The Truth About Numbnuts and Chubbs(25)

"How could I? You didn't answer your phone and got home late."

"I had a meeting."

"Of course you had a meeting. You're always in a meeting and working late." Helena's heels clipped back into the kitchen with Carl padding after her, muttering about not arguing in front of the guests.

Since when had that ever stopped them? They liked an audience. Or Helena did.

She offered the dish of peanuts to Ben.

He took a handful. "Nuts for Numbnuts."

"If I didn't know them better, I'd think they did this on purpose."

A small grin bent one corner of his mouth. "Except your cousin despises me."

"True. Who doesn't?"

Dropping onto the couch he propped a heel up on the coffee table. She supposed no one had ever put the slob in his place about how to treat furniture, which was strange considering his own apartment was spotless. Clearly he spent little time there. "Did you think about my proposal yet?" he said.

"Haven't had a chance to read the terms," she lied briskly. When in doubt, lie. Fact was she couldn't think about that contract he'd sent her without getting as steamed up as her cousin's kitchen tiles.

"You're running out of time." He glanced at his watch. "Ten hours until you need to be at the airport."

She walked to a chair and sat, crossing her legs. Yep, his eyes went directly there. A giddy rhythm started inside her. The origin was impossible to pinpoint. Time to get a few things straight. "What about your girlfriend?" Which is what she should have said last night, before things got out of hand.

"Girlfriend?"

"The woman who left a message on your phone this morning. And her blonde hair in the hot iron in your guest bathroom, Numbnuts."

"Oh, you mean Phil?" He sprawled on the couch, one arm along the back cushions.

This was priceless. He was going to make out that was a man? "I don't know the name. Apparently they didn't think they needed to leave one on the machine."

"Philippa," he said carefully, "is not my girlfriend."

Ok. So what was he going to say next, she mused. Make out he had a long lost sister? Sexy step-mother who sometimes came over to do her hair?

"We've slept together yes," he admitted, surprising her with his frankness. "There is nothing permanent between us and never was. She uses my apartment occasionally when she's in the city."

Probably something he'd told women many times. She dug her hand into the peanuts again.

"You know I'm not a virgin, right?" he asked, one eyebrow quirking wryly.

"No kidding."

"And I know you're not. So there, that's over with."

"Just like that?"

"Why not? See, it's simple. Don't wonder, just ask." He pointed over his shoulder at the kitchen. "Like those two. It would save them a lot of trouble, but what do I know, being a perennial bachelor?"

Bryony took a napkin from the table and wiped her salty fingers. He did have a habit of making everything seem easy.

"If you'd asked me yesterday, I could have told you," he added. "No current girlfriend." Suddenly he hitched forward, sitting on the edge of the couch. He lowered his voice, although there was no need with the argument in full swing in the kitchen. "In any case, it didn't bother you too much last night and I know you saw that flat iron in my bathroom before we—"

"Shut up. I didn't know what to think." Another lie. She was going directly to hell with no passing "Go" and no collecting two hundred.

"And this trip to the Bahamas is all business. I told you, Mulligan, I want you for my assistant. We won't be lazing about by the pool, sipping frozen cocktails, Chubbs. It's a work trip. That's all" He sat back again with a hefty sigh. "I don't know where you got any other impression." Cocky grin.

"The terms of that contract you sent maybe?" she replied, curt.

"Really?" His grin widened. "I thought you just said you hadn't read it yet?"

Fuck.

Fortunately, Carl returned with the wine and glasses on a tray and there was no need to reply. She felt Ben's eyes watching her, his laughter almost touching her across the short distance. Smug horse's ass. But yes, he'd caught her out and it was pretty funny. Now he knew she'd read the document he sent her.

What he didn't know was that she'd made a few amendments to it. One tap of a button would delete it, or send it back to him. She just hadn't decided yet whether she wanted to play another round of his game. So far they'd got away with it unscathed, but next time around there would be a winner and a loser; it was inevitable.



* * * *



Interesting. She thought it necessary to fib, which meant she didn't know what to do about the offer. If she'd already decided to turn him down she wouldn't try to hide the fact that she'd read his contract. Hope sprung through his veins like a drug, brought him up, gave him energy.