effects of being worked over by Bennett’s hand and left hanging—a hangover of another sort.
She stumbled her way to the door and pulled it open to find Bennett’s imposing frame occupying the doorway. He wore a stylish navy suit complete with shiny black cufflinks, a crisp white shirt, and silky light blue tie that matched his eyes. Not that she could see them because he wore dark shades. With his silky brown hair slightly mussed and his jaw still unshaven, he had the appearance of very, very bad rich boy.
Goddammit I want to spank him.
“Why are you not ready yet?” he asked curtly, towering over her. She wore no shoes, putting her right at his collarbone.
“Oh. Uhhh…” She flipped a glance over her shoulder toward the clock next to the bed. It was seven in the morning. “I didn’t—wait. Ready for what?” As far as he was concerned, she was leaving today.
“Ms. Reed, it may be a private plane, but I don’t own the airport. We have a departure window, and if we lose it, I will miss my meeting in Paris.”
“Paris?” She ran her hands over her messy, tangled hair.
“Yes. Paris. I have that meeting with Mary Rutherford.”
“But Bennett, I—”
He held up his hand to silence her. “You said you had nothing to offer me, but I read your first four modules this morning.”
She blinked at him. “You did?”
“You should put a password on your laptop.”
Her mouth fell open. “You went through my stuff?”
He straightened his tie. “Well,” he paused for a moment. “We both know I wasn’t myself last evening—they gave me a painkiller of some sort for the stitches even though I told them not to. Sake and medication do not mix.”
You should try it with vodka. “They gave you stitches?”
“Three. It’s nothing. I’ll be fine.”
She nodded slowly, the sting of his intrusion growing into a burn. “Glad to hear it. But that didn’t give you the right to snoop through my things. How the hell did you get in my room anyway?”
He shrugged. “I was knocking on the door and the maid passed by and let me in.”
“Nice.”
“Technically, the room is mine since I paid for it, just like I paid for that training. Fifty-thousand if I recall.”
“Yeah, but I told you; I’m giving the money back. I can’t—”
“You haven’t given it back yet, so I still have a right to that material. Also,” he paused and made a pissy little sigh, “I think your ideas, though unconventional, are very refreshing.”
Taylor almost sighed with relief. Not that it made sense to think he would’ve found the fake material—it was buried in one of her folders, while the real one was linked to her desktop—but for a minute, there, she’d worried.
“That’s nice of you to say, but—”
“We need to move past this whole thing, Taylor.”
“What whole thing?” she asked.
“You know what I’m speaking of.”
Oh boy. Not really. There were too many options.
“I’ve only had about two hours of sleep, so you’ll have to spell it out,” she said.
“There is no need for you to feel…uncomfortable. The kiss was merely a reaction—an impulse. As for last evening, it was merely the effects of the drugs.”
She opened her mouth to tell him that neither of those were the real issues. If anything, they only made her want to stay.
“I realize,” he said, before she had the chance to respond, “that I haven’t shown much enthusiasm for the training you’ve developed, but I’m a man of few words. I think it has merit, but more importantly, I need this. I need this deal with Mary, Taylor. It’s critical to another project I’m working on.” He removed his sunglasses and showed her the sincerity in his expression before she could throw any objections at him.
She beamed into those beautiful, slightly bloodshot pale blue eyes and forgot her words. All she could think of was how he made her insides all squishy and irrational every time he looked at her.
“Please?” he said starkly. It was the Bennett Wade version of begging—it wasn’t really begging or asking at all.
Probably because the man never had to ask for anything.
“You have my word,” he added, “I’ll never touch you again.”
She couldn’t come up with any appropriate words to respond to that. Disappointment, maybe?
He must’ve read something into her silence—something bad. Or, perhaps, he’d perceived her to be offended.
“Not—” he held up his hand “—that I don’t find you attractive. But I think we both know we’re…different. Not compatible. At least, not in that way.”
Okay. The