We Shouldn't

by Vi Keeland

  One-hundred-percent normal. Meant nothing at all. So why not indulge? One night of fantasy couldn’t hurt. Let’s face it, it wouldn’t be the first time I’d fantasized about a colleague. No one would know. No harm, no foul. But one night had turned into two, and two had turned into three, and then yesterday when I walked into the break room and found Annalise bending over to grab something out of the refrigerator, I’d actually started to get hard. At work. In the middle of the fucking day. To visions of the shapely ass of a woman I needed to obliterate, not fantasize about until I ruined a two-thousand-dollar suit with an embarrassing teenage-boy moment.

  So I’d retreated over the last forty-eight hours—giving her the cold shoulder yesterday and again this morning. I’d made a mental decision not to allow myself to think about her, except for ways to come out the victor on every pitch. Unfortunately, my eyes didn’t get the message. And that just pissed me off. Each time I caught my gaze wandering her way, I reined myself back by harnessing the anger over my momentary lapse in judgment. Which meant I’d been a dick a lot in today’s meeting. But it sure as shit wasn’t my fault her red skirt showed off a lot of leg and kept catching my eye. Or that she wore skinny, four-inch heels that wrapped around her delicate ankle and begged to pierce the skin on my back.

  That shit was all her fault.

  Annalise shifted in her seat and crossed and uncrossed her legs. Like white on rice, my eyes were right there.

  Fuck me. She had great legs.

  I shut my eyes. Nope, can’t look, Fox.

  I counted to five in my head and then opened them, only to notice a cluster of tiny little freckles on her left knee. I had the insane urge to reach over and rub my thumb over them.

  Crap.

  Pull your shit together.

  Annalise moved yet again, and her skirt tugged up another half inch.

  Her red skirt.

  Fitting, because this woman was the damn devil.

  We’d sat two feet apart from each other on the other side of Jonas’s desk for a solid fifteen minutes, listening to him update us on the status of various things related to the merger. Occasionally, Annalise would chime in and say something and look my way, but I stayed quiet with my head straight ahead, focused on the boss rather than letting my eyes do any more roaming.

  “That brings us to the board’s assessment of you two. One of the board members, who is also a major shareholder, brought in an opportunity with a potential new account to pitch.”

  I leaned forward in my chair. “Great. I can handle it.”

  I felt Annalise’s eyes burn into the side of my head. “So can I,” she snapped.

  “No need to argue. You’re both going to handle it. The board has decided this pitch will be one of the accounts you’ll both be reviewed on. You’ll each get to come up with your own campaign. But you should know, our firm is coming into the game a little late here. Two other agencies are already involved, and we’ll have to work on a tight timeline. Pitch is due back in less than three weeks.”

  “Not a problem,” I said. “I do my best work under pressure.”

  From my peripheral vision I caught Annalise rolling her eyes. “What’s the account?”

  “Star Studios. It’s a new division of Foxton Entertainment—the movie studio. This division will concentrate on foreign blockbusters and remake them here.”

  I’d never marketed a studio or a film, but I knew from reviewing Annalise’s account list that she had managed more than a few. Studios were some of her biggest clients. She definitely knew her way around that marketplace—an unfair advantage for something that could ultimately decide what damn state I lived in.

  “I’ve never worked with a movie studio. But that was Wren’s niche.” I lifted my chin toward Annalise. “Fifty percent of her accounts are film related. I don’t think it’s very fair for the board to use a pitch like this to assess our strengths. I have no market experience in this field.”

  Jonas frowned. He knew I had a valid point. “Unfortunately, we don’t have the luxury of picking from too many large proposals. Besides, most of Annalise’s film accounts are for individual movies, and this is marketing for a new production company—they want branding and market strategy. Those are your strengths, Bennett.”

  I looked over at Annalise, and she hit me with an exaggerated I’m-gonna-win-this-one-because-you-don’t-know-shit smile. It pissed me off, but not because she had an unfair advantage. It pissed me off because my first thought was Hey, look at that. She changed her lipstick today, when it should’ve been I’m gonna wipe the floor with you.

  More annoyed with myself than ever, I lashed out at her. “Do you know anyone at the studio? It’s a small industry. I just want to make sure you haven’t slept with anyone over there making decisions.”

  Annalise’s eyes widened then narrowed to angry slits. “I’ve never slept with a client. And your comment is offensive. No wonder HR has worn a trail in the carpet from their office to yours.”

  Jonas sighed. “That was uncalled for, Bennett.”

  Maybe, but this was total bullshit. “I want to use my own team members, not share so that some Wren employee acting as a mole can leak my ideas to her.”

  “No one is a Foster Burnett or a Wren employee anymore. We’re one team. It’s bad enough you two are basically pitted against each other. Your teams are just starting to find their way working together. It will cause a divide if we separate them for this project. You’re both going to need to use the full team’s resources.”

  I stewed. Annalise, on the other hand, kissed ass.

  “I agree,” she said. “We need to keep the team together, not tear them apart.”

  Jonas opened a file and lifted up his glasses to read the top paper inside. “There’s a meeting up in L.A. the day after tomorrow. The studio has invited us for a tour and some backstage insight. You’ll meet with the VP of Production and some of the creative talent. Gilbert Atwood, the board member who got us the pitch, is planning on flying up to join you and some of their people for dinner. So it’ll probably be a late night, and you should plan to stay over. I’ll have Jeanie send you both over the address and contact information so you can make your arrangements.”

  I managed to mutter an insincere thanks at the conclusion of Jonas’s little meeting. Not in the mood for talking to anyone, I went back to my office and shut the door behind me. The door abruptly swung open and slammed shut two minutes later.

  “What the hell is your problem?”

  I was annoyed that she barged in, yet I felt my pulse start to speed up. That only happened on two occasions—when I was about to get into a physical fight, which I’d managed to avoid for at least ten years now, or when I was about to sink inside a woman.

  “Sure. Come on in. Don’t knock or anything.”

  “Knocking would be polite, and obviously we aren’t doing polite anymore.”

  I pressed my knuckles into my desk and leaned forward. “What’s the problem, Annalise? Competitors aren’t supposed to be polite. Football players don’t take the spikes out of their shoes before stepping on a man down to get to the end zone. It’s the nature of the game.”

  She took a few steps toward me and planted her hands on her hips. “What happened between the bar the other night and today? Did I miss something?” Although her stance was firm, her voice bent toward vulnerable. “Did I do something to upset you?”

  Feeling like the dick I was, I lowered my eyes. When they rose up before I spoke again, they couldn’t help but travel over the woman I was about to address. Only along the way, they snagged on something. Annalise’s nipples were pebbled and trying to pierce through her black, silky shirt. They looked like two big, round diamonds calling to a poor man—come and get me, I’m your riches for the taking.

  I swallowed. What the hell did she just ask me? I raised my eyes to meet hers and realized she’d just watched the whole thing—what had stolen my attention and made my mouth salivate. Rightly, she looked even more confused. One minut
e I was accusing her of sleeping with clients, and the next I was ogling her like I wanted to sleep with her.

  It wasn’t just her who was confused. I had no idea what the fuck I was doing.

  We stared at each other for a moment. Eventually, I pulled my shit together, remembered what she’d asked me, and cleared my throat.

  “It’s not personal, Texas. I just think it’s better if we don’t…if we’re not…friendly. There’s no way I can relocate, and the last thing I need is to be distracted because I feel badly that I’m kicking your ass.”

  Annalise’s chin rose. “That’s fine. But you need to be courteous, at least. I didn’t deserve that comment about sleeping with clients, especially not in front of Jonas.”

  I nodded. “Understood. I’m sorry.”

  “And if you don’t want to be friends, you’re going to have to stop following me to hotels.”

  I liked her sassy much better than vulnerable. It took a lot to keep my smirk under wraps. “Noted.”

  She nodded and turned to leave. My eyes immediately dropped to her ass. Once a dick, always a dick. Before I could raise them back up, Annalise turned around to say something else and caught me. This time, it was her trying to hide a smirk. “Non-friends also don’t ogle non-friends.”

  She turned back around, then tossed words over her shoulder as she walked through the doorway. “No matter how great her T&A are.”

  Chapter 15

  * * *

  Annalise

  “How’s the hot guy at work?” Madison asked before biting into a piece of the beef Wellington she’d ordered.

  Her nose scrunched up as she chewed. She didn’t like it. I felt bad for the restaurant owner. It was the third strike, and we were only just beginning our main course. First, the waiter had brought out the wrong appetizers. Then when Madison had asked for wine and dinner recommendations, he’d recommended the most expensive items. The review was going to be painful.

  “Hot guy? Well, he’s an asshole. Then he’s really sweet, but tries to pretend he’s not. Then he’s pretty much an asshole all over again. I don’t want to talk about him.”

  Madison shrugged. “Okay. How’s everything else at work, then? Do you like the people at the new office?”

  I put down my fork. “I just don’t understand it. One day he goes out of his way to help me, and the next he’s rude and ignoring me.”

  She picked up her wine. “Are we talking about the hot guy?”

  “Bennett, yes.”

  She smirked and brought the glass to her lips. “Thought you didn’t want to talk about him.”

  “I don’t. It’s just… He’s so infuriating.”

  “So he’s hot and cold to you.”

  “Scalding and icy would be more like it. Last week, I went to meet Andrew for dinner. Bennett followed me to the hotel because he somehow knew things were not going to end well. And they didn’t. Bennett and I wound up getting something to eat together and talking until midnight. The next morning I saw him in the break room, and he gave me attitude—like the entire night before had never happened.”

  Madison set down her wine glass. “Back up. You met Andrew for dinner? I didn’t get a midnight call or early morning visit the next day. And now we’ve been through drinks and appetizers and this was never mentioned?”

  I sighed. “Yeah. It’s a long story.”

  She pushed her side of mashed potatoes around with her fork. “My food was delivered cold anyway. Start at the beginning.”

  I ran her through Andrew asking me to meet, him rubbing my arm at the hotel restaurant while telling me how much he missed me, but then him also backing up as fast as he could when I asked point blank if he was saying he wanted to be together again. I also filled her in on Bennett’s thoughts on what Andrew wanted before I went and how he’d showed up to pick up the pieces.

  Madison tapped a fingernail to her lips. “So basically you’re saying Bennett’s an asshole to women, so he’s able to foresee what other asshole men are after?”

  “I guess. But the thing that doesn’t reconcile is, if he’s such an asshole to women, why would he try to warn me about Andrew and then be there for me when everything he’d warned me about came true? An asshole wouldn’t care what happened to me before or after. He should’ve been saying I told you so the next day at work instead of letting me talk through things that night.”

  The waiter came by and asked how our meals were. Madison would normally send subpar food back to see how the restaurant handled it, and then give them another chance if they acted professionally. But instead, she fake smiled to the waiter, saying dinner was fine, and ordered another bottle of wine. I had a feeling our discussion was sidetracking her assessment at the moment.

  “Sounds like Bennett might have Beast syndrome,” she said.

  “Beast syndrome?”

  “All men fit into one Disney character or another. That guy I went out with a few months ago who had three video game consoles and hung out with his friends five nights a week? Peter Pan syndrome. Remember last year I dated a guy who told me he was the VP of Finance for a tech company, only to find out he worked in customer service taking orders? Pinocchio syndrome. That gorgeous French guy I went out with who wanted to do it in his bathroom in front of the mirror so he could look at himself? Gaston.”

  I chuckled. “You’re nuts. But I’ll bite. What’s Beast syndrome? Because Bennett is gorgeous, not beastly.”

  “Beast syndrome is when a man constantly roars at you to scare you away. Perhaps he was less than magnanimous in his early days, which he thinks defines who he’s forever banished to be. So he tries to keep people from getting too close. But he’s not really the villain he thinks he is, and every once in a while, a peek of the prince underneath shines through. That usually just makes him roar louder.”

  “So…like, he was a player, and now he thinks he always needs to be that guy instead of a nice guy?”

  Madison shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe he was mean to an old beggar woman. I don’t know the reason, but it sounds like he’s afraid that showing too much of his underlying prince will cause him to get hurt.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. But I do know it’s time I move on from Andrew.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. He’s been stringing you along for years now—claiming you guys couldn’t move in together because he couldn’t have distractions while writing his dumb book for three years. Then when the book was finished, he wasn’t ready to move on because he’d fallen into a depression because the book didn’t do as well as he’d hoped. Guess what? Life sucks. We all have disappointments. You know what we do? We get drunk for a week, then dust ourselves off and get back to work and try harder, not dump the person we love.”

  “You’re right. I’ll always love Andrew. But things have changed from what we had in college and after graduation. He’s not the same happy, spontaneous person he used to be, and he hasn’t been in a long time. I guess I was holding out that he’d magically go back to being the guy who used to show up at my place with a bottle of wine and surprise me with a weekend at a bed and breakfast.”

  Madison reached forward and covered my hand with hers. “I’m sorry, babe. But on the bright side, maybe the next guy will be more into oral.”

  I sighed. The night after Andrew told me he needed a break, I’d gotten way too drunk and spilled my guts on some private things—namely, that Andrew only went down on me on my birthday. When I’d tried to talk about it with him, he’d said he just needed to be in the mood. Apparently, that mood never struck.

  “I think I’ll put that on my match.com profile. Looking for a well-educated, handsome, financially secure man who isn’t afraid of commitment or getting up close and personal with my vagina.”

  The waiter came by and opened our second bottle of wine. He poured two glasses, and Madison didn’t bother waiting until he was out of earshot before lifting her glass in toast. “To cunnilingus.”

  I clicked my glass to hers. Maybe it was the topics
we’d just burrowed through, but I found myself thinking… I bet Bennett would take pride in pleasing a woman, not limit going down on her to once a year.

  ***

  I’d intentionally booked a different flight than my counterpart. Our assistant had asked if I wanted to travel with him, and even though I would’ve preferred to take the seven a.m. flight he’d already been booked on, I chose to take an eight thirty shuttle up to L.A. Our meeting wasn’t until one, and it was only an hour-and-a-half flight, but I liked to be early. Now I looked up at the big board and regretted making a business decision based on anything other than business. My flight was pushed back to eleven, and I’d be cutting it close to get to the meeting on time. Meanwhile, Bennett was probably taxiing right about now. Damn it.

  I took my time at the Hudson News, perusing the latest bestsellers since I was going to have a few extra hours of sitting around. Settling on a popular women’s book about learning to accept who you are, I headed down to the gate to read. Only when I arrived, almost every seat in the boarding area was taken. I figured the flight before me hadn’t started its boarding yet. When I looked up at the sign over the check-in desk, I realized that’s exactly what it was, only the earlier flight was the one that had been scheduled to take off at seven to L.A.—Bennett’s flight.

  I glanced around the waiting area, but didn’t see him.

  “Looking for someone?” a low voice rumbled from behind me, and hot breath tickled my neck.

  I jumped forward, dropped the bag with my book, and almost tripped over my own carry-on luggage. But a large hand gripped my hip and steadied me.

  “Easy. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  My hand flew to cover my rapidly beating heart.

  “Bennett. What the hell? Don’t sneak up on a person like that.”

  “Sorry. I couldn’t resist.”

  I smoothed down my blouse and bent to pick up my book, which had come out of its bag. “Shouldn’t you be on the other side of the terminal if you saw me standing here?”