He sounded entirely too pleased with himself, April thought, biting the inside of her cheek. Right again, Frankie. “For this week, at the very least. Consider the doll insurance for anything beyond that until we see where this is going.”
“If you dump me, can I have the doll?”
“Who’s to say you won’t dump me?”
Ben sidled closer, slid a knuckle down the side of her face. Those pale whiskey eyes pinned her to the floor, effectively sucking the air out of her lungs. “I can safely say that’s one thing you don’t have to worry about.”
Wow, April thought, floored by the admission. Then, wow again, when those warm talented lips found hers. Sweet mercy. Ben’s hands cradled her face, pushed into her hair and angled her head to deepen the kiss. It began reverent, a sweet offering, then quickly morphed into the kind of kiss that claimed ownership, demanded heat for heat, made her blood chug languidly through her veins, then race to her womb and warm her nipples.
In short order, he’d melted her heart, then set about incinerating the rest of her.
April wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed herself more closely to him. His scent, something mysterious and woodsy, wound around her senses, and though they were in a public museum in a room full of dark magic and dead things, April felt the seed of orgasm he’d planted last night grow into a tender sprout. Warmth pooled in her sex and a faint but definite throb had begun to beat steadily between her legs.
Evidently reading her mind, Ben shifted until his thigh was between her legs, an exquisite pressure that made her breath catch in her throat.
He dragged his lips away from hers, rained kisses along her jaw, then nuzzled next to her ear and nipped at her lobe while simultaneously pushing his thigh harder against her.
Pleasure barbed through her. Her neck weakened. Her toes curled.
Sweet heaven.
“I dreamed of you again last night,” he murmured, rhythmically flexing his leg beneath her.
“Tell me.”
Ben slid his hands over her rump, squeezed and growled low in his throat. She’d purposely worn a pair of rayon-spandex blend pants. No panty lines. “It was the same dream. You came to my back door. And you were wearing that long sheer white gown—a vintage one, I think, because at first I thought you were a ghost. I tried to talk to you, but you wouldn’t answer me. You walked in, took my hand and led me to my bedroom.” He laughed softly and she felt him nudge her belly. “From there it gets X-rated.”
April leaned forward and sucked at his neck, pulling another deep growl of approval from his throat. “I’m of age. Do tell,” she murmured suggestively.
Ben anchored his hands at her hips, pressed her more firmly against his leg, causing little flames of heat to flare in her loins. “You rocked my world,” he said softly. “You stripped me, pushed me down onto the bed, then kissed, licked and suckled every part—and I do mean every part—of me. But you wouldn’t let me touch you,” he whispered roughly. “Every time I tried, you’d shake your head. I knew that if I disobeyed you, the dream would end, so I decided to enjoy letting you have your way with me.”
April chuckled against his ear. “And that was such a hardship?”
“Oh, no. I loved every minute of it. You made love to me. Other than pumping into you while you rode me—your hair spilling over your shoulders, pouty nipples, sweet belly, oh, God—it was…effortless. I was the object of your lust and your only goal was to bring me pleasure. Trust me, babe. No hardship.”
A wildfire raged in April’s body as the image he’d just painted rose readily in her mind. She stilled, her breath coming in short puffs, as though what he’d described had just happened. Would that she could dream that way, April thought, envying him the sleeping fantasy.
Effortless, he’d said. She’d taken him. In his dreams, the master of seduction had been seduced himself. And it was to her that he’d given that power.
Heady stuff, that, April thought.
A feminine chuckle sounded in the background, bringing them back to reality. They slowly melted apart. “Now I see why you were interested in the penis voodoo doll,” the curator murmured thoughtfully. She treated Ben to a leisurely inspection, then made a growling mmm-hmm sound of approval and nodded succinctly. “Were he my man, I’d have one, too.”
To April’s astonishment, Ben actually blushed. “She won’t be needing one.”
“Oh, yes I will,” April said, moving toward the door. “I’m not taking any chances.”
Five minutes later, much to Ben’s scowling displeasure, she’d purchased the doll and secured it in her purse. They’d wandered around the corner to a local bar. The smell of draft beer and craw-fish perfumed the air and the sound of slow jazz played from hidden speakers. They’d arrived at that quiet time between lunch and five, so other than the regulars, she and Ben were alone in the bar.
He took a pull from his longneck bottle of beer and idly nodded toward her handbag. “Now that would be an interesting object to explain to airport security.”
April grinned. “I’m not planning on traveling any time soon.”
“I can’t believe you did that,” he said, shaking his head.
She snorted. “I can’t believe that I’m the only woman you’ve ever dated that has one.”
He almost choked again. “What?”
“Come on,” she needled. “You can’t tell me that you haven’t left a few broken hearts in your wake.”
“Not intentionally.”
“No one serious?”
Ben considered her a moment and that amber gaze tangled with hers. “One,” he admitted. “It didn’t work out.”
“Sorry,” she said, though it was a lie. If it had worked out, she and Ben wouldn’t be here right now, wouldn’t have that second chance. “What was the scoop on that relationship?”
Ben tipped his beer back. “She wasn’t you.”
This time, April almost choked. Her gaze flew to his. “Oh.”
“What about you?” he asked. “Other than the guy who chased away your orgasm, has there been anyone else? One who got away?”
April shook her head, opting for complete honesty. “Nope,” she said, releasing a heavy sigh. “You’ve always been the one that got away.”
He bit his lip and a beat slid to three. “I’m still hooked, April. All you’ve got to do is reel me in.”
8
“I FORBID YOU TO SEE HIM.”
And that was the end of that conversation, April thought, disconnecting. Hanging up on one’s mother was undoubtedly disrespectful, rude, even, but respect was earned and Morgana’s supply had been depleted a long time ago. Any points she’d scored in raising April had been obliterated by her continued manipulative behavior.
In short, she was poison, and April had learned the antidote was removing Morgana from her world.
Predictably, her cell rang once more. A check of the display confirmed that it was her mother again. April heaved a put-upon sigh and reluctantly answered. “You can’t forbid anything,” April said matter-of-factly. “If you have something to say that doesn’t pertain to my private life, then please continue. Otherwise, this conversation is over.”
“Why, April?” her mother wailed madly. “Why? Of all the men in this city, in this part of the country, in the bloody world, why must you take up with that one?”
“Because I want to.” Good grief, April thought. She’d expected some fallout, but this was over the top, even for her mother.
Looking back, April could understand her mother’s feelings regarding her and Ben when she was younger—the close proximity, the intense feelings they’d shared for one another. For a parent hoping to keep her daughter’s virginity intact, it was definitely a nightmare.
Curiously, though, April had never suspected that sort of motivation from her mother. There had been something entirely more…personal about it.
Frankly, even then April had gotten the impression that if she’d wanted to surrender her virginity to anyone other tha
n Ben, it would have been fine. Her mother would have whisked her off to the gynecologist for birth control pills—no way in hell would she have trusted a boy to don a condom—and that would have been the end of it.
But it had been Ben then and it was Ben now. And the differences between then and now were ten years and April’s blatant disregard for the woman who’d birthed her. Was she cold? Yes, probably. But Morgana Wilson was a high-maintenance, hard person to love.
Even her father, one of the kindest men April had ever known, had found it impossible.
“Can’t you see that he’s only doing this to get back at me? That he’s thumbing his nose at me for running off his worthless hide the last time he came sniffing around you? For God’s sake, April,” Morgana said, thoroughly disgusted, “have some pride.”
April felt her lips curl with angry humor. Like she’d said—poison. “I know this is hard for you to grasp, Morgana, but everything—”
“It’s Mother,” she interrupted tightly. “I’m your mother, damn you.”
April snorted. Morgana had lost the right to that title a long time ago. “—but everything,” she continued doggedly, “is not about you.”
“Mark my words,” Morgana predicted smugly. “You’ll be sorry. And when you are, I’ll expect an apology.”
Yeah. When hell freezes over, April thought. Hands shaking, she ended the call once more, then tossed the cell phone aside. If her mother called back, she simply wouldn’t answer.
Now this was interesting, April thought, trying her best to get her mother’s dire prediction out of her head. She wasn’t speaking to her mother and her father wasn’t speaking to her. Talk about dysfunctional.
Ben had told her yesterday afternoon that her mother had been by his office, so she’d expected a call. Honestly, she couldn’t believe that her mother had abandoned the home front—she rarely ventured into public anymore, evidently the stigma attached to being a divorced woman was too much to bear—and had actually come to see him. Much to April’s secret delight, Ben had sent her packing and had told her in no uncertain terms that he didn’t have any intention of “staying the hell away from her.”
Honestly, she didn’t wish her mother any undue stress, but the woman needed to butt out of her business and stop trying to micromanage her. From the instant April had moved out from under Morgana’s roof, she’d resisted all of her mother’s attempts to manage her. Being able to make her own way had been the driving force behind getting her education and making her business a success. She’d be damned if she’d revert now, particularly to satisfy her mother’s bizarre resistance to Ben.
Speaking of whom…if his little “I’m hooked” announcement over beers yesterday afternoon had been any indication, he definitely wanted to continue things beyond this week. In fact, what he’d actually said was “I’m still hooked” which implied that, like her, he’d never gotten over their relationship, either.
April couldn’t claim that they’d picked up right where they’d left off. They were older, more mature. Back then, their dates had consisted of church hayrides and stolen trips to the river, picnics and sitting on the front porch. Other than her mother’s habit of casting a pall over everything, they’d had little to worry about. They’d focused every bit of their attention on one another and the future they’d hoped to have.
Now there were deadlines and insurance, cable bills and past relationships. With maturity had come reticence, particularly, she knew, on her own part. The thing was…Ben had been her hero, her knight in shining armor. It had been too much to foist upon a teenage boy, she knew now. And the best part about becoming an adult had been learning she could save herself.
But that didn’t help assuage the prick of hurt that still smarted, even after all these years. Though she knew it was unreasonable—and though she hated her mother for saying it—a small part of her worried that she would be sorry. That she’d embrace the opportunity for a second chance and something else would go wrong.
That’s why, for the moment at any rate, she planned to continue practicing self-delusion and tell herself that it was all about the sex, that these sweet, heartwarming aspirations Ben kept casting upon their future together were just part of her customized, tricked-out seduction.
He’d called her bright and early this morning, before she’d even rolled out of bed, and had asked her to spend the day with him. He was working in-the-field and would like her to come along for the ride. The ride, she’d finally gotten out of him, was literally a ride. Ultimately, he explained, this was how he worked. He got into his car and drove around, weaving in and out of back roads until he found a subject that struck his fancy.
This sounded like something they would have done in the past so she’d been inordinately pleased that he’d asked. She’d called Margo and Joyce and given them the heads-up that she wouldn’t be in today, then dressed in something warm and comfortable.
Ben was loading up his SUV with various camera accessories when she pulled into the small parking lot behind his office. He looked up and smiled when he saw her, making her heart do an odd little pirouette.
She walked over and peered into the back of his vehicle. “What’s with the picnic basket?”
“You’ll wanna eat, won’t you?”
“Do I look like I miss a meal?”
Ben settled his rear against the back of the open hatch, grasped her hand and tugged her forward until she leaned fully into him. Hot goose bumps erupted on her skin and a sigh of pure contentment seeped past her lips as she looped her arms around his neck and met those twinkling smooth whiskey eyes.
“You look like lunch to me,” he said suggestively, “but I figured you might get hungry.”
“Oh, I’m sure I could find a little something to munch on,” she said coyly.
His eyes widened with masculine outrage. “A little something?”
April threw her head back and laughed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to insult little Ben.”
“Little again.” He gave his head a lamenting shake. “You’re hard on a guy’s ego.”
April batted her lashes shamelessly. “Thank you. I try.”
Ben reluctantly helped her stand. “Yeah, well. We need to work on you setting some new goals.” He threaded his fingers through hers. “Come on,” he said. “I need to tell Claudette that we’re leaving.”
April followed him through a back door and down a long hall. Finally they reached the lobby area she’d waited in that first day she’d come to his office. Once again she was struck by the masculine elegance of the office.
Claudette looked up as they approached. “Good morning,” she said.
“I just wanted to let you know that I’m heading out,” Ben said. “I’ll have my cell, but don’t count on it having service.”
Seemingly pleased, his secretary nodded. April felt her lips twitch. Evidently Ben taking off to parts unknown without having the courtesy to let Claudette know where he was going had been a problem. No more, it would seem, April thought, pleased with both his effort and Claudette’s improving self-worth.
Though Ben was not privy to it, April knew exactly what had gotten into Claudette—Chicks In Charge.
When Ben had mentioned that April was going to design his site, Claudette, good secretary that she was, had visited April’s own Web site, inspected several of her designs—like Chicks In Charge, for instance—and had e-mailed various clients, asking if they were happy with April’s work.
Evidently the Chicks In Charge site had piqued Claudette’s interest and within a matter of hours, April had given the woman her own personal testimonial as to what the organization had done for her. Claudette had attended a chapter meeting the night before last and the rest, as they say, was history.
“If I don’t see you before you come back, I’ll put your messages on your desk,” Claudette told him.
Ben thanked her, then looked at April. “You ready?”
“Sure.”
“All right then.” He found her hand once more
, the gesture unwitting and uncalculated, as though he merely wanted to touch her, then propelled her back toward the hall.
April shot a look over her shoulder at Ben’s secretary. “Bye, Claudette.”
Claudette winked at her. “Goodbye, Ms. Wilson.”
Ben had turned just in time to see Claudette’s silent message. He frowned down at April as they retraced their steps down the hall. “What was that all about?”
“What?” she asked innocently.
“She winked at you.”
“She did? I hadn’t noticed.”
He cocked his head. “She winked. I saw her.”
April shrugged. “She might have had something in her eye.”
Still looking adorably confused, Ben stared at her for a few seconds longer, then shook his head and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “women.”
LOOKING SLEEK and beautiful in her shades, April sat in the passenger seat next to him, her small hand enfolded loosely in his. “Are you having a good time?”
They’d been at it for a few hours, driving aimlessly, stopping every once in a while for him to frame a few shots. He’d even convinced her to let him take a few of her. Honestly, people had never been quite as inspiring to him as architecture, but something about April in particular made his fingers itch to capture her on film.
She turned her head to face him. “Yeah, I am. This is very interesting. I had no idea all of these old structures were out here.”
He negotiated a turn. “Most people don’t.” He lifted a shoulder in a negligent shrug. “Personally, I enjoy looking for them as much as I enjoy finding them.”
She shot him a grin. “Yeah. I’d noticed that.” She paused. “Seriously, it’s fascinating. And you are very good at what you do.”
For whatever reason, her respect and approval meant more than he would have ever thought possible. He nodded, trying to think of something witty to say, but found himself unable to come up with anything. He settled for a simple thank-you. “You’re good at what you do, too. Did I tell you that I looked at the initial design you’d sent me?”
Getting It Right! Page 9
