Just Jessie

by Lisette Belisle

  There was a shortcut through the woods, a narrow well-worn path cut among the towering pines. The land curved naturally to form a secret cove. The moment he saw it, Ben knew he’d made a mistake. The cove was too isolated.

  Jessie felt his hesitation and wondered what had happened to alter his mood. She turned back to find him studying her with a frown. “Is there something wrong?”

  He shook his head. “Let’s swim.” He peeled off his shirt. His body was long and lean, muscular and tight-knit, without an ounce of spare flesh. Her heart ached at the white scars marking his side. They stood for some part of his life she didn’t understand, something he wouldn’t share—one of many things. For the time being, he was in her life, but she wasn’t allowed to enter his. Perhaps she never would be. Feeling self-conscious at the lack of privacy, Jessie was sorely tempted to duck behind a rock and undress. Instead, she turned and pulled off her T-shirt and shorts. When she turned back, he was staring at her modest navy blue swimsuit, a leftover from school days.

  He frowned at her. “You don’t usually wear a bathing suit.”

  “How do you know?”

  Ben set his hands on his hips. “Never mind, I just do. What if I said you didn’t need one now?”

  “I wouldn’t believe you,” she returned, unblinking.

  Did he think she was completely naive? Face flushed, Jessie turned and dived cleanly into the water. Moments later, he dived in beside her. He wasn’t wearing swimming trunks. Gasping, she swallowed a mouthful of water. Recovering quickly, she took a deep breath and swam underwater to the opposite shore. A rock rose out of the water. Jessie came up for air and leaned her back against it as she searched the pond for some sign of Ben.

  Since their wedding, each hour had been slow torture for her, wondering when he would reach for her, when the impasse would end. It ended when he surfaced in front of her. The water lapped against the shore, like a soft sigh.

  “Who taught you to swim like that?” he teased, smiling as his hands closed over her bare shoulders.

  “Jared,” Jessie whispered, caged in by a pair of strong masculine hands. His thumbs idly traced the curve of her breastbone. She added breathlessly, “He was all-state—”

  “Champion,” Ben finished for her.

  “How did you know?”

  He shrugged. “It figures.”

  Jessie wanted desperately to feel the excitement of his touch again. Ben bent his head and kissed her mouth, not touching her anywhere else. She wanted more contact. When she let her body drift toward him, his long legs locked around her. The intimacy was immediate and shocking. Although her nerves signaled the first sensation of alarm, she couldn’t summon the strength to resist—not yet. His arms moved around her, bringing her to him. Locked in his embrace, she drowned in sweet sensation, both new and exquisite. She felt no threat, just a warm slow exploration that soothed her even as it aroused. When his hand slipped between them and fondled her breast, she moaned in pleasure. The wanton sound shocked her.

  His husky voice whispering, “Jessie,” shocked her even more. “Just let me kiss you, touch you.” His voice was full of passion, his kiss drugging. “We won’t go any further.”

  Ben didn’t wait for her answer. He untied her swimsuit and lowered the top to reveal her breasts. The shock of cool air felt like a bucket of ice-cold water. Pleasure became mixed with apprehension, fear. Fear of giving herself to a man’s passing pleasure and having nothing left—no pride, no resistance. No tomorrow. Ben’s deep voice soothed her objections. She saw admiration in his eyes as he looked at her.

  “You’re perfect, Jessie,” he said. “So lovely and delicate.” He cupped her breast and gently circled the nipple with his thumb until it was rigid with need. When he stroked it and gently squeezed, the sensation pierced her with shocking sweetness. He kissed her and she became lost. His hands moved to her back and started to roam downward, tracing her spine.

  Alarm bells began to go off in her head. He slipped his hands inside her suit. “Ben, stop.” She drew away and stared at him. “This is far enough.” Her words came out in a rush. Hearing the note of panic, she wanted to find a hole and crawl inside; to her dismay, she sounded like a frightened child.

  He drew a deep breath before saying, “We’re married.” His voice held a note of exasperation.

  Jessie couldn’t blame his impatience at her drawing back, but it wasn’t that simple for her. A piece of paper and a few words spoken in front of witnesses meant nothing. She bowed her head to escape the dark accusation in his gaze. Gathering the ties to her swimsuit, she drew it up to conceal her breasts from his dark, aroused gaze. “Our marriage is only temporary.”

  His eyes flashed. “What does that mean compared to what we feel right now? How can you deny it?” Brushing her feeble objections aside, he kissed her deeply, reaching into her for a response she ached to give. If only he felt something more, she might silence her doubts, stifle her need for security. He’d never hinted at love. And she couldn’t take the risk. When he released her, she drew a ragged breath.

  She curled her hands against his chest. “I won’t let you use me.” Her voice sounded as desperate as she felt.

  “Use you!” His face tightening, he started to argue, “Jessie, that’s not the way it is. You should know that.”

  She lifted her chin. “Can you promise you’ll stay?”

  Something pained flickered in his eyes, as if she’d touched an exposed nerve, a raw wound. Ben dropped his hands. His jaw went rigid. “Ask me something else. Anything else.”

  Just as she feared, his refusal could only mean one thing—their marriage had no real future. It was only temporary. She’d known all along, but it hurt to have him spell it out so clearly. Why had she asked? Jessie could have lived with the pretense of being a wife a little longer. She shook her head, putting an end to her pathetic little fantasy of a happy, normal marriage. Was there such a thing? “There is nothing else.”

  Why had she clung to a false dream of love? She could survive without love. She’d survived thus far. But she wanted fidelity, she wanted his promise, she wanted a lifetime. She would settle for nothing less.

  “You could come with me,” Ben suggested. The words seemed to surprise him almost as much as they surprised her.

  To Jessie, the offer sounded forced, as if he felt obligated to make it. After all, they were married, but he could safely assume she wouldn’t leave since she was tied to her father and Stone’s End. Since he knew she had to refuse, she didn’t even consider it seriously. “You know I can’t leave.”

  Ben smiled tightly. “What about when your brother comes home? What then?”

  Momentarily confused, she said, “My father will still need me.” How long would it take him to realize her brother probably wasn’t coming? Even if Jared came, he wouldn’t stay.

  “Right.” His spine rigid, he turned and swam back to the opposite shore as if the devil’s own hounds were after him.

  Jessie waited until he’d wrapped a towel around his waist before swimming back. She felt cold. She walked out of the shallows, reached for her towel and buried her face in the folds.

  “I’m not going to apologize,” he said quietly.

  Feeling illogically disappointed, she shrugged. “I don’t expect you to.” Had she wanted him to persuade her, convince her that she had to go with him? That she belonged with him? But no, he would never claim her completely, not totally. He didn’t want her heart. She wrapped the towel around her, sarong-style.

  “Damn it, Jessie,” he said, exploding at her reserve. “You should. You should tell me to go to hell.”

  He had no idea how tempted she was to do exactly that, but she suspected his experience of hell was a lot more personal than hers. “Would that make you feel better?” she asked curiously.

  His lips moved in a taut smile. “No. There’s only one thing that will make me feel better, and we both know what that is.”

  Jessie felt a blush rising from her chest. “Are you alwa
ys so, so…”

  “There is a word for what you’re trying to say. I won’t shock you with it. Let’s just say, I haven’t been with a woman in more than two years and leave it at that.”

  “How can I leave it at that?” She wanted to hide from the raw confession, but couldn’t, not if she wanted to know more about the man she’d married. And, heaven help her, she did. When he started to turn away, she said, “Please explain.”

  Without thinking, she placed her hand on his forearm and felt the muscles ripple in reaction to her light touch.

  He looked down at her hand, until she felt as if her fingers must be branded on his skin. Then he slowly raised his eyes and searched her face for a long moment before he said in a voice of steel that somehow failed to hide his anguish, “I haven’t felt like being with anyone for a long time.” His smile twisted at her sharp gasp. “I want you, Jessie. As shocking as that might seem to an innocent like you, it’s a minor miracle to me.”

  When her gaze wandered to the scars riddling his chest, he added dryly, “And no, I’m not suffering from some old war wound. At least, not physically.”

  “Ben, I…”

  “Don’t say it, Jessie. I don’t want your pity.”

  In that moment, he reminded her of a hungry timber wolf. Each year, in the spring, one or two often turned up on her doorstep—half starved after a long hard winter, suspicious of human contact, afraid to accept it. Some starved to death rather than eat the food she left out. Jessie softened at his harsh tone. “I wasn’t offering any pity.”

  “Weren’t you?” His cold blue eyes flickered over her.

  “No,” she said. She wasn’t sure what she was going to offer, but it certainly wasn’t pity.

  Ben’s mouth tightened with unreleased tension; he smiled grimly. “Well, at least we agree on one thing.”

  His words mocked everything she felt.

  Hours later, the sun set on another day. Jessie made iced tea and they sat on the porch—rocking. Ben felt like one half of an old married couple. Unfortunately, the other half—his better half, some might argue—wasn’t sharing the same sentiment. After day one, marriage was beginning to feel like a lifetime sentence. The honeymoon stage hadn’t gotten off the ground before it was over. And yet, oddly enough, he could picture growing old with Jessie by his side.

  Fred stopped by. He helped himself to a glass of iced tea. “Sure is humid. Might storm later,” he predicted. “You both look hot. Why don’t you go for a swim?”

  “No.” Ben smiled when Jessie’s voice overrode his.

  “No.” She rocked more rapidly.

  Fred finished his drink. “Well, I just stopped by to check on Daisy. She’s due to drop her calf any time now. It’s her first, and you never know what could happen.” With a glint in his eye, he fixed a grin on Ben. “Know anything about birthing calves?”

  Ben shook his head. “I know horses. That’s it.”

  Fred chuckled. “Looks like you’re about to learn. Jessie knows all about cows. If you give her a hand, Daisy will do the rest.” Ben couldn’t hide his alarm. Fred added, “Night, now.”

  After he’d left, Ben released a sigh. “How are we supposed to get any sleep worrying about Bessie?”

  “Daisy,” she corrected—all the cows looked alike to Ben. “We’ll set the alarm and take turns checking on her.”

  Ben set his clock.

  At ten, the night was black. He walked out to the barn where a small light was burning. Jessie was there.

  She looked startled. Obviously, she wasn’t expecting him. “I thought I had first watch.”

  “So did I,” he said ruefully. It looked like they’d done it again—miscommunicated. Lamplit, the barn was inviting, surprisingly clean, sweet-smelling with the scent of new hay, and Jessie in her blue-and-white nightgown. Ben felt a jolt of pleasurable awareness. He swallowed and tried to look away, but each time she moved, the fabric clung to her shape. The fabric wasn’t sheer, or sexy; in fact it was quite modest, but with the light behind her, she might as well have been wearing nothing.

  Jessie ran her hands over the cow’s side. “Position is good. Nothing’s happening though, and Daisy looks content.”

  “For now.” Ben leaned against the stall and fought his base instincts. He wanted Jessie’s hands on him. “I suppose Jared taught you how to do that.”

  “Mmm.” She smiled, all innocence. How could she not know how she affected him? “He always wanted to be a vet.”

  “Of course, he would have made a fantastic vet.”

  She ignored his sarcasm. “The best.”

  “Now why doesn’t that surprise me?” Ben grinned weakly, ignoring a prickle of unease. Was he jealous of her brother? If Jared was such a champion, where the hell was he? Why had he left his sister to cope? Ben was beginning to suspect her brother must be a prize jerk—a spoiled, selfish one at that. One thing was for certain: neither Jared nor Ira deserved her loyalty. And neither did he—her husband. Husband. The word sounded odd when applied to himself. Somehow he’d never thought of himself as belonging to a woman.

  “Jared wanted to be a vet—what did you want to be?” he asked, beneath Jessie’s questioning gaze.

  With a smile that made him want to groan in frustration, she moved to the other side of the cramped stall. His eyes took their fill of her soft curves and shadowed secrets.

  “You mean besides star pitcher for the Red Sox?”

  He chuckled at her answer. “Besides that.”

  She shrugged a smooth, tanned shoulder. “I just always wanted to be a farmer. I like the life. Do you?”

  “Hmm,” he murmured absently. Just as he’d suspected, his chances of separating her from Stone’s End were slim if not impossible. “Have you heard from Jared?”

  “Um, no.” She averted her face.

  Her guilty look made him suspicious. A few things started to add up—Jared’s bare, empty room, Ira’s evasiveness. “Just as a matter of interest, when was the last time Jared came home?”

  She left the stall. “More than two years.”

  Ben said carefully, “When were you planning to tell me?”

  “I don’t see where it concerns you.”

  “Don’t you? Don’t you think I had a right to know that for all practical purposes, Jared isn’t coming back?”

  Her face closed up. “No.”

  “Damn it! I almost left you here on your own….”

  “But you didn’t.”

  No, he hadn’t left. Her simple acceptance of life cut off his temper. If he had left, she would have managed. Quite simply, Jessie didn’t need him. The knowledge stunned him.

  Thunder cracked in the distance. The lights dimmed.

  “We’d better get back,” he said, resisting his need for her.

  By the time they reached the house, the wind had picked up, scattering large droplets of rain, driving them inside. Now, Jessie’s nightgown clung damply to her breasts.

  “You can get some sleep,” Ben said, knowing he was in for another sleepless night. “I’ll check on Bessie first.”

  “Daisy,” she corrected automatically.

  He smiled grimly. “Right.”

  “You’re sure? Because I can—”

  “Jessie, go to bed,” he interrupted. When she walked out, chin held high, he closed his eyes in pain.

  Ben couldn’t go to bed now. All he could think about was Jessie wearing her pretty nightgown—and his taking it off. There was a blue ribbon and tiny buttons…

  Ben ran a shaky hand through his hair. He was going out of his mind. Left alone, he paced. Rain lashed the windows. Lightning lit up the room; each accompanying crack of thunder set his nerves on edge. Out of excuses, Ben went to bed.

  Lying awake, he tried to think of something pleasant. Jessie. Moment by moment, he relived her brief sweet surrender at the pond, then her rejection. A roll of thunder sent a shudder through him. When he finally slept, his dreams were filled with her. She was there with the rockets exploding and bodies f
alling. She held her hand out, as if she could lead him to safety, to the land of the living. But he was struck down, burned up, paralyzed. And yet, she was still there, waiting.

  He woke suddenly with her name on his lips. Jessie. The erotic episode with her at the pond had been only a prelude. He couldn’t spend another solitary night and keep his sanity. Despite every inner warning, he was going to add one more crime to his list—a crime of passion.

  In the hall, Bandit went for his ankle.

  Chapter Twelve

  A shift in the mattress woke Jessie. A firm hand gently massaged her back. She sighed in pleasure. She felt a breath in her ear, a whisper. “Jessie.” Ben’s voice drifted over her, along with the slow delicious glide of his hand down her spine.

  “Hmm?” she murmured into her pillow, wishing he would stop, wishing he wouldn’t.

  “Are you awake?”

  “No.”

  “You’re lying.” He was sitting on the edge of her bed. His low masculine laughter melted her insides, like fresh honey on warm bread. She didn’t want to move.

  Jessie opened one eye. Stifling a yawn, she rolled over. She gulped. Looking no farther than the black mat of hair on his chest, she focused on the throbbing pulse in his jaw; his chiseled mouth; his scar. His dark eyes gleamed down at her.

  She swallowed hard. “What time is it? Is something wrong with Daisy?” She’d fallen into an exhausted sleep, her emotions wire-drawn with tension. His presence magnified that vague uneasy feeling a hundredfold.

  “It’s midnight.” He leaned over her. His hand on her waist dropped the comfort level another notch. “The cow’s fine, or as fine as she’s going to be until she delivers.”

  “I should get up. She might need me.” His hand felt heavy, shifting upward. Jessie couldn’t move. Then, she didn’t want to move when he took her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. He trailed a row of kisses up the inside of her arm. “Ben,” she said weakly, closing her eyes to ward off the sweet rush of pleasure. “Ben, I don’t think we should be doing this….”