Okay, clearly we were going to have to talk about the proper etiquette of being my employer. He was a walking, talking human resources nightmare. Good thing I had no plans to turn him in for sexual harassment. I pulled back just a fraction. “What if I’m not so keen on f**king my boss?” I licked my lips and his gaze zeroed in on my mouth.
His thumb stroked my bottom lip. “Or I could order you to your knees and put this pretty mouth to use.”
His large palm continued lightly rubbing my ass, and I swear just that simple touch and the burning desire I saw reflected in his eyes was making me wet. “I wanted to be gentle, make love to you properly, but you’re making that impossible. The longer you make me wait, the harder I’m going to f**k you when you do finally give in.”
“Ben . . . we have to get ready for your pre-production dinner. I need to shower, dry my hair. . . .”
“We’ll discuss this later,” he said, and gave my butt a playful swat.
I yelped at the unexpected contact and absently massaged the heated spot as I made my way to the bathroom for a shower.
• • •
After a long, hot shower, I wrapped myself in the downy hotel robe and padded into the bedroom in search of the suitcase Ben had packed for me.
I was surprised to find so many pretty and elegant things inside. A basic black string bikini, a pink-and-white polka-dotted bikini with a matching pale pink sarong, casual flip flops, espadrille wedges, several sundresses—all designer brands and each in my size. There were shorts, skirts, and tank tops in every color. I selected a pretty royal blue strapless sundress and a pair of silver strappy sandals with little jewels at the ankles. There was even a little pewter-colored handbag that I could tuck a tube of lip gloss into at least. I lay out the dress and finished getting ready, blow-drying my hair and applying light makeup.
When I slipped on the dress I found it was a perfect fit. It hugged my every curve and landed just above my knees. I straightened the bodice that gently squeezed my br**sts and inspected myself in the mirror one last time.
“You look beautiful, baby.” Ben’s hands slid across my hips and settled against my waist.
I loved getting dressed up for him. It had a way of making me feel pretty and put together. I knew it was foolish but just the fact that this beautiful man found me worthy of being on his arm made me feel confident. Stepping into the silver-jeweled sandals, I felt like Cinderella, and the glass slipper even fit.
Ben
Strolling into the restaurant with Emmy on my arm made me feel both comfortable and uneasy. Comfortable because she had a way about her that made me feel relaxed and calm. Uneasy because we were preparing to be around Fiona. Who could possibly be carrying my baby, and who was known to treat Emmy like shit. I was leading her into shark-infested waters. All my senses were up.
We were the first two to be seated at the table for four on the expansive terrace that overlooked the turquoise-blue water. I helped Emmy into her chair and couldn’t help but notice she was fidgeting. Toying with the little strap on her purse and spinning the silver bracelet on her wrist.
“Hey, we’ve got this. I’ll take care of you. Always. You trust me, right?”
Pretty gray eyes locked on mine and she gave me a careful nod.
The server appeared, a slight young girl who seemed captivated by me. Great. Just what I needed. I didn’t want Emmy feeling insecure. I reached across the table and took her hand. I cleared my throat and the waitress’s gaze snapped up. “Something to drink?”
“Yes, just water for me please, but what beers do you have on tap?” I nodded to Emmy.
Emmy’s lips curved in a smile as she listened to the choices, and then placed her order. I knew my girl.
Once the server was gone, Emmy shot me a curious glance. “Water because of your shoots coming up?”
I nodded. It actually wasn’t, but letting her think so was easier. I wanted all my wits about me to deflect Fiona’s cruelty from Emmy tonight. I didn’t want alcohol slowing my reaction time or numbing me to the situation. This was essentially the first time they would be forced into each other’s company, and frankly that scared the hell out of me. I would need to play interference. I wouldn’t have Fiona belittling my girl.
The evening breeze picked up strands of Emmy’s hair and lifted them from her neck. I watched her, mesmerized, until a wave of laughter with a British accent interrupted our silence. My stomach cramped. My new girlfriend and my ex-lover at the same table. Fuck.
Emmy
Fiona strolled onto the terrace in a flowing orange sundress on the arm of an older bald man, who I assumed was our company for the evening. She looked gorgeous, as always, and I hated her for it. While my hair was three times its normal volume and frizzed out of control from the humidity, hers was flat-iron sleek and smooth and hung in a glossy wave down her back. Her lips were painted in pink gloss, and were those false eyelashes? I resisted rolling my eyes and instead followed Ben’s lead, standing to greet them both.
She kissed Ben on both cheeks and I clenched my fists so tightly my nails cut into my palms. Ouch. Breathe, Emmy, I reminded myself.
The bald man introduced himself as Gentry Smith. He was the photographer for the photo shoot.
Once we’d ordered drinks, Fiona stood from the table, one hand resting on her little swollen belly. “Will you excuse me a moment? I need to visit the loo. This baby makes me wee more.” She chuckled.
Whore.
I had no patience for her or this pregnancy. If that made me a terrible person, so be it. I was trying my damnedest to be polite and well mannered around her. I couldn’t also be expected to control my thoughts. And in my mind, I’d clawed her eyes out before the appetizer even arrived.
We dined on grilled swordfish, tiger prawns, and scallop mousse, which I didn’t think I’d like until Ben urged me to try a bite from his fork. I found it surprisingly good. But my favorite dish of the night was the garlic and Parmesan risotto. It was creamy and salty and I ate every bite on my plate.
I did my best to ignore Fiona, which was relatively easy. I focused on the delicious food as Gentry talked endlessly about all the models he’d shot over the years. It was poor taste, really, to brag as much as he did, but none of us minded because I sensed that Ben and Fiona were just as glad for the distraction as I was. He only talked briefly of their photo shoot on the beach, and I’d asked a few basic questions about his start and end times, like any good assistant would, before the topic was changed to cover the rest of Gentry’s impressive list of accomplishments.