Chapter 16

SIXTEEN

Mina

I always enjoy being at work after hours. The hum of activity dissipates, leaving the cubicles and desks in shadows. My office becomes a haven—an island of light in a hibernating atmosphere. Which is a good thing, given that I've taken on so many new clients, I'd be smart to turn my sitting area into a sleeping area. The bill for Shady Cove is due. Technically, it's past due, though Glenda in the financial office is an angel and gave me some leeway on the stipulation that I didn't tell anyone. I almost had everything under control money-wise until one of my clients, a happily married couple looking to spice up their living space, decided to get divorced instead. How's that for spice?

I'm going to have to figure out something, because as sweet as Glenda is, that leeway will have a limit and I can't risk Mom losing her place at Shady Cove. Maybe I should ask Nathan for the advance Fallon suggested when this whole thing started. I cringe, then question the reaction. Maybe going to him for help wouldn't be as bad as I fear.

After weeks of feigning a relationship with Nathan, we have settled into a strangely pleasant rhythm. We go on three dates a week instead of the two we agreed on and I'm not even sure how that happened. I think it just feels nice, pretending to be falling in love. Mostly, we have dinner and drinks at The Pact, a bar and grill owned by his aunt and uncle. Nathan likes being there because we're most likely to be seen together and inspire family gossip. I'm a fan because I love everything about the place. The ambiance captures the essence of island living with its laid-back charm. There's a pool table and a dart board. A jukebox adorned with colorful neon lights that perpetually plays good music. The décor reflects the coastal vibe, with nautical accents, wooden furnishings, and walls adorned with local artwork as well as the pact the owners wrote when they first became roommates, swearing they'd never fall in love. Funny how that turned out.

Everything on the menu is mouthwatering, inspired by local flavors and seafood. From conch fritters to grilled mahi-mahi tacos, I've yet to find something I don't like. The bar serves an array of tropical cocktails, craft beers, and signature drinks. I leave slightly tipsy and totally full most nights.

Our time together has been spirited, to say the least. Nathan and I pretend to flirt while actually picking fights in round after round of one-upmanship. Though lately, we've been running out of things to argue about and have stumbled into actual conversations that give me glimpses of the man his cousins know. The man his students know. Kind. Caring. Giving. But say the wrong thing or make the wrong move and Nathan shuts that down. Hard. He's trying to draw boundaries. Or recreate himself. Or something. Whatever it is, he's going about it all wrong. Maybe someday we'll talk about it.

Even though we promised we wouldn't go farther than arms around shoulders and hands on waists, the moment we get together, that all goes out the window. He'll touch my cheek and electricity courses through my body, so I return the favor by rubbing my thigh against his. My libido riots when his eyes go hot, heavy, and hooded, then obviously, he lets his hand linger on my hip until one of us says something to irritate the other and then we're rat-a-tat-tatting to see who gets the last word.

Bicker. Flirt. Bicker. Flirt. Everything between us is fire and flash.

I sit back in my office chair and stretch. My aching muscles thank me for the movement. According to the tension in my neck and shoulders, I've been hunched over my desk longer than I thought. I have a meeting with Benjamin in the morning to discuss our preliminary plans for Nathan's build and I stayed late so I could be prepared, not exhausted.

My phone lights up with a call as I check the time.

I huff in surprise when Benjamin Bancroft's name fills the screen. Did I summon him with my thoughts? Might be a beneficial skill, seeing as I've loved every minute of working with him so far. He's talented. Driven. The design in my mind blends perfectly with the structure in his. At least that's the way I see it. Maybe to him, I'm the young pup biting at the ankles of a titan.

I accept the call and put the phone to my ear.

"Speak of the devil," I say, then grimace. Weird much, Mina?

"I hope we're speaking good things." Benjamin sounds like he's smiling. Or flirting. No…that's ridiculous. He wouldn't be flirting. He thinks I'm dating Nathan. I must be getting my signals crossed.

"I was thinking about you more than speaking, I guess." I blink several times, quickly, then slap my cheeks to knock the cobwebs loose. If that doesn't sound like flirting, I don't know what does. "I'm at the office, preparing for our meeting tomorrow," I clarify, in my most professional voice.

"I thought that was your car in the lot." Benjamin huffs a laugh, almost embarrassed. "I was working late too, saw your car, and thought I'd take a chance that you'd like to work late, together. I'm kind of right outside your building."

He's here?

Now?

I peer through my office door toward the front of the building while Benjamin continues, "I do some of my best thinking while driving. It was chance that brought me your way." He sounds nervous, which makes me giddy.

Is the man named "One to Watch" five years running worried about what I think of him?

"I actually know that about you," I say, then hurry to explain. "I read an article about you…okay, I've read lots of articles about you, but this one explained how you like to ‘drive down the ideas.' I tried it, hoping to get some Bancroft level inspiration, but I'm more visual. I need to move things around in CAD and see the effects of the changes."

"You know, if you wanted, you could let me in and we could have this conversation face to face. Not that I mind standing out here or anything."

"That, sir, is a solid point," I say, then drop my head into my palm.

Dear God. Send help. Yours truly, Mina Blake.

I push out of my chair and hurry for the door, sending a stack of papers on Tad's desk into the air. I slow my pace as they float to the ground like confetti for a celebration I didn't know was happening. Nathan's words from weeks ago echo in my head.

Easy now, Hot Mess. Don't hurt yourself trying to impress the guy.

My infatuation with Benjamin seems to annoy him, though everything about me seems to annoy him, so I'm not sure it's that big of a deal.

I restack Tad's papers, then make my way through the quiet building. Wouldn't you know, Benjamin's right where he said he'd be, leaning against the wall, messenger bag resting on his hip, looking more handsome in the dimly lit entrance than he has any right to. He lifts a hand when he sees me and I turn the lock, pushing open the door and stepping aside as a muggy blast of air hits me in the face.

"Hey," I say, brushing flyaways behind my ear.

Benjamin's smile softens. "Hey."

He steps inside and the door closes behind him. Suddenly the meditative quiet takes on a life of its own, swirling between us and highlighting that I have no idea what to say or do from here. I'm standing next to a legend.

A legend who drove by my office late at night, saw my car, and stopped because he wants to work with me.

And this is after I met Collin and Harlow West. Actually had drinks in their house.

My life is the coolest right now…and I have Nathan to thank for it. I guess even villains can't be all bad all the time. I inwardly grimace at the joke. Nathan isn't a villain. I should stop thinking of him that way.

Benjamin glances around at the interior of Fuller Design and I try to see it through his eyes. The empty reception desk with the vining plant trailing off the edge. The scripty logo on the wall behind. The handful of cubicles leading back to the offices. I've been happy here, but knowing he works out of his home studio instead of for a firm makes me very aware of my modest place in the design world.

"This doesn't look like the kind of place that inspires the design magic you're capable of." He looks pleasantly unimpressed as he leans over the reception counter and peers at the mess Gina considers an organizational system.

I hold out my hands like a realtor showing a home she knows is beneath her client's standards. "Well, see, my magic happens back there. In my office. Not to brag, but I have a door and everything."

Benjamin straightens. "Fancy."

"Follow me and prepare to be amazed." We head for my office, and I'm acutely aware of him behind me. My heart flutters for a moment, and I silently curse the timing of things. Why couldn't the man I've been crushing on forever show up at my office, out of the blue, in the middle of the night, when he didn't think I was dating our rich client?

We step into my office and Benjamin makes an approving face. "Now, see? This? This is where magic happens. I loved this space the first time I was here, and I love it even more now. You're smart with your design, Mina. It shows."

I beam at the compliment. I tried to make the space as inviting as possible without overwhelming the design concepts I present to clients. Clean lines. Clean surfaces. Comfortable seating. Though tonight, my desk is strewn with sketches, fabric swatches, and notes on Nathan's build, with several others I'm working on neatly stacked in the corner.

"Wanna talk about the ideas you're trying to drive down?" I ask, steering the conversation toward a professional tone. "Got some groundbreaking designs keeping you up?"

He chuckles, a sound that warms the room. "If I'm honest, I couldn't wait until tomorrow to see you."

Benjamin looks at me, a flicker of something in his eyes—a question, an invitation. My heart races, unsure of how to navigate this unexpected tension.

While I'm trying to figure out what the hell is going on, Benjamin realizes what he said and hurries to clarify.

"We're good together," he adds, like that makes it all better.

In any other situation, this would be a dream come true. But I'm supposed to be dating Nathan, which makes this kind of a problem.

I step back, palms lifted. "Look, I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression…"

"I mean, professionally. We're good together professionally." Benjamin chuckles nervously. "I couldn't stop staring at the preliminaries for Nathan's build and they're good, Mina. Really good. Do you know how many arguments I've had with designers about load bearing walls? They never take things like that into consideration. But you do. You and I make quite the team. I had to get in the car to settle myself down, saw you were here, and well, you know the rest."

I am such an idiot. Of course Benjamin Bancroft wasn't here to hit on me. Why in the world would I jump to that conclusion? And why does knowing he's here professionally make me feel relieved? All this fake flirting with Nathan is messing with my head. I'm seeing things that aren't there. Feeling things that don't exist.

"Do I get to see these magical plans?" I ask.

Benjamin pulls a laptop out of his messenger bag, opens it on the desk and I literally gasp when I see the visual representation of our brains coming together. These designs are only preliminaries and they're damn near perfect.

"I'm not even going to have to argue with you about the staircase placement!" I meet his grin with wide eyes. "That literally never happens."

"I extended the living room by a few feet to make space for one more window," he says, tapping the screen, "maximizing natural light in the morning as per your suggestion. That meant the stairs fit better here…" Another tap.

"Which completely opens up the flow of the first floor." I lean in for a better look. The influx of natural light will transform the feeling of the living room, and after spending so much time with The Prince of Darkness, there's one thing I know for sure…

Nathan West could do with more light in his life.

"This is amazing." I straighten and lean a hip on the desk. "I would have needed a drive to settle myself down after seeing it too."

Benjamin stands close, pointing out several other exciting design features that I totally miss because there's a warm line of contact between us, his shoulder, arm, and hip brushing against mine. Talk about mixed signals! I know he's not flirting, but it sure as hell feels like he's flirting.

I can see the scowl on Nathan's face, hear the gravel in his words. If he saw us now, he'd be upset.

I shift, putting space between me and Benjamin.

That's strange. The man of my dreams is possibly coming onto me, and I can't stop thinking about Nathan. What am I supposed to do with that?

Benjamin leans a hip on my desk, the picture of boyish charm. "Can I ask a personal question?"

I suddenly have a terrible suspicion I'm not gonna like where this is going.

"Sure."

"You're talented. Intelligent. Beautiful. Nathan's, well, he was rude to you at our first meeting and his response to your text that night? The ass biting one?"

I nod and pray Benjamin moves on quickly.

"It didn't give me the warm fuzzies," he finishes. "I know I'm way out of line here, like pushing every possible boundary of our professional relationship out of line, but how do you get from that to being in a serious relationship? Are you sure you want to be with him? Is there a chance the crush you've had on him for years might be blinding you to what's really going on?"

I almost correct him and say that he's the one I've had a crush on for years, but catch myself just in time and exhale all the breath in my lungs in one quick huff. "That is definitely personal," I say instead.

"I don't mean to be rude and you can tell me to shut up and I will, but I hate to see people accept less than they're worth and, something tells me that's what's happening here."

I disintegrate into a fidget fest and search for something to say. Anything at all will do. Unfortunately, I couldn't form a sentence if my life depended on it.

Benjamin straightens, shaking his head and reaching for his laptop. Eyes averted. Cheeks flushed. "I'm sorry. I'm way out of line. I've made my career by following my instincts, but people aren't as straightforward as blueprints. I should know by now not to stick my nose where it doesn't belong."

He shoves his laptop in his bag, and I put a hand on his arm. "It's okay. I appreciate you looking out for me. I do. It's incredibly sweet and thoughtful and I wish more people went out on limbs like that for others. Nathan's…"

Normally a litany of negative descriptors would be clamoring to rocket out of my mouth, but the only word I have tonight is, "…misunderstood. I called him The Prince of Darkness when we first met. To his face even. When you get past that, he's…"

I search for a word to describe what's underneath Nathan's bristly exterior, but Benjamin holds up his hands.

"You don't have to explain. If you're good, great. Just…if you're not good, I'm here to help."

That's the kind of support I'd expect from Fallon, or my mom, not a business associate whose career is lightyears ahead of mine.

"How are you single?" The question's out before I have time to evaluate its conversational worthiness. Thankfully, Benjamin doesn't so much as flinch.

"I'm a perfectionist who hyperfocuses on just about everything. Great for architecture. Not so great for human interaction. Add a penchant for saying exactly what I'm thinking and oddly enough, that narrows down my dating options." Benjamin swings his messenger bag over his shoulder. "Forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive."

Other than the fact that I almost found myself standing up for Nathan.

We say our goodbyes and Benjamin sidesteps his way toward the door, eager for an exit I'm glad to let him take.