Men at Work

by Karen Kendall, Cindi Myers

  “Out!” she repeated, all hot and bothered and sexy. She stamped her foot.

  “You don’t mean that, mi amor.” He eyed her like a cat would eye a fresh, teriyaki-glazed mouse.

  “I do mean it, you rotten excuse for a man! Get out.” Her whole body quivered with indignation and rage.

  Ben quirked his mouth and took a couple of leisurely steps toward her. Then he peeled off his shirt and dropped it onto the floor.

  “No,” she said, her eyes blazing.

  He simply smiled. He took another step toward her and said, “Come here, mi corazón. Come to papa.”

  “Get away from me. Are you out of your mind?” But she glanced at his chest, touched the tip of her tongue to her lips and swallowed convulsively. He knew he had her. He grinned.

  “Please excuse us,” he said to a burly woman who had been packing glassware but now simply stood there, slack-jawed, looking as if she’d like to lick him. Her gaze moved speculatively to his crotch.

  Ben raised an eyebrow at her, snaked an arm around Marina’s waist and pulled her to him.

  “No. Not even,” she said. “Don’t you dare ki—”

  Ben settled his mouth over hers and devoured the rest of her words. He felt her resistance waver, then crumble as she responded to him. “Mmm,” he said against her lips, pulling her hair out of its ponytail and tangling his fingers in it. “I think you and me and my small penis should go upstairs for a while, mi amor. What do you say?”

  An unintelligible sound emerged from her throat, a sound that he took to mean agreement. Ben threw Marina over his shoulder, then headed for the staircase.

  “Ay, caramba!” uttered the burly woman.

  He turned and winked at her.

  MARINA’S NORMALLY NEAT bedroom was a mess, full of boxes and plastic sheeting. The closet doors stood open and Ben was amazed to see that eighty-five percent of her clothes were missing, even if her shoes and bags were still abundant.

  She’d given her clothes away for him? In spite of the silliness of it all, his heart turned over. She was trying, in her unique way, to let him know that he wasn’t just a plaything to her. That she would make an effort to live on his terms.

  He deposited her onto the unmade bed, disturbing Gnarly, who had crawled under the covers to escape the chaos of the movers.

  Gnarly evaluated the prospects for petting and decided that they were not good, based on the overabundance of pheromones in the air. He shot them a disgusted glance and headed for the closet.

  Ben peeled off Marina’s aerobics outfit piece by piece, kissing every inch of skin he bared and loving the way her hair spread across the pillow. Her quick intakes of breath, her soft moans, the way she involuntarily arched her back—everything about her turned him on.

  And when finally they were both completely naked, her heels pressed into his back, he reveled in the way she accepted him into her body, her gasp as he slid all the way home.

  He withdrew and drove in hard, making her squeak. He changed their angle so that he rubbed against the spot that would make her the hottest, make her beg for release. He pressed her knees farther apart and filled her, possessed her completely.

  She closed her eyes, her breathing coming in shallow gasps.

  Ben bent his head and captured a nipple between his teeth. He tugged lightly, then swirled his tongue over the tip while she moaned. “Now, about my small penis. You were saying?”

  “Ah, ah, ah,” was all Marina could manage.

  “I think you have an excellent point there,” Ben told her, tonguing the other nipple.

  “Oh, yes!”

  “So, mi vida, you were in actuality trying to tell me that I’m hung like an…elephant. Right?”

  “Mmmmpphf. Yes—oh, yes! Oh, Ben…”

  His own breath began to come in pants. He ground against her.

  She started to tremble all over and he thrust deeper, slower, the way he knew she liked it. Her body tensed around him and, with a small cry, she climaxed while he took pleasure in her pleasure before seeking his own happy ending.

  Ben stayed embedded in her afterward, resting on his elbows and between her soft, warm thighs. Her beautiful face was flushed and her eyes had gone dreamy. At times like this, it was easy to forget that she wore money like a heavy perfume. Right now, she was just a woman—and he was just a man—and they were in love.

  He stirred inside her; she clenched around him in an intimate embrace. And to his surprise, he hardened again. He couldn’t ever seem to get enough of her; make her quite enough his.

  Was her friend, Chloe, right? Did the luxury surrounding Marina make him feel as if he had a small penis? Because he, the man in her life, hadn’t provided her with that luxury?

  Ben almost snorted. Ridiculous. Chloe and her poppsychology.

  Marina moved under him and, as he started making slow love to her all over again, a crash came from downstairs. She winced, and he rolled off of her. “Marina, really—what is the meaning of all this?”

  She sighed. “I want to show you that I can live a different life. That I can exist within a budget like a normal person. That you don’t have to be intimidated—”

  His spine stiffened and he held up a hand. “Who said I’m intimidated? This is crazy. I don’t want you to prove anything to me! I don’t want to—I don’t want to bring you down, damn it.” He got out of her bed and pulled on his jeans.

  “Then what do you want, Ben?”

  The question made him unexpectedly furious. “I don’t know!” he shouted at her, feeling like a jerk.

  “So why, in God’s name, did you come over here?” Her face had gone white, taut and angry. “Just to torture me?”

  He sighed. “I came to apologize. I shouldn’t have broken up with you in a letter. I’m sorry.” There—he’d said it. Now, why didn’t he feel better?

  The words hung in the air between them, not solving a damn thing.

  At last, she said in brittle tones, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  They stared at each other.

  Ben hated the blank, frustrated expression on her face; hated even more that he was the cause of it. It made him crazy, but he didn’t know what to do. “What the hell do you want from me?” he yelled—which only cemented her expression. He saw her shut down emotionally behind it, saw her hurt.

  She sat naked with her knees drawn up to her chest, her hands clasped over them. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders. “Just your love, Ben,” she said simply. “Just your love.” She looked away from him, her expression miserable and lost.

  He swore. He threw his hands into the air. Then he grabbed his shoes and walked out.

  I am shit.

  She was making a huge sacrifice—giving up her income, home and lifestyle. She was doing it for him. Why was he so angry instead of being grateful and touched? He didn’t want her to have to lower herself to his level, damn it.

  He drove home barefoot and shirtless, leaving the shifty, avidly curious glances of the moving men behind him. Yeah, he was total shit. But he couldn’t seem to change that. Or could he?

  6

  “THE PROBLEM,” wailed Marina to Chloe by phone, “is not a small penis thing!”

  “Yes, it is,” insisted Chloe.

  “No, I’m telling you. Now he’s mad because I’m moving to a condo for him and he doesn’t want to bring me down. Can you believe this? I can’t win! What the hell does he want?”

  “He wants to be top banana. The big, swinging dick in the relationship.”

  “Chloe, can we please move away from the phallic imagery? I think you’re a little fixated.”

  “Nope. Because what we have here is truly a case of encephallus, my highly scientific term for screwed-in-the-head. Didn’t you say that when he was just a kid, Ben’s mother left his father for a richer man?”

  “Yes. But—”

  “So he probably has an unacknowledged fear that the same thing will happen to him. Especially since he’s just lost his who
le business. He’s subliminally convinced that now you don’t respect him anymore and he has to leave you before you leave him.”

  “But that’s just stupid! I’m not going to leave him. I love him—God knows why.”

  “He’s in the process right now of forcing you to leave him because he’s left you so that you can’t leave him first.”

  “What? I’m so confused! That doesn’t make any sense at all, Chloe!”

  Her friend said cryptically, “No, but that’s penis logic for you.”

  They weren’t getting anywhere with this. “I think I need a nose job,” Marina told her. “Maybe he’ll come back if my nostrils are exactly the same diameter. I’ve noticed that the left one is slightly larger. By at least half a millimeter.”

  “Marina, stay away from the mirror. You do not need a nose job, you need a lobotomy! If you schedule any more unnecessary cosmetic procedures, I will never speak to you again.”

  “Fine,” Marina snapped. “Because I don’t understand your strange and tortured theories. anyway.”

  “They may be strange and tortured, but they’re true, babes. So let go of your nose and step away from the mirror. Go eat something fattening and call me when you’ve developed an actual butt instead of just skin stretched around your hip sockets.”

  There is nothing like a best friend to piss you off! Marina hung up scowling and remembered that once the bank transfers were done today she’d no longer have the money available to have a nose job, anyway. It would all belong to the foundation—except for one backup fund that was for emergencies only. Which reminded her…

  An hour later she was pulling up to the Reston Foundation administrative offices. She got out of the bottle-green mini Cooper she’d traded down to from the Porsche. It was adorable and she had no regrets at all—see, being poor could be great fun!

  “I need to see Liz Olmos, please,” she said to Lisa Ann, the foundation’s receptionist. “Right away. In my office.”

  She sat behind her desk and slipped off her shoes to run her feet over the mink footrest. Liz came in, looking a bit nervous. “Shut the door, please,” Marina instructed her.

  Liz gulped and shut it.

  “How are the photo sessions going? The Frameworks for the Future calendar shoots?”

  “Great!” Liz said. “Sam Delaney’s doing a fabulous job. I saw some of the contact sheets yesterday, and this thing is going to be a hit. The women will love it.”

  “You called Ben to remind him of his appointment?”

  Liz nodded. “He’ll be there.” She carefully masked her curiosity as to why Marina hadn’t called him herself. Their relationship was no secret.

  “Sit down, Liz.”

  “O-okay.”

  “How are Shelby and Jack?”

  Liz’s face lit up. “They’re doing beautifully. Shelby’s learning long division in school and Jack is playing peewee football….”

  Marina nodded and folded her hands in her lap. “I’m glad.” Then she gazed into Liz’s eyes, not surprised when her employee fidgeted and looked away. “Honey, is there something you need to tell me?”

  Liz’s face drained of all color. “Oh, God,” she whispered.

  Marina said nothing; just waited.

  “It was only going to be for a month, I swear. I couldn’t raise all of the tuition money for their school and…” Her voice broke. “Oh, God, Marina—I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Look, my CDs come due next Wednesday and I was going to take the interest and pay back the foundation. Please believe me, I only borrowed the money.” Tears began to roll down Liz’s clearly terrified face.

  Marina closed her eyes. Her instincts had been correct.

  “I swear to you, that I didn’t mean to steal it outright.”

  “Nobody ever does. It’s always just a loan at first.”

  “No, Marina—you don’t understand—I’m not like that! I just…with the mortgage and the car payment and insurance and groceries—And Wayne hasn’t sent the child-support checks for three months, now. I’m going to have to take him to court…The tuition bill came and I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

  Marina looked at her earnest, horrified face. Liz certainly didn’t get three-hundred-dollar-a-month highlights and she looked as if she’d never in her life had a facial. She’d seen her touching up her own nail polish. Her clothes were barely serviceable. All of her paychecks went to the support of her children, and she sent them to private school because they each had learning disabilities.

  “I’m sure that you want me to leave right away.” Liz rose to her feet, trembling and looking devastated. “Are you—are you going to call the police?”

  Marina slowly shook her head. How could she do that to Shelby and Jack? The father was a drunk and there was only one set of ailing grandparents who weren’t in any condition to look after them.

  “Sit down, Liz, and let’s talk.”

  Bewildered, the woman sat again.

  “I’m not going to pretend that I’m happy, but I do understand. From now on, I want you to submit the kids’ tuition bills to the foundation, okay?”

  “But—but—”

  “We’ll find a scholarship that applies. You do the paperwork.”

  Liz put her face into her hands and began to sob, her shoulders hunched and shaking. “Why are you b-being so nice to me? After what I did?”

  Marina bit her lip, found a box of tissues in her desk drawer and pushed it toward Liz. “Because, first of all, you did it for your kids and not for yourself. Second, because I’m removing your access to the foundation’s accounts, so you won’t be tempted in the future. And third, I’m taking a gamble on your character, Liz. My gut tells me that you are one of the very few people who deserve a second chance.”

  Her employee raised a blotchy, red face. “I promise you that you will not regret this. And I promise that I’ll replace every penny with interest. Today if you want—I’ll just go cash out my CDs early and pay the penalty.”

  Marina looked into her eyes and believed her. She shook her head. “Next Wednesday will be fine. But can I ask you a question?”

  Liz nodded.

  “Why didn’t you just come to me for a loan?”

  “I—couldn’t. I just couldn’t. Too much pride, I guess.” She laughed a little raggedly.

  Pride. There it was again—it wasn’t just a male thing. Poor Liz Olmos certainly didn’t have a penis. She hardly had a spine.

  “So somehow it’s better to steal than lose face?” Marina asked her gently.

  Liz winced.

  “You don’t have to answer that.” Marina thought about it. What her employee had done was wrong, but she’d maintained her autonomy—which, she supposed, was exactly what Ben was trying to do. But he didn’t have needy children to challenge his stern moral code.

  Marina knew, without question, that if she herself had a child who was starving, she wouldn’t hesitate to steal from a store to feed them. She knew that, if she had to protect that child, she wouldn’t hesitate to shoot someone who threatened him.

  No, Ben didn’t have kids—yet. But maybe he was just trying to protect the little boy he’d once been. The ten-year-old who saw his mother trade out his father for money, leaving him a broken man.

  Was Ben really one-hundred-percent motivated by pride?

  Marina gazed at the woman seated across from her, and knew that Liz hadn’t been. So it was a good bet that Ben’s issues added up to more than just tripping over his penis, as Chloe’d thought. Oh, pride was part of the problem, but it sure wasn’t all of it.

  For the first time, Marina realized that Ben might simply be afraid of being hurt. Afraid of being used by a rich, carefree, careless woman. Of being traded out for a better, more financially equipped model who could keep up with her in terms of expensive hobbies and accoutrements.

  And she wondered whether part of his discomfort with her money and her lifestyle was that, in some weird way, he didn’t feel he was worthy of it all….r />
  Marina made sure that Liz had time to collect herself before she had to face the other employees at the foundation. She accepted her apology. She fielded a few phone calls and signed off on some papers. Then she rubbed her feet up and down on the mink footrest and tapped her long French-manicured fingernails on the surface of her desk. It was long past time to take serious charge of things. In short, in pursuit of her happiness and Ben’s, she was about to get Machiavellian.

  7

  AS BEN POSED IN a tool belt for the photographer, Samantha Delaney, he felt like a piece of meat. He really didn’t want to do this, but he wouldn’t break his promise to Marina.

  “Stretch out, like that—good. Raise your arms, clasp them behind your head and give me that sleepy, let-me-light-your-fire smile again. Great!”

  She was a pixie of a girl who looked barely able to carry some of that heavy photography equipment. But she seemed competent and good at her job; not the least bit embarrassed by his semi-nudity.

  The floorboards of her upstairs studio creaked under his shifting weight as she had him get to his feet again and turn his back on her.

  “Yeah—good butt shot. Cock your hips and hook your thumbs in the tool belt. Okay, now twist and look back over your shoulder. Perfect! Whew. That’s going to be smokin’. You could be the next Diet Coke guy, Ben. No lie!”

  Sam set down her camera and went to adjust the light. “I’m going to experiment with a more film-noir look in the next few shots. Will you step into the powder room, there, and work some baby oil into your skin?”

  Oh, Christ. Now she wanted him greased up so the photos would be even more beef-cakey. Ben felt utterly foolish, and started to remove the tool belt.

  “No, no. Leave that on. And when you’re done with the oil, put on these work gloves and tuck that hammer into your waistband.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Now, what kind of message could you possibly be telegraphing with this little vignette?”

  “Why, that you’ll be happy to nail the viewer, of course.” Sam grinned unrepentantly. “We’re marketing this calendar to women, bud. And the more suggestive it is, the faster it’s gonna sell.” She tossed the work gloves at him.