Jordan Grey rolled her eyes at the passionate clinch the two people on the screen were in. Her secretary, on the other hand, sighed blissfully.
“I have waited so long for you, my darling.”
“And I you, my sweet.”
“If not for your husband we would be man and wife now.”
“I know, Vincente, I know!”
“Oh, my stomach.” The snort of laughter from the red-haired man sitting on the couch was nearly drowned out by Jamie’s outraged squawk. Jordan put her hands on her hips. “Didn’t I tell you no more dubbed foreign soaps in the office?”
“It’s a classic!” Jamie spun around in her chair and glared at her boss.
Jordan stared at the overly-mustached, mullet-haired “hero”. He had the blonde, overly-hair-sprayed heroine in a clinch that could only be deemed terrifying. It looked like they were licking each other’s tongues. “It’s nauseating.”
“No. Roses are sweet. Chocolate is sweet. This is…” She squinted, staring in horrified disbelief at the office screen. “Are those gold lame briefs?” She shook her head. “That man is wearing gold lame briefs!”
Jamie spun around in her chair so fast Jordan’s head spun. “Really?”
“Ew. You know he’s old enough to be your father, right?”
“Not in this he’s not. In this, Vincente is hot.” Jamie fanned her face, her expression wicked.
“Jamie. Gold lame briefs are. Not. Hot. Ever.”
“Speak for yourself.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose. “For the love of God, make it go away.”
“Actually, I think Vincente is pretty hot, too.”
Jordan glared at Jeff, who ducked behind the book he’d been reading. “And everyone knows what great taste in men you have.” She turned back to Jamie. “Turn it off.” She sighed when Jamie, with a pout, complied. “That’s better.”
“God, you are such a bitch.” Jeff laughed, peeking over the book he’d been reading.
She smirked at him. “Takes a bitch to know a bitch, bitch.”
“Aw, c’mon, Jordan! The love scene was coming up. Pleeease?”
Jamie had her hands clasped in front of her, her very finest imitation of innocence plastered all over her face. Jordan looked at Jamie over the top of pretend glasses, deepening her voice to match that of her stepfather, and the twins’ father, Fred Grimm. “It is undignified for a grown woman to beg.”
“Like Dad doesn’t make your mom beg every night.” Jeff smirked at Jordan’s look of horror.
“Ew!” Her brother and sister laughed as she stuck her fingers in her ears, scrunched her eyes shut and started yelling, “Lalalalalala,” at the top of her lungs. She’d never do something like that with clients in the office, but it was lunch time, so she knew the place was empty. Besides, who else could she cut lose with but the Wonder Twins?
Jordan opened her eyes, ready to laugh, startled when she saw Jamie shaking her head. She stopped mid-“la”. Jeff’s mouth was hanging open in horrified amusement.
Oh, no. Clients. I look like an idiot in front of clients. Crap. Travis is gonna kill me.
Jordan turned and saw the two most gorgeous men she’d ever seen in her life standing in her doorway.
I look like an idiot in front of hot clients. Double-crap.
The dark-haired one was obviously laughing at her. The wickedest smile she’d ever seen rested on a pair of full, sensual lips. Dark eyes danced as she slowly removed her fingers from her ears. He had a small gold nose ring marring an otherwise perfect nose. He was a full head taller than her in her heeled boots, and half a head taller than his companion, with broad shoulders encased in black leather. Ripped, dark blue jeans encased muscular legs, leading down to a pair of black sneakers. Rich, dark red hair tumbled around his head, making him look like he’d just crawled out of bed.
Bad boy alert.
Jordan was a sucker for bad boys. She could feel the saliva pooling in her mouth as her gaze traveled back up his legs, pausing at the impressive package outlined by his jeans, to that wide chest and back to his face. She felt her cheeks heat as he stared back with a hot, knowing look. Embarrassed to be caught staring like a lusty teenager, she turned her direction to his companion.
Oh. My. God.
The blond next to him was… was... words failed her at the other vision of ultimate hotness standing before her. Long, pale blonde hair cascaded down to just brush his shoulders. Blue eyes the color of forget-me-nots were wide open as he obviously fought off a laugh. His upper lip formed a perfect cupid’s bow, something that should have looked feminine. On him, it just made you want to lick to see if he tasted as good as he looked. His full lower lip trembled with his efforts not to laugh. He was broad shouldered and muscular under his black suede coat. He, too, wore blue jeans and black sneakers, but where on the redhead they played up his dangerous looks, on the blond it was like wrapping paper on a present. She just wanted to rip into it and see what was underneath.
Apart, they were incredible. Together, they were enough to stun the most jaded of feminine eyes. She had the urge to stamp her name across each of their foreheads before anyone else got a look at them.
Angel and demon, eh?
A brief vision of her between the two of them, light and dark, yin and yang, flashed through her mind. She squished it before it could go too far and get her in trouble.
Make that double trouble. “Welcome to Guardian Investigations. Can I help you gentlemen?” She nearly sighed in relief at the professional, only slightly breathless tone she managed.
“We’re here to see Jordan Grey.”
Jordan held back a shiver as the deep voice of the redhead washed over her. He had a slight accent that slurred his es’s a little bit. “I’m Jordan Grey.”
The two men exchanged a look she couldn’t decipher. “See? I told you she’d be perfect.”
The blond rolled his eyes and turned back to her. “We need your help.” The blond had the same accent.
Jordan sighed. Damn. Definitely clients. Which meant Demon Boy and Archangel were off-limits. Double damn. She waved them into her office, glad that the twins were already maneuvering to leave. “Pleased to meet you. Is there anything my staff can get you before we sit down and discuss your case?”
“Coffee, if you don’t mind.” The redhead sauntered in and sat on one of the chairs in front of her desk.
The blond followed, smiling at Jeff, who practically drooled all over him. The blond sat in the other chair and turned that devastating smile on Jamie. “Water, please, thank you.”
His double-u sound was a cross between a double-u and a vee, and suddenly she placed the accent. After all, she heard it every day. She smiled. “Are you two Norwegian?”
They turned and looked at each other, then back at her. “Yes. How did you know?”
She smiled broadly as she sat behind her desk. “My father has the same accent.”
“We ” – the blond cut off as the redhead elbowed him, hard – “need your help.”
She nearly frowned at the obvious gesture. Blondie had meant to say something else. Something like, We know, perhaps?
“Logan Saeter.” The redhead stood half-way, holding out his hand.
Jordan shook it briefly and turned to the blond, who stood completely. “Kiran Tait.” That devastating smile was still on his lips, warm and inviting. “Call me Kir.”
“Pleased to meet you. How can I help you gentlemen?”
They waited until Jamie brought in the coffee and water, shutting the door behind her, before Logan spoke. “We need to prove that Oliver Grimm attempted to murder Kir and frame me for it.”
Jordan couldn’t keep the shock out of her voice. “Excuse me?”
“He’s telling the truth.”
Jordan stared at Kir. Kir stared back. He looked like he was willing her to believe Logan. “Oliver Grimm, head of Grimm and Sons?”
Kir nodded. Logan looked amused.
Jordan stood. “I’m sorry, gentleman, but I don’t think I can help you.”
Logan snorted. He turned to Kir and grinned. “She thinks she can’t help us.”
Kir frowned at Logan. “Shush.” He turned back to Jordan and smiled that angel’s smile. “We know Grimm is like your grandfather. It’s why we wanted to work with you. If we can get you to believe us, perhaps we have a chance of proving it to the rest of the world.”
She stared at him like he’d just grown another perfect head on those perfect shoulders. “Are you freakin’ insane?”
He blinked, looking startled as her voice went from cultured smoothness to a rough Philly accent in two seconds flat. Logan snickered, his expression delighted as Jordan lit into them with both barrels. “He’s my grandfather.”
“Doesn’t matter! Hello? Conflict of interest here!”
“That’s the whole point. If someone with your ethics believes us, and can prove it, we’ll be able to see to it that Grimm is punished for what he’s done.”
She looked back and forth between the two of them, angel and demon, and wondered if they were actually telling the truth. Logan had a smirk on his face, but he still managed to look viciously determined. Kir looked… hopeful. Like his fate rested in her hands. Add in that Oliver Grimm was a cold son-of-a-bitch who scared the bejesus out of her, and…
Fuck. Kir blinked, the wistful hope on his face tugging at her heart. Puppy dog eyes. I’m screwed. She was a total sucker, and she knew it. She sighed and sat down. “Tell me your story.” Man, I am so gonna regret this…