Marry Me for Money (4 page)

“Why don’t you check now? Don’t you have access through your smartphone?” Kent tried to suppress laughter as his dimple flashed on his cheek.

I had a sudden urge to kick him under the table to erase that smug look off his face. Before I gave him the satisfaction of my face turning redder than it already was, I picked up my phone, gritted my teeth and mustered up a smile. “Let’s see.”

Everyone stared at me as I fidgeted with my phone. It took all the control I had not to call Jim every expletive in the book. I didn’t care that Plack Industries was his biggest client in his portfolio.

“I’m free next Wednesday and Friday,” I said, steadying my voice.

I told the truth. I could have lied, but I hadn’t. Jim could have easily checked my calendar at the office since he had access.

“Friday it is then,” Kent said, casting me a satisfied look. He winked in my direction when no one was looking and it took all my energy not to flip him the finger.

“Fine. Since that is settled, I need to get back to the office.” Mr. Plack stood up, and everyone else followed.

Finally, we exchanged our good-byes, and as I turned to face Kent, he slowly shook my hand, holding it a little longer than I wanted.

“Hope you don’t mind, but I will be picking you up at your office. It’s quite a drive to Bowlesville,” he said.

Friday morning, I jumped as the phone rang, and I stared at it like it was on fire. Caroline gave me the most perplexed look over her desk, and I returned an awkward smile before picking up the phone.

“Hi, One Financial. This is Beth,” I said in my usual cheery voice.

“I’m downstairs in the black Bentley. Meet me on Clark Street,” Kent said.

No,
Hello, how are you, good morning to you
?

I replied with, “Sounds good.”

On my way out, Jim stopped me, moving into my direct path to the elevators. “Hey, real quick, Beth. Not sure what is going on with Kent, but Mr. Plack is pretty happy that his son is visiting the plant. He thinks this might spark Kent’s interest about the business. I’d join you, but I already had a meeting planned. Thanks for taking one for the team,” he said, giving me a pat on my shoulder.

“Sure,” I said before walking toward the elevators and rolling my eyes behind his back.

I was irritated that I’d been put in this situation and was further annoyed that this felt like a first date. I told myself to be nice as the elevator descended. The trip to Bowlesville would take the whole day, and it was pointless to be aggravated. I tried to look at the bright side. Today, my eyes would get a break from staring at financial statements, annual reports, and the computer screen. I decided that was something to be happy about.

I stepped out on Clark Street and surveyed several men looking at the sleek, newly waxed black Bentley while women gawked at the Calvin Klein model sitting behind the wheel. Kent quickly stepped out of the driver’s side and opened my door.

The new-car smell filled my nose as I plopped myself down on the black leather seat of his fancy ride. He sat down, all alpha-male like, and placed one hand on the wheel. I noticed his pale yellow polo shirt had a small Burberry logo on his chest, the Burberry pattern peeking out slightly from underneath his collar.

For a brief moment, I felt like an actress in a movie as I sat there in my suit next to a model-looking male in an expensive automobile. In this movie, we were on our first date, heading out for a long drive down the Pacific Coast Highway. I couldn’t help but smile at my own imagination.

“Ready to go?” he asked, flashing a dimple on his cheek.

If this were a date, I would reach for his hand and hold it while he drove off, but obviously, it wasn’t.

“Yeah. Thanks for driving.”

I looked at his dark brown locks above his handsome face. There wasn’t a strand out of place. It really wasn’t fair.

“Let’s grab breakfast in an hour.”

He smiled lightly at me, and I naturally smiled back.

My mind wandered, and I was vaguely curious why he’d really invited me on this trip. Maybe he was interested in me. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Although he was obscenely good-looking, lazy and spoiled were definitely not my type.

We were stopped at a red light when he turned and looked directly into my eyes. He was so close that I could smell mint on his lips. I stared, motionless, as I was mesmerized by his long lashes that women everywhere would die for. When he leaned in even closer, I held my breath at his proximity.

“Listen,” he said, lowering his head toward me, “you’re not my type.”

I didn’t know what I looked like at that moment, but I knew how I felt. As heat rose to my ears, I wanted to crawl into a dark hole and hide. It was like that moment when you were walking down the street, staring at a handsome man who had waved at you, and you waved back because you thought he had been checking you out, but really, he’d been waving at the attractive girl behind you. Well, that was how I felt—but worse. I could have walked away from that guy on the street, but this guy was driving me to his father’s company about three hours away. So, not only was I unable to walk away from this situation, I was going to have to sit here and feel mortified for the next few hours.

Oh. My. Word.

I composed myself and mustered all I had inside. “You’re not my type either. You’re just my driver.” It was the truth. I faced forward as humiliation seeped further into my skin. “Go. It’s a green light,” I said as the stoplight changed.

I cleared my throat and sat straighter on my seat. “Mr. Plack, this is not a date. You invited me to visit your facility. I’m here strictly on business—to find out more about your operations and to report your needs back to the bank,” I said, trying to sound professional.

“Miss Casse, my facility?”

He suppressed his laughter, and in return, I turned beet red—again. At that moment, I hated him. I hated his pretty face, his stupid fancy car, and his ability to embarrass me so easily. Most of all, I hated that I had to sit in this car with him for the next three hours.

“Sorry, but the only facility I have is attached. As for my needs, the bank doesn’t have to know them. I have to remind you that we are going to my father’s company, not mine.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. “What’s your reason for inviting me to your father’s company again? You’re obviously not interested in it,” I snapped.

He lifted one eyebrow quizzically, and I stared at him again. I always wondered how someone could pull one eyebrow up while refraining the other one from coming up as well.

“Honestly, I was bored, and I thought, you know…maybe I’d get lucky.” He shrugged and faced the road. A small dimple emerged on his cheek as if his honesty shouldn’t affect me.

I couldn’t prevent my mouth from falling.
The nerve of this guy!
I’d never, ever met a male of this breed before, and I could feel myself getting warmer and warmer from irritation. I squeezed my hands together on my lap, resisting the urge to flip off this infuriating man in front of me. I bit my tongue before I said something I would regret and faced forward.

He shifted toward me as one side of his mouth lifted. “What?” he smirked.

And then, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I can’t believe you just said that. Who says those things? You can’t say stuff like that! You can think them, but you can’t say those things out loud. I mean, who does that?” I said, fisting my hands on my lap. “What type of girl gives it up that easily?”

“You’d be surprised,” he said. “You asked, and I answered. I was just being honest.”

I glared at him, stunned that he had the audacity to be so blunt. “There’s such a thing called tact. Ever heard of it?” I had the sudden urge to punch something, and normally, I didn’t have a violent tendency in my body.

“Listen, you’re a pretty girl, but you’re not my type. I didn’t mean to invite you to Bowlesville. I just mentioned it. I never thought my father would insist on me going. I want nothing to do with his business. Like I said, I was just bored.”

He was way out of line, and I wanted to turn around and go back to the office. I should have demanded that he take me back, but then I wouldn’t have anything to report to Jim or my manager. I needed this job. I’d wanted this job, and I’d worked hard as hell to get it. For the sake of having something to report to the team, I decided I could bite my tongue and suffer through his presence for one day.
It’s just one day.

“Good to know we are on the same page,” I said.

I faced the road in front of me as I promised myself I would ignore him the rest of the way. In the silence, Kent turned on the radio. I peered out the window as we hit the outskirts of the city while I realized that this was going to be a very trying day.

“We’re here. Let’s have breakfast.”

I felt Kent nudge me, and when I opened my eyes, his annoyingly perfect face was in my view. I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep. I touched my shoulder, glad that I didn’t have the regular drool pool next to me. I yawned, stretched my arms toward the sky, and released a sound as if a wolf were slowly dying. Kent studied me. Amusement appeared on his face, but I didn’t care.

As I wobbled out of the car, I took in my surroundings. The sign read
Benny’s Diner
. We were still two hours away from the plant, but I already felt at home. We were definitely in hick town, and the only reason I knew this was because I’d come from hick town. The Bentley proved to be the fanciest car in the lot, surrounded by worn-down pickup trucks and rusted vans.

Kent held the restaurant door open. “After you.”

I stepped inside. A redhead named Dilly greeted us and sat us at a booth. I surveyed the people around us. Two busy servers were hustling through the quaint, bare-walled restaurant. The aroma of greasy bacon filled my nose, and my stomach growled in response.

“The grits and pancakes are good here. That’s why I like this place. I remember coming here when I was younger,” Kent said, staring at me expectedly.

I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to say. Still offended by our earlier conversation, I remained silent and flipped through the menu.

“Okay, I know we got off to a bad start. I don’t know much about the company, but I know that the operations manager is around today, so he can answer all your questions.”

I regarded him for a few seconds and shrugged. “I’ve decided I’m not talking to you. I feel a headache coming on and I’m pretty sure it’s triggered every time you open your mouth.” Looking at the menu in front of me, I concentrated on what I was going to order.

A low laugh left his lips. “You’re very entertaining when you’re upset,” he said.

I could feel the calmness that had lingered from my nap slowly disappear. The fact that he found me comical started to get under my skin. I decided to turn the rudeness up a notch. “Listen, buddy, you’re not going to get lucky today with this chick, so quit pretending to be nice because I know you’re not the kind and considerate type.” I rolled my eyes at him and dropped my head back into the menu. With my fingers, I rubbed at my temple trying to ward off the oncoming headache.

After a beat, he said, “Don’t worry. Like I said, you’re not my type.”

I shot him a look, and the side of his mouth lifted.

“I call a truce. Sorry for being honest.”

“I just met you. I don’t care who you are, what you do, or what your type is,” I said, leaning in and trying to keep my tone down. “You want honesty? You’re self-centered and arrogant. You assume any breathing being with tits wants to sleep with you when in reality, they don’t. Guys who look like you are always so pigheaded, and that proves to me that you can judge a book by its cover.”

Kent’s laughter rolled throughout the restaurant. I scanned the room and noticed everyone’s eyes had turned to our table.

Picking up my glass, I pretended to drink water. “I don’t know what’s so funny. Keep it down.” I looked to my menu as my ears warmed, embarrassed by the attention he was causing.

“Beth, I knew this trip would be very interesting. I love your candor.”

This guy definitely had a screw loose, and I was now worried about my safety. I still had to sit in the car with this guy for a couple of hours, and then I would have to do it again on our way back.