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

by Lisa Jackson

  The door clicked shut. “I don’t know how many times I have to warn you about him!” he growled through clenched teeth.

  “Get over it, Ben,” she shot back. “I’m not a sixteen-year-old virgin who can be manipulated and taken advantage of.”

  His shoulder muscles bunched beneath his jacket. “Fitzpatrick wants something from you.”

  “Like what?”

  “Take a guess.” When she didn’t answer, he said, “Fitzpatrick’s looking for a mistress. You seem to be top on the list.”

  “Give me a break!” she said, but remembered the lingering touches and the dark glances that Thomas had cast in her direction.

  “The man’s had affairs all his life. You don’t need to be a genius to figure that out. Jackson Moore is proof enough. And now Fitzpatrick’s wife has filed for divorce, or at least that’s the rumor going about the logging company, so guess what? Good ol’ Tom is going to have his freedom.”

  “I’m not interested.”

  “He’s a wealthy man, Carlie.”

  “I should slap you for that one.”

  “A powerful man.”

  “Oh, come on—”

  “He could give you everything you’d ever want.”

  Stung, she turned on her heel. “I don’t have to listen to these insults!” She tried to push past him and reached for the brass lever of the doors, but Ben grabbed her again. Before she could say anything, he yanked her roughly to him, slanted his lips over hers and kissed her with all the passion and anger that stormed through his blood. His lips were hot and hard and demanding, his body lean and firm.

  She jerked away, anger still coursing through her blood. “Don’t drag me out here, insult me and then think you can make it all better by kissing me!” she said.

  “Nothing’s better.”

  “You’re damned right. I don’t like being manhandled, Ben. Not by you. Not by anyone. So cut out the Neanderthal macho routine!”

  His eyes flashed fire, but he released her. “Oh, hell, Carlie, I didn’t mean to insult you.” He drew in a deep breath of the wintry air. “I’m just warning you about Fitzpatrick.”

  “I don’t need a mother.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Or a babysitter.”

  “Carlie—”

  “Shh. I don’t even need an older brother, Ben. I can take care of myself.”

  “Can you?” His voice was suddenly low and sexy. “Maybe I don’t want to think that you’re so damned independent. Maybe I want to think that you need a man.”

  “Are you applying for the job?” she asked, her anger beginning to fade.

  “I’d like to.”

  She stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips gently across his. “I’m a big girl now.”

  His grin, a slash of white in the darkness, was wicked and sensual. “I’ve noticed.” His lips found hers and his hands spanned her waist. “Let’s ditch this party.”

  “Mmm, I can’t,” she said with genuine reluctance. “I promised Mom and Dad I’d drive them home.”

  “Later?”

  She wanted to say yes, to beg him to meet her at her apartment, but she held her tongue. She remembered their argument about Tracy, about the past, about Thomas Fitzpatrick. “Soon,” she promised, closing her eyes and drinking in the smell of him—of soap and champagne and some musky cologne.

  His lips found hers again and her head began to swim. Her eyes closed and desire pumped through her blood. She wondered what the future would bring, but steadfastly shoved all her cloying doubts into a dark corner of her mind. She was caught in the wonder and magic of loving him.

  Slowly she opened her eyes and saw, through the steamy glass of the French doors, a woman in white. Tracy Niday, her eyes squinting through the glass, her jaw set in renewed determination was staring at them. A chill, deep as the February night, passed through Carlie’s bones.

  Carlie drew back from Ben’s embrace, but he groaned and pulled her close again, his lips hot and wet against her own. She fell willingly against him and when she looked back to the glass, Tracy had disappeared.

  “We can’t do this all night?”

  “Not here.”

  “Come home with me.”

  “I will, but not tonight,” she said, regret heavy in her voice.

  “I’ll hold you to it.”

  “You’d better.”

  Ben took Carlie’s hand as they walked back into the dining room. Though Tracy was drinking champagne and flirting with several of the men collecting near the open bar, Carlie was certain that Tracy knew the exact moment they’d walked inside.

  Telling herself she was being petty, Carlie turned her attention back to the party. She talked to some friends, avoided any more champagne and held Ben’s hand. His eyes sparkled when he asked her to dance and she couldn’t say no. Other couples, including Hayden and Nadine, swept around the floor. Nadine looked radiant. Her red hair was piled in loose curls on her head and her dress, black silk with rhinestones, caught in the light. The newlyweds laughed and talked as they danced, and when they passed Ben and Carlie, Nadine winked, as if at a private joke.

  “What was that all about?” Carlie demanded.

  “Just my sister’s perverse sense of humor.”

  “Meaning—”

  “Meaning nothing.” He held Carlie tighter and gazed into her eyes. “Just dance with me, lady. Forget about everything else.”

  She did. Snuggled in the warmth of Ben’s embrace, she listened to the music and the beating of his heart and the muted sounds of conversation and tinkling glass. It was all so perfect, so romantic...

  “I never want to see you again!” Toni Fitzpatrick’s voice rang through the dining room.

  The band stopped playing, instrument by instrument. Conversation lapsed. Carlie and Ben froze on the dance floor and turned, with the rest of the crowd, toward the ice-sculpture and the couple standing next to it: Toni and Phil, for whom this lavish party was thrown.

  So furious she was shaking, Toni yanked off her diamond ring and hurled it across the room. “Never!” she repeated amid gasps and whispers and shocked expressions.

  “Toni, please—” Phil said, his face as red as the lobster tails being served on the opposite side of the room.

  “Get out! Just get the hell out!” Toni screamed, then realizing where she was, ran up the stairs. Tears streamed from her eyes and Thomas, lithe as a jungle cat, took off after her.

  “I’m sorry,” Phil said to the crowd as a whole and June Fitzpatrick, who was suddenly white as a sheet, waved impatiently to the bandleader, who cleared his throat and began playing a love ballad. The rest of the band joined in, adding a soft harmony to the hushed speculation that buzzed through the guests.

  “I wonder what that was all about,” Carlie whispered as Phil collected the ring and hurried up the steps.

  “Looks like Toni got cold feet.” Ben took her into his arms again. “I’m not surprised. She’s a rebel and Phil Larkin is too buttoned-down for her. A lawyer and stockbroker? Boring combination.”

  “Jackson’s a lawyer.”

  “Jackson deals with interesting cases. I read where he just got some oil heiress off the hook. The D.A. backed off.”

  “Alexandra Stillwell,” Carlie said, remembering an earlier conversation with Rachelle. “The D.A. had originally thought she’d killed her father. Turns out Jackson found evidence proving she couldn’t have done it.” She arched an eyebrow at him. “Sound familiar?”

  “Too familiar.”

  Her mother found her. “Can you believe that?” Thelma asked, motioning to the stairs. “Walking out on your own engagement party? That Toni always was a wild one. I know, too. Saw her cutting school and hanging around the drugstore, smoking cigarettes when she should have been in class.” Thelma clucked her tongue. “Look, I think your father’s about all in—” She glanced at Ben and her spine stiffened slightly.

  “The party’s about over anyway,” Carlie said. “Mom, you remember Ben.”


  “I’ve heard that Carlie’s been seeing you again,” she said, her words clipped with old resentment. “I’d like to tell you that I approve because I believe that bygones should be bygones, but I remember—”

  “Mom, please,” Carlie cut in, realizing too late that her mother’s tongue had been loosened by the champagne.

  Thelma’s face clouded over. “I just don’t want to see you hurt again,” she said, and Ben shoved his hands in his pockets.

  “Look, Mrs. Surrett,” he said, his features sober, his gaze sincere as he met Thelma’s, “I know I made some mistakes, some big ones where Carlie is concerned. I won’t insult you with excuses. I can only tell you that I won’t be making the same mistakes twice.”

  “I hope not,” Thelma replied and walked to the elevator where her husband was waiting for her.

  “I’ve got to go,” Carlie said.

  “Me, too.” Ben squared his shoulders. “While I’m mending fences, I may as well fix them all.” He walked with her to the elevator and met Weldon’s harsh glare with his steady gaze. He looked like a captured soldier walking into an enemy headquarters, Carlie thought as she noticed the tension in all of Ben’s muscles. He extended his hand to her father who, after a second’s hesitation, clasped it. “Mr. Surrett.”

  “Powell.” Weldon’s mouth tightened.

  After a few minutes of small talk as Ben inquired into Carlie’s father’s health, Weldon said, “You may as well know, I told Carlie she should stop seein’ you. It’s the same advice I gave her ten years ago, and I think it still stands.”

  “I hope to prove you wrong.”

  “You can’t, boy,” he said, shaking his head and motioning for his wife to hit the elevator call button. “It’s not in your nature.”

  “I might surprise you.”

  “I hope so.” The elevator landed and a bell chimed softly. As the doors whispered open, Thelma pushed her husband into the waiting car.

  “I’ll see you later,” Carlie said to Ben.

  “When?” Ben held on to Carlie’s arm while her mother impatiently pressed the door open button and waited.

  “Call me.”

  Ben let her go and Carlie slipped into the waiting car. The doors began to close and Carlie watched as Ben walked toward the stairs only to be caught in midstride by Tracy Niday. The doors closed, blocking her view.

  Carlie’s heart squeezed.

  “I saw him with her earlier,” Thelma said as the elevator began moving upward.

  Weldon agreed. “So did I. She’ll always be a part of his life, honey.” He reached for his daughter’s hand. “Because of that boy of hers.”

  The elevator stopped on the main floor and Carlie was left with the sinking sensation that her father was right. As long as Randy needed a father, Tracy’s sights would be set on Ben.

  Chapter Eleven

  BEN WATCHED THE backhoe gouging out huge chunks of mud from the excavation site. He’d been lucky. The weather had broken and it looked as if the concrete foundation for Nadine’s cabin could be poured in the next couple of weeks.

  All in all, things were going well. Work on the Hunter apartment house would be finished by the middle of March, this cabin would take him through part of the summer and the projects at the logging company would keep his subcontractors busy throughout the spring.

  So why was he so restless? The answer was obvious. Carlie. The woman he didn’t know whether to love or hate. When she’d first returned to Gold Creek, he’d been certain that she was a user, a gold digger, a callous woman who stepped on men’s souls. Then, as the weeks had passed and they argued about the past he’d seen a new side to Carlie—a side that beguiled him and told him that he’d made a mistake about her in the past. Then he’d made love to her and that lovemaking had been as soul-wrenching and earth-shattering as it had been eleven years ago. He’d thought he’d lost his ability to become so involved in a woman, but he’d been wrong. He could feel that same exhilaration. But only with Carlie.

  Damn it all anyway! He kicked a stone with the toe of his work boot and wondered what the hell he was going to do about her.

  He should trust her, get over the past, start fresh. That’s what he wanted to do, and last night, when he held her in his arms and kissed her on the veranda of the country club, it had been all he could do not to pull her into the shadows beyond the interior lights and make love to her over and over again. She was in his blood, in his mind, and...it seemed, in his heart.

  He was about to make the same mistake with her as he had in the past. His destiny, it seemed.

  So why was she having dinner with Thomas Fitzpatrick?

  Because Fitzpatrick was interested in her, and had been from the moment she set foot back in Gold Creek. Ben had noticed the way Fitzpatrick had watched Carlie on the dance floor, his old eyes following her every move as he’d pretended interest in another conversation.

  He clenched his jaw so hard that it began to ache. “Son of a bitch!”

  “Ben! Hey, Ben!” Ralph Katcher slogged through the mud. “Lookin’ good here, eh?” He stopped to stuff some tobacco behind his gum.

  “Better,” Ben allowed.

  “Hell, yes, better. A damned sight better. You know, I think you might just end up a solid citizen of Gold Creek. End up on the board of the chamber of commerce. You and Thomas Fitzpatrick!”

  “That’ll be the day,” he said. They shared a cup of coffee from his thermos, then Ben drove off to check the other jobs he’d contracted.

  All the work looked good at the Hunter house. He hung out for a while, spending more time than necessary checking the finishing touches, hoping that Carlie would show up. When she didn’t arrive, he headed out to the logging company offices and told himself over and over that Thomas Fitzpatrick’s money was the same color as anyone else’s. However, dealing with Fitzpatrick burned a hole in his gut. He’d never forgiven him for being part of the scheme that had fleeced his father out of his life savings—and he didn’t trust him now. With Carlie.

  It was probably just his imagination, but he’d seen how Thomas had looked at her at Nadine’s wedding, read the unspoken messages in his eyes. Again, last night, in front of his family and all the guests at the engagement party, Thomas had made a beeline to Carlie and hovered around her. Later, as she and Ben had danced, Fitzpatrick had eyed them. Then there was the sudden interest in the apartment house where Carlie lived. Why would Fitzpatrick want the old building?

  Fitzpatrick was also throwing a lot of work Carlie’s way, which wasn’t a big deal in and of itself, but the fact that there were so many other strings that tied Carlie to him made Ben sweat. There was also the business with her dad. Fitzpatrick was playing God on that one, teasing a sick old man with his pension and retirement benefits.

  Ben didn’t like it. It smelled bad. But his hands were tied. Carlie, damn her, insisted upon being her own woman and she’d have to learn about Fitzpatrick on her own.

  His teeth gritted and he told himself to forget it, but a black mood settled over him.

  He drove home, changed quickly and after feeding Attila and skimming a Frisbee through the air for fifteen minutes, he left the dog in the yard and climbed into his truck again. But he hesitated before switching on the ignition. He wasn’t looking forward to the evening in front of him. Tracy had called him on the car phone and invited him over and Ben hadn’t found the spite in him to refuse. She’d wheedled and explained that Randy would really like to see him again after the disaster of Little League tryouts, so Ben had bowed to his own guilt and agreed to take them both to a restaurant and a movie. Tracy hadn’t been able to hide the smile in her voice and Ben felt trapped.

  He picked them up at six and they drove to the outskirts of town where they stopped at the Burger Den for triple-decker cheeseburgers and spicy fries. Randy ordered a large root beer milk shake and though his mother teased him about breaking training, she let him have the drink anyway and Ben was relieved. He didn’t want to get into another discussion about child
rearing. Randy was her kid and she had the right to raise him as she saw fit, as long as she didn’t harm the boy.

  They laughed and talked and Ben wondered why he’d felt so ill at ease earlier. Tracy was her most charming and she smiled at him often, her brown eyes twinkling, her full lips stretching into a sexy grin.

  But Ben couldn’t stop thinking about Carlie. Throughout the evening, no matter what direction the conversation took, his mind wandered and he wondered where she was. Tonight she was supposed to be meeting Fitzpatrick for a business dinner. Just the thought of it curled Ben’s insides.

  “Is something wrong?” Tracy asked, snapping him back to the present.

  “Nothing.”

  She stared pointedly at his half-eaten cheeseburger. “Nothing?”

  “Nothing that matters.” He grinned at Randy. “Hurry up, sport. The movie starts in twenty minutes.”

  The film was an action/adventure film that featured teenaged stars Randy recognized from television. Randy ate popcorn from a tub and watched raptly and Ben tried to show some interest in the thin plot, but his mind continued to wander to Carlie. Always to Carlie. He felt like a traitor being here with Kevin’s family, and yet there was no way out of this particular emotional entanglement—at least no easy way. He slid a glance at Randy and the kid looked at him and smiled—Kevin’s smile.

  Tracy touched him on the arm and he nearly jumped out of his skin.

  “Where are you?” she whispered.

  “Here.”

  “More like a million miles away.”

  “Got a lot on my mind.”

  “The business?” she asked hopefully.

  “That’s a big part of it.”

  “And the rest?”

  Even in the darkness he could see the worry and sadness in her eyes. “Nothing important,” he lied and glanced at his watch.

  When he dropped them off at their apartment, Randy grinned at Ben and thanked him for the “good time.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Randy glanced at his mom. “Aren’t you coming in?” he asked Ben.

  “Not now.”

  “But...you’ll be back?”