Chapter 35
Bennett
How bad did I want the job?
Annalise had left for her weekly dinner with Madison a few hours ago. Since I had an early-morning appointment out of the office tomorrow, and my bed would be empty tonight, I’d stayed extra late to finish things for my full pitch to Star Studios, which was coming up soon. This week had been busy as hell, even though it was only Wednesday. And we still had dinner with douchebag’s sister on Friday.
I grabbed the key to Annalise’s office from Marina’s top drawer to leave some sketches on her desk. At lunch today, she’d mentioned she was stuck coming up with a logo for a kid’s magic marker company that was expanding into a line of professional artist markers. An idea had come to me while I worked on shading in a different project, and I thought it might work for her client.
Annalise had brought the account with her from Wren, so we weren’t in competition—I had no reason not to help.
Only when I went to put my drawings on her desk, I found the entire concept for her Star pitch laid out there: storyboards, 3D-logo models, and a thick, red expanding-file folder labeled RESEARCH. I stared at the banded folder—there had to be three inches of damn research. Way more than I’d done. What could she have in there? Shit that could give her an edge, that’s what.
I set my drawings on her seat and picked up the folder. The thing had weight.
Fuck.
I shouldn’t.
But what if I’ve missed something?
I knew two things with absolute certainty. One, it would be a pretty scummy thing to do. And two, if the shoe was on the other foot, and it were Annalise finding my desk with all this shit, she’d turn around and walk the hell out.
But there was no fucking way I could move to Texas.
I wouldn’t be doing it for myself. I’d be doing it for Lucas.
There was an exception for shitty behavior when the end justified the means, right?
What the hell could she have in here? Seriously, this thing had to weigh three pounds. Maybe there was a brick inside? Or a book? A hardcover of Marketing for Dummies? I could at least check that, couldn’t I? It might set my mind at ease to know I wasn’t missing research.
I pulled the red rubber band off the file folder.
God, I’m a fucking asshole.
Setting it down on the desk again, I stared at it some more.
What if this weren’t Annalise?
She’d said herself that she’d tried to take the person out of the equation when deciding how to act. A sixty-year-old, married man—I was pretty sure that’s who she pretended her competition was.
What would I do if I’d found this file of potentially helpful information, only the competition I’d been pitted against was a sixty-year-old dude instead of Annalise?
I’d like to think figuring out the answer to that question required some debate.
But…we all know better, right?
I’d already be at the copier photocopying the crap out of this file.
That, in a nutshell, summarized the difference between me and Annalise. When she walked through a how would I act scenario in her head, she always came out on the right side of what was ethical. I, on the other hand, came out on the right side of what would bring me closer to what I wanted.
So what the hell was stopping me?
Annalise and her goddamned ethical bullshit had me feeling guilty.
Groaning, I picked up the file folder, wrapped the rubber band back around it, and set it where I’d found it. I swiped my drawings from her chair, pulled the door shut behind me, and then squatted down to slip the artwork under the closed office door. She’d find them in the morning without ever knowing I’d been inside.
I grumbled my way back to Marina’s desk to replace the key. While I was there, I figured I’d leave her a note that I’d be out tomorrow morning since my appointment had originally been in the afternoon.
I found a pen and looked around for something to write on. Next to her phone was one of those message pads that had three little carbon copy tear-off message slips on each sheet. So I grabbed that and started to write on the bottom one.
But the carbon that remained from the message above caught my attention because it had Annalise’s name on it.
DATE: 6-1
TIME: 11:05AM
FOR: Annalise
CALLER: Andrew Marks
PHONE: 415-555-0028
MESSAGE: He’s returning your call. Call anytime.
***
“Is something wrong?” Annalise leaned her hip against the counter in the break room.
“Not a damn thing,” I said, pouring my second cup of coffee.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “So just a general piss-poor mood then?”
“It’s been a busy week.”
“I know.” She looked toward the door and lowered her voice. “That’s why I thought I’d be nice and make you dinner at my place last night. Only you didn’t answer my text, and this morning when I saw you in the hall, you looked like you might bite me.”
I picked up my mug. “You’re the one who wanted to make sure we were discreet in the office. Should I have stopped to feel you up?”
She squinted. “Whatever. Don’t forget dinner is at six tonight with Lauren and Trent at La Maison.”
I scoffed. “Can’t wait.”
Annalise rightly read into my sarcasm. She sighed and turned to walk out of the break room.
Near the door, she stopped and turned back. “Thank you for the sketches, by the way. They were exactly what I needed and couldn’t come up with.”
I looked up from my mug and our eyes caught. Fuck it.
“I went into your office to put them on your desk last night. I saw it was covered with your work on the Star campaign, so I left and slipped it under your door.”
She cocked her head to the side and searched my face. “You didn’t look at anything?”
After I’d found the message from her ex, I’d contemplated going back in. But I fucking couldn’t. Wussy. I shook my head.
Her eyes lost focus for a minute, and I got the distinct feeling random shit was spinning around in her head as she tried to click together the pieces of some puzzle.
She zoned in on me again. “Are you annoyed with yourself that you didn’t rummage through my things?”
I folded my arms across my chest. “I asked myself if I would’ve walked out if it were someone other than you.”
“And…”
“I wouldn’t have.”
Annalise’s eyes softened. “Well, thank you. Is that why you’re all grumpy? Because you didn’t treat me like the enemy.”
“It wasn’t—until I went to put back the key in Marina’s drawer and caught a message she’d left you that someone had called you back.”
Her face fell. “It’s not what you think.”
“So you know what I’m thinking now?”
“When I called Lauren the other day to confirm dinner for tonight, she told me Andrew was planning on joining us. I called him to ask that he didn’t. That’s why he called me back.”
I walked toward the break room door. “Whatever.”
Annalise exhaled loudly. “Next time just come to me if something’s bothering you.”
I stopped in the doorway where she stood. “Or maybe next time, I’ll grow some balls and gain an edge on the competition.”
***
“Sorry about that. I figured those two needed a few minutes alone. My wife likes to meddle in shit where her nose doesn’t belong. But I’m a beaten-down man, so I don’t fight it.” Trent Becker held up his glass and tipped it to me. “My answer is always ‘Yes, dear.’ And a good scotch.”
I raised my glass. “Sounds good to me. Doesn’t even matter what the question is.”
Annalise and I had arrived at the restaurant from the office at the same time. Lauren and her husband showed a few minutes later. Since the hostess said our table wasn’t ready yet, Trent had asked me to go to the bar and get drinks, while the ladies immediately dove into talking.
“Lauren and Annalise have a personal history.”
I sipped and looked over the rim of my glass at Trent. “Andrew. I know.”
Trent raised his brows. “So she’s told you.”
“She has.”
He nodded. “Makes sense. Especially since he’s the one who facilitated this get-together.”
This was a business meeting. I had to keep my opinions to myself, but with the door open to peek inside, I couldn’t resist. “Odd timing. Annalise has been working in marketing for years. Yet she said you guys had never discussed her pitching for your business.”
Trent looked around, then leaned in. “Lauren thinks the sun rises and sets on her brother. But between us, I think he’s a bit of a pompous, selfish dick.”
This time my brows jumped. Maybe this dinner wouldn’t be so bad after all.
“Sounds like you’re right, from what Annalise has shared. But like you, I’ll keep that to myself.” I raised my glass. “And swallow my thoughts down with this scotch.”
Trent chuckled. “Annalise is great. I’m glad we should be able to throw some business her way. I just hope it doesn’t help my dear old brother-in-law worm his way back in. Let him stay with the Swedish stewardess he’s been seeing off and on behind her back the last few years.”
Shit.
Figures.
I knew that guy was a douche.
Eight years and still no commitment told me he’d been jerking her around; I just hadn’t known the reason. What a dumbfuck.
The bartender brought two glasses of wine, and Trent and I argued over who paid the tab. After I won, we walked the drinks over to the ladies, who were huddled on a bench near the hostess station.
‘Thank you.” Annalise stood for me to pass her the glass. She leaned in with an apprehensive smile. “All good?”
Mine was genuine. “Never better.”
Dinner with Lauren and Trent turned out to be surprisingly enjoyable. We talked a lot about their business, and they were open about their ups and downs and seemed to have a good grip on the market they wanted to reach. They also shared the hefty budget they’d allocated to web and television advertising, which justified the board rewarding the campaign responsible for landing the account.
“So who does what?” Lauren asked neither of us in particular. “Is one of you web and one of you TV or something?”
I let Annalise take the lead on that one. How she chose to spin it was her call.
“Not really. We have team members who specialize in things like art, copy, and market research. We’ll use them to jointly come up with two different campaigns to present to you.”
“Oh, wow. Okay.” Lauren smiled. “I’m sure I’ll love whatever you come up with. We’ve always had such similar taste.”
Yet again, Annalise could have screwed me. All she needed to do was mention that we’d each do individual pitches and they’d be picking whose they liked best. No doubt that would give Lauren a good pre-sell on which one to choose. But Annalise presenting it like it was a team effort really leveled the playing field.
I glanced over, and she glinted a sweet smile.
So fucking beautiful. And that shit was contagious, because I smiled back, and I sure as shit am not a damn smiler. I’m more a pissed-off-face kind of person—mostly because the majority of people piss me off. In fact, I’d venture to guess that the corners of my lips have been tilted up more since I met Annalise than in the first thirty years of my life.
I let my eyes drift back to her for another look. She was just so fucking moral and good. It made me want to do immoral things and make her bad later.
I used my napkin to wipe my mouth and then accidentally let it fall to the ground. Bending over to pretend to grab it, I slid my hand up Annalise’s dress under the tablecloth and watched her jump when my thumb stroked over the warm center between her legs. Her reaction was to immediately slam her thighs shut, and I almost lost my balance when she closed my arm between her legs with a yank. I coughed and tugged my hand free, trying hard not to laugh.
Is there some way I could finger her right now and watch her attempt to talk business to douche’s sister at the same time?
She looked down at me with warning in her eyes. “Are you okay, Bennett?”
I righted myself in my chair and dropped my napkin on the table in front of me. “Just a slip of my hand.”
My hand discreetly slipped a few more times before the end of the night—the last time to squeeze her ass while we walked to the restaurant door behind our potential new clients. Their car pulled up just before mine did, so we said goodnight and watched them pull away.
If they’d looked, Lauren and Trent could probably still have seen us in the rearview mirror as I pulled Annalise into my arms.
“You were so bad tonight.” She pressed her palms against my chest.
I brushed my lips with hers. “I can’t help myself. I want to do bad things to you. Come home with me. I missed you in my bed last night.”
Her eyes softened. “I missed you, too.”
I couldn’t remember ever missing anyone, except for Sophie. And that was totally different, because she was really gone. Yet I hadn’t just fed Annalise a line. I’d actually missed her. After one night apart. And as much as the thought freaked me out, the thought of not having her in my bed tonight actually freaked me out a little more. So I ignored the warning bells blaring that I was taking things too far.
The valet pulled up in Annalise’s car.
“I’ll follow you,” I said.
“Actually, could we stay at my place tonight? I ordered a new chair for my living room two months ago, and it’s being delivered tomorrow morning sometime.”
“Yeah. Of course.” I kissed her forehead. “As long as I fall asleep and wake up inside of you, doesn’t matter where we are.”