Ben put his hands on his hips. “She’s just giving her a sandwich.”
Jake glared at Montana. “Fine. I was going to let her eat anyway.”
“So what did Tyrell say?”
“China’s not his first choice, obviously, but he’s willing to hear some numbers.”
“Two and a half million for a two-year deal. One-point-one million if it’s going to be one year.”
“You can do better than that. Marbury made two mill on one year.”
“Marbury is a beloved celebrity in Beijing. Nobody’s heard of Tyrell.”
“Make it one-point-three million.”
Ben thought it over. “Set up an in-person meeting, and I’ll consider it.”
“What, you don’t trust me to deliver the message?”
“Just set up the meeting.”
Jake rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna go take a shower. Come on, Wench #1, you’re shaving that bush of yours. I don’t like my wenches hairy.”
Claire dutifully scurried after Jake. Ben looked over at Montana.
Finally, they were alone.
CHAPTER NINE
Kimani watched Ben move over to the bar. She still didn’t know what to make of him. He had a very serious demeanor but seemed nice enough. After all, he had let her nap and given her clothes, and he hadn’t made her give him a blowjob—yet. But maybe anyone seemed nice next to Jake. And how good a guy could he be if he was willing to pay for sex? It wasn’t like a guy with his assets would have a hard time getting laid, which made the fact that he would pay for sex all the more revolting.
“Red or white?” he asked as he perused the wine bottles.
“I don’t drink.”
He looked at her. “At all?”
“I mean, I’m not much of a drinker. I drink a little now and then.”
He selected a bottle of Buena Tierra Vineyard from the Russian River Valley. He popped the cork. “Half a glass won’t hurt you, and it might take the edge off your nerves.”
He could tell she was on edge? She accepted a glass from him, reminding herself that she had a role to play, and maybe if she drank, he would, too. He seemed guarded, and she had to loosen him up to get him to talk. While in his room, she had gone through his luggage, but all she’d found were clothing, toiletries, and a laptop and iPad, both password protected.
“Thanks for letting me borrow some clothes,” she said after a moment of silence.
“If you need anything, let me know.”
“Thank you.”
Looking at the stool at the end of the bar, she wondered if she should sit down. She wanted to launch into a number of questions but didn’t want to appear too nosy.
He pulled the stool out for her. Gingerly, she sat down. He remained standing, his posture impeccable. It was too bad such a hot-looking guy was likely a lech, taking advantage of women who needed money.
She took a sip of the chardonnay and was immediately taken by its brightness and apple-blossom aroma.
“I usually prefer Italian whites, but the Russian River Valley wines have grown on me,” Ben said as he studied the wine’s coloring.
“Are you a wine aficionado?”
“No. Like you, I’m not much of a drinker. Sake is usually my alcohol of choice if I feel like drinking.”
She was glad to hear he didn’t drink much and hoped that meant he wouldn’t try to get her drunk. Silence followed as she wondered if she could ask to use his cellphone. She wanted to text or call Sam so badly.
“Something wrong?”
Realizing she had been fiddling with the stem of the wineglass, she met his gaze. She had to ask, and if there were repercussions, then she would know he was an asshole just like Jake.
“I was wondering...if I could use your cellphone?”
“You didn’t bring yours?”
“I think the auction staff might have taken it.”
“Why would they do that?”
“I don’t know, but both Claire and I had phones, and now they’re gone.”
He pulled out his cell, unlocked it, and handed it to her. She nearly jumped for joy. Should she call or text Sam? Since she couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t listen in on her conversation, texting would be safer. She started typing as quickly as she could:
Sam, it’s Kimani. Was bid on and taken to remote lakeside cabin. Trinity County, I think. My cell was taken. I’m okay at present. Will text again.
After pressing send, she breathed a sigh of relief. At least now Sam might have a way of tracking her down if he didn’t hear from her.
“Done?”
“Yes, thanks,” she replied, handing Ben back his phone, then realized she should have deleted the text.
“So tell me about yourself,” Ben said. “All I know about you is that you play ball, don’t drink much, and have a communications degree from Stanford.”
He wanted to know about her? At least he realized she was a human and not just an object for sex.
“Not much to tell,” she answered. “You seem like a more interesting person.”
He didn’t take the bait. “I’m not that interesting.”
She shook her head. “Typical Asian modesty.”
He raised his brows, and she immediately regretted her words.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend,” she apologized. “I meant it as a compliment. It’s just that a lot of my Asian friends never bragged. My sophomore roommate was from Singapore, and every time I paid her a compliment, she would talk about how terrible she was at something. It got so I was better off criticizing her than complimenting her.”
For the first time, she thought she detected a smile tugging at one corner of his lips. It made him look irresistible, and she had to remind herself that he just might be a better form of asshole than Jake.
“While modesty is valued in my father’s culture, it’s not universal,” Ben said. “The Chinese word for China, after all, is ‘Middle Kingdom’ because China believes it is the country between heaven and earth.”
“Are you from China?” she asked. He had a hint of an accent, but it wasn’t necessarily Eastern.
“I was born there, but my father sent me to boarding school in England when I was in my teens.”
“Where’d you go to college, before Stanford that is?”
“Howard University.”
She did a double take. “Seriously? You went to Howard?”
He smiled to himself. “To be honest, I did it to piss off my dad. He wanted me to go to Harvard. So now that I’ve told you something about me, it’s your turn.”
His stare pinned her in place. She took a gulp of wine. Somehow, they had fallen into easy conversation, almost as if they were on a date.
“What—what do you want to know?”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-five.”
“Are you a virgin?”
“Say what?”
“I don’t have the benefit of the questionnaire you filled out for the auction.”
“Oh.”
Here it goes. The sex.
“That’s kind of a personal question,” she stalled.
“This isn’t a job interview. Or a date.”