“Hugh Simmons. It is a pleasure to meet you as well.” He raises his eyebrows at me. I can see the smooth operators they are, but I have no time nor desire to have my hands kissed and their smooth talking couldn't fall on worse ears than mine.
I hold my hand out to the right. “This is Brandon Howell, my assistant. He will be the one to call if you need anything.” I find a chair and sit with Brandon beside me.
“So if I need a question answered, it will be Brandon answering it in the future?” Logan asks, annoyed almost.
“Yes.” I don’t smile when I look them both in the eyes. I have dealt with this sort of bullshit my entire career. Men have no issue dealing with a pretty assistant as long as she fits the mold, but they always have an issue with the woman being the boss and the gay guy being the assistant. It drives me to a savage place. A stabby place.
“If we need to reach you?” Logan asks, narrowing his gaze.
“We sort of assumed you would be at our beck and call.” Hugh crosses his legs, tapping lightly on the arm of the chair.
“I do all the research and risk assessment. My workload for each client is lengthy and drawn out when a takeover is being contemplated. Would you rather me on the phone, twirling my hair for you or with my face stuck in a history of the company’s hidden endeavors?”
They both offer up raised brow stares each.
“I don't get paid to twirl my hair, gentlemen. I pass on the information to Brandon. He has much nicer hair and a better set of social graces than I do. He is just as informed about your company and future endeavors as I am.”
Brandon chuckles under his breath. Logan nods. “I can see we will be in very capable hands.”
I nod. “Let us hash out the details of this company you are wishing to buy, rather then worrying about the formalities of who you are going to talk to on the phone.”
Logan laughs, crossing his arms. “Fine!”
I take a deep breath, catching a whiff of his cologne. It hits me in the face, stopping me from thinking. I have smelled that before, but where?
He leans in on me at the large table as I sit down. “Do you need a hand with any of the final details?” he mutters with his hot breath on the side of my face, sending shivers down my spine.
I turn, facing him with a narrow glare, wanting to push him away but there is something about his eyes and smell that gives me déjà vu.
“No, thank you.”
Brandon and Hugh speak over the finer details as they each get a coffee. It dawns on me then Hugh is also gay and the smooth-talker thing is an act.
Logan nods at me, still laying it on fairly thick. I can tell his isn’t an act. “You want to get a drink and talk about the future?”
“I don’t date clients, thank you anyway.”
He cocks an eyebrow, offering up a smug grin. “Who said date? I meant business meeting.”
“If you have any questions or concerns, Brandon can deal with them. I will do everything I can to expedite the research and get you a list of top candidates I suspect will be close to running out of options and be prime for the picking.”
“I don’t need Brandon to deal with me,” he whispers, leaning in closer. “I was hoping we could have worked closely together.” My stomach drops.
“Mr. Bennett, it was lovely to meet you and now I have a lot of work to do, Mr. Bennett,” I say quickly, hating that I’ve just said his name twice in one sentence like a desperate idiot. He must know he’s unnerving me, even if I refuse to admit it. I stand abruptly, annoyed by his affect on me. Perhaps it’s the cologne or the heat of his body next to mine. Either way, the night before has compromised my judgment and ability to do my job with him in the room.
Brandon gives me a look but I shake my head subtly. “It was a pleasure to meet you both and I will have Brandon here finish up with the small details.”
Brandon clasps his hands together. “We have already hammered out most of the details.”
I shake Hugh’s hand, realizing how soft and manicured it is. How did I miss that the first time?
When I shake Logan’s he slips a card in between our palms. “If you change your mind about drinks, call, Hannah.” He says my name like it’s something special or just mystifies him completely.
I swallow hard, gritting my teeth at his forwardness. “Have a great day.” I turn, running from the room like a nut.
When I get back in my office I slump into the chair, wiping the sweat from my brow. I glance at the glow on my fingertips and wonder how long I was sweating and if anyone else saw it.
Brandon comes in moments later, closing the door. “What the hell was that about?” He throws his hands in the air. “What is wrong with you?”
“Oh my God, I don't know. He was throwing himself at me.”
“No, you are in heat. You have desperate divorcée written all over you.” He leans his back against the door, shaking his head. “What is going on with you? I told you to bring the bitch and you brought her sleazy sister. You were cat and mousing him all over that office.”
“I wasn't, I swear. I just—well, I did something last night and I can’t talk about it. It has me on edge, and the divorce. I don't know.” I can’t think how to explain it so I shrug. “I just should have taken a couple days off and I didn't.”
“Well, whatever it was, I hope you got laid because you are acting like a nut.” He snaps his fingers at me while pursing his duck lips.
My mouth opens but my lips don't move. He nods knowingly as I blush and look stunned. He slaps the folder down on my desk. “Hot damn, that is what I’m talking about. Miss Hannah got herself some.“ I scowl but he laughs harder. “This is the stuff I had put together for the meeting, which you just blew off. At least Hugh asked me out and I am certain Logan is still panting in the elevator. I doubt they noticed the massive blow off.” He points at me, nodding slightly. “Keep your secrets, milady, but I can smell orgasm all up in this office. Dirty bitch.” He opens the door, leaving with a nasty little grin.
I call Bec, finally responding to the hundred messages she sent while I was in that meeting.
“Morning.” I don't know what else to say. How do I explain any of it? I don't even remember everything and I’m not sure about what I do.
“Omg, how was last night?” Her voice is desperate.
“It was—fun.”
“Fun? Fun? Seriously? That's it?”
I wince, knowing it will kill her. “I signed a confidentially waver and discloser agreements. I can say I don't get how Jenny went once. I sort of want to go again. It was—fun.”
“You had fun?”
“I did, so please tell Jenny I said thank you.”
She sighs. “I fucking hate you. Fine, I will. Fuck you. Are we on for drinks later?”
“Yes! Six?”
“Okay.”
“Okay. Bye.” I hang up, biting my finger and contemplating the entire twenty-four hours.
Chapter Five
I push away all my crazy thoughts and dive into my work. I remember several companies I had been tracking and saving for a risk taker. I don't even notice I’ve finished the day when Brandon comes back in the office. He looks taken aback. “What is going on with you? Did you actually get some work done?”
I lift my gaze from the computer and nod, blinking the strain off. “Yeah. What time is it?”
“Six. Did you find anything for Logan and Hugh?”
I nod but the time picks at my brain. “What do we have on the calendar for tonight?”
He shrugs. “I have drinks with Hugh.”
“Drinks, shit!” I jump up and run for the door, grabbing my bag. “I’m late meeting Bec for drinks.”
We hurry to the elevator together. He’s glowing from the prospect of drinks with Hugh, I can see the excitement on his handsome face. “So Hugh, huh?”
He nods nervously.
“He seems pretty cool.” I add, regardless of not even noticing him beyond the smooth talking and soft hands.
�
��It’s weird ‘cause he’s a client, but I think he’s sort of Logan’s assistant, so it’s not too bad.”
I nudge him. “Just don't over think it.”
The elevator dings to the lobby and we rush out together, splitting at the door with waves.
When I get to the bar it’s packed as usual and full of nothing but the regular sausage party. Well, and Bec, who looks annoyed at my tardiness. It’s surprising she’s early. “Hey.” I sit down and sigh, leaning back in the booth she picked for us. Thank God it is not a round table in the middle of the floor. I feel like we are on display there.
“Hey,” she sighs too, passing me the drink she ordered for me. Something about her is weird.
“Oh my God, my day was crazy.” I yawn, taking a sip of my wine and notice she has a hickey on her collarbone. Her shirt is off to the side, showing it off. I point at it. “What are we nineteen? What is this?”
“Uhh well, it’s nothing.” She hangs her head, groaning. “It was a little too hot and heavy earlier this morning. I thought I put erase paste on it.” She lifts her head, narrowing her gaze. “But that's not why we’re here, is it? So you can’t talk about it at all?” She clenches her fist in frustration.
“Nope.” I shake my head. “But if you guessed stuff and I just nodded, it wouldn’t be me telling you per se.” I wink at her.
She rubs her hands together. “I see, uhhh. Okay, umm . . . did you have sex with someone?”
I shake my head no and feel the instant shame of me begging and him denying.
“Did a guy touch your vagina?” she giggles asking me that. I nod and smile. “Was he hot?”
“We wear masks, so I don’t know.” I shrug and feel my face getting hot, just thinking about him.
“Hmmmm masks, kinky. So he touched your vagina but you didn't have sexy time—also kinky.”
I nod.
“Did you O?”
I nod again, flushing.
“Are you going back?” She vibrates with excitement as she downs her vodka tonic. “Give me your cell.” She holds her hand out. I hand it to her not cluing in until it’s too late. “There, it’s done!”
“Oh my God, did you resend the text?”
She snickers with evil delight. “So was it an orgy?”
I nod, sipping again. “I don't think I need this though. I got asked out at work today. I am not as messy as everyone thinks I am.”
“Holy crap! Did you say yes?”
“No, he’s a client, Bec.”
“Who cares? If he was hot then you should have said yes.” She reaches across the table and smacks my arm and then waves to the waiter. “What’s his name?”
“Logan Bennett. I have to use the ladies’ room.” I get up, making my way through the crowd of people. I am shoved lightly by the people next to me. I sigh, turning and coming face to face with the one and only.
“Sorry about that. The guy behind me got a little overzealous.” Logan gives me a grin. “Are you following me?”
My eyes roll themselves, with flair. “Certainly not. I am having a drink with a friend. And I would never follow someone; I am not that desperate, Mr. Bennett.”
“Logan, please.” He cocks his eyebrow. “If we’re going to be partners, Logan.”
I nod. “Have a nice night.” I slip past him and make my way through to the bathroom. When I finish I go back to my table on the other side of the room, avoiding his side of the bar. I can avoid him but it seems his stare finds me even in the crowd. He lifts his glass, watching me constantly.
When I get back to the table she gives me a look. “So, why didn't you say yes to a date?”
I slump into the chair. “My ex-husband is having a baby and getting married. I went to a weird masked sex club last night and let a stranger touch me. I don't even know why I did it. I just remember feeling amazing and everything being fun, no matter the act or consequences. I don't need to add drinks with a client to my list of pretty bad shit this month has entailed.” I lift my phone out of my purse and send a quick message to the mystery number.
“Who are you texting?”
I lift my drink, grinning back at her. “I am washing my hands of the mystery fun club. I am done. I don't need to start treating sex casually just because my heart got broken and my husband never stopped dating. I got caught up in it last night but I’m good now.”
She looks disappointed but doesn't argue the fact I have never been the type of girl who throws caution to the wind.
I glance down at my drink, processing everything that has stretched into such a small amount of time. Bec boots me under the table. I lift my gaze suddenly to see the grin on her face as her eyes dart to the approaching Logan Bennett. I sigh as he reaches our table. “If you won’t join me for a drink, I decided to join you.” He pulls up a chair and sits. All of his movements are smooth and premeditated. He reaches a hand across the table at Bec. “Logan Bennett.”
She instantly beams. “Ahhh, the infamous Mr. Bennett. Rebecca Collins.”
He nods. “Lovely to meet you, Ms. Collins.” His dark-blue eyes dart to me. “Even lovelier to hear my name has been mentioned.”
I roll my eyes. Bec shimmies from the booth, giving me a knowing look. “Excuse me for a moment.”
I glare but it does nothing. She leaves us there alone.
“Look, Logan, I don't want to be rude but—”
“What happened to Mr. Bennett? I like it when you call me that.” He interrupts me, leaning closer than I am comfortable with. He reaches up, moving a piece of hair that's escaped the bun on my head. “God, you are beautiful!”
I pull back. “Stop. I’m not into the smooth-talker bullshit.” I roll my eyes again. I’m afraid that's going to be my look for the evening.
“I’m not trying to be smooth. I just want you to have one drink, so I can show you that I am a nice guy.” Something about his blue eyes is familiar. Not the shade but maybe the look in them. “I don't want you to think I’m trying to play you.”
“Well, then starting off with the ever cheesy compliment might have been a poorly planned move.”
He sighs. “Have I offended you by being attracted to you? For a confident girl you seem awfully guarded.”
I bite my lips but somehow it slips out. “I got divorced this last couple weeks and my ex is having a baby with a child. She’s much younger and she is flowy—does that make sense? She’s cool and calm and goes with the flow.”
“Everything you’re not.”
His statement stings but I nod, glad we’re finally both on the same page. “Exactly.”
His eyes sparkle as he speaks through a wry grin. “If he never saw you for what you are then he never deserved you. Finding a laid back, hipster, young girl is not hard these days. They’re everywhere. Finding a sophisticated woman who is driven and successful is much harder. Girls in their twenties who want to be taken care of, looked after, and loved because they are young and tight and beautiful are a dime a dozen. They all want a Mr. Grey of their very own. They want us to be rich and successful and mysterious. They don't realize we want the same thing in women. We want you to be successful and to know what you want in life.” He leans across the table closer, too close, but he doesn't look like he wants to kiss me. He speaks softly, brushing his words across my lips, kissing me with them. “What do you want, Hannah?”
I gulp. It’s perfectly timed but the sarcastic side of me rescues me from the moment of unplanned intimacy. “A hipster guy I can coddle and mother so he can be artistic and write me songs.”
“This is exactly why I am here at this table. I adore your flippancy.” He laughs, leaning back. The comment has broken the ice but the kiss of words still lingers upon my mouth.
I nod. “One drink and then you go away and we speak when we have to for business. Fine.”
He lifts his scotch to me. “To our business deals.”
“That I can drink to.” I sip my drink, glancing about the bar for my dear, sweet friend who has vanished. My phone doesn't
vibrate with a text from her, but I know she has left me there, alone.
He drinks slowly, staring at me in a way I don't think I understand. His instant attraction is annoying and predictable. I finish my drink off in three gulps and place it down on the table. “I am exhausted. Thank you for the drink.”
He stands, leaving his drink and holding an arm out for me. “I will escort you home. You cannot walk at this hour alone.”
I am about to argue when it dawns on me he’s right. Bec has abandoned me. I nod. “Fine.” We walk through the crowd I swear has thickened since we arrived. It’s happy hour and everyone is looking incredibly joyful. I glance back at him as we walk out. “I need to text Bec and make sure she made it home all right.”
He grins. “I assumed she had stayed on the other side of the bar. Has she gone home?”
I shrug, sending a message on my phone quickly. As soon as we are out on the cool sidewalk I receive her response. She is home and indisposed but will want details in the morning. I shake my head, putting my phone back into my purse.
“Have you lived here long?” I ask, desperate for some kind of conversation to fill the void now that we are on the street and the sounds of the crowds have diminished.
He shakes his head. “No. I was separated, like you, two years ago and came out to the city then. I moved from California.”
“All the way to New York?”
He nods, I think desperate to seem casual about it, but I can see emotion in his dark-blue eyes. “I needed a fresh start.”
He no longer seems smooth. I like this side of him better. “When did you take up mergers and acquisitions?”
His smile comes back and he’s instantly charming. “I have always been in this line of work. My father owned a small printing press when I was in college. I started investing my gambling winnings and got lucky with my portfolio and when my father’s business got into trouble I purchased it from him.” He looks up into the night sky, taking a deep inhale. “I loved the feel of taking something someone took only so far and making it better. A year later I sold it for twice what I paid.” He grins like he’s a schoolboy gloating over a football match.
The Club Page 4