by Mary Campisi
Darn it, the tears started and she couldn’t stop them. He pulled her against his chest, held her. “Just give me a minute,” she sniffed.
“Let it out. It’s okay.”
More tears, shoulder-shaking ones pouring from years of loneliness and hurt. Ben stroked her back, rested his chin on the top of her head, and murmured soft words she couldn’t make out, but it didn’t matter because the tone in them soothed her, made her feel not so alone. When the crying settled, she lifted her head and swiped her eyes. “I got your shirt all wet,” she said, staring at the splotch of damp fabric near his heart.
He placed his thumb and forefinger under her chin. “I’d say it was worth it.” There was humor in his voice, and tenderness.
She tried to smile but it wobbled and fell flat. “Thank you.”
When he kissed her, she forgot to breathe. When he touched her neck and trailed his fingers along her collarbone, she clutched his shoulders so she wouldn’t lose her balance. And when he molded her body to his, she wrapped her arms around his waist and deepened the kiss.
He was the one to pull away, his breathing hard, his gaze intense. “Let’s talk.” He grabbed her hand, led her to the couch, and sat down. She sat beside him, not touching, though part of her wanted to feel that closeness she had a few seconds ago. He rested his arm along the back of the couch and waited for her to speak.
“My parents wanted me to be more like my cousin Natalie, but I couldn’t.” She shrugged, picked at a thread on her shirt. “It wasn’t in me to primp and play coy. And I sure didn’t look like Natalie.”
“I like the way you look.”
She slid a glance at him. He seemed as if he meant it. Her heart skittered against her ribs, made her lightheaded. Gina swallowed twice, sucked in a breath, and mumbled, “Thank you. My parents didn’t like my looks or much about me. They said I ate too much, read too much, and didn’t know how to walk across a room without tripping. Food became a good place to hide, that and books. My mother didn’t talk to me for three days when I told her I wasn’t going to have some man support me because I planned to support myself. She did not like that.”
He rubbed his jaw and smiled. “Oh, I’m sure she definitely did not like that.”
Gina’s lips twitched. “I told them I was going to have options in life, lots of them, so I wouldn’t be forced into marriage, but I might as well have spoken in Hungarian. They didn’t even try to understand.” Her lips flattened, her voice dipped. “And when I said I was going to college, they called me uppity and asked if I thought I was too good for them.” She swiped her cheeks and cleared her throat. “I just wanted to get away and have a different life. Was that so wrong?”
“Absolutely not.” He grabbed her hand, laced his fingers with hers. “They had no right to crush your dreams.”
“I know they believed what they were doing was right, but it hurt.” She’d never admitted that to anyone else; she’d barely admitted it to herself, and yet she’d just told Ben.
“I never knew my father,” he said. “And my mother took off when I was five. My grandmother raised me, and I loved her, but I envied kids who had a mother and father. To me, that meant family, and if I didn’t have one, I must not be good enough.”
She’d known years of believing she wasn’t good enough. “Blood doesn’t always make a family.”
Those eyes dug into her soul. “I’m learning that.” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m also learning that first impressions aren’t always the right ones.”
Maybe they’d both been wrong about each other. Gina tilted her head and said in a soft voice, “I’m learning that, too.”
He eased her toward him until their lips touched, gently at first and then with more force. It was difficult to think when he kissed her. Actually, it was impossible to think, and Gina gave up as the last shreds of logic suffocated with his kiss.
“Gina,” he breathed as he lifted her onto his lap, coaxed her mouth open, tasting, sharing.
Oh, but he was delicious and tempting, and it had been so very long. “Ben.” The need in her voice surprised her. She wanted him. All of him. His fingers made tiny circles along her collarbone, traced the opening of her shirt. She strained toward him, waiting for him to unbutton her shirt, dip his hand inside her bra…touch her nipples…
“I want you,” he said. “But what happens next is up to you.” His gaze turned darker, burrowed deeper into her soul. “If you want me to leave, I—”
Gina threw her arms around his neck, straddled him, and kissed him long and slow, letting him know exactly what she wanted. She rubbed her breasts along his chest, made him moan and grab her butt. He pulled her closer and she didn’t think about tomorrow or next week, or next month. Not rules, or must-dos and should-nots. Right now, all she did was feel, for the first time in years, maybe ever. And the feeling brought passion and need and a boldness that stripped them of their clothes and Ben Reed of his control. She was the aggressor, she was the one who rode him, head flung back, eyes closed, moans escaping her lips. And she was the one who climaxed first, convulsing with pulses of white-light intensity, carrying Ben to his own, equally forceful, equally pleasurable climax.
They slept, snuggled on the beige carpet with Gina on top of Ben. Naked. Her head on his chest, his arm slung across her back. She woke hours later, curled at his side, his arm still around her. Gray light poked through the slats of the living room blinds, signs that morning would be here soon. What time was it? Oh, no. Ben’s car was in the driveway, had been there all night. People would see.
Panic slithered through her, settled in her gut, making her queasy. People would think he’d spent the night. Maybe there was still time to get him out of here before anyone noticed. If he hurried…Gina unwound his arm and eased away. For just a second, she missed the warmth of his body, the smell of him. She grabbed her shirt, stuffed her arms in the sleeves, and pulled on her panties.
“Going somewhere?”
She jerked and glanced up. Ben was awake, his blue eyes fixed on her.
“It’s late.” She paused, stumbled on. “Or early. What time is it, anyway?”
He glanced at his watch and said, “Five.”
“Oh.” She stepped into her jeans, zipped them. Her gaze skittered to her bra, which lay near his left hand. “I think you should leave.”
“Huh.” Those eyes narrowed. “This is a first for me.”
“What?”
“I’ve never had a woman ask me to leave her bed before.” He crossed his arms behind his head as though he were in no hurry to go anywhere.
“Technically, we weren’t in bed.” She ran a hand through her hair, trying to smooth the tangled mess.
“No, technically, we were right here, on the floor.” Sleep had turned his voice into a velvet rumble that teased her belly. “But we could try the bed if you like.”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t want people to see your car here.”
“Ah.” And then, “Why?”
“Why?” How could he ask her that? The answer was beyond obvious. “Because then they’ll know you stayed here last night.”
“Uh-huh. And?”
She ignored the tenseness in his voice, the tightness in his jaw. What did he want her to say? That they should stroll outside, hand in hand, and collect the morning paper? “And I don’t want them to know.”
“Right. Of course not.”
He snatched his shirt, pulled it over his head, grabbed his boxers and jeans. Gina looked away while he dressed, the silence sucking the oxygen from the room, making her wish she’d been more careful with her words. She’d hurt him and that surprised her because she’d thought he’d welcome an easy way out. What if she ignored the time and the gossip his car would create and asked him to stay? Was it too late? Would he do it? Come back to bed with her, a real bed this time, and make her feel like he had last night? Like she was the most beautiful woman in the world? The only woman in his world?
“If anybody asks, you
can tell them someone was lurking around the house and I wanted to make sure you were okay. Say I slept on the couch.” He grabbed the keys from his pocket and shrugged. “Hell, say whatever you want.”
“Ben?”
He looked at her, waited. She tried to push the words out, but they wouldn’t come.
“Good-bye, Gina.”
Then he was out the door, his car rumbling down the driveway. Not until the sound faded did Gina put sound to words. “Stay. Please, stay.”
By the time Lily arrived at 10:00 a.m., Gina had showered, cleaned up the living room, and removed all signs of the night before. Not exactly true. Ben Reed had stamped her heart and touched her soul, and no amount of disinfectant would remove that.
“Hey, Gina, are you ready to make presents?” Lily carried a box of ribbons and a plastic container. “Ribbons for the decorations and a fruit salad from Mom.”
“Thank you. How very kind of your mother.” For too many years, she’d judged Miriam Desantro and Charlie Blacksworth, not considering circumstances that might have made what society judged as wrong seem almost right. Her attitude had changed when she met Christine, saw how much she loved Lily and the town. And when she learned of Christine’s mother’s attempts to break up her marriage, well, that was unforgivable.
“What do I smell?” Lily stood in doorway, sniffed her way into the living room.
“I don’t know. What does it smell like?”
The child sniff-sniffed her way to the kitchen. “A man.” She turned and stared at Gina, her dark brows pinched together. “Was Uncle Harry here?”
“No.”
“Cash?”
“Uh-uh.”
“Well, I smell a man’s cologne.” She scratched her chin. “Nate smells like woods and fresh air, so it’s not him. And if it’s not Uncle Harry or Cash, who is it?”
Gina inhaled, detected the faint scent of Ben’s cologne. She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Lily’s smile stretched across her face. “It’s Ben Reed, isn’t it?” she asked, her voice a singsong whisper.
“Why do you say that?” Why would she say that? Had someone spotted his car last night and already started the gossip?
“’Cause he’s cute and you danced with him at the wedding.” She tilted her head, her eyes bright beneath the thick glasses. “And when I say his name your face gets all pink, and, because if you married him, your name would be Gina Reed. Isn’t that a cool name?”
***
Ben wouldn’t say Mimi was actually waiting for him when he got home from Gina’s a little before 6:00 a.m., but she sure pounced on him the second he stepped out of the car. He spotted her on the front porch, sipping coffee and reading the paper. When he pulled in, she pushed her reading glasses on top of her head and stared. Then she smiled. Neither of which was a good sign for a person hoping to avoid conversation and discussion. He trudged up the front steps and waved. “Morning, Mimi.”
“Good morning, Ben.” The smile faded, replaced with a knowing look as she took in his tousled hair and wrinkled clothing. “You look like you could use a strong cup of coffee. Have a seat while I get it for you.”
If he’d thought there was a way out of answering Mimi’s questions, he’d have declined the coffee and headed to bed. But what he’d learned about Mimi Pendergrass was that she was a straight shooter who didn’t like to hide behind politeness if it hid the truth. So, he sank into a chair and said, “Sure. Thanks.”
She disappeared into the Heart Sent, leaving him with the crisp morning air on his skin and thoughts of Gina in his brain. How had last night’s intense lovemaking translated into this morning’s “get out of my house and get out now”? Gina had burned him with her passion in ways he’d never known before. When they touched last night, she’d exploded in a frenzy of need, pulling sensation and desire from him with her kisses, her hands, her… Damn. Where had she been hiding all that passion? He hadn’t been the only one to feel something special last night; she felt it, too, even if she refused to admit it. And then, to push him out the door like she didn’t want to remember what they’d done and damn sure didn’t want anyone else to know.
“Here you go.” Mimi handed him the steaming cup of coffee and sank into the rocker beside him. “Late night, huh?”
He sipped his coffee, considered his answer, and settled on, “Yup.”
“Hmm.”
That word packed some serious punch. “Yup.”
“I don’t suppose you care to talk about it?”
“Nope.” What man wanted to admit the woman he’d made love to had turned down his offer for a repeat and tossed him out when he was still half-asleep? Not only that, she’d been hell bent on keeping their “tryst” a secret? It wasn’t that he wanted to advertise it in the Magdalena Press, but a little more finesse on Gina’s part would have gone a long way. And then there was the possibility of regret. Is that what this morning had really been about? Get him out of the house so she could start purging herself of the memories, starting with a hot shower?
Mimi laid a firm hand on his arm. “You’re saying more by not saying anything. And heavens, that look on your face is pure pitiful, which tells me you’ve got it bad. I don’t imagine you’ve felt this way more than a time or two, and it’s got you perplexed as all get-out.” She grinned and patted his hand. “How am I doing so far?”
Oh, what the hell. His lips twitched. “I’d say you’re dead-on.”
“Gina’s a good girl, but she’s not one to trust easily. She’ll be scared. You’ll have to go slow.” She paused and added, “That is, if you want this to go anywhere, which from the sad-sack look on your face, I’d say you do. But if I’m wrong and you’re just looking for a way to pass time, please leave her alone.” When he didn’t answer, she pressed, “Well? Does that girl mean more to you than a few hours of fun?”
He hadn’t thought about it before last night, but he hadn’t planned on sleeping with her either. When she’d cried in his arms and told him about her parents, he’d seen a part of her he hadn’t seen before. Open. Honest. Vulnerable. He’d wanted to protect her, and when he’d kissed her, it hadn’t been with thoughts of going any further than that kiss. But then she’d exploded and sizzled with a passion that made him burn for her, made him forget their differences, forget everything but the need to be with her, inside of her. It had never been that intense before—not even with Melissa.
“I want an answer, young man.”
Young man? So Mimi was pulling her no-nonsense voice on him. Now she really reminded him of his grandmother. Ben turned to her and hid a smile. “Is that your mayor’s voice, or is it your Bleeding Hearts Society voice?”
She cocked a brow. “Whichever works.”
“She isn’t just a few hours of fun.” He rubbed his stubbled jaw, shrugged. “But she might think I am.”
Mimi’s laugh spilled from her pink lips to the porch and down the front steps. “Oh, but that is so precious.” The laugh deepened, spread down the sidewalk, to the neighbors’ front door. “Imagine that?”
“Yeah, I am, but I’m not laughing.”
She tsk-tsked and patted his knee. “Don’t worry, that’s just fear getting in the way of common sense.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Why, Ben Reed, no woman with a heartbeat would turn you away from her bed. Fear’s got hold of her, but once she knows she can trust you, well, that’s when the magic starts.”
Mimi left Ben to ponder things like fear and magic while she whipped him up a batch of banana-walnut pancakes. He’d offered to help, but she’d smiled at him and told him to rest and contemplate. Yeah, he’d contemplate all right, contemplate the mess he was in with Gina. He shouldn’t have had sex with her until she trusted him; then she would have invited him to her bed and been so pleased with the results, she’d have asked him for several repeat performances, and not once would she have thought about his damn car parked in her driveway. He was too busy waffling between the importance of trust and remembe
ring Gina’s soft skin that he didn’t see Nate Desantro pull into the Heart Sent until the man was halfway up the porch steps.
“Do you have a second?”
No hello from Mr. Personality? Ben stood and said, “Sure. What’s up?”
“What’s going on between you and Gina?”
He’d never pegged Desantro for idle chit-chat but he’d at least thought the guy would warm up before he took a shot. “Gina?” What did he know?
Desantro tried to bury him with those dark eyes. “Yeah. Gina.”
Ben squared his shoulders and sliced him with a look of his own. “Unless she’s your sister, I don’t think it’s any of your concern.”
He didn’t like that. Those eyes narrowed, the jaw clenched, the lips flattened. Nate Desantro was big and broad and at the moment, pissed off, which made him even more intimidating, but Ben had never backed down from a standoff, even when he should have, like now.
“Leave her alone. She’s a nice girl and she doesn’t need someone like you sniffing around.”
“Spoken from Mr. Pure himself?” Now the guy was pissing him off. Who was he to warn him off Gina when he’d been sleeping with Natalie Servetti before his wife hit town?
Desantro stepped forward until they were almost chest to chest. “You hurt her, you answer to me. You may have this town fooled with your smiles and your manners, but I’ve got my eye on you. I can spot a fake ten miles away and you’re a fake.”
***
After three days of being in charge of the Blacksworth household, Harry knew two things: he did not want to be in charge, and God knew what He was doing when He gave a woman the ability to carry a baby in her belly. Men wouldn’t be able to do it. No friggin’ way. And actually having the kid? Pushing it out or having it cut out? He had to stop the visuals or he’d be heaving. Women had the gene to handle it and the smarts to know men were better off with less detail on a whole lot of things. Take the cookout they were having today to celebrate Greta’s homecoming. When he’d insisted on organizing the event, he thought he’d only have to point and pay. That’s what he’d always done in the past, whether it was a vacation, a wardrobe, or a redesign of his condo. Easy. Uncomplicated. Fast. He didn’t realize he had to be the middleman in the operation, too. Someone else had always taken care of that for him, though he had no idea who that person was. When the check was big enough, you didn’t worry about those kinds of details. After he and Greta got married, she’d managed the middleman job with efficiency, fairness, and enthusiasm. The same could not be said for Harry’s attempts.
