Driven (8 page)

I’m dumbfounded.
No way
. This is not happening. Words I’d love to say to him, to call him, run through my head as I seethe with anger.

“Is there something the matter, Rylee?” Teddy questions, breaking through my haze of frustration. “I think it’s a brilliant idea.” I turn my head to him, opening my mouth to respond him but nothing comes out. “If Colton’s willing to use his name, his
connections
, and popularity by standing beside you at a press filled event to get the word out about Corporate Cares, then—”

“Why not take advantage of it?” Colton finishes for him, a smug smile gracing his face.

I’m starting to feel light-headed, my head spinning from the turn of events. From the only conclusion I can draw, a situation that Colton has designed and mandated just to get his way. I place my hand on the table to brace myself as I slowly sink into the chair, my eyes focusing on an imaginary spot on the papers in front of me.

“Ry? You okay?” Teddy asks concerned.

“Huh?” I raise my head up to meet his empathetic eyes.

“You look a little flushed. Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah. Yes.” I answer taking a deep breath. “I’m just—it was a long shift. That’s all,” I conclude, gathering myself.
It’s a means to an end
, I remind myself. “Sorry,” I apologize to both men. “I’m just overwhelmed that the new project is going to be a reality.” Colton sits silently, analyzing me. I shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

“Look, Rylee,” Teddy addresses me, “I know you have a lot on your plate right now and this is just adding to it, but it’s so close now we can taste it. There is no one I’d rather have be the face of this organization right now. You’re the one, kiddo.”

His high praise warms me despite the panic I feel at being trapped. Being forced into a situation that I know will be beneficial for Corporate Cares but no doubt devastating for me.

Teddy glances at his watch and reaches over to pat my hand, “I have a conference call in five minutes.” He rises from his seat as does Colton. “I trust that I can leave you two in here to fine tune the remaining details.”

He reaches his hand out to Colton sealing the agreement with a handshake. “Thank you, Colton, for your unexpected generosity. You have no idea how many lives you are helping to change with this gift.”

An unexplained darkness flickers across Colton’s face. “I understand more than most people might think,” he expresses without explaining further before releasing Teddy’s hand. “Thank you for your warm reception to the idea. My lawyer will be contacting you in the morning to draw up the paperwork.”

With that Teddy nods his head and exits the conference room. I stand watching the empty doorway, my back toward Colton as I contemplate my next move.

I’m overwhelmed by his generosity. At his attempt to make
my dreams
come true, so why can I not feel gratitude toward him? Why do I just want to turn around and throttle him? I mull it over quickly, knowing that I hate having my hand forced in anything. It’s not that I have to be in control—well, maybe just a little bit. But at least I want to be the one making the choices where I’m concerned. Not treated like some compliant woman who submits without question to decisions she is forced to follow.

Why does he irritate me so much? Is it because every time I look at his lips or watch his fingers rub over his jaw, my body tightens in anticipation of how they felt on me? Or is it because I can hear his rasp of a voice in my dreams telling me how much he wants me?
Shit
! My life was perfectly fine until last weekend. And then I meet him, and now I’m a flustered mess.

I shouldn’t care that he was making out and doing God knows what with Bailey, but I do. I’m embarrassed that he probably thinks I let any guy I meet put his hands on me. I’m irritated that I know the only reason for his pursuit is because I’m not falling for his smooth lines and eloquent bullshit. I’m confused why a man who is like a Pied Piper to women much prettier, sexier, everything than me, is even glancing twice in my direction.

My life is not some Hollywood romance movie where boring girl meets famous boy and they fall madly in love together. I’m not naïve enough to believe that this is going to happen to me.

And then to further confuse things is my feelings for Max. My commitment to him and my culpability. The feeling of guilt as to why, despite my expressed love for him, I never felt as alive in all my times with him as I did in the few moments I’ve had with Colton. How can I feel so vibrant with someone I barely know when I didn’t with the man I loved?

I sigh loudly, my body attuned to the proximity of his.

He chuckles, fueling my irritation as I turn to face him. He is leaning back in his chair, an ankle resting on the opposing knee, his arms causally resting on the armrests. We stare at each other, observing and scrutinizing each other for the first time without bystanders. His eyes lazily wander the length of my body, hesitating at my cleavage. I watch his smile widen in what I can assume is an appreciation of the feminine form in general, not just mine, before they travel down the rest of my curves.

His beauty really is magnificent, although I’m sure he would disagree with my term. Thick, dark lashes that are a stark contrast to their translucent color frame his green eyes. His strong nose has a slight curve to its line, where at some point it has been broken or damaged. The imperfection in an otherwise perfect face adds to his overwhelming sex appeal. I take in his full lips, the top one slightly thinner than the lower, the darkened stubble that shadows his face, and the pulse that beats steadily under the curve of his jaw. I have the sudden urge to kiss him right there and nuzzle into him, to feel the pulse of this vibrant man beneath my lips. To be enveloped in his clean, earthy scent.

I shake my head, trying to bring some sense to myself. He quirks his eyebrows and waits for me to make the first move. We stare for several moments as we measure each other. I finally break the silence. “Is this what you call taking matters in to your own hands?”

“What’s the matter? Can’t handle the temptation, Ryles?” He flashes a wicked, arrogant grin at me, and as much as I want to roll my eyes at him, the temptation before me is all I can think about.

“Hardly,” I snort.

He shrugs indifferently. “A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, Ry,” he says. “You left me no choice.”

“No choice? Really?” I scoff throwing my hands up in disgust. “What are you, fifteen years old throwing a tantrum because you didn’t get your way?”

“You owe me a date.”

“All this for a frickin’ date, Ace? Or is it because I denied your sexual ministrations after I came to my senses?” Ugh, he is so frustrating!

“
Oh, you would’ve come all right
,” he rebuts sardonically, raising an eyebrow, “and from what I recall, your senses? Those were strewn all over the backstage floor.”

Smartass! How can he get me so fuming mad when it takes so much more to get me to this point with other people?

“So because I said no, you offer up tons of money and bind me with a contract through my work? Through my boss? Forcing me to
have
to spend time with you? Money in exchange for a date? I’m not a
whore
, Colton.” I rant, waltzing to the window trying to diffuse some of my angst. “Especially not
yours
!”

I can hear him shuffling behind me as he rises and walks toward the window. He looks at me through his reflection in the glass window and holds my stare. My body vibrates from his nearness.

“Let’s get something straight,” he growls at me. “First of all, I have my own reasons for donating the money that have absolutely nothing to do with you. Nothing! Second, I don’t
ever
pay for dates, Rylee.
Ever
. I have more class than that.” I can feel his fury roll off him in waves.

“You paid for a date with me,” I retort.

“Charity. Auction. Does. Not. Equal. Escort. Service.” He snarls at me, taking a step closer, but never breaking our reflective stare. “Lastly,” he seethes, grabbing hold of my arm to emphasize his point, “I don’t ever want to hear your refer to yourself as a
whore
again.”

We stand in silence as his words settle around us. Why the hell does he care what I call myself? He has no claim over me. I know better than to provoke when someone is angry, but I can’t help myself. For some reason I want to push his buttons. If I’m going to be forced to do something, then I might as well say my piece.

“Then why the contract? The events that I’m required to be your
escort
for.” I yank my arm out of his grip. “Sounds like your ego is bruised because I won’t succumb to your dazzling charm, so you need to tie me to you to prove to yourself that you still have that magic
Colton touch
. That you haven’t lost it—”

“I didn’t say anything about bondage,” he smirks, cutting me off. “But if that’s your thing, Rylee, I’d be more than happy to oblige. I can teach you
the ropes
.”

I shake my head in disbelief; the meaning of his words as they sink in has blood rushing to my cheeks, before I can meet his eyes in the glass again. “I’m ignoring your last comment,” I say dryly, trying to recall what my point was since he has scattered my thoughts so cleverly.
Um—where was I? Oh!
“Your ego’s bruised because I won’t fall helplessly at your feet and become your compliant sexual plaything, so you come to my work—take the one thing that I really want, the one thing that I’ve been working toward for over two years—and you serve it up to me on a platter.”

“And the problem with that is …?”

“The problem is that you offer it to me with terms that can only logically be explained as self-satisfying for you …” I falter because I realize I’m rambling now. And at some point I’m afraid that if I keep talking, private thoughts may tumble out—thoughts about him. And if I slip, then … he’ll know I think about him more than I should.

Colton sidles up next to me, leaning his shoulder on the glass, staring at my profile. Our silence extends for several moments, my anxiety ratcheting from his quiet scrutiny.

When he speaks, his voice is demandingly soft, “Why won’t you go out on the date with me?”

Whoa, change of subject!
A sliver of a laugh escapes my mouth from nerves. I keep my face averted from his, watching the world outside. “For what reason? You and I come from different worlds, Colton, that have different rules. You want a date so you can add another to the many notches in your bedpost. You said you wanted to fuck me to get me out of your system, and move on,” I say, reiterating his threat. In my periphery, I see him blanche at my words. “You may be used to women declaring their love for you and dropping their panties at
clever
lines such as that but not this one.”

Colton starts to speak. I know he’s going to drop a witty one liner about how I’ll have no problem dropping mine for him. Using one of his own tactics, I stop him before he can interrupt by holding my hand up. “My time with you was a momentary indiscretion on my part. One that will never happen again.” I turn my face to look Colton in the eyes. “I’m not that kind of girl, Ace.”

His regards me, the muscle in his jaw pulsing. He leans into me, the coarseness of his voice making his words resonate their truth. “You know that deep down, a tiny part of that proper, respectable woman you are, wants to visit that reckless, sexy, uninhibited place inside you that’s begging to get out. A place I can undoubtedly help you find.”

My eyes blaze at him while I try and reject the truth behind his words. He watches my internal struggle until I turn from him and walk back toward the conference table. I don’t want him to see the despair on my eyes from acknowledging the truth to his words. “You play dirty, Colton.”

“And your point is?” He retorts turning and leaning his backside against the glass, the lopsided smile flashing momentarily. “Sometimes you have to play dirty to get what you want.”

“And what exactly is it that you want?” I ask, crossing my arms across my chest as an invisible means of protection against him. As if anything really could.

Colton pushes off the wall and stalks toward me like a lion about to pounce on his prey. He stops in front of me, closer than necessary, and reaches out, using a finger to lift my chin up so that my eyes meet his. “You,” he states simply.

I feel as if all of the air has been vacuumed out of the room for with that simple word; I can’t breathe. Incredulity and willingness flood me momentarily as I accept his answer. The warmth is fleeting as I realize that this is how he does it. This is how he gets so many notches on his bedpost. He makes you feel like you’re the only one on his radar. He’s good. He’s really good. But I’m not going to fall for it.

I walk away from him, creating some distance so that I can think clearly. “So why a contract? What are trying to achieve?” I toss over my shoulder as I circle the conference room table. When I’m across the table from him, I turn to face him. “Are you going to threaten my job if I don’t
fuck
you?”

“No,” A wry smile turns up the corners of his mouth, “but there’s always that option.”

“Well, why don’t we just save us both the time and effort and get it over with,” I rebuff, exhausted by this game we’re playing. “Then we can move on to what really matters. Hell, we can even use the conference table if you’re that desperate.”

“We could,” he says laughing out loud, a sincere smile on his face. He presses both hands on the table, testing its stability. “It’s sturdy enough,” he shrugs, “although it’s not exactly what I had in mind.” His eyes express the lascivious thoughts he’s left unspoken. “And believe me, sweetheart, I’m far from desperate.”

His look sends shivers down my spine. I try to change tactics, as obviously the avenue I’ve taken is not working to deter him. “We both know you don’t need an escort to these functions. Why not have one of your girlfriends escort you?” I continue moving, knowing that if I stand still, I risk the chance of coming into contact with him. And the pull he has over my body is too strong to resist his touch. And if he touches me, then I think my resolve will crumble. “I’m sure that you have a bevy of beauties waiting for you to snap your fingers.”