Chapter 3: Flipped

Ivy sat as still as a statue in the JB Studio’s smart waiting area. Locked in her stressful thoughts, she didn’t notice the admiring glances she received from the men walking past.

In any case, she was inured to tuning out the unwelcome notice that her physical beauty attracted. Her dark brown hair was as waves of pure earth, softly reflecting the light in the room. Each strand moved freely from the air conditioner breeze, a compliment to her stillness.

One glance of those blue eyes told of a lifetime of struggle that had never been put into words. Jane often described Ivy’s eyes as fire flames dancing in water if one could imagine such a thing.

“Miss Benson, Mr. Logan will see you now!” a woman dressed in what could be described as too casual for a corporate setting announced. Everyone in the newsroom was all dressed in jeans and t-shirts, paired with either flats or sneakers. Ivy felt rather overdressed in her short red, tight dress and corset black heels.

The woman led Ivy past some cubicles and along a passage to a boardroom at the end of the corridor.

“Mr. Logan will be with you in a few minutes,” the woman informed her, ushering her towards a wooden table surrounded by beautifully upholstered seats.

Ivy had expected to find Andrew waiting in the boardroom, but she found that her rigid tension eased a little at the announcement and she took a seat.

The woman offered her refreshment and Ivy asked for a cup of tea. She thought that if she had something to occupy her hands she would be less likely to fidget.

As her tea was served, she glanced up and saw the man she recognized from his live broadcasts as Andrew Logan poised at the door watching her.

The camera didn’t do him justice. Ivy felt her throat close over, her tummy performing a cartwheel. The teacup she held rattled its betray on the saucer as her hand shook. She couldn’t swallow, she couldn’t breathe. In a black golf shirt and blue jeans that were irreproachably tailored to his lean, powerful physique and dark eyes glinting gold in the brightly lit room, Andrew Logan was an arrestingly handsome man.

She couldn’t tear her eyes off him as he strode towards her. Walking with the masculine grace teamed with a high-voltage buzz of raw sexual energy--- Ivy became aware of a more shameful reaction. Heat pulsed low in her pelvis and her face warmed.

“Miss Benson…,” Andrew said as he extended his hand towards her, his eyes never leaving hers.

Ivy stood up to shake his hand. Caught in the spell of the moment, she forgot that she still held the cup in her hands. The teacup cluttered and fell onto the saucer, pouring scalding liquid onto her dress.

Ivy swore inwardly.

“What is wrong with you, Ivy?” she silently examined herself.

Logan chuckled as he reached for a nearby napkin and handed it to her. Ivy dabbed at the spot where the tea had splashed, silently feeling embarrassed at how pathetic she was probably appearing.

She had meant to storm in here and prove to Andrew that she was not a weak woman to be messed with, instead, she found herself looking like a teenager with a pathetic crush.

Ivy inhaled and composed herself before extending her hand to shake his. Her hand felt hot against his cool one. That sudden physical contact took Ivy by surprise and she glanced up at him, bemused blue eyes connecting with the penetrating dark challenge of his.

Her heart was beating fast and interfering with her desire to show him a self-assured, serene exterior.

He was close enough for her to catch the faint, musky scent of his skin overlaid with a spicy tang of cologne. The masculine aroma was enough to send a powerful and primitive message to her nerve endings, leaving her senses spinning.

Shame and dismay at her sudden weakness clawed at her.

“I appreciated you meeting with me,” Ivy told him hurriedly.

“Humility from 'THE' Miss Benson?” Andrew raised his eyebrow.

Ivy frowned as she remembered why she was here and should not be having such feelings towards this rude, obnoxious man.

“It is called being polite! Maybe you could try it sometime!” Ivy snapped back at him before she could think better of it.

“Oh, there she is! I would not have expected any less from the revered tycoon herself!” Andrew replied.

Ivy had to remind herself to breathe as she fought the urge to throw an insult at this handsome monster. The meeting was not progressing the way she had hoped. In just a few seconds, their exchange had been less than cordial.

Just then another man walked in with a tripod and camera and began setting it up.

Ivy licked her lips and chuckled. Andrew had riled her up purposefully before the interview to make her look bad in front of his followers. She was not going to let him win.

Ivy smiled and settled back down into her seat. She laced her fingers together and regarded Andrew with cold disdain. The man was sneaky but she would prove to him that she would neither be shaken nor derailed from clearing her name and that of her company.

After everything was set up, Ivy found herself seated across from Logan as they were counted down to the beginning of the live broadcast.

“Today I have the gorgeous, Miss Benson. The first thing I am sure everyone wonders is, how is it possible that a stunning woman such as yourself, with self-proclaimed matchmaking abilities and an application that guarantees love for a price, can’t find love for herself?” Andrew fired.

“The world today is full of hatred. People are losing their belief in humanity. Is it so wrong for me to show the world that love still exists bountifully in this world? I highly doubt that my relationship status has any impact on my abilities to do that Mr. Logan,” Ivy replied calmly.

“I would never trust a doctor to cure me of a disease they too have and can’t seem to remedy for themselves. I think you are merely taking advantage of people’s hearts and livelihoods, whilst growing your bank balance. Yet you don’t believe in the product you are selling! You have over twelve branches across the country now, right?” Andrew pushed back.

“Take me as modern-day, Florence Nightingale. Helping wounded soldiers whilst still facing some forms of pushback from scornful people,” Ivy paused as she looked at Andrew emphatically, to let her point sink. “Although she repeatedly fell ill from the same fever that plagued her patients, that neither stopped her nor did it mean she was not capable of helping her patients, did it?” Ivy challenged.

Andrew’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He clearly had not expected that response. “Umm…history! You seem to be well-read, Miss Benson, may I call you Ivy?”

“You also seem to be well-read, Mr. Logan. Well-read about ME and my company, that is! It is quite flattering, however, my question to you is, have you ever used our services yourself for you to say with no doubt that they don’t work? I mean an award-winning journalist of your stature must have done thorough research before throwing allegations lest you be sued for slander! To answer your question, no! You can call me, Miss Ivy Benson----Miss Benson for short.” Ivy threw back