BRINGING BENJY HOME

by Kylie Brant

  He was behind her before she'd gotten more than a few steps, drawing her back against his chest. "Boy, if that isn't typical." His voice was mock aggrieved. "Mention food once and you're out of here."

  "You shouldn't have reminded me of how hungry I am."

  "Honey, I'm hungry, too."

  The words were growled in her ear, and suddenly Jaida found herself swept into his arms.

  "Very hungry," he continued. "But I had something a bit more … private than the restaurant in mind."

  She pretended to give that some thought. "You mean like room service?"

  "Exactly," he affirmed. "This is my room, and I am a full-service kind of guy."

  He strode rapidly across the room and dropped her on the bed. The next instant he was propped over her, his eyes still crinkled in amusement. Jaida reached out and traced the shallow laugh lines fanning out from his eyes. His playful demeanor was something she knew he rarely indulged in. Somehow she thought that of all the memories she would carry of him, this one would always be the sweetest, and the most painful.

  Jaida's wistful expression had the smile fading from Trey's lips. Her moods were like quicksilver, always showing on her expressive face. He didn't know what she was thinking, but knew beyond doubt that her thoughts were bittersweet. He couldn't help feeling responsible for that. His lips touched hers with a gentleness he would have denied, a yearning he couldn't put a name to.

  Her mouth twisted sweetly under his for only a moment, before her lips opened to invite a deeper, more intimate kiss. Gentleness was left behind as the familiar need roiled inside him and his tongue pressed into her mouth to tangle with hers. He pulled her shirt from the waistband of her shorts and his hands swept inside to knead the smooth skin at her waist. The silkiness there was intriguing, and his fingers stroked reflexively.

  His tongue flicked at the sensitive roof of her mouth, and she shuddered against him. He could feel desire take a deep, hot hold in the pit of his belly. Her responses fueled his own. He wanted her responses, all of them. He wanted to feel her skin damp and her pulse pounding. He wanted to feel her writhing against him, her hands clenching on his skin. He needed to hear those little cries she made when the passion became too strong to control. He wanted to feel the tension that tightened her limbs before she melted like honey beneath him, around him. He wanted it all—needed it again, needed her again. He wondered if it would be enough this time. He wondered if it would ever be enough.

  Her teeth nipped at his lower lip and his mouth crushed against hers, in a deep open-mouthed kiss that held just a hint of desperation. He pushed her top up and cupped her breasts in their lacy confines. His fingers danced against her nipples, coaxing them into taut, sensitive points. Pulling his lips from hers, he moved down and took a nipple in his mouth, dampening her bra. He grazed it with his teeth, and one of those delectable little cries came from her.

  He stopped suddenly, pulling away and lifting her with him to strip her of the shirt and bra. Then he pressed her back on the bed. He moved between her legs and rubbed his torso against her soft breasts, savoring the sensations as they flattened against him, the nipples pricking him. She was so exquisitely feminine that she had his hormones screaming at her touch.

  Her hands smoothed over his back, their movements a little frantic. The hint of desperation from her fired his own, made him burn a little wilder. He bent to suck strongly from her breast, drawing it deeply into his mouth, tongue batting at the nipple. He was dimly aware of her ragged breathing, of her nails digging into his shoulders.

  The snap of her shorts opening and the zipper being drawn down seemed unnaturally loud. He paused in his task to taste the soft skin on her belly, his tongue delving into her navel. He pulled her shorts and panties over her hips, dragging them down her long, silky legs. She cooperated by kicking them off, and Trey took the opportunity to slide further down her body.

  He pressed his mouth against the heat of her, at the juncture of her thighs, and a strangled cry escaped her. She was warm and damp against his mouth, and he cupped her bottom when she would have tried to tighten her legs against him, against the unfamiliar caress.

  Shock held her rigid for an instant as he nibbled at her most sensitive flesh, teasing the taut bundle of nerves there. Carefully he entered her with his finger, her tight, moist channel clenching immediately around it.

  "Trey," she moaned. He controlled her movements, tilting her hips up toward his mouth. Her hands slid down and tangled in his hair. But she wasn't pushing him away. Her fingers clenched and pulled him nearer.

  He couldn't get close enough. He wanted to absorb her, absorb himself in her scent and feel and touch. He wanted to have it all, and he wanted it to be enough this time. Enough so he'd never want again, never need again. He pleasured her with exquisite care, his own pleasure climbing at her tortured gasps, the sound of his name on her lips, her body writhing against his mouth.

  He heard her repeat his name, a mindless litany as the pressure built in her and abruptly crested. She convulsed against him and he drank her reaction. Her response triggered something in him, something usually kept tamped down and tightly controlled. He slid up her body and entered her with a long, smooth stroke, swallowing her gasp.

  He wouldn't let her relax, wouldn't allow her body to melt against his in satisfaction. He wanted more. He wanted her to climb the precipice again. He wanted her with him, all the way; wanted her cries in his mouth; needed to be inside her when the shock waves of pleasure exploded again. He wanted it to last forever, for nothing else to matter but he and the woman who held him deep inside her.

  But what he wanted didn't matter. Already he could feel the prickling at the base of his back, could feel his manhood grow tight and heavy. Blackness was swirling before his eyes and his movements became faster, harder. Their bodies were slippery with perspiration, and they slid against each other, a perfect counterclockwise movement. His hands went to her thighs, drawing them around his hips. She kept them there, tightening them reflexively and drawing him deeper, ever deeper.

  She bucked beneath him once more, and then her gentle scream sounded against his mouth. He had one long, heat-filled instant to savor her response, before his body slammed against hers once more and he joined her in the bone-shattering climax.

  * * *

  The hours passed like liquid, the minutes flowing together indeterminately. They dozed a little, woke, made love again and then lay there for a time contentedly. Finally her fabled appetite drove them to dress and go out for dinner. When they returned, it was after midnight. He slipped out of his shirt and shoes, before indulging himself by urging her to the floor, to sit between his outstretched legs. Then he spent long minutes pulling her hairbrush through her pale-blond hair, brushing it until it shimmered in the darkness. She leaned her head back, and it flowed over his bare chest, just like it did in his dreams, like it always would in his dreams. He rose and undressed her slowly, leisurely, and made love to her the same way, with absorbed concentration. They slept entwined, and if his constant touch through the night brought her unbidden glimpses into his past, she didn't say.

  And he found that the prospect of that didn't bother him nearly as much as it should have.

  * * *

  Midmorning the next day, Trey was seriously contemplating the appealing idea of joining Jaida in the shower. The phone's ring put an end to his plan and an edge to his voice.

  "Trey Garrison," he growled into the receiver.

  "Mr. Garrison, this is Detective Reynolds, LAPD."

  "Yeah."

  "We've got Maria Kasem here, and Mr. Garrison, I think she's ready to tell us what she knows."

  The words had him jackknifing in bed. "What have you got?"

  "You were right—she didn't act alone. And she's given us the other guy's name. Tony Franken. You know him?"

  "No," he answered, "I've never heard of him." He hadn't really thought that he would, and he found his patience rapidly eroding.

  "Well, I'll be
running a check on him. Kasem seems to think he did some prison time, so I should be able to get my hands on his sheet. I'll get a picture, too, and we can run it by your sister. But I haven't been able to contact her at home. You know where she might be?"

  "I know exactly where she is," Trey told him, his mind racing. "But I don't want you calling her with this. At least, not yet." He wanted to be at Lauren's side when she got this information, and by the time the detective finished gathering the information on Franken, Trey would be.

  "I'm going to make arrangements to fly to meet Lauren today," Trey said. "I'll call you when I get there, and you can tell me what else you find out. Be prepared to fax a picture, if you get one."

  "Of course," the detective responded, annoyance coloring his voice. "But why don't you just tell me where you'll be? Then I could—"

  "I'll call you, Detective," Trey interrupted. "Sometime this afternoon. Have the information ready by then." He hung up the phone, having already dismissed the man from his mind. He was probably being overprotective, but he needed to be with Lauren when she saw the man's picture. Confronting the person who had snatched Benjy away and stolen a month of his young life was bound to be an emotional moment.

  It would be much more if she did recognize the picture.

  It was a moment before he was aware of Jaida's presence in the room. He looked up to see her framed in the bathroom doorway, swathed in a towel. He frowned now in immediate concern. She was very pale, and the hands clutching the towel were shaking. But it was her stillness that alarmed him the most. Other than the trembling in her hands, she was completely, utterly, motionless.

  "Are you okay? You're not sick, are you?"

  "You have the name of the other kidnapper."

  The way she said it wasn't a question, and he knew she'd heard much of the conversation. Her voice soothed his earlier concern for her. It was steady, and not weak at all.

  "Maria Kasem finally coughed up the identity of the man. I guess when threatened with life in prison, she got lonely at the idea of going solo. She gave us his name, and Reynolds is running a check on him right now." He hesitated for a second, then looked squarely into her eyes. "I have to go."

  The softly spoken words hung in the air. Their gazes met, clung. Her face, usually so transparent, was blank, as still as the rest of her. She seemed to become aware of her unsteady hands and clasped them instead, at her back.

  "Of course you do." Again her voice was level, inflectionless. "You'll want to be with Lauren when she tries to identify the man. Do you think you'll have difficulty getting a flight so soon?"

  He hesitated before answering, his mind puzzling over her matter-of-fact attitude. "No, I don't think so. I'll want to take some precautions, of course. I don't want anyone to be able to follow us."

  She offered him a cool smile. "Of course not. And I'm going to really shock you and let you make my ticket back home on a plane."

  He missed the rest of her sentence, focusing on the words that seemed to ring with an ominous sound. "Back home?"

  She nodded. "I'm anxious enough to get back to Arkansas that I'll even fly. I'm going to pray to all the airport gods to spare me from getting sick this time, but at least I can be home in a few hours."

  "You're in a hurry to get home, then," he said slowly, his eyes fixed on her.

  "I'll want to check on Granny, of course, although she'd hate the thought of that. She's visiting her sister and her husband in the next county. I may decide to go over there for a few days to say hello."

  He was silent for a moment. "You'll want to know how this all turns out, won't you?"

  Her eyebrows arched. "Of course. Call me. I can't wait to hear that Lauren and Benjy are completely safe once and for all. Now, I'm sure you'll want to leave as soon as possible. I'll go pack."

  He watched with narrowed eyes as she walked through the adjoining door to her room. The door closed behind her with a gentle, irrevocable click.

  Minutes ticked by, and still Trey sat on the edge of the bed, staring. He wondered why that closed door seemed to represent so much more.

  And he wondered why his gut felt like someone had just tried to do surgery without benefit of anesthesia.

  * * *

  Chapter 15

  « ^ »

  Jaida busied herself with meaningless chores around the cabin. After unpacking and doing her laundry, she swept the spotless floor, then polished the already gleaming furniture. Those tasks done, she mixed a pitcher of lemonade that she wouldn't drink and made a large dinner for one that she wouldn't eat.

  The cabin was almost eerily silent without Granny. Jaida had rarely been here alone. She had called Granny first thing when she'd arrived home, and it had been soothing to hear her voice. Her pointed questions, however, hadn't been soothing at all, and Jaida had brushed them aside feebly. She wasn't up to Granny's insightful comments right now.

  The plane ride home had been interminable. She'd watched, with an odd sort of calm, as Trey had taken over at the airport. After checking the flight schedules, he'd gone from window to window, making arrangements. He used cash to buy tickets to places they wouldn't be traveling, using, she suspected, fake names.

  He'd returned, his face once more a determined, emotionless mask, and given her her instructions. "Your flight leaves right before mine, but I have to go across the airport to reach my gate." He handed her three different sets of tickets. "The flight to Little Rock is on top. I want you to wait until the very last boarding call before you make a move for that plane." She'd taken the tickets and nodded her understanding.

  "Here."

  She'd frozen at the sight of the money he was holding out to her. "I don't want it." Her voice had been strained, harsh. That instant had come very close to shredding her carefully comprised composure.

  "Take it," he'd ordered. "Your purse is gone, and so are your money and credit cards. You're going to need a way to get from Little Rock home, and I sure don't want you to have to make arrangements for a bus. Not in the state you'll be in after the plane ride."

  She'd known he was right, but had made no move toward the money.

  "It's for expenses, Jaida." His words reminded her of what she'd once told him when they'd discussed a fee she didn't want, wouldn't take. Slowly she'd reached for the money, and had taken extraordinary care to avoid touching him.

  It hadn't mattered, though. She took a deep breath, remembering the way he'd drawn closer, as if he couldn't help himself. He'd raised a hand and caught some of her long hair between his fingers. His face had drawn nearer, and he'd whispered her name.

  For one heart-stopping moment she'd thought he was going to kiss her, and after a first foolish leap of her heart, she'd panicked. She'd been very much afraid that if he kissed her, if he so much as touched her, the steady, calm facade she'd strived for would shatter, and she'd be left a trembling, pleading mess.

  The image of her begging, clutching him with needy hands, crying pitifully while he watched, his face a mask of distaste, had had her spine stiffening. She'd pulled away from him with a jerk.

  He had regarded her with enigmatic eyes and she'd wondered if he had expected the scene she'd just imagined. She'd allowed herself one last, thirsty look at him before she'd whispered goodbye. And then, with all the dignity she could muster, she'd turned and walked away.

  She hadn't looked back. Oh, how she'd longed to look back. But she knew if she allowed herself the indulgence, she'd see nothing more than the back of him, striding away from her, heading out of her life. She'd spared herself that.

  She'd forced herself to concentrate on the nightmare of the plane ride. No one had boarded after she did. She was late enough to earn herself reproving frowns from the plane attendants. When she'd found her row, she'd stopped short and swallowed hard. The three passengers that she was going to have to crawl across to reach her seat had eyed her with suspicious, long-suffering looks. She'd steeled herself once again, reached for her tattered guard, and plunged through them.

/>   Jaida shuddered at the memory. Coupled with her persistent nausea on the trip, it had been enough to keep thoughts of Trey if not forgotten, at least at bay.

  It was a couple of hours before sunset when she'd finished scraping the remainders of her meal into the garbage. Washing the few dishes took less time than she would have liked. She'd stood staring at the cabin rooms, their emptiness evocative of the way she felt inside. Making a swift decision, she'd strode to her room and repacked her suitcase.

  Her great-aunt Nora and her husband, Bob, would be delighted to have Jaida visit. Somehow she didn't think Granny would be surprised at all to see her. A couple of days away would give Jaida some time to reconcile with the fact that she was once again alone, in a way she hadn't been before.

  And it would give her time to figure out a way to live the rest of her life without Trey Garrison.

  * * *

  Trey sat on the couch of the borrowed mountain retreat, with Lauren's hand clasped in his. Benjy had just been laid down for an afternoon nap. After initial resistance to sleep, he'd insisted on Trey being the one to tuck him in. Trey had obliged willingly. He'd needed the time alone with Benjy, as well. He'd never understood how it was possible for one small creature to arrive on the scene and so naturally hold all the adults' hearts in his hand. It was a long time before he would lose the memory of the terror they'd been through when they'd lost him.

  Afterward he spent a fruitful fifteen minutes on the phone to Detective Reynolds. Then he turned on the fax machine to await the copy of the mug shot the detective would be sending them.

  "You have something to tell me," Lauren prompted him gently. Her green gaze, so like his own, was steady.

  He nodded. "Yeah, honey, I do. I talked to Reynolds twice today, and Maria Kasem spilled everything she knows. They have the name of the other kidnapper. Reynolds is getting ready to fax us a picture of the guy."

  "What's his name?" she asked.