Driven

by K. Bromberg

  “My mother is doing better, thank you. As for CDE, the company’s primary function is ownership and management of a race team. My race team,” he says exuding pride. “Among other things, our biggest current venture is a cutting edge technology that will help increase the safety quotient for drivers. It is currently patent pending.”

  “Hmmmm,” I contemplate trying to figure out how this can all tie in, “and how exactly are you going to tie a race car or team, per se, into raising funds for orphaned kids and Corporate Cares?” I am back in business mode now, my intellect unaffected by his charm. For the most part. I’m trying to feel out what else is going on though because Colton’s quick flashes of smile resemble the ones he gave me at the charity event. My subconscious tells me there’s a catch here.

  Once bitten, twice shy.

  “Thank you for the segue,” he says. “On Monday, I brought your organization to my team’s attention. After some research, discussions, and brainstorming, we created the following proposal.” He flips the packet on the desk in front of me to the next page and looks at me, pleasure softening his hard features as he announces, “CD Enterprises proposes that up front, we donate one and a half million dollars to Corporate Cares.”

  Holy shit! I try to stifle the words from tumbling out of my mouth. Pride is evident in his eyes as he watches me pensively, quietly gauging my reaction before continuing.

  “In addition to the immediate funds, we plan to devote a portion of my car’s graphics in the upcoming season to promote your cause or mission, if you will.” He sees the confusion and questions forming from the expression on my face and puts his hand up to halt me so he can finish. “We plan on using this advertising spot to entice other companies and race teams to add to the sponsorship. My team will get them to commit to paying a set dollar amount per lap my car completes or a blanket sponsorship.”

  I widen my eyes in disbelief; this could bring in a staggering amount of money for the company. I glance over to Teddy, who is so excited he is fidgeting in his chair, a huge grin on his face. I look back to Colton and my eyes meet his, emerald to amethyst, warring between gratitude and confusion. Why us? Why our company?

  He smiles softly at me as if knows what I’m thinking and is acknowledging my dilemma. Accepting the donation means I have to accept his date. He continues, “We’re ironing out the details as to whether we offer the sponsorship per race or over the whole season. My team in working on that as we speak, seeing as we only have a little under three months until the first race to get as many corporate sponsors as possible.”

  “Isn’t that unbelievable?” Teddy bellows from beside me.

  I turn to him and smile sincerely before turning back to face Colton. “It’s very generous on you and your company’s behalf; I’m just a little baffled as to why us. Why Corporate Cares? What’s the connection?”

  The corners of his mouth turn up, his elbows propped and fingers steepled on the desk in front of his chin. “Let’s just say that you can be very persuasive, Ms. Thomas.” He holds my stare as I inhale a sharp breath of air. “I think I’ll enjoy working with someone as passionate and,” he looks away, finding the word, before bringing his eyes back to mine, “responsive as I found you to be on Saturday night.” He keeps his face impassive although his eyes are anything but as his tongue darts out to lick his lower lip.

  Despite the blood draining from my head at his words, I can feel the flush spread over my cheeks and down my neck. He senses that I get his insinuation for the humor in his eyes is unmistakable. The corners of his eyes crinkle to express his amusement. I squirm under his gaze wishing to be anywhere but here at this moment.

  Like in his bed, under him, with his fingers dancing across my skin and his lips possessing mine. What the fuck? It’s bad enough he’s in my face, now he’s corrupting my thoughts. This is not good. Definitely not good.

  I suppress my anger at the nerve of Colton. I can’t believe he’s just said this. Is referring to my indiscretion in front of my boss really that necessary? How dare he come in my office and provoke me. Remind me of something I’m not proud of. Something I’m not going to forget anytime soon.

  “Responsive,” Teddy says, rolling the word over his tongue in thought, “That is a great way to describe my Rylee here!” He pats me on the back and pride fills his voice for he is completely oblivious to the concealed message that Colton is rather audaciously sending me. “Always going above and beyond.”

  Colton shifts his eyes to Teddy, who is unaware to the unspoken sexual tension in the room. “It is, indeed. And a very hard quality to find in someone,” he nods, agreeing with Teddy. “I watched her in action on Saturday night and was quite impressed.”

  I’ve had enough of this, yet I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s gotten the rise out of me I know he was hoping to with his comments. I don’t want to work with this man, but let’s face it, Corporate Cares has no other option to make all my blood, sweat, and tears over the past two years come to fruition. He’s stepping up to the plate, even if it is some misconstrued, vindictive way of getting back at me for not wanting him or his wanton ways.

  I have to think of this collaboration as a means to end. My boys and the many others who can benefit deserve this new facility. I just don’t realize how much this statement, a means to an end, will become my mantra once I realize the fine print of the agreement.

  “So Mr. Donavan—”

  “Colton, please,” he reiterates.

  “Colton, I understand the premise,” I state primly, wanting to get this conversation back on track, “What exactly is my involvement in this whole collaboration?”

  “Well, Ms. Thomas, I won’t need much from you from a business standpoint for I have a team that is very experienced in this type of thing. Obviously though, I’ll need you to be the point of contact for their questions and other miscellaneous things.”

  It is the miscellaneous other things he has in mind that worries me. “So why—”

  Colton holds up a hand to stop me again, and I am getting rather annoyed at this habit of his. “As I discussed with Teddy, the contract between our companies for the donation is contingent on several factors.” He pauses, squaring up his papers on the table before him. He looks up, his attention focused solely on me. “For the next several months and into the season, I will need a representative of Corporate Cares with me on numerous occasions.”

  He stops as I purse my lips, my eyes enlarging as I hope my assumptions are incorrect. “Me?” I question already knowing the answer.

  “Yes. You.” He mouths. I watch his eyes narrow as I lick my lips for all of the sudden it is rather hot in this conference room. His lips part fractionally as he watches me, and I have to shake the inappropriate thoughts regarding their adept skill out of my head as he continues on in his professional tone. “In conjunction with the announcement of our joining forces, there will be several events—some locally, some out of town—black tie affairs, press junkets, et cetera,” he says, casually waving his fingers in the air in a motion of nonchalance, “that I will need you to escort me to.”

  “What?” I stand up, pushing my chair back with force and look back and forth from Colton to Teddy in bewilderment. How dare he? I tell him no to a date, no to going beyond second base backstage, and he schemes up a way to tie me to him with a contract? What an immature prick! His ego must really be bruised from my rejection.

  I’m dumbfounded. No way. This is not happening. Words I’d love to say to him, to call him, run through my head as I seethe with anger.

  “Is there something the matter, Rylee?” Teddy questions, breaking through my haze of frustration. “I think it’s a brilliant idea.” I turn my head to him, opening my mouth to respond him but nothing comes out. “If Colton’s willing to use his name, his connections, and popularity by standing beside you at a press filled event to get the word out about Corporate Cares, then—”

  “Why not take advantage of it?” Colton finishes for him, a smug s
mile gracing his face.

  I’m starting to feel light-headed, my head spinning from the turn of events. From the only conclusion I can draw, a situation that Colton has designed and mandated just to get his way. I place my hand on the table to brace myself as I slowly sink into the chair, my eyes focusing on an imaginary spot on the papers in front of me.

  “Ry? You okay?” Teddy asks concerned.

  “Huh?” I raise my head up to meet his empathetic eyes.

  “You look a little flushed. Are you feeling okay?”

  “Yeah. Yes.” I answer taking a deep breath. “I’m just—it was a long shift. That’s all,” I conclude, gathering myself. It’s a means to an end, I remind myself. “Sorry,” I apologize to both men. “I’m just overwhelmed that the new project is going to be a reality.” Colton sits silently, analyzing me. I shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

  “Look, Rylee,” Teddy addresses me, “I know you have a lot on your plate right now and this is just adding to it, but it’s so close now we can taste it. There is no one I’d rather have be the face of this organization right now. You’re the one, kiddo.”

  His high praise warms me despite the panic I feel at being trapped. Being forced into a situation that I know will be beneficial for Corporate Cares but no doubt devastating for me.

  Teddy glances at his watch and reaches over to pat my hand, “I have a conference call in five minutes.” He rises from his seat as does Colton. “I trust that I can leave you two in here to fine tune the remaining details.”

  He reaches his hand out to Colton sealing the agreement with a handshake. “Thank you, Colton, for your unexpected generosity. You have no idea how many lives you are helping to change with this gift.”

  An unexplained darkness flickers across Colton’s face. “I understand more than most people might think,” he expresses without explaining further before releasing Teddy’s hand. “Thank you for your warm reception to the idea. My lawyer will be contacting you in the morning to draw up the paperwork.”

  With that Teddy nods his head and exits the conference room. I stand watching the empty doorway, my back toward Colton as I contemplate my next move.

  I’m overwhelmed by his generosity. At his attempt to make my dreams come true, so why can I not feel gratitude toward him? Why do I just want to turn around and throttle him? I mull it over quickly, knowing that I hate having my hand forced in anything. It’s not that I have to be in control—well, maybe just a little bit. But at least I want to be the one making the choices where I’m concerned. Not treated like some compliant woman who submits without question to decisions she is forced to follow.

  Why does he irritate me so much? Is it because every time I look at his lips or watch his fingers rub over his jaw, my body tightens in anticipation of how they felt on me? Or is it because I can hear his rasp of a voice in my dreams telling me how much he wants me? Shit! My life was perfectly fine until last weekend. And then I meet him, and now I’m a flustered mess.

  I shouldn’t care that he was making out and doing God knows what with Bailey, but I do. I’m embarrassed that he probably thinks I let any guy I meet put his hands on me. I’m irritated that I know the only reason for his pursuit is because I’m not falling for his smooth lines and eloquent bullshit. I’m confused why a man who is like a Pied Piper to women much prettier, sexier, everything than me, is even glancing twice in my direction.

  My life is not some Hollywood romance movie where boring girl meets famous boy and they fall madly in love together. I’m not naïve enough to believe that this is going to happen to me.

  And then to further confuse things is my feelings for Max. My commitment to him and my culpability. The feeling of guilt as to why, despite my expressed love for him, I never felt as alive in all my times with him as I did in the few moments I’ve had with Colton. How can I feel so vibrant with someone I barely know when I didn’t with the man I loved?

  I sigh loudly, my body attuned to the proximity of his.

  He chuckles, fueling my irritation as I turn to face him. He is leaning back in his chair, an ankle resting on the opposing knee, his arms causally resting on the armrests. We stare at each other, observing and scrutinizing each other for the first time without bystanders. His eyes lazily wander the length of my body, hesitating at my cleavage. I watch his smile widen in what I can assume is an appreciation of the feminine form in general, not just mine, before they travel down the rest of my curves.

  His beauty really is magnificent, although I’m sure he would disagree with my term. Thick, dark lashes that are a stark contrast to their translucent color frame his green eyes. His strong nose has a slight curve to its line, where at some point it has been broken or damaged. The imperfection in an otherwise perfect face adds to his overwhelming sex appeal. I take in his full lips, the top one slightly thinner than the lower, the darkened stubble that shadows his face, and the pulse that beats steadily under the curve of his jaw. I have the sudden urge to kiss him right there and nuzzle into him, to feel the pulse of this vibrant man beneath my lips. To be enveloped in his clean, earthy scent.

  I shake my head, trying to bring some sense to myself. He quirks his eyebrows and waits for me to make the first move. We stare for several moments as we measure each other. I finally break the silence. “Is this what you call taking matters in to your own hands?”

  “What’s the matter? Can’t handle the temptation, Ryles?” He flashes a wicked, arrogant grin at me, and as much as I want to roll my eyes at him, the temptation before me is all I can think about.

  “Hardly,” I snort.

  He shrugs indifferently. “A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, Ry,” he says. “You left me no choice.”

  “No choice? Really?” I scoff throwing my hands up in disgust. “What are you, fifteen years old throwing a tantrum because you didn’t get your way?”

  “You owe me a date.”

  “All this for a frickin’ date, Ace? Or is it because I denied your sexual ministrations after I came to my senses?” Ugh, he is so frustrating!

  “Oh, you would’ve come all right,” he rebuts sardonically, raising an eyebrow, “and from what I recall, your senses? Those were strewn all over the backstage floor.”

  Smartass! How can he get me so fuming mad when it takes so much more to get me to this point with other people?

  “So because I said no, you offer up tons of money and bind me with a contract through my work? Through my boss? Forcing me to have to spend time with you? Money in exchange for a date? I’m not a whore, Colton.” I rant, waltzing to the window trying to diffuse some of my angst. “Especially not yours!”

  I can hear him shuffling behind me as he rises and walks toward the window. He looks at me through his reflection in the glass window and holds my stare. My body vibrates from his nearness.

  “Let’s get something straight,” he growls at me. “First of all, I have my own reasons for donating the money that have absolutely nothing to do with you. Nothing! Second, I don’t ever pay for dates, Rylee. Ever. I have more class than that.” I can feel his fury roll off him in waves.

  “You paid for a date with me,” I retort.

  “Charity. Auction. Does. Not. Equal. Escort. Service.” He snarls at me, taking a step closer, but never breaking our reflective stare. “Lastly,” he seethes, grabbing hold of my arm to emphasize his point, “I don’t ever want to hear your refer to yourself as a whore again.”

  We stand in silence as his words settle around us. Why the hell does he care what I call myself? He has no claim over me. I know better than to provoke when someone is angry, but I can’t help myself. For some reason I want to push his buttons. If I’m going to be forced to do something, then I might as well say my piece.

  “Then why the contract? The events that I’m required to be your escort for.” I yank my arm out of his grip. “Sounds like your ego is bruised because I won’t succumb to your dazzling charm, so you need to tie me to you to prove to yourself that you still have that magi
c Colton touch. That you haven’t lost it—”

  “I didn’t say anything about bondage,” he smirks, cutting me off. “But if that’s your thing, Rylee, I’d be more than happy to oblige. I can teach you the ropes.”

  I shake my head in disbelief; the meaning of his words as they sink in has blood rushing to my cheeks, before I can meet his eyes in the glass again. “I’m ignoring your last comment,” I say dryly, trying to recall what my point was since he has scattered my thoughts so cleverly. Um—where was I? Oh! “Your ego’s bruised because I won’t fall helplessly at your feet and become your compliant sexual plaything, so you come to my work—take the one thing that I really want, the one thing that I’ve been working toward for over two years—and you serve it up to me on a platter.”

  “And the problem with that is …?”

  “The problem is that you offer it to me with terms that can only logically be explained as self-satisfying for you …” I falter because I realize I’m rambling now. And at some point I’m afraid that if I keep talking, private thoughts may tumble out—thoughts about him. And if I slip, then … he’ll know I think about him more than I should.

  Colton sidles up next to me, leaning his shoulder on the glass, staring at my profile. Our silence extends for several moments, my anxiety ratcheting from his quiet scrutiny.

  When he speaks, his voice is demandingly soft, “Why won’t you go out on the date with me?”

  Whoa, change of subject! A sliver of a laugh escapes my mouth from nerves. I keep my face averted from his, watching the world outside. “For what reason? You and I come from different worlds, Colton, that have different rules. You want a date so you can add another to the many notches in your bedpost. You said you wanted to fuck me to get me out of your system, and move on,” I say, reiterating his threat. In my periphery, I see him blanche at my words. “You may be used to women declaring their love for you and dropping their panties at clever lines such as that but not this one.”

  Colton starts to speak. I know he’s going to drop a witty one liner about how I’ll have no problem dropping mine for him. Using one of his own tactics, I stop him before he can interrupt by holding my hand up. “My time with you was a momentary indiscretion on my part. One that will never happen again.” I turn my face to look Colton in the eyes. “I’m not that kind of girl, Ace.”