Dark Ties (Made Men 9)

Mr. Beck placed a better buffer from other workers than Nadia had done. Nadia had tried to pry her out of her closed-off shell, while he let her be.

Haley conveniently forgot that she had been mentally complaining that no one had made a friendly effort toward her, and her stomach began to feel queasy.

“You’re firing me,” she repeated, hoping, by some miracle, that he had changed his mind.

“Yes.” Mr. Beck nudged her plate closer to her. “Eat. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“Why?”

Haley thought she would melt in her chair when his lips curled in a sensuous smile. Food was the furthest thing from her mind as his hypnotic gaze froze her in place. The soft music playing in the background aided in the sense of intimacy that surrounded them. She had to force herself from being sucked into the lure he was casting her way.

Taking a bite of her sandwich, she managed to maintain composure. It wasn’t every day a man of Mr. Beck’s caliber made a pass at her, if that was what he was doing. She had never been in the position where it had happened to her before.

“You intrigue me, Haley. I’d like to get to know you better on a personal basis. I ethically can’t do that if you continue to work for me.”

“I’d rather keep my job.” Haley reached into her pocket to take out her inhaler, taking two puffs before she set it beside her plate in case she needed it again.

He had the nerve to laugh at her instead of being concerned.

“Don’t worry about my pride. I’ve never had a woman who needed to use an inhaler when I express my interest. You sound like you’d rather face a swarm of bees than become involved with me.”

“I would.”

“And the shots keep coming.” He laughed. “Relax, Haley. We can take it slow.”

Mr. Beck didn’t know the meaning of the word.

Haley chewed thoughtfully before swallowing. She could handle this. All she had to do was find the ulterior motive behind his request. Being a numbers person gave her the ability to analyze the odds that he was really interested in her. The odds weren’t in her favor.

“I’m going to be honest. I’m not interested in you.”

“I’m becoming aware of that fact. In reciprocation, I’ll be just as honest. I plan to change your mind.” He grinned. “Is there any particular reason you don’t like me?”

“I don’t like or dislike you. I actually haven’t given you much thought in a romantic sense.”

“Ouch.”

One characteristic about men that Haley did know, and she was as far from being an expert on that, but she did know that, when men were making a pass at a woman, they didn’t normally laugh at getting shot down.

Haley set her sandwich back down on her plate. “Please don’t act like you’re really interested in me, or say you’re being honest. I’m well aware that I’m not exactly the type of woman who would normally draw your interest.”

“Ah …” His sensuous smile widened in satisfaction. “If you know which type of women I normally date, then you must have given me some thought. I’ll take your interest any way I can get it.”

She stared at him skeptically. Something was off about his motives. Haley sensed it with every fiber of her being, and she was never wrong.

She loved orchids so much that she had studied them. Mr. Beck was made of one in particular. The orchid mantis. They lured their victims to their deaths. Without a doubt, Mr. Beck was gorgeous enough to attract attention from men and women. He had the It factor, which basically enabled him to bypass their normal safeguards.

“What motive could I have for lying? I have a healthy bank balance. I don’t need your family connections. It seems to me I’m closer to them than you are.”

“Mr. Beck, I’m not blind. I didn’t miss the way the maître d’ and the waiter looked at me. I get the feeling that I’m not exactly in the category of most of the companions you usually escort here.”

He refilled her water glass from the ice-blue bottle. “My name is Desmond.” With a wave of his hand, he motioned their waiter away. “If you have been offended in any way by their behavior, I will have to find another restaurant when I need to satisfy my love of Italian.”

She desperately wanted to slink out of the restaurant when the waiter blanched at Mr. Beck’s grim statement.

“They didn’t offend me, Mr. Beck,” she hissed, blushing as the waiter flashed her a hurt look before rushing off. Haley knew he was rushing off to tell Riccardo.

“Desmond,” he corrected her.

“Mr. Beck,” she bit out. “I was not complaining about—”

“Desmond.”

She curled her hands into fists at his attempted manipulation. Then she nearly laughed in his face. She had been schooled by a master. Desmond might be skillful, too, yet he wasn’t a master, not yet. In actuality, she was more comfortable in dealing with this situation. She had crossed a similar bridge before when she had been much younger.