Joshua's Grace

Chapter 1

"Kia Ora. I'm Grace Carvalho." She informed the smiling, casually uniformed young man at the desk. "I was paged a few minutes ago." She reminded him when he continued to smile but looked at her expectantly. Grace braced her forearms against the handle and slumped tiredly against her baggage trolley. Her eyes felt gritty from a lack of sleep. Unconsciously she rubbed the heels of her hands against her eyes and then moved one hand to cover her mouth as she yawned tiredly. She leaned against the handle of the trolley and did her best to stop her eyes from closing.

"Kia Ora Grace. Just give me a minute," He sought out a record of the request, "Here we are. Mr De Souza," He looked past her before saying, " the man over there. Mr Joshua De Souza," he indicated with his finger, "asked us to page you."

Startled, Grace turned automatically to look behind her. What she saw banished her tiredness instantly and made her grin with sheer unadulterated amusement. Even exhaustion couldn't stop her from grinning. Good old dad. Never give up. She'd give her father full marks for this one. Fatigue disappeared momentarily as she took stock of Joshua De Souza. Never turn down an opportunity to meet a fit guy.

And this man was definitely her idea of fit. Not handsome in a predictable way, but then she had never gone for predictable. There was just something about him that had instantly captivated Grace. He had a hard kind of face, too angular to be textbook handsome, and with the frown creasing his brow, not exactly picture perfect, but she liked the look of him. As far as she was concerned, the man was gorgeous. She took her time and scanned him from head to toe. Long legs, lean, angular, slightly studious, she decided, as she wondered how her dad had found a guy who really did meet part of her wish list criteria. Dark navy blue sweater, well-worn snug blue jeans and bored eyes. Those were her first impressions

"Thanks" She turned back to the man at the desk and smiled delightedly at him. He beamed in return, almost as if he knew all about the conversation between Grace and her father ten days ago. Her father had teased her, yet again, about finding a man. Told her he'd spoken to one at a party, and that man, Joshua, was going to phone that weekend to ask her to dinner. The weekend had passed, with no phone call or sign of Joshua. Before Grace left for her conferences she had taunted her dad mercilessly, even laughingly suggested he offer them a huge dowry if he was that desperate to get her married off.

Three conferences, three countries and thousands of miles later, the figment had materialised. She hadn't realised just how sore a loser her dad was. But she was pleased with his effort. Once again she grinned as she took stock of the man waiting impatiently for her.

There was something about him that made her heart race, her hands go clammy and her thoughts scatter. Something intangible. She could feel it as much as see it. He made her want to stop and look. Well, more than look. Charisma that's what it was, she mused tiredly as she continued to look at him. Or maybe it was just sex appeal. She grinned at her idiotic thoughts. She was way too tired to decide if some man had sex appeal and she was in no state to do anything about it anyway.

Then it came to her. An agency. To get even, her dad had gone to an agency. Resourceful. Grace found herself chuckling beneath her breath. This could be fun. She could play along for a while. Enjoy being met by some gorgeous stranger. No strings. Just talk. Tiredness was temporarily vanquished.

With more zest in her than she really possessed, she pushed the trolley forward, heading for Joshua. The closer she got the more sure she was; he was a bought and paid for hunk. All for her. Yes, there was a God. Yes, yes, yes. 

Good choice dad. Her eyes took swift but detailed inventory just before she reached him. Chiseled looking, all planes and angles. Tanned to a golden brown, currently showing faint traces of evening stubble. Designer stubble? And those eyes. She'd thought they were black, until she got closer. Dark moss green, framed with lashes she would die for. Impatient green eyes she noted just before her own eyes left his face and moved down to his arms, to his hands, to his fingers. A light dusting of dark brown hair showing at the strong wrist. Long fingers and short clean nails.