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Without warning, he turned around and those dreamy dark chocolate eyes found my boring blue ones. The pictures in the
magazines had hardly done him justice. If anything, he was even more handsomely gorgeous in person. The lines of his chin were hard and sharp, softened a bit by the dark hue of a few days’ worth of stubble. His cheekbones were angular and just as flawless, but it was his eyes that captured me the most.
Their depths seemed endless. Within those dark irises, there were hints of yellow and green that sparkled amongst the coffee-colored hue. After a few moments, I forced myself to look away, afraid that he might think I was staring at him for too long.
“Miss Parker,” he murmured in greeting.
“Dr. Parker,” I corrected, and he smirked in a way that felt salacious and deviant rather than polite.
“That’s right. I apologize. It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Zoe Parker,” he answered. In some ways, it felt like he was chiding me, and it annoyed me. It was probably just the way he was. He was rich and used to being on the top of the world in every room he walked into. I may not have the dollars behind my name that he did, but I would.
Eventually.
“It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Asher,” I continued.
“Please. Call me Grayson,” he smiled, and this time it was warmer.
I licked my lips.
“Grayson,” I echoed. For some reason his name on my tongue felt wrong, like I was whispering sweet nothings in his ear just by saying his first name.
I was being ridiculous.
I offered my hand in greeting and he took several steps toward me. His handshake was firm and sure, and I noticed at this proximity that he was so much taller than me. He was probably six foot three, or even six foot five. I tried not to be intimidated, but I was about a foot shorter than him and that made me feel tiny.
His skin against mine felt like fire, like I’d shoved my hand into a vat of molten lava, and I did my best not to pull away before he ended the handshake. I swallowed my sigh of relief when he released my fingers, trying not to focus on the way his touch lingered long after he let me go.
“Why don’t you take a seat?” he asked, proffering the comfortable-looking brown leather armchair situated in front of the grand wooden desk in the center of the room.
“Thank you,” I replied and moved toward it, glancing over my shoulder to see that his gaze lingered. He’d been checking out my ass. I was one hundred percent certain of it.
Maybe he did have a type.
I turned away just as quickly and sat down, not surprised that the chair was probably the comfiest thing I’d ever had the privilege to sit down in. I lifted my laptop bag off of my shoulder and placed it on the floor. Then I put my coffee down on a small table beside the chair and crossed my legs, waiting for him to begin.
He sat down in his own chair and placed his elbows on the desk, leaning toward me, and immediately it reminded me of a predator lying in wait for his prey.
“You’ve pursued a very impressive career path, Zoe. Top of your class at Stanford. Completed your PhD in four years at the University of California San Diego. The job offers must have been staggering for a graduate student making only thirty thousand dollars a year. I bet not a single one of them was under six figures,” he murmured, his voice gravelly and mildly curious.
“I did receive a great many tempting offers,” I answered carefully. His smile widened.
“Instead, you decided to take a big risk and continue your thesis research on your own. Tell me, Zoe, why did you decide to start your own company instead?” he pressed.
“I wanted to be the one to take my discovery and bring it to the world,” I replied. To be honest, that was only partially the truth. There was a lot more to it than that.
My company had one very simple goal. We were developing a biosynthetic compound that mimicked insulin closely enough to be recognized and utilized by the human body. It could fundamentally change the current world of insulin production. Right now, insulin was ridiculously expensive in the United States and could only be produced in a biologic manner, which limited the quantities available at any given time. My technology would change all that.
I was certain of it.
He stared back at me, a curious look painted over his face. It was as if he was trying to read my mind to see if I was telling the truth, or if there was more hidden away beneath it all.
I didn’t let it show.
“An honorable venture, to be sure, but certainly one that means more debt to your name. Research doesn’t come cheap,” he finally answered.
“That it certainly doesn’t,” I said, putting on a polite smile.
“I’ve been watching your company for quite some time now. You’ve been working very hard. It’s been growing steadily, receiving consistent funding and even a number of grants, hasn’t it?” he said, and there was almost a sense of pride in the way that he said it.
