She's quite an enigma. Something about Alexa James has captivated me.

  The announcement with landing instructions softly comes across the speaker, and both Alexa and I buckle up, preparing to land. I fight back the wave of nausea that threatens.

  There's a little bit of turbulence, and the plane jerks. My hand instinctively grabs the seat, squeezing the soft leather, my tension building. I hate this part about flying. I can take off all day long, but landing…it gives me chills.

  I feel something softly caressing the back of my hand. Heat courses through my body, alerting me that it's Alexa; I don't even have to look to know.

  It's like my body instantly recognizes her touch. I wish things could be different between us. But she deserves better than me. Ben from the diner could be the right guy for her. But Benjamin Hamilton is all work and no play.

  She draws circles on the back of my hand, forcing me to abandon my reasons for not being what’s best for her.

  The plane shakes and rocks more. Creaking and groaning. A bead of sweat forms on my forehead. An announcement about turbulence rings in my ears and has me ready to vomit.

  I shut my eyes tightly, trying to distract myself. Focusing on the job I have to do. The people I have to fool. Including myself, if I think for one second that Alexa and I won’t end up on bed together. My grip tightens.

  "In case I forget to tell you later, thank you for this." Alexa's soft whisper breaks through the tension. I look over to find her doe eyes looking up at me, gorgeous blue like a midnight sky framed with thick lashes.

  The plane leans to the right and then the left. More shaking. I'm trying to focus on her eyes, trying to lose myself and my fear in her deep baby blues. I feel panic rising in my chest like an anvil is repeatedly being lifted and dropped on it.

  A cool hand touches my clammy cheek. "Ben. Hey, Ben, look at me."

  I keep my eyes shut tight as I prepare for them to announce that the plane is going down.

  Alexa gently pulls my face towards hers. The shaking continues, my ears are popping, so I know we're about to land. How humiliating. Big Bad Ben is a whiny little bitch afraid of a landing.

  "Ben, hey." My eyes open, following the sound of her voice.

  "Hey, there you are," she practically coos at me.

  Before I can shut my eyes again, I feel her lips quickly press to mine. And in that instant, everything else fades into oblivion.

  The brush of her lips is gentle at first. Almost like a kiss between old friends.

  She applies more pressure, and once my brain catches up with what my body is feeling, I deepen the kiss by pulling her to me.

  My hands abandoned their post on the arm rests to tangle in her blonde hair, pulling it loose from the messy bun that she wears it in. She moans into my mouth, our breaths tangling.

  My tongue darts out licking the seam between her lips, begging for an invitation.

  Just as she slowly starts to open her mouth to allow me access to take us to the nest level, I realize we’ve stopped moving.

  She pulls away, and my hands drop into my lap. My mind reels from what just happened.

  Our gazes remain locked before she licks her lips and looks away.

  The click of her seatbelt breaks my trance. “I guess it’s me who should be thanking you.” I glance at her to see how she’s feeling after that mind-blowing kiss.

  I’m shocked to see that other than heavy breathing, she seems perfectly fine. Surely, this isn’t one sided. She kissed me, not the other way around. Then it dawns on me we landed. She was merely distracting me.

  “How did you know?” I’m curious.

  “It worked, didn’t it?” she counters.

  “Do you always answer a question with a question?” I tease but really hope she answers.

  “My old roommate had panic attacks,” she offers in explanation.

  “Guy or girl?” It’s out before I can stop myself. “Sorry that was intrusive.”

  “You’re right; it was, but to answer your question, girl. So, I’m familiar with what one looks like and how to diffuse it,” she adds.

  “You kissed your roommate like that?” Hot! But surely, that’s not what she meant.

  “What? Ewe, no! No way! I just—” She’s exasperated, and once again I’m turned, this time at the thought of her college shenanigans.

  “Because if you did, it’s cool, hot even. No judgment here,” I laugh, earning me a slap on the arm.

  “Let’s go Peter Pan,” she smirks.

  “Ouch.” My hand flies to my heart. “I’m wounded.”

  She smiles, and it’s a genuine one, one that could break hearts.

  We collect our things, and I send Noah a quick text to let him know that we’ve landed.

  I need to get to the apartment and take a cold shower. Or two.

  Chapter 6

  Alexa

  Driving through downtown New York at night is incredible. I let the bright lights distract me from the fact that I kissed Ben. That his lips on mine was magical, and I want more.

  We arrive at his condo in Manhattan, and I’m stunned. It’s sleek, stunning architecture, a fusion of mirrored glass and steel. I look up until my neck is craned back, and I nearly topple backwards. Ben is there to catch me.

  Seems to be a reoccurring theme in the two whole days that I’ve known him.

  “Let’s get you upstairs and to bed,” he says, grabbing a card from the driver before ushering me into the swanky building. The lobby is a contrast of dark grey wood, chrome trim and creamy white marble. This place is unreal.

  “I bet that’s what you say to all the girls,” I tease. The wine on the plane, coupled with that kiss and what I’m going to blame on jet lag, has me feeling woozy.

  “Only the lucky ones.” He winks as he swipes his card in the elevator, and we go rocketing up in the glass cage.

  Entering the apartment leaves me in the same type of awe as the lobby. It’s hard to imagine people really live like this. Dropping my bags at the door, I cross the hardwood floors, and I’m immediately drawn across the room where the floor-to-ceiling windows frame a picture-perfect view of Manhattan. The city and all its dazzling lights spread beneath me, it’s a rush.

  While the space isn't overly huge, coming from someone who lived in a one bedroom studio with a shower curtain for a wall, this place is palatial.

  “Does it ever get old?” Looking over my shoulder, I ask Ben whose eyes are locked on mine.

  And without even have to explain myself he replies, “Never.”

  “Then, why do you live in San Francisco instead of New York?” I question, walking towards him.

  “Most of my family is in California, and I like remaining close to them. My business has been predominantly in San Francisco, bringing me to New York only occasionally.”

  “So why even have a place here? I mean before now. Not trying to be rude, but it’s a little extravagant, don’t you think? A home on each coast yet no private plane?” I tease. My filter seems to have taken the night off.

  “Lately, I’ve needed to be here on the East coast more and more frequently, and hopefully, that's going to be the case after all these meetings. I’ve had this place about a year.” He looks like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t, as he fights an amused grin. I can tell from the way his lip twitches.

  “I'll show you to your room.” He changes the subject and starts down the hallway with my bag. I guess that's my cue that it's time for bed, and even though I slept on the plane, I am pretty exhausted from the time change and traveling all day.

  Walking past a large open concept contemporary kitchen, I follow him down the hall. Pointing left, he directs me, “Your bathroom is right through here.” I nod and continue following a few more steps before he turns to the right and opens a door, flipping on the light.

  "What the hell?" His voice heavy with irritation.

  I'm confused because this looks like a home gym or a home office with the loveseat. Surely he can't mean this is where I'm going to be staying. He brushes past me and through the door.

  “I'm going to kill Noah,” he says, grabbing his phone and dialing. Marching down the hall, I hear him talking. “It’s not funny!”

  I stand in the room, unsure what to do. It’s a great space, but not what I had in mind for a room. To be honest, I kind of assumed that we would be in an actual hotel.

  Shutting off the light, I wander back out and close the door behind me.

  I hear his voice raise. "Coincidence my ass! I don't care if there wasn't room for your stuff at your new place. Don’t think I don’t know what you're doing. You better get the stuff out of here. I don't care if you have to call someone to move it in the middle of the night.”

  I take the opportunity to use the bathroom and freshen up. One look at that marble shower and my muscles start loosening up, just thinking about standing under that hot rain. Turning it on, I watch as steam fills the room.

  Because the bathroom is not overly large, I grab my toiletry kit and set my bag in the hall. Surely he won't care; I am a guest here after all. And he did say this was my bathroom.

  Water feels heavenly cascading down my body. Who knew a showerhead could have so many settings, and the jets. Ahhhhh. The jets come out from the wall; it's like a freaking HGTV commercial. This is the kind shower that would never run out of hot water. No banging on the pipes required. The irony is not lost on me that I went from homeless to showering in marble in less than forty-eight hours.

  When I finally feel like I’ve washed away the day and then some, I step out and wrap myself in one of the towels from the linen cabinet. It’s the fluffiest, most plush towel I've ever had the privilege of wrapping my body in.

  It’s like someone pulled a cloud from the sky and cut it in rectangular shapes, just to cover wealthy people's bodies.

  Thankfully I am now a guest of all of this particular said wealthy person.

  Pulling my hair into a low braid, I wrap the towel tightly around me, securing it at my chest, and open the door to reach out in the hall and grab my bag. It’s not there!

  I tiptoe down the hall towards the living area, looking for Ben, but he's nowhere to be found. Walking back the way I came, past the bathroom and the spare room, I come to the only door that Ben didn’t open. I gently knock on the closed door, but there’s no answer.

  “Ben?” I call out. Turning the knob, I step into what’s obviously the master suite and see the biggest bed I’ve ever seen, dominating the center of the room. Worn, grey leather tufted headboard with nickel nail heads and snowy white linens beckon me. I don't notice much else beyond the bed in this room because I want nothing more than to climb into the layers of the white and drift away. The sound of water running alerts me to the fact that he's probably taking a shower of his own; at least there are two bathrooms. I’m too tired to think about how amazing he probably looks dripping wet.

  Walking close enough to touch the bed, I run my hand across the soft white duvet. I'm assuming since there's only one bed, he'll be a gentleman and give me this one until we can sort out the whole furniture debacle.

  Testing out the feel of it, I lean on the bed. Since I still don't see my suitcase, and I don't want to rummage through his drawers, and I don’t want him to see me in a towel, I climb into the bed to wait for Ben. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt if I just laid back. Drawing the covers up to my chin, I snuggle in deeper.

  I just need to keep my eyes open.

  Maybe I'll just shut them.

  But only for a second.

  Or two.

  Or-

  Chapter 7

  Alexa

  A soft snoring wakes me from my sleep. Why does my blanket feel so heavy? And if I’m awake, why do I still hear snoring? Opening my eyes, instantly regretting it when the bright sun streaming in the windows nearly blinds me, my mind plays catch up.

  Looking down, I see an arm draped over my body, a very tan and toned arm, holding me in place, confirming that I’m not alone. Not even close.

  Ben. His place. His shower. His damn fluffy towel. His bed. And now his body.

  Towel! Using my free hand, I pull the covers back just a fraction and confirm that I am no longer wearing a towel, and from the feel of it, I’m not wearing anything.

  I quietly try to lift his arm and roll out from under his hold, like a bedroom ninja, but nothing. He just pulls me closer into him. “Mmmm, Lex, you feel so good,” he groans, and I freeze.

  About that same time, it’s apparent he wakes up. I can tell because his body goes rigid. I could spare us the embarrassment and pretend to still be asleep. But where is the fun in that?

  “Good dream?” I ask, turning over in his arms. Facing him, huge mistake. Lots of them. Three that are screaming in my mind right now. One, morning breath. Two, bed head. Three, Ben. More specifically, Ben’s bare chest at my eye level.

  “Asks the girl who lost her towel,” he counters, pulling himself up to a sitting position with his back against the headboard, the sheet falling around his waist. I can’t help but look. His chest is bare. He must have a Channing Tatum workout video because he has abs for days. Perfected sculpted skin that disappears into a black waistband.

  “Eyes up here.” He uses my words from the diner against me.

  “Touché.” I do the same.

  “My clothes?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “All I know is I when I got off the phone, you were in the shower. Then, I needed a shower of my own. And when I came out of my bathroom, I found Goldilocks asleep in my bed.”

  “That still doesn’t answer where my clothes are,” I remind him.

  “I brought your bag in here last night,” he explains.

  “And we didn’t— you know.” I’m sure I’m beet red. I can feel the flush heating my head.

  “You mean you don’t remember it? I’m wounded,” he goads me.

  I sit up, drawing the blanket tighter around me. “Don’t be an ass.”

  “Okay, okay. No, nothing happened,” he throws out as he swings his legs over the side and climbs out of bed, giving me a perfect view of his perfectly sculpted ass. Even covered in black briefs, I know Jon Snow’s golden ratio has got nothing on this man.

  “Good.”

  “Trust me…if it had, you would remember,” he give me a wink over his shoulder before heading into his bathroom and pulling the door closed.

  Once I’m sure the water is running, I wrap the sheet around myself, grab my bag and sprint down the hall to the other bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind me.

  Now, if I could just find a lock to keep my legs closed because the more I’m around him, the harder it’s proving to be, and this is only day three.

  Following my nose, I end up in the kitchen and find Ben, pouring us both a cup of coffee. Turning towards me, sliding a mug across the granite top, I see he is now wearing black pajama pants slung low on his hips. Still shirtless, and still mouthwatering.

  “Figured now was as good a time as any to discuss the terms.” He crosses over to the table to sit and motions me to the cream and sugar. I fix it just the way I like, setting it aside to cool, and take a seat across from him. “I’m sorry there’s not much to offer for breakfast. Since I came earlier than planned, the kitchen hasn’t been stocked yet.”

  “It’s fine; I’m not hungry,” I offer.

  “Funny, I’m starved.” His smile says he’s joking…his eyes tell a different story.

  “Terms,” I pull us back to the task at hand.

  “Name them.” He looks amused, and I’m not sure why.

  “Well for starters, I’m not sleeping with you for money,” I blurt out.

  “Never planned that you would,” he tells me, looking over the edge of his mug as he takes a drink. “When you do, it’ll be because you want to, not because I’m paying you.”

  “Really? I’m not even addressing that last part. Anyways, I need to be clear about what’s expected of me. If I understand what you’ve laid out so far, you need someone to attend evening events with you. Business dinners, cocktail mixers and a gala, those types of things?”

  “Exactly, a perfect blend of brains and beauty.” He winks and I roll my eyes.

  “Thanks… I think. So, how long will you be requiring my services? You mentioned two weeks?”

  “Yes, a couple of weeks should cover everything I’m needed here for. Then, we will head back to San Francisco, and you can get on with your life.” His jaw ticks as he says it, and it stings a little how he plans to dismiss me.

  “About that. You mentioned you were willing to pay me twenty-five grand, and while I could use the money, more than you could imagine, I need something money can’t buy. Or, in your case, I guess it does, but I need connections,” I start, nervous he will reject the idea.

  “What exactly are you asking for?” he questions, his firm arms now crossed tightly over his chest.

  “I would like you to pay me by doing me a favor. Help me land an interview with Tate and Cane. I don’t expect you to arrange for me to be hired, just a meeting where I can explore permanent employment possibilities and pass along my portfolio.”

  While he’s momentarily stunned into silence, I use it to my advantage and keep going. “I would prefer to earn the job on my own merit, but I’m not above asking you to set a up meeting. First rule of business, It’s who you know.”

  “And as for payment,” I decide to press my luck, “an hourly wage of what you would pay an assistant should suffice, provided you are still covering travel expenses, required wardrobe and meals. Sound fair?” I hold my breath, waiting to see what he will say.

  “So, it’s a job you’re after?” His tone is flat.

  “Yes, even though I won’t be able to walk with my class, I graduate in a couple weeks. I was looking at relocating to attend MBA school, anyway, so why not New York? This is the perfect opportunity.”

  “So it would seem.” He stands and walks over to the sink, dumping the remainder of his drink out. Then he grabs something off the counter that turns out to be a wallet. “For these next two weeks, you’re mine from 3:00 pm to midnight, seven days a week. My assistant would make around twenty-five dollars per hour; normally that would include full benefits, but that won’t be necessary in this case. I’ll have it all drafted up for you to sign. All expenses, shopping, salon, groceries, anything… put on this.” He hands me a shiny black card, but this one is plastic and feels like lead in my hand because I know what type of card this is, and the credit line is more money that I’ve ever imagined possessing.

 

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