Once downstairs, Channing led him into an elegant, exceptionally neat office furnished in gleaming cherry wood pieces. Beyond the large desk was a sitting room area with a beige couch and two matching upholstered chairs flanking a heavy coffee table. “Please sit down.” He opened a tall cabinet, pulled out a canister of wipes, and handed it to Grant. “Here. These will help get his scent off you.”
Grant sat on the couch and slumped, feigning exhaustion. He pulled out a wipe and sniffed it. Some kind of astringent smell, not strong enough to be offensive, but once it got into his nose, he could no longer detect the alluring omega fragrance. With regret, he rubbed the moist cloth over his hands and face while Channing retrieved bottles of water from the built-in refrigerator below the cabinet
