Mr. Grayson? Could it be the Mr. Grayson, owner of Grayson Aircraft? If so, Taylor seriously wanted to have a chat with the guy because Bennett’s plane had been one of theirs.
Robin listened for a moment. “He asked not to be disturbed on his mobile either, but I promise to let him know you’ve called.”
She hung up. “Hi, Taylor. Mr. Wade is expecting you—go right in.” She pointed to an ominous set of dark, solid wood, double doors behind her.
“But I just came to drop off this envelope, and I’m sure Bennett is busy so…”
Robin’s large brown eyes almost popped from her head. Was it because Taylor didn’t want to stay?
Robin cleared her throat. “I’m sure Mr. Wade would be disappointed not to see you.” She stood and opened the doors to Bennett’s office, gesturing for Taylor to enter.
Welp. I guess an in-person apology will do. As for the other matter (whether or not she would work with him), that ought to be a fairly quick conversation.
“Thanks.” Taylor passed Robin, who remained in the doorway.
“Can I get you anything? Tea, coffee, water?”
“No, thank you,” Taylor replied.
“Okay. I’ll be right outside if you change your mind. Mr. Wade’s helicopter should be touching down shortly.”
Taylor nodded and flashed a polite smile. That Robin lady was acting a little strange. Did she think Taylor had forgotten Bennett’s last name?
Once Taylor was alone in the sprawling office she swiveled on her heel to take it all in, admiring the floor-to-ceiling windows displaying a spectacular view of Coit Tower. She’d worked with plenty of CEOs in her past job so the lavish billionaire lifestyle wasn’t such a shock anymore; however, Bennett’s office definitely piqued her curiosity. Much like the private lobby outside his doors, his office looked more like that of a record producer or art dealer—dark hardwood floors, modern furniture, smoke gray walls with lively colored paintings, and a comfy looking sofa and armchair around a triangular glass coffee table. His desk was covered with models of tiny robotics and faced out toward one of the windows. She guessed if she had an office with a view overlooking the San Francisco cityscape, she would turn her desk that way, too.
But seeing this place—a complete contrast to the man’s cold personality—made her wonder what really made Bennett tick. Certainly, it was something he kept hidden.
Oh, God. I hope he’s not into Fifty Shades kind of stuff. She couldn’t go there. Not for any man. Okay, maybe the blindfolds ’n’ stuff, but not the butt plugs. Definitely not the butt plugs. Wait. Why are you even thinking about that? You’re not dating the gu—
“Ms. Reed, so nice to see you again,” said a deep voice.
Taylor turned with a gasp and felt her face instantly flush as if she’d been caught red-handed doing something naughty. Like thinking about butt plugs? Yikes. Shake it off.
“Is something the matter?” he asked. Today, his expression was somewhat neutral—not irate, not icy, and not overly friendly. If she had to guess, she’d say he was feeling cautious.
“Um. No.” She shook her head. “Why would you plug—I mean, say that?”
He stared at her with those irritatingly soul-piercing blue eyes. “You’re blushing. That’s why.”
Taylor was about to speak, but her mind hit a wall. A tall, hot, suited-man wall. He wore a baby blue dress shirt that matched his eyes and a very expensive-looking black suit made from a polished cotton that matched his tie. His pants were tailored to perfection, gently hugging the shape of his muscular thighs, all the way down the tapered legs. The suit was definitely built just for him. Every inch of him. Even the substantial bulge in his—
“Eh-hem,” Bennett cleared his throat and crossed his powerhouse arms over his broad chest, flashing a bit of those shiny black BW cufflinks and his expensive watch.
Taylor’s eyes snapped up to his face. No. You were not just checking out his gear. No. No. Nooo…
Taylor died quietly on the inside. “Here.” She shoved the large manila envelope toward him, but he didn’t bite.
“What’s inside?” His expression instantly soured, his dark brown brows pulling together.
“Take it.” She urged him to accept the envelope, but he simply walked past her to the sitting area.
“Please sit, Ms. Reed.” Bennett gestured toward the sofa and ran his hand down his black tie as he took a seat in the armchair.
Taylor held his gaze for a moment, noticing how the room now felt saturated with tension. It reminded her of those other moments right before he had said something offensive to throw her off balance. Well, I’m not afraid of him. I won’t let him get to me.
She lifted her chin and strolled over to take a seat. To demonstrate her lack of fear, she sat as close as she could to his armchair, maintaining eye contact.
Several awkward moments passed, and then he smiled. Just a half a smile, but it was beautiful.
“So, Ms. Reed,” he leaned back in the chair, “what brings you to my office?”
“I came to deliver that.” She set the envelope on the glass table and clasped her hands in her lap.
“Tell me why you’re really here,” he said in that oh-so-deep and inherently male voice that made the air vibrate all around her. Or was that her body quivering?
“I just told you; to deliver that. There’s a letter inside, apologizing for the way I behaved.” She looked him straight in the eyes, trying to ignore the thick curtains of lashes that somehow made the blue of his eyes more intense. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you when we last saw each other. It was wrong.” She made a point to apologize only for the plane crash incident. When she’d yelled at him for hijacking her, he totally had it coming.
He slowly leaned forward, and Taylor noted how the man seemed to own and command the space around him. He took up way more room than just what his body occupied.
How does he do that? Again she felt her body quiver.
He threaded his hands together, and she wondered what they might feel like gripping her bare hips while he thrust his—
“What if I were to tell you, Ms. Reed, that you didn’t say anything wrong that day? What then?” Bennett dipped his head ever so slightly, giving him a wolfishly hungry look.
He thought she was right? She hadn’t expected him to be the sort of man to admit that. Not ever.
He did text and say sorry. Maybe his head wasn’t so big after all. Are you sure? Because given the size of that bulge in his pants, his head seems pretty damned big and sexy and I bet it would feel really good sliding—
Stop. What is wrong with you?
She straightened her spine. “I guess I’d say it’s irrelevant. We’d just survived a plane crash. The only thing that mattered was making sure everyone got to the hospital. It wasn’t the time or the place to share my opinions about how I believe people should treat each other.”
He kept his hypnotic gaze pinned to her face. “Apology accepted. Now I’ll ask again; why are you really here?”
“I thought we just covered that.”
“You could’ve mailed the envelope,” he said. “So what do you want?”
“Would you stop?”
He tilted his head a notch. “Stop what?”
“Stop trying to bulldoze this conversation,” she said. “I get it, okay? You’re a hard-ass. You’re a big, powerful man.” But if they were going to get down to business, he needed to back off with the whole intimidation vibe. ’Cause he’s really good at it, and it’s making me hot.
What? No. No, it’s not.
He chuckled, and his dimples deepened into delicious little semicircles.
“Hard-ass? I thought I was an immoral, heartless ‘pig in a suit’ whose only goal in life is to make money and demean the masses in an effort to elevate my sense of self-worth.”
“W-we-well, I know I said something like that but—”
“Which is priceless coming from someone like you,” he said, cutting her off.
“Someo
ne like me?”
“You’ve put yourself on a pedestal so high that no one could ever hope to live up to your soaring standards of perfection.”
“That’s not true. I’m intimately acquainted with my faults and trust me, they’re there.” Not that she had many, if she were to be honest with herself. Her body was a bit too thick around the hips, she wasn’t the best salesperson in the world, and she obviously wasn’t impervious to Bennett’s insane masculinity. But aside from that, she wanted to help people. She wanted to change things.
“You’re a hypocrite,” he said bluntly.
No. I am open-minded and self-aware. “Then why in the world do you want to hire me?”
He looked down at his palms for a moment before meeting her gaze. “Because you and I are the same—we see the world in terms of ideals. Black and white. Right and wrong. Success and failures. Never any grays.”
“So you’re saying we’re both hyper-judgmental and rigid.”
He held up his index finger. “We’re good at sizing up people and situations. Of course, what we do with our insights is where we differ.”
Now this she had to hear. “Oh please, do go on.” She crossed her arms.
“I don’t believe in settling for less. But you—”
“I don’t settle,” she protested. “I just didn’t know what I wanted—there’s a difference. But now I do know.”
“Do you?” His gaze slowly moved to her lips and stayed there for a long moment before returning to her eyes.
“Ye-ye-yesss?” She cleared her throat. Oh God, did you just answer him like a weak little girl? If her brothers had been in the room, they would’ve been shaking their heads in disgust or chucking basketballs at her head. “Yes,” she said firmly.
“I’m not so sure I believe you. You seem like the sort of woman who’s still searching. Or, perhaps the type who has needs she’s not willing to admit to herself.”
Presumptuous jerk. Like he knew anything about how she felt or what she needed.
“But all right,” he went on. “Let’s say for argument’s sake you’re right. It doesn’t change the answer to your question.”
She’d completely forgotten the question. They’d gone down an entirely different path, and now her insides felt all flustered.
“Then what’s the answer?” Maybe I’ll remember the question by the time you say it.
“I want to hire you because the world is changing quickly and I have to evolve with it. I need someone who can teach me to speak your language—a strong, opinionated woman’s language. And because you have no apprehension about sharing your views regardless of the consequences or the feelings of others—your shrewd candor rivals my own.”
Hmph! It did not. She wasn’t mean and hurtful! “I think your tight pants are getting to your big thick head.” Taylor, for absolutely no apparent reason, found her gaze sinking south to the man’s substantial bulge again.
Tay!
“My…head?” Bennett frowned, his eyes darting down to his groin.
“Oh! I didn’t mean it like that. I meant…” I am now shriveling into a tiny ball of mortification. Hey, a window! I wonder if I can get it open so I can jump.
“Yes?” He waited, a grin slanting across his lips.
Taylor took a moment to compose herself and then rebounded with a confident gaze. “Look, Bennett, I want to work with you, but I’m just not sure you’ll take the training seriously.”
“If you’re going to work for me, you really should call me Mr. Wade. And yes, why the hell would I be sitting here if I didn’t plan on taking it seriously?”
Okay, he had a point. “With. Work with you; I’m a free agent. And let me remind you that you were demoted from deity to regular guy, so I’ll stick with Bennett.”
He laughed, shaking his head from side to side. “All right. Suit yourself.”
“Suited and ready for duty.” She made a little salute with her index finger. “When would you like to start?”
“Tonight. Over dinner.”
Taylor heard the unpleasant sound of a needle scratching its way across the vinyl. “Whoa there. You and I are not—”
He stood. “Don’t flatter yourself, Ms. Reed, I’m interested in your training program only. My schedule simply happens to be extremely tight over the next two weeks—a special project of mine—and that means my office hours are from twelve to twelve. Now so are yours.”
“Noon to midnight?” It was a little unorthodox, but okay. For fifty thousand, she had to be flexible.
“No. Midnight to midnight. And since I’ll be traveling extensively, you’ll be coming along. Where I go, you go.” He turned away and headed for the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a meeting to attend.”
She raised her index finger and stood. “But—”
“See you tonight at eight. Robin will give you the details.”
Taylor knew she’d just lost this round of mind-fuck-chess with the billionaire, and frankly, she needed to retreat. Because, dammit—point for Bennett—he’d managed to fluster her in a big way. A big, huge, unprofessional, sad, needy woman sort of way that not only undermined her sense of pride but her feminine power, too. That man is trouble.
He stopped and dipped his head. “And Ms. Reed?”
“Ye-ye,” she cleared the tickle from her throat. “Yes?”
“You’re keeping that phone.” He glanced at the manila envelope on the table.
Obviously, he’d figured out there was more than a letter inside.
“May I ask why?”
He shot her a stern look that made her stomach duck, cover, and roll. “Are you saying no?”
“No.” She shook her head slowly from side to side. She’d hit a nerve. “I’m merely asking why.”
“I think you already know the answer.”
She did? Because the only explanation she could come up with was that he secretly enjoyed stalking her just as much as she enjoying him doing it. Our dirty little secret.
But that couldn’t be right. Bennett’s motives had to be something else. Simply put, he wasn’t the sort of man to play around. He wanted something, he went after it. That included women. Oh, yes. After the plane crash, she’d started reading all the gossip columns—I’m a stalker. I need help—and Bennett collected women like he collected expensive cars. Movie stars, heiresses, models—he dated them all. Of course, he was never seen with any woman more than once. Womanizing cretin. In any case, she wasn’t his type, and he wasn’t hers.
I just get a little flustered around him. After all, the man is…he’s…he’s got a thing going. And by “thing” she meant a severe male hotness he knew how to own, work, rent out, club you over the head with, whatever.
Taylor watched Bennett’s imposing, masculine frame walk out his office door, toward the men waiting in his private lobby. They shook hands, then slipped into a fishbowl conference room near the elevator bank. His confident stride indicated he definitely knew she was watching him every step of the way, and he definitely knew he’d gotten to her.
Gah! She plopped down on his sofa and covered her face, letting out a perturbed little groan. She felt like she’d been shaken, not stirred, and then poured into a martini glass where she’d been simultaneously sipped on while having her olives chewed.
And she goddamned liked it.
She couldn’t remember the last time a man had made her feel all wobbly and scatterbrained like that. They were always too sweet, too into themselves, too sedate, or too…simply not her match. But this man was like biting into a goddamned jalapeño. The first few seconds were a piece of cake; but the more you chewed, the hotter it got.
She rubbed the goose bumps on her arm, thinking. The intrigue and challenge of seeing if she could reshape Bennett Wade into someone more human had grabbed hold and pulled her right in. However—and this was the absurd part—she understood the futility. In all likelihood, Bennett Wade was too arrogant to ever change.
Perhaps changing him shouldn’t be the goal.
She’d had a few glimpses of something inside him—how reassuring he had been before and after the crash, not to mention his relationship with his mother—that led her to believe he cared about other people, even if just a little. Think. If you could get him to open that part up, he’s the sort of man who could really do some good. Over a hundred thousand people worked for the guy, and he had influence far beyond that.
The question is, can I handle him? More precisely put, could she handle the next two weeks with him?
She vigorously shook her head from side to side, trying to chuck all the nonsense from her brain. Of course I can. Besides, she really needed this to work. He was the key to her company’s survival. But had he meant anything he’d said about truly wanting her help, or was he after something else?
Don’t be ridiculous. Bennett’s not interested in you. Once again, she reminded herself of the types of women he’d had, could have, and wanted. They were tens. She was…well, normal. Brown hair, brown eyes, average height and body.
But on the other hand, making her keep the phone definitely meant…well, something. Right?
Come on. Maybe the man really wants to change. Maybe he genuinely respects me. And maybe he wants me to have the phone because he’s demanding and wants to be able to contact me whenever he likes.
Taylor sighed at the phone and letter still on the table and then placed them in her purse.
“Ms. Reed?” Robin stood in the doorway. “Here is your check for fifty thousand dollars, the invitation for the ball, and the limo confirmation.”
Taylor lifted a brow. “Sorry?”
“Oh, is there a mistake? Mr. Wade said your fee was fifty thousand. If that’s incorrect I’ll just call him and—”
“Uh. No. The amount is fine. Thank you.” He knew I’d cave! That check was waiting, just like he was waiting for me to come today. Ugh. The man was good. A damned gifted genius at reading people. “Wait. Did you say ball?”
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