The Fix Up Page 3

  “The boys from Kleinberger wanted to hit the ball around a little while they’re in town,” his father continued, picking up Ben’s paperweight and tossing it from one hand to the other. “Good opportunity for you to get acquainted, let them see Langley Enterprises is going to be in good hands with you at the helm of domestic relations.”

  “And you think my golf swing is the key to that?”

  His dad frowned and stopped tossing the paperweight. “As opposed to your shining personality?”

  “Point taken,” Ben said, annoyed the barb stung as much as it did.

  “You’ve gotta step up now, son,” Lyle said, his voice turning serious. “It’s time to stop screwing around with your face buried in a book and prove you’re a real Langley.”

  “Sure thing, Dad,” he said, wishing he sounded more like an authoritative leader and less like a nerdy middle school kid who’d dropped his science project in the parking lot. One more thing Holly could have helped him with.

  “Look—I really need to go over these spreadsheets before the end of the day,” Ben said. “I think I’ve pinpointed a couple areas where I might be able to save Langley Enterprises several hundred thousand dollars in translation and localization for our foreign sales.”

  He watched his father’s eyes light up, and he felt a rush of relief at having finally found a common language with the old man.

  “A few hundred thousand, eh?” He clapped Ben on the shoulder again and grinned. “Atta boy. You keep at it then. You’ll be at the event tonight, right?”

  “Right. I’ll be there.”

  “Not alone, I hope. Wouldn’t be my son if you don’t show up with a woman on your arm.”

  “Right,” Ben said, willing himself not to think of Holly again. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Go, Benny Boy!” If his dad looked pleased at the thought of money, he looked like he might be on the brink of wetting himself at the idea of Ben having a date. “Make sure she’s a looker. Appearances matter in business, you know. Gotta show the Kleinberger guys you’re the sort of man who strolls in with a good-looking female.”

  “In that case, maybe I could borrow my buddy’s cocker spaniel,” Ben offered. “Daisy could always use a good walk.”

  “Don’t be cute with me. Dating an attractive woman is a smart career move. You think I got where I did by making dumb business decisions?”

  The fact that his father regarded the opposite sex as a business commodity was depressing as hell to Ben, but now didn’t seem like the time to argue.

  And yeah, he had to admit he’d noticed those lush curves under Holly’s blouse and the way her eyes widened as he’d touched his lips to hers. He remembered the urgent way she’d pressed her whole body against him when he’d kissed her.

  Yet another reason to regret that she’d rejected his offer.

  “Here’s another business tip from your old man,” his dad said, and for a startling moment, Ben thought his father planned to offer him kissing pointers. But no, Lyle was still talking business. Of course. “To get a woman like that,” his dad said, “you’ve got to wine her and dine her. Take her out someplace nice, buy her jewelry every now and then.”

  “I’ll take that under advisement,” Ben said, thinking of his mother. He remembered walking into the living room at fifteen to see her looking sadly down at a diamond tennis bracelet.

  “That’s nice,” Ben had said, hoping to cheer her up.

  “Thanks,” she’d said, swiping at the corner of her eye. “Your father can’t make it for our anniversary dinner, but he sent this.”

  Ben had nodded, taking a closer look at the bracelet and realizing it was the same damn one he’d sent her the year before. And the year before that. And the year before that.

  Even then, he’d known his mother would have given all the diamonds in the world for a quiet night on the sofa snuggling with her husband eating popcorn and watching movies.

  Truth be told, that was Ben’s idea of a perfect evening, too.

  “So you’re sure I can’t get you out on the golf course with the Kleinberger execs?” his father said.

  “I’d love nothing more,” Ben lied. “But business calls.”

  His dad frowned and shook his head, but he must have seen there was no changing Ben’s mind. “Okay then. See you in the Jefferson Room at seven thirty.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  Another lie so bad it almost hurt his tongue to spit the words out. God, this was going to be harder than he thought. The words coming out of his mouth sounded nothing like his own, but they seemed to be a requirement of the job. How could he convince people he was this powerful CEO if he didn’t believe it himself?

  He waited until his dad strode from the room before slouching back into his chair. He turned back to his laptop and pulled up a spreadsheet on Langley’s international manufacturing operations.

  But he didn’t find the usual focus that came to him when he immersed himself in data and spreadsheets. Maybe it had been wrong to take this CEO gig. Maybe he was trying to be someone he couldn’t be even if he wanted.

  His dad’s words echoed in his head. You’ve gotta step up now.

  Ben knew exactly what he meant by that. He’d seen Lyle demonstrate it at the country club countless times, a glass of scotch in one hand, the other hand greeting strangers with an anaconda death grip as his dad flashed his most charming smile.

  God, there weren’t enough Crest Whitening Strips in the world for Ben to pull off that smile, much less the handshake. Or any of it, for that matter. What the hell was he doing here?

  You’re seizing the chance to run this company your way. You’ve just gotta hone your leadership skills first.

  Ben had no intention of following the Langley tradition of being an all-around grade-A asshole when it came to human relationships, especially with women. That seemed to be par for the course among Langley CEOs, and Ben had spent years watching his dad break his mother’s heart again and again with short-skirted secretaries and questionable business trips and long work hours that left no time for them to spend any quality time together.

  If that was part of the job, Ben would just as soon light his desk on fire and crawl under it right now.

  But he could do it his way, he was almost sure of it. He just needed charm and people skills to pull it off. Holly had seemed like the perfect person to help him out with that, but she’d turned him down. He’d gotten off the phone with her hours ago, but he still couldn’t shake her final words to him.

  Good luck!

  “I’ll need a helluva lot more than luck if I have to do this on my own,” he said aloud, then grimaced. Talking to himself was probably one of those habits he’d need to break in his new position. It was one thing to sit at your home office all day muttering about non-oxide ceramics. It was another to do it with a secretary sitting fifteen feet away and a whole building full of people occupying the nine floors below him at the Langley headquarters.

  The phone rang, and it took him a few beats to realize it was his personal line and not his desk phone. He fumbled the iPhone out of his pocket, knocking a clump of nachos into his lap in the process.

  “Parker,” he said, reading his buddy’s name off the screen as he lifted the phone to his ear. “I was just talking about you. Well, your dog.”

  There was a long pause, and Ben thought he heard his best friend give a snort of dismay. “If Daisy is your idea of a good topic of workday conversation with business executives, I shudder to think what you’ll come up with for cocktail party banter. Squeaky toys? Root canals? The mating habits of woodland beetles?”

  Ben sighed. Normally, Parker’s ribbing wouldn’t bother him. Hell, he’d probably dish some right back at him. But this day was turning out to be anything but normal. He looked at his watch, and it dawned on him he’d missed his regular workout date. “Sorry I couldn’t make it at lunch,” he said. “My gym time is going to be a bit limited for the foreseeable future.”

&nb
sp; On the other end of the line, his best pal snorted. “It’s your first day as CEO and you’re already turning into your dad?”

  Ben grimaced, wishing the words didn’t make him want to stab himself in the eye with his letter opener. “That’s kind of the point, isn’t it?”

  “Then it’s my job to balance you out. I just signed us up to volunteer with that charity group that teaches boxing to underprivileged kids. You’re welcome. And you’re sparring with me and Mike and Justin at noon tomorrow, so don’t bail again.”

  “Fine,” Ben said, glancing at his calendar. He should probably protest, but beating the hell out of a punching bag or one of his sparring partners was the only thing that kept him sane sometimes. He kinda liked having a hobby that kept him in shape and kept him from descending into total pocket-protector geekdom.

  “So are you wearing ugly golf pants and barking orders at strangers yet, or have you not fully transitioned into becoming your dad?”

  “I’m working on it,” Ben grumbled.

  “You don’t sound so sure of yourself.”

  “Oh I’m sure of myself. One hundred percent.” Words said as much to convince himself as Parker. “I’m actually looking into hiring someone to help me out a little.”

  “You mean like a life coach or something?”

  “Or something,” Ben agreed, trying not to feel too glum that Holly had turned him down. Hopefully he could find someone else.

  I don’t want anyone else.

  Ben cleared his throat. “Look, I’ve gotta go. I have to get ready for this big event with the Kleinberger execs. But I’ll do my best to make it tomorrow.”

  “Twelve thirty,” Parker said. “Be there.”

  Ben hung up and shoved his phone back in his pocket. He turned back to his computer, eager to return to the sea of numbers and data that always gave him comfort. He’d just flicked his screensaver off when he heard footsteps.

  His secretary’s voice came from the intercom. “Ben? There’s a Holly Colvin here to see you.”

  A satisfying jolt of energy coursed from his gut to the rest of his extremities, and he took his hand off the keyboard long enough to punch the intercom button on his phone.

  “Really?”

  “That’s what she said.”

  Hot damn. “Thanks, Carol. You can send her in.”

  He turned back to his computer, determined to finish one last calculation. He could hear footsteps behind him, but he had to tally up the figures for the—

  “No,” the voice said behind him. “Are you kidding me? No. Just—no!”

  Holly stood in the doorway, studying her new client. At least she hoped he’d be her new client.

  Please say the offer is still good…

  Right now, though, she had more pressing concerns. Ben had kicked off his shoes, which revealed one brown sock with red and blue stripes and one black sock with gray checks. The only thing about them that matched was the fact that both had holes in the toes.

  His shirt was even more wrinkled than it had been in the furniture store, which was saying something. There was a smear of something orange on his sleeve, which she guessed might be cheese from the half-eaten plate of nachos on the edge of his desk. His hair was rumpled and his glasses were slightly askew, though those details gave him a sexy professor vibe she wished wasn’t so damn hot.

  This is bad.

  He hadn’t been wearing a jacket when they’d met earlier, but she could see one hanging on the back of his chair, its corduroy sleeves and beige elbow patches making her cringe at the thought that he’d worn it anytime in the last decade.

  Really bad.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  “I honestly have no idea where to start.” She looked at her watch. “The event is at seven thirty?”

  “Yes.”

  “You weren’t planning to go there straight from work, were you?”

  “Of course. Is there a problem?”

  “A problem,” she repeated, too dumbfounded by his appearance to sugarcoat her words the way she normally would with a new client. “You’re planning to show up at your first corporate event wearing holey socks, a cheese-stained shirt, and a jacket that looks like you kidnapped a retired librarian and ripped it off his back?”

  “The librarian’s tied up in the coat closet,” Ben deadpanned, and Holly tried not to notice how stupid-sexy it was. “I promise I’ll let him out after the event.”

  She shook her head. “Ben, you can’t attend a corporate function like that.”

  He cocked an eyebrow and gave her a smile that was half puppy-dog hopeful, half self-satisfied smirk. God, she wished that weren’t so hot.

  “Is that why you’re here?” he asked. “You changed your mind about taking me on as a client?”

  “Yes,” she said. “If the offer still stands.”

  “It stands. It definitely stands. What changed your mind?”

  Holly hesitated. I’m desperate for money was hardly the right answer. Neither was, I’m pretty sure I can keep myself from groping you.

  She cleared her throat. “I don’t like to turn down clients with such an urgent need.”

  “I definitely have an urgent need.”

  You and me both, buddy.

  She folded her arms over her chest and tried to look professional. “First things first,” she said. “Your clothes.”

  He looked at her for a few seconds, like he was considering this new option. He seemed to come to a decision, then, because he looked down at his shirt and shrugged. “I think there’s a spare shirt stuffed in my gym bag.”

  “You have an iron in there, too?”

  He gave her a funny little half smile that made her feel like she’d just swallowed a ball of sunshine.

  “I’m getting the sense you have concerns about my wardrobe.”

  She sighed. “Ben, it’s important to make a good first impression. What sort of impression do you think you’re going to make if you walk in there looking like a homeless guy?”

  “That I care more about the company’s bottom line than what I’m wearing?”

  “A nice thought, but no.” She shook her head. “A man walks into a room looking like he dressed himself while blindfolded and people are not going to think, ‘Wow, I bet he’s really good with numbers.’ They’re thinking, ‘Wow, do I trust a guy to put together a million-dollar business deal when he can’t even put together a matching pair of socks?’”

  “Ouch.”

  He didn’t look terribly pained, but she softened her tone anyway. “Look, you’re not paying me to pat you on the head and give you a lollypop. You’re paying me to fix what’s not working.”

  “Is it too late to get the lollypop?”

  “Ben—”

  “I know, I know.” He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I get it, I do. I need help. That’s what I’m paying you for.” He nodded at the folder she’d forgotten she was holding. “Is that the contract?”

  “Yes.” She held it out to him, and an electric current sizzled up her wrist as his fingers brushed hers. “Speaking of paying me, I took you up on your suggestion to triple the regular fees, due to the unusualness of the situation.”

  She held her breath, waiting for his reaction. He opened the folder and studied the forms, his amber-flecked eyes moving back and forth over the words.

  Feeling nervous, Holly swallowed hard. “The retainer is high, but I can assure you it includes a comprehensive action plan beginning with—”

  “It’s fine,” he said, pulling a pen out of a dirty-looking coffee mug and scrawling his signature on the form. Holly stared at his hands, wondering if he’d ever played football or wrestled grizzly bears. He had huge hands. Man hands. Big, beautiful, magical hands designed for gripping and squeezing and stroking and—

  “Shall we get started?”

  He looked up at her, and she tried to remember what they were talking about. “Wh—what?”

  “With the action plan,” he said, cocking his head to
the side and studying her with an expression that made her wonder if he knew she’d been fantasizing about his hands all over her body. “The terms you’ve outlined here are acceptable, and I’ll have a check to you first thing in the morning for the first half. I’m ready to get a jump on this.”

  So am I, Holly’s body telegraphed as her gaze fell to his hands again.

  Fortunately, her brain had the good sense to override it.

  “Yes. Absolutely, of course.” She cleared her throat and met his eyes. “First things first, Ben. Let’s get you out of those clothes.”

  Chapter Four

  Holly glanced at her watch as she leaned against the wall outside the dressing room at the trendy men’s clothing boutique. She’d texted Miriam from the elevator at Ben’s office seeking emergency advice on men’s business attire.

  Luckily, her business partner was also First Impressions’ resident fashionista. Miriam had come through in spades, texting oodles of shopping tips, the name of her favorite boutique, and a dozen screenshots of men’s clothing.

  He’ll look super-hot in this, read the text accompanying one photo.

  That’s the understatement of the millennium, Holly thought as Ben stepped out of the dressing room and ambled toward her. He wore a charcoal and turquoise stripe worsted wool Sartorial two-button suit from Armani, something Miriam had expressly told her to look for. The salesman had been happy to comply, and from what Holly had seen of the price tag, she couldn’t blame the guy for getting giddy.

  But she couldn’t blame herself, either, for wanting to climb Ben like a cat tree now that she’d seen him in the suit. He looked sexy, refined, and utterly, deliciously handsome.

  Keep your eye on the prize.

  This was a business relationship. Nothing more. That kiss notwithstanding. Not that she hadn’t replayed it in her mind a dozen times in the last hour, his mouth hot and demanding on hers as his hands moved up her body…