She shook her head sadly. “It’s not always that way, Ben. You were hurt once and maybe it’s understandable that you should feel this way. But there’s a danger the other way, too. Don’t you see that?”
“I don’t,” he growled. “Why don’t you explain it to me?”
He was too close and she was all too aware of him—his height, his breadth, the rugged masculinity of him. It would always be this way…and that was dangerous. It would be far too simple to forsake reason and succumb to the force of sheer physical attraction. And the consequences of such surrender…well, she wasn’t quite sure she could handle them.
Pushing away from the door and stepping around him, she moved to the far side of the room. Every bit of distance helped. “We both know that these circumstances are abnormal. It’s bad enough adjusting to captivity and the daily doings of the trial. But to jump into something…into an affair…” She faltered, seeking the right words. “We each have other lives, other people.” She’d been thinking of Alexandra Stokes. Not so Ben.
“Come off it, Abby,” he snapped. “You’re not in love with the guy. And you told me yourself that he didn’t turn you on!”
Abby stared at him in astonishment. “Sean? I’m not talking about Sean. I’m talking about your life! The one I know practically nothing about. The one with an Alexandra Stokes who seems to call you faithfully every night. Don’t tell me she’s your sister!”
As seemed to fit a pattern, her outburst quieted Ben. His expression grew less reproachful, more insightful, almost amused. “She’s not,” he admitted gently. “So that’s what’s hanging you up? Alexandra?”
“That was an awful thing that just happened,” she argued in self-defense. “To be in a man’s arms with him trying to convince you to let him spend the night…and then be interrupted by a call from another woman…. You bet it’s hanging me up. Who is she?”
He eyed her askance. “You’re upset that I took it, aren’t you?”
“Of course not!” Yet she did wonder. “It was for the best,” she told herself aloud. “When I’m with you I sometimes forget that that other world exists. Her phone call was a timely reminder.” She caught her breath. “Who is she, Ben?”
Ben had listened to her argument with an undeniably satisfied look on his face. He knew that she’d been just a little bit jealous. He also knew not to dwell on the issue.
“She happens to be my Sean,” he indulged her quietly.
“Your Sean? What do you mean?”
Sighing, he dipped his head, then looked at her over the rims of nonexistent glasses. “Alexandra Stokes is a teaching assistant in the department. She’s working while she finishes her dissertation.”
“You mean, she’s strictly a colleague?” Abby cut in skeptically.
“Let me finish.” His patience was strengthened by clear determination. “No, she’s not strictly a colleague. We’ve been seeing each other for nearly a year.”
“You date.”
“Yes, we date.”
“Does she…does she…live with you?”
“No,” he answered with a knowing smile. “She has her own place.”
“Do you live with her?”
“Abby,” Ben sighed, “if you’re asking whether we sleep together, the answer is no. We’ve had our intimate times…but not lately.”
“Why not?” she heard herself ask and was promptly appalled. Was this really sweet Abby probing a man’s most private life?
His thoughts followed a similar train. “You’re direct,” he allowed with a crooked grin.
“So were you a few minutes ago,” she returned, stating her defense for them both to hear. “You’re asking me to share my…my…self with you. It’s only fair that I know what’s happening with your…self.”
When he laughed aloud, she blushed. “That’s what I love about you, Abby. You’re so warm and open and so much more sophisticated than most. But there’s still this shy side that intrigues me. There are words other than ‘self’ that would express your thoughts more succinctly, you know.”
“I know,” she scowled. “But that brings it down to the most base physical level. And that’s what I’m trying to avoid! You understand what I’m saying; that’s all that counts. So now, what about Alexandra? Why does she call you every night?”
“Why does Sean call you?”
“Sean,” she sighed in exasperation, “calls because he assumes that I’m miserably lonesome. What about Alexandra?”
“Same reason, I suppose.”
“You suppose? But…what does she expect to get out of the relationship? I mean, Sean expects that I’ll turn around one day and fall madly in love with him. He just won’t give up. Don’t tell me that your Alexandra is doing the same?” Ben shrugged in a way that affirmed the situation. “You’re kidding! She’s chasing you?”
“Let’s just say that she’s looking for something far beyond anything I’ve ever promised her.”
“And just what have you promised her?” Abby asked, feeling a strange sympathy for the woman who’d fallen for this tawny-haired Adonis.
But the indignation of her question only evoked a smugness in Ben. “I’ll tell you…if you come sit with me.”
Her curiosity was piqued just enough for her to consider bowing to his suggestion. Then a furtive glance around the room convinced her that she couldn’t do that. The only place fit for two people was the bed and she wouldn’t make that mistake again.
“Shall we go downstairs?” she asked innocently, liking the idea instantly. In fact, she should have proposed it earlier. But then, she hadn’t exactly invited Ben to her room.
“That wasn’t quite what I had in mind,” he answered, eyeing the bed suggestively. One glance back at Abby’s face though and he knew he didn’t have a chance. “Downstairs?” he repeated as if the word were punishment in itself. When she nodded her insistence, he sighed. “Downstairs.”
That was what she loved about him, she mused then. The way he could be strong one minute and humble the next…the way he could first rouse her spirit then tame it in the next breath. He was such a large, overpowering man, imposing in so many ways. To see him soften and give her a point here and there…it never failed to touch her.
Side by side, they descended the stairs. Though Abby felt relieved to be freed from such close quarters, the absence of others even here was a startling fact. She’d half hoped for a swarm of chaperones. “Where is everyone?” she asked, seeing only the desk clerk in the lobby and a guard in the living room.
“It’s after ten. That’s past many a juror’s bedtime,” Ben jibed lightly. “Come. Let’s go out here.” Taking her hand before she could protest, he nodded politely to the guard and headed toward the front porch.
“Who was he?” Abby whispered as Ben opened the door for her.
“A new one, I guess. Poor guy’s got night duty…and on the weekend, no less. Of course, so do we, for that matter…. Say, will you be warm enough? I could run back up for a sweater.”
She shook her head. “I’m fine. It’s sheltered here.”
Ben led her to the far end of the veranda where a large wooden swing stood invitingly. It was lit by only the palest of light that filtered out from the inn. “This is nice,” he mused, taking a deep, chest-expanding breath, “the fresh air.”
“Different from the city, hmmmm?” She recalled those more hectic urban days of her life. “Where were you, Ben?”
He let himself down into the corner opposite that in which she’d settled. Each was angled toward the other, Abby with her legs tucked beneath her, Ben with his crossed at the knee, one foot controlling a gentle rocking of the swing.
“Washington. I did my graduate work at Georgetown and then taught for several years at American.”
“Whew! You certainly picked the city for political science.”
He shrugged his indifference.
“You don’t think so?” she asked, surprised.
“I think that there’s as much to teach and study
and think about up here. I’m not unhappy I made the move.”
Too late she realized that Washington must have been the scene of his personal tragedy. But Ben read her stricken expression and quickly corrected her misconception.
“No. We met when we were students at the University of Wisconsin. While we were married, we lived in Madison.”
“I’m sorry, Ben. I seem to keep reminding you of that.”
“You do,” he agreed, but rather than anger or annoyance there was puzzlement in his tone. He quickly shook it off. “But that’s another matter. You had something you wanted to ask me.”
Something she wanted to ask him? For a minute, she struggled to recall just what it was. Then she laughed at herself. “You’ve done this more than once, Ben Wyeth. You have this way of distracting me until I nearly forget whatever was on my mind.”
“We were talking about Alexandra.”
“Now I remember.” She tucked her arms around her and eyed him in confusion. “You surprise me, Ben. Most men would avoid the issue. You’ve brought it right back.”
“I want you to know about her. There’s nothing to hide. You were asking about promises, I believe?” He got quickly to the point.
“That’s right. I wondered what kind of…arrangement you had with her.”
Comfortably resting his arm against the back of the swing, he chuckled. “Arrangement?” He cleared his throat. “Our arrangement is a strictly dead-ended one. I’ve told her that many times.”
“But she won’t accept it?” How familiar it sounded.
“Nope.”
“And what does she want?”
“Marriage.” The word hit the air with a dagger-sharp edge to it, made so by the thinning of his lips.
“And you don’t want marriage?” she returned more softly.
“No.”
“Ever?” the devil made her ask.
Even the dark couldn’t shroud his sudden intensity. “I’ve already been married. Maybe I’ve…gotten it out of my system.”
Again…the past. Abby wanted to reach out to him, to tell him it could all be different. But who was she to make promises? She’d never lived through his pain.
“You’ve told Alexandra as bluntly that you won’t marry again?”
“Oh, yes. She knows I won’t marry her. But like Sean, she insists on carrying that last shred of hope.”
The night’s silence was broken only by the muted hoot of a distant barn owl. When Abby finally chuckled, she could have sworn Ben did as well. “The similarities are really funny when you stop to think about them,” she began lightly. “Between my Sean and your Alexandra, we’ve got ourselves a pair of lonely hearts. Maybe, if we’re lucky, we can get the two of them together. How would she feel about a doctor?”
“Mmmm…I don’t know,” Ben quipped. “I suppose a doctor’s all right. She is partial to professionals. But what does this Sean of yours look like?” His voice deepened in self-mockery. “After all, Alexandra won’t settle for a man unless he’s tall, dark, and handsome.”
Abby had the perfect antidote to Ben’s tongue-in-cheek arrogance. “Then it might be a perfect match!” she exclaimed. “Sean is the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. He’s gorgeous!”
Her ploy had worked; Ben was less than thrilled. “That’s just fine. But does he like blondes? Slim, willowy ones?” Revenge took silky forms; he deliberately drew out each word.
“I hate her already. What’s a slim, willowy blonde doing getting a Ph.D. in political science? Is she really dedicated?”
“Yup.”
“And,” she scrunched up her face, “really pretty?”
“Yup.”
“Oh.”
Ben regarded her quiet attempt to be nonchalant about it all. Then without warning he reached out and hauled her to his side.
“What are you doing?” she gave a loud whisper. “You said we’d talk!”
“We will. I just want you to be comfortable.” He’d deftly fitted her under his arm and pressed her head to his shoulder. His hand stayed there for safekeeping. “And I want to remind you that it’s you I want, not Alexandra.”
“Uh-oh. That again?” she murmured without denying how comfortable she truly was.
“Yes, Abby. That again. Now that we’ve established that neither of us has other ties, what’s to keep us apart?”
“What’s to—” She started to raise her head, but Ben’s hand brought it right back. “Try the unreality of this whole situation. How about that?”
“Is this unreal?” he asked, stroking the sensitive cord along the side of her neck and gently turning her face up to his. Even in the dark, his eyes held her spellbound. “Or this?” His lips touched hers lightly, sending ripples of excitement through her entire body. “Hmmmm?” he murmured mischievously. His fingers feathered the outer swell of her breast in their bid for a more comfortable hold of her arm.
Abby mustered what little strength he’d left her to put her hand against his lips. They were warm and strong, unfairly inviting. “I feel it, Ben. You know that,” she gasped. “But I still can’t shake the idea that it’s being thrown together like this…that’s causing the attraction.” An image of Patsy, running from a man in shadow, flitted through her mind. “Captivity…isolation…close quarters do things to people.”
“Do you feel anything special for Tom?”
She pulled her head back. “Tom? Tom Herrick? No!”
“How about Richard? Any stirrings when he’s around?”
“Of course not!”
“There! It’s not just the setting. It’s me. Us. Damn it, Abby,” he moaned in frustration, “you’re grasping at straws. You’d respond to my touch whether we were in New York or Washington or…or Madison, Wisconsin. It exists. It’s real. What’s the problem?”
His arms had tightened, gently imprisoning her. She felt the warmth of his breath against her brow and wanted nothing more than to melt into him. But she was frightened. “The problem is me. I didn’t expect this. I’m not ready to accept it.”
Ben stared down at her, his voice dangerously calm. “And I’m not ready to accept that. So where does it leave us?”
She tried to wedge a space between them but she only ended up with her palm spread flat across his chest. “Hung jury?” she offered meekly. She half-wished he’d laugh…but he didn’t.
“Not quite,” he declared. “It looks like we’ll just have to run through the evidence one more time.”
It took her a minute to understand. Even then it was the quickening of his heartbeat that gave him away, an uneven thud beneath her fingertips. When she started to shake her head slowly, he captured her chin and held her still.
“It would be beautiful, Abby,” he crooned. She shut her eyes beneath the sweet torture of lips that touched each in turn.
Beautiful. As opposed to crude? Once more she was locked into the dilemma. “But it’d be…only temporary,” she argued, catching her breath when she felt his tongue by her ear. “It’d be…giving in to an impulse that…scares me.”
“There’s no need to be frightened. I’m here with you.” His voice was deep and husky, a stimulant in itself. Then his mouth found hers again and caressed it with such gentle care that she gave herself up to his keeping, if only for the moment. It seemed unfair to deny herself this simple pleasure. After all, he was just kissing her….
But there were kisses…and there were kisses. Ben’s kisses went beyond even those, sweeping Abby into a realm of pure ecstasy where time lost its meaning.
If only they had been able to go back to the beginning, to start from scratch with each and every kiss. But it didn’t work that way. Anything that had come before…that day, the days prior to it…now added to the flame. They devoured one another hungrily.
Abby felt her whole body come to life. A slow sizzle worked its way through her veins, making her forget all reality but this man and his magnificence. Unknowingly, she slid her arms around his neck and arched against him.
His hand
s easily accommodated her, tracing her curves from thigh to hip to breast in eager exploration. And she gave him ready access, craving more with each passing second.
“Ben…” she sighed her exhilaration against the manly shadow of his beard.
“Feel nice?”
“Mmmmm.” She felt as if she were drunk.
“See how this is,” he whispered, easing her back just enough to unbutton her blouse and shower kisses on her neck and throat. When his lips touched the top swell of her breast, she sucked her breath in sharply.
Eyes closed, lost in sensation, she whispered his name again. She felt his hands on her breasts, stroking them softly, his thumbs circling each nipple, creating peaks without touching. But she wanted him to touch. “Please…!” she cried softly.
An Irresistible Impulse Page 11
