by S. L. Scott
“Kind of or was?”
“Was.”
“I stood there and stared at it. I traced the letters and the heart. I wished you were there.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“Because you were with your family. Why haven’t you been to see them?”
“I’ve told you why.”
“But that can’t be it. It’s your world even if I’m not in it.”
“No, Grace. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to be in this world if you weren’t in it.”
Taking his hand in hers, their elbows rested on the top of the bar. Then their fingers entwined and she kissed the top of his hand. “Live, just to prove you can. Don’t waste your life.”
“It’s not wasting my life. It’s living for the right reasons.”
She took a deep breath. On the exhale, she asked, “Am I the right reason?”
“You’re the only reason.”
“I didn’t just care about the tree, Ben. I care about you. We have so much history together.” This time he kissed her hand. Grace’s heart soared like it had so many times when with him. She could feel herself falling for him. She didn’t know if it was slow and steady the first time around, but this time it was fast and sure, leaving no room for doubts. She felt secure in his presence. She felt capable and respected. He was so handsome, and the way he looked at her—the love he showed her was endless and beautiful.
“We would’ve had a future together if—”
Grace’s phone rang just as Ben began to talk. She looked at him as if she wanted to say something but didn’t, the interruption of the phone breaking their moment. “Excuse me,” she said as she grabbed the phone from her purse and answered it. “Hello?”
“Why are you in Seattle with that man?” Hunter roared on the other end of the call.
Grace walked away from the bar and into the lobby for more privacy. “Hunter, I tried to tell you—”
“You told me you wanted to pursue this, not that you were leaving Chicago with him and going back to Leavenworth. You’re sneaking around behind my back. You’re paying for a hotel room for the two of you to share. The credit card company called me to authorize these charges. Are you even thinking clearly anymore? He’s using you and fucking with your head.” Even through the phone, she could hear Hunter was breathing heavily. “I’ve been working for thirty-six hours straight; I have been anxious to come home to you, especially when I received that call saying you’d skipped town. What the fuck are you doing, Jane?”
“Don’t talk to me like that, Hunter. I have every right to know who my family . . . Wait, how did you know I was from Leavenworth?”
Grace felt her blood boil as her mind clouded with erratic thoughts. The box. The ring. The flyer. The box. The ring. The flyer. Those words were on repeat in her head.
“The credit card company said the hotel was in Seattle.”
“I asked you how you knew about Leavenworth.” I hadn’t even known where I was from.
“You told me, Jane.” He kept his tone bitter, but firm.
“No, I didn’t. I never said Leavenworth.”
She was so softly spoken, but her fury raged inside as she took the phone away from her ear and stared down at it.
“Jane?”
He called her name numerous times before she lifted it to her ear again and spoke, making sure he understood her clearly, “Hunter, I’m hanging up now.”
“Jane, please don’t. Talk to me, sweetheart.” His tone was almost pleading at this point. Almost. He was still trying to hang on to the control he had over her. What he didn’t realize was that he’d already lost her. She’d found her backbone.
“My name is Grace, but you knew that, didn’t you?”
“What? I—”
“I’m going to hang up now.”
He knew. About everything. He knew who Grace was. He’d known she was from Leavenworth. None of that took away the fact that he had helped her from the moment he showed up at the scene of the accident. She tried to level her tone and stick to the facts. “If we talk right now you won’t like the outcome. I’ll talk to you when I get back.” She hung up on him before he had a chance to say another word, much less argue with her, and turned the phone off. If she kept the phone on, he wouldn’t give her peace. The one thing she knew about Hunter Barnes: he was relentless until he got what he wanted.
Her head hurt and she felt like she had been stabbed in the heart. He knew. He knew all along. The box. The ring. The flyer. Leavenworth. Hunter knew from the beginning. She sank into an orange leather couch and wrapped her arms around her stomach trying to stop the pain enveloping her, and then bent over as it crushed her. She didn’t know if she wanted to cry, yell, puke, or drink away the memories of Hunter and Jane, but the last was sounding pretty damn good about now. She felt so betrayed. Why did Hunter do that?
“Hey there, everything okay?” Ben sat down next to her and rubbed her back.
She sat up. Looking at Ben she suddenly felt strong again. “Charge a bottle of Grey Goose to the room and let’s drink upstairs.”
They shared a long look that was enough for him to reply, “Okay, I’ll be right back.” He handed her purse to her and started back to the bar.
“I’ll meet you upstairs,” she called to him.
* * *
A knock, then two more.
Grace went to the door and knocked automatically—one, and then three fast repeats. When she finished she realized what she had just done. She had knocked to a rhythm by memory. Quickly, she opened the door and saw Ben smiling. “You knew.”
“I knew.”
The bottle of vodka was tucked under his arm. His hands were full. He held a cup full of olives, lemons, and two martini glasses. Grace had already changed into her sleepwear, a tank top and little cotton Wonder Woman underwear, but they weren’t little kid underwear. These were made for a woman and for one reason only, to bring a guy’s fantasy to life. Ben’s gulp when she stood in front of him was classic and had her inwardly fist-pumping. Wanting to push it a little further, she turned and walked to the window, shaking her ass along the way.
“Can I make a drink?”
“I’d love one,” she replied, peeking back over her shoulder.
He set everything down on the dresser and got to work. He didn’t ask what she wanted but made a martini—dirty with three olives—and brought it to her.
Taking a rather large sip, she kept her eyes on his. As the liquor burned her throat, she closed her eyes and swallowed. Following that up, she took two more to loosen her mind and body, and to rid herself of worries of past and present.
Her gaze slid down his body, and she noted, “I think you’re overdressed for a slumber party, Ben. You’re not going to make me do this alone, are you?”
Leaning against the dresser, he seemed content to play along. “Only if you promise we can have a pillow fight later.”
Grace snort-giggled and rolled her eyes. “That is such a typical male fantasy. You’re not typical. Tell me what you really fantasize about.” She sat down in a chair and propped her feet up on the table so she could properly appreciate the view of Ben.
“What do I fantasize about?” he asked. Ben reached for his jeans and popped the first button open. “I have a feeling this is going to be a very interesting night.”
“Remember what I said about wasting time?”
“Yes.”
“Say it for me.”
“Don’t waste a minute.”
“Don’t waste them, Ben.”
24
Ben Edwards
Sipping her martini, Grace’s eyes were set on Ben as his fingers deftly unzipped his jeans. He liked the way she watched him. He liked the way she was practically naked in front of him and full of confidence. Ben didn’t say anything as he revealed his navy-blue boxers, sliding his jeans down his legs.
Grace took a swig of her martini and popped one of the olives into her mouth while challenging him with her eyes. He took that challen
ge and upped the ante by unbuttoning his shirt. He took it off and tossed it on the bed. This was a game of wills, and actions would win over words.
Strip poker, strip blackjack, strip anything—that was so completely Grace. She had once been insatiable when it came to games of the sexual variety. She had never been shy around him, something that really turned him on. The comfort she’d found with her body was because he’d treated her like she deserved. She was a sensual woman, a fantasy come to life, a soul mate who could bare herself and would never see anything but love and desire in his eyes.
She didn’t realize what she was doing, her instincts connecting with the woman he once knew, her heart leading her head. Such a fucking turn-on.
After readjusting in the chair, she tucked her legs under her and stretched her arms straight into the air in a showy kind of way, maybe even a little flirty. Ben watched her advertise her perky breasts and hard nipples, and he liked how he affected her. He’d missed the fullness and weight of her tits in his hands, the softness as he took hold of them and loved on them. He yanked his undershirt off over his head, and now stood in front of her in just his boxers.
Grace finished her martini, ate the remaining two olives, and let her eyes travel over his body. Her eyes landed on his boxer shorts. A sly grin wavered into place as she stared at his tented underwear, a sense of pride seen in the light from the lamp as it flickered in her eyes. “You said you want me.”
“I do. You said the same.” Ben rubbed his eyes, willing his dick down into submission and trying to decipher the million thoughts racing through his head.
“I meant what I said.”
He was losing this game and knew it. “Fuck, Grace, I fantasize about having you underneath me and on top of me. I fantasize about making love to you and then fucking you.” He motioned to his traitorous body part that seemed to have a mind of its own. “I think that’s pretty obvious, but—”
“I want you too, but you’re right, we shouldn’t . . .”
Thrown off, he had no choice but to agree with what she wanted. “It would be wrong.” It would feel so right though. “I don’t want to take advantage of you when you’re taken already.”
“Hunter and I are done.” She held up her empty glass and waved it in the air like a trophy.
He’d just been played.
Game.
Set.
Match.
Tested. She was good. Very good. His confession came with respect for her and her obligations. He’d passed with flying colors or she wouldn’t have rewarded him with that final admission. She was done with the doctor. Ben had won and victory would never taste better.
Ben’s eyes settled on his target. Slowly, he stalked toward her, still stunned by what she had just said. He wasn’t sure what he would reply or if he should at all. Maybe I’m sorry. How does that make you feel? None of those seemed to fit, and he didn’t know the protocol for a woman breaking up with someone she should have never been with in the first place. Leaving someone who had stolen and then kept the love of his life from him for three years. He took her glass and made her another drink. As he dropped the olives into the glass, he took notice that his fellow down below had gone back to sleep. The mention of fiancés or exes were magic like that.
He sat down in the other chair by the window, and she propped her feet up on his legs, one of his hands automatically taking hold of her foot and rubbing it lightly. “Do you want to talk about it?” Because I sure want to. I’m more than happy to rip the asshole to shreds so she really understands who she has been living with.
“Not tonight. Tonight, I want to drink.”
“Grace, I know that phone call upset you, and I’d bet money you were talking to Hunter. You don’t have to talk to me, but you could talk to Emily if you’d like or one of our mothers . . . that is if you don’t have anyone in Chicago you can talk to.”
Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes and rolled her neck to the side. When she opened them again, she said, “I’ve often thought about how I never saw that taxi.” Pausing, she swirled her olives around her glass. “I must have had a lot on my mind that day to not see it coming, don’t you think?”
He didn’t usually drink straight vodka and after a few sips he knew why. It burned, but it also relaxed him, and that felt good. Ben relaxed into the seat and sipped his drink. He hated thinking about that day and usually redirected his thoughts to focus on solutions and his search for Grace. But here she was in front of him mostly naked—looking fucking sexy—bringing him back to a day he hated, regretted, and that had devastated so many lives. He kept his mouth shut, hoping she was being rhetorical.
She said, “Knowing I was a month away from our wedding makes sense to me. It’s crazy planning a wedding. There are so many details to make it ‘special.’ In retrospect, I would’ve been much happier with a smaller affair.”
Ben wasn’t positive if she was talking about their wedding or the one to Barnes. He assumed it was the one with Barnes since she didn’t remember the details of the one they’d been planning. She slid down into the chair a little farther and rested her head on the back, turning to face the city, but added, “They say Hunter saved me that day, but since I’ve met you, I’ve realized he sentenced me to death instead.” Ben saw a tear roll down her cheek. “He picked the name Jane. I know, I know, Jane Doe and all that, but he just really liked the name Jane, and I wanted to make him happy. It was like a thank-you gift to him since I didn’t have anything else to give.”
“You had everything to give, and he took more than he should have. He took all of you, Grace. He took your life and twisted it into what he wanted.” Ben stopped himself, but it wasn’t easy. He was so angry. His father had warned him about too much too soon, but the words and emotions were raging inside him. His control was slipping and a nagging thought kept coming back to his mind, a thought he despised and refused to believe. What if she was meant to be with him? Maybe she was Barnes’s destiny, and not mine. He hated even considering that. Barnes wouldn’t consider it. Barnes hadn’t considered it. He hadn’t cared about the life she had unconsciously left behind, the life that had been plugged with a Barnes-sized hole in her mind.
Ben held his tongue from saying more, not wanting to upset her. He wanted to comfort her, to stop any more tears from falling, but he wasn’t sure what he should do. He set her feet on the ground and stood up. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” His tone was flat, defeated. He didn’t have the energy or will to keep acting like everything was normal when it wasn’t. It was hard to stay positive when the road ahead of them was full of obstacles.
What about the information he discovered? Should he tell her? Would it make things better or worse? It’s always the messenger who paid the price. Was he willing to sacrifice what he wanted to deliver the news that could devastate her? He needed solid proof, and that wasn’t going to come until he did his homework in Chicago. Grace had shut the door on Hunter already, even though he didn’t know why. But Ben wanted solid proof to keep it shut and locked forever.
“What about our pillow fight?” Grace sat forward, her hand reaching for him.
“A rain check, okay?” He left the vodka on the table, used the bathroom, and then slipped under the covers of his bed, cursing under his breath that they had separate beds. He wanted to sleep with her again after all these years. The night on the couch was so good. The night before in the hotel even better, but he wanted more, more that he couldn’t have. “Good night, Grace.”
The room was quiet as she remained by the window and then walked around and turned off the lamp between the two beds. The shuffle of the sheets was the first indication. Her waiting with her hand on his shoulder the next. He scooted over and she climbed in, wordlessly snuggling her backside against his front. “Good night, Ben.” I love you, Grace. I’ve never stopped.
His arm draped over her body holding her close and they fell asleep.
* * *
At the first light of dawn, Ben’s squinted his eye
s open. Damn! 5:23 a.m. The drapes were wide open. He moved his body out from under Grace’s arm and leg and shut the curtains. He detoured to the bathroom before returning to bed. She stirred but stayed asleep. As soon as he was settled back in bed, she shifted and her leg promptly returned to its original spot on top of his thigh, her knee dipping between his legs. Her arm came up from her side and brushed across his boxers, waking “him” up, and then her arm continued up his abs, coming to relax across his chest. Still soundly sleeping, she turned her head, her breath warming his shoulder. They’d slept like that for years, and he wanted that again desperately.
Ben loved that her body accepted him back into her life so easily. He wasn’t surprised that her body felt like home to him. And he loved that her breath remained deep and steady against him, showing how relaxed she was. She trusted him.
He wanted her back so bad and sometimes, times like these, it was difficult for him to respect boundaries, to be patient, and to not rush things. He had to remember that her brain protected her the day of the accident and locked her memories away. He hoped his love would be the key to unlock them.
* * *
Grace Stevens
Hot.
Sweaty.
Loved.
Wonderful.
Grace awoke feeling all of those things. She lifted the dead weight of Ben’s arm off her and slid out to use the bathroom. When she returned, she saw the time. 7:45.
She only had today before she had to return to confront Hunter, so she was going to make the most of it. She climbed back into bed, trying not to disturb Ben. He was quick, even in his sleep. His arm found its way back across her chest, rubbing against her boob until he finally settled it across her stomach.
8:57 a.m. Ben opened his eyes and found Grace watching him. She smiled while he reached over and touched her cheek. “Hello.” His voice was low, and slightly groggy, completely sexy. “You’re more beautiful every day.”
