by Misty Simon
“Well, I really did want to see you again, but then as I pulled up at your house, my cell phone beeped with your message. I checked it from the car, and you sounded kind of scared, but distracted. And that’s when I came up to the door.”
“Oh, God, that’s right. I forgot I was leaving you a voicemail when I saw the shadow at the kitchen window. Was that you going across the window?”
“No. I walked right up your pathway.”
“But someone walked by the window. Are you sure it wasn’t you?” I started pacing again. I wanted him to say it was him. Because if it wasn’t Ben, then it had to be someone else, someone else who maybe had it in for yours truly. And I wasn’t willing to think about that prospect right now.
“Like I said, I walked right up to the door. So I didn’t walk in front of the window. And that means it must have been someone else.” His voice deepened and his eyes—his green, green eyes—narrowed.
Apparently his protective instinct was going on high alert, because he got up from the couch and started pacing right along with me, but in the opposite direction. My living room was in no way big, and his cross-course pacing meant we kept wriggling around each other when our paths met. Which made for some interesting body part bumping. Down, Ivy.
“Did you get a good look at the person?” he asked, during one wriggle in the middle of the room that put his hip in direct contact with my lower stomach. Shivers ran down my spine, and not the spooked kind. My hands literally itched to grab him, so I folded them into fists and stuck them in the pockets of my sweats.
“Are you kidding me? I flipped off the lights as soon as I saw the shadow, and then you came to the door. Wait a minute, wait a minute. That means someone could still be lurking out in back of my house. Oh, no!”
Like a choreographed dance, we moved in tandem to shut off the two lights in the entryway and then came back to each other, whispering.
“Do you think he’s still out there?” I asked.
“No, I’m pretty sure he’s gone, with all the commotion we made. Actually, turning off the lights this late in the game was not our brightest idea. I doubt he’s still here, and even if he is, I think we’ve probably let him know we know he’s out there.”
“Okay, the weird thing there is I understood that. And second, I, for one, am happy to let him know I’m aware he’s out there, because it keeps him out of here.”
“Point taken, but who do you think it was, and what did he or she want?”
“I don’t know, but it’s creepy. Everyone in town must know I’m not exactly loaded, so it can’t be theft.” Even in my mind it sounded stupid to really think some person was going around killing all the women in the town, so I didn’t offer that as an alternative to theft. Instead, I waited for him to come up with some bright idea and share it with me.
“I don’t know what else it could be,” he said. So much for bright ideas. “But it is very strange, coming so close on the heels of Janice’s death earlier tonight. We haven’t had a crime here in Martha’s Point in years. Other than various rowdy brawls after too much drinking, and high school pranks, this is a quiet town. Then all of the sudden there’s a death and a possible stalking.”
I was spooked. My brain was not working right, with all the leftover adrenaline. There was a murderer on the loose, and let’s not forget my lingerie thief. A creepy creeping person had been on my porch not long ago. I blamed all these things for the next words that came out of my mouth. “Very weird. You want to stay the night?”
Chapter Twelve
I retrieved fresh sheets and towels from the tiny linen closet in the hall for my guest. And wondered what on earth I thought I was doing by allowing (Allowing? Puh-lease. I’d asked him.) Ben Fallon to stay the night. Had I gone off the deep end?
He was temptation personified for me. And did I really, truly know that his story about not being the shadow was true? For that matter, how did I know he wasn’t the killer?
Well, the last was a dumb question. Or was it? Ben had been with me, dancing and kissing, before I’d found Janice. But would he have had enough time to kill her while I was asking all those partygoers where I could find her? I didn’t think so.
I decided to ask him. But maybe that would set him off, if he was the killer. Clean towels and a washcloth still clutched in my hand, I agonized over what to do. If he was the killer, I’d invited him into my house, and he was drinking beer from my refrigerator. If he wasn’t, I could spend the night completely alone because I’d asked a stupid question. Argh.
All right, I’d think of something. But I really didn’t see Ben as the killer. I put the towels and washcloth in the bathroom and went out to find him.
He was sitting on the couch again and looked relaxed. Too relaxed?
“So, did you have a good time tonight, other than the whole murder thing?” Good one, Ivy, smooth, like Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey. Feeling the fool, I sat on the wing chair directly across from the couch.
“That was horrible,” Ben said, his head hanging low. “I can’t believe Janice is gone. We weren’t really good friends or anything, she had moved here about a year ago, but she was nice the few times I met her. She did some of the ads for the newspaper, and she was always so easy to work with. I hope the police hustle and find out who killed her.”
He sounded sincere, and my doubts were disappearing faster than the above-mentioned Chunky Monkey when I used the big spoon. I figured sometimes you had to trust your gut instinct, and though I didn’t think I’d ever used mine, it was telling me to trust Ben. Or was that my libido talking?
“I’m not fully licensed yet on the private investigator thing, but I’m going to offer to help,” he said, fierce determination glinting in his green eyes. “And even if they won’t take my help, I may look into it myself.”
“But what would you do?” I curled my legs up under me and pulled at a thread on the hem of my sweatpants, wishing I had something sexier to wear. But the frolicking bears on my pants and the hole in my shirt mocked me with their complete lack of sexual appeal. Maybe that was a good thing. I didn’t want him to want me, right? Wrong, my body yelled. Okay, I wanted him to want me, but not before I knew him. Dammit, that was getting old.
He jerked me back to the conversation with his response. “I’d do my best to find out who killed her. I know almost every person in town, and not many of them know I’m studying for a private investigator license. To them I’d be a concerned and nosy citizen. Someone might slip up and say something they didn’t mean to let out when I’m around.” He paused. “I know it’s not a foolproof plan.”
I must have done a rotten job concealing my skepticism. “I’m sorry,” I said, feeling bad because I’d doubted his innocence and his ability to help. Who was I to tell someone they weren’t good enough to help in some way? In fact, the whole helping thing was sounding more and more appealing. Maybe I could help too. I’d made up my mind earlier to find out who had killed someone so young and vibrant; perhaps this could be my opportunity. “I shouldn’t have scoffed at you for wanting to help, Ben. You’re better qualified than I am, and yet I’m trying to figure out a way to help, too. Forgive me?”
The sexy smile came back, and I had about two seconds to interpret it before Ben’s lips were on mine again, which sent me spiraling out into the ether of fantasyland.
The shrill ringing of the telephone brought me back to earth and reminded me to tell Ben about the creepy voicemail message.
I ran to the kitchen and grabbed the phone off the wall. “Hello?” I said, seriously afraid it would be the deep-voiced creepy caller again.
“Ivy, I’m so glad you’re there,” Bella’s words tumbled one over another. “I’m assuming you got home safe since you answered the phone. Can you believe what happened tonight? I don’t think we’ve had a murder here in about ten years. I’m going to come over. It’s too spooky in my house right now. If I’m not there in ten minutes, come looking for me.” And she hung up.
Okay, I’d h
ad no time to tell her anything, and now I had to explain to Ben that we would be having another guest. So much for more kissing, although maybe the presence of another person would keep me out of trouble. At least I could hope. I replaced the phone in its cradle in the kitchen and turned to face a smiling Ben.
“So where did we leave off? I think this hand was here.” He touched the sensitive skin behind my ear, effectively cradling my head. “And my other hand was here.” He rested his other hand on the swell of my hip. “And my lips were definitely...” And he kissed me again.
His mouth caressed mine, sending tingles down my back and turning my legs to goo. His grip on my hip tightened and kept me upright as he eased my lips apart, then plundered with his tongue. My head was swimming and parts of me were definitely liquefying.
And then the doorbell rang.
“Shit,” I said, breaking away from those soft lips.
“Busy night around here.”
“Yeah, lucky me.”
“Do you want me to go?”
Decision time. I could tell him yes, since Bella would be here and between the two of us we could probably protect ourselves. But then again, on the other hand, why should I send Ben out into the night? It wasn’t like I didn’t have the room, and I would rather have a guy here, too. Not discounting the fact that the thought of Ben spending the night in my house with me right down the hall was very appealing. Maybe I could sneak out in the middle of the night...
I put the brakes on that thought. I needed to sort out the hormones from the real feelings first. How much of a factor was lust? And how much was it my heart telling me Ben was a really great guy I could see my new self having more than a fling with? Argh!
“No, don’t leave. It’s only Bella; I guess she’s spending the night, too. Do you mind?” I walked toward the front door with its stained glass window.
“Hmmm. Decisions, decisions. Two beautiful women, one me, a little house with cozy furniture. I think I can deal.”
He followed me to the door, and I socked him in the arm for his insolence. “Shut up.”
I flipped the lock on the door, and it flung open with the force of a hurricane. Bella, two suitcases, a duffle bag, and a plastic grocery sack came flying through the door and went straight into the kitchen. “Hello, Ivy. Ben.” There was the crinkling of plastic in the kitchen as I watched her take out dip, chips, and a bottle of wine and put them on the counter.
And then she did a classic double-take. “Ben? Oh my, my, my. Am I interrupting something?” The smug smile said she didn’t care, and was truly enjoying the moment as well as my discomfort.
“No, you’re not interrupting anything.” I hoped I wasn’t sporting a completely embarrassing blush. “Ben’s staying the night because I’m spooked about the murder thing, too. But I have plenty of covers, and you both can stay.” I bit my lip and plunged into the next part. “Since you’re both here right now, I forgot to tell you about a scary voicemail I got when I checked my messages after Ben left.”
“What? What message?” Ben asked, a frown wrinkling his forehead.
“Let me play it, and then I’ll answer any questions you have.” I dialed the voice mail service number and played the message for them. When it was over, goose bumps popped out on my arms.
Ben asked to hear it again. He started taking some notes in one of those little memo books we all had as kids. “So you didn’t recognize the voice?” he said, looking all serious and extremely hot.
His hands rested on his rock solid thighs, his expression intense, but my eyes kept wandering to the package I’d accidentally fondled at the bar and was thinking of on-purpose fondling again, sometime very soon. Down girl, your hormones are sparking so hard you’re liable to burn the freaking house down.
“Uh.” Man alive, it was hot in here. “No. I didn’t recognize the voice.”
“Well, the message was pretty cryptic. You did a good job by keeping it. Now we have to figure out what it means.”
Bella went back to the kitchen to get some tortilla chips and guacamole. I’d turned her on to the Mexican snack the first night we’d gotten together, and now she was addicted, like me.
Ben took the opportunity to sit on the arm of my chair and toy with the ends of my hair. “Did I tell you how much I love your hair?” he asked right next to my ear. “And this spot right here, under your ear, is so sexy. As soon as I get near you, it’s like a homing beacon leading me right to the spot and the scent there.”
Holy God, help me. Was it possible to have an auditory orgasm? If so, let me tell you it was mind shattering. I was pretty surprised I didn’t slide right out of the chair and onto the floor.
Bella came waltzing back into the living room, loaded with goodies, and was a welcome distraction from my weak will when it came to Ben Fallon. “All right, lady and gent, here’s chips, guac, and your choice of wine or Corona beer. Let’s dig in and try to figure out what the hell is going on in our sleepy town.”
Unfortunately, we got a little drunk (read: we all passed out in my living room) talking about Ben and Bella as kids and teenagers. Mostly we were trying to distract ourselves after we realized how little information we really had about what was happening in Martha’s Point. I got all the dirt, but when I woke up in the morning, sprawled in my wingback chair, I felt like that dirt was lodged in my mouth.
“Yeck,” I said, and got a groan in return. Was it a masculine Ben groan? I looked down over the side of the fabric chair to see Ben lying on the floor, using one of my boots from the entryway as a pillow. No way was that comfortable, but he looked so cute.
I almost gave in to the desire to kiss him awake, then pulled back, horrified, when I thought of what my breath must smell like the morning after.
In my whole sheltered life, I’d never over-indulged before, and now I knew why. My head hurt worse than it did when I had nagging customers on a premenstrual day, and my body was suffering from the uncomfortable chair I’d slept in. Ack!
I was mentally reviewing the meager contents of my refrigerator in hopes of some bright inspiration for a post-binge breakfast when the antique clock on the mantel started sounding out the hour.
“Oh, no.” I didn’t think I wanted to see what time it was. The sun was shining in through the living room window, which meant it was definitely some time after seven in the morning. The ding, ding, ding continued, and even my fuddled mind could count to ten, which was when the dinging stopped. I looked to the mantel for confirmation and almost had a coronary.
It was ten a.m. TEN A.M.? I was so screwed. The shop was supposed to open in exactly thirty minutes, and here I was, still in my sweatpants and sweatshirt from last night. Not to mention my mouth felt horrid, my hair was probably a mess, and there were two people sleeping in my living room, dead to the world.
Yep, I was so screwed.
“All right, people. Up, up, up.” I clapped my hands like I was at some kind of elementary school assembly, but it did the job. A bleary-eyed Bella peeked over the back of the couch at me, and Ben sat up from the floor with a snap.
“Wha...” Bella said, and Ben groaned. Okay, that was definitely the groan I’d heard earlier, and it was still as yummy as it had been then.
“I need you guys to get up. I have to be at the shop in twenty minutes, which means you have fifteen minutes to grab your stuff.”
Ben had this terrible sleep indentation on his cheek in the form of the stitchwork on my boot. I snickered. He was so damn cute.
“Leave the key, Ivy, and we’ll lock up after ourselves,” Bella said.
Was I comfortable with doing that? I mean, Bella was my friend, but I’d only met her a handful of days ago. And if Ben and I got to know each other better, he could end up being my lover, but this was my house, and I’d never had anything that was solely mine before. Was I ready to blithely hand over the keys?
“Don’t think so hard, for God’s sake. You’re giving me a headache just looking at you,” Bella said, as Ben fell over and started snorin
g.
“I’m not thinking too hard. I’m, uh, trying to think about how that would work. Besides, don’t you have to go to work today?”
“It will work in the way that I will bring the key to you before I go to work, which, if you remember correctly, is right down the street from The Masked Shoppe.” She pulled a pillow over her head, dismissing me.
“You don’t have to be so bitchy,” I said, but under my breath.
“I heard that, and yes, I do. I’m hung over and tired, which makes me bitchy. And you’re trying to kick me out of this very comfy couch at the crack of dawn so you can be all obsessive-compulsive about your shop. Who cares?”
I saw the opportunity to cull a little of the wind from her sails and couldn’t resist it. “If by the crack of dawn you mean ten in the morning, then I apologize.”
That got her moving. She shot off the couch like someone had lit a firecracker under her rear end. “Shit. Ten in the morning? I scheduled a special appointment today at eleven, and I’m still in my clothes from last night. I’m so screwed.”
“Funny, but I was thinking the same thing when I tried to get your ass moving ten minutes ago.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Come on, loverboy,” she said, pressing a socked foot into Ben’s belly. “Get up. We have to go. You might not have anything that needs to be done today, but we do, and you can’t stay.”
Another grunt came from the floor, and Ben, absolutely adorable with his rumpled brown hair and sleepy green eyes, sat up again. “Oh, man, I feel like I spent the night on my old bed at my Grandma’s house.” He stretched his awesome arms and broad shoulders, making my mouth water. I was going to have a tough time staying celibate if he kept moving that way. I was starting to think my whole mind-over-lust approach was way outdated.
“That must have been some bed your grandma saved for you, because you spent the night on Ivy’s wood floor with a boot for a pillow. Nice sleep creases, by the way.” Bella moved toward my bedroom and its attached bathroom with a lot more purpose than I would have given her credit for five minutes ago. Thirty seconds later the water started running. Which left me alone with Ben.
