Working It by Kendall Ryan Page B

glass down on the table and summoned my courage. “Ben.” My tone came out too serious and his gaze flicked up to mine. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m probably a bit boring for your tastes.”
    Ben abandoned his casual posture and leaned in toward me. “I assure you; I’m anything but bored, Miss Clarke.”
    I twisted my fingers around the stem of my glass. “We both know I’m not a model. I’m not like the women you usually go out with.”
    “Emmy . . .” Ben set his glass down in front of him, his expression stern. “I don’t only date models. I actually typically don’t date models, so relax.”
    His little declaration did nothing to calm my anxieties. The fact that he only sometimes dated models was supposed to calm me? Ha! My insecurities were too deep rooted to vanish with that information.
    He leaned closer, fixing me with an intense stare. “How about I admit to a little secret? Will that make you more comfortable?”
    I stopped fidgeting at the table. I hated that I was being a girl, all self-conscious and nervous. “Yes,” I admitted.
    Ben took a sip from his glass. “Okay. Would it make you feel better if I told you I lost my virginity to a much older woman? My mom’s friend, actually.”
    Whoa . I couldn’t imagine losing my virginity to someone my dad’s age. Creepy. My first time was with my high school boyfriend in the back of his Jeep my junior year. My life was shockingly normal in contrast to his. I could only imagine the cougar-turned-seductress must have persuaded him. “Were you . . . okay with that?”
    “Yeah. She gave great head.” He shrugged, giving me a megawatt, panty-dropping smile.
    Okay then . No overanalyzing going on there. I guessed that was the difference between guys and girls. Girls were more emotional about sex, guys thought about the physical first. Good to know. I needed to remember that, keep my head about me.
    “So, are you into older women or did she, like, seduce you?” I asked, unable to hide my curiosity at how things went down. No pun intended.
    “It was one of my first overnight shoots and she was with me since my mom couldn’t be bothered to come. She’d been sending me signals all day, touching my arm, rubbing my shoulders, stuff like that. I was eighteen and horny . . .” He chuckled. “I couldn’t sleep, being away from home and all that, so that night I went up to her hotel room . . .”
    Damn . That was bold. He just showed up on her doorstep expecting sex? But I supposed when you looked like him you’d earned the right to be bold. Lucky day for that cougar, whoever she was. I was slightly jealous. But I had the man sitting in front of me, all hard-toned muscle, golden skin, and lips built for kissing. All she had was the memory.
    I couldn’t envision many women rejecting him—something about his confidence, his penetrating eyes, and his blunt mouth. . . . He had a knack for getting what he wanted; of that, I was certain.
    His little admission had done several things at once. Intrigued me, ignited a fire in my belly, and set me at complete ease. This man was good. Oh, he was damn good. “Bennn . . .” I whimpered.
    “Yeah, beautiful?” His signature cocky smirk was firmly in place.
    I squeezed my legs together. Ben using endearing nicknames was enough to undo me. I liked it a little too much.
    “Nothing,” I murmured. If I spoke just now, it wouldn’t be pretty. I’d either admit to wanting him or mumble something incoherently dumb. Best to keep my trap shut. I was convinced I was about to do or say something stupid, so I sipped my wine instead. Zip it, crazy lady.
    He refilled our wineglasses and continued to study me.
    After several minutes, I found my courage again. “So how did you get into modeling?”
    Ben met my eyes. “I grew up around it, but my mom wouldn’t let me get involved. She didn’t want me modeling, and wouldn’t let me until I was seventeen. Then she didn’t really have a