I leave the massage room, take a wrong turn, and end up in an unfamiliar corridor.
“Excuse me,” I ask a cleaning lady who passes by. “Where is reception? I got lost.”
The woman, petite and in her forties, opens her mouth, but instead of answering, coughs. Furrowing my brow, I study her appearance. Her nose and eyes are puffy—signs of a cold or an allergy. Either way, she’s sick. She gives me directions in a low voice.
“Thank you. Are you okay? You’re very sick. You should take the day off.”
She shakes her head, her eyes widening. “Can’t afford it. I have two little kids back home. I’m much better now, though. I thought I’d collapse a few hours ago when I was waitressing. At least here it’s quiet.”
Gulping, I say, “Take care of yourself. What’s your name?”
“Nora.”
“Have a good day, Nora.” My voice is shaky, and the hair at the back of my neck stands on end as I make my way to the reception. Nora’s determination to give her kids the best and moonlight between jobs hits home too hard.
“Was everything all right?” the receptionist asks.
“Yes, but I want to ask you for a favor. You have a cleaning lady, Nora, who’s sick. Tell her to go home, and that you’ll pay her anyway.”
“Miss, the bosses won’t—”
“I’m paying for it. Here.” I put more bills on the counter than her wage must be, but I don’t care. In fact, I add more bills, struck by an idea. “Also, I want to buy her a gift card for a treatment of her choice here at the spa. Please tell her it’s on the house, though.”
“Why are you doing this, miss?”
I smile, remembering what my mother used to tell me. “Sometimes an act of kindness is enough to keep one going.”
***
“Let’s wrap this up. Good work, everyone,” I say three days later, smiling broadly. There is a sense of accomplishment as the marketing department and I leave the meeting room. I head to my office, glancing inside Sebastian’s as I pass. My stomach constricts slightly. He’s inside. I’ve kept my distance for the past few days, but knowing he works on the other side of the wall makes concentrating a chore. I’ve had the same dream the past two nights. I’m in the massage room again, only Andrew isn’t there. Instead, a man with dark eyes and full lips curled into a smile welcomes me, wearing nothing but a towel.
Around lunchtime, someone knocks at my door. I look up from my computer screen to find Sebastian standing in the doorway.
“Lunch?” he asks.
“I have a lot to do.” It’s not exactly a lie. “I’ll grab something quick later.”
“I see.” He walks inside my office, pushes aside some folders I’d spread out, and sits on the desk. “How is the team treating you? I thought it’d be best if I didn’t join you in all meetings, so you had a chance to work with them without the boss breathing down their necks.”
“I appreciate it. They are very cooperative with me. I think they’ll warm up to the marketing manager too, eventually.”
“I’ll keep an eye on that. Martha has excellent credentials. It’d be a pity if things between her and the team didn’t work out.”
“I agree. She’s very competent.”
Sebastian taps his fingers on the desk, a crease forming on his forehead.
“I went to the spa,” I find myself blurting out. His crease instantly disappears, a smile inching its way across his features.
“Did you enjoy it?” he asks softly. His gaze is anything but soft. He looks at me like a man determined to read my most hidden thoughts, discover my deepest desires.
“Oh yes. You were very generous. Thank you. You were right. I needed a few hours of relaxation badly.”
“What did you do?”
“Many things, but the massage was the best part. The guy, Andrew, had the most amazing hands.”
Sebastian’s eyes narrow. “I know how to give a good massage. I know which points to press to relieve. . .tension.” The last word rolls off his tongue with so much sensuality that I nearly lose control and kiss him on the spot.
I find it within me to roll my chair a little further from him, and decide to confront him. “Are you flirting with me?”
“Yes, I am.”
I back away from the intensity of his gaze. I was expecting him to at least skirt around the subject. But something tells me Sebastian isn’t that kind of man. He’s the kind that gets what he wants, no matter how.
“Sebastian,” I say weakly. “Don’t. I have a no-fraternizing clause in my contract. I’d get fired in a blink for getting involved with you.”
He pauses for a few seconds. “I didn’t know that.”
“Now you do.”
“What if you didn’t have that clause?” He shifts closer to me. I remain silent, and he tilts my chin up to him. “Answer,” he demands. What would it be like to be wanted by a man like him? To be loved by a man who holds so much intensity in his gaze alone?
“I never got involved with clients, not even when I had no such clause,” I stammer. “It’s a matter of principle. Work is work.”
“I never get involved with people I work with either.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. “You’re a smart man. I’m a smart woman. Let’s not do something stupid together.”
“Stupid never sounded more appealing. I want to get to know you, Ava,” he murmurs. I open my mouth, but he holds up his hand. “Hear me out. You’re fun, sweet, and refreshing.”
My breath catches. Licking my lips, I smile. “Is this because I’m not acting all impressed that you’re the CEO and everything?”
“Maybe.” His eyes light up. “I’m looking forward to impressing you.”
“You are very direct.”
Leaning lower, he whispers, “And determined.”
Words fail me. His lips are so close, and I love every word coming out of them.
“Lunch, anyone?” Logan’s voice resounds from the doorway. I jump so violently in my seat I almost knock over the glass of water in front of me. Sebastian catches it, looking as nonchalant as ever.
“Logan. Impeccable timing, as usual.” Sebastian doesn’t take his eyes off me. “Yes, let’s you and I go have some lunch. Ava here doesn’t have time for us.”
I gulp as the two men leave. Four months. I’ll never survive them.
Chapter Eight
Ava
“Ava, wait for me,” Sebastian calls from behind me the following Monday. I push the button to keep the elevator doors open and give Sebastian a small smile as he enters. Instinctively, I take a step back before his scent can overwhelm me. This man sneaks pheromones in his cologne, I swear. I gulp, looking straight at the doors.
When we reach our floor and the doors open, Sebastian holds out his arm, “Ladies first.”
Several mishaps occur as I step out of the elevator. First, my heel gets caught in the tiny space between the elevator floor and the actual floor. I lose my balance and fall on all fours. The cherry on the top? My skirt flies up to my waist. I desperately reposition my skirt, then turn to look at Sebastian. I’ve given him a full view of my granny-period panties. I know this because his eyes widen—and not in a good way, but in a what-decade-are-you-lost-in way. I groan, and this seems to snap him back to his gentlemanly ways, because he steps out of the elevator and helps me up.
“So, is this a trick to get you in my arms?” he murmurs, his hands on my arms. I shake him off, mouthing a quick
thank you
and scurrying to my office. Behind the safety of the closed door, I slump in my seat and swear. The day Sebastian Bennett sees my ass, I’m wearing granny panties.
Just my luck.
Now I feel obligated to show him that particular asset in a more appealing light too.
Jesus, Ava. Where did that thought come from? He definitely doesn’t need to see your ass again
. Maybe the sight has put him off me. As depressing as that thought is, it’s for the best.
I distract myself from the mishap with e-mails and phone calls, and it works. Until after lunch, that is, when I can’t postpone a trip to Sebastian’s office any longer. I need to discuss some things with him before bringing my ideas to the table for the next campaign.
***
Determined to ignore the morning incident, I walk into his office and sit on the chair in front of his desk. The problem is, the second our gazes meet, I notice the twinkle in his eyes, accompanied by a bona fide smirk. I can practically see my god-awful panties reflected in his pupils. Opening my mouth, I intend to say,
Thank you for taking your time to discuss this
. Other words come out instead. “I don’t usually wear granny panties.”
Sebastian bursts out laughing, plunking his forearms on the wood desk. “What do you wear?”
“Normal stuff. Modern stuff.”
How did I get myself in this conversation? My mouth is definitely not connected to my brain today. Or maybe my brain stopped working altogether, letting hormones take over.
I pull myself straighter and try again. This time, the right words come out. “I want to talk to you about the campaign.”
To his credit, Sebastian stops laughing, though the twinkle still dances in his eyes. Damn him. We spend about an hour discussing my agenda.
“We can wrap up this conversation. I’ll draft up the next steps and meet with the team.”
He gives me a nod. “You’re very efficient. I like it.”
I smile, wanting to get out quickly now that the meeting is over. I’m sure my brain will come up with a few more ways to embarrass me if I stay here too long.
“Ava,” Sebastian calls when I’m at the door.
“Yes?”
“If you think I can’t imagine exactly what is underneath your granny panties, you’re wrong. I still want to know what kind of
modern stuff
you usually wear. And I will find out.”
Chapter Nine
Sebastian
My words have precisely the effect I want on her. A delicious blush spreads on her neck, visible even from here. I smile long after she leaves, remembering her outburst when she entered the office. I discover something new about her every day. During our first lunch, I had a sneak peek of the vulnerable layers hiding behind her laughter. Today, I learned she also could be a complete goofball, which is adorable and hilarious, since she works so hard to keep up her image of consummate businesswoman. I like that she doesn’t have a stick up her ass. I cannot help but relax in her presence. She’s playful, without playing mind games. Most of all, I am the one pursuing her. I’m so tired of women pursuing me, their eyes on my wallet and social position.
My phone rings. Dad is calling. I pick up immediately. “Hi, Dad.”
“Hello, son. Am I interrupting you?”
“Not at all. I have time for a little chat.”
“Well, it won’t be long. Your mother wants to know if you’re bringing anyone to our anniversary.”
I grimace. “You’re kidding, right? How did Mom and Pippa get you into this matchmaking thing?”
“You know what they say, happy wife, happy life.”
Smiling, I refrain from commenting. My father never does anything he doesn’t want to. He can’t be coerced or convinced. If he does something, it’s because he thinks it’s the right thing to do. I’ve learned many things from my father. He instilled in us from a very young age the importance of family and hard work. No matter how tired he was from work, he never complained, and he always made time to listen to us. Above all, he always took care of Mom and spoiled her. However, he never got into her matchmaking games before.
“I’m coming alone. I was expecting Mom to keep nagging. Since when did you go over to the dark side?”
“Since I think it’s high time my son got married.”
Right. Time to make up an excuse. “My assistant sent me an important report. I’ll call you later, okay?”
I smile, and I swear I can hear Dad’s smile on the other end. “I’m sure you will.”
When I hang up, my smile widens. Maybe because Ava is so complex, or maybe because her presence is so refreshing—it’s addictive, but I want to know more about her.
I should be more careful; I’ve been burned enough times. Women have a way of hiding their true intentions very well. Ava isn’t like that, though. She can’t be.
I want to know what she fears, what makes her cry, and what makes her laugh. After today’s incident, I want to know what kind of lingerie she wears, only to remove it, and find out what makes her come apart in bed.
***
Logan and I attend the meeting with the marketing department in the afternoon, and Ava presents her proposals. Everyone is impressed, including Logan, who usually plays devil’s advocate.
“I have to admit,” Logan tells her afterward when it’s just the three of us left in the meeting room, “I was skeptical when we brought you in.”
The three of us sit at the long table, Logan and me on one side, Ava on the opposite.
Ava narrows her eyes. “And why is that?”
“Consultants usually rip you off. I imagined marketing consultants to be even worse.”
“Wow. You do know how to compliment people, don’t you?” She says that with a smile and a headshake.
“There goes your
nice brother
facade
,”
I tell him. “You can never keep it up for long. Told you to find another angle.”
“It does work in negotiations,” Logan counters.
“That’s true.”
Ava has her hair down today, and sweeps it on one side, baring her neck. It takes all my self-control not to imagine kissing her there. Or anywhere else.
“Tell me more about that,” she says, looking at me. She has a curiosity about everything that reminds me of the way I was years ago, when I first started out. “Let me guess, Logan is the good cop, and you’re the bad one?”
I nod, still eyeing her neck.
“Plays well, right?” Logan says. “He always keeps out of the limelight, so people already assume he’s an ogre. Don’t tell anyone he isn’t, or we’ll have to find another negotiation strategy.”