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“And of course you want your charity to win.” She waited to see what he’d say. Based on what she’d read in her research a Benfield could give his charity a hundred times what the show was going to contribute and never even miss the credits. Pocket change for them. And the Benfield Family Foundation sponsored a number of charities Sectors-wide anyway.
“Of course.” He matched her smile.
“Do you dance?” Micki asked.
“In my circles it’s required to learn the basic social dances at an early age. There are always balls and events at which one will be expected to participate.”
Rising, Micki gestured at him. “Well, get up.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I need to see what I have to work with.” Micki held her breath to see if he’d comply but after a moment Josh left his chair and came to join her, standing close enough that his no doubt expensive cologne, mixed with a subtle scent of his own, intoxicated her and his warmth set off a corresponding warmth deep inside her core. I’m in trouble now. Oh this was bad, very bad. The man was affecting her more than any male she’d ever encountered before. Struggling to maintain her outward composure, she tugged him closer, put his arm around her waist and raised her hand into the correct dance position for one of the ancient social dances he’d hopefully been made to learn.
Automatically he clasped her hand and as she began to hum a basic tune, he pulled her against him and stepped off into the first moves of the dance. “I didn’t think we were allowed to dance together until production officially began,” he said, staring at her with his intense brown eyes. “Are we breaking the rules already?”
She shrugged. “Bending them slightly, maybe. No one would ever mistake this for a rehearsal hall and we’re not dressed for doing choreo.”
He twirled her into a turn, Micki instinctively following his strong lead, and then a few steps later a back bend, pulling her into frame again so quickly she nearly stepped on his foot.
Micki realized they’d stopped moving, although they remained locked together in front of his desk. She pulled away and instantly he released her.
“What’s your verdict?” he asked with a grin, seating himself on the edge of the desk. “Do I meet your no doubt exacting standards?”
She scooped up her purse and headed for the door. “You’re clearly better than the washed-up comedian I expected to be assigned.” Struck by a thought, she pivoted on one red spiked heel. He was watching her, eyes gleaming with open male appreciation. “How are you with antigrav?”
“Did my assistant bring you to my office via the antigrav lift?”
She nodded.
“That should tell you what you need to know. I have no issues—do you?”
Other than a bad knee and a few other dancer style aches and pains, no. She repressed the truth. Josh Benfield didn’t need to know anything about her problems. “I love antigrav and we’re required to do one dance number in the weightless environment.” She gave a little wave and resumed walking across the priceless carpet to the door. “See you at the big reveal.”
Once she was in the outer office and his door slid shut behind her, Micki let out a deep breath and tried to calm her quaking nerves. This was going to be a long seven weeks all right but not for the reasons she’d originally expected. Josh Benfield was going to be a dream to dance with and a severe temptation besides.
Sydni was watching her with poorly concealed amusement. “Are you all right, Ms. Allwell?”
“Peachy. Gotta go work on new dances to make your boss look good.” Micki headed for the hall and the gravlift, anxious to get back to her safe place on the Nebula Zephyr. Sydni fell into step with her.
“I have to escort you to the door. I’ll be on the cruise too, you know, as well as a number of other staff,” she said.
“Really?”
“The work of the Benfield Corporation goes on around the clock, no matter what’s happening on any planet or ship,” Sydni said with a hint of pride. “Mr. Benfield will be carrying his usual corporate load of duties while we’re embroiled in this show.”
“He does know he has to make time to rehearse with me, doesn’t he?” Micki asked with concern. The man might retain a good memory of the basic stuff he learned as a rich kid, but he’d have to pick up much more sophisticated choreography to be able to perform before an interstellar audience. The work would take time, lots of time.
“It’s been added to his calendar.”
Micki didn’t much like the sound of their rehearsals being one more item on a crowded calendar but decided there was no point in making a fuss about the issue right now. Wait until they were all on the ship and actually involved in the ISD schedule and then she’d make as much noise as she had to, to get him to practice sufficiently.
The guards watched her walk to the door impassively and as she walked through the portal, her visitor’s badge poofed into grey dust floating away on the air. A huge black groundcar waited at the curb and the uniformed human driver leaning against the side smiled at her. “Mr. Benfield ordered me to drive you to the spaceport, Ms. Allwell.”
As she settled into the luxurious back seat, with its bar and other appointments, Micki thought she could get used to this but needed to remember it was all strictly temporary.
Seven weeks or less.
And no matter how much he made her tingle in sensitive places, this was strictly business. She didn’t need another brief fling in the tabloids as the generational billionaire’s arm candy. This opportunity was going to bring her bigger opportunities in the entertainment world—it had to, it was probably her last shot—and she wasn’t going to mess up her chance for any man.
