Beautiful Stranger

kinds of meetings before, mate. Someone starts talking about neurotransmitter somethings or chemical scaffolds and it’s like you’ve smoked a blunt. Just here to make sure you don’t geek out on us all and agree to some ridiculous budget.”
    “I do not geek out.”
    “No, of course you don’t,” I said. “And weren’t you the one going on about great contacts? I’ll spend some time chatting up Bennett while we’re here and kill two birds with one stone, yeah?”
    I couldn’t even swallow my own excuse; I wasn’t used to feeling this out of my depth with women. I certainly wasn’t used to sneaking around like a bloody teenager in order to catch a few minutes alone with one. This thing with Sara was engineered to be simple, but right now it felt anything but. A few hours ago I’d thought I had it all figured out: tag along to the meeting at RMG, use Bennett as an excuse should Will question, and if luck was on my side, run into Sara on a Monday rather than having to wait all the way until Friday. Spending time with her outside of our arrangement had spoiled me. Getting a wank in the back of a cab hadn’t hurt, either. But now I felt conflicted, wondering if I was asking for trouble by blurring the lines like this.
    The doors opened and Will turned to me. “As long as you understand that this is my show. You just sit there and look smart.”
    “Mr. Sumner, Mr. Stella,” the receptionist greeted us. “Nice to see you again.” She led us down the hall to the large conference room lined with windows, New York poised like a postcard on the other side. “Mr. Ryan is on his way down.”
    “Seems like a shame to spend your free afternoon herewhen you could be visiting your mysterious little sex kitten,” Will said when we were alone again.
    I walked over to the window and looked down at the traffic on the street below. “What makes you think she’s free in the afternoon?”
    Will began going through his papers and I took a seat at the long table, letting my mind wander to the last time I’d been in this building. I’d been chasing after her that day, too, though admittedly not that much had changed. Sure, I’d spent time with her, fucked her and tasted her and touched practically every inch of her body, but I was no closer to understanding what was going on in that pretty little head now than I was then.
    The sound of voices carried down the hall and I looked up just as Bennett walked inside.
    “Will,” he said, reaching out to shake his hand. “Thanks for coming down.” He gave me a curious smile. “Max. Wasn’t expecting to see you today. You joining in on our discussion of B&T Biotech?”
    It was impossible to miss the smug look of satisfaction on Will’s face. Both he and Bennett knew I’d only scraped my way through biochemistry by flirting with the professor, Dr. William Haverston. They loved to reminisce about the “boyfriend I almost had.”
    “He’s just full of surprises,” Will said.
    “He certainly is,” Bennett agreed. I hadn’t really considered the Bennett angle. It had been a few weeks since thefund-raiser, but I couldn’t help but wonder whether he knew I was here more for Sara and less for discussion of the latest in proteomics.
    “I think you’re both a couple of tossers,” I mumbled.
    There was a flurry of activity as the others filed in; unfortunately for my attempt at maintaining a cool front, Sara was the last through the door. She looked amazing, and as Bennett made the introductions, I let my gaze travel up the length of her body. Navy skirt, cute little pink sweater over the gentle swell of her breasts, and a neck I wanted to suck on for hours.
    “This is Sara Dillon, head of our finance department,” Bennett said to Will.
    Will stepped forward. “Yes, we’ve been exchanging emails. So nice to finally meet you, Sara. We missed each other at the fund-raiser last month, I think.”
    They spoke for a moment before she glanced my way, her eyes going wide for the briefest moment. She walked over, hand outstretched, and did not look entirely pleased to see me.
    “I believe we met at the fund-raiser,” she said, tight smile in place. “Max Stella, was it?”
    I took her hand, letting my thumb graze the inside of her wrist. “I’m flattered you remember, Sara.”
    She pulled her hand back, smiling blandly at me and moving to her seat.
    I moved on to Chloe, making small talk and accepting a vague invitation for dinner sometime in the next few weeks. It