Tempt Me If You Can

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Tempt Me If You Can Page 13

by Janet Chapman


  He sighed instead. “The point I’m trying to drive into that stubborn little head of yours is that you could have gotten hurt tonight.”

  She shot him a sudden smile. “Is your ego strong enough to go back inside and let me take off my shawl for the rest of the dance?”

  Sounding more like a mountain lion than a man, he growled deep in his chest as his mouth descended on hers. He was not gentle and she didn’t expect him to be. Anger and fear and the threat of violence often turned into passion for men, especially when the object of their frustration was within reach. And she reveled in it.

  It appeared he might really like her.

  And damn if she wasn’t liking him back.

  Emma wrapped her arms around his neck, yielding against him as she coaxed a different response. Slowly, almost reluctantly, his arms loosened until she could breathe again, and his grip relaxed into a caress.

  He sighed into her mouth as he slid his hand down to cup her bottom. And again she felt the evidence of his desire.

  There was a fire slowly kindling in her as she let him lift her closer still, allowing her to wage her own assault. She explored the texture of his mouth, his hair beneath her hands, his heat that radiated clear through her coat. Even his smell enveloped her. He tasted of beer and delicious male essence, and Emma soon became drunk on him.

  He broke away, sucking in a shaky breath. Every muscle she was clinging to felt like granite. Her head was spinning and everything had gone black except for the flashes of light swirling in her head.

  “Open your eyes, Em.”

  That helped. Until she looked up at his face. She got dizzy again when her gaze locked on his, and she had to dig her fingers into his jacket to steady herself.

  “If I take you home now, I’m going to lock us both in your bedroom. Then I’m going to strip off that dress and make love to you for two days straight.”

  How classic. Give a man a kiss, and he starts talking about bed. “Do I have another option?”

  “We can walk across the street to the diner, and I’ll buy you a meal first.”

  To fortify her for their lovemaking? How thoughtful.

  But she wasn’t ready to give her passion, to experience sexual bliss with the man she had loved since adolescence. What good would come of taking him into her bed and body when he intended to walk out of her life in two months with her nephew?

  “I’m about to take you on the hood of this truck, if you don’t decide soon.”

  Emma could feel the tension humming through him. And he thought she had been in danger at the dance?

  “Dinner.”

  He looked momentarily confused, then his face darkened. Suddenly he released her, grabbed her hand, and started pulling her across the street.

  Emma stifled a snort. Undentable ego, hah! She smiled, hoping the diner was warm and toasty, because she intended to take off her shawl to eat.

  Chapter Eleven

  The little witch had taken off her shawl in the diner. Ben shook his head as he escorted his date back to his truck. She had stuffed herself with potatoes and coleslaw and a hamburger that would have choked a horse. Then she’d followed everything with a monstrous dessert that had far more icing than cake.

  He hadn’t been able to swallow a thing.

  Her coat was now buttoned up to her chin, thank God. Hopefully he would find the strength to take her home and leave her at her door.

  That bright red dress was only slightly higher in the front than the back. And she was wearing a long string of pearls that nicely teased the top curve of her breasts.

  Stunning breasts—full and soft—and she clearly wasn’t wearing a bra.

  “A cold front’s moved in,” she said, her breath fogging in the chilly air.

  Cold front? He was hotter than a teenager in a whorehouse with a hundred-dollar bill.

  “The dance is still going strong. You want to go back in?” he asked, stopping beside his truck.

  “No. I think we should call it a night.”

  Something in her voice sounded odd—almost like fear. Emma Sands, the shotgun-carrying, night-flying spitfire, was afraid. But not of him—not exactly.

  Maybe she feared the emotional danger he presented. Maybe the fact that she erupted like a long-dormant volcano every time they kissed scared the hell out of her.

  Ben opened her door to his truck. “I’ll take you home, kiss you good night, and see you tomorrow.”

  Wide, questioning green eyes looked up at him, and a sigh of relief escaped her as she turned to climb into the truck. Ben softly closed the door and walked around and climbed in his side of the truck.

  “The evening wasn’t a total waste,” she said as he buckled his belt.

  “Not for you. Your belly’s full enough to last you the winter.”

  She smiled at him. “Thank you for dinner, but I meant the dance wasn’t a waste. You accomplished a lot tonight.”

  He gave his attention to pulling out of the crowded parking lot. “How’s that?”

  “You finally came into town, were recognized, and faced your accusers. Everyone is going home tonight with something to think about. And since they all know you’re here, you won’t have to stay hidden at Medicine Creek Camps any longer.”

  That made him frown. “I wasn’t hiding.”

  She waved that away. “Now when you come into town, there won’t be an ugly scene. You won’t catch anyone by surprise and they won’t be so hostile.”

  “So that’s why you agreed to come tonight? You wanted to be there for my grand reunion with Medicine Gore, so you could run interference?”

  She lifted her chin. “I just wanted to go to a dance. It’s been years since I attended one.”

  Ben blew out a tired breath. Arguing with Emma was an exercise in futility. “And now you think everything’s fine?”

  “No, they’ll still be suspicious. But they’ll also be more open-minded.”

  “Because of your resounding endorsement?”

  “Because I gave them cold, hard facts to think about.” Ben saw her lift her chin again. “And yes, because they know me. They know I wouldn’t be caught dead with you if I thought you were responsible for killing my father.”

  “And what about Kelly? Will they forgive me for abandoning her and Mike?”

  “Probably not. Although they won’t put all the blame on you. Kelly was … well, she was known for being a bit … impulsive.” She turned in her seat and touched his sleeve. “They’re good people, Ben. They just need time for the truth to sink in.”

  He looked down at her hand. It was a feminine hand, despite the short nails and calluses he knew were there. It was a strong hand, capable of holding a gun, of coaxing a plane into unthinkable flight, and of inciting his lust to new heights with the gentlest of touches.

  “God, Emma, you overwhelm me,” he said, covering her hand with his.

  She squeaked and pulled back as if he had burned her. Ben opened his mouth to reassure her that she was safe for tonight, but one of the red idiot lights on the dash suddenly blinked on.

  “Damn.” He immediately shut off the engine, then let the truck coast to the shoulder of the road.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “The oil light just came on.” He put the truck in park, turned to her, and caught her smiling at him. “What’s so funny?”

  “This is what you get for spending a fortune for a sissified truck.”

  “Sissified?”

  She waved her hand around the interior. “This isn’t a real truck; it’s a station wagon disguised as one. It’s got leather seats and more frills than a Victorian teahouse,” she added as she dropped her visor and opened the mirror. A set of lights automatically turned on. Ben heard a soft whir, and Emma seemed to magically rise in her seat. “It’s a yuppy vehicle.”

  “I bought it for us.”

  “Us?”

  “I thought the three of us could take a trip down to the coast some weekend,” he told her as she magically descended ba
ck into position. “I want Mike to meet my older brother, Sam. He lives in Keelstone Cove.”

  She sobered. “Oh. Mike would love that.”

  “Only we’re not even going to make it home, much less to the coast,” he said as he opened his door, releasing the hood and stepping out. He heard Emma’s door open also. “Be careful near that ditch,” he warned, remembering she was wearing heels.

  There was a short scream, a rustling of bushes, and then muffled grumbling from the other side of the truck. It took him no more than a second to reach her, but Emma was already struggling to her feet. Her long hair had got caught on a bush and she muttered a word that made him grin.

  “Don’t you dare say a thing,” she hissed. The interior lights of the truck were bright enough for Ben to see her glare at him while she tugged on her hair.

  “Let me get that,” he said, reaching down to free her. “Emma, a lady is supposed to wait in the car when there’s trouble,” he said, shaking his head at the mess she’d made of herself.

  “Thank you, Emily Post,” she snapped. She grabbed his pant leg—much too high for comfort—and tried to pull herself up out of the ditch.

  Ben reached under her arms and hauled her to her feet, and didn’t let go until he had her seated in the truck. One hand on the door, the other on the roof, he stood and watched as she pulled down the visor again and opened the lighted mirror she had just scoffed at. She ran her fingers through her hair, then brushed at a bit of dirt on her cheek. “What’s wrong with the truck?”

  “How in hell am I supposed to know? Have you looked under the hood of one of these things lately?”

  She nodded. “My new truck has more technology under its hood than the space shuttle. So what do we do?”

  Ben reached into his jacket and pulled out his cell phone. “We call for a tow.”

  She peered out at the surrounding black woods. “I don’t think we’re within range, Ben. Medicine Gore is on the fringe of service, and we’re a good five miles past that.”

  “The fringe of civilization, you mean,” he muttered, opening his phone and checking for a signal. The little red light flashed up at him with depressing regularity. He looked up and down the road, finding nothing but black emptiness in each direction. “Then you will sit tight and I’ll go for a walk. Which direction is shortest?”

  “We’re closer to Medicine Gore than home, but I’m going with you.”

  “Afraid I’ll get lost again, madam guide?”

  “I don’t think we should separate. Someone might be lurking in the shadows, waiting for you.”

  He sobered. “You think this was deliberate?”

  “New trucks don’t just lose oil all of a sudden.”

  He cursed. “But you can’t possibly walk in those shoes, Emma. You’ll break your neck.”

  “I never leave the house unprepared. I tossed my sneakers into the back before we left. I’ve ended up walking more than once from a broken truck.”

  “That’s right. Didn’t Mike ask if you had run your truck into a creek again, the day you found me?”

  “It was either that or run into a moose,” she said, trying to jump down.

  Ben grabbed her before she could go tumbling into the ditch again and sat her back up on the seat. “I’ll get your shoes for you.” He walked to the back of the truck, straining to see into the darkness behind them. Emma was probably right. Someone had tampered with the truck while they had been in the diner.

  Poulin, most likely.

  Of all the men, he appeared to be the greatest threat. Poulin would have no problem stranding them both in the middle of the woods on a cold night, and Ben made a mental note to keep an eye on Wayne in the future.

  He opened the tailgate door and found a small bag sitting there.

  “Here. What else have you got in there?” he asked, handing her the bag.

  “A flashlight, a compact survival kit, and a package of Elmer Fudge cookies.”

  “All the necessities,” he said with a chuckle. “How far to home?”

  “Only eight miles.”

  “Eight!”

  She stopped rummaging around in the bag and looked at him. “That’s by road. We could cut cross-country and be there in five.”

  He shook his head. “Not unless you packed some pants in that bag.” He blew out a breath and watched it steam up into the night. “If we stick to the road, we may get a ride.” He looked at his watch. “The dance should be breaking up soon.”

  “Galen lives out this way.”

  “He probably helped Poulin ruin my truck.”

  “What makes you think Wayne did it?”

  “Any other likely suspects?”

  “No.” She finished tying her sneakers and tossed her red shoes in the backseat before she jumped down. She was much steadier on her feet this time, and Ben saw the Maine Guide in her return.

  Too bad. He already missed the unschooled vixen she’d been tonight, with her hair done up to expose her neck and her blush of red lipstick that had disappeared with her meal.

  But he still intended to steal that dress and hide it until their honeymoon.

  They walked in companionable silence for the first few minutes, and Ben realized he was happy. No matter that his truck had been sabotaged, or that the entire town of Medicine Gore distrusted him, or even that he was sexually frustrated by the woman walking beside him. He liked it here.

  He enjoyed the sense of wonder and grandeur of these woods. He liked the overflowing emptiness of the land. He was even getting used to the unpredictable weather.

  “I can’t imagine wanting to leave here to go study the ocean,” he said into the silence. “Is that what you really want to do, Emma?”

  “I don’t honestly know,” she answered. “Sometimes I just wish that I had the choice.”

  “You’ve always had the choice. You could have sold everything and taken Michael with you.”

  She looked over at him, but Ben couldn’t make out her features in the low light of the waning moon. They weren’t using the flashlight because Emma had said it was easier to walk once their eyes were adjusted to the dark.

  “I was too scared. It was easier to stay with what I knew rather than venture into the unknown. Especially with Mikey. If I had been alone, well … I don’t know.”

  “You love it here. You’ve succeeded in your own right,” he told her.

  “I do love it. And I’ll probably never leave,” she agreed.

  He folded an arm over her shoulder and pulled her against him, making walking awkward, but she didn’t protest. “Once we’re married, I could even move my base of operations here. Never say never, Em. Maybe we could spend several months of the year here, and the rest at Rosebriar.”

  But he was talking to himself, because Emma had stopped three steps back.

  “What did you say?” she asked, her voice cracking in disbelief.

  What had he said? Several months here … move his operations after they … oh, Lord, he’d said the m word out loud.

  “You said ‘after we’re married.’”

  “Yes. I guess I did.”

  She started walking again—in the opposite direction.

  Ben ran after her. “Emma. Wait. I know it’s kind of a shock, but …”

  Aw, hell. He’d said it, he meant it, and he had to tell her eventually. He grabbed her arm and turned her around to face him. “Emma. I want to marry you.”

  “Well, I don’t want to marry you. I don’t ever want to get married.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t ever intend to fall in love.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  She pulled herself free and started walking again. “Because every person I’ve ever loved has left, one way or another. Even Mikey will be leaving.”

  Ben caught her sleeve again, and spun her around, and held her firmly by both arms. “I won’t leave you, Em.”

  “You already did.”

  “What do you mean? When?”

  �
�Oh, Ben. I had such a crush on you sixteen years ago. I didn’t even care that you were seeing Kelly. I was sure you would come to your senses eventually and notice me.” She looked down at his chest. “I was so sure you would come back, and that I would be grown up enough for you by then.” She looked up at him and the anguish he saw stole his breath. “It wasn’t until Kelly left that I realized you were never coming back. So I simply stopped loving you.”

  He was frozen in shock. Then he crushed her to his chest so fiercely, it was a wonder she didn’t break.

  “It’s me. I’m the one Mike was talking about. You’re in love with me!”

  He hugged her again, laughing at himself. “It’s me!”

  He was the one Emma had gathered her hope chest for.

  But he was also the man who had broken her heart so badly she had abandoned her dream. Ben wanted to howl at the moon. He had been competing with himself all this time—and now he had to compete with her demons.

  “I was fifteen that summer, Ben. It was puppy love, and I’ve outgrown it,” she said into his chest.

  He held her away. She was a gorgeous mess, her hair a tangle of knots and her eyes shining with tears.

  She was beautiful.

  This could work. It fit his plan even better. If Emma loved him she would be contented as his wife. They could have a good marriage; she would be happy, Michael would be ecstatic, and Ben could get his life back on track.

  “Marry me, Emma. Marry me right now, and I promise to never, ever leave you again.”

  “You’re not listening to me. I don’t love you anymore.”

  Dammit, he might as well be talking to the trees. He turned them back toward Medicine Creek Camps and started walking again.

  “If you loved me once, you can love me again. And, Emma?”

  “What?” she asked, staring straight ahead.

  He waited until she looked at him.

  “I have more patience than you do.”

  They walked in silence for nearly two miles before the first headlights appeared on the road behind them. Emma pulled Ben into the ditch, then well into the woods.

  “Hey,” he protested. “We could get a ride.”

 

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