A Mess of a Man (Cruel & Beautiful #2)(28)

She graces me with half a smile. “Ben, this isn’t me. I can be the bigger person and not just because it’s possible your company will be a client of mine. The truth is I should apologize for letting that night go as far as it did. It was unfair to you.”

I shrug as her genuineness takes all the annoyance out of my sails. “You always have a choice,” I say in all sincerity before I dial up the wattage on my smile. “Even if I did get hurt in the process.”

“Hurt?” The smooth skin across her forehead creases in confusion.

I see no reason to edit myself. It isn’t like there will ever be an us.

“Yes. My balls were drawn so tight, they’d turned blue. I blame my lack of functioning brain cells for my unfortunate choice of words before I left. And I, too, need to apologize about that.” I scrub a hand through my hair because this woman makes me feel off balance, off my game. “It was uncalled for.” I lift my hand sheepishly. “Granted, I was pissed because I was hurt.”

She laughs, granting me more of her sweet smile. “What is it with men like you?”

“Men like me?”

“Yes. Men like you who are used to all women falling at your feet and ending the night with some sort of sexual gratification.”

For a second, I’m confounded by her logic. As I process, I think over all my recent encounters with women.

“I don’t need sex from every woman I meet,” I say with defiance.

Her smirk is a delicious challenge. “I’d like to see that day.”

The smile on her face is wicked with a silent double down dare issued and received. Against my better judgment, my mouth opens and I’m saying shit I wouldn’t normally say.

“Let me take you out.”

Her lips part and before she can form any type of rejection on her tongue, I keep talking.

“Nothing fancy, just something casual between friends. And no sex,” I say with a half-grin. “Just a little makeup dinner. Makeup sex is phenomenal. I’m sure makeup dinner could be good, too.”

And what the f*ck is that all about?

Her smile blooms and I want to kiss her so bad I have to fist my hands at my sides not to touch her.

“You, Mr. Rhoades, always seem to know the right things to say.”

“I think you’ve proven that’s not always the case,” I say with a smirk. “As much as I wouldn’t mind a good debate, I’m probably going to lose my job if I don’t get back to my meeting. I have a client wondering why I left the conference room in a hurry. So you have to agree.”

“Is this blackmail?”

“No. But unless you want me to be homeless, you’ll answer quickly.”

She only hesitates a second longer before she says, “Fine, it’s a date.”

I reach out and snag her soft hand. The need to touch her is too strong, and I indulge further, kissing her knuckles. “I’ll text you. I hope Saturday night is okay?”

I don’t wait for an answer, hurrying off to close the Sadler deal. I open the conference room door with a couple of bottles of water and offer them around before I nail the rest of the presentation if their smiles and assurances they plan to sign the contract are any indication.

A couple of grueling days later, Jeff sweeps in my open door. Sometimes, I long for solid walls. The glass fronts don’t offer any seclusion unless you turn on the privacy feature, which fills the panes with a gas that turn them opaque. It’s kind of cool.

With his arms raised on either side of him like he scored a touchdown, he says, “I hear the Sadler account is in the bag.”

I shrug. “The contract isn’t signed, but they spoke as if they were leaning towards going with us.”

“Then we should celebrate.” He claps as if somehow that seals the deal.

I haven’t been out since the disastrous night with Samantha, but the last thing I want right now is to go to my empty house.

“How about poker?” I ask.

Jeff’s smart which is why he’s on the fast track for a promotion. Between Mark and him, they’re the closest things I have to friends who could maybe fill Drew’s shoes one day. It doesn’t take long for Jeff to see through my suggestion. He points a finger at me. “You’ve been holding out on me. You have something going on with that event planner.”

I’m not sure how to answer. Our situation is certainly unique.

“She’s a friend.”

“Like Karen was a friend?”

I ignore his comment. “Do you want in on poker or what?”

He sighs heavily. “Yeah.” He points at me on his way to the door. “You owe me a bottle of Lagavulin.”

I nod. “Bring Mark.”

“As if you have to remind me. The guy needs luck tonight. He can barely buy lunch these days with that ex of his draining him dry.”

Like everything else these days, I lose big that night. It’s for a good cause because Mark wins. I can’t say for sure whether we let him win or his luck was stellar. Either way, my pockets are lighter.

Days later, when I pull my Jaguar F-Type in front of Samantha’s house, I wonder for the hundredth time if I’m doing the right thing. Before I can make a decision, she breezes out the door looking as fresh and beautiful as the proverbial girl next door. The kinds of women I’m used to, normally look like girls gone wild when we go out. Yet my body makes its opinion known as every muscle goes taut with need just at the mere sight of her.