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He already knew they made a great team in the bedroom. He guessed it was about time to find out if they made one outside of it.
When the meeting was over, Gen strode up to him and his grandmother. There was no flirt in her smile; she was all business. “Gavin, Mrs. Valentine. Hello. Gavin, I was wondering if we should put our heads together to figure out how this planning process is going to work.”
Gavin’s heart beat a little faster, but then he remembered. “Damn. I wish I could, but I’ve got to give my grandmother a ride home.”
Grandmother Valentine waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, you two go on. I have a cell phone and two other grandsons in town. I’ll be fine.”
Gavin didn’t like that idea. Even though she was most likely just as self-sufficient as the most well-trained military personnel he’d met in his career, he didn’t like the idea of just leaving her. “Are you sure, Grandmother?”
The withering look she gave him answered his question well enough, but she added, “Son, I don’t say things if I’m not sure.”
He smiled, which he didn’t do that often. Yeah, in fact, not nearly often enough. Maybe being home, being around family and friends, was going to be a good thing for him after all.
He looked over at Gen. Was that what she was? A friend? More? Less? To be honest, he had no idea.
As Grandmother Valentine strolled away, speaking into her cell phone in clipped tones, Gavin said, “Should we grab a drink, then?”
He kept his tone neutral to match hers. People not finding out about them, staying out of their business, had always been something that was very important to her. While he didn’t feel the same way, he did respect it.
She hesitated, then said in a low voice, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. People seeing us out together, grabbing a drink…”
He nodded, then said, matching her low tone, “I’d invite you back to my hotel, but I’m bunking at Troy and Mila’s.”
“Right, okay.” She took a deep breath and said, “I guess…yeah. I guess we could go to my place?”
He waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, he said, “Is that a question?”
She chuckled. It seemed the tension was broken for the moment. Her voice still low but considerably more decisive, she said, “No. Not a question. An invitation. Let’s go to my place.”
