Confessions: He's the Rich BoyHe's My Soldier Boy

by Lisa Jackson

  Carlie closed her eyes and concentrated on the feel of him. His lips, his hands, his tongue. Liquid fire swept through her veins as he began to unbutton her blouse. She knew she should stop, that making love to him was dangerous, but her heart persuaded her to take a chance. The smell of burning wood, the feel of his hands against her flesh, the musky flavor of the wine, the intoxicating feel of him shoved aside all her doubts.

  She wound her arms around his neck, kissing him hungrily, her tongue anxiously mating with his. Her blouse parted and he nuzzled her neck, dipping low in the dusky hollow between her breasts, trailing his wet tongue over the silky lace of her bra.

  Arching upward, she felt his hands span her waist, holding her against him, making her aware of the hardness swelling against his jeans.

  “You make me crazy,” he whispered as he breathed across her nipple.

  She could barely speak and when she did, her voice was unrecognizable. “Please,” she begged, “please, Ben, don’t stop.”

  “Never.” He shoved her blouse from her shoulders and stripped her of her bra, until the firelight played upon her naked torso and he stared down at her nipples. “So incredible,” he murmured, running a work-roughened thumb across one dark peak. He lowered his head and sucked gently and she wound her fingers in the thick strands of his hair.

  His fingers found the waistband of her jeans and dipped low over her buttocks.

  Like lava, liquid fire swirled deep within Carlie and she found the buttons of his shirt. Her blood pounded in her ears as he stripped her of her clothes and he kicked off his jeans, pausing only long enough to reach into his pocket for a plastic-wrapped packet of protection.

  “I’ve dreamed of being with you again,” he admitted, holding himself above her, lowering his head to kiss her lips lightly, or brush his tongue across her nipples.

  “So have I,” she said over a suddenly thick throat.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Absolutely,” she cried.

  His lips clamped over hers and after a moment’s hesitation, he entered her. Not the high-speed, quick thrill of a teenager, but slowly and surely with long strokes that took her breath away.

  Carlie clung to him, moved with his intimate rhythm and stared into the magnetic beauty of his hazel eyes. The pupils were dilated, his dark skin shiny with sweat as he moved more quickly, taking Carlie on a roller-coaster ride that soared upward, faster and faster.

  “Carlie!” he cried, as if he’d found something he’d lost for so long a time. “Oh, Carlie.”

  In a flash of brilliance, the world exploded behind her eyes. Her body convulsed and he shuddered against her. The world seemed to tilt a little as his weight settled comfortably over her and she wrapped her arms around his muscular back. I love you, she thought miserably, knowing that loving him was her burden in life. God forgive me, Ben, but I love you!

  She would never tell him, of course. But as she clung to him and the fire hissed softly, she realized that she would never love another man.

  Chapter Ten

  AN AFFAIR. SHE rolled the thought around in her head and stretched, the back of her calves rustling the cotton sheets. She’d never believed in affairs; she preferred being single or the permanence of marriage.

  Ben was already up. She heard him rattling around in the kitchen and smelled the rich scent of brewing coffee. Stretching, she relived their night of lovemaking that had taken place first, in the living room in front of the fire and later, in here, this tiny bedroom that was large enough for only a double bed and a chest of drawers. Sparse. Utilitarian. Perfect.

  She looked out the window and saw ice collecting on the thin panes. Frost covered the grass in the yard and a wintry sun was just peaking over the eastern hills. She found Ben’s dark blue terry-cloth bathrobe and wrapped it around her middle, cinched the waist and rolled up the sleeves. Barefoot, she padded into the living area.

  “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he said.

  He looked so good. His hair was still damp from the shower and a knowing smile played upon his thin lips. Yes, she could fall in love with him too easily. “I don’t feel very beautiful.”

  “Take my word for it. Coffee?”

  “How about a shower first?”

  “All yours,” he said, and she made her way to the bathroom.

  She’d just ducked her head under the hot spray when she heard the door open and the curtain was thrown back. “I lied,” he said, grinning devilishly as he stood stark naked on the tile floor. “The shower isn’t all yours. You’ll have to share.” He stepped inside and took her into his arms and while the sharp needles of water sprayed her back and mist rose around them, he made love to her again.

  He touched her water-slickened breasts, kissed her sleepy eyes and opened up that special part of her, touching her with strong fingers, forcing her to moan and gasp until at last he became one with her.

  She clung to his slippery body as wave after wave of hot desire caused her to cry out. When he finally finished, he held her close, the water beginning to turn cold as it ran down their bodies.

  He kissed her until her teeth began to chatter, then shoved the curtain back. “How about coffee now?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.

  “Sounds like heaven.”

  Within minutes she’d towel-dried and dressed and was cradling a cup of coffee as she sat in front of the fire warming her feet. They ate toast and scrambled eggs and, since it was the weekend, didn’t worry about work.

  “Rory works Saturdays,” she explained when he asked.

  “Unfortunately I’ve got a seven-day-a-week job.” But he didn’t rush out the door. Instead, he rubbed a kink from his back and asked, “What about that call from the modeling agency?”

  “What about it?”

  “Aren’t you tempted to go back, make a big splash, prove that you’ve still got what it takes?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “But you’re not sure?”

  “I think I am, but I’ve thought that before.” She stared deep into his eyes. “I don’t have any plans to go back to New York, Ben, but I can’t predict the future.”

  They sat together on the couch and the phone began to ring. Ben didn’t bother answering, but listened to the messages as they were recorded. His foreman, Ralph Katcher, called and his sister, Nadine, left a message about a few last-minute changes to her plans, but Ben didn’t move. They sat side by side on the couch, sipping coffee, talking and laughing and tossing a tennis ball to the dog.

  Carlie told herself to stop dreaming, but she felt as if she’d finally quit running and come home. She let herself think that maybe they had a chance of a future together—if not marriage then a long-term affair.

  The word that she’d avoided for so long didn’t seem so wrong when she considered that the affair would be with Ben. One day at a time, girl, she cautioned herself. Don’t get ahead of yourself. Remember what you just told him. Who knows what the future may bring?

  The phone rang again and Ben nuzzled her ear. “Maybe we should get out of here. Go on a picnic.”

  “It’s February.”

  “So what?”

  “We’d freeze.”

  “I can think of ways to keep warm.”

  The answering machine picked up the call and after the tape of Ben’s voice instructed the caller to leave a message, a woman’s voice filled the room.

  “Ben? It’s Tracy—”

  Carlie’s heart slid to the floor and beside her, Ben tensed.

  “I was hoping to catch you at home.”

  She sounded vastly disappointed.

  “Anyway, I left a message yesterday.... Maybe you didn’t get it, but I was hoping that we could do something together. Randy has been talking nonstop about you since the last time you came over and I could make us lunch...or whatever. He’s, um, got Little League tryouts this morning at the park in just a few minutes.... Oh, well, don’t worry about it.” There was a weighty pause and Ben shifted restlessly
on the couch. Tracy added, “Randy misses you,” before hanging up with a click that seemed to echo through the cozy little house.

  Carlie glanced at Ben and noticed that the fun-loving glint in his eyes had disappeared. His mouth curved into a frown and he shoved an impatient hand through his hair.

  “Tracy Niday,” Carlie guessed.

  “Damn.”

  A deafening roar seemed to fill her ears. “You’re... seeing her?” All Carlie’s dreams shattered in that second when she saw the answer in his eyes. Her heart cracked. Good Lord, what had she expected? That he was in love with her? That because they’d made love, he wasn’t involved with anyone else? Her world tilting wildly, she set her empty coffee cup on a table and stood. “I...I think I’d better go,” she whispered, hearing her voice as if from a distance. Bitter disappointment flooded through her.

  Strong fingers clamped around her wrist. “Let me explain.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “Of course I do.” He pulled her down to sit next to him. “I’m not dating Tracy, if that’s what you’re thinking. I only saw her a couple of times.”

  Oh, Lord!

  “She waited on me when I had lunch at the Buckeye and then she invited me over to dinner. That was a couple of weeks ago.”

  “And you haven’t seen her since?”

  He rubbed his jaw, as if guilt were eating him up. “No,” he admitted, “but I plan to.” He looked at her and must have seen the disappointment in her eyes. “For Randy. Kevin’s boy. He...uh...he needs a man. You know, to toss a football, to talk about baseball with, to fix his bike, to—”

  “To be a father,” she said and hated the dead sound in her voice. Randy is Ben’s nephew. The poor kid doesn’t have a dad. He just needs a man. But, why, oh, why does Tracy have to enter into it? She hated her jealousy. It made her feel so small. Tracy was a struggling single mother, for crying out loud, and yet Carlie felt this overwhelming need to hold on to Ben with all her might—to possess him! But he wasn’t a man who could be possessed. That’s why she loved him. Oh, God, she’d never admitted that horrible fact to herself before!

  “I’m not Randy’s father,” Ben said as his gaze searched her face.

  “But Kevin was,” Carlie whispered and everything became clear to her. She could never have Ben, not while Tracy was interested in him. Maybe Tracy only wanted to see him for the boy’s sake, but Carlie had a gut instinct, feminine intuition, that Tracy wanted Ben for herself. Carlie couldn’t blame her for that. Didn’t she feel the same?

  “Yes, Kevin was.”

  “So you need to see him.”

  “I think so,” he admitted, still scowling into the fire.

  Carlie didn’t have the heart to tell him to stay away from his nephew. She didn’t doubt that the boy needed a father figure in his life and Ben was the most likely choice. She saw Ben as Tracy saw him: strong, good-looking, responsible and sexy. Fresh out of the army, starting a new business and a new life, he’d be the perfect catch.

  Carlie’s heart squeezed. “Look,” she said, suddenly yanking her hand away from him as she scrambled to her feet, “I really have to go.”

  “You’re angry.”

  “Just confused.”

  He stood and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, as if afraid she might disappear. “I don’t feel anything for Tracy, you know that. She just happens to be Randy’s mother.”

  Her voice failed her for a moment and tears burned at the back of her eyes. “I understand,” she whispered, though her voice threatened to crack.

  “Do you?”

  “Mmm. We’re not teenagers any longer. A lot has happened. I have to share you.”

  He held her at arm’s length and shook his head. “No way,” he said before dragging her close again and kissing her long and hard. Tears, unbidden, streamed from Carlie’s eyes. He didn’t understand—not the way she did. He was naive enough to think that they could still be lovers while he had dinner at Tracy’s and played ball with her son. Thoughts she’d never before experienced raced through her mind and she felt guilty for her need to have him to herself. She had to let Ben go. Kevin’s boy needed him. Probably more than Carlie did.

  Slowly she disentangled herself and started for the door before she heard the jangle of his keys. “I’ll drive you,” he said, “unless you were planning on hitchhiking back to town.”

  She managed a short, bittersweet laugh and Ben whistled to the dog. Attila raced to the door and as it was open, bounded outside to leap at the sides of the cab.

  “He’s crazy about taking a drive,” Ben explained. “Hope you don’t mind.”

  “Never,” Carlie replied, hoping that her broken heart didn’t show in her eyes. She scratched the dog behind his ears and held open the door for him. Attila wanted the window seat so he could stick his head through the opening and Carlie ended up pressed tightly against Ben. She stared through the windshield and felt cold inside though the sun was shining brightly enough for Ben to reach in the glove compartment for his dark glasses.

  They passed the park and Ben glanced at the baseball field. “Randy’s already here,” he said with a frown. “I really should stop—” Without waiting for her response, he turned onto a side street near the baseball diamonds and guided the truck to a stop near the curb. “It’ll only take a minute.”

  “It’s okay,” she said, forcing a smile.

  “You sure?”

  “Absolutely. Take your time. I’ll wait.”

  Ben didn’t look convinced, but pocketed his keys and climbed quickly out of the cab. Attila, ready for adventure, leapt to the ground and took off at a sprint. Hands in his back pockets, Ben strode across the dewy grass to join a huddle of men and boys, some of whom were already tossing a ball around. Carlie’s heart twisted as she watched the sunlight gleam against his dark hair and his face break into a smile as he spied his nephew.

  Ben was irrevocably tied to Randy, whether he knew it or not, and therefore tied to Tracy, as well. Carlie felt like a selfish fool for the jealousy that balled in her stomach. Randy needed him. More than she did.

  Swallowing back a lump in her throat, she watched. Ben stood out in the crowd of men wearing warm-up suits, baseball hats and league jackets. In his faded jeans, rumpled leather jacket, T-shirt and aviator glasses, he looked more like a stuntman for a Hollywood film than a father.

  Carlie couldn’t help but watch. A skinny kid with brown hair and an Oakland A’s cap ran up to Ben. Ben teased the boy and yanked off his hat to rumple his hair. The kid danced around him and made a big fuss over Attila, who barked and jumped like a puppy. Carlie’s heart cracked as she realized this should be her son—she and Ben should have had a child—a son or daughter—this very age.

  Other kids raced over to check out the dog. Bundled in sweatpants and sweatshirts, with major league caps on their heads and huge fielding gloves on their hands, the boys were laughing and talking and shoving each other, their faces red, their eyes sparkling with anticipation.

  One big lanky kid threw the dog a ball and the anxious shepherd took off at a sprint. Excited voices and peals of laughter floated on the morning breeze.

  Carlie felt numb inside. This was where Ben belonged. He glanced to the pickup and waved as he extracted himself from the group. She lifted her hand but he’d already turned away and helped sign the boy up at a table where mothers were sipping coffee while guarding application forms.

  One mom offered him coffee and a smile; another was all business, pointing to the registration forms. Other boys had already batted and pitched while judges in windbreakers and baseball caps watched their performance from bleachers that needed a new coat of paint.

  Tracy was there, too, wearing a baseball cap and hovering nearby and smiling up at Ben. It hit Carlie like a ton of bricks: she was the outsider, the one who didn’t belong. That thought made her stomach clench into a painful ball. Why wouldn’t she ever learn?

  Ben said something to Tracy and she laughed. Then Randy han
ded his uncle a ball and they started playing catch, Ben squatting like a catcher, Randy winding up to pitch.

  If only their own child had lived! Knowing that she had to leave before her raw emotions started to strangle her, Carlie hopped out of the truck and trudged across the wet grass. She would explain to Ben that she could walk back to the apartment. The hike was less than a mile and the exercise would do her some good. She could leave him here with his nephew—where he belonged—and she wouldn’t have to torture herself any longer.

  Randy was just getting ready to bat for the judges. Carlie was close enough to hear Ben talking to the boy.

  “Remember—eye on the ball,” Ben encouraged, his face as intense as if his own son were trying out. “Address the plate and don’t let that pitcher scare you.” Ben took off his glasses and gave the boy a wink.

  “I won’t.”

  “You can do it,” Tracy encouraged, straightening the boy’s sweatshirt. “You’re the best, honey.”

  Was it her imagination, or did Carlie see Randy’s back stiffen a little as he walked to the short line near the on-deck circle.

  “He’s just got to do well,” Tracy confided in Ben. She was so nervous, she was chewing on her polished nails. “Jerry Tienman is here and he’s the coach I want for Randy.”

  “Is he who Randy wants?”

  “Of course. Tienman is the best coach in the league and last year, over half his team became all-stars....” Her voice drifted off as she noticed Carlie approaching. A web of tiny lines formed between her eyebrows.

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Carlie said, forcing a smile as she caught Ben’s attention. “But I’ve got to go.”

  Ben glanced from Carlie to the plate. “This’ll only be a few minutes.”

  “Randy would really be disappointed if you left,” Tracy cut in, and Carlie felt like a heel.

  “Really. You stay here. It’s okay. I’ll just cut through the park. It’s only a few blocks.”

  Ben’s lips tightened. “Just hang in here, okay?”