Company Ink by Samantha Anne Page B

definitely worried that this situation with Ben, whatever it was turning into, was already becoming too much. Still, a tiny part of her wanted to see if the night could be saved, and she couldn’t decide if it was because she was genuinely interested in Ben or if she was just a glutton for punishment.
    Violet took slow steps into the condo, taking in its simple and comfortable vibe as Ben locked the door behind them. Ecru-painted walls with navy blue borders in the hallway and living room set a warm feeling in the apartment that, until a night ago, she had thought to be uncharacteristic of Ben. She took a step into the living room, enjoying his modern decorative taste as his couch practically beckoned her to give its overstuffed cushions a try.
    “Nice place,” she said as she glanced at the black-framed prints on the wall. “It’s huge.”
    Ben just tossed his keys onto the table, a now hopeless expression on his face. His voice flat, he simply said, “Thanks.”
    “Should I just go?”
    “I don’t know,” he answered. She appreciated his honesty … sort of. “I don’t want to let her ruin the evening, but … ”
    “Well, then don’t let her ruin the evening. Problem solved.”
    Finally, Ben smiled. “I owe you a talk, don’t I?”
    “You don’t
owe
me anything.”
    “You know what I mean,” he said. “I just feel like I should at least tell you as much as I can so that you have the option to run screaming if you want.”
    She kind of already wanted to run screaming. After one night, she believed she could tell where their connection was gravitating, and it bothered her. Ben wasn’t some guy she’d met randomly—he was a co-worker, a manager, a boss. She knew last night hadn’t happened for any reason other than the fact that their initial attraction was given a chance to heat up, but no one else knew that. Staying involved with him had the potential to destroy her chances with Wynne’s Kitchen if anyone found out. But, against her better judgment, a tiny voice inside urged her to move forward.
    “Why don’t you show me around?” she suggested, wanting to break the tension that had begun to rebuild between them. “Maybe we can have coffee—assuming your ex-wife didn’t take that, too?”
    Ben laughed and grabbed her hand. “Ah, so you
were
paying attention when I mentioned that last night. Come on, I’ll walk you through.”
    He led her down a long hallway decorated sparsely with photos of his family that varied in size. Violet was charmed by the love with which he spoke.
    “That’s my sister and mother,” he explained, his long fingers caressing the edges of the frames as he passed. “My dad and I when I graduated … There’s our last family get-together … ”
    They came to a cluster of doors at the end of the hallway, and he tapped on the first one to his left, muttering the word “office” before opening another door on their immediate right—“bathroom”—and finally pointing at a final door on the left.
    “That’s my bedroom, and here’s the kitchen.”
    He flipped a light switch and led her into the kitchen that sat at the end of the hall. Now it was time to be jealous. In a city where countertops and cabinet space were about as rare and precious as jade, Ben had apparently hit the jackpot. The spacious kitchen boasted the marble countertops and solid wood cabinets that Violet dreamed of having in her house whenever she perused home improvement catalogs; the appliances were top-of-the-line, and her palms itched at the thought of using them. She would kill for a kitchen like this, especially on nights when she moonlighted as a caterer and found herself elbows-deep in cookie favors or cheesecake pops.
    “Amazing,” was all she could say.
    From behind her, Ben placed his hands on her shoulders. “I’m glad you like it. How about I make coffee and you have a seat at the table?”
    She wasn’t going to miss this prime opportunity to get her bake on. “In the mood for