Adversaries and Lovers

by Patricia Watters

  Ben shrugged. "I don't see it that way."

  "No, I don't suppose you do. What I don't understand is, if you can walk away from your house and everything in it, why do you surround yourself with works of art you created with your own hands?"

  "It's all in the eye of the beholder," Ben said. "I don't consider the pieces I've done works of art, only meaningless fabrications made from idle hands."

  "Do you consider Rembrandt's paintings meaningless fabrications made from idle hands?' she asked.

  "I can't speak for Rembrandt," Ben replied, "only for myself."

  "Then beautiful things mean nothing to you?"

  "Sure they do," Ben said, "but I refuse to let them possess me."

  "And I think you're afraid that something, or someone, might touch your heart," Kate said, holding his gaze.

  Ben studied her soberly, and as she looked into his eyes, Kate caught a glimpse of sadness, like windows opening to a soul that harbored pain. But the moment was fleeting, leaving her with a nagging uneasiness that she’d just touched on some hidden truth. She wanted to smile in triumph but didn't, because to do so seemed, for some inexplicable reason, a hollow victory. She did, however, like the feeling of power over Ben, marginal as it was. Then, the sadness vanished, replaced by amusement. “If I go through life unscathed,” he said, “it’s because I don’t make decisions or take actions based on emotions, but instead on logic, reason and self-control.”

  Feeling an uncharacteristic boldness, Kate reached up and said, while tracing the firm line of his lips with her finger, "And if a woman turns the tables on you, are you still able to maintain that unshakable self-control you're so proud of?"

  A new light came into his eyes. "Go ahead. Test me."

  Kate knew she was playing with fire, but she refused to back down. Bracing her hands on Ben's chest, she tilted her face up and pressed her mouth to his, and with the tip of her tongue, traced the line of his compressed lips. She’d proved her point and had no intention of going any further, when his hands came up to cup the back of her head. He threaded his fingers through her hair, tipping her head back, and covered her mouth with his with a hunger that took Kate by surprise, evoking a longing she wasn't prepared to acknowledge. She curved her arms around him, her lips moving against his, their tongues twisting and tangling in sensuous surrender. As the kiss deepened, her chest felt tight, her heart started pounding, and her breathing came so fast she had to break the kiss to gulp in air. Stunned and confused, she moved away from him. Folding her arms, her hands clasping her forearms, she said with irony, "Have I made my point?"

  Ben stared at her, eyes luminous in the subdued light. Then a muscle tensed in his jaw and he said, soberly, "I’ll see you Friday at four.” He left abruptly, pulling the door behind.

  Kate stared at the door, bewildered by his hasty departure. She felt a nagging uneasiness that something profound had just happened, that their odd liaison had just moved to a new level. She didn't know whether she wanted to move with Ben to that new level though, but she sensed that if he wanted her there, she'd go willingly. Like a lemming following the piper to the sea.

  ***

  After a week, Kate still couldn’t shake the expression in Ben's eyes after their heated kiss. Nor could she reason through his hasty departure. What she did know was that there was far more to Ben Stassen than she’d initially thought. In fact, he was the most complex and multifaceted man she’d ever met. He was also expecting her in his office at four o’clock, but she’d been puttering around doing menial tasks, so anxious about seeing him again after their passionate kiss, that it was already well past four.

  Grabbing her portfolio, she left for downtown Portland. Twenty minutes later, as she stood in the elevator that would take her to the eighth floor of the lofty building and the offices of Stassen Sports Gear, she felt a curious fluttering in her stomach that had nothing to do with the fact that she’d skipped lunch. Something happened during the heated kiss that changed the dynamics of their peculiar association, and she had no idea what to expect from Ben now.

  Whatever it was, she definitely did not expect to find him standing in his office, dressed in a tie-dyed tee-shirt and gray sweats, and wearing the most peculiar-shaped swim fins she’d ever seen. She found herself smiling. He didn’t smile back. Instead, he acknowledged her with a brief nod and said to his secretary. “Carla, get me a pair of women’s medium fins—” he turned, and his eyes ranged the full-length of Kate “—and a ladies Sealskin size six.”

  “Any special color on the Sealskin, Mr. Stassen?”

  Ben looked at Kate, held her gaze for a moment, and replied, “Green.”

  Kate’s smile shriveled. She eyed him with wariness. “I hope you don’t expect me to do what I’m thinking,” she said, nervously fingering the top button of her shirt.

  “Test the products?" Ben said. "I told you we’d be doing that,”

  “You said motorcycle helmets, not bathing suits,” Kate said, the timbre of her voice cranking up a notch.

  “I said products,” Ben retorted. “And we won’t be testing bathing suits, only swim fins. You can test in the raw, swim in what you’re wearing, or change into a Sealskin. Your choice.”

  Kate glared at him. “And where, exactly, do you intend for me to test your swim fins? At your cozy little hideaway in an oversized hot tub made from a giant steam boiler!?”

  One corner of Ben's mouth tipped up, then flattened, as if he were holding back a smile, and he said, “We’ll be testing them in the pool on the roof of the building."

  “We?”

  Ben shrugged. “How else can I get your input?”

  Carla returned with a thin silver foil box tucked under her arm and a pair of the peculiar swim fins hanging from her fingertips. “Will there be anything else, Mr. Stassen?” she asked.

  “Yes. Tell callers I’m testing equipment and won’t be back for a couple of hours.”

  Kate looked at Ben, nonplussed. “Two hours to test a pair of swim fins?”

  “Two hours for you to test, evaluate, and pitch me ideas on how best to promote them." Ben slid the box with the bathing suit across the conference table, and said, “You can change in the ladies dressing room down the hall. Then come back here and I’ll take you up to the pool.”

  Kate stared at him. “Surely you don’t expect me to parade around here wearing only this—” she waved a box so thin it couldn't contain more than a bikini.

  Ben eyed her with undisguised annoyance. “Our models do it all the time." As he said the words, two tall, slender women in bathing suits paraded past the open doorway.

  “I’m not one of your models,” Kate snapped. “In fact, I can’t imagine that you expect every artist you hire to go through this.”

  Bracing his palms against the conference table, Ben eyed her steadily, and said, “Every artist I’ve hired has gone through this, but none bitched about it. Most welcome the chance to swim in a rooftop pool instead of pitching ideas in a stuffy conference room." When he said nothing more, Kate realized she’d been dismissed.

  She turned and made her way down the hallway to the dressing room. Un-tucking the flap at the end of the foil box, she pulled out a one-piece suit and held it up. The plain, satiny suit with its high-cut front and wide straps seemed reasonably modest. It wasn’t until she slipped into it and viewed herself in the mirror that she realized how revealing it was, with its leg holes cut high on her hips. It was obviously a racing suit intended to glide through the water without resistance. The slinky fabric clung to every curve and angle of her body like an iridescent-green skin, delineating her breasts with their puckered tips, and the sharp angles of her hips, and the abs in her tummy, and even the slight mound of hair at the juncture of her thighs. And as she stared at her all-but-naked image, and imagined Ben’s eyes scanning the length of her, a shiver of anticipation coursed through her, settling below her belly.

  She also realized Ben’s attitude toward her had changed since their kiss. No more banterin
g, no more teasing, just irritation and indifference. So maybe his demand that she test the fins was nothing more than that, and she was being emotional. Still, she had no intention of parading down the hall and into the elevator with Ben, where she'd stand all but nude in her iridescent-green skin, while the elevator crawled up to the twenty-sixth floor of the building.

  She looked around the dressing room with its tile floor, line-up of make-up vanities, and glass-enclosed showers, and spotted a full-length cabinet. Inside, she found shelves lined with white towels and wash cloths, each carrying the Stassen Sports Gear logo. Taking a bath towel, she draped it around her shoulders and returned to Ben’s office. When she stepped into the room, he barely took notice of her, and she found it oddly disturbing, though she couldn’t reason why. He was, after all, the enemy. Although she was quickly making her way up the ladder as an artist, she was definitely at the bottom rung with Ben in convincing him to find another location for the corporate office. She also noticed that he still wore his tee-shirt and sweats, which annoyed her. She’d barely conjured the words in her mind, when she found herself saying, “Obviously you expect women to parade around here half-naked, while you do as you please.”

  Ben eyed her with irritation. “Let’s just set the record straight then." He yanked off the swim fins and shrugged out of his tee-shirt and sweats, leaving her staring at an iridescent-blue Sealskin suit that hugged his narrow hips and dipped low on his belly, drawing attention to the blatant, packed-in bulge of his well-endowed male anatomy. “Are you satisfied?”

  Realizing she was staring, Kate raised her eyes to meet his gaze, and replied, “Uh... yes... I mean... I’m satisfied that... men… uh… parade around here like that too...”

  “Good.” Ben grabbed both pairs of fins, tossed a towel over his shoulder, and left the room, Kate close behind. As they rode up the elevator, Kate stood in front of Ben, while staring at her own reflection in the polished silver elevator doors. But when she raised her gaze, the dark eyes in the sober face reflected off the shiny surface were looking directly at her. Deciding it was time she broke the ice cloak that seemed to have encased Ben, for whatever reason, she said to his reflection, “You seem distracted and uptight."

  Holding her gaze, Ben replied, “It’s been a long day. ‘

  “Too much wine, women and song?”

  Again that half-smile, and again it flattened. “Maybe too little.”

  Kate felt the warmth of his bare chest radiating through the towel draped over her back and realized he’d moved closer. But he was no longer staring at her reflection in the elevator doors. Instead, he was looking down at her. He raised his hand, as if to touch her shoulder, and though it fell back, she could feel invisible fingers against her skin from the touch that never came. She had to fight the bizarre and unexplainable urge to turn and slip her arms around his neck and kiss him until she couldn't breathe. But the whole idea was absurd. The man meant nothing to her. Yet, the pull was unlike anything she'd ever known, and she had to remind herself that he was the one person she must not give her heart to. But as difficult as it was to remember he was her enemy, she knew it would be yet harder to dismiss from her mind the sight of his lean, muscular torso, and the masculine bulge beneath his sealskin suit. For twenty-four years she'd prided herself on her ability to guard her virginity for her perfect mate. But for the first time since she'd reached puberty, she felt her resolve seriously challenged.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Kate stepped out of the elevator and into the pool enclosure, a huge space encircled by large windows that looked out onto a panoramic view of the city. Ben tossed both pairs of swim fins near where Kate stood and told her he'd be back in a few minutes, leaving her standing by the side of the pool. She looked around. In a wide area at one end of the pool were cabana tables, and beyond the tables was a cocktail bar and a line-up of bar stools. An attendant, dressed in Hawaiian garb, appeared to be closing the bar.

  The sound of someone springing off a diving board caught Kate's attention. She glanced around to find Ben at the opposite end of the pool, twisting and tumbling in mid air before opening like a jack knife and slicing through the water with barely a splash. In near perfect form, he swam the length of the pool to where she stood, and lunged out of the water, then sat on the edge. “Are you ready?” he asked, reaching for one large fin.

  Kate's gaze moved over his broad chest, now glistening beneath the overhead lights as droplets of water made their way over the hard contours, and as he fastened a swim fin onto his foot, she found herself captivated by the play of muscles in his arms. He looked up and caught her staring. She gave a nervous little laugh, and said, “Ready... yes, well... I suppose...”

  “Then you have to drop the towel and put on your swim fins," he said, still without humor.

  Feeling tightly bunched fists against her chest, Kate realized she was clutching the towel with both hands. She had no idea why she was reluctant to drop it though. She’d never been self-conscious about displaying herself in a swimsuit before, considering her figure above average. But the thought of Ben’s eyes on her, as she stood in front of him in her iridescent-green skin, made her body come alive in ways she'd never known.

  She lowered herself to the edge of the pool and shrugged her shoulders, allowing the towel to fall away. Reaching for one of the swim fins that Ben had tossed there earlier, she slipped her foot into it. The V-shaped clasp on its strap was as peculiar as the fin itself, and while she struggled to fasten the legs of the clasp onto the connector on the fin, with nervous fingers, Ben pushed her hand aside, and with his palm cupping her heel, fastened the clip with no effort. Before releasing her foot, he stared at it for an inordinate amount of time. Then his thumb brushed over the delicate gold chain encircling her ankle, and he said, “I didn’t know women still wore those things.” His eyes were sober, his face cheerless.

  “It belonged to my mother," Kate said, pulling her foot from his hand. "I’ve worn it since I was thirteen—” She stopped short of adding, when my parents were killed in a car accident. She reached for the other fin and slipped her foot into it, but this time Ben made no move to help her with the clasp. After fumbling with the thing until she'd finally secured it, she said, “Now what?”

  Ben shrugged. “Swim around and get used to the feel of the fins, then we’ll talk about ad ideas and marketing strategies." He was all business again. No dark eyes scanning the length of her. No indication that he even noticed her at all. He pushed off, leaving her sitting at the edge of the pool feeling an odd sense of disappointment with his continued detachment. Which was absurd. He was, after all, her adversary.

  For the next fifteen minutes Ben swam laps like he was in a marathon race, and Kate wondered if he was trying to rid himself of pent up energy, or maybe excessive testosterone—she had not missed the telltale sign plainly evident beneath his form-fit suit. But there seemed to be other issues. From the moment she'd arrived he'd been reserved. He was plainly disturbed about something. She'd assumed it had to do with their passionate kiss and his hasty departure. But maybe she was placing too much emphasis on herself, jumping to the conclusion that she meant something to him, which was absurd. She hadn't known him long enough for that. But there was no question that if he was not disturbed about her, he was disturbed about something.

  Deciding she’d better get on with the reason she was there, she eased into the water and pushed off, then began kicking in short, choppy strokes. Water splashed like a paddle wheel in all directions, but she seemed to be going nowhere. Making her way back to the side of the pool, she gave another push. Again, she kicked up an eruption of splashing water, and again she barely moved. She had just turned to make her way back to the side of the pool when Ben said, “You’re working too hard. You need to move your legs slowly and let the fins do the work."

  To her shock, he slipped his arm around her from behind, drawing her back and shoulders against his chest, and started kicking his legs in slow, easy movements. As he propelled th
em around the pool, she began to feel the cadence of his kicking, and she started moving her legs in sync with his. Together they glided through the water, as if one. Although she was aware of how intimately Ben was holding her, with his arm crossing in front of her and pressed snugly beneath her breasts, she didn't try to break the contact. It seemed right, like their bodies were designed fit together. Then she felt Ben's lips against her temple, and his arm beneath her breasts drew her tighter to him, as if he were trying to be yet closer to her. Almost overcome by their nearness, she went to move his hand so she could turn in his arms and face him, but when she did, his arm around her tightened and he said, in an ragged voice, “Don’t leave... stay with me, sweetheart.”

  Every muscle in Kate's body seemed to go slack. She knew instinctively that the words had not been for her, though she didn't know why she felt that way. She also knew that moments before, as she'd glided with Ben through the water, she'd wanted to turn in his arms and press her body against his and spiral beneath the water with him in a kind of underwater dance of love…

  Abruptly, he released her and said, “I think you’ve got the idea." He swam away, leaving her bobbing in the water and staring after him. He lunged out of the pool and sat on the edge, arms stiff, hands braced on the rim, a grim look on his face.

  All at once, everywhere his body had touched hers seemed cold, and Kate felt a chill rush through her. When she glanced over at Ben, he was watching her with an intensity she didn’t try to understand. She began paddling around, trying to act as if he wasn’t there, as if his presence had no affect on her. But whenever she chanced a look in his direction, his eyes were still on her.

  Wanting to be away from the disturbing awareness of Ben’s open stare, she kicked her legs in slow easy movements. To her surprise, she glided effortlessly through the water. At the far end of the pool, she ducked beneath the surface and descended. As she hovered near the bottom of the pool, while moving her hands in languid circles to keep from rising to the surface, she felt an odd sense of tranquility. She wanted to stay in the peaceful refuge, suspended in her weightless world, a place, it seemed, where there were no uncertainties, only a quiet calmness. No uncertainties, that is, except for the fact that she was running out of air.