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Val turned over and punched her pillow, picturing Bennett’s tempting smirk. Why was the man so infuriating? Something low in her belly pulled, and she groaned against the need.
No, she would not do this. Especially not because his raw sex appeal woke up everything inside her that screamed, Hello, I’m a woman. Again she repeated all the reasons why his little proposal was a bad idea. Artist. Unconventional. White. They wouldn’t have a fundamental problem with him being white, but the fact that he was different from every single man they’d shoved at her would rankle her mother. And well, he screamed bad boy.
No way her parents were going to let him in the door. They were professors at Princeton, for the love of God. Their tenured friends would wrinkle their little upturned noses when they saw him. And that would earn another disapproving glare from her mother. Oh, how Val had become accustomed to that glare.
Outside all that, she had her own reasons. She didn’t like him, for one. For two, he was obnoxious. And arrogant. Nobody would believe she would even look at him. Much less be engaged to him.
But he kissed better than any man had the right to, and she’d promised herself she’d do something different. Try something different. And if this wasn’t a shining beacon as to why she needed to, she didn’t know what was. Who gave a flying fig what anyone thought? She wasn’t going home alone. Just once she wanted to tell everyone to shut up. She didn’t care. Bringing Bennett home would certainly do that.
Val sat up and pulled the scarf off her head. She didn’t even pause as she opened her door and charged right up to his. If she hesitated, she’d think this through. She’d worry too much. She’d think about all the bad things, all the angles. She knocked briskly three times.
Though, given the soul-shaking decibels of Joe Cocker, she doubted he heard her. When he didn’t come, she knocked again. It took him another minute before he yanked open the door...shirtless. Wearing only a pair of jeans hanging very low on his waist.
Val could only stare. Damn. She’d only ever seen anybody this good-looking naked in a magazine. She was a food blogger, and sure, she worked with models. But they didn’t need to be shirtless to pose with food. Note to self, start requiring shirtless male models. His tattoos, roped and corded around his arms and his torso, were a beautiful thing to see. She wanted to run her fingertips over them.
“Hey, sweetheart, my eyes, they’re up here.”
She snapped her gaze to his and flushed, hoping her dark complexion would conceal her embarrassment. “Okay, fine. I’ll scratch your back if you’ll scratch mine. But a couple of things first.”
“Of course there’s a catch,” he whispered. His lips tipped into a lopsided smile, and she almost forgot what the hell she was saying. She should make a no-smiling rule.
Because that smile would get her in trouble. “First, turn your music down. We might be the only ones on this floor, but seriously, I need my beauty rest. Second, we need some rules of engagement. Finally, don’t call me sweetheart.”
He leaned forward, and she involuntarily swayed toward him, his scent intoxicating her. “Whatever you say, cookie.”
Chapter 5
Bennett studied Valentine as they sat in the café connected to their building. “You know, you can loosen up a little, right? I don’t bite or anything.” He smirked. “Unless you’re into that sort of thing. In which case I might reconsider.” He gave her what he hoped was a disarming smile. But nothing. All she gave him were dark eyes widened to the size of saucers. “Come on, Valentine. Give me something to work with here.”
When she wrinkled her nose, he had to smile. She probably didn’t realize the action made her look adorable. He wasn’t going to be the one to tell her, though.
“Sorry. This is somehow more awkward than every first date I’ve ever been on. And for me that’s saying something.”
“Look, I go on a lot of first dates.”
“Somehow that does not surprise me,” she muttered under her breath.
He opened his mouth in mock shock. “Oh, my God, was that an attempt at snark or humor? Be still my heart. I might be in love.”
That did it—a giggle escaped, transforming her normally stoic face into one that completely arrested him. Wow. Her full smile could easily be a weapon of mass destruction for men everywhere. He should call somebody about that or something. Report it. What was that campaign the MTA was putting out there? If you see something, say something? Valentine Anderson was lethal. Thing was, he was pretty sure she didn’t know it.
“Okay, well, you can call me Val. I hate the name Valentine. And these days it’s more of a curse thing anyway.”
“That’s too bad. I think it’s cute, but Val it is. So, Val, what do you say we actually go somewhere, do something? We can head uptown to the Met or to Central Park. Or we can stay down here and check out the Moore Gallery. It just opened and—”
She stammered as she interrupted him. “Y-you want to go to the Moore Gallery?”
He frowned at that. “Yeah. I love art. I am a photographer. I like to look at beautiful things.”
She put up a hand. “Sorry. I guess until yesterday, I wasn’t even really sure you were a photographer. I assumed artist, but even then, like a welding artist or glassblower or something. I kept trying to pair the loud music with you.”
“Glassblower, huh?” He laughed. “I kinda like that idea. I should totally photograph that. Sorry to disappoint, though.”
“It’s okay.” She shrugged. “At one point I also convinced myself that you were the leader of a motorcycle gang and you were running a black market operation or something out of your loft.”
“I like how you think.” He nodded toward her untouched coffee. “You want to get that in a to-go cup so we can leave and check out the gallery? Beats sitting here trying to get all our details written down. We can make it more organic.”
She raised a brow. “Like a real first date?”
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up in warning. Was she indicating that she wanted this to be a real date? This was not part of the dozen or so scenarios he’d run. “Uh, not really.”
She barked out a laugh, and damn it, his brain did that misfire, unfocused thing again. “Oh, my goodness, you should see your face right now. Relax, slick. I don’t want to date you any more than you want to date me. You are not my type in any way, shape or comprehensible form.”
He frowned. Wait, why are you upset? You don’t want to be her type. Yeah, but still. He was every woman’s type. Evidence being how he ended up here in the first place. “Uh, that’s a first, but whatever.”
“We can leave the coffee. I can’t drink it anyway.” She stood.
“Why not? Something wrong with it?” He followed.
She shook her head. “I’ll have that bitter taste on my tongue all damn afternoon and I won’t be able to eat, because I can taste the burned citrus flavor of the beans. It’ll make me nuts.”
“Seriously? You don’t like coffee?”
“Oh, I love coffee, I just need it to be good coffee. Otherwise I can’t taste anything else. And for a food blogger, that’s disastrous.”
He frowned. “First of all, what do you mean, good coffee? Second of all, how is it that I didn’t know you’re a food blogger?”
She shrugged. “You pay much attention to lifestyle brands?”
“I’m a photographer, remember?”
“Yeah, good point.”
He opened the door for her and had to grit his teeth when she brushed by him lightly. Hell. This hormonal thing was going to be a problem. Relax, it’ll go away. Soon enough, he’d be on assignment...he hoped, anyway. On assignment he could sleep with a whole bunch of women to block out the taste of her. Right now, though, damn. “What’s your handle or whatever?”
“I’m Val’s Heart.”
He stopped in his tracks. “Seriously? You’ve been in a few national magazines. You had an article on ethnic food we’ve been missing or something like that.”
She grinned. “You saw that?”
“Well, I was helping out the art director for layout with some of the spare photos I’d done. I went to that Eritrean restaurant you recommended in Brooklyn.”
The wonder in her eyes and her smile were completely infectious. “Wow. Someone who knows me. That’s great.”
“Well, lots of people know you. You’re in magazines.”
“Yeah, I guess, logically I know that, but it’s not like I meet someone and I’m all, I’m Val’s Heart, you know.”
“I guess so. So tell me, where is this great coffee? And why won’t you be able to eat anything else?”
She grinned as she led the way down Prince Street. “I sort of have a combination of hyperosmia and synesthesia. The hyperosmia I was born with, though it intensified when the synesthesia started. It’s like I can taste and smell everything. Everything has a scent. Coffee, for example, is extremely strong. If it’s not the good stuff, I’ll be tasting the bitter aftertaste for the rest of the day. And I’ll be able to smell it nonstop. Not to mention I wouldn’t be able to do anything else with my taste buds.”
“That’s amazing. So everything has a specific odor?”
She nodded. “Sometimes it can be great. Like when you walk into one of those high-end chocolatiers where they do shavings for you? Man, that place is like pure nosegasm.”
A laugh burst forth. “Did you just say nosegasm?”
She nodded. “Sure did. It’s a thing. At least to me it’s a thing. It’s easy to get overwhelmed, too. If I’m not mentally prepared, or I don’t have my nose plugs, large crowds will give me a headache like no other. Also, a night out at a cramped club or something with my girlfriends can be hazardous. Bigger venues can be better as long as they’re nice and airy. But a lot of guys put on way too much cologne.”
He knew he shouldn’t ask the question, but his curiosity got the better of him. “What do I smell like?”
Her answer was immediate. “Sandalwood and musk, and there’s something like the hint of the ocean. It’s a fresher scent. I can’t really place it.”
“So is that good or bad?” Why did his voice sound so husky?
“It’s, uh—” A faint hint of pink tinged her cheeks, and he had to smile. So he smelled good to her, huh? Why the hell was that a good thing? “You know. For people who like sandalwood, it’s great. Come on, let me show you what real coffee tastes like.”
His next question died on his tongue. Do you like sandalwood?
* * *
So Bennett Cooper wasn’t all bad. And if Val was being honest with herself, she’d had fun. A really good time. The gallery was just the icebreaker she’d needed. It was easier to be free with him when they were walking and talking.
And while he might not be the best neighbor, he was smart. Quite brilliant. The man had been all over the world. He was talking about an expedition to the North Pole next. Once they’d started on travel and food, they pretty much hadn’t stopped talking.
So maybe trying something new hadn’t been the end of the world. Val still wasn’t convinced taking him home was the best idea she’d ever had. And he still was not her type, but he was almost cool. Almost. And it wouldn’t be awkward.
When the elevator let them out on their floor, he hesitated, then mumbled, “Oh, great. Our first test.”
“Isn’t that your lady friend from the other night?”
He gave her a pursed-lip smirk. “She’s not my lady friend. Try my boss’s wife.”
“She seriously putting the moves on you?”
“You could say that.”
“Who’s the guy with her?” The man casually leaning against Bennett’s door was more like the kind of guy Val should take home. Dark chocolate skin, pretty as hell, and dressed to kill in a blazer and dark jeans. She knew fashion well enough to recognize that the jacket was Marc Jacobs. The shoes were Louboutins for men. The dude practically screamed I’m a model.
“That is my best friend, Trevor. He’s back from a stint in Europe. Making New York his home base again.”
“Right. Okay.” She plastered a smile on her face. “So how do you want to do this?”
He ran his hand through his hair. “Follow my lead.”
“Wait, wha—”
But his fingers clasped around hers and he tugged her down the hall before she could argue.
“Trev, my man. Welcome home.” He released Val only long enough to wrap his arms around the other man and clap him hard on the back. “When did you get back?”
Trevor grinned at Bennett just before his gaze flickered over Val. “This morning. But I’m guessing I should have called first. Who’s your friend?”
She stiffened. And this was where she’d have to pull this off. With a deep breath, she slipped into character. “I’m Val, Bennett’s fiancée. You must be Trevor. I’ve heard a lot about you.” She turned her attention to Adriana. “And you’re Mrs. Voss, right? I’m sorry we didn’t get to meet properly the other night. You know Bennett—sometimes he gets carried away.”
Adriana’s face pinched, making her look like a duck who’d sucked on a lemon. Trevor, on the other hand, grinned even as he stared at Bennett. “Yo, man, we have a lot to catch up on. I move to Europe for six months and you go and fall in love?” He added, “And you, Val, we’re going to talk, because if you can rope my man Bennett here, you are formidable and I want to marry your sister.” His gaze slid over her. “Tell me you have a sister.”
Bennett just shook his head. “Dude, shut up. Adriana, did we have an appointment? I’d hate to think I missed something.”
The older woman looked none too pleased. “I’m actually just here to extent the invitation to dinner this weekend to Val myself. I figured you might forget or not tell her how genuinely we want to meet this fiancée of yours.”
Wow. She was a piece of work. Translation: she didn’t believe the ruse. Fair enough. If Val was going to be Bennett’s fiancée, she might as well go all in. “Oh, he told me, Mrs. Voss. And I’m delighted to say we’ll be able to make it. Unfortunately, though, I have a long day tomorrow, so I can’t stay and chat. Baby, I’ll see you tomorrow?” She slid her hand over Bennett’s abs to his pecs, and his eyes darkened.
“You guys avert your gaze. I’m going to kiss my fiancée good-night now.” He walked her to the door, and Val only had seconds to brace herself. She opened her door and tried to center her mind. This is not real. This is not real. This. Is. Not. Real.
But when Bennett dragged her to him and dipped his head, her lady parts forgot all about the mantra. Her libido screamed, Hell, yes, this feels real. His hand slid into her hair and he tugged gently as he anchored her head.
When his tongue delved in, the sweetness hit her first. And she wanted to indulge. Wanted to take her time and savor. He ratcheted up the heat by flexing the hand at her waist, and she gasped softly.
It was Trevor’s low whistle that broke the spell. When Bennett drew back, he looked like he was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. “I’ll see you later,” she croaked.
“Oh, you can count on that. Good night, Valentine. Sweet dreams.”
* * *
“Dude, you want to tell me what the hell that was all about?”
Bennett ran his hands through his hair as he tossed his bag on his living room couch. “Don’t even get me started.”
Trevor knew exactly where the imported beer was kept and helped himself. “No, no, I need to know. Inquiring minds and all that. Last I left you, two months ago, you were with that blonde in Sweden, but you were a confirmed bachelor. You were never, ever going for a girlfriend or wife. Now I come home and you not only have a fiancée—with no ring, might I add—but you also have some hot MILF looking like she wants to kill your fine-as-hell fiancée.”
Trevor shifted around Bennett, plopped himself onto his couch and kicked his feet up onto the low stainless steel coffee table. “Bennett, you have some ’splaining to do. And just FYI, not white ’splaining, either. You gotta get me to the nitty-gritty here.”
Bennett couldn’t help a chuckle. Shit, he’d missed Trevor. He sank down on the couch and grabbed the beer his friend held out. “The MILF, as you called her, that’s my new boss’s wife, Adriana Voss. She somehow has it in her head that this is the ride she wants to get on at the fair.” He gestured at his body.
Trevor nodded sagely. “That is a reputation well cultivated over the last decade or more. All women want to experience the Bennett Cooper ride.”
All except his neighbor. “Yeah, well, Voss Magazines is exactly where I want to be. So many options as a photographer. The magazine I want to do the most is obviously—”
“Earth,” his best friend finished for him. When Bennett cocked his head, Trevor merely shrugged. “We’ve been friends since you moved upstate with your aunt. You think I don’t know you want to be a wildlife photographer like your dad?”
That piece of knowledge both warmed Bennett and made him uncomfortable. He cultivated this facade—charming, funny, but not too deep or close—for years. It always unsettled him when people saw past that. Even if that person was Trevor.
“Yeah, I guess you would know that. Anyway. Adriana’s been getting a little too drunk at parties. Way too close. Things she says are starting to border on inappropriate. I’m no dummy, so I’ve been keeping a wide berth. I like my job. I’ve worked hard for my job. Anyway, Adriana crashes a meeting I had downstairs at True North and she wants to see the self nudes I did last year.”
Trevor hooted and cackled. “Bennett Cooper, you are a bad boy.”
“Dude.” Bennett shook his head. “There was no way around it. That woman is persistent as hell.”
Trevor leaned forward. “Yo.” He pinned him with a direct glare. “You tap that?”
Trevor and he had the same no-cheaters rule. Trevor had honed his after years of watching his poor mother get cheated on again and again by Trevor’s father, a former NFL player. “No, man, what do I look like to you? I’m a single man but I have standards.”
Trevor nodded. “How’d you escape with your virtue, then?”
Bennett took a long pull of his beer. “Uh, see, what had happened was...” He let his voice trail off as Trevor laughed. “Okay, so I had to think quick. She was coming up the elevator, wrapping herself around me boa constrictor–style, and Val was getting the brush-off from some dude, so I killed two birds with one stone. Walked right up to her and kissed her, pretending we were together.”
Trevor stared at him. Once again he was reminded of why his friend was so popular with photographers and designers. There was an intensity to him. But there was also a glimmer of mischief and humor just under the surface. Trevor fell back laughing so hard he clutched his sides.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I need your advice, and you’re mocking me.”
“Nah, man. For real, though. Only you would get yourself into this mess. I have always told you the D would get you in a heap of trouble.”
“This from the guy who slept his way through half the models in Barcelona.”
Trevor grinned. “What can I say? I’m pretty.”
“Pretty bastard.” Bennett laughed. “So, what do I do?”
His friend shrugged. “You and neighbor lady seem on good terms, and she saved your ass with that dinner invite.”
“Well, up until that day, we’d barely spoken. Turns out she needs a date to some wedding or whatever in a few weeks.”
“So quid pro quo then.”
Bennett nodded. “Yep. And maybe I’ll be out of here on assignment after I complete my end of the bargain, so no chance of her getting too attached.”
Trevor slid him a glance. “So the sparks I saw out there, that was nothing?”
“What? No. I barely know the woman.”
“She is choice, though. Looks like petite brown Barbie. I mean, did you see the rack on her? She could...”
Bennett loved Trevor. He was the brother he had always wanted. But the surge of jealousy had his jaw clenching and him shaking his head. “Don’t, Trev.”
His best friend’s forehead wrinkled. “Well, well, maybe that thing with your neighbor isn’t just a mutual favor after all?”
Bennett scrubbed a hand down his face. What was wrong with him? “No. I mean, yes.” Hell. “Look, she’s not all that bad. But she’s a nice person, so let’s cool it on the ogling her assets.”
“Fair enough.” Trevor nodded. “Backing off, but can I ask you a question, man?”
“Shoot.”
“What if it wasn’t just a quid-pro-quo thing? With her? What if...it could be something real? You give that any thought?”
“Of course not. I’m not looking for anything. You know that. I’m a free agent. I can’t be tied down.” He’d had maybe one three-month relationship in college. And another six-month stint right out of school, but neither one had stuck. His travel made it impossible. And to be honest, they were barely relationships. More like sex on tap with the occasional dinner or drinks thrown in. He’d never introduced a woman to Trevor or his aunt. He’d always known they wouldn’t be staying.
Trevor nodded. “I hear you. But maybe you like this one. I’ve been present for you kissing a lot of girls. Remember Mindy Tabsy in the seventh grade? I’ve never seen you be even remotely possessive about anyone. I’ll let it go, but I’m just saying. You seem different.”
“I promise you, Trev, I’m exactly the same.” Bennett was not a permanent kind of guy. And certainly not with someone as uptight as Val. Even if today there’d been nothing uptight about her.
Chapter 6
Focus was the name of the game. All Val had to do was concentrate, right? Except she could barely function. She’d slept like crap because she was thinking about Bennett. And his lips. And how insane he looked with his shirt off. Damn it. She dragged her attention back to her meeting with Mr. Rollins.
“Valentine, I’m sure you’ll see the contract with Emmerson Branding is a great deal. You’ll discuss their products, back them up. Your followers trust what you have to say,” said Mr. Rollins.
She looked over the contract again. It sure had a lot of zeros. But she wasn’t going into this blind. She knew how this worked. Emmerson Branding wanted a yes-person who was going to promote all of their products. She’d be nothing more than a spokesperson for every product they had. She’d built a reputation as a smart and savvy blogger with lots of followers. Every now and again companies wanted to pay her to promote their products. Lately she’d gotten more restrictive about what she would endorse.
While she primarily focused on food, she did still do lifestyle blogging.
“I’m sorry but these stipulations are too restrictive for me, and we’ve discussed this before. People appreciate that I’m telling them the truth. And with this deal, it requires I say nothing negative, so that’s just not going to work out. Because if the product tastes like an ammonia and vinegar cocktail, I’m going to say so. And they stipulate right here that I can’t say that. I can say nothing. But I can’t not speak the truth. Moreover, what’s really worrisome is that the wording is such that seems like they might compel me to say something. Something I don’t believe.”
When she’d started on Vid Tube in college, she’d mostly reviewed restaurants. Then hair products, makeup. All kinds of things that she used on a daily basis. Her passion, though, was food. She spent more time doing that than anything else. Before she knew it, her blog received so much traffic she was able to charge advertising fees.
Once out of school, she’d transitioned to lifestyle blogging, too. The women’s magazines came next and all she had to do was write about her experience. As gigs went, it was like a dream come true. Finally something she could use her uniqueness for, which didn’t include being locked in a lab all day. Most people like her, she heard about, worked in perfumeries.
“Mr. Rollins, unless you can remove these troublesome clauses, I don’t think we can work together. Which would be a shame, because I like a lot of what Emmerson is doing. But some products, on the other hand, simply don’t work, and I need the freedom to be able to say so.”