“Or I can just ask you out and we can do it without him.” He winks.
“Hey, I’m not objecting.” I laugh.
“I’m objecting,” Dev says loudly. “Every man sitting around this table can either keep their hands to themselves or lose a limb.”
My gaze instantly finds Bennett’s. He’s sipping his drink nonchalantly, smiling like the cat that ate the canary. I’m grateful for the dim lights, because I know my face is flaming red right now. I look away.
“Aw, come on, Dev. You gonna tell me someone who looks like she does doesn’t date?”
“Maine, I love you like a brother, but don’t go there,” Dev says, his tone final. “Besides, you couldn’t fucking handle her even if you tried.”
Jermaine laughs. I sigh, draining the rest of my drink before leaning over to whisper in my brother’s ear. “I’m going to go to the bathroom.”
“Want me to—”
“I need a break from your overprotectiveness.” I shoot him a look.
He chuckles. “You’re going downstairs?”
“For a little while, but I do need to use the restroom. I’ll be back in a little while.” I ruffle his hair and walk toward the stairs.
Downstairs, I feel free. They have a DJ playing music, and a full bar. I walk over to the edge and lean against it, waiting to catch the bartender’s attention. When I get it, I order an Old Fashioned.
“Make that two.”
My gaze snaps up at the sound of the voice beside me. “What are you doing down here?”
“Getting a drink,” he says. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Following me.”
He chuckles. “You’re a little sure of yourself.”
“Am I?” I turn to face him fully and this time I force myself to keep my eyes on that intense amber gaze of his. “We have a personal waitress upstairs.”
“Yet here we are.”
“Look, I get it. This is weird and awkward and you think I’m going to slip up and say something to Devon, but you’re wrong. We had a one-night stand. I’m sure you haven’t given me a second thought since it happened. I mean, you were married, divorced, you’re obviously with someone now, and that’s great, I’m glad for you. My point is, you don’t have to worry about me saying anything at all.” Our drinks come. He pays for both. I cut him a look. “You didn’t have to do that.”
He shrugs a shoulder. “I wanted to.”
“Well, thank you.” I take my drink and move away from the bar, closer to the corner. When I look up, I can sort of see the area where we were sitting upstairs. I see the couches, their feet, but not much else. Bennett sidles up beside me. I frown. “Is Stacy in the bathroom or something?”
“No.”
“So why are you here?” My eyes widen. “Shouldn’t you be upstairs? I already told you I’m not going to mention anything.”
“I know.” He sips his Old Fashioned. Watches me. Sips again. “I wasn’t really worried you would tell him.”
“So why are you here?” It’s the millionth time I’ve asked and I’m at the point where I’m exasperating myself, but he’s totally killing my vibe and the reason I came downstairs in the first place.
“Why are you here?”
I blink. “Because, as you can see, I have a helluva overprotective brother and I’d rather take my chances down here.”
“You’re trying to see if you meet someone?”
“Yes and no.”
“Okay. Now I’m intrigued.”
“I like talking to people, especially single people looking for people to make a connection with.”
“Playing Cupid.” He hides his smile behind his glass as he takes a sip of his drink.
“Not exactly. I mean, I’m not pairing people together at the club, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
He chuckles. “Because that would be ridiculous. People come here to have fun, get drunk, dance, and maybe leave with someone they connect with on an animalistic level. You want to turn that experience into some sappy romance novel.”
“First of all, that is not a fair assessment on why people go dancing. Secondly, finding love isn’t sappy and neither are the majority of romance novels. You should do your research before you make those kinds of statements.”
“Sure. I’ll wait for a list of romance novels I should read, or will you lend me your paperbacks so I can see everything you highlighted?”
“I don’t remember you being this obnoxious the first time we met.”
“But you do remember screaming my name until the crack of dawn.” His slow spreading smile is trouble. As a matter of fact, everything about this man says trouble with a capital T. I’d never really understood that statement until this moment.
“You should probably run along. Wouldn’t want Jermaine to put the moves on your girl.” I lift my Old Fashioned. “Thanks for the drink.”
“He can have her.” He gets closer still, until our arms are touching and our backs are against the wall underneath the staircase we should both walk up right now. “I get bored easily.”
“Is that why you got a divorce?”
“No.” He pulls away.
“Hm.” I take another sip. “Do you have kids?”
“No.”
“Hm.” Another sip.
“Do you want kids?”
“Are you asking me if I want to practice making them with you?” He raises an eyebrow.
“Are you asking to get your balls chopped off by your best friend?”
Bennett chuckles, tossing his head back and resting it against the wall behind us. As his laughter fades, he says, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
His admission makes my heart skip a beat. I ignore it. On top of Bennett being my brother’s best friend, we’re going to be working in the same building, so this feeling bubbling inside me needs to be shaken away as soon as possible.
“You’ve seen me twice since our one-night stand a year ago.” I look at him. “Otherwise, I’m sure you wouldn’t be thinking about me at all.”
“I’m sorry I left.”
“We agreed it was a one-time thing.”
“Did you forget about me after that day?” He straightens a bit and takes another sip. His eyes are so close, his mouth is so close, his chest, his arms. I could lie to him but decide not to.
“I think about you all the time actually.” I sip my drink, not taking my eyes off his. “I get off to you almost every night. Even named my vibrator Ben.”
“Fuck.” He bites his full bottom lip and groans as he comes closer still, his breath fanning my face as he closes the distance between us. “I want to kiss you so fucking bad right now.”
“But you won’t?”
He shakes his head, and our noses kiss for us, Eskimo style. “Dev’s my best friend. He wouldn’t approve.”
“I agree.” I lean in closer. His lips are a breath away from mine. My heart is pounding against my chest, against his. “It would be a really bad idea.”
“Terrible.”
“Once you start work on Monday, this can never happen again,” he whispers. “Ever.”
“No more sneaking kisses?”
“No more anything.”
“Why?”
“Because I promised my father I’d stay away from you.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
Our lips touch. His mouth is soft, so soft, the kiss light and warm. When he sneaks his tongue into my mouth, we both groan, a vibration against my chest that rumbles through me until it hits my knees. I bring a hand up and grip his strong biceps, holding my drink with my other. He brings a hand down and grips my waist tightly, to the point of pain. He drags it down and back to my ass, squeezing, pulling me to his body until one of his legs is wedged between mine. The short dress I’m wearing rides up slightly, and suddenly I can feel the friction of his jeans against my panties. He moves with the beat of the music and even if I hadn’t already fucked him I would know just by this display how go
od he’d be in bed. The thought comes with a wave of heat as we continue to kiss. We both come up for air at the same time, my eyes hazy, needy, as I look at him. The look in his matches mine.
“You should go,” I say finally, remembering he brought a date here. The thought fills me with horror. Is it a girlfriend? It can’t be if he’s been here with me most of the time. “Someone is waiting for you upstairs.”
“Does that bother you?” he asks. “That I’m here with another woman?”
“No.” I scowl. “Is she your girlfriend?”
He shakes his head.
“But you’re going home with her.” I lick my lips. “She’ll be the one screaming your name tonight.”
He brings his hand to cup my neck and pulls me in for another kiss—hard, fast, unyielding. “I wish it could be you.”
With that, he leaves.
Chapter Six
I should have never agreed to come to a barbecue at Bennett’s parents’ house. Thank God my brother is here. Otherwise, I would have had to come up with an excuse to leave. His parents are lovely and welcoming and make a mean steak, but Bennett’s presence is making me edgy. It’s the way he looks at me, that hooded amber gaze filled with dirty promises that takes me back to that first night and the other night, when he kissed me underneath a stairwell. My heart pounds a little faster, a little harder, at the thought of his lips on mine, his tongue sliding inside my mouth. I blink away from his lips and smile at his mother as she tells us about the Alaskan cruise she and her husband went on over the summer.
“The ice was all melted,” Mr. Cruz says.
“It was definitely not what we were expecting,” Ms. Cruz adds. “But it was still a good time.”
“You were both drunk the entire time,” Bennett says with a laugh. “Every time you called to check in, you were slurring your words.”
“The alcohol was good,” Mr. Cruz says, shrugging.
“And the ice was melted,” Ms. Cruz adds, offering an explanation. “We couldn’t even go sledding with the dogs.”
“How’s your mother doing?” Mr. Cruz asks, looking at Dev.
I feel myself stiffen but manage to keep a smile on my face. I’m not sure how much my brother has told these people about our parents or family life. A big part of me wishes he hadn’t told them anything at all. It’s embarrassing enough to have lived it, and letting outsiders in feels painful even if they do mean well.
“She’s doing great,” Dev says, smiling that carefree smile of his.
He looks over at me and we hold that familiar stare, doing that thing that only siblings and best friends can do with their eyes, and I know he hasn’t told them much about anything. I relax. Having a drug addict for a mother is hard enough without the outside scrutiny. It’s something I don’t speak to anyone about, partly because I’m ashamed of it, but also because my friends wouldn’t understand. They were born with silver spoons in their mouths and even though they’ve faced their own hardships, none of them have come in the form of a mother who’d rather shoot up than take her daughter to ballet.
“So,” Mr. Cruz says, “Morgan, I hope you don’t mind me doing this, but Paul is a good friend of mine and I happened to run into him the other day so I asked him about you. He said you developed the Global Trust website and came up with the concept.”
I feel myself blush. “I did.”
Devon puts a hand on my knee. “Morgie doesn’t like to talk about her hard-earned achievements. She has also revamped a ton of NFL teams’ websites.”
“That’s not on your resume,” Bennett says, frowning.
“It was pro-bono work I did last year, to gain experience.” I shrug. “I had to make room for other things in my resume.”
“She’s also working on a ton of great ventures,” Dev adds, smiling proudly. “One of these days she’s going to come up with a concept that’s going to blow our minds.”
“What is your goal?” Ms. Cruz asks, walking back over with a case holding a bottle of wine and glasses. She sets it all down and pours some for us.
“I want to change the scope of online dating.” I smile at her as she hands me a glass and take a sip. “I feel like there’s so much potential there.”
“What would you do differently than what’s already out there?”
“A few things. For starters, I don’t like that we seem to be overlooking the importance of intimacy and obsessing over looks and hooking up.” I set my wineglass down and go for my iced tea.
“How would you do it, then?” Devon asks. “No pictures?”
“Well, I mean, I have a few concepts. A few are no pictures in the beginning, so you’d have to communicate with someone for three weeks before you get a picture.”
“How can you be sure they’re not exchanging pictures on the side?” Bennett asks. The curiosity in his voice makes a little thrill run through me.
“Well, I can’t.” I shrug. “But I guess if they do, that’s their problem. I’m just trying to help them find a more meaningful connection.”
“Tell them about the workplace app,” Dev says. I shoot him a look, feeling myself flush again. He chuckles. “Morg, this is what they do for a living. They’re not going to judge you.”
“He’s right,” Mr. Cruz adds. “Besides, you’ve been the most interesting houseguest we’ve had in over a year.” He gives Bennett a meaningful look.
“Okay.” I take a deep breath as I gather my thoughts. “Eighty percent of the single people I’ve interviewed say they haven’t found love in person or on a dating app because they have no time, and when they finally make time, the people they match with aren’t interested in the same things they are.” I pause, making sure I haven’t lost any of them. Their interested expressions keep me talking. “So the idea is to create this app where the singles in each company have a chance to get to know each other based on interests, no pictures, no names, no departments. In workplaces that do not have a fraternization policy, obviously.”
“So basically what Facebook was for college students before everyone’s mom started joining,” Bennett says, grinning at his mom’s reprimanding frown.
“More or less.”
“I like that,” Mr. Cruz says, nodding slowly, as if he’s giving it some thought. “Have you created this app already?”
“Yeah, I mean, it’s not final, but it’s in development.”
“It’s a pretty simple concept,” Bennett says, pursing his lips. I try so hard not to stare at them and fail, but staring into his eyes is so much worse, so I end up looking away.
“Why don’t you report to Bennett’s office first thing tomorrow morning, Morgan?” Mr. Cruz says. “I’ll speak to him about a few things once you leave here tonight. I’m sure he would love to hear about more of your concepts.”
I nod slowly, in disbelief. People like Bennett and his father have the power to make or break my career. They have the power to turn my abstract concepts into globally established companies.
Chapter Seven
I really do plan on reporting to Bennett’s office as soon as I can, but first I stop by the break room to brew myself the cup of coffee I couldn’t have this morning because I was busy taking my brother to the airport. The door opens as I’m standing by the counter, waiting for it to finish brewing, and a tall guy wearing a Mets baseball cap and plain black T-shirt walks in. He pauses when he sees me.
“You’re the new girl.”
“That would be me.” I let out a laugh as I extend my hand for him to shake. “Morgan.”
“Wesley.” He nods back toward the door. “I’m in development.”
“Oh, nice. I’m . . . actually, I’m not sure where they’re putting me. I’m meeting with Bennett this morning about that. It’s either social media or marketing though, so I guess we’ll be working in close proximity.”
“You’re entirely overdressed for our department.” He eyes me up and down. “Not that you don’t look great, but we’re more ripped jeans and Converse kind of people.”
&n
bsp; “And Mets caps.” I look at the hat on his head.
“And Mets caps.” He smiles.
“Want some coffee?” I pour myself a mug.
“No coffee for me. I’m a tea kinda guy.”
“Mets and tea. Got it.”
“You’re not a Yankees girl, are you? Is that why you’re drilling me about my hat?”
I laugh. “No, I grew up in Vegas. No baseball for me.”
“Only prostitutes and gambling.” His easy laugh makes me laugh.
“You got me completely figured out.” I wink.
The door opens and shuts. We both look up to see Bennett walking in. Our eyes lock instantly, and I swear my heart goes into a frenzy. He looks great in jeans and a T-shirt, but Bennett in a sharp blue suit is on another level of hot.
“Wesley,” Bennett says as way of greeting, taking his gaze from mine for a second before he looks at me again. “I see you’ve met Morgan.”
“We were just getting to know each other.” Wesley meets my eyes. I can’t help but smile. He has kind eyes that make me feel comfortable, unlike Bennett’s dark, explosive gaze.
“We have a meeting in four minutes, Miss Tucker,” Bennett says.
Wesley’s eyebrows shoot up at his tone. “Guess I’ll see you later? I take my lunch break at twelve-fifteen. I’m going to the bar down the block for a burger, if you want to join me.”
“Sure. I’ll –”
“Excuse me, please,” Bennett cuts in, walking toward me. “Some of us actually need to get work done today.”
I move away from the pot and wave at Wesley, laughing at the way he rolls his eyes behind Bennett’s back. When the door closes again, I let out a breath and look at Bennett.
“You’re not very nice to your employees.”
“They’re my employees. I don’t have to be nice, I just have to be fair. I’m not here to make friends.”
“Hm.” I watch as he pours his coffee. “Good to know.”
“What’s good to know?” His eyes flick to mine.
“That we’re not going to be friends.” I walk out of the break room, heading to the reception area of Bennett’s office. He follows shortly after, walking straight to his door and holding it open for me.
The Trouble With Love: New York Times Bestselling Author Page 3