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"Horrible? No. Just don't let it go past a little flirting if that. Romance in the workplace is not smart, hun. Ever. You'll get burned. It's inevitable." His hands rested on her shoulders. "You know what happened with Mark and me."
She nodded. The fallout had lingered for months after Greg's five-year relationship with his boss had ended. Although their relationship was great while it lasted, the breakup was nasty and drawn out. Before they'd started seeing each other, Jewell had been the one to warn her friend against business entanglements. Now, the shoe was on the other foot.
Jewell's shoulders slumped. "I know. And I have no intentions to allow anything to happen. Besides, this is all one-sided anyway."
* * *
Benjamin watched the cars and buildings slowly move by from the back seat of his limousine. He could have driven to the dinner party himself and usually preferred to do his own driving, but not tonight. If he had to focus on navigating the crowded streets of Boston, he wouldn't be able to keep his attention on Jewell. He could talk as he drove and catch her signs here and there, but that wasn't enough.
He wanted to be able to look at her. It was impossible to take in too much of Jewell Kincaid. She was stunning, sexy, and enticing as all hell. At first, he dreaded the sweet torture of her presence. Now, he avidly looked forward to it.
Jewell certainly added spice and heat to his day. It was now something beyond the bland, sometimes monotonous routine of meetings and research. There was absolutely nothing routine about having her practically fall in his lap that afternoon.
Benjamin took a deep breath and clenched his fists in his lap at the memory. No woman, however wanton and inviting, had ever looked so tantalizing as Jewell while she fought for her balance. It was instinct that shot his arm out to support her, but the incredible feeling of her body kept it there. Her dainty hand on his thigh heated his blood until it threatened to blow unceremoniously out his ears. Despite his usual steel control, Benjamin's eyes were drawn to the deep valley nestled between her breasts. The conservative suits she wore did little to hide her feminine silhouette, and at the angle she leaned into him, the view was unadulterated.
He knew the tension of the moment wasn't one-sided. Jewell's cheeks had flushed, and her glistening eyes looked up at him with hesitation, but no irritation. When his gaze lowered to her beautiful breasts the grip on his thigh was an excruciating torture. Benjamin pulled her fingers away, not because he didn't want the contact, but because if it continued, common sense might not have prevailed.
Benjamin constantly reminded himself of who he was and who she was. They worked together. More than that, he was her superior within the company hierarchy. Bulwark didn’t have any firm personnel rules, but he had a rule never to become sexually involved with a coworker. It left nasty entanglements and lingering resentments when things ended. Many times over the years he'd witnessed peers who had given in to temptation, and paid later.
He shook his head. Even if Jewell didn't work for him, she probably had a boyfriend, anyway. Some smart guy out there held her heart, and several soft body parts, in his hands.
It was a bad idea to spend time with her outside the control-imposing walls of Bulwark. Benjamin convinced himself this still qualified as work, thus completely above board. The dinner party was to wine and dine some venture capitalists who had expressed interest in developing a working relationship with Bulwark and some of the other large trust firms in the region. If it worked out, this could bring millions of dollars in assets to the firm. Having Jewell with him would just make the evening easier. That was the only reason he'd asked her to come.
Benjamin shook his head. He knew better, but the excuse sounded good. How many countless parties and functions had he attended without someone to act as an interpreter? In the past, he had done just fine. Or at the least, he made damn sure he did just fine.
The limousine pulled parallel to the bumper-to-bumper cars parked along the street and stopped. Stephen turned and signed through the window that this was the address. Stephen would circle the block until Benjamin texted him to pick them up since there were no available spaces, let alone one large enough for a limo. Benjamin nodded and exited the car. Outside, he stood and looked around him. It was a nice neighborhood. The streets were lined with brownstones, most of which were probably converted to apartments decades earlier. He frowned against the heat outside the air-conditioned interior of the car. It was so damn hot in the city, and the humidity was smothering.
Benjamin checked the number on the front of the buildings to find Jewell's. Stephen had done well to drop him directly in front of it. He adjusted his tuxedo's black tie and bounded up the granite steps. A series of locked mailboxes and the control panel of an intercom system greeted him inside the front door.
He found the button with 'Kincaid, J & R' beside it. Benjamin frowned. J and R? Who was the R? Could Kincaid be a married name?
Just as quickly as the thought occurred to him, he pushed it aside and pressed the button with his thumb. His other palm covered the speaker. Seconds later, a slight vibration ran across his skin.
"It's Benjamin," he spoke towards the wall speaker. He moved his hand to the door. The handle pulsed in his grip and he pulled back. The door opened.
The halls of the building were stuffy and humid and the elevator was worse. Benjamin wiped away a light sheen of sweat from his upper lip by the time he reached the third floor. He read the numbers on the doors as he walked down the hall. Benjamin fought down the vicious clenching of his gut at the anticipation of seeing Jewell. He mentally scolded himself for such a foolhardy and uncharacteristic reaction. Attraction had never been this debilitating before.
The door opened before his knuckles hit the wood a second time. He tried to hide his surprise at the person standing there. She was maybe nineteen or twenty years old, with outrageously dark makeup, spiked, bright red hair, and an assortment of facial jewelry. Without even attempting to hide the fact, she took him in from head to toe and smiled. Her hand came up in an arched wave.
"She is almost ready," she stated. "I'm Ruby, her sister."
"Nice to meet you, Ruby," he said and extended his hand. "Benjamin Roth."
This was the 'R' on the mailbox. To his own surprise, he felt relieved. It wasn't a secret husband after all. Mentally, he jerked himself back. What did he care if she was married, or not? Involved, or not.
He pushed his hands into the front pockets of the tailored tuxedo slacks and stepped into the entry hall of Jewell's apartment. The interior was considerably cooler than the stuffy hallway. Immediately in front of him was the entry to a small kitchen painted in bright yellow and cream. The hall extended to his left and right. On the left, three closed doors lined the way. The end of the hall to his right opened into a roomy space that seemed to serve as both the living room and dining room.
The walls were laden with framed photographs of all sizes. Some hung in clusters, while larger portraits remained on their own. On the section of wall between the kitchen and living room hung one such frame. It was a professionally shot family portrait in a gold-painted frame. Ignoring Ruby's unwavering eyes, Benjamin examined the picture.
He assumed it was Jewell's family. She stood in the back of the clustered group. On one side stood Ruby, dressed only slightly less shocking than right now, but with bright teal hair. On the other side was a man who appeared to be in his early to mid-thirties. His hair was coal black, and his skin was dark in comparison to Jewell’s. She was shockingly pale beside him. Her red hair and emerald eyes stood out prominently. Neither Ruby nor the man had such intense eyes.
Jewell stood an inch, maybe two inches, taller than her brother. They weren't lined up by height. If they were lined by age, that would make Jewell the next to oldest. How old did that make her? Her résumé told him the years she attended college and the number of years of work experience she had behind her. Making an educated assumption based on those facts, he put her somewhere between twenty-seven and thirty.
Seated in the picture was an older couple. The man's hair was white, full and thick. He wore thick-framed glasses and an old-fashioned wool jacket. In his hand was a smoking pipe. On his knee sat a small sprite of a girl with white-blonde hair and pale blue eyes. Her skin was even paler than Jewell's, almost appearing translucent. Bright red lips smiled unselfconsciously at the photographer. Finally, seated beside the man was a delicate, frail-looking woman. Her salt-and-pepper hair was wound in a feminine, yet demure, hairstyle. At least one hand of each of her children rested on the matriarchal figure's shoulders.
They were the most diverse and unconnected group Benjamin had ever seen.
A movement down the apartment's hall drew his attention. All air sucked from his lungs as Benjamin caught a glimpse of Jewell as she came down the hall. In a tailored suit and pedantic hairstyle, she emanated sensuality. But now, in a slinky cocktail dress of brown silk that accentuated every feminine curve of her body, Jewell was a goddess.
