AFTER TARA’S ARRIVAL at the Frangipani Inn, Ben made himself scarce. The Sand Bar was his refuge, except when Liss was around.
“I can’t figure out what’s with that girl,” Joe said to him one evening during a lull. “She’s always been a little spacey, but last week she didn’t show up for work for a couple of days, said she needed time off to get a tattoo. In Liss’s case, that’s gilding the lily.”
Joe went to the kitchen to ask for clean glasses, and Ben studied the newly inked hearts and roses on Liss’s shoulder as best he could from that distance. This earned him an inquiring glance from Liss, and when she headed toward him he quickly swiveled around to face the bar, hoping she wouldn’t stop to talk.
“Ben?”
He made himself turn and smile, though he was gritting his teeth. “Hi, Liss. What’s happening?”
“I saw you admiring my tattoo.”
“Well—”
“You don’t like it?” She appeared worried, her brow furrowing into an unbecoming line.
“Of course not,” he lied. He firmly believed that sometimes, in social situations, it was better to fudge than to hurt someone’s feelings.
“Have you ever had a tattoo?”
“Never had the urge,” he told her.
“If you do, I can tell you the name of the guy who did mine.”
“Sure,” he said. Across the room, a group in one of the booths was casting annoyed glances in their direction, no doubt wanting their server to pay attention to them. “I believe you’ve got some needy customers over there,” he said with a nod in that direction.
“They’ll wait. I want to ask you something, Ben.” Her expression was more serious than he’d ever seen it, and he braced himself for what she might say.
“That night when we went to my place,” she said. “I didn’t do anything to turn you off, did I?”
He figured he might as well be kind. “No, Liss. You’re a beautiful woman,” he said carefully. “I—have other interests, that’s all.”
“You mean the person you brought to eat dinner here? The one with all the earrings?”
But not a navel ring, he thought as he pulled his focus away from hers. “Chloe. Yes.”
“You’re, well, boyfriend and girlfriend?”
This was getting too personal for him, so he bolted down the rest of his tonic and lime and stood up. “You could say that,” he allowed. Considering that he and Chloe hadn’t even slept together yet, claiming a relationship was a little premature.
“That’s too bad,” she said. “I’m sorry to hear it.”
At least this conversation might put an end to Liss’s pursuit of him. “Like I said that night, you can find someone else.”
“Maybe I already have,” Liss said defensively. “Maybe I’m not all that crazy about you anyway.”
“Then I’d be happy for you and whomever,” he said, tossing a couple of bills on the bar for Joe.
“I wish I could say the same about you and—what’s her name? Zoe?”
“Chloe,” he said, starting toward the door.
“You’ll get tired of her real fast,” Liss said, tossing her head.
He didn’t like her tone or her attitude, so he wheeled and walked back to her. “I won’t,” he said, not even trying to keep the anger out of his voice. “And if you ever say anything against Chloe again while you’re here and supposed to be working, I’ll talk to the manager. Got it?”
“Got it,” Liss said faintly.
He nodded curtly. “Okay.”
He sauntered out. Behind him, Liss was bristling with indignation. In a way, he was grateful for the exchange because it allowed feelings to surface that he hadn’t realized he felt toward Chloe. Protectiveness, for one, and a degree of caring that he’d thought was beyond him. He’d been a treasure hunter most of his life. And now, in Chloe, he recognized a treasure of real value. The only trouble was that he had nothing to offer her—no job, no real prospects, not even a place to live.
TARA HAD SETTLED into her room, Sea Oats, with little effort. She told Chloe that she liked the room’s yellow-and-gold color scheme; she’d brought a picture of her mother, father and twin sisters and propped it on the dresser beside her well-worn teddy bear. Chloe, who had to keep reminding herself that Tara was growing up, found it touching that she had brought her childhood toy along. However, as her niece, in a skimpy bikini, headed for the beach with her new friends, Chloe noted that Tara was definitely more woman than child nowadays.
It didn’t take long, after Chloe consulted with Naomi and Ray, to grant dating privileges to Tara and Greg. Chloe liked Greg and found him unerringly polite. Tara began to spend two days a week at the treasure museum, and she and Greg often manned the gift shop together. As for the rest of Tara’s friends, Chloe had grown fond of Jill, who often drove over in her mother’s car to visit in the evening. Jill wanted a job so she could save money to buy her own car, something sportier than her mother’s Lincoln Town Car, and Chloe admired her determination. In her experience, too many kids never learned the satisfaction of working toward a goal and achieving it, and the fact that Jill’s parents were well-to-do but refused to buy her a car was a pleasant surprise. As for Aaron, Jill’s boyfriend, Chloe still hadn’t warmed to him. In every situation, he seemed to be assessing those present and, judging from the smug expression on his face, feeling superior.
She mentioned this observation to Ben one day when he stopped in to ask if she needed to mail anything. She had been pouring herself a beer, and it felt strange not to offer him one.
“How about a glass of water?” she offered.
He hesitated. “You can drink a beer,” he told her. “It won’t bother me. I’ll get my own water.” He found a glass in the cupboard and proceeded to pour water out of the jug she kept in the fridge.
Three weeks had elapsed since their romantic interlude on the porch. Chloe wondered if Ben ever wished that things had gone further than they had, if he had any desire to resume where they’d left off. Leaning against the kitchen counter, she took a long pull from the bottle. Ben stood near the door, one thumb hooked through his belt loop, the other hand curved around the glass, which was damp with condensation from the humid air. Automatically, she handed him a napkin to wrap around it.
“How long have you been sober?” she asked. He’d be within his rights to remind her that it was none of her business, but he didn’t.
His gaze didn’t waver. “It’s been over a year, but sobriety is never easy. I’ve only backslid once, on the anniversary—well, some things are hard to get through.”
Before she could frame an appropriate reply, she heard the crunch of tires on the shell-rock driveway. Jill and Aaron pulled up next to her Volvo. When they met at the back of Aaron’s car to remove beach paraphernalia from the trunk, Aaron gathered an acquiescent Jill, who was wearing only a brief bikini, close for a long and passionate kiss.
Chloe nodded in their direction. “See that? I hope Tara doesn’t follow Jill’s example.”
“She won’t. She confides in me some, you know.”
“I’m glad she talks to you. Naomi would be, too.”
“Tara likes Greg, but she has a sensible head on her shoulders. They’re just friends.”
“Greg seems like a good influence. Aaron has a quality, though, that I don’t care for. I’m not sure what it is.”
“Tara said he’s older than the others. He’s eighteen and joining the navy in the fall.”
She narrowed her eyes as she glanced out the window at Aaron and Jill. “If he’s older, why does he want to hang out with younger kids?”
“Jill’s dynamite.”
“You’re right.” She remembered the passions of her youth and sighed, feeling old all of a sudden. It hadn’t been so many years since she’d wandered around in a too-revealing swimsuit at the Farish Country Club, not realizing how titillating she must have been to the guys.
Ben drained his glass and set it beside the sink. “When I get back, wil
l you have time to go over the bills we need to send to Gwynne?”
“Sure. I’m through working for the day.”
“I’ll check in with you in a while.”
She watched Ben as he walked to his Jeep. What was that someone had said—something about youth being wasted on the young? Not that she and Ben were exactly over the hill, which reminded her that she hadn’t taken her birth control pill this morning. She ran upstairs, unwilling to risk forgetting it, even though she couldn’t figure out how she and Ben would ever manage enough privacy to make love.
Chloe had begun to refer to the sex act in her own mind as lovemaking. So was she falling in love with Ben Derrick? Were his constant presence in her life, and his kindness to her niece, and his helpful attitude wearing her down? Or were her own memories enough to do the trick? Perhaps they should sleep together so she’d have a chance of getting him out of her system. Sometimes, when the guy wasn’t any good in bed, that finished it for her. She could say goodbye without regret.
However, she didn’t think Ben would turn out to be a dud. And even if he were, he might prove to be a fast learner.
Chapter Eight
Ben didn’t return until late in the afternoon, and by that time, Tara had already asked for and received Chloe’s blessing to spend the night with Jill. After a reassuring conversation with Jill’s mother, who said she was eager to meet Tara, Chloe helped her niece pack an overnight bag.
“I can’t wait to see Jill’s house,” Tara said. “Greg says it’s enormous.”
“You’ll be home when?” Chloe asked. Jill and Aaron were waiting outside to drive Tara to Jill’s house, but they’d made no plans for Tara’s return home.
“Jill’s going to drop me off at the museum in the morning for my shift. Afterward, she’s planning to drive to Vero to interview for a job. She thinks she might be able to work at the newspaper.”
“Call me before you leave Jill’s house, okay?”
“Do I have to?” Tara wailed.
“Absolutely. Help me out here, Tara. I’m not accustomed to keeping tabs on a busy teenager, and I wouldn’t feel right if you didn’t check in.”
“Okay,” Tara said, resigned. After kissing Chloe quickly on the cheek, she clattered downstairs and hailed Jill and Aaron from the back porch.
Chloe overheard them talking. “My aunt says I have to call her in the morning. Isn’t that psycho?” Tara said.
“Psycho,” agreed Aaron, but Jill only laughed.
“She’s acting like a parent,” Jill said. “Get used to it, Tara.”
And then they were off, wheeling out of the parking area and sending up plumes of white dust in their wake.
From her vantage point in Tara’s room, which overlooked the back of the house, Chloe saw Ben come around the corner of the house, carrying a sheaf of papers. He’d want to go over those bills now, and she might as well.
“I BOUGHT A WHOLE CHICKEN at the fresh market in Vero,” Ben said after they’d sealed the receipts in an envelope to send to Gwynne. “Also an artichoke salad and a bottle of white wine. For you,” he added hastily.
“Did we have a dinner date?” she asked archly.
“We do now. Besides, I ran into Zephyr at the vegetable stand, and she was all atwitter over having houseguests on the way when she wanted to mark a nest on the beach that the park ranger reported this morning. She gave me the orange flags and netting and requested that I do it for her. I figure that we’ll honor her request, and while we’re at it, we’ll have a sunset picnic. Are you game?”
“Of course. With Tara gone for the evening, I’m ready anytime.” She smiled at him.
“I’ll pack a picnic basket—there’s one on a closet shelf in the annex—and be back in half an hour. We might want to go for a swim to cool off.” The temperature had been in the debilitating nineties all week.
“You’re on,” Chloe said.
When Ben climbed up the slope from the annex, she was ready. “I’ll carry that,” she said, appropriating the small cooler. She peeked inside. Water for him, wine for her, plus two glasses.
“I forgot beach towels. Do you have any handy?” he asked.
Chloe dodged inside and returned with towels and a blanket. With Ben carrying Zephyr’s nest-marking equipment, they set off down the boardwalk, greeting several beachgoers who were walking back to their cars.
To find the turtle crawl and mark the nest didn’t take long. Afterward, Ben spread the blanket nearby, and they sat cross-legged to eat in a leisurely fashion. Chloe was in a rare mood, happy to be communicating with someone on an adult level for a change. This evening the ocean, calm now, was tinged rosy pink by the sun dipping low in the west. The waves rose and fell, whispering on the shore.
With dinner out of the way and its remains packed in the basket, they lay on the blanket to watch the stars come out. Except for the two of them, the beach was deserted. Ben reached for her hand.
“Moonlight swim?” he asked.
“Or a facsimile of,” she added, shooting him a mischievous smile.
Her smile faded as she stared at him, his face illuminated by starlight. As a girl, she had dreamed of a moment when the two of them would be alone together, but this reality was so much better than her old fantasies that she couldn’t speak. Without a word, he stood, pulling her up with him.
Chloe, mindful of a day years ago when she’d met him alone on the beach and had wanted more than anything to run her fingers through the soft dark hair on his chest, did so now. He rewarded her by his sharp intake of breath, by his bending over and touching his cheek briefly to her forehead. Neither of them spoke as he led her to the edge of the sea.
He kissed her as the waves purled around their feet, kissed her again more lingeringly when they lapped waist high. All her senses aroused, Chloe felt lit with a bright passion, more brilliant and hotter than the brightest star above.
But the heat was not derived from the heavens; it was his body that warmed her. His mouth captured hers, fierce with desire. She closed her eyes, losing herself with him, giving and surrendering to his touch.
Slowly, so slowly, he loosened the top of her bikini, his touch gentle, his fingers sure. The fabric fell away, still fastened around her waist, but now Ben’s hands glided over her wet skin, caressing and exploring. He cupped her breasts, stooped to kiss them, and she arched against him until his hands slid lower to hold her derriere. She tugged at his swimsuit and released the hardness within. Before she knew it, he had lifted her and her legs were wrapped around his waist.
Fabric, still too much of it. He feathered his lips to her shoulders and along her throat as she rocked against him in the rhythm of the sea.
“Make love with me now, Chloe,” he said, his voice urgent in her ear. “Let’s not wait any longer.”
Instead of answering, she swam out of his arms and dove deep below the moon path, coming up in a shimmer of silver leading the way toward shore. Her arms dipped and swung, flinging water spangles into the air, and Ben was close behind her. When her feet struck a line of rocks at the edge of the surf, she stumbled and nearly fell. He caught her, skin against skin for a long moment, until she shivered and drew him into a long kiss.
She led him the short distance to the blanket and knelt, gazing up at his dark shape silhouetted against the moonlit ocean.
Quickly, he slipped out of his swim trunks, and even more quickly, he knelt beside her, bringing his face into focus. He tipped one breast with a finger. “Beautiful,” he said, his voice low in his throat. “You’re lovely, Chloe.”
For an answer, she lay back and pulled him on top of her. He supported himself on his elbows as she rippled her fingers over each vertebra in turn and down his smooth flanks. The scent of the sea was mysterious, tantalizing; she opened her mouth to his and tasted salt. She learned all the textures of him: skin, hair, fingernails, teeth, tongue. Gloried in the contrast, savored the magical effect of man and woman together, doing what they were made to do.
He reached
for the picnic basket. “This time I’m prepared,” he said, withdrawing a foil packet.
“Don’t worry. I can’t get pregnant,” she said, but he readied himself anyway. She helped, guiding him to her center, holding him tightly as he hesitated.
“Chloe,” he murmured, “I’ve wanted this since I saw you on that first night.”
“I’ve wanted you since—” But she didn’t finish the sentence. Nothing could be gained by confessing that she’d been wildly in love with him when she was a teenager and he was an Older Man.
“Don’t talk,” he said. “Just enjoy.” He was teasing her, nipping at her neck, not entering her when he could have, and so easily.
“You, too,” she said, rising to meet him so that he slid, silky and slick, into her.
“Ah,” he said, a word like a prayer. Her lips found his, and together they flowed into each other as if they had been doing this forever. He wrapped his arms around her, held her fast. Chloe had never known the act to be so beautiful, so caring and giving, so joyous. She trembled beneath him, couldn’t help it, and felt him, the essence of him, in every cell of her body.
He was spectacular, focused and real, and at the moment of climax, they joined in something more magical than the moonlight, more majestic than the sea. He sank on top of her, spent. His lips tasted the hollow of her throat as he said her name and perhaps something else.
“Chloe, I—”
The rest of his sentence was lost in the rush of the waves on the shore, but she thought Ben had said, Chloe, I think I love you.
“LET’S GO FOR A SWIM this morning,” Tara said two days later when she was getting ready to meet her friends on the beach. “I told the others that you might want to come with us.”
Chloe, who was concentrating on fitting a bit of fourteen-karat gold wire around a small wedge of azure sea glass, replied without looking up. “I’ll need to go shopping to buy a new swimsuit,” she said without thinking.
“Why can’t you wear your old one?” Tara asked.
Chloe felt her face flush, though she kept her back to Tara so her niece wouldn’t notice. Her bikini had washed away with the tide; or at least, she presumed it had. Neither top nor bottom had reappeared after the impassioned lovemaking on the beach, and she’d had to wrap herself in her blouse and a beach towel for the short walk to the house.
The Treasure Man Page 12
