right. Bennett’s motives had to be something else. Simply put, he wasn’t the sort of man to play around. He wanted something, he went after it. That included women. Oh, yes. After the plane crash, she’d started reading all the gossip columns—I’m a stalker. I need help—and Bennett collected women like he collected expensive cars. Movie stars, heiresses, models—he dated them all. Of course, he was never seen with any woman more than once. Womanizing cretin. In any case, she wasn’t his type, and he wasn’t hers.
I just get a little flustered around him. After all, the man is…he’s…he’s got a thing going. And by “thing” she meant a severe male hotness he knew how to own, work, rent out, club you over the head with, whatever.
Taylor watched Bennett’s imposing, masculine frame walk out his office door, toward the men waiting in his private lobby. They shook hands, then slipped into a fishbowl conference room near the elevator bank. His confident stride indicated he definitely knew she was watching him every step of the way, and he definitely knew he’d gotten to her.
Gah! She plopped down on his sofa and covered her face, letting out a perturbed little groan. She felt like she’d been shaken, not stirred, and then poured into a martini glass where she’d been simultaneously sipped on while having her olives chewed.
And she goddamned liked it.
She couldn’t remember the last time a man had made her feel all wobbly and scatterbrained like that. They were always too sweet, too into themselves, too sedate, or too…simply not her match. But this man was like biting into a goddamned jalapeño. The first few seconds were a piece of cake; but the more you chewed, the hotter it got.
She rubbed the goose bumps on her arm, thinking. The intrigue and challenge of seeing if she could reshape Bennett Wade into someone more human had grabbed hold and pulled her right in. However—and this was the absurd part—she understood the futility. In all likelihood, Bennett Wade was too arrogant to ever change.
Perhaps changing him shouldn’t be the goal. She’d had a few glimpses of something inside him—how reassuring he had been before and after the crash, not to mention his relationship with his mother—that led her to believe he cared about other people, even if just a little. Think. If you could get him to open that part up, he’s the sort of man who could really do some good. Over a hundred thousand people worked for the guy, and he had influence far beyond that.
The question is, can I handle him? More precisely put, could she handle the next two weeks with him?
She vigorously shook her head from side to side, trying to chuck all the nonsense from her brain. Of course I can. Besides, she really needed this to work. He was the key to her company’s survival. But had he meant anything he’d said about truly wanting her help, or was he after something else?
Don’t be ridiculous. Bennett’s not interested in you. Once again, she reminded herself of the types of women he’d had, could have, and wanted. They were tens. She was…well, normal. Brown hair, brown eyes, average height and body.
But on the other hand, making her keep the phone definitely meant…well, something. Right?
Come on. Maybe the man really wants to change. Maybe he genuinely respects me. And maybe he wants me to have the phone because he’s demanding and wants to be able to contact me whenever he likes.
Taylor sighed at the phone and letter still on the table and then placed them in her purse.
“Ms. Reed?” Robin stood in the doorway. “Here is your check for fifty thousand dollars, the invitation for the ball, and the limo confirmation.”
Taylor lifted a brow. “Sorry?”
“Oh, is there a mistake? Mr. Wade said your fee was fifty thousand. If that’s incorrect I’ll just call him and—”
“Uh. No. The amount is fine. Thank you.” He knew I’d cave! That check was waiting, just like he was waiting for me to come today. Ugh. The man was good. A damned gifted genius at reading people. “Wait. Did you say ball?”
Robin held out a red envelope. “The annual Wade charity ball. Here’s your ticket, and the limo will be at your brother’s house at eight o’clock. My card’s inside if you need anything else.”
A charity ball? And he knew where she lived? Of course he did. Stalker.
“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” Taylor said. “Bennett told me we’d be working tonight.”
“No mistake.