All He Really Needs. Emily McKay

being such a wimp. It’s just a key.”

      She grabbed it and stalked to the front door, carefully locking the door before dropping the key into the change pocket of her wallet as she walked down the hall to the elevator. She pointedly did not put it on her key chain. It wasn’t that kind of key. She and Griffin didn’t have that kind of relationship.

      No, they had a very casual, sex-only kind of thing. A no-key-exchange kind of relationship.

      She punched the down button with a tad more force than was necessary. She was just being responsible. Like when they’d first started sleeping together and he’d presented her with the test results of his most recent physical, proof that he was drug and disease free. At first, she felt weird about it. Like it was wrong having that kind of information about someone she barely knew—even someone she was sleeping with. Sure, the information was nominally about sex. But there was other information in there, too. She now knew his cholesterol number and that his last tetanus shot was in 2010—from the time he’d gotten snagged with a hook while deep-sea fishing, she’d later learned.

      But she hadn’t wanted to know about the tetanus shot any more than she’d wanted to know the origin of the tiny scar on the side of his neck. Any more than she’d wanted a key to his apartment.

      Which was why, when she got out to her car, she sat there for several minutes, sucking in deep, panic-reducing breaths.

      What was she doing?

      When was she going to stop fooling herself?

      Sex with Griffin was a bad idea. Very bad.

      When they’d first started sleeping together, it hadn’t seemed like a bad idea. It hadn’t even seemed like an idea. More like … an accident. Like when she’d accidently adopted her cat, Grommet. She’d come home to find the poor, malnourished kitten huddled on her front porch to stay out of the rain. She couldn’t just leave the pathetic tabby there, so she brought him inside. But he was wormy and sick and even had to have part of his tail amputated. The vet had recommended putting him down instead of taking him to the shelter. A thousand dollars plus weekly allergy shots later and she was the proud owner of the ugliest cat on earth.

      Sleeping with Griffin was kind of like that.

      Except not at all. Because Griffin wasn’t pathetic and he wasn’t tame and she most definitely was not allergic to him.

      But when it came to adopting Grommet, she hadn’t meant to keep him. It was supposed to be just for one night. That’s what she’d told herself about Griffin, too.

      Last summer, in the middle of a record heat wave, fresh on the heels of an awful breakup with her fiancé, Brady, she’d slept with Griffin.

      It was Brady’s fault, really. Nine months before their wedding—a date it had taken him two years to agree upon—he’d reconnected with his high school girlfriend on Facebook. He’d apologized profusely for breaking up with Sydney. But how could she feel anything past the burning indignation of finding out the guy she’d been with for six years was in love with another woman? So much in love that he quit his job and moved halfway across the country to be with her, when he hadn’t even wanted to sell his condo to move into Sydney’s house once they were engaged.

      She’d wanted to punch him. It was the first and last time in her twenty-seven years of life that she wanted to do physical violence to another human being.

      Instead, she’d calmly emptied the single drawer he’d allotted her in his condo and done the same for the few items he kept at her house. The whole exchange had required only two empty cardboard boxes. She hadn’t even had to take a day off work. And she’d told herself she was fine. Fine.

      She’d continued being fine right up until the point she’d stumbled onto a Facebook post about Brady’s wedding through a mutual friend. Then, all of a sudden, she hadn’t been fine anymore. Less than thirty-six hours after Brady married another woman, she did the unthinkable. When she’d run into Griffin Cain in the coffee shop half a block from Cain Enterprises, she’d typed her number into his cell phone. Yes, he’d been flirting with her since she’d hired on at Cain Enterprises. He flirted with everyone. She’d never dreamed she’d be one of his conquests.

      Griffin was handsome and charming. With his shaggy, dark-blond hair and ocean blue eyes, he looked better suited to professional surfing than international business. His crooked smile and sexy dimples had all the women in the office swooning.

      Still, she’d been sure she’d be able to resist him, despite all the times he wandered into Dalton’s office and propped his hip on the corner of her desk to flirt with her while he waited for Dalton to come to or from some meeting. Despite the way he’d occasionally bring her gourmet coffee and drop it off at her desk with a salacious wink as he headed for Dalton’s office. Despite all that, she knew she could resist him because she knew he treated all the women in the office that way.

      And she hated that kind of crap. And she hated people who coasted by on their good looks almost as much as she hated people who got by on their family name. Griffin was the triple-whammy of things she despised in the business world.

      Of all the men she knew, he was the guy she was least likely to get romantically involved with. Which was precisely what made him appealing to her after Brady dumped her. She’d been emotionally bruised and battered. When she ran into him that morning at the coffee shop, when he turned on that classic Griffin Cain charm, she did the unthinkable. She decided to sow her own wild oats.

      She hadn’t really believed she had any wild oats in her. They certainly had never floated to the surface of her psyche before. But Griffin had somehow gotten the damn things to sprout.

      The one night she’d planned on allowing herself with Griffin had turned into a weekend. And then into a month. And then into four.

      The brief sexual encounter was no longer brief. She’d managed to keep it purely sexual, but it was no longer uncomplicated. A mere call from him had her leaving her house in the middle of the night for a rendezvous. She’d stayed over at his place. Showered in his shower. Missed a morning of work. And now she had a key to his frickin’ condo.

      It was time to stop fooling herself. She wasn’t just having sex with Griffin. She was acting like an addict. And it was time to go cold turkey.

      Two

      Griffin took a sip of his coffee, looking from the file in front of him to Dalton sitting across the table. He’d coaxed Dalton out of his condo and down the block to his favorite little Argentinean café. Once their coffee had arrived, Dalton had pushed a file folder across the table to him. And then he’d dropped a bomb.

      “What do you mean, you’re done?” Griffin asked.

      “Done.” Dalton leaned back against the booth’s red vinyl upholstery.

      “Like, done? Like, you’re not searching for her anymore?”

      “Exactly.”

      “What, you want me to take over?” Hollister expected them to search for the heir separately. But he hadn’t expressly ordered them not to work together. “I’ve got a trip scheduled for next week, but after that—”

      “I’m done.” Dalton leaned forward. “I’m not looking for her anymore. I’m not jumping through any more of Hollister’s damn hoops. I’m out.”

      “Fine. You need me to handle this, I’ll handle it. You know how I feel about Hollister’s games. I’ll pass on to you whatever I find.”

      “When I say I’m out, I mean I’m out for good. I’m not searching for the Cain heiress. I don’t want Hollister’s damn prize. I’m stepping down as CEO. I’m passing the torch to you.”

      “To me?” Griffin dropped the folder like it had caught fire. “I don’t want Cain Enterprises.”

      “Neither do I.”

      “Of course you do. This is what you’ve wanted your whole life. Every—”