Tempt Me If You Can

by Janet Chapman

  He took two steps closer and put his hands on her shoulders. Emma feared he could feel her shaking, but she didn’t pull away.

  “That’s what you think you’ve done, isn’t it, Em? You think you’ve sold your soul by keeping Mike from me, that you’ve committed a sin neither I nor God can forgive.”

  He reached up and gently brushed a tear from her cheek, and Emma realized she was crying. Still, she couldn’t move.

  “I forgive you, Emma Sands, because I probably would have done the same.” He lifted her chin. “Will you please stop worrying that I’m trying to take Mike away from you? Will you believe that I’m willing to share him?”

  “I could have done something ten years ago, Ben. I could have done something fifteen years ago. Even then, I was old enough to know it’s wrong not to tell a man he’s fathered a child. I would never forgive anyone who did something like that to me.”

  Tears were running down her cheeks.

  “Aw, hell, Em,” Ben growled. He wrapped her up in his arms and rocked her back and forth—in the dark shadows of the pines, in the silence of the cold autumn night. “That’s our problem. You can’t believe I can understand why you kept Michael to yourself all these years.”

  “You shouldn’t.”

  “But I do. Because I can feel your love for him.”

  Emma looked up. “But I can’t even say if I would do things differently, given another chance. I honestly don’t know if I would have the strength.”

  “You had the strength to mail the letter a month ago. Why then?”

  Emma pulled away and walked to Ben’s truck. “I didn’t send you that letter. Mikey must have. He may only be fifteen, but come January, he’s stepping into the giant world of college. He needs someone other than me to guide him, a father to show him the way. He needs you.”

  “And you, too.”

  “Not really. All chicks leave the nest eventually. Michael’s flight may be earlier than most, but I’m already becoming his history. And he wants you to be his future.”

  “He’s never intended to leave you behind. Haven’t you figured that out?”

  “I know I will always be his aunt. But he needs more.”

  Ben opened the passenger door and lifted her into the seat. He kept his hands at her waist as he stared into her eyes. “He can have us both.”

  “I have my own life to think about. I intend to leave this nest right after Mikey.”

  “You can have both, too, Em.”

  She shook her head and turned to face the front. A whisper of a sigh reached her just before he softly closed the door. Emma stared at his back as he looked out over the lake, his shoulders casting a broad, strong silhouette that could have been carved from black marble.

  Chapter Ten

  “Give me your coat, and I’ll hang it up and get us some paper cups. Want something from the concession stand?”

  Emma fingered the top button on her coat. The dance was being held in the fire station. They had moved out the trucks and decorated the building—tables had been placed along the walls, the lights were turned down, and a band was set up against the side wall. Emma had chosen a table way back in the corner, where it was hopefully dark enough for people not to recognize either of them.

  “I’ll keep it on a little while. I’m chilled.”

  Her escort lifted one brow. “What are you hiding under there, Emma?” He looked down at her bright red shoes and sheer-hosed legs. “I’m getting curious.”

  She opened the cooler they had brought and waved him away. “Go get some cups and some ice. I’m not hungry yet.”

  After Ben walked off, she unbuttoned her coat, threw it over a chair, then arranged Greta’s shawl, making sure she was covered from her neck to her waist.

  What had possessed her to wear this dress?

  She had two other dresses that were far more modest, but the devil-fairy had returned this afternoon.

  “I want to talk to you.”

  Emma looked up to find Wayne Poulin looming over her, and he didn’t look like he was planning to ask her to dance. “Hi, Wayne. What’s up?”

  He placed his hands on the table and leaned over, attempting to look intimidating. But she had never been afraid of Wayne Poulin, and she wasn’t about to start now.

  “I want you to keep that kid away from me.”

  That surprised her. “I doubt Mikey wants to be anywhere near you, Wayne. So I don’t see the problem.”

  “He was in my room today. When I got home from work tonight, that kid was just leaving Greta’s. And when I got up to my room, I realized someone had been in it. Snooping.”

  “I was in your room.” Emma stood up, forcing him to straighten to look her level in the face. “I brought up your laundry for Greta and dusted a bit.”

  His eyes narrowed to slits. “You did more than dust.”

  Emma shrugged. “I probably moved a few things while cleaning. Sorry.”

  “What were you looking for?” Wayne crossed his arms over his chest. His gaze traveled up and down her, and his eyes gleamed. “You’re looking a lot like your sister this evening, Emma Jean. Why’s that? You got a hot date tonight?”

  “The lady has a possessive date tonight, Poulin. So I suggest you move along.”

  Wayne Poulin swung around with a start. Emma saw his eyes widen when he recognized the speaker, and he had to tilt his head up as he took a step back.

  “Sinclair!”

  Ben set an ice bucket and a plastic cup on the table. He towered over Wayne by a good foot, and seeing them together face-to-face, Emma realized what she had known all along.

  Benjamin Sinclair was not only tall, he was solid: the type of man who would never run from a problem. When he had left Medicine Gore sixteen years ago, he hadn’t abandoned a pregnant girl—he had merely walked away from a disastrous love affair. Nothing could have dragged Ben from his child then, and a whole town full of animosity wouldn’t be able to now.

  Wayne had said Ben’s name loud enough for the nearby tables to hear. People were turning. Conversations had ceased. And whispers arose all around them.

  With a feeling of doom, Emma watched the men face each other. Wayne stood defensively, his hands balled into fists, his shoulders rigid, and his eyes cold. Ben appeared relaxed, but Emma knew he was ready for any attack, verbal or physical.

  “Wayne was just thanking me for bringing up his laundry,” she said into the silence. “I was helping Greta.”

  “Who’s Greta?” Ben asked. He was looking at her, but Emma knew his attention was still firmly on Wayne.

  “She owns the boardinghouse in town. She practically raised Kelly and me.”

  “Greta Lavoie,” he said, nodding. “I remember now. Kelly took me over to her house for cake several times.”

  Emma glared at Ben. He winked back and reached into the cooler. He pulled out a bottle of whiskey and cracked the seal, poured some in a cup of ice, then put the cover back on. Then he pulled out a bottle of beer for himself and looked back at Wayne. “I’d invite you to sit with us, Poulin, but I no longer share my dates.”

  Wayne stalked away.

  Emma quietly whistled between her teeth. “Are you looking for trouble tonight, or just trying to drive me crazy?”

  Ben looked up from opening his beer, his gaze going to her shawl, then down to the red dress below it. His eyes stopped at the hem. Emma watched them widen before they rose to her face.

  “Did you forget to put on the pants that go with that blouse?” he asked softly.

  She tightened the shawl over her chest.

  Ben walked around the table and held the back of her chair. “Sit,” he quietly ordered. “And remind me to hold down the back of that dress when we dance.”

  “It’s not that short.”

  He pulled out the chair beside her and sat down, effectively boxing her in against the wall, setting himself up as guardian of his domain.

  Emma snorted just before she took a sip of her drink. He turned and looked at her, and c
aught her staring at him.

  “What was that for?”

  “You really are territorial. And either really brave or really dumb. Ben, if you want these people to accept you, you’re going to have to walk the greatest distance. You’re the villain here—not Wayne or Durham or anyone from sixteen years ago.”

  “I didn’t do anything wrong. I was a kid on summer break, and I was working for something I believed in. Kelly just … she just happened.”

  Aware they were being openly stared at, Emma reached up and touched his sleeve. “I’m not the one you have to convince.”

  “Yes, you are. You and Mike. Everyone else can go to hell.”

  She brushed at his shoulder. “Oh, Ben. You’re doing a better job of fooling yourself than me. It’s just as important to you that the people here believe you. If not for yourself, then for Mikey.”

  He looked at her hand on his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

  Emma pulled away and smiled at him. “Nothing. I just thought I saw a piece of moss clinging to you.”

  His frown deepened. “I think we should dance.”

  There were all of three couples on the dance floor when Ben pulled her to her feet. As soon as they reached the dance floor, his hand went to her back, under the drape of her shawl. It stilled when five calloused fingers and a wide scorching palm met bare skin. He stopped moving his feet to the rhythm of the music. “Don’t you dare take that shawl off tonight, or you’ll be the cause of any war that breaks out.”

  Emma started dancing, but she had to shove Ben to get him moving again. “If you think the back’s bad, you should see the front,” she whispered, only to have his arms tighten around her with enough force to make her squeak.

  “Oh, cut it out,” she said with a laugh. “I’m sure you’ve escorted plenty of women who’ve worn a lot less.”

  His hand dropped low on her back, pulling her closer. Emma gasped when her belly came into contact with his arousal.

  “Don’t act so shocked,” he whispered, moving them gracefully through the waltz. “This happens every time I get close to you.”

  “Everyone’s staring at us,” she hissed.

  “Then I suggest you cuddle closer if you don’t want them knowing how you affect me.”

  “All hell could break loose any minute, and you’re turned on?”

  He leaned back to stare down at her. “That was your plan, wasn’t it? To distract me—and probably your friends—from the real issue?”

  Emma glared up at him. “I don’t know why I bought this damn dress. I must have had a brain cramp this morning.”

  “And another one this evening, when you put it on? And then fixed up your hair? And slipped into those heels?” He slashed her a feral grin. “At least you had the sense to wear the shawl.”

  Emma leaned her forehead into his shoulder and sighed. “Yes, I still possess some semblance of sanity.”

  The song ended and Ben spun her around and nudged her toward their table. “I need a beer.”

  “Sinclair.”

  Emma turned at the guttural sound. She tried to step around Ben to see who had called his name, but his arm came out and stopped her. Holding her firmly, Ben stood and waited as the four men approached.

  The band didn’t start up another song. The musicians, along with everyone else, silently stared as Durham Bragg, John LeBlanc, Wayne Poulin, and Galen Simms stopped two yards in front of Ben and Emma.

  Durham looked over at her. “Move away from him, Emma.”

  Ben gently pushed her away, his eyes never leaving his adversaries.

  Emma stepped to the side and stopped, crossing her arms under her chest. “This is neither the time nor the place for this, Durham,” she told him.

  “I knew I recognized you, Sinclair.” He shook his head. “You wouldn’t have walked away two weeks ago if I had known who you were then.”

  “You spiked the trees,” John LeBlanc accused from beside Durham. “You’ve come back, bringing even more trouble with you this time.”

  “I’m here for my son,” Ben said, his voice laced with steel.

  Wayne stepped closer. “You’re welcome to take the little bastard and leave.”

  Other than balling his hands into fists, Ben didn’t react.

  “He’s wanting to ruin another Sands first,” Galen Simms added, and the four men took a collective step forward.

  Emma quickly moved between them and Ben.

  “You don’t have your shotgun this time, missy,” Durham hissed.

  Ben’s powerful hands grabbed her shoulders and all but lifted her out of the way. Emma turned and looked up into the hard gray eyes of a man not pleased with her action. She slipped free of his grip and moved back in front of the men, out of Ben’s reach.

  But he didn’t grab for her again, and Emma realized that Durham and John and Wayne and Galen were staring at her, their expressions turned from anger to shock. She looked back and understood why. Ben was holding her shawl in his hands.

  Well, she certainly had everyone’s attention now.

  “For the record, gentlemen,” she said, raising her voice to include the rest of the townspeople. “Benjamin Sinclair did not blow up the dam and kill my father. He didn’t even know about any plans to do so.” She lifted her arms and let them fall back against her sides. “Do any of you honestly believe I would let him in my home if I thought he was responsible for my father’s death?”

  “You’re so blinded by your love for Michael, you probably would,” Durham said.

  Emma pointed her finger at him. “Mikey knows Ben didn’t kill his grandfather. And I know it. Sheriff Ramsey did everything in his power to find the ones responsible. Even the FBI investigated, and they couldn’t come up with a suspect. Every living, breathing male within fifty miles of Medicine Gore was questioned. Every tree hugger who had set foot in Maine that month was questioned. Including Benjamin Sinclair.”

  “How do you know that?” Wayne asked.

  “I read all their reports. It was my father who died, and they kept Kelly and me informed.”

  The men looked past her, as if expecting Ben to confirm her story. Durham was looking thoughtful, as was John LeBlanc. Galen wasn’t budging from his angry expression, and Wayne Poulin looked even more hostile than before.

  But then, he had more reason to hate Ben.

  “Every one of you has spent the last sixteen years focused on Benjamin Sinclair, blaming him for my father’s death. If you had turned all the energy you’ve spent hating Ben into finding the men who actually did it, we could have had a conviction years ago.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Durham asked.

  “She’s sleeping with the bastard,” Galen said, pointing at her.

  “I am not!” She glared at all the men, daring them to utter another word.

  “That’s enough,” Ben growled. Emma flinched when her shawl dropped over her shoulders, then she was suddenly imprisoned between iron-hard arms and an unmovable granite chest. “What you think, Simms, doesn’t mean jack shit,” Ben continued. “But she is right about one thing. Whoever blew up that dam has gotten away with it, and I intend to find him. You can help me or you can stay the hell out of my way—I really don’t give a damn. But understand that your hostility is directed at me. Not Emma, and not Michael.”

  Stark, absolute silence followed.

  “What makes you think you can find him after sixteen years, when the FBI couldn’t?” John LeBlanc finally asked.

  “I’m more motivated,” Ben said.

  “Whoever blew up that dam is long gone,” Wayne said, his eyes narrowing. “Better you just take your son and leave.”

  “I have no intention of leaving.”

  Ben’s anger was palpable, vibrating through Emma’s entire body. She walked out of his arms and back to their table, where she opened the cooler and started repacking.

  “We’re not leaving,” Ben said, coming up beside her.

  She reached for her coat. “You’re welcome to stay, but
I’m going home.”

  A nasty word rumbled across the table as Ben picked up her coat and held it up for her.

  “We are not going home,” he told her through gritted teeth. He picked up the cooler, put his hand at her back, and ushered her past the stunned, staring faces of people who were supposed to be her friends. Her head held high, Emma mentally steeled herself for another scorching lecture.

  But she understood male posturing. As she did with Mikey, she would simply smile and nod at Ben, swear she would act more wisely, then go on doing whatever she had to in order to keep the peace.

  Ben placed the cooler inside the Suburban, slammed the door shut, then turned. Emma took a cautious step back. He looked madder than Mikey ever got, and far more intimidating than her father ever had.

  “Don’t ever step between me and danger again, Emma. There is a fine line between bravery and recklessness, and you crossed it tonight. Poulin and Simms were ready to explode, and neither man cared that you were in the middle.” His hands tightened on her shoulders. “Contrary to what you think, you’re not ten feet tall and bulletproof. You could have gotten hurt.”

  “So could a lot of innocent people. I stopped a brawl from breaking out.”

  “Stepping between angry men is never smart. It was sheer luck tonight that they backed down.”

  She frowned. “There wasn’t an ounce of luck involved. I know these people. Durham wouldn’t have let anything happen to me.”

  “I can fight my own battles.”

  “You weren’t doing a very good job of it when I first found you.”

  He hauled her up against his chest, his arms wrapping around her like a vise, and Emma felt his chest expand as he blew out a sigh.

  “You’re going to be the death of me, Emma. I’ve finally been given a gift from God, but I will be too insane to enjoy it.” He tugged her head back, lifting her face to look at him, pulling at her hair until it fell down her back. “I may lose a few of the battles, but I will win this war, Emma Jean. And there can’t be two generals on the field.”

  “I wasn’t trying to protect you; I just didn’t want any trouble. And I figured they would listen to me,” she quickly added when he took a deep breath to scold her again.