A Matter of Trust: London Calling Book One (8 page)

A throaty laugh rumbled free. “No, but it’s bad enough you drive an Aston Martin. Honestly, Bennett. How obvious.”

He clutched his chest. “You don’t like my car? That wounds me.”

“I doubt your ego is even dented.”

“I don’t believe it. Look me in the eyes and tell me you really don’t like my car.”

Devon walked closer to look him dead in the eye. “I really don’t like your car. It’s vulgar.”

Bennett staggered dramatically before recovering himself. “You lie. I’ve seen the secret caresses you give the armrests. The flirty glances you give my bonnet.”

She burst out laughing. “Oh all right! It’s a nice car.”

“
Nice?
Chrysler sedans are
nice
, Devon. Aston Martins are luxury performance vehicles. We need to work on your education.” He gave the door of the helicopter a light tap, nodding to her. “Now stop avoiding it and jump in.”

***

Bennett helped Devon with all the unfamiliar straps before handing her the headphones. He gave the pilot a thumbs up, seeing her clutch her hands together as the rotors started to spin. The helicopter took off with a slight lurch and sharply banked into the bright sunshine over London.
 

He watched her, his eyes hidden behind silver rimmed aviators. They’d spent endless hours together over the past weeks, learning each other’s habits and routines. He’d searched, wished for something that would lessen his fascination with her. But his desire burned, simmering under a reserved mask of gracious professionalism.

He ached, yearned for her.
 

The more he came to know of her, the more he wanted. She was viciously smart with a fascinating wit that never failed to disarm him. He reminded himself he didn’t date staff but stopped trying to remember why.

She gasped, marveling at the panoramic view before them. Turning to him with a wide smile, she exclaimed, “Look! Isn’t it magnificent?” She turned back to the windows, joyfully taking in the scene.

“Yes. Magnificent,” he said hoarsely. The sun had caught the chestnut in her hair.
 

She swiveled, her brows raised. But he was looking out the windows, same as she had been.

***

On the roof tarmac below them, Natalie watched as Bennett and Devon flew towards the office in Leeds. They’d laughed and joked. Even though they kept a respectable distance, she’d noticed the way they leaned in and gazed at each other, especially when they thought the other wasn’t looking. As Devon prepared to board the helicopter, Bennett’s hand had hovered behind her back, silently protecting her in case she slipped.
 

Natalie closed the rooftop door, hugging herself in the sudden draft of the staircase.
 

She tried to recall if Bennett looked at her the way he did Devon.
 

Had he ever?

***

Back in London after a long day in Leeds, Bennett held out a hand to help Devon down from the helicopter. She only hesitated for a second, but it was enough to set his teeth on edge. She’d been difficult all day. Now she physically shied from him? His brows lowered as palpable tension crackled where their palms met.
 

She jumped down with a sigh, pulling away to head for the rooftop stairwell at a quick clip. Bennett easily caught up, despite her long-legged stride. With a grim smile, he held the door while she stepped inside, poised to flee. He made a snap decision.

“Right. How long before you’re ready to step back out for some dinner?”

“Dinner?” The horror on her face might have been funny in other circumstances.

“I’m taking you to dinner. A business dinner, Devon.” He sneered slightly, gratified when she visibly bristled. “Be assured that I am ready for this day to end as much as you but we still have a few things to wrap up. Now can you freshen up here or do you need to stop off at home first?”
 

She snapped, “Here. I’ll be ready in fifteen.”

“Good. I’ll meet you in your office.”

Bennett stalked off, perverse satisfaction curving his lips. Despite everything, he wanted more time with her. Her distant politeness and that prissy Southern tone she adopted when she was trying to hold him off ignited his baser instincts.
 

It was only dinner. He was in control. He would
stay
in control.

***

They were back outside on the pavement before he spoke to her again. “There’s a place not far from here that’s good. I own a stake in it, as a silent partner. I’d like your opinion, in fact. Are you okay with walking?”

Devon was irritable. Miles out of her depth, she’d spent all day resisting Bennett and her reserves were low. There’d been enough tension in the helicopter on the way back to London to cut it with a knife, and yet whenever she’d looked at him, he’d been as cool as ever. In the meantime, she felt hot. Bothered.
 

“Yes, I can walk. Why wouldn’t I?”

He just looked at her, not responding to her sharp question, which only exasperated her further.

“And how do you know they have anything I want to eat? Maybe I have allergies.”
 

He pressed a hand to her shoulder, pausing her outside a newly opened gastropub. “Stop it. You’re being difficult and churlish. I expected more grace from you.”

She flushed. As a southern woman, manners were important. So were apologies. “I’m sorry.”
 

“Accepted. Now can we get on with it?”

She nodded and he silently ushered her inside. After settling into a small booth in the chic, yet intimate dining area, her stomach growled its approval. His lips curved, creasing his cheeks with humor.
 

“I guess we’ve shared enough working lunches for you to know I don’t have allergies.” Shamefaced, she grinned in return.
 

“I suppose we have. But we’ve never shared dinner. And never alone.” He ordered a bottle of red just as the waiter stopped by to prattle off the daily specials along with recommendations for wine and beer. The pub seemed to specialize in small plates, but also served entrees.
 

Devon looked around, taking in the dark surroundings relieved only by the flickering warmth of candles on tables and amber sconces along the walls. It was a close atmosphere, where tables and booths crowded people together. Couples whispered while the discreet sound of sultry blues murmured in the background.
 

It was hardly the place for business. It was certainly not the place for her to cool off and resist the man whose knee now casually bumped her own. She narrowed her eyes on the wine as the waiter reappeared, uncorking the bottle and pouring a small amount in a glass for Bennett.
 

He waved him along, declining the sample, and took the bottle to pour both glasses, handing one across to her.
 

She took a cautious sip, finding it excellent, before sliding it just to the side. Lightly, she drummed her fingers on the table, before asking, “So, won’t it be a bit difficult for us to work here? I mean, it’s dark.”

“Let’s order food first, shall we? I’m starving.”

Taking an impatient breath, she perused the menu. Normally, she loved to sample several different items, but there was no way she was sharing food and trading bites with Bennett. She’d stick to an entrée.
 

“If it’s okay with you, I’d like to order some small plates.”

Looking up from her menu, she met his level look with one of her own. “Of course.” Snapping her menu closed, she said, “You pick. I like everything. Surprise me.”

With an unholy gleam in his eyes, he ordered a variety of shared plates, sexy finger foods prepared with an aim to engaging all the senses in pleasure. “I love good food. My granddad taught me to cook, and I like to indulge my palate.” Taking a sip of wine, he asked, “Do you like to cook, Devon?”

Dumbly, she stared. “I have no idea. I never learned.”

“If you want to, let me know. I’ll line you up with my grandfather. He’ll teach anyone he can get his hands on.” He smiled, his eyes running over her. “So your mother was no southern domestic diva?” He laughed, but she froze at the mention of her mother, causing him to stop. “Devon? What is it?”

She shook her head, forcing a smile. “Nothing. No, my mother wasn’t.” She stuttered to a halt. “Well, I should say that I wouldn’t know if she was. She left when I was very young. And my father raised me.”

Instinctively, he started to reach for her, but thankfully the food arrived. Devon breathed deeply, swallowing and fidgeting to unroll her silverware from the napkin. Taking an exaggerated interest in the server, she listened as they explained each dish. She determinedly avoided Bennett’s eyes. Finally, she felt his attention ease.
 

Viewing the plates, she tried to spear a marinated olive with a small pick when he stopped her by laying a light hand on her wrist. “Just pick it up. Like this.” Taking the olive, he popped it into her open mouth before she could protest. She felt his index finger reach inside to the soft interior of her lip before retreating. Unconsciously, she chased it with her tongue.
 

Bennett’s lips tilted in a faint curve while his fingers briefly tightened on his wineglass. Taking a long sip, he set the glass down, seemingly relaxed.
 

Confused, Devon mirrored his actions and drank the earthy Italian red he’d selected to have with their dinner. A light flush warmed her cheeks, but she knew it was from her overactive response to him feeding her. Had she imagined that shared moment of temptation? Glancing over, Bennett lolled indolently against the back of the booth.
 

Apparently.

She popped a ham croquette into her mouth, appraising him. Her teeth broke through the crispy breading to sink into the soft creaminess of the cheese and ham interior. She moaned lightly in approval.
 

Bennett watched with fierce concentration. Locking his eyes on hers, he squeezed lemon on the plate of raw oysters they’d ordered. He selected one before tipping it back to slide into his mouth. Devon observed, fascinated, as the muscles in his throat moved as he swallowed.
 

She reached for her wine again, only to find her glass empty. She stared for a second, blank.

“Let me get that for you,” Bennett neatly poured more wine for her before lightly topping off his own.

He met her eyes, his mouth tilting up on one side.
 

Devon cleared her throat. “I want to hear more about your grandfather. Didn’t he found Sterling International?”

Bennett paused for long moment, considering. Then he surprised her by launching into a thumbnail history. Fifty-odd years ago, Charles Sterling had entered the world of banking and finance as an entrepreneur with a small inheritance. He’d succeeded more wildly than anyone expected, but gladly handed over the reins first to his own son, then Bennett when Charles II died unexpectedly and early in a car accident with his young wife. Bennett had only been in his early twenties, just out of university.

Devon clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh God, I’m so sorry, Bennett. I didn’t know. I assumed your parents were still alive, retired somewhere.” At his nod of acknowledgment, she continued, “And your grandfather? Did he come back out of retirement when they passed?” At his look of confusion, she clarified, “To help you?”

“No. Nan was too distraught after losing her only child. She needed him more.”
 

Devon wondered whom Bennett had needed. Who had been there for him?
 

He continued, “Then she fell ill. I always felt it was the grief, but of course that’s ridiculous. Cancer was the culprit. She fought it like a warrior for three years, but eventually lost the battle. She needed Granddad. And he was there.” Whenever he mentioned his grandfather, the words spoke of respect and friendship. His voice, the tone, spoke of love.
 

Devon leaned forward, whispering. “I don’t know what to say, Bennett. You’ve suffered so much loss. I don’t think I could stand it.”

Bennett straightened, leaning forward to top off her wine again and add a splash to his. “You could. We do what we have to and we adapt. It’s the human condition.” He didn’t drink, just idly twirled the stem of his glass. “But that’s enough about me. Tell me about yourself.” If he noticed her abrupt withdrawal, he ignored it. “Did you move around a bit growing up?”
 

In the process of reaching for her wine, Devon’s hand stopped for one beat before resuming.
 

Eyes narrowing, Bennett continued, “Or did you stay in one place?”

She shifted in her seat. “We moved a bit. Why?”

“Sometimes you have more of an accent than others. I guessed that’s because you didn’t consistently live all your life in the South. Am I right?”

She chuckled, carefully not meeting his eyes. “Well, that depends on what you define as the South. And that depends on where you are in the States. It’s all relative, you see.” She swirled her wine, but also didn’t sip. “Did it bother you being an only child?”

“No. I attended boarding schools so had lots of mates. I never really thought about it, to be honest. Then my parents died and it was all far too late.”
 

Devon cringed. She wanted to shift the conversation away from herself, but she’d been thoughtless. Guilt flushing her cheeks, she reached across the table, forgetting her vow not to touch.

“I’m sorry, that was insensitive.”

He squeezed her fingers before quickly releasing them. She had one moment to miss the contact before he questioned her again.

“So tell me more about your family.”
 

His midnight gaze was intent. Picking up her dinner napkin, she began to restlessly pleat it between her fingers. “Why?”

“Because we’re enjoying some friendly after-dinner chat.” His voice hardened. “Like civilized people do, Devon.”

She twisted the pleats into a tight spiral. She had little doubt how uncivilized Bennett Sterling would be if he had any idea about
her
family. Who she came from. What she was. “I think we should get to work. That’s what we came here to do, didn’t we?” Seeing his brows lower, she pushed further. “Didn’t we?”