People started clearing out of the arena, but he didn’t move. Neither did she. Truth be told, he didn’t want the night to end. It had been…fun. So much fucking fun it was almost like a dream. Like he’d fallen asleep at his desk and would soon wake up with his head resting on a stack of reports, instead of having Maggie at his side.
If that was the case, he didn’t want to wake up. He wanted to stay where he was.
He enjoyed hanging out with Maggie, and if they got up, it would be over. She’d go home, and he’d go home, and he’d be alone in his apartment, like always.
Funny. That didn’t sound as appealing as it had a week ago.
“But still.” He sat back down, his knee brushing against hers. He clenched his jaw. All night long, those accidental touches had been killing him, and she suffered, too. He saw the tension in her growing with each soft touch. He felt it, too. “It’s a respect thing. Gentlemen shouldn’t curse in front of ladies.”
She snorted. “Lucky for you I’m not a lady. I’m just me.”
“Ah, but I disagree.” He turned Maggie’s way, and those gray eyes of hers were glowing with so much life. And, damn it, he wanted to feel that way, too. To remember what it felt like when he’d been…well, himself. “You’re more of a lady, and more deserving of respect, than anyone else I’ve ever met. You’re amazing Maggie, and don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise.”
She swallowed hard and shifted closer to him. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He glanced away, before he did the unthinkable and touched her cheek, or gave up resisting, broke the rules, and kissed her. The worst part was he could see the matching desire burning in her eyes, but she refused to give in. “And I’m sorry for my outburst.”
All his life, he’d been taught to hide his emotions. To never show happiness, fear, or even excitement. For a while, he’d balked against those constraints. He’d been alive. But then his father had died, and all that had changed. Around Maggie, the balance shifted again. Tiny pieces of the real him came out to play.
And it was good to get a portion of himself back.
“It makes me happy, seeing you so…” She set a soft hand on his arm. “Free.”
He couldn’t see it, since he’d refocused on the ice, but he could feel it deep down to his soul. It was as if when she touched him, she somehow made him brighter—which was ridiculous. “I’m not free.”
“And you never will be, with your mother on your back.”
He lifted a shoulder, watching the Zamboni smooth the ice. “It’s fine. She’s just got a set of goals in mind for me, and when I don’t follow through with her plans, she gets upset.”
That, and she hates me—for good reason. But he wouldn’t say that out loud. It would only sound like a pity party, and he didn’t do those.
“I get that,” she said softly. She sipped her beer, also watching the machine as it smoothed away the blemishes in the ice. Too bad they didn’t make those for your life. Benjamin could think of a few incidents he’d like to smooth over, too. Maggie went on. “My ex was like that. Overbearing. Controlling. Irrational.”
He glared down at his beer. “I hope you kicked him to the curb quick.”
“Not quick enough.” She side-eyed him. “Not before I needed a court order against him to make him to leave me alone.”
He growled deep in his throat, not even meaning to. The fact that she’d been scared enough—hurt enough—to need an injunction infuriated him. “What’s his name? I’ll kill him.”
“No need.” She smiled, but it was a sad one. “He did that himself, after writing me a note that told me it was all my fault.”
He swallowed. That kind of history explained so much about her reluctance to let him in. To trust him. Hell, he didn’t blame her. Not after what she’d been through. And the worst part was, Maggie was the kindest person he’d ever met. She didn’t deserve that. “It wasn’t your fault,” he said.
“Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t.” She lifted the beer to her lips. “Either way, it only proves how bad I am at relationships. It’s why I stopped trying. He wasn’t the first guy to show me that love isn’t worth the fight, but I swore he’d be the last.”
Which was why she refused to let him kiss her. She was scared they’d come to a messy end. And even with all of that, she had gone through a hell of a lot of effort to give him the best date he’d ever had. She’d shown him kindness he could never, and had never, shown another person. It was humbling, and embarrassing, and it made him like her even more.
He’d needed her to reminded him what it was like to open yourself up and let another person in. And, against all reason, he wanted that person to be her. He wanted all of her. Even if he didn’t deserve her.
“Christ.” He shook his head and glared down at his beer. “I’m sorry.”
She froze, her beer still at her lips. Lowering it, she swiped her hand across her mouth. “What for?”
“For not putting in even a fraction of the effort that you’ve obviously put into this date.” He reached out and caught her hand, and for once she didn’t pull away. “I’ll do better next time. I swear it.”
She swallowed hard. “It’s fine. I mean, it’s not like we’re actually dating.”
He’d become so good at hiding his desires and emotions that he’d forgotten how to voice them out loud. But with Maggie, he wanted to, and he wanted to stop pretending that she was just a way for him to keep his position. “So you keep saying.”
She sipped her beer, not meeting his eyes. “Well, that’s because it’s true.”
He had the distinct impression she said that out loud for her benefit instead of his. He also suspected that she didn’t believe it any more than he did, because it felt fucking real. Right here, right now, it did. “It doesn’t matter anymore if this is real, or if it isn’t. I think you’re fooling yourself, and me. Or maybe I am.”
Her breath whooshed out. “I’m not sure what you’re saying.”
“That’s because I’m not making any sense,” he said, frustration clear in his tone. He rested a hand on her thigh. It trembled under his touch. “You obviously put a hell of a lot of thought into this date, which either means you wanted to prove a point about how much I screwed up Saturday night—”
“What?” She shook her head. “No. Not at all.”
He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Or you care about what I think and feel, and wanted to make me happy.”
She swallowed hard. “Yeah. And so what if I do?”
“It’s been a hell of a long time since anyone gave a damn what I wanted. This thing we have between us? It’s no longer just for show. Not on my end.” He gritted his teeth, trying to think of the best way to articulate his thoughts without sounding like an idiot. “I want you.”
“Benjamin…”
“Tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll never mention this again.” He held on to her chin with his thumb and forefinger, keeping his touch gentle enough for her to turn away if she wanted. She didn’t. “Tell me you don’t want me to fuck you. Tell me I’m wrong.”
She closed her mouth, opened it, and said, “You’re not wrong. I do. But—”
“Shh.” He pressed a finger to her mouth. “You don’t want to want me, because you think it’s a horrible idea, and that I’m going to hurt you like all the guys before me.”
“Right,” she whispered, her eyes drifting shut. “And you’re my boss, so when that happens, it’ll be even worse. That’s why it’s a terrible idea.”
When he hurt her. Not if.
She was so certain that’s how they would end, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that—besides the fact that he didn’t like it. “All great ideas start with bad ones. No one gets it right all the time.”
She swallowed. “But this is all happening so fast, and—”
“It’s not, though.” He removed his finger from her soft, kissable lips. Lips he couldn’t have. “I’ve wanted you ever since the first day you started workin
g for me. You walked into my office with your hair down. You wore that black skirt, and a blue blouse, with a pair of black heels. Do you remember what you said to me?”
A small sound escaped her, and she stared at him as if she couldn’t believe he remembered what she wore that day. “I think I told you my name, and informed you that I intended to be the best researcher you’d ever met.”
“I think you’ve become that.” He smiled. “That’s how you made this happen tonight. You researched, right?”
“Seriously. I was just trying to give you a good night,” she said quickly. “It was nothing.”
“If you want it to be nothing,” he said slowly, locking gazes with her. “It can be nothing. Or, it can be something.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean if you don’t want more, I’ll make sure you never find out how much I want to kiss you again, or how it’s all I think about. I’ll stop telling you that what you did for me tonight means something, something real, and I’ll act like I don’t give a shit.” He lifted a shoulder. “I’m good at that. I’ve had a lot of practice at hiding what I think and feel.”
“I’d never want that.” She shook her head. “Don’t hide your feelings from me.”
He smiled slightly. “Fine. You want honesty?”
“Uh…” She hesitated, but nodded. “Sure. Go for it.”
“In just these few short days, you’ve made me feel things I wasn’t sure I could anymore, and I think you could do a hell of a lot more, if we both let you.”
“Benjamin—”
“I know. I know.” He let go of her. “You’re not interested. But I had to say it. For the first time in years, I want to lay it all out there, in the open for all to see, because you deserve nothing less.”
“Why do you feel like you have to hide your emotions at all?” she asked.
He sucked in a breath, watching her. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for this conversation.
She must have seen the panic in his eyes. “Never mind. It’s—”
“No.” He reached out and rested a hand on hers. “My father had a heart attack. While they rushed him to the hospital, I was out drinking and getting laid. I didn’t even make it home before he died, and ever since, I’ve been trying to make up for that. I never will, but it doesn’t keep me from trying.”
She watched him closely, as if everything suddenly made sense to her. As if she understood him better now, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. And that uncertainty in the face of opening up to someone was what a real date was supposed to be like. “That wasn’t your fault. You had no way of knowing he would die that night.”
She was wrong. It was his fault. “It doesn’t matter. That’s in the past. I want to talk about now.” He cupped her cheek and gave her a small smile. “And right now? I want you. I want you so damn bad it hurts. And not just because I want to fuck you. I want all of you, Maggie.”
“I…” Her lids drifted shut, and she let out a small, almost broken sound. “I’m not sure what to say.”
Something stabbed him in the chest, sending a piercing phantom pain throughout his body. He’d known she didn’t want him, but it still hurt. “Do you want me to take it back? To pretend this conversation never happened?”
“I—no.” She hesitated, but shook her head. “I don’t want that at all.”
A strong surge of gratification rushed through him. He’d given her an out, and she hadn’t taken it. “How about this? We treat this whole going out and spending time together like a real thing between us—not romantic, necessarily, but friends. I like you, Maggie, and I want to be your friend.”
Swallowing hard, she nodded once. “I’d like that, Benjamin.”
“Then let’s be real with one another and see where things go. If they turn romantic, we’ll deal with that when it comes.” He shrugged. “But if we stay just friends for the rest of our lives, and only friends, I’m fine with that, too. But I’m not going to lie. I’m hoping for more. And I think you are, too.”
And he would stop at nothing to make sure they both got what they wanted.
She bit the corner of her lower lip. “This thing wouldn’t work. You’re from a different world than I am. We might be able to make it work for the short-term, fake engagement, but real feelings? It would never hold. Statistically speaking, we’re—”
“Do you always read the end of the book before the beginning?”
She lowered her head and peeled her label off her beer. “Well, actually, yeah. I do. Every time.”
“Why do you do that?” he asked.
She shrugged, still staring down at her bottle. “So I know what to expect. I like advance warning, so I don’t get attached to anyone or anything that doesn’t make it to the end.”
“That might work in fiction, but in real life?” He caught her hand, stopping her from peeling the label off any more than she already had. “You can’t skip ahead to the end, especially not with us. There’s no way in hell to know how it’ll end.”
“But—” Her fingers curled into a fist inside his. “Yeah, okay. You’re right.”
“We’ll take it slow. Real slow. Spend time together. Start at the beginning of our story, and we’ll figure out the end when we get there.” He gave her a small smile. “So, what do you say? Do you want to read our story with me?”
She laughed. “Oh my God. I can’t believe I’m saying this…but yes. Slowly. As friends.”
“Excellent.” He grinned, resisting the urge to pick her up and kiss her. He’d just gotten her agreement to give him a chance to—hell, he wasn’t sure what the hell he was doing when it came to Maggie. But he’d figure it out as he went, like he’d said. Lifting her hand to his mouth, he kissed her knuckles. “I can’t wait to get to the sex scenes, though. I assure you, they’ll be worth a second read.”
She laughed, throwing her head back. It was the prettiest sound he’d ever heard, hands down. “You’re incorrigible, Benji.”
He scowled. “About that name—”
“I tried it on for size because it felt right.” She shot him a cocky grin and finished off her beer. The crowds around them had thinned out. “I was right. It stays.”
“Fine, darling.” He stood up and helped her to her feet, holding on to both of her hands. His blood rushed hotter when she didn’t immediately move away. “If it stays, so does this.”
Lowering his head, he gave her plenty of time to back off, or turn away. She didn’t. She actually fisted his jacket and tugged him closer, so he melded his mouth to hers. He kept the kiss sweet and short, not wanting to push her too hard or too fast. When he pulled back, his entire body protesting the motion, he rested his forehead on hers.
Her breasts touched his chest, and she clung to him. It took every ounce of his self-control not to press closer to her. To not take more than a damn kiss.
Being with her, holding her in his arms, made everything thing seem brighter. Happier. Shinier. He had no fucking idea what any of that meant, but there was no denying it anymore. He’d never wanted to have someone so badly before, and that definitely meant something, so he’d keep his hands to himself. Keep his eye on the goal. Be patient. Caring. Understanding.
And in the end…he’d win.
Chapter Eight
Four days.
That was how long she and Benjamin had been hanging out, after agreeing at the hockey game to become friends for real, after becoming fake engaged. Backward, yes, but whatever. It was working…as long as she ignored the fact that she wanted him so much it physically hurt. Which was stupid.
She’d always been good at making logical decisions. She never made a choice without thinking through all the details and possibilities. Some might even say she overanalyzed everything—and they’d be right. She totally did.
Except when it came to Benjamin Gale.
When it came to him, she wasn’t rational at all.
They’d spent the last few days getting to know one another. Turned out, they had a lot
more in common than being workaholics. They both liked hockey and basketball, and cats more than dogs. They preferred dark chocolate, and when he laughed, it made her think that maybe she was crazy for holding herself away from him.
She liked him. A lot.
Which was why she was so screwed.
They hadn’t kissed or done anything that wasn’t strictly on a “just friends” level since the night of the hockey game. He’d been one hundred percent proper at all times. If she was honest with herself, she missed the way he used to be. She’d give anything to have him look at her as if he wanted nothing more than to see what she wore underneath her skirts and blouses. She couldn’t think about anything else but finding out what lay beneath those suits.
The office quieted, so she glanced up.
If they were quiet, that meant…
“Hey,” Benjamin said, his deep voice sending a shiver down her spine like always. He wore a navy blue suit, a green shirt, and a striped gray tie. He looked as impeccably handsome as ever, and her stomach tightened at his proximity. Resting his big, calloused hands on her desk, he leaned close, lowering his voice so only she could hear him. “Shouldn’t you be gone by now, getting ready for tonight?”
She swallowed and set down her pen. Tonight was her debut in his world, at the mayor’s freaking ball. No pressure or anything. It wasn’t as if she was meeting anyone important, or being seen by anyone important. Just, ya know…
The Mayor of New York freaking City.
“I think this is a horrible idea,” she said for what had to be the billionth time.
He sighed. “So you keep saying. And as I keep saying, you’ll do fine. Did you use my card to get your outfit?”
“Yes. But—”
He rubbed his jaw. “It’s red, right?”
“Yes.”
A quick nod of his head. “I’ll wear my red bowtie.”
“How can you be so calm about this?” She stood and tossed her glasses on the desk. “I’ll make a fool out of myself, and you, and you’ll regret ever asking—”
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