Between The Lines

Chapter 1

Cormick Grayson tossed aside the handful of papers he'd been going through, poured himself another dash of cognac and said calmly, "It occurs to me there's no good reason why we shouldn't get married."
Amber Langley choked on the sip of elegant cognac she had just taken. "I beg your pardon?" She gasped for breath as Grayson lightly slapped her between the shoulder blades. It was a friendly geatures, just the sort she would have expected from him. He was, after all, her good friend. "What did you say?"
"You heard me." Grayson gave her his slow, fleeting smile, the one that only briefly revealed his strong white teeth. His hazel eyes were gently amused as he lounged back against the black leather cushion of the sofa. "I can't think of a single good reason why we shouldn't get married. We're friends, we work well together and you're practically living here in my house as it is."
Amber blinked, trying to regain her equilibrium in a world that seemed to have tilted an inch or two. "Practically is a long way from actually," she managed to pointbout a little dryly. "I work for you, remember? You choose to run your business from your home. That makes your house my office. What it really amounts to is that I'm spending a lot of time in the office these days, Gray."
He shrugged, his massive shoulders moving with careless ease beneath the fabric of the conservatove white shirt he wore. "You don't seem to mind the time you spend here."
"No," Amber admitted thoughtfully. "I don't mind the time I spend here." She studied him closely. Cormick Grayson was a large specimen of masculinity. There was no fat on him, but there was a sure, solid strenght in the broad shoulders and strong thighs. Everything about him seemed over sized, including his hands and feet. Amber estimated his height as slightly over six feet.
His hazel eyes were a cross between green and gold. There was a direct, watchful intelligence in his gaze that Amber occasionally found disconcerting but never really unnerving. The rest o his features were just as straightforward, from the fiem line of his mouth and jaw to the bold blade of his nose. Grayson was nearly forty, a powerfully built man whose face echoed that power. His hair was a deep shade of broem that contained the faintest hint of russet. It was thick, and Grayson kept it severely trimmed. He wore his hair as conservatively as he wore his clothes.
For all his size and sleekly muscled build, Cormick Grayson was a quiet man. He spoke softly and moved silently. It was precisely that element of quietness coupled with strenght that Amber found so appealing. Grayson wasn't flashy, unsettling, temperamental or unpredictable. He was calm, thoughtful, easygoing and pleasantly predictable. Placid, was the term Amber's sister Cynthia used.