Fearless

by Priscilla West

  "Sounds more like a fantasy than a real person." Actually that sounded a lot like someone I met this morning. "Why don't we just say I like the 'nice and caring' type."

  "Basically boring then, huh?"

  "Boring to you, satisfying to me. Why would you want someone dark and dangerous? And if he's so hot, wouldn't you be concerned he'd cheat on you?"

  "I'd just have to blow his mind." Her mischievous wink made it clear what she meant. "But to each her own."

  We spent the rest of the afternoon bathing our skin in UV rays and trying out the local food. Fortunately, there were enough tourists streaming through Cape Town that the restaurants provided menus in English. I thought chicken would taste the same no matter where you were but whatever special sauce they used made it exceptionally delicious. We explored the area, stopping periodically to point out unique architecture or unusual occurrences. Although I'd told Riley I wasn't interested in dating, I couldn't help but indulge in idle thoughts about Vincent. Maybe I'd spent way too much time memorizing his files.

  It was evening by the time we were hungry again. Despite wearing comfy sneakers, our feet were killing us from all the walking. Riley suggested we rest at a local bar to relieve our weary legs and grab some grub. We were off the beaten path by this point and the bar she picked looked sketchy.

  "It'll be fun. Don't you want to get an authentic experience? We didn't fly thousands of miles just to go to some bar we could go to back home."

  "Yeah, but we're two American girls in a foreign country. There are horror movies based on this situation."

  "What's the worst that can happen?" Her grin made me ill at ease.

  "Don't say that."

  "Look, I have some mace in my bag. If anybody tries to get frisky with us, I'm going to melt their eyeballs." I pictured Riley as the female version of Rambo.

  "All right, fine. If we get abducted, it's your fault. I just don't want you saying I'm a party pooper."

  She laughed. "I've never said that. You just like to be cautious, which I respect. Remember when you warned me about Danny? You were right, he did turn out to be a creep."

  Riley had dated Danny a few months prior. When she brought him over to our apartment he kept giving me shifty-eyed stares. I expressed my concerns to her and it turned out he had done time in prison for theft. He wasn't even the worst of Riley's extensive dating history. I honestly didn't know how she found some of these guys.

  Upon entering, we found the place was full of mostly locals. There were a few expats in the corner who sounded British and were probably out for some adventure. Somewhere there was a speaker putting out exotic tribal music. The hypnotic beats were catchy but it certainly was a far cry from American pop music—no Miley Cyrus here. When we found a seat at a table and ordered margaritas, I found myself easing into the atmosphere.

  "Man, check this place out." Riley sounded excited. She pointed at the decorations around us. "Animal bones hanging on the walls, a shrunken head behind the bar, and a beat-up sign that says 'Ompad'. Isn't it cool?" She whipped out her phone to snap some pictures.

  The distinct sound of a shot glass slamming against wood alerted us to a commotion brewing near the bar. A group of onlookers surrounded two men with tumblers in hand and a bottle half-full of amber liquid between them. The one on the left was a juggernaut of a man; a gruff beard and mean stare completed the intimidation factor. The gathering of curious spectators obscured my view of the man on the right.

  "What's going on over there?" Riley asked.

  I knew we shouldn't have gotten closer. The feeling in my gut that whatever was going on over there was trouble told me we should leave, but intense curiosity pulled us near the action like moths to a flame.

  We settled at a table nearby, giving us front row seats. It was when I saw who the figure poised on the right was that I realized why my alarm bells had gone off.

  Vincent.

  What was he doing here? He was wearing a white button-down and khakis that showcased his lean muscular build. By now the crowd around the bar had grown considerably, tantamount with the noise level. Most huddled around Vincent's side. Some of the admirers included beautiful, curvaceous women that were all but rubbing their breasts against Vincent, and a pang of jealousy hit me from who knows where.

  Riley shouted to me over the ruckus. "Is that who I think it is?"

  "Yeah, it's Vincent," I said. "Looks like he's in the middle of some kind of drinking game."

  I couldn't hear her response over the cheering. The only two words I managed to decipher were "fucking" and "hot."

  I leaned in closer to her. "I can't hear you."

  "I said you should go over there. This could be your second chance to win him over."

  "What? I don't even know what he's doing. He might not even remember me."

  "You pinched his goddamn nipple, of course he'll remember you. Go find out." She nudged my shoulder but I remained steadfast in my seat. As serendipitous as this encounter was, I wasn't comfortable with the idea of approaching Vincent in this strange social situation. If Richard had been right about the meeting going well, talking to Vincent could sabotage our efforts rather than help.

  "Let's just watch them a little first."

  We witnessed the burly guy down his shot, slam his glass against the counter, and grunt something in Afrikaans. I couldn't understand it, but if I had to guess by the tone, it meant "Is that the best you got?" He then reached into a nearby bag sitting on the counter and produced a large clear jar. I squinted my eyes to identify the contents. Thin strands, black dots scurrying.

  Cobwebs and spiders.

  The crowd didn't seem surprised, instead they clamored approval like they were at a sporting event. Why would he have such a thing? And here of all places. I hate spiders.

  My disgust and surprise must have been palpable because Vincent turned his head in my direction as if attuned to my specific frequency. For the second time today, we locked eyes. A part of me wanted to hide from the embarrassment of this morning, another part of me knew my company had important business to conduct with him.

  Before I decided whether I was going to wave at him or shrink behind the crowd of bodies, a ghost of a smile touched his lips.

  He waved me over. In disbelief, I pointed my finger at my chest as I mouthed "me?" and he nodded. What did he want with me? I looked to Riley for advice and was met with eager shooing motions. Sensing an opportunity to clear up any confusion over this morning's meeting, I worked my way through the crowd to him. The women around him were reluctant to make room, shooting me catty-glares, but I managed to wiggle through an opening.

  "Hello Kristen," he said.

  He did remember my name. "Hello Mr. Sorenson."

  "Please, just call me Vincent. I didn't expect to see you here, but now that you are, this'll be a lot more interesting." He grinned.

  I wasn't sure what he meant. Confused by the whole situation, I asked, "What are you doing here, Vincent?"

  "Business. And you're going to decide if you want to help me." He gestured to the big guy and his bizarre pet spiders.

  Okay . . . that doesn't explain a whole lot.

  "I should tell you, Mr. Sorenson. I have a fear of spiders," I said, eyeing the jar.

  He leaned close to my ear so I could hear him. "All the better. You asked for my money earlier today, Kristen." His smoky voice was implacable. "I wasn't impressed. Here's your second chance to convince me to trust you with my assets."

  Shit. We did blow the meeting this morning. I gulped. "What do you want me to do?"

  As if to answer my question, the hulk uncapped the jar and picked out a spider with a pair of chopsticks.

  The sight of the tiny black creature outside its confines made me panic. I tried to escape but Vincent caught my elbow in a light but secure grip and pulled me to him. "You're fine, trust me. Just watch."

  With his hand on the filled shot glass, the big guy placed the spider on the skin between his thumb and forefinger. The spider—
whose backside displayed a red dot—remained surprisingly still, perhaps in as much suspense as I was. Never taking his eyes off the poisonous creature, the big guy slowly brought the drink to his lips, keeping his hand steady, and in one smooth motion downed the contents, flicked the spider off his hand, and crushed the arachnid as he slammed his glass on the bar. The crowd erupted in cheers.

  The big guy looked expectantly at me and Vincent. His steely eyes said "your turn".

  "You're not seriously going to do that are you?" I blurted without thinking.

  His eyes narrowed as he smiled. "I am. And you're going to help me by putting the spider on my hand."

  I was about to say "hell no" but thought better when I noticed his probing eyes. "I'm really not comfortable with this."

  "Consider it a test. How far are you willing to go to serve my interests?"

  I felt my breaths shorten. "Are we talking about money here or poisonous spiders? Because those are two very different things."

  "Believe it or not, there's a lot at stake if I don't follow through." He gestured to a pile of documents on the counter. I couldn't read the language, but from the formatting I could tell they were contract documents—so this wasn't just a wager between two inflated egos. "I imagine there's also a lot at stake for you."

  "What if it bites you?"

  "Let me worry about that. If it does, it won't be your fault."

  "What if it climbs up and bites me?"

  "I won't let it happen. Trust me, you'll be fine."

  This wasn't professional; this was insane. Crazy. I'd never done anything close to this dangerous before. If I had known I'd have to handle deadly bugs to win clients, I might not have taken this job in the first place.

  I was stuck between a rock and a hard place: don't do it and for sure lose Vincent as a client; do it and possibly kill both the hottest man I'd ever met and my career. Either way, I was screwed.

  I glanced over at Riley and saw her give me a thumbs up.

  Damn you, Vincent. I picked up the chopsticks and unscrewed the jar, grimacing as I lowered the utensil inside. When I touched one of the creatures, it moved and I instinctively retracted my hand.

  "No way. I can't do this," I exclaimed.

  "Giving up so soon? Nothing worth pursuing comes without risk."

  Inflamed by his taunting, I tried again. This time the black creature didn't move and I was able to clamp it with the chopsticks. It felt hard and squishy at the same time and when I pulled it out and got a better view of its wriggling legs, it took every ounce of willpower not to throw it across the bar. My hands were trembling and I was afraid I'd drop the spider or worse, rile it up enough to bite Vincent. Then a warm hand around my upper arm steadied me.

  "You're doing great. Just relax a little. Focus on controlling your own body, not on what you're holding."

  "Easier said than done," I replied, even though his advice seemed to be working.

  The next few moments were a blur, but I somehow managed to place the spider gently on Vincent's hand. He downed his drink and went the extra mile by flicking the spider back into the jar instead of killing it.

  Once again, the bar roared approval.

  Afraid I would have to do it again, I turned to the big guy and was relieved to see him passed out on the counter.

  Vincent had won.

  It wasn't long before the ruckus died down. The big guy had woken up, signed the contract, shook Vincent's hand, and left. The crowd had dissipated and Riley was now being entertained by one of the British guys from the expat group. I found myself seated beside Vincent at a cozy table in a secluded part of the bar, alone.

  Even with all the alcohol I imagined was flowing through his system, Vincent looked as sober as a judge. Not only were his nerves steel, but so was his blood. I began to wonder if those were the only parts . . .

  "What can I get you to drink?" Vincent asked, flagging the waitress.

  I considered avoiding more alcohol in case we discussed business, but I didn't want to be rude either. "A mojito please."

  The waitress flashed a flirty smile at Vincent before leaving, which made me bristle.

  He returned his attention back to me. "I'm surprised. You struck me as more damsel than dame."

  The comment was decidedly personal and I felt justified in taking offense. "And you strike me as more reckless than brave. Why were you in a drinking contest with a spider-loving thug?"

  His sinful lips curved into a wicked smile. "You can't always judge people by their appearance. Nambe is a real estate mogul. He owns a lot of property in the area including this bar. I wanted one of his private beaches and he set the terms. You'll find the most successful people play by their own rules."

  His comment made me recall how far I had just gone to win him over as a client. "Do all your business transactions involve endangering your life?"

  "Just the interesting ones. The bite wouldn't have been fatal if I went to the hospital immediately. When you want something bad enough, sometimes it's surprising what you're willing to do." He adjusted his seat and his leg brushed mine sending an unwelcome flutter through my belly.

  The waitress returned with my drink and I took a sip, relishing the taste more than I should have. "Does that apply to swimming with sharks and jumping off cliffs?" I said, feeling emboldened by the mojito as well as the other alcoholic beverages I'd consumed since setting foot inside this bar.

  "It applies to whatever gives me a thrill. What gives you a thrill Kristen? Besides winning my account."

  Unsure if that was a flirtatious line or an accusation, I answered, "Who says that gives me a thrill?"

  "It makes you good at your job. Pitch aside, the materials you gave me were polished."

  "Thank you." I flustered at the compliment. It was rare to have my work given the appreciation I felt it deserved even by my colleagues, let alone a client.

  "What would you do if I chose your company?"

  "You're saying after I did all that, you're still not convinced you can trust us with your money?"

  "What you did puts Waterbridge-Howser back in the running. After your partner insulted my intelligence this morning I had almost ruled you out."

  Crap. "I'm truly sorry about that, it wasn't intentional. We were just trying to be persuasive and it seems we missed the mark."

  "Fair enough." He stirred his drink and shrugged. "I'm curious, what are you doing in a bar like this?"

  The question sounded like he thought I was here on the prowl—which was not at all the reason. "It was my friend Riley's idea." I pointed a blaming finger at Riley across the bar, who seemed to be too enamored with her company to notice. "She's a little adventurous."

  "So are you," he said touching my hand with the tip of his finger. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

  "Excuse me?" The conversation had turned decidedly flirtatious and I wasn't sure how to react. I'd never been hit on by a potential client before and there were no company guidelines addressing this type of situation. Regardless of how attracted I was to Vincent, if anybody at work suspected I was mixing business with pleasure, my professional reputation would be ruined. I'd seen it happen before.

  "Don't tell me your partner is."

  "You mean Richard? He's definitely not my boyfriend."

  "Good. So you're single." He leaned his breathtaking face closer to mine heightening awareness of him.

  I stood my ground. "Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. Either way I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I don't date potential clients," I said, hoping the brush-off would end the personal discussion and we could return to talking about business.

  Those seductive lips so close to mine curved into a smile. "Who says anything about dating? I just want to finish what you started this morning."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "We were here." He gently but firmly took my hand in his and placed it on his chest. The move caught me off guard and all I could do was suck in a deep breath when I felt the sudden warmth of his body and the strong beat
of his heart beneath my palms. "Let's move it further." He began to move my hand slowly downward. As my fingertips traced the hard contours at the base of his pecs and the firm cut of his stomach through his shirt, goosebumps ran across my skin and the hairs on the back of my neck stiffened. My pulse quickened and my lips parted to accommodate faster breaths. It wasn't until my fingers reached the base of his stony abs that my mind caught up and I pulled away.

  "This morning was an innocent mistake," I shot back, aware I was more aroused than offended by the gesture. "I don't know what kind of girl you think I am exactly, but I don't mix business with pleasure."

  "I do." His sexy voice could tear down any woman's defenses. I knew I had to get away, afraid I wouldn't be an exception.

  "Good for you. Thank you for the drink Mr. Sorenson but if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to my friend." I rose from my seat with the intention of leaving but turned back to that gorgeous face one last time. "If you're still interested in Waterbridge-Howser, you have Richard's number."

  His lips curled into that same wicked smile from earlier. "We'll be in touch."