around him, her lips moving against his, their tongues twisting and tangling in sensuous surrender. As the kiss deepened, her chest felt tight, her heart started pounding, and her breathing came so fast she had to break the kiss to gulp in air. Stunned and confused, she moved away from him. Folding her arms, her hands clasping her forearms, she said with irony, "Have I made my point?"
Ben stared at her, eyes luminous in the subdued light. Then a muscle tensed in his jaw and he said, soberly, "I’ll see you Friday at four.” He left abruptly, pulling the door behind.
Kate stared at the door, bewildered by his hasty departure. She felt a nagging uneasiness that something profound had just happened, that their odd liaison had just moved to a new level. She didn't know whether she wanted to move with Ben to that new level though, but she sensed that if he wanted her there, she'd go willingly. Like a lemming following the piper to the sea.
***
After a week, Kate still couldn’t shake the expression in Ben's eyes after their heated kiss. Nor could she reason through his hasty departure. What she did know was that there was far more to Ben Stassen than she’d initially thought. In fact, he was the most complex and multifaceted man she’d ever met. He was also expecting her in his office at four o’clock, but she’d been puttering around doing menial tasks, so anxious about seeing him again after their passionate kiss, that it was already well past four.
Grabbing her portfolio, she left for downtown Portland. Twenty minutes later, as she stood in the elevator that would take her to the eighth floor of the lofty building and the offices of Stassen Sports Gear, she felt a curious fluttering in her stomach that had nothing to do with the fact that she’d skipped lunch. Something happened during the heated kiss that changed the dynamics of their peculiar association, and she had no idea what to expect from Ben now.
Whatever it was, she definitely did not expect to find him standing in his office, dressed in a tie-dyed tee-shirt and gray sweats, and wearing the most peculiar-shaped swim fins she’d ever seen. She found herself smiling. He didn’t smile back. Instead, he acknowledged her with a brief nod and said to his secretary. “Carla, get me a pair of women’s medium fins—” he turned, and his eyes ranged the full-length of Kate “—and a ladies Sealskin size six.”
“Any special color on the Sealskin, Mr. Stassen?”
Ben looked at Kate, held her gaze for a moment, and replied, “Green.”
Kate’s smile shriveled. She eyed him with wariness. “I hope you don’t expect me to do what I’m thinking,” she said, nervously fingering the top button of her shirt.
“Test the products?" Ben said. "I told you we’d be doing that,”
“You said motorcycle helmets, not bathing suits,” Kate said, the timbre of her voice cranking up a notch.
“I said products,” Ben retorted. “And we won’t be testing bathing suits, only swim fins. You can test in the raw, swim in what you’re wearing, or change into a Sealskin. Your choice.”
Kate glared at him. “And where, exactly, do you intend for me to test your swim fins? At your cozy little hideaway in an oversized hot tub made from a giant steam boiler!?”
One corner of Ben's mouth tipped up, then flattened, as if he were holding back a smile, and he said, “We’ll be testing them in the pool on the roof of the building."
“We?”
Ben shrugged. “How else can I get your input?”
Carla returned with a thin silver foil box tucked under her arm and a pair of the peculiar swim fins hanging from her fingertips. “Will there be anything else, Mr. Stassen?” she asked.
“Yes. Tell callers I’m testing equipment and won’t be back for a couple of hours.”
Kate looked at Ben, nonplussed. “Two hours to test a pair of swim fins?”
“Two hours for you to test, evaluate, and pitch me ideas on how best to promote them." Ben slid the box with the
Ben stared at her, eyes luminous in the subdued light. Then a muscle tensed in his jaw and he said, soberly, "I’ll see you Friday at four.” He left abruptly, pulling the door behind.
Kate stared at the door, bewildered by his hasty departure. She felt a nagging uneasiness that something profound had just happened, that their odd liaison had just moved to a new level. She didn't know whether she wanted to move with Ben to that new level though, but she sensed that if he wanted her there, she'd go willingly. Like a lemming following the piper to the sea.
***
After a week, Kate still couldn’t shake the expression in Ben's eyes after their heated kiss. Nor could she reason through his hasty departure. What she did know was that there was far more to Ben Stassen than she’d initially thought. In fact, he was the most complex and multifaceted man she’d ever met. He was also expecting her in his office at four o’clock, but she’d been puttering around doing menial tasks, so anxious about seeing him again after their passionate kiss, that it was already well past four.
Grabbing her portfolio, she left for downtown Portland. Twenty minutes later, as she stood in the elevator that would take her to the eighth floor of the lofty building and the offices of Stassen Sports Gear, she felt a curious fluttering in her stomach that had nothing to do with the fact that she’d skipped lunch. Something happened during the heated kiss that changed the dynamics of their peculiar association, and she had no idea what to expect from Ben now.
Whatever it was, she definitely did not expect to find him standing in his office, dressed in a tie-dyed tee-shirt and gray sweats, and wearing the most peculiar-shaped swim fins she’d ever seen. She found herself smiling. He didn’t smile back. Instead, he acknowledged her with a brief nod and said to his secretary. “Carla, get me a pair of women’s medium fins—” he turned, and his eyes ranged the full-length of Kate “—and a ladies Sealskin size six.”
“Any special color on the Sealskin, Mr. Stassen?”
Ben looked at Kate, held her gaze for a moment, and replied, “Green.”
Kate’s smile shriveled. She eyed him with wariness. “I hope you don’t expect me to do what I’m thinking,” she said, nervously fingering the top button of her shirt.
“Test the products?" Ben said. "I told you we’d be doing that,”
“You said motorcycle helmets, not bathing suits,” Kate said, the timbre of her voice cranking up a notch.
“I said products,” Ben retorted. “And we won’t be testing bathing suits, only swim fins. You can test in the raw, swim in what you’re wearing, or change into a Sealskin. Your choice.”
Kate glared at him. “And where, exactly, do you intend for me to test your swim fins? At your cozy little hideaway in an oversized hot tub made from a giant steam boiler!?”
One corner of Ben's mouth tipped up, then flattened, as if he were holding back a smile, and he said, “We’ll be testing them in the pool on the roof of the building."
“We?”
Ben shrugged. “How else can I get your input?”
Carla returned with a thin silver foil box tucked under her arm and a pair of the peculiar swim fins hanging from her fingertips. “Will there be anything else, Mr. Stassen?” she asked.
“Yes. Tell callers I’m testing equipment and won’t be back for a couple of hours.”
Kate looked at Ben, nonplussed. “Two hours to test a pair of swim fins?”
“Two hours for you to test, evaluate, and pitch me ideas on how best to promote them." Ben slid the box with the
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