Taming McGruff (Book 3, Once Upon A Romance Series) Read online

  “You’re invited to our house.” She waved a hand. “Casual family get-together. Can you make it?” She didn’t wait for him to answer before she leaned over and grabbed a pen to scribble something on a nearby piece of paper. She ripped it off the pad and handed it to him. “My address. Two, or earlier if you just want to drop by. We can finish our talk then. And you can meet Marcus Goode, the temporary head of King’s. His tenure finishes at the end of this month. I think you two should meet. Besides, Alex would love to talk shop with you.”

  Shock rippled through him. This scenario never played out in his mind before. Would he finally come face to face with his sworn enemy? “Family? Will your stepmother be attending?”

  Her smile faded and a sad, wounded look filled her dark eyes. “No, I’m afraid due to her recent outrageous behavior, she’s not welcome in the store or at my home. I don’t know if she ever will be again.”

  Her regret stabbed at him. He cleared his throat. “It sounds like mostly family. I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

  “Please do.”

  “Why?” His blunt question didn’t even make her twitch.

  “Why, Griff, because I think you just may need a family.”

  Chapter 2

  Priscilla tapped her foot as she flipped through another boring business magazine. Every few moments, she glanced down the hall, even leaning to her side to try to get a better view. Her stepsister was certainly taking awhile talking to the man who rattled her senses.

  After quickly dropping off the file on Marcus’ desk, along with another file from her tote bag of her design visions for remodeling the other departments in the store, she’d scampered back to her perch on the reception chair to make sure she’d catch them as their meeting wound down.

  She wanted to know who he was and why he was there. Waiting until the morning, or when Charlie was free, didn’t play into her options at the moment.

  Thankfully, they didn’t make her wait much longer. Their muted voices floated to her as they walked down the hall. Soon she saw their shapes, his tall and wide shoulders and her stepsister’s tall, thin figure coming toward her. She ditched the magazine on the nearby table and shot to her feet, gathering her tote bag and slinging the strap onto her shoulder.

  A wave of glee shot through her at the sight of Charlie. Earlier, her stepsister had stopped by the salon and told her the wonderful news. Twins! In only a few short months, Prissy would be an auntie.

  The man noticed her first, slowing his steps. Charlie moved ahead as she became aware of Prissy. “Honey.” She gave her a quick hug, and then pulled back. “What are you still doing here?”

  “Yes, I’d like to know the answer to that, too,” he challenged.

  It was all she could do to not stick her tongue out at him again. “I showed,” she nodded to the brooding man, “him to your office since I had to drop off the salon remodel file on Marcus’ desk.”

  “Oh, so you two have met already.” Charlie glanced at him, and then back at Prissy.

  “Not officially,” Prissy said with a smile in her voice. Finally, she’d get her answer. “You can have the honors.”

  “Griff, this is Priscilla King. Priscilla, this is Griffin James or Griff, for short.”

  “Griffin James?” Where had she heard that name before? Why did it strike instant respect, too?

  “King, did you say?” he asked Charlie while capturing Prissy’s stare. “Priscilla King?”

  “Yes, my youngest stepsister,” Charlie acknowledged.

  “And, you, Griff, is it?” Prissy shook her head, still not placing him.

  “He’s the last candidate I’ve interviewed to take over King’s,” Charlie explained.

  That’s where she’d heard the name. “Retail giant. Miracle worker.”

  “Don’t believe everything you read,” he drawled.

  “No, just what you see, right? McGruff, is it then?”

  “Pixie,” he said under his breath.

  ***

  They were nestled in the elevator, going down to the first floor. His looming body and wicked stare made Priscilla’s heartbeat trip over itself.

  “Need a ride, Prissy? Edward’s here to pick me up. He can run you home on the way,” Charlie offered.

  “Thanks a bunch,” she said, meaning it. She wasn’t fond of taking taxis late at night or, worse, the jostling bus ride to her loft apartment.

  “And you, Griff?”

  Priscilla held her breath, hoping he’d accept just so she could see where he lived.

  “No, thank you, I drove.” He must have seen the let-down on her face; he raised his eyebrows at her.

  She covered it up in a hurry. “You don’t know what you’re missing. Edward always carries some treats that Dolly, his girlfriend and Charlie’s friend and cook, whips up every day and tucks into the car for him and the rest of us to nibble on.”

  Charlie chuckled. “Lately, it’s more saltine crackers and ginger ale for me. I can’t wait to try some real food soon.”

  “Between Dolly and Marcus, we have the best two cooks in the city,” Prissy said to him, and then turned to her stepsister. “Don’t worry, Charlie, in no time you’ll have the pick of the menu and two willing chefs to cook anything you desire. Ah, don’t forget to request the chocolate ganache cake and invite me over for some.”

  “You got it,” Charlie said as the elevator doors opened and she exited.

  Griff signaled for Prissy to go first. “McGruff a gentleman? Who would have thought?” She smiled up at him.

  He grunted. “And I thought pixies only flew.”

  Prissy caught up to Charlie, and Griff trailed not far behind. She glanced over her shoulder to catch him staring at her. This time she did stick out her tongue.

  He grinned.

  She sucked in a sharp breath and turned away. Lord almighty, she thought he was dangerous before, but when he smiled his whole face changed, making him more handsome and more lethal. Her middle flip-flopped.

  A few minutes later, after saying their goodnights to Bruno, Prissy found herself on the sidewalk in front of King’s, facing the man who made her feel things she never felt before. The light drizzle didn’t dampen her senses when she shook his hand. A blaze trailed along her palm and up her arm. “Mr. James.”

  “Ms. King.” He held on for a moment longer until she met his stare.

  Those smoky gray eyes made her knees knock. She pulled away and moved toward the car. She waved off Edward’s assistance as he held open the door and the umbrella to shield her. “Thanks, Edward. I’m good. You can see to Charlie.”

  “Miss Priscilla, nice to see you again.”

  The warmth of the car greeted her and she sank onto the backseat. But inside she quivered. “Drat!”

  Charlie was there in an instant, settling in beside her. McGruff strode to the low, sleek black car parked in front of them. Priscilla leaned forward, peering out of the windshield. Edward entered and sat behind the steering wheel. She nudged him. “What kinda car is that?”

  “Corvette. Latest model. Most people call them Vettes.”

  “Hmmm…”

  He picked up the pad on the dashboard and showed her. The nearby streetlight revealed his writing. “His name and address. No priors. No tickets.”

  She smacked him on his arm. “You ran his license plate!”

  Grinning, he said, “Habit. Sometimes you can’t take the cop outta a person.”

  “Can I have it?” She nodded to the sheet of paper.

  “Sure, but you be careful. You need backup, call me.”

  “I owe you,” she said as he handed her Griffin’s address. She folded it, sat back, and tucked it in her tote.

  “What was that all about?” Charlie asked, buckling her seatbelt.

  “Oh, I’ve just never seen a car like that before.” Or a man like that before either.

  ***

  Priscilla’s tummy rumbled the moment she entered her loft, flicked on the light, and then dumped her tote bag on the nearby ch
air. “I’m starving,” she said aloud, just to break the silence.

  When she and her sister, Francie, left their mother’s months ago, living in this loft felt stuffy and cramped. Now that Francie married Marcus and moved out, Prissy couldn’t get used to having the whole place to herself. A stab of loneliness shot through her.

  Shaking it off, she marched to the tiny kitchenette, and then opened the fridge. “Nearly empty.” She groaned, realizing she’d forgotten to go grocery shopping again. The wilted lettuce and carrots did not look appealing in the least. The cupboards revealed the same sad condition. “I should have asked Edward for some snacks, but that dang McGruff made me forget everything but him.” She couldn’t shove aside the man or her unwanted and unexpected reaction to him.

  “Takeout,” she muttered, trying to shut down her wayward thoughts. She yanked open the drawer and foraged through the piles of menus until she found the one that would make do tonight.

  Grabbing the Chinese menu, she returned to the living area and snatched up her tote bag. Dropping onto the couch, she fished out her new cell phone and punched in the number. It rang half a dozen times, cut off, and then rang some more. She slipped out of her boots as the man on the other end finally answered.

  “Derivery or pickup?”

  “De—” She stopped herself as her gaze landed on the piece of paper sticking out of the top of her tote. Griffin James’ address. “Pickup,” she said, changing her mind. She ordered for two.

  Chapter 3

  Now standing on his front step, Prissy questioned her sanity in coming here. The taxi cab waited at the curb for her signal to stay or leave. What would Griffin think of her showing up on his doorstep after eleven at night?

  What if he had a woman with him? Her middle dropped.

  The door opened.

  She didn’t have long to wait to wonder what her reception would be like. His thunderous expression answered a great deal. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Gulping hard, she held up the oversized takeout bag. “Dinner. Remember? I told you I skipped it?”

  Behind her, the taxi cab shifted gears and took off. She twisted to see the red taillights disappear down the road. “I told him to wait,” she muttered, turning back to Griffin. “I swear I did.”

  Silence descended. The pitter-patter of rain dinged off the overhang just above her. The aroma of the Chinese food wafted to her again. Her stomach growled, loud and long.

  “Come in,” he said, reluctance coloring his words. “I’ll take you home.”

  “After we eat?” she asked. “I bought enough for you, too.”

  His heavy sigh should have filled her with regret, but it didn’t. It had the opposite effect. Her insides tumbled.

  Entering his domain, Prissy looked around. The dark, empty rooms poked at the sad, lonely place in her heart. “Did you just move in?” she couldn’t help but ask.

  “Months ago.” His clipped, short answer didn’t elicit more comments.

  But Prissy pressed on. “Did you forget to decorate?”

  “Funny,” he muttered. He led the way down the long hallway and to the back of the house.

  Her footsteps echoed while his bare feet whispered across the wood floors. Like her, he’d changed into jeans. But he chose a black T-shirt. Now she didn’t have to imagine what his broad shoulders looked like; the fabric molded to his body. A stab of longing to touch him there sliced through her. “Wow,” she whispered.

  “I heard that.”

  “You weren’t supposed to.”

  “Too late.”

  They passed what she assumed was his den or study; there was a lone lamp turned on, sitting on top of a big wooden desk scattered with papers. Nothing else but his desk chair occupied the space. Even the built-in bookshelves behind his desk remained bare. Stark. Barren.

  “This way, Miss Nosy,” he directed, essentially pulling her attention away from his office.

  “Afraid I’ll discover something about you?” she baited.

  He stiffened, and then turned. Nodding toward the study, he said, “Off-limits.” The command resounded in the high ceiling hallway. “Dinner in the kitchen. Then you go.”

  “Ah, I’m sure when it comes time to give out awards for the best host, you’ll win.”

  She thought he’d kick her out right there and then. However, he surprised her with a chuckle. It came out raw and nearly strangled, but it took her breath away.

  “You have a sense of humor? Wow, wonders never cease.”

  “Watch it, Pixie.”

  ***

  Griffin James eyed the little bit of woman sitting near him on the only other bar stool at his kitchen island counter. She polished off the beef and broccoli. “Yummy,” she moaned, licking her lips.

  Something stirred in him, low and deep. “How did you get my address?” He refused to give in to his cravings for her. She was not in his plan.

  Her smile lingered, causing him to take a sharp breath. “I’ve got my ways.”

  “Your stepsister? I’d have thought Charlie wouldn’t have given out confidential information.”

  She slammed the empty carton down. “Of course she wouldn’t.” The fierce glare would have made a lesser man quake. It made him admire her, even more.

  “So tell me. Convince me she didn’t.” He had his own idea now. “The ex-cop?”

  “How did—” She stopped herself.

  “It was him. Edward, did you say?”

  “I didn’t,” she bit out. Priscilla pointed to his fortune cookie. “Aren’t you going to read your fortune?”

  “I don’t have to. I already know what it says.” At her frown, he went on. ”A little Pixie will wreak havoc on your life.”

  “Do you practice being a smart aleck or does it come naturally?”

  That made him grin. “Maybe I should call you Sassy instead.”

  “Here.” She cracked open her cookie. “I’ll read mine.”

  “Aloud?” he prompted her when she remained silent.

  “You will meet a dark, mysterious man.”

  “It does not,” he said, taking the thin strip of paper from her outstretched hand. Quickly, he read the neat, typed script. “Damn, it does.”

  “Show me yours.”

  “Here?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Why couldn’t he help himself around her?

  Her gasp and flush brought him up short. She couldn’t be that innocent.

  From the all too brief mention of her in the newspaper clip he’d just reviewed in his files, he had few clues to the type of person she was or the kind of life she lived these last few months away from her controlling, domineering mother.

  Her teasing, outspoken behavior earlier in the evening had him assuming she knew her way around a man. Was he wrong?

  “You read it.” He slid the fortune cookie toward her. She caught it deftly, and then pulled the white edge out.

  Priscilla chuckled. “Your life will be turned upside down.” Holding it up, she showed him.

  “I told you I knew what it said.” Inside, he tried to brush aside the rush of heat that swept through him at the musical sound of her laughter.

  Hopping off the stool, she gathered the white cartons with food still in them. “And they say those things are made up. Who knew?” She carried them to his refrigerator and deposited them inside. “Your fridge doesn’t look much better than mine.”

  He followed her lead, picking up the empty cartons and tossing them in the trash. “Thanks for dinner.” Somehow, he didn’t think her motives for coming here were entirely pure. He leaned against the counter and folded his arms across his chest. “Now, do you want to tell me why you’re really here?”

  Nudging him aside until he moved, she washed her hands in the sink. She stood so close to him, he could smell her hair. Flowers? What kind?

  “Not talking to me?”

  “Nope.”

  “Strange, you were so talkative until now.”

  She glared at him under her lashes as she wipe
d her hands on a towel.

  “Priscilla,” he tried out her real name, “do you often drop by men’s homes unannounced?”

  Her gasp echoed in the nearly empty room. The color drained from her face. “Of course not.”

  Griff had his answer. She wasn’t experienced. Somehow that made him angry at her callous assumption he, a complete stranger to her, would be a true gentleman. “You should be more careful of who you visit late at night.”

  “You won’t harm me,” she stated with utter confidence.

  “How do you know that? You don’t even know me.”

  Her green-eyed stare met his, taking his breath away. “I trust you.”

  Of all the things she could have said, this sliced through the stone wall he’d built around his heart. “Don’t,” he warned. “I can’t be trusted.”

  She leaned close, coming within inches of him. “Liar.”

  Chapter 4

  The pounding rain pelted against the windows. Cold seeped into the house. She shivered as he directed her into his study. The storm outside had turned nasty. Griff’s looks could have been called the same.

  “I’ll build a fire while we wait for the storm to pass.”

  “Don’t go to any trouble for me.” Even her voice sounded wounded. Why had she said that to him? But she did trust him. She had no clue where that feeling had come from, but it was there nonetheless. It was his fierce reaction to her declaration that cut her. The warning still blared in her head. I can’t be trusted.

  His heavy sigh bounced off the walls. “Does anyone know you’re here?”

  “No.”

  “Do you have a cell phone on you?”

  “It’s in the other room in my tote—”

  “That you left in my kitchen,” he finished for her. “Do you know karate or judo?”

  “No.”

  “Any self-defense moves?”

  “Are you interrogating me?”

  He knelt in front of the fireplace, striking a wooden match he pulled from the box. Expertly, he lit the pile of sticks and shredded newspaper. It took a few minutes, but it caught. Standing, he dusted off his hands. The flames licked, slowly spreading to the logs.