Page 29 of Rival Hearts
I’d never met a woman who was more infuriating and more attractive than Charlotte Reynolds.
I headed back toward the car, and Dave, the bodyguard our PR manager had insisted he bring along, opened the door for me.
I slid into the seat next to Ben, who had sunk into his seat, his long legs practically folded double so he could lounge like the teenager he hadn’t been in fourteen years.
“What the fuck was that all about?” Ben asked.
He looked up at me with his hazel eyes, his slim face curious. He had a shock of dark blond hair on his head that was mussed up and tousled like he’d spent the afternoon pushing his fingers into it.
“What was what all about?”
“That woman. You two looked like you were ready to kill each other… or fuck each other.”
Damn it, had it been that obvious?
“She’s an activist.”
“Yeah, I could tell. The gloves gave it away. And her picker scepter she left behind on the beach before she stormed down on you.”
I hadn’t seen that. I’d only noticed her when she’d been close by. Ben had had a nice vantage point from the car, where none of the reporters had been focusing their attention.
We’d been on our way back from a research and development center where the team was working on some new smart technology. Henry O’Connell had emailed the suggestion to Chris, and we’d decided to get on board.
While we were there I’d also raised the question of sustainability. The downside had been when the team had looked at me like I’d started speaking in a different language.
“She was just trying to convince me we’re wrong and they’re right,” I said.
“Did it work?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ben laughed. He was three years older than I was, but he’d been adopted last, when we’d all been teenagers. He’d fallen into our family troubled and giving us all a hard time, and not all of that had subsided yet.
“You looked like you wanted to be on the same side. Or rather… on top of each other.”
I snorted and looked out of the window.
“If you fuck this up, I’m taking over,” Ben said.
I glared at him. “I’m not fucking anything up. And you can back off, asshole.”
Ben held up his hands and laughed. “I’m just saying, I’ve seen what happens when a dame gets involved and that one there is a hell of a firecracker. Doesn’t look like you’re ready for this one.”
I bristled as the car slid through the streets of Newport. I was pissed off at Ben for challenging my position in the company.
He’d always been serious about vying for my job. He was the head of the private jet manufacturing side of things; I handled yachts, but he’d have loved to have both under his control.
Come to think of it, so would I, but that wasn’t the point. We each had a role to play in this company, and Ben had to back off if he wanted things to stay as friendly as they were.
And he had to keep his mouth shut about Charlotte. The more he pushed, the more pissed off I got, and that was a surefire way for him to know that there really was something there. Otherwise, it wouldn’t bother me at all.
Ben’s phone pinged, and his thumbs tapped on the screen as he replied, his focus finally diverted from me. I was grateful for whoever demanded his attention.
My mind drifted immediately back to Charlotte.
Her honey hair and deep eyes were hypnotizing; the way she used her mouth made me want to kiss her. And when she was angry, or flustered—or both—that just made me want to peel her clothes off her and get her under me, naked. I didn’t know what it was about her, but I wanted her.
She had this strange effect on me where she pissed me off completely with one or two sentences and made me lose all sense of self-control at the same time.
