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“Mine,” Grant said, hating the idea of being a hundred yards from Spencer, even if he was perfectly safe.
Fritz chuckled, but at least he kept his evil bastard tendencies under wraps. “We’ll see that everything is ready. Talk later.”
Spencer had returned to the stiff-shouldered, blank-faced appraisal of his house. Grant wanted to pull him into a hug, reassure him they’d sort this out and that none of it was his fault.
Between sirens and flashing blue lights, he didn’t get the chance.
Chapter Six
Spencersatupstraightwhen Grant pulled into the drive of Knightdale Court. “Why are we stopping at your office? Is there something we need?”
“Ah—no. Knightdale Court isn’t just our company HQ. I live here.”
“You live at Knightdale Court?”
“We all do.” The mews lay deserted when Grant parked the Range Rover in his accustomed spot, letting him know Fritz, Luca, and Rylan were working. Grant hoped they got to the bottom of this mess. “The place belonged to Cap’s aunt,” Grant said. “She left it to him. It’s so utterly perfect for what we needed, we divided it between us.”
“Divided it how? You each own part of the building?”
“Yes, exactly that. Each corner is a three-storey townhouse. The company offices take up the centre, and we have training space, garages, and two guest houses in the mews.”
“Guest houses? For clients?”
“Or contractors.”
“And that’s where I’ll be staying?”
“No. I don’t want you out of my sight until that stalker’s caught.” He glanced across the centre console and saw a tiny smile on Spencer’s face. “You’re staying with me.”
“Right.” Spencer craned his neck to peek through the brick arch dividing the mews from the garden. “You can see the lake from here.”
“I know. I’d suggest we grab a bottle of wine and take a boat out, but—”
“Not while the stalker is still after me? Fine. I’ll bookmark it for later.” Spencer sounded resigned. He lifted his jacket and briefcase from the backseat and followed Grant into the house.
Grant would have preferred it had Spencer complained or argued or thrown a tantrum. He was too accepting for someone who’d had his life threatened three times in as many days and had almost had his home destroyed.
“I’m sorry about the boat trip,” he said as he led Spencer into his living room. “I promise we’ll get to that. Right now it’s just too…”
Spencer’s touch on his arm stopped him in his tracks. The chocolate gaze was deep and earnest. “Don’t apologise. Please.”
“I really feel I should. You brought us a problem and—so far—we’ve only made it worse.”
“Mr Bronnley warned me that might happen, and I went ahead with hiring you, anyway. If you must blame someone—”
“No blame. We will sort this out. For now, make yourself at home. What can I get you? Beer? Wine? Something stronger? Is there anything you want?”
“For you to bend me over the back of the couch?”
Grant’s breath stopped. Of all the requests, that one hadn’t even crossed his mind. Now he couldn’t picture anything else. “You want that?” he grated out.
“Been thinking about it all the way here,” Spencer smirked, as if he knew how his words affected Grant.
Grant struggled to string two coherent thoughts together. He reminded himself Spencer was a client, and under enough stress to affect his decision-making.
It was no use.
He hauled Spencer against his body for a rough kiss that left them both weak-kneed.
