“No. Just driving.”

He flaunted a mischievous half grin. “I was imagining you narrating sex for the entire drive home. Taking off panties. Opening legs wide. Pulling down boxers. Attempting to wrap my fingers around—”

I interrupted. “I get the idea. I think you’re going to be splurging on some fresh copies of Better Homes & Gardens with that imagination.”

Bennett grabbed the door handle. “You have no idea, Texas.”

I was glad it was dark, because this time my face flushed for a different reason than lying.

He opened the door. “Goodnight. Thanks for the amusing ride home.”

I’d started the evening so miserable and was ending it with a smile. I realized Bennett had given that to me, and I hadn’t thanked him. Rolling down my window, I called after him as he rounded the car and hit the sidewalk. “Bennett?”

He turned back. “Texas?”

“Thanks for tonight. Maybe you’re not such a jerk after all.”

The streetlight illuminated his face enough so I caught his wink. “Don’t be too sure of that.”

He turned to walk toward his door, but continued to speak loud enough so I could hear. “Bending her over the bed. Wrapping crazy blonde hair around my fist. Tugging hard while spreading legs wide.” He opened the front door and stopped for a brief second before going in. “Much better than Woman’s Day tonight.”

Chapter 14

* * *

Bennett

Three nights in a row.

And now this.

What the fuck? I blinked a few times, attempting to rid myself of another new fantasy. It almost worked, but then Jonas pushed a bunch of file folders around on his desk, looking for something, which caused a stapler to fall off on the side where we were sitting. Annalise leaned forward to pick it up. Her damn hair tumbled forward to one side, giving me a clear view of the creamy skin of her neck. It looked so soft and smooth—my brain jumped to wondering if she was smooth all over.

A few days ago, the night Annalise had dropped me at home, I’d jerked off to thoughts of her before going to bed. It was normal, I’d told myself. I’d just had dinner and drinks with a beautiful woman—any guy who didn’t come home imagining her blonde hair wrapped around his fist while her sexy ass was perched up on all fours really was buying Woman’s Day to read the articles.

One-hundred-percent normal. Meant nothing at all. So why not indulge? One night of fantasy couldn’t hurt. Let’s face it, it wouldn’t be the first time I’d fantasized about a colleague. No one would know. No harm, no foul. But one night had turned into two, and two had turned into three, and then yesterday when I walked into the break room and found Annalise bending over to grab something out of the refrigerator, I’d actually started to get hard. At work. In the middle of the fucking day. To visions of the shapely ass of a woman I needed to obliterate, not fantasize about until I ruined a two-thousand-dollar suit with an embarrassing teenage-boy moment.

So I’d retreated over the last forty-eight hours—giving her the cold shoulder yesterday and again this morning. I’d made a mental decision not to allow myself to think about her, except for ways to come out the victor on every pitch. Unfortunately, my eyes didn’t get the message. And that just pissed me off. Each time I caught my gaze wandering her way, I reined myself back by harnessing the anger over my momentary lapse in judgment. Which meant I’d been a dick a lot in today’s meeting. But it sure as shit wasn’t my fault her red skirt showed off a lot of leg and kept catching my eye. Or that she wore skinny, four-inch heels that wrapped around her delicate ankle and begged to pierce the skin on my back.

That shit was all her fault.

Annalise shifted in her seat and crossed and uncrossed her legs. Like white on rice, my eyes were right there.

Fuck me. She had great legs.

I shut my eyes. Nope, can’t look, Fox.

I counted to five in my head and then opened them, only to notice a cluster of tiny little freckles on her left knee. I had the insane urge to reach over and rub my thumb over them.

Crap.

Pull your shit together.

Annalise moved yet again, and her skirt tugged up another half inch.

Her red skirt.

Fitting, because this woman was the damn devil.

We’d sat two feet apart from each other on the other side of Jonas’s desk for a solid fifteen minutes, listening to him update us on the status of various things related to the merger. Occasionally, Annalise would chime in and say something and look my way, but I stayed quiet with my head straight ahead, focused on the boss rather than letting my eyes do any more roaming.

“That brings us to the board’s assessment of you two. One of the board members, who is also a major shareholder, brought in an opportunity with a potential new account to pitch.”

I leaned forward in my chair. “Great. I can handle it.”

I felt Annalise’s eyes burn into the side of my head. “So can I,” she snapped.

“No need to argue. You’re both going to handle it. The board has decided this pitch will be one of the accounts you’ll both be reviewed on. You’ll each get to come up with your own campaign. But you should know, our firm is coming into the game a little late here. Two other agencies are already involved, and we’ll have to work on a tight timeline. Pitch is due back in less than three weeks.”

“Not a problem,” I said. “I do my best work under pressure.”

From my peripheral vision I caught Annalise rolling her eyes. “What’s the account?”

“Star Studios. It’s a new division of Foxton Entertainment—the movie studio. This division will concentrate on foreign blockbusters and remake them here.”

I’d never marketed a studio or a film, but I knew from reviewing Annalise’s account list that she had managed more than a few. Studios were some of her biggest clients. She definitely knew her way around that marketplace—an unfair advantage for something that could ultimately decide what damn state I lived in.

“I’ve never worked with a movie studio. But that was Wren’s niche.” I lifted my chin toward Annalise. “Fifty percent of her accounts are film related. I don’t think it’s very fair for the board to use a pitch like this to assess our strengths. I have no market experience in this field.”

Jonas frowned. He knew I had a valid point. “Unfortunately, we don’t have the luxury of picking from too many large proposals. Besides, most of Annalise’s film accounts are for individual movies, and this is marketing for a new production company—they want branding and market strategy. Those are your strengths, Bennett.”

I looked over at Annalise, and she hit me with an exaggerated I’m-gonna-win-this-one-because-you-don’t-know-shit smile. It pissed me off, but not because she had an unfair advantage. It pissed me off because my first thought was Hey, look at that. She changed her lipstick today, when it should’ve been I’m gonna wipe the floor with you.

More annoyed with myself than ever, I lashed out at her. “Do you know anyone at the studio? It’s a small industry. I just want to make sure you haven’t slept with anyone over there making decisions.”

Annalise’s eyes widened then narrowed to angry slits. “I’ve never slept with a client. And your comment is offensive. No wonder HR has worn a trail in the carpet from their office to yours.”

Jonas sighed. “That was uncalled for, Bennett.”

Maybe, but this was total bullshit. “I want to use my own team members, not share so that some Wren employee acting as a mole can leak my ideas to her.”

“No one is a Foster Burnett or a Wren employee anymore. We’re one team. It’s bad enough you two are basically pitted against each other. Your teams are just starting to find their way working together. It will cause a divide if we separate them for this project. You’re both going to need to use the full team’s resources.”

I stewed. Annalise, on the other hand, kissed ass.

“I agree,” she said. “We need to keep the team together, not tear them apart.”

Jonas opened a file and lifted up his glasses to read the top paper inside. “There’s a meeting up in L.A. the day after tomorrow. The studio has invited us for a tour and some backstage insight. You’ll meet with the VP of Production and some of the creative talent. Gilbert Atwood, the board member who got us the pitch, is planning on flying up to join you and some of their people for dinner. So it’ll probably be a late night, and you should plan to stay over. I’ll have Jeanie send you both over the address and contact information so you can make your arrangements.”

I managed to mutter an insincere thanks at the conclusion of Jonas’s little meeting. Not in the mood for talking to anyone, I went back to my office and shut the door behind me. The door abruptly swung open and slammed shut two minutes later.