by Webb, Peggy
“Yes, but not what you’re thinking.”
Ben held her in a long, piercing look that backfired and sent his own heart racing.
“And what would that be?” He deliberately made his voice a soft, deadly purr.
“You know.”
“No, I’m afraid I don’t. You’re going to have to be specific.”
For the first time in many years Ben questioned his own motives. Why was he trying so hard to keep Holly Jones at a distance? Was it to protect her or to protect himself?
Funny how she could drive him mad with a simple look, a small gesture. He’d dated women far more beautiful, far more sophisticated, far more successful and worldly-wise. But none of them had made his heart race. None of them brought out the swashbuckling, protective hero who wanted to take a sword and slay dragons.
And none of them gave off that intoxicating scent that reminded him of citrus groves.
Suddenly Ben smiled.
“If you think you can make me leave by laughing at me, think again, Ben Sullivan. I’m not some little wimp who runs at the first sign of trouble. I’m tough, and don’t you forget it.”
With her jaw stuck out and her lower lip caught between her teeth, she looked like a little girl challenging the school bully.
He left the chair and went to stand beside the fireplace. Propping his elbow on the mantel, he studied her. His den looked better with Holly sitting in it, homier, more inviting, right somehow. He was almost sorry that he couldn’t keep her there.
But he knew better than to try. He was too smart to fall into that trap.
“You misunderstood me, Holly. I wasn’t laughing at you; I was laughing at myself.”
“Why?”
“I was sitting there thinking of myself as some kind of hero. Did you know that you have that effect on men?”
“I do?”
“See, that’s what I mean. That wide-eyed innocent look. That little-girl blush on your cheeks. It’s very appealing, Holly.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m not sure I meant it as a compliment.”
“You think this is an act?”
“Isn’t it?”
“I feel sorry for you, Ben. You have all this...”
Her sweeping gesture included his leather wing chairs, the antique clock that his grandfather had brought over from Ireland, the fine art collection he had acquired during his world travels, the shelf full of well loved, well worn leather bound books, the rolling pastures outside the window, shadowed with purple now that the sun had vanished.
“... and yet you’re not happy.”
Her remark stung. And he certainly didn’t want to think of its implications.
“Don’t waste your sympathy, Holly. Happiness is overrated.”
“I guess that’s why you can do what you did.”
She didn’t elaborate: she didn’t have to. The issue of the farm stood between them like a fire-breathing dragon.
“I never let sentiment interfere with business, Holly.”
“And I never let business interfere with sentiment.”
“They say opposites attract.”
“I guess they are wrong, Ben.”
“Yes. They are definitely wrong.”
Once more they were caught up in a long, naked look that said things neither of them dared speak. This time there were no wide eyes and flushed cheeks: Holly regarded him as intently as he regarded her. A log crackled in the fireplace, a shower of sparks shot upward and that mysterious scent swirled around the room, weaving them into its seductive web while the clock ticked off the minutes.
The passion that burst through Ben caught him off guard. At first he could only wonder at its force. Then he had to act. He crossed the space that separated them with long, purposeful strides. His right hand snaked out, caught her chin, and tilted her face upward. Her skin was soft to the touch, and her lips looked ripe and delicious. He leaned down to steal a taste. Just one. And then he would let her go.
She caught a sharp breath, but she didn’t pull away from him. Her top lip made a perky cupid’s bow, and her bottom lip was rich and full. She was angel and devil…and he would have them both.
With his lips were only inches away, Holly whispered, “I lied.”
Still holding her chin, still keeping her lips within kissing distance, he quirked his eyebrow.
“You lied?”
“About opposites not attracting. I’m afraid I’m terribly attracted to you.”
Her words had the ring of truth. And though Ben suspected it was another act, there was enough doubt to give him pause. He had no intention of giving Holly Jones false impressions. To him a kiss was a casual thing, to be given lightly and taken lightly. He had no intention of making it more.
Regret sliced through him as he gazed down at her. He released her chin, then let his fingers trail lightly down her cheek. When he walked away, his heart was racing.
“Why are you afraid?” he asked, leaning once more on the mantel. The distance helped, but not much. Crazy as it seemed, he still wanted to kiss her. No, more than kiss her.
“Because I’m always attracted to the wrong kind of man.”
“And we both know that I’m the wrong kind of man.”
“Definitely.”
“I see. You do this often?”
“Twice. And both of them left me.”
“Husbands? Lovers?”
“Serious boyfriends.”
There was something chaste and very appealing in the way she labeled them boyfriends.
“It was their loss, Holly.”
“You don’t have to say that just to be nice.”
“Being nice is never one of my motivations. Being honest is... sometimes.”
“You know, you can be sweet, Ben.”
“Don’t tell. I don’t want to ruin my reputation.”
“Actually, I was thinking of putting it on the front of a sweatshirt and wearing it at the senior citizens’ breakfast Wednesday.” Her grin was spontaneous and impish.
“You have a sweatshirt for every occasion?”
“Not all of them. Particularly not this one.”
“What is this one, Holly?”
“Eating crow. After giving you rotten fruit and a hard time, I now have to ask a favor of you.”
“So you admit to giving me a hard time?”
“I’m feeling a little bit sorry about stepping on your hand.”
“But not about the mud on my shirt... and the fruit?”
“Well, no. Actually I think you deserved that.”
“Holly Jones, riding around in her white Cadillac serving up justice.”
“It’s not mine, actually. I borrowed the car from Loweva.” He lifted his eyebrow. “She’s my assistant as well as my best friend.”
At that moment Hines came through carrying a silver tray loaded with all sorts of goodies.
“Anyone ready for tea?”
Ben made the introductions then sat back to watch as Holly turned her charm on Hines. One look at his face, and Ben knew that Hines had fallen for her act, hook, line, and sinker.
“This tea is divine, Mr. Hines.”
“Just Hines, please.”
“What is that flavor? Oranges?”
She held the glass up to sniff, and Ben could swear he smelled that mysterious fragrance again, the one that threatened his composure and stole his breath.
“Actually, it is a bit of orange, plus juice right out of a jar of maraschino cherries. I like to experiment.”
Hines and Holly were as natural together as ham and redeye gravy. Ben leaned back in his chair and observed. It was fun to watch them, two true Southerners who had never met a stranger.
Her face bright with animation, Holly suddenly turned the full force of her charm on Ben. He wasn’t prepared for the impact. He actually felt as if somebody had gut-punched him.
“Now that I have reinforcements, I’m going to get to the point of my visit,” she said.
“I can hardly
wait to hear,” he said, all the while casting around in his mind for a way to prolong her stay.
“I want to borrow some of your animals.”
“Ah... you do want an animal?”
Hines shot him a reproving look. Ben was sure to hear more from him over dinner.
Holly laughed. “Ben Sullivan, you are an incorrigible rake. I take back every nice thing I said about you.”
“That’s a relief. Sainthood was beginning to bore me.
“Oh, you’re far from being a saint.”
“Would anyone care for a cookie?” Hines said. “They’re genuine shortbread, from my grandmother’s recipe.” He pressed a cookie into Holly’s hand. “Actually, Ben is a very fine man. He just likes to pretend he’s not.”
“Hines, I don’t think Miss Jones needs a character reference.”
“On the contrary…” She nibbled the edge of her shortbread as she turned to Hines. “I’d like to hear more.”
“Not today, Holly.” Ben plucked her from her chair like a ripe plum. “If you want an animal, we’d better go down to the barn and pick one out before it gets too dark to see.”
“But I haven’t even told you what I want them for.”
“It doesn’t matter, as long as you understand that I’m part of the deal.”
“You’re part of the deal?”
“Yes. Wherever my animals go, I go.”
“But...”
“Take it or leave it.”
Holly looked toward Hines for support, but he had developed a sudden interest in his tea. If Ben hadn’t known him so well, he might not have suspected that he was suppressing a grin.
“I’ll take it,” Holly said. “Anything for the cause.”
Hines was leaning toward them, avidly eavesdropping. Ben steered Holly out the door and out of earshot.
“That sounds intriguing,” he said. “Anything?” She swung a glance at him, then quickly turned away.
“Almost,” she said. And then, “Why are you laughing?”
“I’m wondering just how far you’re willing to take that promise.”
Chapter 8
It was already too dark to see. The only illumination came from a single floodlight suspended too high on a light pole to do more than transform the fence posts to ghostly shadows.
Then why in the world was she headed to the barn to see animals with a man she didn’t even trust? Holly knew the answer to that question, and it wasn’t pretty. She was out of her mind. Period. Ben Sullivan did that to her, and there wasn’t a blessed thing she could do about it.
Except turn around and go to her car. But then he would think she was a coward.
She could thank him politely and say she suddenly remembered that she had someplace to go. But then he would probably ask her where and with whom.
Or perhaps she should—
All thoughts flew out of her mind as Ben caught her hand.
“This path can be treacherous in the dark,” he said.
It could be treacherous in the broad daylight with him, but she didn’t tell him so.
What was it about Ben that turned his merest touch into high-voltage shocks?
The question was silly, of course. It didn’t take a Harvard graduate to figure out Ben’s assets; they were plentiful and obvious.
The smell of hay didn’t help. It was stacked around the barn in fragrant mounds, just right for sinking into and cuddling up with the right man. The bad thing was that Ben Sullivan was the wrong man. Holly had to keep reminding herself of that.
“See anything you like?” he asked.
“Oh, yes. Most definitely.” She couldn’t keep her eyes off him. He probably thought she was one of those love-starved women who comforts herself with doughnuts while watching late night x-rated movies.
“I was talking about the animals.” His grin was the most wicked thing this side of Hades.
“So was I.”
His roar of laughter startled a pigeon who had taken refuge in the loft. It flapped out into the night, sending a small drift of hay over them.
“You have hay in your hair,” Ben said.
She had always loved a man’s hands in her hair, and when Ben plucked out the piece of hay, she hardly dared breathe. Suddenly he cupped her face, then slowly, ever so slowly, let his fingers slide backward into her hair. The tingling that started in her scalp spread all the way down to her toes.
“Your hair is beautiful.”
She didn’t understand him at all. When she was nice, he was naughty. When she was naughty, he was nice. To add to her confusion, his face was naked and vulnerable. She’d never seen him that way. Did she dare trust that she was finally seeing the real Ben Sullivan?
His fingers glided through her hair once more. “So soft and silky... it feels alive.”
Trembling inside and hoping it didn’t show, Holly considered her dilemma. She had never been so tempted by a man, and she was very close to making herself look like a fool, a lonely unattractive woman who will fall for just any old line, a French-fries and double-cheese-burger kind of girl who lets herself forget that the Ben Sullivans of the world might toy with her, but they marry eye candy.
“I don’t know why you brought me out here or why I even agreed to come, but I can tell you one thing, Ben Sullivan, I don’t play games, and I’m not planning to fall for any of your tricks—not anymore.”
“That’s two things.”
Even when he was at his most maddening, she still wanted him. The smart thing to do would be to step out of his grasp, but oh, it felt so good to have a man touch her and look at her a certain way. It made her feel pretty and desirable, things she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.
In one of his sudden mood swings, he released her and leaned against a support post.
“I can’t assure you that my motives were entirely pure, Holly, but I can assure you that nothing will happen that you don’t want to happen.”
“That’s the problem, Ben. In spite of what you’ve done and what you are, I’m terribly attracted to you, but I have no intention of being used.”
She paused, thinking that he would turn her arguments aside with a remark that was either barbed or witty, but he merely studied her. The look stung her more than accusations. With Ben she had become what she hated most—judgmental and unfair. True, she knew what he had done, but the Snipes family had lost the farm through no fault of his. All he had done was buy it. And she knew absolutely nothing about the man himself except his profession.
“Aren’t you going to say something?” she said.
“No. You’re having a conversation with yourself, and I’m listening. Carry on.”
Holly sank onto an upended bale of hay, then propped her elbows on her knees and her chin in her cupped hands.
“I’ve tried to learn from my mistakes, and one thing I know is that men like you aren’t really interested in women like me.”
Except for that questioning eyebrow that shot upward, he was totally impassive. Holly might as well have been baring her soul to a bale of hay. She knew she should stop, but the floodgates were open and the damage was already done. Besides, she never did anything in a small way. With her it had always been all or nothing at all.
“I know I’m no cover girl.”
She swung her gaze to him for confirmation... or denial. Still he was silent, watching her the way a hawk might observe the animal he’d chosen for dinner. The silence inside the barn was deep and unsettling. Sexual tension was so high, she could feel it, taste it, smell it.
A shaft of moonlight beamed through the rafters and slanted across his face. It wasn’t fair that a man with a body to die for also had a face that belonged on a movie screen. She had never felt the contrast between them more acutely.
“I was a fool to come here.” She bolted out of her seat. “To think... I even dressed for you.”
“You dressed for me?”
“You needn’t look so pleased. I’ll never do it again.”
She stalked out of
the barn and was halfway up the path before he called to her.
“Holly...” Slowly she turned around. “You forgot to tell me where to take the animals.”
“I’d like to tell you exactly where to take them, but it wouldn’t be nice.”
“Are you nice, Holly?”
“Yes. Always... except when I’m around scoundrels like you.”
In the wink of an eye the nice guy vanished and he became the scoundrel she’d named him.
“Nice can be boring. I’ll just have to spend more time with you. Consider it a community service.”
“Is that a promise or a threat?”
“What do you think it is, Holly?”
“You don’t frighten me, Ben.”
“I know; you’re tough.” He closed the distance between them and swept her into his arms. “Just how tough are you, Holly Jones?”
Not tough enough to resist his arms, not when they felt like paradise and that was the place she longed to be.
His breath fanned her cheek, and his lips were so close, she could almost taste them. Still, she had her pride.
“Tough enough not to let myself be used.” She wriggled free then wrapped her arms around herself at the sudden chill. “Where you come from kisses may be a dime a dozen, but where I come from we take kisses seriously.”
Ben spoiled her dramatic exit by falling into step beside her and taking firm hold of her elbow.
“I don’t need any help from you,” she said.
“On the contrary, I think you need exactly what I can give you.”
“I’m not even going to dignify that remark with an answer.”
His chuckle was rich and sexy and made her think of all the wicked things she’d like to do with him under the covers on a cold winter’s night.
“Lord, deliver me from men like you.”
He opened her car door then leaned inside before she could slam it in his face. In the glow of the dashboard light he was incredibly delicious, and too much temptation for any woman, especially one who was starving.
“Would you please remove yourself from my car so I can leave?”
He leaned in closer.
“Don’t look so alarmed,” he said as she backed against the seat. “All I want from you is your undivided attention.”
There was devilish mirth in his face, but his eyes were filled with something far more dangerous—a passion so hot and bright, it heated up the inside of her car.
