I considered biting him, but he pulled away too fast.
“I’m beginning to see why he’s so taken with you.”
The harder I struggled, the tighter he squeezed until I gasped for air. I tried to scream but only a strangled cry came out. My chest hurt from the panic gripping my heart.
“Eva?” Brent shouted from beyond the door. “I thought I told you to stay put?”
Richard released me and smiled, a shudder visibly coursing through him. He turned my face and licked my ear while I squirmed. “God, I could come just by tasting you.” His fingers squeezed my throat tighter, and he thrust his hips forward, pressing his rock hard state against my leg. “Give Benjamin a message for me. If he doesn’t sign over what’s rightfully mine by next Friday, as in nine days from today, I won’t be such a gentleman the next time I pay you a visit.”
My breath huffed out in ragged bursts as he backed up and pulled open the door. “Be seeing you.” He blew me a kiss before he departed. What. A. Psycho.
The shaking in my hands spread to the rest of my body. The deafening sound of my blood rushing through my head gave me a headache. No wonder Ben was afraid of him. What could he have that would make Richard have to embezzle it out of him? The family fortune? The company? A momento of some kind? Not that Richard seemed the memento-coveting sort, but who knew?
At Brent’s yelp, I froze. I hadn’t had a friend in years. No girlfriends, nobody I cared to hang out with for more than five minutes and didn’t feel like smacking in the face every time they opened their mouths. No matter how afraid I was, I wouldn’t let Richard hurt him. I embraced my own flood of adrenaline and bolted into the hall.
“There’s my little fruit pie.” Richard hovered over a cowering Brent, pinching the muscle on his shoulder until he cried out. “Be sure to let your boss know you saw me here. You know the consequences if you fail.”
“Get away from him!” I pushed myself between them and faced Richard. “You stay away from him or you’ll be dealing with me.”
Eyes wide with surprise, Richard tipped his head back and laughed. “So tenacious. No wonder my brother can’t resist you.” He leaned in close, caressed my collarbone with the backs of his fingers.
I didn’t flinch, just held my ground and glared back at him.
“The ones who fight the hardest are always the most exciting.” His tongue smoothed moisture across his lips. “I can’t wait to break you.”
My stomach curdled. Barfing in his face would have been satisfying, but it wouldn’t arrive.
After reaching past me to pat Brent on the cheek, Richard sauntered off down the hall with light steps.
Whimpers drew my attention back to Brent. He hugged himself, shaking, tiny tears dripping from the corners of his eyes.
I wrapped my arms around him and rubbed his back until he calmed. “He’s gone. You’re okay now.”
Brent shook his head, his blond hair swishing across his brow. “No, I’m not okay. He knows where I live.” Lips pursed, he stepped away and cast wide, shining eyes at me. “You shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what he wants with you, but whatever it is, fighting him only makes it worse. Trust me. I know.”
Shocked at the idea that Richard had hurt the funny man before me, I ushered him into one of the fitting room stalls and eased him down on the bench while I knelt in front of him. “What did he do to you, Brent?”
“I can’t.” A tremor rolled through him. “He’d k-kill me. And I’m not exaggerating … like, at all.”
I cradled his hands in mine. “Have you told Mr. Hathaway?”
He shook his head, sinking even farther into the image of a frightened little boy. “He doesn’t give a flying fancy fuck about other people’s problems, Eva, and especially not mine. Besides, the way he avoids his brother, I think maybe he’s just as afraid of Richard as I am.”
I didn’t think Ben would have appreciated me spreading confirmation of that little tidbit around, so I kept my mouth shut. “Let me talk to Mr. Hathaway about it. We’ll call the police, get a restraining order, whatever we can. I promise you I’ll stop him from harassing you somehow.”
“He’s a Hathaway, Eva. The cops won’t do anything, but thanks for the thought.” Brent managed a weak smile. “I think you need to be more worried about yourself right now. I don’t even want to know what he said to you. The guy already gives me nightmares.”
I clenched my teeth, heat burning through my flesh, a fury from deep inside me. Bullies were bad enough, but bullies with means were dangerous.
Questions swirled around in my head as Richard’s words surfaced.
I sat on the bench next to Brent and pulled him against me. “Has Mr. Hathaway ever dated before? I got the impression that he’d never had much to do with women, but Richard said something…”
“I’ve only ever seen him with one woman before, about eight years ago, right when I started working for him. Mr. Hathaway’s father had only been gone a year or two.” Shifting closer, he crossed his legs, the top one bouncing with nervousness. “He was different then. He treated everyone like people instead of dogs, took me out to lunch once in a while to say thanks. Then one day, Richard blew into town and everything went to hell.”
“And?”
Brent sprang up and pulled open the door. “I can’t.”
I followed him out. “Does that day have something to do with why you’re so afraid of Richard? Did he do something to Mr. Hathaway’s girlfriend? Is that the real reason he shut himself away? So Richard wouldn’t have anyone to use against him for whatever it is he wants?”
“No.” In a childlike fashion, Brent put his hands over his ears. “No, no, no! I can’t!”
My shoulders slumped, and I thought myself out of unloading another deluge of questions on him. “Look, I’m sorry. I won’t ask again.” I touched his arm until he looked at me. “Just forget it for now, okay? I won’t let that fucktard ruin our evening. Now where are those perfect shoes you found for me?”
Brent gave a little laugh and wiped away his tears. “Why aren’t you afraid of him? Just the sight of him always makes me want to pee my Lululemons.”
After my burst of laughter dwindled, I sighed through a grin. “I am afraid of him, Brent. He terrifies me, in fact. But I’m so fucking tired of bullheaded pricks it makes me sick. If I can’t go through the law, there’s more than one way to bring down a giant.”
I remembered how scared and broken Ben looked after Richard had left that day, as if the very sight of his brother had evoked the sort of memory assaults I often endured. What did he see when his past haunted him? What had broken his heart so completely he’d cut himself off from human contact? If I could find a way to take the fear out of his eyes, it didn’t matter how afraid I was, I’d do it.
“I’ll talk to Ben and we’ll figure it out.”
Brent gaped at me, raised an eyebrow. “Ben? You just called him Ben.” A slow smile grew across his face. “You’ve got a bigger thing for him than you let on, don’t you?”
I snatched the shoebox from the floor at Brent’s feet and went back to the mirror at the end of the hallway. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. So he lets me call him Ben.” My shoulders heaved up in a shrug. “What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is we definitely need to work on your underwear situation.”
Chapter 11
Thursday and Friday passed by in a blur without any sign of Ben’s evil twin. The security cameras I’d quoted for Ben had arrived so I busied myself installing them to keep my mind off our date later and what to do about Richard.
Brent and I sat in his car outside work at a quarter to seven Friday evening. I fidgeted with my new haircut, the long bangs sweeping across my brow, the rest Brent had dried over a big, round brush. He’d primped and polished me for an hour and a half at his place, including some light makeup—which I never wore—painted my nails with French tips, even dabbed some perfume behind my ears.
Turning in the seat, he hand
ed me a black beaded clutch. “He’s not going to know what hit him.”
I tried not to grin but my lips twitched, anyway. “I bet he won’t even flinch.”
“You’re so on. Twenty bucks says you’ll render him speechless.” Eyes shining with laughter, Brent held his hand out to me.
I grabbed it and shook. “An easy twenty. Make sure you have it on you Monday.” Squeezed by emotion, I pulled him close and hugged him. “Thanks for this, the dress, the makeup. I actually feel like a girl for once.”
“Ah, it was so much fun.” He squeezed me and whispered into my ear. “I’ll put up fifty that you’ll be out of that dress before ten o’clock.”
Snorting, I shoved him back. “You’re so bad. I told you, I’m not—”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re a terrible liar, so I’ll know.” He beamed and flicked his fingers at me. “Now get going. You know he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
With a sigh, I climbed out of the car, wobbled for a moment on the stupid heels before I turned and waved at Brent as he drove away. Just spending five minutes with that cute-as-a-button man could make all the stresses in my world disappear. Someone should bottle and sell him as an antidepressant medication, make it so every single person would know what it felt like to smile as large as he did.
The stairs up to Hathaway Pharmaceuticals stretched before me like the foothills of a mountain. I took slow steps until I got used to my sea legs. I’d never thought of my legs as nice or particularly long, but the little strappy black shoes transformed them, made them appear shapelier.
I managed to make it to the top and through the doors without tripping and falling on my face. Small miracles. While I waited for the elevator, my heart fluttering beneath my ribs like a hyped up bird, my handbag rang. I jumped and fumbled to open the clutch.
My heart fell when my hand wrapped around the vibrating BlackBerry among the makeup and extra pair of panties Brent had insisted I take. For why, I had no idea. Mine weren’t going anywhere. Part of me had hoped it was the red iPhone, which had mysteriously landed back on my desk Thursday morning. Ben had sent me texts every few hours in the previous two days, some cute, others that brought a blush to my cheeks, and at least a half-dozen reminders of the time of our date. Persistent bastard.
When I looked at the screen, my shoulders slumped. Mom had called me several times since our visit, but I wasn’t ready to talk to her. I didn’t know what to say, and I couldn’t think about it right then, not with Ben waiting upstairs for me. My faculties and willpower needed to be in prime working order or I would be so screwed.
I paced in front of Mr. Hathaway’s door to calm my frayed nerves, smoothing my hands along the silk dress. As Brent had instructed, I applied a little more of the pink gloss he’d put in my bag and smacked my lips together a few times. My shaking hand reached for the doorknob a few times before I backed up and took a deep breath. The top of my hose bunched against my thighs—I’d never worn garters and hose, and it touched me in places I wasn’t used to being touched. I didn’t understand women who wore that sort of clothing every day. Lingerie should come with warning tags: must be a contortionist to wear this. I hiked up my skirt, bent down, and fiddled with the lacy tops until it laid flat against my thigh.
A small sound drew my gaze up. Ben stood in the doorway, eyes wide, lips parted. He wore a dark blue dress shirt with the cuffs rolled up over his magnificent forearms and the top few buttons undone, allowing a tiny glimpse of his chest.
My breath caught in my throat as I straightened so fast my spine cracked. Embarrassed, I smoothed my skirt back into place. The harder he stared at my face, the warmer my skin grew. I dropped my stare, shifted my feet, and held a hand to my stomach. “Don’t-don’t you like it?”
Another few moments of silence passed before he blew out a breath and chuckled the dark way men sometimes did when admiring the view.
“Say something, Ben. Please.” I rubbed my burning cheeks, tried and failed to keep from smiling. “If you don’t, I’ll owe Brent twenty bucks.”
Ben uttered a bright laugh. He came to stand in front of me, pushed my hair behind my ear and lifted my chin, leaving a wake of tingles in the path of his touch. His gaze locked on to mine, a smile reflected in their depths. “Words escape me at the moment. Your eyes have always been striking, but in that dress, they are simply mesmerizing.”
“If you say so.” I played my fingers along the embroidery on my skirt. “I mean, thanks.” Funny, I’d expected him to be caught by my overflowing boobs, not my eyes. The guy was weird.
He placed a gentle kiss on my cheek and offered me his arm. “Shall we go in?”
I hesitated, my hands shaking. “Why am I so nervous right now while you’re all Mr. Suave? We’re just going to have dinner. God, what’s the matter with me?”
Christ! Stupid, chatty mouth.
Ben took my hand and placed it on his chest. My stare got lost in his as his heart thumped a rapid tune against my hand. “Don’t be fooled by what you see.”
Little flutters spread through my chest.
As he intertwined his fingers with mine, he led me into his office. I stumbled along beside him, a little drunk on the endorphins raging up my arm. I couldn’t believe he was as freaked out as I was. With his Greek statue looks and deep voice, he could have had anyone he wanted. So why did I make him nervous?
After seeing Ben appear lighter and more approachable than I’d ever seen him, the thought of telling him about his brother knocked the wind out of me. It brought me back into my head long enough for me to walk up the stairs without tripping.
Ben opened the door to his apartment. The scent of ripe tomatoes and fresh herbs encompassed me. Hinder’s “Lips of an Angel” played on the stereo.
I inhaled, eased my hand out of his so I could think well enough to speak. “What is that? It smells amazing.”
“Knowing your aversion to exotic cuisine, I decided to make spaghetti, my grandmother’s secret recipe.” He flashed a heart-stopping smile. “I thought it was normal enough not to scare you away.”
Stunned, my brow crinkled. “You mean you cooked it yourself? Like, from scratch? You chopped and stirred? No jars or cans?”
He nodded, one of pure pride. “I can teach you how if you like.”
“I don’t think so.” I held up my hand. “I can barely make toast without burning the house down. The stove and I don’t get along so well.”
With a little laugh, Ben gestured to a wooden bar next to the kitchen. Crystal glasses hung on brass rails along the top. “Would you like a glass of wine? I have a nice Shiraz.”
“Uh—sure. I have no idea what a Shiraz is, but I’ll have a small glass. I don’t drink much.”
After pouring two glasses of red wine from a decanter on the bar, he handed me one, brushing his fingertips along my wrist as he did.
I shivered and tossed my bag onto a soft chair before it could drop from my hand and spill my goodies all over his hardwood. He might get the wrong idea if he saw the extra undies I’d stowed in there. Not to mention the condom. Jeez, I was gonna kill Brent if Ben saw that!
“To new friendships and possibilities.” His expression peaceful, Ben held up his glass.
I clinked mine against his and took a sip of the fruity wine. Warmth spread down my throat and into my stomach. “Is that what we are, Ben? Friends?” Damn. Even I caught the disappointment in my voice.
Some heavy emotion invaded his features as he took a step closer and set his glass on a bookshelf behind me. His eyes seemed to darken as his gaze fixed on mine. “I think you know we’re more than that, but I’m trying very hard not to say anything to frighten you.”
I swallowed, put my hand over my frantic heart, and stepped back. “You know I don’t date.”
His lip twitched. “So you keep saying, yet here you are with me, looking stunning in that dress and a new hairstyle. And if you don’t enjoy my company, then why is your skin flushed?” He brushed the backs of his fingers along my cheek. “B
eautiful.”
My breath shuddered, and I leaned back against the bookcase for balance before I toppled over. “You’re not playing fair, Ben.”
“Who said anything about playing fair?” He turned and started for the kitchen. “Are you hungry?”
I stared after him, expecting Dr. Jekyll to vanish any moment and Mr. Hyde to appear again and rip my face off with one insult or another. “Sure.” Though I had no idea how I’d fit any food in my stomach with the herds of butterflies partying in there.
“After supper I’ll give you that tour I promised.”
Wearing a ridiculous grin that bunched up my cheeks, I took my wine and sat on a stool at the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. Ben chopped garlic, tomato, and onion with a knife big enough to fillet an elephant. Shredded herbs. Mixed oils with stuff I had no name for. He topped a half loaf of bread with the concoction and drizzled it with the oil before he shoved the whole thing into the oven. I couldn’t take my gaze off him, the way he moved, like a graceful dance. The suggestiveness I found in his movements transfixed me, summoned warmth into places that had been dormant for years before meeting him. I didn’t know if his enticement was intentional or just a natural talent. Possibly just my neglected libido finding a buffet before me and rearing its hungry head. His dark curls shifted as he turned and bent down. My fingers twitched at the thought of trailing them through the soft strands.
I shook myself at my utter lack of self-control. “So … are you Italian? You said it was your grandmother’s recipe.”
He nodded, wiping his hands on a towel. “My mother is Italian and my father was American. It was my grandmother who taught me to cook, though. She died a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry. Were you very close to her?”
“She was the only person in my family who could make me laugh, so yes, we were close.” A sad smile arched his full lips as he leaned an elbow on the counter beside me. “You remind me how to laugh, Evangeline.”
Crossing Hathaway Page 10