Crossing Hathaway (16 page)

“Mmm. I know exactly what you mean.” Ben held me closer. “So you’ll stay?”

“I’ve never actually slept with anyone before. Here’s hoping I don’t do anything embarrassing in my sleep.” I pushed up to look at him. “Cam can’t know about this, though. Nobody can know. And we can’t do anything but work during business hours.”

Sadness filled his eyes. “Are you ashamed to be seen with me?”

“No.” I stroked his chin with my thumb. “It’s just…” I sighed. “My dad accused me of offering you sexual favors to get this job. Even though I know it’s not true, I can’t handle any rumors that might confirm that in anyone’s mind. And I don’t like what I’d become if we had sex while you were paying me to work.”

He nodded, the tightness around his eyes easing. “That was a terrible thing for him to say. I’m sorry. We’ll work it out tomorrow. Tell me the rules, and I’ll be your humble servant.”

I gnawed my lower lip, considering the possibilities. “I like the sound of that.”

Ben’s phone rang somewhere beyond the door. He pressed his lips to mine and tipped me to the side before he got up. The movement of his adorable ass stole my attention and left me to stare after him as he walked out.

While I waited, I explored the hallway, flipping on lights to find the bathroom. When I peered into the last doorway, the largest bathroom I’d ever seen spread out before me, done in beige Italian tiles and a black granite countertop. A whirlpool tub beckoned from the middle of the floor with room enough for a ten-person orgy. At the far end, a glass wall separated the giant shower stall from the rest of the room. Not bad, Mr. Hathaway. The man had taste.

A wet cloth erased the remnants of our sticky dessert from my skin. On my way back to where I thought Ben might be, I stopped in the den and donned his dress shirt before wandering down the hall to his living room.

Ben slumped in the leather chair by the fireplace, cell pressed to his ear. He stared at the floor with a giant crease across his forehead. “No—this isn’t a good time, Mother—he did?” His eyes rolled up to me. “Yes, she’s here—because I just met her myself.” Ben flumped back in his chair and gestured with his hand. “You know how I feel about him coming—no—but—why?” He growled and sat back up. “Okay, fine. Tomorrow, one o’clock.”

With a flick of his wrist, the phone flipped onto the sofa. Ben propped his elbows on his knees and hung his head, his hair falling down to obscure his expression.

“Let me guess,” I said. “That had something to do with Richard.”

“Your mother wants to meet me?” I rubbed my temples, nowhere near reaching the headache that had begun drumming on my skull. “Fucking Richard. What the hell is he up to?” A few more curses slipped out as I paced in front of Ben’s fireplace. “Does it have to be tomorrow? I don’t even have anything clean to wear.”

“We’ll talk about it in the morning.” Ben stood and rolled his shoulders and then held his hand out to me.

An internal sigh gripped me as I acknowledged that beautiful hunk of a stud wanted me. Me! Whatever Richard wanted didn’t matter, and if he tried to hurt my man, I’d feed him his nuts. I slid my fingers into Ben’s, marveling at the size and strength of his hand, and followed him down the hall to the bathroom. While he washed, I lingered in the doorway of the bathroom, watching in awe as he stroked a cloth over his beautiful landscape. When he finished, we crossed the hall to his bedroom. Ben turned the light on over the largest four-poster bed I’d ever seen. The dark blue walls displayed black and white photos of buildings from all over the city. Tasteful and utterly masculine, just like him.

With a yawn, he sat on the bed and stretched his arms up.

I took in every inch of him, and a mental shake helped me roll my tongue up off the floor. “I thought we were just going to—”

“Sleep, yes.” He smirked, and climbed under the white duvet. His dark curls spilled over the pillow like a smear of chocolate I wanted to roll in like a playful cat.

I sighed, slipped off the shirt, and climbed in after him. No point in being prudish after what we’d done.

Wrapped in his arms and cuddled in the fluff of blankets, sleep sucked at me. I buried my face in his throat and smoothed my hand across his waist. “Now that I have … you know … an
in
with the boss, can I pull one favor?”

His quiet laughter bounced the bed. “Name anything and it’s yours.”

“In that case, can you please be nicer to Brent? He’s been a really good friend to me, and you have him to thank for my getup tonight.”

Silence for a moment. “If it’s important to you, then I’ll try.” His fingers stroked my arm.

Try? I supposed that was better than “mind-your-own-damn-business.” I could deal with try. “Thank you.” Warm and happy, I snuggled down into the bed.

He kissed my shoulder. “Good night, Evangeline.”

Something wet pressed against my forearm, ripping me out of that serene place between sleep and awake. I patted sweat-soaked hair, which was plastered across my forehead, and a clump lay across my cheek.
Gross.

I opened my eyes to a dim room and stared at a white ceiling unmarred by water stains. Uh …
where the hell am I?

“Good morning, sleepy.”

Cranking my head left, I centered on a smiling, sleep-tousled Ben. He lounged beside me in a pair of boxers, propped up on his crooked elbow. Mouth gaped open with no words coming from my shocked brain to fill it, I ogled him from head to toe.

His stomach muscles bunched up as he rolled himself closer and plucked a clump of hair from my brow. “Did you sleep well?”

I tore my stare away from his shorts and noticed the amusement in his eyes. “Mmm, yeah. You?” When I shifted to sit up, I remembered how little I wore and pulled the duvet up to my chin.

Appearing as relaxed and contented as I’d ever seen him, he nodded. “Never better.”

“What time is it?”

“Eight thirty.”

“What?” I pressed my palms against my sleepy eyes and settled back on the pillow. “I haven’t slept in that late since I was a teenager.”

Ben chuckled, grasped my hand, and brought it to his lips. His brow jacked up. “It must have been the tiramisu.”

An idiotic giggle burst out of me. “Yeah, it must have been the cake. Riiight.” My gaze scanned the length of him. “Why are you wearing shorts? I could have sworn you were butt-ass naked when you went to bed.”

“I woke up a while ago, and I didn’t want you to wake in a strange place alone, so I brought my laptop in here and got some work done while you slept.” His fingers stroked my arm and a deep contentment filled his gaze. “I loved watching you sleep with your hair spread over my pillow.”

The sight of his sexy mess of hair, the languid grace of his movements made me sigh. “It’s so not fair. How do you wake up looking better than when you went to bed, and I feel like something the cat puked up then dragged across the lawn?”

He belted out a bright laugh that set him aglow. The affect radiated to me and induced my own.

“If only you could see yourself through my eyes, you wouldn’t say such silly things.” His lips pressed against my cheek just below my eye, trailed up, over my brow to my temple and ignited the furnace between my legs. “We need to get up and started on the meal for Mother’s visit. Knowing my brother, they could show up any time.”

Palms to my forehead, I shifted farther into the covers. “Damn. I’d forgotten about that. Way to kill the mood, Ben.”

“We’re making what now?” Wearing only my spare pair of panties—thank you Brent—and one of Ben’s dress shirts with the sleeves rolled up, I leaned my butt against the kitchen counter and narrowed my eyes. “What the heck is nee-okee?”

With a snicker, he plunked a giant bag of potatoes on the counter. “It’s gnocchi.” He went on to spell it for me. “And it’s a sort of potato dumpling you serve with sauce, like pasta. It’s delicious.”

I slid along the counter toward him, twirled one of his curls in my finger. “Let me guess, another of Grandma’s secret recipes?”

Beaming, he nodded. “One of her very best, and my favorite. I’ll teach you how.”

“Well, I suppose I can probably boil the water without burning it.” A memory from the last time I’d used the stove at my apartment filled my senses with black smoke. I coughed out a laugh. “On second thought, maybe I’ll just watch.”

Ben nipped my ear as he slid something into my hand. “Nonsense.”

When he turned and emptied some of the potatoes into the sink, I stared at what he’d put in my fingers. “A peeler?” I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, okay. I suppose I can handle that.”

Once the peeled potatoes made it into the steamer, we turned to the salad. I washed stalks of celery and took them to his cutting block where he waited with a chef’s knife, one side of his lips tugging up. “Are you ready?”

I sighed. “Maybe you should do the cutting, what with you being squeamish with blood and all.”

Clearly undeterred, he crooked his finger at me. “Come.”

I stood in front of the cutting board with a stalk of celery in my left hand. Ben stood behind me, his body pressed against my back as he positioned the knife in my right hand and tipped the blade up and down as we chopped.

His scent swirled around me, masculine spice, heady and delicious. I twisted so I could nuzzle his throat, my nose pressed against his pulse.

“Evangeline.” His tone suggested it wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get my attention.

I blinked and straightened, focusing on his hands clamping mine to the knife. “Yeah?”

He snickered. “You must watch if you’re to learn.”

“Mmm … right. Chopping.” I exhaled and rolled my shoulders. To make myself focus, I summoned a memory of Richard. That cleared my head of lust in an instant, and it also dropped a sudden ball of panic into my stomach.

Ben put the knife aside and turned me to look at him. “Your muscles just hardened to wood. What’s wrong?”

I stared at him for a few seconds before I realized what bothered me. “This is all happening too fast, Ben.” I palmed my forehead and paced, counting off issues on my fingers. “Yesterday I swore I wouldn’t date. In the span of twenty-four hours, I’ve slept with my boss, spent the night in your bed, and now I’m about to meet your fucking mother? I’m not ready for this!”

He took my hand and pulled me toward him. “I’m sorry.” Warm fingers caressed my brow. “I never meant to rush you, nor do I like the idea of allowing my brother near you. I don’t blame you if you want to leave.”

I studied his eyes and found nothing but a shadow of sadness there. My panic turned to an acidic pool of guilt. With a sigh, I slid my arms around his neck while he pressed hands into my back. “No, I don’t want to leave. Just don’t abandon me with them.” My hands slid down his chest. “And I’d like to slow things down a bit after today.” A giggle burst out of me. “I’m not saying no sex, just don’t do anything to freak me out, okay? No sappy confessions, no romantic mumbo-jumbo, no three words that most people say and don’t mean, no roses filling the IT department.”

His lips pressed to mine, soft, gentle. There was a promise in that kiss. “Deal.”

After Ben finished with the meal preparations, we dressed for lunch with Mommy Dearest and the evil twin. I stood in front of his mirror wearing a red skirt suit with a conservative white silk shirt underneath.

“Where did you get this suit? It’s beautiful.” I turned to the side to see how the black strappy heels looked.

“I own a few boutiques in the Eaton Centre, so I arranged for a few items to be delivered this morning.” Ben stood behind me, dipping fingertips beneath my collar as he straightened it. “They chose well.”

When the shudder from his touch passed, a silly smile perked up my lips. I wondered if he owned Illiana’s, the one Brent had taken me to. “Just give me the bill so I can have HR take the cost out of my paycheck next week.”

His eyebrow shot up. He opened his mouth but a buzzer sounded out in the living room. He grinned. “Saved by the bell.”

Shoulders slumped, I followed Ben down the hall toward the door that exited into his office. Nerves twitched in my guts.
Here we go.

The buzzer for Ben’s front door rang again.

He stopped with his hand on the knob. A knock came on the other side, and still he didn’t move.

I leaned around him and peered at his profile. “Ben?”

His gaze darted to me for only a second, but I still caught the apprehension casting shadows in their depths. “Stay close to me, Evangeline.”

Before I could ask him what the flaming hell he meant by that, he pulled open the door.

Two faces stared in. One scowling and one grinning his usual Cheshire cat grin. The sour face belonged to a tall woman with long, dark hair pulled into a tight ponytail on the crown of her head. Her muddy brown eyes surveyed me from hair to toes, and her disdain didn’t ease for a moment as she strode past Ben and me, arm linked through Richard’s.

“Where’s my wine, Benjamin?” She tossed her black handbag onto the sofa and whirled to face us again, adjusting the red silk blouse to lay flat against her gray pencil skirt. “And you haven’t introduced me to your,” lip twitching, she scanned me again, “friend.”

My brows bunched together before I could stop them. At least I managed to keep my trap shut so I didn’t tell her to shove it up that scrawny ass of hers. I glanced at Ben, who stood like stone beside me, his stare all for Richard who lounged against the back of the sofa in his black suit.

“Benjamin!” His mother’s voice cracked like a whip.

Ben’s attention snapped to her. He nodded and took me by the hand. “Mother, this is Evangeline Ross, my girlfriend.” A possessive lilt emphasized the word “my.”

Normally, his tone of ownership and his assumption that we were a sure and steady item would have pissed me off, but in the face of those two, it gave me a sense of security.

I thrust my hand out. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Hathaway.”

Her gaze dropped to my hand, inspected it for a moment before reaching out French-manicured fingertips to grasp mine. She met my gaze with a glare while she squeezed tight enough that it would have hurt if I didn’t have a strong grip of my own. Only when her brow furrowed under my strength, did I release her. Take that, you nasty piece of work.