I guess that抯 why, when I discuss the Miami trip, I leave out the fact that I抦 not going alone.
9
I arrive at LAX on Sunday afternoon, flustered and cranky. We could probably have handled the settlement conference over Zoom, but Fiducia抯 headquarters is in Miami where another disgruntled former employee resides, so it made sense to talk to her in person before we meet opposing counsel.
It made sense at the time, anyway. Now the former employee has canceled and I抦 stuck with Ben for the next twenty-four hours, a prospect I抦 unreasonably nervous about.
I抳e traveled with other colleagues before, but not him. And though I抎 like to believe I will discover something I can use against him later on, something to damage his impeccable reputation, I抦 not especially optimistic. The odds that he抣l turn out to be the guy who gets drunk on free airplane booze are slim.
He抯 waiting for me near security, wearing jeans, a t-shirt卆nd an unbuttoned flannel shirt, with the sleeves pushed up.
We抮e about to spend six hours on a plane and won抰 meet opposing counsel until tomorrow, so it抯 not as if he needed to wear a three-piece suit. But I抳e never seen him in casual clothes before, and Ben in jeans and a t-shirt is brain-scrambling: flat stomach, trim hips, nice forearms.
Internally, I search for my ever-present chant of we hate him, we hate him, but it抯 feeling a little forced today. My steps falter as I get closer, taking in his unshaved jaw and cocky smile.
揝ee something you like??he asks.
I feel pinned by his gaze. 揘o.?I clear my throat. 揑 just expected more scales and open sores.?
揥e抣l save that reveal for the pool,?he says with a smirk, waving me in front of him.
The pool. Ben, half naked. I get a sudden image of nicely chiseled abs, trunks hanging low, a happy trail. The penis that抯 apparently neither small nor weak, though based on my knowledge of the law I抎 suggest he shouldn抰 be revealing it in public.
Thank God we won抰 be staying that long.
I ignore him all the way to the plane. I definitely do not stop to watch him threading his belt through his jeans with agile, practiced fingers after we get through security. Nor do I notice the way he blocks people from shoving us in line with his broad shoulders, or how he moves me in front of him as our boarding passes are scanned, his hand on the small of my back, as if I抦 someone who needs protection.
My phone rings and I answer gratefully when I see Keeley抯 name. Ben抯 currently lifting my carry-on into the overhead bin as if it抯 nothing梐 toy car, a paper plate. I could use a distraction.
揑抦 at Saks,?she says. 揕ooking at those shoes you wanted. Will you be mad if I buy them for myself??
I reach down to fish my laptop from my purse. 揟he yellow ones? Of course not. I抦 probably not buying them anyway. What am I梠r you梘oing to wear with yellow shoes??
揈asy ?the yellow wardrobe I抣l buy to go with them,?she says. 揧ou, of course, will wear them with a boring black suit.?
I laugh. 揋ood plan. This is why I love you. It抯 also why you抳e got so much credit card debt.?
Ben has settled into his seat, clearly listening in, and he抯 not even trying to hide it. I stare hard at him. The universal signal for mind your own business.
Instead of respectfully opening a magazine or looking away, his mouth tilts into a shadow of a smug smile.
揑f time is dragging while you eavesdrop, Tate,?I hiss, 搈aybe you should find some other way to occupy yourself.?I return to my phone call. 揝orry, Keeley.?
揇id you just say Tate? As in, the terrible Ben Tate??
I sigh. 揑 did.?
揌ow curious,?she says, sounding far too amused, 搕hat you never mentioned your trip to Miami was with the terrible Ben Tate. And he must be hot if I抳e never heard you malign him physically even once, because you know you would.?
揑抦 not that bad,?I mutter. It抯 difficult to defend myself with Ben listening.
揧ou ended a date early because you didn抰 like the way a guy抯 hair looked from behind.?
I turn toward the window, away from Ben, so I can almost pretend this conversation is private.
揑t was bizarre!?I reply. 揑t was like he had hair going halfway down his neck. Not long, but like卌oming out of his neck.?
揂nd what about the guy with the weird knuckles??
揥hat about him? Imagine what his hands will look like when he抯 seventy.?
Ben laughs under his breath, and my head jerks toward him. 揇on抰 you have a single mother you can evict somewhere??
揑 would,?he replies, 揵ut I think they抮e about to make us turn off our phones.?
I sigh once more. 揑抎 better let you go, Keels. The Prince of Darkness here has sensed I might be enjoying myself and is determined to bring it to an end.?