I could say the same thing about you!“Are you asking me out?”
The way she blurted that made it sound like an absurd possibility. After all, she hadjustbeen in his office as a potential client. One who had nothing but professionalism and moneyon the brain.Not how I made that money…She bit her lip, remembering how this man had tied her up to his bed to rail her, never mind ripping off her dress and sharing her with another…
She was blushing, wasn’t she?
“Maybe I am,” he said. “Not tonight. Tomorrow. If you’re available.”
Eden was still aghast. Not at his audacity, really, but the fact that she had woken up that day with only one thing on her mind, and it wasn’t sex. Let alone romance!
“This is not really appropriate,” she whispered.
He was taken aback. Literally. One step behind the other as Benson tipped backward, eyes searching the lobby for anyone who had seen this happen. Gone was the man who held no qualm about grabbing her in the middle of a room and saying with one breath,You’re mine.How many times had he said that in a few days? That she washis?That whenever she was with another man, she wasreallyhis?
Now, he faltered. Reality was here. Off the island, he couldn’t talk to her like this. He couldn’t strut up to her and say she was going out with him. Not without repercussions.
“I’m sorry.” After fixing his jacket and fussing with his sleeves, he inhaled deeply, reclaiming whatever dignity he had left. “I’m still on the clock, aren’t I? And you are a client.”
“Were,” she corrected him. “I’m sorry, but I can’t have you advising me.”
“Yes. Which is why I had the receptionist give you a referral to another firm that is not affiliated with me at all. I promise they’ll treat you with the same respect we have. I mean! Regarding your income. I mean…”
Oh, my God, did he see how much money I have?All those papers Benson had been printing when she entered his office! They were her documents she had uploaded online, right? The ones detailing her meager assets and her recent payday? Hewould know exactly how much she made being a fuck-bunny at La Mariposa!He’s such a regular, he must know how to figure out how many times I screwed another man that wasn’t him!
Just like that, the excitement of the situation evaporated. Only a few days ago, Eden had begged this man to call her a slut. Except now shereallyfelt like a slut – and all of the negative connotations that came with that word.
“Please forgive me.” Benson held his hands behind his back, as if that was what it took not to touch her. “It wasn’t my intention to come on so strong, but I also know that intent is not magical.” He scrunched his face. “Why did I say that out loud?” That murmur was uttered as he turned around, one hand on his face. “I sound like my daughter…”
“You have a daughter?” Eden squeaked.
There it was. Benson looking like the sorriest shit in the world. “Uh, yes. She’s grown. In college. She says things likeintent is not magicaland I think I’ve internalized it.”
He had a college-aged daughter.He had a college-aged daughter.
“How old are you?”
Benson opened his mouth, but didn’t speak. The best he could do was scoff. Finally, he muttered, “Forty-five. I’m also divorced, if it makes a difference.”
Divorced… adult daughter…This man was the pinnacle of baggage to a twenty-five-year-old like Eden. “You’re exactly twenty years older than me,” she blurted.
“I know. I mean, I figured it was like that.”
“I’m young enough to be your daughter.”
“Yes, well… guess it’s weird off the island.”
Was that it? Or was Eden just receiving too much information at once?
“I’m sorry,” he apologized once more. “I’ll go. Please… I’m sorry.”
He turned. As he stepped away, attempting to keep his shoulders square and some of his pride intact, Eden couldn’t help but feel some pull, some ephemeral tug yanking her toward him.
Was that the same string that had pulled him downstairs toward her? Was it some erroneous thread of fate?
“Wait.”
Eden fixed her purse strap as Benson slowly turned back toward her, uncertainty marking his aged yet handsome face.He doesn’t have a single gray hair.Did he dye it? Were his genetics just that good? How many other secrets did he have?
“Give me your number.”