by Nora Roberts
“San Francisco mostly. I have a place there. Another in New York. But I don’t think of either of them as home.”
“Then why stay there?”
He shrugged. “My work. It keeps me hopping from coast to coast. Maybe it’s best that way. No time to get restless.”
“Restless for what?”
Roots, he thought. But aloud he merely said, “Did I say ‘restless’? Maybe a better word is ‘bored.’”
“Do you get bored easily?”
“I wouldn’t know. There’s never been time to find out.” He stood up, uncomfortable talking about himself. “Hungry?”
“A little. But there’s no way to cook anything.”
“Want to bet?” He pointed to the fireplace. “We heated our coffee, didn’t we? Besides, we ought to be able to find something that doesn’t require cooking. What would you like?” He picked up a candle and led the way toward the kitchen.
“Something simple.” Annie took up her own candle and followed.
He rummaged through the refrigerator. “My mother was up here last week with her housekeeper, Rose, and a couple of the staff to catalog all the furniture. If I know my mother, she would have left enough food behind to feed an army.” He grinned. “As long as the army had gourmet tastes. Mother has a fondness for champagne and caviar.”
Annie sighed. “I like the sound of your mother.”
“You’d like her. She can be rather abrupt. She can’t abide fools. But she has a marvelous sense of humor.”
“And exquisite taste.” Annie studied the silver coffee service artfully displayed behind the glass doors of a cabinet. Her grandmother’s had been similar and had been in the family for generations. It had broken her heart to sell it. And the house. But the medical bills had left her with little choice and even less pride.
“Ah. Here we are.” Ben held up an assortment of cheeses. “We don’t have to cook these. What’s your pleasure? We have Brie, Cheddar, Gouda.”
“Brie.”
“My choice, too.” He returned the others to the refrigerator, then searched through the cupboards until he located a package of thin wafers.
Annie found a knife and plate and a little silver basket for the wafers.
Ben was laughing when he snatched up a round tin. “Good old Mother. I knew she’d have something to satisfy that sweet tooth. How about some petit fours for dessert?”
“Perfect.” Annie handed him the knife, and he unsealed the tin. Then they carried their treasures to the great room where they arranged them on the coffee table.
Ben settled himself beside her on the sofa and watched as Annie spread Brie on a wafer before handing it to him.
He tasted, then gave a sigh of pleasure. “Perfect.”
Annie nodded as she bit into hers. “I can see that it doesn’t take much to make you happy. Cheese, stale coffee, and a warm fire.”
“There’s something to be said for being warm, dry, and well fed.” He chuckled as he leaned back, thoroughly enjoying himself. “Listen to that wind and rain outside. I’m just glad I’m not out on my sailboat.”
“Or anchored in a cove somewhere. You’d be spending a pretty rough night.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time. I’ve spent plenty of nights riding out a storm.”
She sipped her coffee. “Then you’re not just a weekend sailor?”
He chuckled. “I suppose I am now. But when I was younger I thought seriously about joining a crew to vie for the America’s Cup.”
“Really?” She turned to look at him more closely. He had an athlete’s body. Lean. Muscled. And the casual confidence of a man who took pride in everything he did. “How exciting. Why didn’t you?”
“It would have meant at least a year’s commitment in New Zealand. My father’s health was already beginning to fail. It wouldn’t have been fair to my family, or to my team. So I took a pass.”
“Did you ever regret it?”
He shook his head. “No. My father died six months later. I’ll always be grateful for the time we had. Those last months were especially sweet. We learned a lot about each other, and about ourselves, that I’ll always cherish. No trophy in the world could mean as much to me.”
Annie nodded, moved by his words. “It was the same for me. My friends couldn’t understand how I could give up my career in New York and move to a town like Tranquility to care for my grandmother. But the simple truth is, I didn’t give up anything. I got much more than I gave.”
Ben spread cheese on a wafer and offered it to her. As their fingers brushed, he smiled. “It’s nice to find someone who understands. Not too many people do.”
She sighed, struggling to ignore the rush of heat from his touch. “I suppose it has to be experienced before it’s understood.”
“Like love.” Now where had that come from? He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. He gave her a sideways glance. “Ever been in love?”
She stared down into her coffee, avoiding his eyes. “I thought I was.”
But that was before. Before she’d boldly told Jason she was giving up her job in New York and starting over in Maine. Before she’d learned that love meant something very different to some than it did to others.
“Tranquility?” he’d said with a laugh. “You want me to relocate with you to a town called Tranquility? And what am I supposed to do there?”
“The same thing you do here. You’re a songwriter, Jason. Why can’t you write songs in Tranquility?”
“Because I need this city. I need the hustle, the drama, the pressure that only New York can offer. This city is my muse.”
That had cut. Deeply. “I thought you said I was your muse, Jason.”
“You are, baby. As long as you’re here with me in New York. But if you leave, Annie, you leave without me.”
And she had. Without a backward glance. But, oh, how it had hurt.
She dragged herself back from her thoughts and reached for a petit four. She bit into it, then sighed. “Oh, that’s heavenly.” She took another bite and finished the confection.
Ben watched her through narrowed eyes. She’d gone somewhere unpleasant in her mind. But to her credit, she’d pulled herself back without too much trouble. If only he could do the same. Whenever he allowed himself to venture into the darker parts of his mind, he usually ended up wallowing in misery for hours.
To keep from going there, he concentrated on the woman beside him. He enjoyed watching her eat. She seemed to derive a great deal of pleasure from such a simple thing. It suddenly occurred to him that he was having a marvelous time. It was something he hadn’t experienced in quite a while.
A simple conversation with another human being. And not just anyone. A beautiful, fascinating woman. One he wanted to know better.
“Well.” She glanced up. “We haven’t seen a flash of lightning or heard a rumble of thunder in more than an hour. I think it’s safe to go up to bed now.”
“So soon?” He hated the idea. He didn’t want her to leave. He was having far too good a time.
When she got to her feet, he stood up beside her and shot her a dangerous smile. “We could continue this upstairs. Your room or mine?”
She struggled to keep her tone even. “I sleep alone.”
“That’s what I was afraid of. But you might be sorry.” He caught her by the shoulders and stared down into her eyes with a look that could have melted glaciers. “You never know when the storm could heat up again and you’ll wish you had someone to turn to.”
“Thanks for the offer. I’ll let you know if I need you.”
He drew her fractionally closer. “What if I need you?”
“Don’t, Ben.” She put a hand to his chest to stop him.
“I can’t seem to help myself.” His voice was low now, seductive, as were the hands that moved ever so slowly along the tops of her arms. “I don’t know what’s come over me. But I have to taste those lips.” He whispered the words against her mouth as his lips covered hers.
She hadn�
��t been prepared for the heat. Or for the jolt to her heart. The blood roared like thunder in her ears. Her pulse hammered against her temples, and she could have sworn the floor tilted beneath her feet.
It lasted no more than a few seconds, but it was long enough for her hands to curl into the front of his sweater, though she didn’t know how they got there. The breath backed up in her throat, and her mind spun like a top.
“I think…” She finally managed to surface and push herself stiffly out of his arms. “I’d better get upstairs.” Fast. Before she embarrassed herself by begging him for another breathless ride on that roller coaster.
“What’s your hurry?”
“You.” She put out a hand to his chest before he could draw her close again. “You’re making moves I’m not ready for.”
“Sorry. I didn’t plan it. It just…happened.” In fact, he was as startled as she. Where had all this come from?
“Well, see that it doesn’t happen again.”
She looked up. His eyes were in shadow, and there was that dangerous curve of his mouth. Oh, what a mouth! One that was simply made for kissing.
She picked up the candle and backed away. “Good night.”
“Good night, Annie.”
He watched as she climbed the stairs. Then he turned to stare into the fire.
He’d never before met a woman who had stirred him so with a simple kiss. And the mere thought of going upstairs and following up on that kiss agitated him more than he cared to admit.
So much for satisfying his curiosity. What he’d learned about Annie Tyler was that touching her was dangerous. And kissing her was deadly.
4
ANNIE MANAGED TO open one eye, but she quickly shut it again at the stab of light that assaulted her. How could it possibly be morning so soon? Hadn’t she just closed her eyes a few minutes ago?
She remembered climbing the stairs to her room, could recall blowing out the candle and sinking back onto the pillows. She’d spent what seemed an agonizing hour or more thinking about Ben Carrington and her strange reaction to his kiss.
His sizzling kiss, she reminded herself. She had never in her life been kissed like that. Without touching her in any other way, he’d engaged her senses so completely that she had continued to vibrate with need until sleep claimed her.
And now she was awake. Though she wished she could roll over and steal another hour, she knew by the way her mind was racing that she would never be able to get back to sleep.
A glance at the darkened bedside clock confirmed that the power still hadn’t been restored. She picked up her watch. It read seven forty-five. Then she realized that was the exact time when the grandfather clock downstairs had stopped. She shook her watch and tapped it repeatedly against her palm, but lit remained silent. She moaned in frustration. At least the storm had blown over, she told herself.
She padded to the bathroom, where she endured a frigid, and very quick, sponge bath. A short time later, as she rummaged through the closet, she was distressed to discover that the ceiling had leaked and all her clothes were thoroughly soaked. She glanced down at her nightshirt and groaned aloud. There was no way she could parade around all day in this. Not with Ben Carrington watching.
Swallowing her pride, she made her way downstairs in search of him. She found him in the great room, just putting another log on the fire.
He looked up with a grin. “ ’Morning.” He gave her a long, slow look, and the heat instantly rose to to her cheeks. “Were you hoping to challenge me to a game of touch football?”
“Maybe some other time. Right now it’s too early for games.”
“It’s never too early for the games I have in mind.”
“I’ll bet.” She cleared her throat. “I have a problem. A leak in the ceiling ruined all my clothes. Is there something I might borrow?”
“As a matter of fact, my clothes were drenched as well.” He glanced down at the dark, pin-striped pants and old-fashioned cardigan sweater he was wearing. They looked completely out of character on the man who’d been so fashionably dressed the night before. “I found these in my grandfather’s closet. Come on. Maybe there’s something of my grandmother’s that will fit you.”
Instead of climbing the stairs, he led Annie to a suite of rooms at the far end of the house. “This is part of the original design from the twenties and thirties. When my parents remodeled, they had a master suite added upstairs and left this wing intact. You won’t believe the clothes that are still here.”
He led the way across a fabulous sitting room with a white granite fireplace and ornate Italian furniture that featured lions’ heads on the backs of chairs and white marble columns that served as bases for tables. The bedroom was equally exotic, with an enormous bed draped with gauzy hangings tied at all four corners and a white satin spread outlined with a gold crest. The walk-in closet featured row after row of men’s and women’s clothing encased in zippered plastic covers. There were beaded gowns with matching bags and shoes. Elegant, slinky dresses with dropped waists and hemlines that would brush the floor. There was one entire row of tennis clothes, both men’s and women’s, all white, and all with matching sweaters.
Annie looked around, trying to take it all in. “What a treasure trove for a collector. Why did your family save all these things through the years?”
Ben shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows? I suppose in the beginning my parents simply couldn’t bring themselves to part with such personal belongings. Later it became easier to simply ignore the presence of all these things than to deal with them.”
He swept a hand toward the clothes. “Feel free to wear whatever suits you.” He grinned at his own choice. “I have to admit I’m enjoying wearing something that my grandfather once wore, but I certainly wouldn’t want to be seen in public in this.”
They shared a laugh. Annie was still chuckling as she began sorting through the ladies’ clothes until she paused in front of a plastic bag filled with wonderful draped trousers and crepe shirts. “Your grandmother wore slacks?”
Ben grinned. “Nana was a free spirit. She admired Katharine Hepburn and said if pants were good enough for a Hollywood star, they were good enough for her.” He pointed to a dressing room just beyond the closet. “Go ahead. Try on whatever you want. I’m going downstairs to see to our breakfast.”
When he was gone, Annie unzipped dozens of bags and examined clothes that would have been fashionable when her grandmother was a young woman.
The cares of the world seemed to slip away as she stood before a floor-to-ceiling looking glass. With each new outfit she tried on, her enjoyment grew. It was as though she had suddenly stepped back in time. There was no job waiting for her. No debts to be paid. No deadlines or pressure. Just the pleasure of slipping into another era. Another lifetime.
Annie walked down the hallway, loving the way the cuffs of the long, draped slacks brushed her ankles with each step. The sleeves of the old-fashioned crepe blouse fluttered as she moved. The open-toed sandals she’d chosen were butter-soft against her feet. She gave her grandmother’s generation credit. They certainly knew about style and comfort.
She had no idea how long she’d been in the dressing room trying on clothes. Without a watch, it was impossible to gauge the passage of time. But she knew this much. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d enjoyed herself so thoroughly, doing nothing more important than playing dress-up. In fact, she’d had the time of her life.
Even before she reached the kitchen, she could smell coffee brewing. But how was that possible with no electricity? She found the answer. The French doors were open. Ben was standing on the brick-paved patio, tending a charcoal grill. A coffeepot perked alongside a tray of scrambled eggs. A plate of toast stood on a warming shelf.
He looked as sophisticated and self-assured as a character straight out of The Great Gatsby.
“Well.” He turned to give her a long, slow appraisal. “Katharine Hepburn had nothing on you. Great choice.”
�
��Thank you.” She twirled, giving him a chance to view the complete outfit. The pants and shoes were taupe, the blouse a creamy white that accentuated her flawless skin and dark, burnished hair. At the admiring look on his face, she felt the beginnings of a blush.
Using a pair of long-handled tongs, he turned sausages on the grill. “Breakfast is ready.”
She watched with approval. “Very inventive.”
“Necessity.” He pointed to the patio table set for two. “There’s juice. Unless you need caffeine.”
“I’ll take both.” She picked up a glass of juice and sipped, then filled two cups with coffee.
“Did you sleep, Ben?”
He shrugged. “I think I dozed on the sofa. But I feel as refreshed as if I’d slept all night. In fact, I woke up thinking I haven’t slept this well in years. How about you?”
“I feel fine.” It was true, she realized. She felt as if she’d slept for eight hours. Maybe it was the fresh air. Or the change of scenery. Whatever it was, she wasn’t about to complain. “Need a hand?”
“It’s all ready. Just sit and enjoy.” He carried a platter of sausage and eggs to the table and returned with a plate of toast and a little crock of jam.
“What are your plans for the day?” He held the platter and waited until she’d filled her plate.
“I think I’d better walk around the estate and see what needs are most pressing. I’ve already decided to hire a landscaping firm to tend the lawns and gardens and prune the trees. I’ll need a cleaning crew to begin work on the exterior. Paint the trim. Wash the windows. Then I’ll have a second crew see to the interior. I’d like to get started showing the house before your mother has her furnishings removed.”
“Good idea.” He buttered some toast and dug into his eggs.
Annie tasted, then looked up. “This is good.”
“Thanks. I used to enjoy cooking once in a while. Haven’t had time to do much of it lately.” He spread jam on a piece of toast. “A shame, too. It really relaxes me.” He looked up. “Do you cook anything besides omelettes?”
