Chapter 68 68
Justin rode the elevator upstairs. The game had changed the instant Sherry walked into that bar. She was no longer a wide-eyed coed. She was a powerful businesswoman—confident, cool, in control. Other men in the bar had taken notice, too—she was formidable for her business pedigree, coming from one of the most successful entrepreneurial families. Her beauty only upped the intimidation factor, with thick brown hair falling around her shoulders, a dancer’s grace and posture, and lips that suggested sweetness and hinted of a storm.
Sherry's lips had fallen on his once—a few scorching heartbeats still emblazoned in his memory. The way she pressed against him had resonated to his core. She’d been so eager to surrender her body, so ready to explore his. Turning her down, saying she was too young and he’d destroy his brotherly friendship with Adam if things went further, had been the upstanding thing to do.
He had no way of knowing that Adam would betray him months later by ending their business partnership, making millions from the sale of the company they’d started together and publicly bashing Justin's contribution to the project. The words Adam had said could never be erased from Justin's memory. It was his fault that he never asked for a partnership agreement. And to think he’d trusted Adam...that had been his first mistake.
He keyed into his suite—quiet, sprawling luxury, echoing his private existence at home in Olkfield. Outside of a maid or a cook or an assistant, there was never anyone waiting when he walked through the door at the end of the day, and that bothered him. At thirty six, he was beginning to seriously consider getting married and having children, especially as an only child, but the problem was that he'd never found anyone he liked or loved enough to go into the commitment with. Most people were nothing but a disappointment—Exhibit A, Adam Bennet.
A business proposition. What was Sherry's angle? It’d be brave of her if it involved peacemaking. The feud between himself and Adam only continued to get worse. It seemed as if the more successful Justin became, the more Adam said crude things about him at cocktail parties and in business magazines. It was impossible not to engage, but it had also occurred to Justin after the last barbs were exchanged, that words were no way to go. Actions spoke louder. He’d no longer tell the world what he thought of Adam. He’d show them.
Justin picked up the line to the twenty-four-hour concierge.
“Good evening, Mr. Covington. How may I assist you?”
“Yes. Can you please send up a bottle of wine?”
“Yes, Mr. Covington. We have the 2012 vintage availabile. I trust that is acceptable?”
“Of course. Send it up right away.”
After room service delivered the wine, Justin removed his suit coat and tie. He was essentially shedding his armor, but it would make things more informal. If the Bennets were aware that a takeover was in the mix and Adam had sent Sherry to spy on him, this would make him seem less threatening. The War Chest investors had been careful, but some tracks were impossible to cover.
The suite doorbell rang. Justin had given his personal assistant the night off, so he strode through the marble-floored foyer to answer it. When he opened the door, he couldn’t help himself—he had to drink in the vision of Sherry. A stolen glimpse of her in the hotel bar had nothing on her up close. Her sweet smell, her chest rising and falling with each breath, sent reverberations through his body for which he was ill prepared.
“May I come in?” she asked. “Or did you answer just so you could slam the door in my face?”
The look in her eyes said that she was only half kidding. He had to give her credit. It couldn’t have been easy to break the silence between himself and the Bennets.
“Only your brother deserves that treatment. Not you.” Justin stepped aside. He’d forgotten about the sultry nature of her voice, the way it made parts of him rumble and quake.
“I won’t take up your time. I’m sure you’re busy.” She came to a halt in the foyer, folded her hands in front of her, playing the role of steely vixen all too well.
“Sherry, it’s eight o’clock at night. Even I don’t schedule my day nonstop. The evening is yours. Whatever you want.”
The more time he spent with her, the more sure he could be of her motives.
She straightened her fitted black suit jacket. The long lines of her trousers showed off her lithe frame. “You sure?”
“Please. Come in. Sit.”
Sherry made her way into the living area and perched on the edge of the sofa. Palm trees fluttered in the wind outside. The moonlight filtered through the tall windows.
“I came to talk about Sunny Side.”
Of the things Justin thought Sherry might come to discuss, he hadn’t considered this. “I’m impressed. I thought I’d managed to keep my investment role at Sunny Side quiet. Very quiet. Silent, in fact.” Exactly as he hoped he’d kept his BenTel investments. Was he losing his touch? Or was Sherry that good?
“I read about them on a tech blog. It took some digging to figure out where their money was coming from, but I eventually decided it had to be you, although that was just a hunch. Thank you for confirming my suspicions.” She smiled and cocked an eyebrow, showing the same satisfied smirk her brother sometimes brandished.
The times Justin had wanted to knock that look off Adam’s face was countless, but on Sherry? Coming from her, delivered via her smoky brown eyes, it was almost too hot to bear. He was intrigued by this sly side of her, more self-assured than the coltish twenty-year-old he’d first met. “Well done. Would you like a glass of wine? I have a bottle on ice.”
Sherry hesitated. “It’s probably best if we keep our conversation strictly business.”
“There’s no business between you and me without the personal creeping in. Your family and I are forever enmeshed.”
She could turn this point on him later if she learned of the War Chest’s plans, not that he cared to change a thing about it. The ball was rolling.
Sherry nodded in agreement. “How about this? Talk to me about Sunny Side and I’ll stay for a glass of wine.”