I met his stare, his damp curls and bare skin melting me into my sensible shoes. “That’s actually … kind of sweet.” I closed my eyes for a moment. “Please don’t do it again, though. Cam is about to have an aneurism over the mess.”
“Are you free Friday evening?”
I snorted, slapping my thigh like a moron. “I’m not sure. My social calendar is pretty full.”
“Have dinner with me. I’ll cook.”
I swallowed, chuckled, but choked on it when I realized he wasn’t joking. “You mean like a date? You and I?” My finger pointed back and forth between us.
His chin quirked, but it didn’t contain his amusement. “Your powers of observation are frightening.”
“Hardy-har-har.” I rolled my eyes, a mutinous smile creeping across my lips. “I-I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. I don’t know how to trust you after you’ve been such a dick, or myself for that matter, especially when you’re in the buff.” My palm smacked against my forehead. Fuck. “I think your nakedness is jamming my brain-to-mouth filter.”
Another deep laugh burst out of Ben while my cheeks felt as if they blazed. The bass sound vibrated down my spine and made me shiver.
His very large hand smoothed across his six-pack while I wished he’d used mine instead. “When we met, I asked you to prove yourself to me. It’s only fair you ask the same of me. Spend time with me, and if I haven’t changed your mind about me within four dates, then I’ll admit failure and leave you alone.”
Squinting, I kept my gaze above the danger zone, which included everything below his neck. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not asking me? What happens if I tell you to go to hell? Which I should, by the way.”
“I can be very persuasive, Evangeline.” Edging nearer, he traced his fingers along the fine line of hair down his midsection. “Do you believe me?”
I reached out for him before I could stop myself. He slipped his hand over mine, pulled me closer, and pressed my fingers against his warm, smooth chest. His heart raced beneath my touch, betraying a greater excitement or nervousness his calm exterior hid. His intoxicating, heady scent filled my senses. I sighed and leaned closer until my cheek rested against the side of his jaw, smooth and still moist from his shower.
My pulse sped as I tried to command my jelly legs without success. When my voice of reason broke through the images of Ben whipping off his towel and throwing me to the floor, I jerked my hand away, holding it over my heart as I stepped back.
A low moan escaped him as he rubbed a hand along his jaw. “Your skin is incredibly soft.”
Goosebumps popped up along my arms. “You didn’t answer me. What happens if I say no to our date?” I sounded breathless.
“I would never harm you, Evangeline. But I know you’re as attracted to me as I am to you, and you enjoyed my kiss, even if you won’t admit it. I’ll wear down your resistance to me eventually. It’s only a matter of time.” A dark smile spread across his lips. He winked, pulled his towel off, and fluffed his hair with it. “Be here by seven Friday night. I hope you like Italian.”
Ben turned and walked toward the hallway he’d come from, the muscles working in his firm, round ass with each step he took. Wow. I mean, damn. Just … damn. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from his scenery until he disappeared around the corner.
I had no idea how long I stood there, grinning like an idiot. When the cogs of my brain reconnected, I scowled and bolted out the door, down the stairs, and out of his office. I did not need him to come out again and find me still there.
I closed the outer door and leaned back against it, panting.
“Be here by seven,” I mocked in his voice. “Arrogant much?”
My girly bits throbbed against my will, and the memory of his kiss swept through me, filling me with fire again. I touched shaking fingers to my lips to stop the tingles. What would he do if I said no? Would he fill the building with roses next time? The entire city block? Something worse? What irked me the most was that I didn’t know if his little escapade was just another power trip for him, or if he truly had a romantic interest in me. It would drive me crazy until I discovered his motivations. How sad and pathetic did that make me?
How could I find out without him turning me into a giggling teenager every time he came near me? His mere presence had evaporated the anger I’d built on the way to his office. All he had to do was flash a little of that hot body and I’d probably sell him my soul for a penny, or maybe just for a glimpse of him naked again.
No, I was stronger than that, stronger than Mom, and I’d prove it. Fine, I’ll go, confirm he’s the ass I’m sure he is and then tell him to fuck off. My stomach twisted. If I did go, what would I wear? I had nothing other than work clothes and holey sweat pants. Even if I had racks of clothing around me, I wouldn’t have the first clue what would be appropriate. Fashion and I didn’t exist in the same universe together.
Brent appeared in his pink trench coat, a black attaché case hung over his shoulder, balancing a tray of coffee in one hand and clutching a Grindhouse bag in the other. When his eyes fell over me, he flashed a giant, white-toothed grin. “You dog! You stayed the night.”
A sound of disgust blasted out of me. “I did not stay the night. Cam called me in early and I came up here to give your boss a piece of my mind.”
Nodding with a smile, Brent set his load on his desk and bounded over, shaking a finger. “If you’re not all flushed from hot steamy sex, then do tell how you managed that lovely rosy glow on your face.”
I crossed my arms and averted my stare. “I told you. I came up here to yell at your boss.”
His laughter twittered into the room, making me smile. “Fine, keep your secrets. I’m not sure what the big deal is. I’ve snuck a few peeks at Mr. H., and I would totally hit that if I were you. Great taste in clothes, rocking bod, eyes to die for, and an ass that—”
“Brent!” I paced, rubbing my temples. I didn’t need reminders. Staring at his polished outfit of shining gray pants and a white button-down, I stopped as an idea bloomed in my head. All I needed to do was figure out how to broach the subject. “I have a hypothetical question for you. Let’s say a man was holding a dinner party and invited a woman. She doesn’t know him very well, only that he’s well-to-do. What would she wear to said dinner party?”
Brent’s pale storm cloud eyes lit up. He shrugged out of his pink coat and folded it over his arm, clearly thrilled I’d asked. “That would depend on a few details.”
Oh, lordy. Dare I ask? Fine. “Such as?”
“What time is the dinner?”
“Seven.”
Nodding in thought, he added, “Are you going out or staying in?”
“Staying in.” I threw up my hands. “What does any of this have to do with anything?”
He dismissed me with a flick of his fingers, heavy with golden rings. “Don’t interrupt a master at work. Do you want to turn him off, fuck him, or tease him?”
“I—we’re not talking about me, remember? And I don’t know. Make him wish he’d been nicer to her, I suppose, show him he isn’t all that and a chocolate bar as he thinks he is.”
Brent rolled his eyes and counted on his fingers. “Okay, so we have a man making dinner in his well-to-do home, later in the evening, and this,” he made air quotes, “woman wants to put on a little cock tease. Does that about cover it?”
I gestured for him to get on with it. “Yeah, okay. Tell me what she should wear?”
“I’ll do you one better.” Brent bounced, leaned in close, and put his hand on my arm. “Meet me at the front doors at four thirty this afternoon and I’ll take you shopping.”
I wiped a hand down my face, worms squirming in my stomach. “I told you—”
He held up his hand. “I might be blond, but I’m more than just a pretty face. I swear on my beloved grandmother’s soul that your secret will never pass my pouty little lips. And besides, I know what Mr. H. likes so you can thank me later.” With that, he returned to h
is desk, straightened his top button, and sat. “Just don’t piss him off too badly or we’ll all be in for a world of hurt. If I somehow get caught in the crossfire, I’m so haunting your ass.”
Was I really going to have dinner with Mr. Hathaway … alone … in his apartment? My mind answered with a flash of his body, water trickling down his stomach, followed by an echo of his deep laughter and his words, I like what I see.
I took a deep breath, exhaled. Yep, I was really going to do it, but only to show him he didn't have the power over me that he thought he did. Seriously.
Hell.
Chapter 10
Brent linked his arm through mine and tugged me along the center corridor of the mall. Glass storefronts filled with skinny clothing-covered mannequins in awkward poses lined either side of us. I concentrated on the hordes of people around us to keep my discomfort about the shopping venture off my face, and thanked my lucky stars he’d stopped skipping beside me.
“I still can’t believe you gave all of your roses away.” Brent’s gaze followed a man walking in front of us who wore tight leather pants.
“I didn’t give them all away, and besides, how would I have gotten eight million roses home on the bus?” The hypnotic wiggling of the guy in the leather drew my attention too.
Brent snorted, waved a hand at me. “I’d happily have driven them to your place for you.”
I stopped, raised an eyebrow. “Brent, you drive a Volkswagen Golf, not a tractor-trailer.”
He shrugged and grinned. “We could have made a few trips. You know, made a fun night of it.”
Brent wanted to spend time with me? That was a first. I didn’t have many friends. Or any, for that matter. “Well, it’s too late now. Once Cam sent out the e-mail, a swarm hit the IT office like piranhas on a bleeding leg. Paul said Jeremy cowered in the corner until they were finished fighting over who would get which vase.” I snickered. “Pisses me off that I wasn’t there to see it for myself.”
Brent gasped and folded his hands over his mouth before jumping up and down and pointing to a sign farther down the corridor. “Illiana’s. That’s where we’re going, my favorite boutique, like, ever.”
Squealing, he grabbed my hand and yanked me forward. I pulled against him, but he had more strength then I’d imagined his slim body could contain. When he didn’t relent, I gave up and jogged along with him, grinning at his flailing arm and bright eyes. We walked through racks of clothing, right to the back. Muttering to himself, he shoved me into a dressing room, followed me in, and shut the door.
“Okay,” he said, fanning himself with his hand. “Let me have a look at those legs.”
My lips folded down at their corners. “I most certainly will not. Why would you want that?”
The question earned me a grunt and an eye roll. “I need to know what length of skirt to look for, silly. If you’ve got smoking legs, we’re going to use them to our advantage.”
“Oh no.” I shook my head and held up my hand in an over-my-desiccated-corpse gesture. “Not only no, but hell no. I don’t do skirts, Brent.”
Mouth gaped open, he squinted and propped his hands on his hips. “You mean, like ever? You’ve never worn a dress?”
“Never have, never will.”
Brent tapped his foot, fists propped on his hips. “You can’t tease a man in slacks, Evangeline. Do you want my help or not?”
“Slacks?” A sudden laugh bubbled up my throat. “Who says slacks other than my grandmother?”
At first he narrowed his eyes, but they softened and he chuckled with me. He nudged my shoulder. “Shut up. Now drop the,” he made air quote, “pants and let me see those legs. Don’t be shy. You’re not exactly my type.”
His corny wink made me laugh again. “Fine, Mr. Bossy Pants.” I undid my belt, unzipped, and stepped out of my dress pants. As he stared at me, I posed with my hands on my hips, turned and then swept them across my thighs like a game show model.
“Hell, girl! You’ve got curves, and I don’t mean in a bad way. Yee-haw. Short skirt it is.” He rubbed his hands together, then scowled. “Speaking of your grandmother, I think you put on her underwear by accident. Tell me you have something other than those old cotton nasties?”
My brow wrinkled. “I’m not having sex with him, Brent. Why does my underwear matter?”
He flicked fingers at me, rolled his eyes. “We’ll be hitting Silk and Satin, and that’s final.”
Before I could protest, he whipped open the door, went out, and shut it behind him, shouting, “You stay and strip the rest of the way. I’ll bring you some things to try on.”
“Aye-aye, capt’n.” I saluted, even though he couldn’t see it, reducing myself to a giggling mass again. Icky dresses aside, I had to admit hanging out with Brent was fun.
The first three dresses Brent threw over the top of the dressing room door were so frightening I didn’t even try them on. Never. Gonna. Happen. Two of them had slits nearly up to the waist and were cut low enough to expose most of my upper belly. Sheesh. I’d have been more covered by a few elastic bands than those dresses.
“I’ve found it,” he said through the door, his voice high with excitement. “Let me in.”
I groaned and opened the door. “This one had better be bigger than a Band-Aid.”
Gaze determined, he held out a simple dress, fitted at the waist. “Cornflower blue, to bring out those Elizabeth Taylor eyes of yours. It’s made of soft silk so it’ll be comfortable. It’ll fall just above your knee, and the black vine embroidery makes it very Asian chic.”
I took the dress, my head bobbing as I assessed it. Not bad. Not bad at all. “Fine. I’ll try it on.”
“Damn right you will.” He flipped his hair and grinned.
After I pulled the cool fabric over my head and wiggled it into place, Brent zipped up the back and yanked me out of the room.
“Just wait, I haven’t even checked to see if I’m covered.” I stumbled along beside him. “Where are we going?”
We rushed toward a platform at the end of the dressing room doors, surrounded almost completely with mirrors. He pushed me in front of him, held my hand while I stepped up, and followed after me.
I stood, transfixed by the girl staring back at me. The dress shimmered in the light, and my eyes had never looked so blue. Wide strips of fabric covered my shoulders and the bodice dipped down a little farther between the boobage than I would have liked but didn’t descend into streetwalker domain.
Brent fidgeted with the dress and then stood back with his fist pressed to his chin. “Am I good or what?” He offered a blinding smile, pulled the hair tie out of my ponytail, and smoothed my hair down my back. “Who knew you had a nice rack under those hideous shirts you always wear. We’ll definitely need a different bra to showcase them properly.”
I laughed. “Brent! Christ, you’re blunt. You’re like the brother I’ve always wanted.”
“Ahh.” He hugged me from behind. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me. So, you like?”
“Yeah, I think this is the one. Even I can’t stop staring at my tits.”
Spewing a squeal, he jumped and twittered, put his hands on my shoulders and stared at me via the mirror. “I’m off to find you the perfect shoes. Do. Not. Move.” With a giggle, he bounded down the hall.
“Something I can walk in,” I shouted over my shoulder.
“Can’t hear you,” he said in a singsong tone as he skipped around the corner.
While I waited, I inspected the frayed ends of my hair. I hadn’t cut it in a few years and it showed. Maybe Brent knew of a hairdresser who could fit me in the next day or Friday after work?
“There you are.”
A deep voice came from behind me. I flinched so hard I almost stumbled off the back of the platform. When I looked up at the reflection of a man in the mirror, a jolt as good as lightning shot through my core, and a stupid grin ate up my face. “Ben?”
As he stepped onto the miniature stage behind me,
a familiar malignant smile brought recognition I could have done without. His tanned skin glowed bronze under the lights. “Guess again, kitten.”
My upper lip curled. Tension buzzed down my body as I whirled around to face him. “What do you want, Richard?” Disdain colored my tone.
“I’ve tried to find a moment alone with you since we met.” He ran his fingers through his dark curls and pulled at the cuffs of his dark blue dress shirt. “Mmm. You do look smashing in silk.” Moaning, he circled me, looking me up and down. “The way it hugs your curves could give a man wood from a mile away.”
I edged away from him. “So … you followed me here? Ben didn’t tell me you were a creepy stalker on top of being a pig.”
His smile faltered, fingers curled into fists.
I tried to dodge around him but he grabbed me by the upper arm, wrapped his other hand around my mouth, and dragged me into one of the fitting rooms. Screaming only worked if I had air, but I struggled to draw any in through his enormous fingers. Tiny whimpers were all I managed to utter when he shoved me against the wall to face him and pressed his body against mine.
Richard’s hand slipped down to my throat, and his stare locked on to mine. The dark glint in his eyes sent a tremble along my spine. If the eyes were truly the windows to the soul, his was a black malignancy that held no light, no compassion, nothing but evil intent.
“Shhh.” His sickly sweet breath brushed against my lips. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited for Benjamin to allow a woman into his life again.”
A chill swept through me. Again? “Why?” The word came out in a faint whisper.
“Because, my precious kitten, he has something of mine and I want it.”
Trembling, I swallowed and tried to pry my fingers beneath his to break their hold on my throat, but I might as well have tried to move iron bars with toothpicks. “What does that have to do with me?”
“He tries very hard not to care about anything or anyone after my last attempt at coercion, but the way he defended you the other day … he must know I’ve found his weakness at last.” Richard pressed his mouth hard against mine.
Crossing Hathaway Page 9
