Page 10

10

BEN

Quickly reaching under my desk, I press a button to switch the A/C up. She already knows she’s got me spinning a little with that blatant leg cross to show off her toned thigh. And I really don’t want to explain that seeing her leant over my desk, exposing her lace clad breasts to me, has me breaking out in a sweat. Normally I’m the one in control in any situation, but with her, I find myself lacking the control I need. But if she thinks I’ll just gift her the upper hand, she’s got another think coming.

I drag my eyes away from hers and scan over the paper she handed me, keeping my features schooled. Her qualifications are impressive. She’s worked nearly her whole life. Summer jobs when she was younger, a lot of tutoring. She’s obviously been teaching for most of her life. She must enjoy it, so why leave it all behind now? Something doesn’t add up. Instead of letting her see my admiration for her work ethic, or the curiosity over why she left her teaching role, I set my mouth in a straight line and keep my eyes blank. I’m not laying all my cards on the table. Mean? Maybe. Necessary in regaining the upper hand? Abso-fucking-lutely.

I place the paper down without a flicker of my thoughts on my face and pick the Brady-fied one up. “I prefer this one.”

She grits her teeth and inhales sharply through her nose. “It’s all a load of bullshit.”

“Ah, that’s two.” This time the smile isn’t sweet, and the danger flashing in her eyes has me throwing my hands up in surrender. “I’m just doing as I’m asked. Jenson can be very persuasive.”

She slumps back in her chair a little and folds her arms over her chest. “Fine. I’ll keep my words PG, but just know every time I get slapped upside the head from Mama because of your snitching, I’mma slap you twice as hard.” Her grin is a mixture of beautiful and scary, and I can’t stop looking at her lips.

“Mama Brady hits you when you swear?” She nods and I can’t fight the laughter that barrels out of my chest. “That’s fucking hilarious.”

“And that’s one.” She pulls her phone out of her bag and taps the screen as if making a note.

“I’m not a Brady. I can swear when I want, Penelope. And Mama has never hit me before.”

“Ha! That’s because you’ve never cursed in front of her. You think having a different surname will stop her? I’m not a Brady either, and neither is my dad, but it doesn’t stop us getting smacked. Welcome to the world of Brady. You snitch on me, I’ll snitch right back. Unless, of course, you want to come to some sort of arrangement.”

This is why she irritates me. The back and forth we have between us is too easy. It comes so naturally. And that worries me a little. I keep my guard up around beautiful women for a reason, but right now I don’t care to. I let a smile slide onto my face. “So you’re talking about making a pact with me? You don’t tell Mama when I swear and I do the same for you? Helping each other out?” She inclines her head slightly. “But the last time I tried to help you, you insulted me.”

“That’s true. But I also didn’t ask for help then.” She glares, her hazel eyes blazing and looking almost cat-like.

“Ah, so you like control? You’ll accept help when you ask for it, but when it’s offered, that's a no no. Okay, I’m slowly figuring you out, Penelope.”

Even though she’s embarrassed, the red blaze across her cheeks and chest show me just how right I am. She meets my gaze and it doesn’t flicker at all. She’s ballsy, and I like it. I’d enjoy seeing how far down that blush goes. Watching her relinquish the control she craves and trusting me to give her exactly what she needs is getting me a little excited. I feel like a fucking teenager who’s just seen his first boob. A subtle shake of my head and a quick shift in my chair brings me back to our interview.

“Accepting help is something I struggle with, yes. But I’ve also been brought up around the Bradys. Help has been forced on me more times than I can count. I’m also used to censoring my curses. I’ve become pretty good at it. I think you’ll accumulate more than me. So a treaty would work in your favour.”

This woman is dangerous. Images of us side by side in a business meeting, me making a point and her backing me up, batting off each other's strengths and making it impossible for anyone to get anything past us flit through my mind. I shift a little in my chair, the stirring in my trousers making me a little uncomfortable. I’ve never thought about sharing my work, my office, with anyone before.

“That sounds like a challenge.”

“Take it for what it is. You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours.”

The image of my hands anywhere near her back makes my trouser situation worse.

“Okay. I’ll agree to your deal. I wouldn’t want my pretty face getting messed up by Mama’s backhand.” She rolls her eyes involuntarily and I try to bite back my grin but can’t. “But there’s a condition.”

Her focus zeros in on me, her eyes narrowing in caution. “You’re a tricky one. You don’t give without getting. I’ll remember that for the future.”

I tilt my head in recognition, not wanting to confirm or deny how accurate her observations are, before continuing. “Tell me why you really left the school.”

Her breath whooshes out of her through her parted lips, and for just a second her eyes plead with me. My heart thuds in my chest, something bad happened and she doesn’t want anyone to know. Bile rises in my throat as I swallow down my anger.

“Did someone do something to you?”

She opens her mouth and closes it again, wanting to speak but thinking against it. My fingers curl into fists and I take a deep breath to try and stem my anger.

Finally she clears her throat. “I’ll tell you when I’ve secured this job and after you’ve signed an NDA about it. I don’t want the Bradys to know. I don’t want anyone to know.”

My initial reaction is to make her talk. To walk over to her, stand so close her senses are rocked by my intensity, and steal the breath from her lips with a kiss so scorching she’ll spill her secrets. But, I find myself agreeing to her demands.

“Okay. Getting the NDA sorted by my lawyers might take a few days, though.” I nod back and blow a breath out, unsure if I’m doing the right thing or not, but not wanting to scare her off. She looks like she needs someone, and for some reason, I want that person to be me. I want her trust, and that thought scares the shit out of me.

“Why do you want this position, Miss Richards?” She smiles gratefully before speaking and I focus on a spot just over her shoulder, unable to look at her and concentrate on her words at the same time.

“When I was first told about this job, I couldn’t think of anything worse.” She squirms a little and offers a small smile. “Sorry, but I’m being truthful.” I dip my chin at her so she continues. “I left my teaching career without a back up plan, something that isn’t like me at all, but was necessary. My funds are running low and I refuse to sponge off anyone.”

She lowers her lashes and my estimation of her ratchets up a notch. Her brothers are millionaires. It would be so easy for her to ask them for money, but she isn’t. She wants to earn it herself. I’m impressed.

Her voice cuts into my thoughts, “Plus, I’m bored out of my mind. Working here doesn’t seem like it would be that bad. My dad loves it here. Jenson and Angie are always singing the praises of the team, and it does seem like kismet.” Her eyes meet mine and there’s a flicker of humour in them. “But then again, besides what my dad’s told me, I have no idea what the role really involves. And I don’t want to come across as arrogant by assuming I’d be a good fit.” She sits back in her chair, crosses her legs again, smiles, and I swear my heart skips a beat.

I knew this woman was dangerous, but fuck, she seems deadly right now. I break my gaze away from her and shuffle some papers on my desk, find the job description and hand it over to her.

“Please take your time to read it. We wouldn’t want you making assumptions now, would we?”

She grins at me before lowering her gaze to read. She’s fucking beautiful. She fits here, as well. I can visualise her working with me, with my team, and doing a great job. I’ve already decided she’s hired and I’ll sign that NDA to find out what happened because not only do I need to know, but I think she needs someone to talk to about it. She obviously doesn’t want that to be her family, and I fucking love the idea of it being me. Of being the person she turns to.

Shit. I’m catching a lot of feelings quickly for a woman I’m not meant to like. “Would you like a drink?” Quickly shutting down my thoughts, I stride over to the drinks station on the opposite side of the room, enjoying the feel of her eyes taking me in. I know I look good, I take pride in my appearance. But knowing she thinks it too, even if she doesn’t particularly want to, makes it even sweeter. “Tea, coffee or water. I would offer something stronger, but I know you don’t drink.”

Her head snaps up and she zeros her eyes onto mine. “How do you know that?”

Her voice is controlled, but I note the hitch in it. Vulnerability? Curiosity? I grimace inwardly at letting the slip out. I don’t want her to know just how much I do actually know about her. She already thinks I’m an arrogant twat, I don’t want to add psycho stalker to that list as well.

“Your dad told me.” Sorry Hank, but I’m throwing you under the bus here. “I know about your mum as well.”

Her shoulders stiffen but her emotions are held in check, and my admiration for her goes up another notch.

“What, you mean her love for Jesus juice and men she wasn’t married to aren’t a secret? Dang.” She bites the side of her cheek, downplaying her feelings by throwing out sarcasm. It’s a move I’m familiar with. I do it myself.

Yet a swarm of anger rushes through me. I don’t want her guarding herself with me. I want her to open up and trust me. And that’s bloody ridiculous. I have no claim over this woman. I don’t trust her completely and she barely even likes me, or tolerates me, and here I am wanting her to reveal her innermost secrets and feelings to me. All because she showed me a little vulnerability. I’m a joke.

“I know your dad drinks—expensive bourbon from my personal collection, to be precise.” I give her a small smile, trying to lighten the mood a little and stop my stupid thoughts, but she just nods in reply. “He told me you don’t. And I guess it’s something that’s stuck with me.”

I fiddle with the cufflinks on my wrists and lower my voice slightly. “I’m sorry if I’ve upset you or overstepped. It wasn’t intentional.”

She presses her lips together and breathes through her nose. She blinks rapidly and I desperately hope she clings onto the modicum of restraint she’s shown so far. Unlike with other women, I don’t think I could hold my composure together with Penelope if she started crying. I’d end up with my arms wrapped around her shoulders and her face buried in my chest faster than she could blink the tears away.

“You didn’t upset me. It actually touched me a little that you not only remembered something my dad told you about me, but you didn’t make fun or scoff at it.” She pauses for a breath, and with a voice barely above a whisper, says, “I always got the impression you didn’t like me very much.”

Fighting the urge to close the distance between us, I inhale sharply and turn away from her. She can’t see the look in my eyes. It would give everything away, and I don’t even know what everything is right now.

I know I want to hold her. Wipe the vulnerability away and have that strong, confident woman back here again, even if she is infuriating. I know I want to fuck her and have her completely at my mercy as I bring her to the edge over and over again. But I know I can’t. I don’t even know how long she’d want me for, if she ever did. A one-night stand? A fling? Forever?

She’s always confused me. And confused is an understatement to how I feel right now. She has the ability to make me want things, want to do things that aren’t normally in my wheelhouse. And until I figure out what it is I want, she can’t know any of this. Casual flirting is one thing, but letting her see just how deeply she affects me is another.

“Erm, tea or coffee?”

A quick glance over my shoulder shows me her brows are slightly furrowed in confusion, but instead of questioning my motives she just murmurs, “Coffee please.”

She turns back to the document whilst I busy myself preparing her drink.

Placing the steaming mug onto a coaster on my desk, I step back behind it and motion to the document in her hand. “Well?” Business is better. Business has no place for vulnerability or emotions and feelings. This is where my head should be.

She glances down at the paper, bites her bottom lip, and frowns. Her face shows the war waging in her head. And then her brows straighten, smoothing out the little crease between them, her lip pops out from between her teeth and her eyes snap up to mine. Clearly her mind is made up. Her bottom lip looks plumper and pinker from the ministrations of her teeth and I find myself drawn to it, wanting to taste it, to soothe it as my tongue traces every indent left by my own teeth.

“I can do this job. I may need a few days to get my head around the systems, but looking after your needs can’t be harder than dealing with a bunch of toddlers now, can it?” A quick smirk and a look through her lashes lets me know she's joking. And I fight through the fog in my mind to nod mutely at her. “But I don’t want any special treatment because of my dad or Jenson.”

Shit. I don’t know how I’m going to deal with this. Her being around me every day is bound to have my self control slipping. But maybe this is kismet. Maybe I do just need to see where this goes.

I clear my throat, shift on my seat, and rest my elbows on my desk. “This isn’t how I expected this interview to go,” I start off, and watch as the hope slides off her face and is replaced with disappointment. Fuck. “I expected you to insult me a little more. Possibly threaten a little violence.” I smirk and she fights the twitch at the side of her lips.

“If that’s what you’re into, I can rethink my interactions with you. I’m not about yucking someone's yum, Mr. Elias.” Her eyes light up and the smile that takes over her face is luminous.

A laugh barrels out of me and I shake my head at myself. “If you want to discuss yums, Miss Richards, I’d be happy too. Especially as I have a few theories about your own. But let’s sign the contracts before that.”

She smirks before bringing her bottom lip between her teeth as I suppress a growl. Fuck. I want her bent over my desk and coming on my cock just from that one look. I am in so much trouble.

“So you want me then?”

Her words take me by surprise. I tilt my head and let my eyes rove over her body. They graze her legs, scour up to devour her breasts, and linger on her lip between her teeth.

“Very much so.” My voice is gravelly, filled with lust at the double meaning of our words.

“It’s been a pleasure to interview with you today.” Breathlessly she stands up and reaches out her hand.

I walk out from behind my desk and stand a few inches away from her, clasping her hand firmly and looking straight into her eyes. I lick my lips before speaking and smirk as her eyes track the movement.

“The pleasure has been all mine, Miss Richards. I’ll have the contracts sent today.” Her hand is clasped in mine still, no longer shaking hands but holding them.

“Eager, Mr. Elias?” She smirks, and when I take a step closer, her breath hitches.

“Very. And it’s Ben. I like the way my name sounds on your lips.”

She gasps and her cheeks turn red, but she keeps her eyes locked on mine.

Finally, she dips her head in goodbye, turns slowly, and heads toward the door. Her hand lingers over the handle. “Thank you… Ben.” She throws a look over her shoulder and leaves before I can take another breath.

As the door shuts behind her, I let out a groan, rearrange my trousers to relieve the pressure on my aching dick, and question every fucking thing I just did with a woman I’m about to see every damn day.

I’m royally screwed and I have no one to blame but myself. Well, maybe Hank and Jenson too.