He scowled. “About that name—”
“I tried it on for size because it felt right.” She shot him a cocky grin and finished off her beer. The crowds around them had thinned out. “I was right. It stays.”
“Fine, darling.” He stood up and helped her to her feet, holding on to both of her hands. His blood rushed hotter when she didn’t immediately move away. “If it stays, so does this.”
Lowering his head, he gave her plenty of time to back off, or turn away. She didn’t. She actually fisted his jacket and tugged him closer, so he melded his mouth to hers. He kept the kiss sweet and short, not wanting to push her too hard or too fast. When he pulled back, his entire body protesting the motion, he rested his forehead on hers.
Her breasts touched his chest, and she clung to him. It took every ounce of his self-control not to press closer to her. To not take more than a damn kiss.
Being with her, holding her in his arms, made everything thing seem brighter. Happier. Shinier. He had no fucking idea what any of that meant, but there was no denying it anymore. He’d never wanted to have someone so badly before, and that definitely meant something, so he’d keep his hands to himself. Keep his eye on the goal. Be patient. Caring. Understanding.
And in the end…he’d win.
Chapter Eight
Four days.
That was how long she and Benjamin had been hanging out, after agreeing at the hockey game to become friends for real, after becoming fake engaged. Backward, yes, but whatever. It was working…as long as she ignored the fact that she wanted him so much it physically hurt. Which was stupid.
She’d always been good at making logical decisions. She never made a choice without thinking through all the details and possibilities. Some might even say she overanalyzed everything—and they’d be right. She totally did.
Except when it came to Benjamin Gale.
When it came to him, she wasn’t rational at all.
They’d spent the last few days getting to know one another. Turned out, they had a lot more in common than being workaholics. They both liked hockey and basketball, and cats more than dogs. They preferred dark chocolate, and when he laughed, it made her think that maybe she was crazy for holding herself away from him.
She liked him. A lot.
Which was why she was so screwed.
They hadn’t kissed or done anything that wasn’t strictly on a “just friends” level since the night of the hockey game. He’d been one hundred percent proper at all times. If she was honest with herself, she missed the way he used to be. She’d give anything to have him look at her as if he wanted nothing more than to see what she wore underneath her skirts and blouses. She couldn’t think about anything else but finding out what lay beneath those suits.
The office quieted, so she glanced up.
If they were quiet, that meant…
“Hey,” Benjamin said, his deep voice sending a shiver down her spine like always. He wore a navy blue suit, a green shirt, and a striped gray tie. He looked as impeccably handsome as ever, and her stomach tightened at his proximity. Resting his big, calloused hands on her desk, he leaned close, lowering his voice so only she could hear him. “Shouldn’t you be gone by now, getting ready for tonight?”
She swallowed and set down her pen. Tonight was her debut in his world, at the mayor’s freaking ball. No pressure or anything. It wasn’t as if she was meeting anyone important, or being seen by anyone important. Just, ya know…
The Mayor of New York freaking City.
“I think this is a horrible idea,” she said for what had to be the billionth time.
He sighed. “So you keep saying. And as I keep saying, you’ll do fine. Did you use my card to get your outfit?”
“Yes. But—”
He rubbed his jaw. “It’s red, right?”
“Yes.”
A quick nod of his head. “I’ll wear my red bowtie.”
“How can you be so calm about this?” She stood and tossed her glasses on the desk. “I’ll make a fool out of myself, and you, and you’ll regret ever asking—”
He held a hand up, his jaw flexing. “You can stop that sentence right now, because I already told you I don’t regret a damn thing. Go home. Start getting ready.”
“You’re being stubborn.”
“And you’re procrastinating by trying to pick a fight.” He straightened her computer, and folded her reading glasses on top of it. He hated when things were out of order—she’d learned that about him, too. “It won’t work, because you’re too adorable to annoy me.”
She smiled for the first time that day. She couldn’t help it. “Benji.”
“Not even that annoying nickname will work tonight.” Lowering his head, he straightened her pens in color-coded order.
Licking her lips, she watched as his long fingers moved over her stuff. Her breath quickened, and her pulse sped up. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”