Conflicted

by Lisa Suzanne

  “Congratulations, Mr. Benson.”

  “There’s more. You’ve really proven yourself in the month I’ve been here, and I’d like to give you more responsibility. I’m putting you on the MTC account.”

  “What?” I sputtered in shock.

  “It’s only if you’re interested, and you’ll be working side-by-side with me. I’ll make the final calls, but you’ll have a hand in market research, product development, creating campaigns, data analysis, the whole nine yards. It’s a big jump from assistant, but I believe you have the skills and determination to handle it in addition to your current responsibilities.”

  “May I ask what brought this on?” I asked, shocked that he’d want me so involved with such an important account.

  “Two things, actually. I’ve been considering giving you more responsibility for some time now. But it was Mathers who really convinced me.”

  “Mathers?”

  “Lincoln Mathers,” he clarified. “He said he was impressed with your attention to detail.”

  “How would he know about that?”

  He smiled sheepishly. “He asked me how I remembered so much about our dinner meeting. I was honest and told him you were my memory.”

  “Thank you for the credit,” I said, shocked that he’d given it to me.

  “He told me, and I quote, ‘Don’t let that one out of your sight. She’s a valuable asset.’ When I told him I’d consider putting you on the account, he said he was all in. He sees something in you, Ms. Cleary. And I have to admit, I see it, too.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I asked incredulously.

  “I never kid about business, Ms. Cleary.” His voice was stern, but I detected a definite note of pride. I couldn’t have imagined this trip getting off to a better start.

  The flight attendant started her speech about airplane safety, effectively ending our conversation.

  My mind raced with possibilities. If I thought I was putting in long hours before, I couldn’t imagine what this new challenge would bring. And I’d be working alongside Cole, which was both a blessing and a curse. He was an expert at what he did, and it would be an honor to work with him on the actual creative side of the business instead of just as his assistant.

  But it would also present additional obstacles. Just when I hoped I might be able to overcome my crush, I was going to be spending a lot more time with him.

  And with him being so nice to me as to move me up to first class and essentially give me a promotion, the crush was back in full force.

  Maybe even a little stronger than before.

  Or maybe a lot stronger.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  My plans of reading were shot to hell when I woke with a start.

  I hadn’t realized I’d fallen asleep, and as I lifted my head and looked around, I saw my boss smirking at me. I rubbed my eyes, careful not to smear my make-up.

  I looked out the window. We were on the ground.

  I was immensely confused, but the pieces started to fit slowly together.

  We’d celebrated with mimosas, and the champagne had knocked me out. The jostling of the landing gear hitting the ground woke me. I’d slept for the entire flight.

  On my boss’s shoulder.

  I glanced down, thanking God that at least I hadn’t left drool behind. “I’m sorry,” I said, blushing furiously.

  “You were so adorably peaceful, I couldn’t wake you.”

  Did he just call me adorable?

  I couldn’t decide if his playful personality shift was going to make this trip fun or dreadful. If he was going to completely change and start being a decent human being, I was screwed.

  We stood when the flight attendant opened the door, and Cole grabbed his luggage down from the overhead bin. He glanced over at me as if he was waiting for me to say where my bag was. “I checked my luggage,” I explained.

  He rolled his eyes, the old irritation back. I liked sweet Cole, but I was pretty sure I preferred irritated Cole. It was the beast I was most used to, and it provided a tiny shield of defense against my attraction to him.

  A man holding a sign that said “Benson” greeted us outside the terminal. Apparently he was the ride I had arranged for us. “Don Henderson,” he introduced himself.

  Cole jerked his thumb toward me and rolled his eyes again rather than introducing himself. “She checked.”

  The man nodded. “I’ll get her bags, sir,” he said.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I’ll get it. I’m Lucy, by the way.” Cole shot me a warning look, as if I shouldn’t fraternize with the help—or, at the very least, I should demand he call me Mrs. Cleary—but I ignored him and chatted with Don as we walked toward baggage claim.

  My bag tumbled down the carousel a few minutes later, and then Don led us to the big, black GMC Yukon we’d be traveling in for the next five days. We were quiet in the backseat, the pleasantries from the plane long forgotten as the nice Cole burrowed back into his hole and the mean one emerged again. He studied his phone as usual, and I sat and stared out the window at New York City. I didn’t want to miss a second of scenery as it passed by my window.

  I probably should’ve texted my husband to let him know I’d arrived safely, but the childish part of me wanted him to worry about me. It would be nice to know he still felt something for me—even if it was concern for my well-being.

  So I waited it out, hoping he’d text me first as I stared out at the magic that made up New York. Traffic was horrid, drivers were crazy, and pedestrians took unnecessary risks in their rush to get wherever they were going, but I was in love with this city.

  “I’m meeting with a client tonight, and tomorrow we’ll attend the conference during the day and dinner at night. There’s a mixer, but we should skip it to finalize Friday’s presentation. The conference ends early Sunday, and I’ve blocked out some time Sunday night to meet up with friends. You’re free to do what you want Sunday night and Monday morning, and then we head home. Any questions?”

  I shook my head. At least I’d have some free time while I was there, provided Cole didn’t change plans last minute and schedule additional business meetings.

  We pulled in front of the hotel, and Don got out to open Cole’s door first and then mine. “Mr. Henderson, we’ll need you back for an eight o’clock dinner at Brighton. We’ll be down at half past seven.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Cole nodded once, and then Don took our bags out of the back of the Yukon. He handed them to the bellhop, and Cole and I headed inside to check in.

  I’d booked our rooms at the hotel where the conference was being held. We walked to the check-in counter, a long slab of white quartz that sparkled in the light. Crystal chandeliers hung down from the ceiling, casting a glow over the lobby. The place was chic, modern, and expensive—perfect for someone like Cole, but a bit upscale for someone like me.

  Thank goodness he was footing the bill, because I’d never have been able to afford a place like this.

  “Reservation for Benson,” Cole said, handing over his license and credit card.

  “Yes, sir,” the woman behind the counter said as her eyes lingered on Cole a bit longer than necessary. I glanced at her nametag: Gretchen.

  “I have a suite with a view of Times Square and a king bed.”

  “The reservation should be for two rooms,” Cole said.

  “I’m only showing one.”

  Cole shot me a look. “Did you book two rooms?”

  “Yes, I booked two.” I pulled up the reservation in the reminder email I’d received just two days earlier. I swore I’d booked two rooms, but I felt suddenly nervous as heat crawled up my spine.

  1 King Suite – nonsmoking – Times Square view

  How the hell had this happened? One king suite? I definitely booked two rooms. I knew I had, but it was right there in black and white.

  I pulled up the email confirmation I received right after I’d booked the room almost two weeks earlier. That one said two rooms, but th
e more recent one showed just one suite.

  What the hell?

  “Sorry, it appears my assistant made a mistake. Put a second room on the card,” Cole said.

  “I can check, but we might be full,” Gretchen said, tapping on her keyboard. Her eyebrows knit together in concentration. “I’m so sorry,” she said after a few moments. “We are completely booked.”

  “Shit,” Cole muttered under his breath.

  “It’s fine,” I said. “It was my mistake. I’ll just find another hotel nearby.”

  “I’ll make some calls for you,” Gretchen said.

  “Go ahead,” Cole said.

  We waited in silence while Gretchen worked.

  After his compliments earlier that day regarding my attention to detail, I couldn’t believe I’d made such a rookie mistake.

  A tiny, horrendous thought crept into my mind that my subconscious had done this on purpose.

  I brushed it away.

  But would it really be so bad to have to stay in the same room with Cole?

  Yes, it would be. It would be temptation and it would go directly against my initiative to eliminate my crush on him and focus on John.

  It would lead me down a path that I couldn’t come back from, even if nothing happened between us. It didn’t matter, anyway, since it was an unrequited crush.

  Was having feelings for someone else just as bad as acting on it? Were feelings considered cheating?

  At what point was I crossing the line?

  If having feelings for someone else meant cheating, then I’d been cheating for a while. I’d chalked it up to a crush, but it was time to be honest with myself.

  Crushes came and went, but my heart fluttered every time Cole walked into the room. He treated me like shit half the time, but it was better than the indifference my husband treated me with. I dressed every morning with the intention of impressing a man who wasn’t my husband. I did my hair and make-up thinking about him. I went to the office, working hard and staying late with the hope I’d have more time to talk to him.

  It had grown into more than a crush despite my best efforts to suppress it.

  “I’m so sorry, but the closest hotel with vacancy is about five miles away. Would you like me to book that for you?” Gretchen looked directly at Cole, not me.

  Cole sighed. “With traffic that’ll be a nightmare. Just give me two keys.”

  She printed our keys and gave us directions to our room, and then we headed toward the elevators.

  I thought back to the night on the elevator when I’d wanted him to kiss me after the MTC dinner. I wondered how different this elevator ride would be.

  He remained silent as we boarded the small car alone. I chanced a glance in his direction, and he was scowling as he stared at the floor numbers on the electronic panel of the elevator.

  “I’m so sorry, Mr. Benson.”

  He ignored me, which felt an awful lot like being at home.

  We entered our room, and I was glad I’d at least booked a suite. It had two rooms—one with the king bed in it, and another that was a living area with a couch, some recliner chairs, a television, and a wet bar—in addition to the large and luxurious bathroom complete with a soaker tub.

  “Take the bedroom,” he said.

  “No, you should have it. You need good sleep for your presentation.”

  “I insist. I’ll take the couch.”

  “I’m sorry again,” I said, surprised that he was being such a gentleman after I’d made such an idiotic mistake.

  “You know how I feel about apologies.”

  I nodded, because I did know. He expected me to work efficiently and never make mistakes.

  A knock sounded at the door, and the bellhop dropped off our luggage. He put my suitcase in the bedroom.

  “Be ready for dinner around seven,” Cole said, pulling his laptop out of his suitcase. “I’ll need to prep you on a few things before we go.”

  “Yes, sir.” I went in the bedroom and shut the door to freshen up after our long flight. I didn’t have much time to kill.

  I shot off a quick text to John. Landed and safe at the hotel.

  I waited for a response while I brushed my hair, and I still didn’t have one after I’d applied my make-up, changed clothes, and spritzed on some perfume.

  I wanted to give Cole as much privacy as I could, so I stayed in my room until about five minutes before he’d requested me to meet him. I found him sitting on the couch, a tumbler in his hand filled with ice and some amber liquid. He took a sip as he stared out the window. He was lost in thought, and he hadn’t heard me. I indulged in a few seconds of shameless staring. He’d freshened up, too, and he looked spectacular in black pants paired with a charcoal shirt. He was the picture of professionalism. And beauty.

  Allure.

  Masculinity.

  Sex.

  I cleared my throat at that thought, and he snapped out of his reverie and turned his attention toward me. I couldn’t help but notice the slight appreciation in his eyes as he looked me up and down. I’d settled on a turquoise dress that was low cut enough to be fun in case we went out anywhere but could also pass for professional.

  I swore I wasn’t just imagining things. I wanted him to take notice, and he was.

  I just wasn’t sure if he’d act on it.

  I wanted him to.

  More than ever.

  But I would never be the one to make the move. If he did, that was one thing. Then I could say yes or no. I should say no, but I wasn’t convinced I would.

  I waited for a compliment because I knew I looked good, but he didn’t give me one. He shook his head slightly and took another sip of his amber liquid, averting his eyes to the window.

  “Tonight we’re meeting with the CEO of GeoTech. It’s an account I secured a few years ago, just a follow up while I’m in town. I’m good friends with him, so it’ll be sort of a boy’s night. Will you be uncomfortable with that?”

  “What does that mean, exactly?” I asked.

  “It means swearing and cigars and I can’t say we haven’t ended up at a strip club before.” He said it in a rush, like he was embarrassed to admit it, while he stared down at the floor.

  It sounded like a whole lot of fun to me.

  “I can handle it,” I said.

  “Are you sure?”

  I nodded.

  “Are you easily offended? Because if you are, I need to know now.”

  I shook my head, and he pulled some paperwork out of his suitcase and set it on the desk. He handed me a pen.

  “Can I get that in writing?” His voice held a tinge of nervousness that I hadn’t expected to hear from him.

  I giggled. I couldn’t help it. I glanced through the paragraph that basically said I wouldn’t sue him if sexual comments were made in my presence. I signed with a flourish and handed him back the papers.

  “Thanks,” he mumbled.

  “You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

  “I’m not.” He totally was.

  I held back another giggle, and he eyed my outfit again.

  “Is what I’m wearing okay?” I asked, glancing down self-consciously.

  He paused, his eyes flicking to my breasts for just a moment that I was certain I hadn’t imagined.

  “Yeah. It’s…uh…it’s fine.”

  Don was waiting for us exactly where he’d dropped us off only a few hours earlier. Cole ushered me into the back of the Yukon. My phone buzzed in my purse, likely with a text from my husband finally replying to mine from earlier…but I ignored it. I was officially on business time as we made our way to dinner, despite what the paper I’d signed may have implied.

  Don expertly darted from lane to lane, and we made it to Brighton ten minutes early—just the way Cole liked to arrive. “You never want to be the last to arrive to a business meeting,” he’d explained to me a couple of weeks earlier. When I’d asked why, he said, “Because you might miss any business that takes place before your arrival.”

/>   A hostess led us to our table, a round affair with seating for six.

  After I ordered my standard glass of white wine and Cole ordered some fancy bourbon I’d never even heard of, he said, “You’ll be my eyes and ears tonight, Ms. Cleary. I don’t plan on remembering too much.”

  “Yes, sir.” I chuckled. So that was why he’d brought me with? So he could get drunk?

  A man with a small entourage made his way to our table. The leader of the pack was probably around Cole’s age—late twenties, I guessed. He was attractive and rugged and definitely fit all the qualities of my type. Not that it mattered.

  Cole stood and gave one of the men one of those bro-handshake-half-hug things. “Good to see you, man. This is my assistant, Lucy Cleary.” It was the first time I’d heard Cole actually use my first name, and I loved the way it sounded. I imagined him saying it in the throes of a heated moment.

  I snapped out of it as the man extended his arm toward me. I took his hand in a firm grip.

  “Vince Hanover,” he said.

  “Nice to meet you.” I smiled, trying not to blush as his dark eyes bored into mine.

  “Assistant my ass,” he said to Cole after he broke his gaze with me.

  The whole “trying not to blush” thing was shot to hell with that comment as I waited for Cole’s reaction.

  “Give me a break,” Cole said. “She’s married.”

  I let out a disappointed breath, but he was absolutely right. I was married. I was off limits to all men, no matter what sort of attraction I found myself having.

  Cole’s words sent an icy chill down my spine. He’d just confirmed that even if there was an attraction between the two of us, nothing ever could or would happen. He wasn’t going to get involved with a married woman, and he probably assumed that I wouldn’t get involved with him.

  I wished I could say he was right.

  But he wasn’t.

  “These assholes came along for a free dinner,” Vince said, motioning to his “entourage” of three other men. He introduced them as Brock, Tanner, and Aaron.

  We placed our orders as I stared at the men and memorized their names. All four of them ordered the same bourbon Cole was drinking. I wondered for a moment if that was why Cole had ordered it in the first place—did he know his clients that well and wanted to make them feel comfortable? Or was he drinking it because he actually liked it?