Just Jessie

by Lisette Belisle

  Ben wasn’t there. He never spent the night. She placed his things in a corner. The pile didn’t take much space. Yet, he filled her life. He’d changed her, made her stronger—in every way but where it came to needing him. Each time he came to her, he broke down her resolve. Each night she promised would be the last, and each night, she lay awake craving his touch, wondering if he would come. Where was he tonight?

  And with Jared occupying his old room again, where did Ben expect to sleep? How could they keep up the pretense of a happy marriage if Ben didn’t sleep with her? At times she despaired of ever reaching through all the barriers dividing her and Ben, the man she’d married in such haste. She hadn’t had the leisure to repent. Until she felt more secure with him, she would never reveal her love. She refused to hold him that way.

  For the same reason, she couldn’t tell him she suspected she might be pregnant. She sat up and hugged her knees to her chest as she thought of this new impasse. She didn’t have to confess anything, but what if…what if…?

  Did she have the nerve? Before she could change her mind, she went downstairs. When she joined Ben on the porch, he put his arm around her, almost as a reflex. She took courage from that small but warm gesture of acknowledgment.

  Her courage failed. A southerly wind had risen. Bolts of heat lightning set fire to the sky. Jessie trembled at his nearness.

  “Are you frightened of storms?” he asked.

  “No, I like them.” Excitement made her glow.

  He chuckled. “Doesn’t anything frighten you?”

  He frightened her; what he made her feel. “Why aren’t you in bed?” she whispered, amazed at her own daring.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” he said dryly.

  She latched on to the distraction. “Don’t you think you should talk about your nightmares?”

  “No,” he said firmly.

  “If not to me, then…”

  “No.”

  She sighed. “Then, come to bed.”

  He stiffened, as if her invitation was the last thing he’d expected. Tilting her chin up, he gazed into her eyes. She hoped they didn’t betray the longing in her heart. His voice was husky. “I wasn’t sure you wanted me to come.”

  “I see,” she murmured, not seeing at all. She’d made love with this man, taken him inside her, let him take her— take her to the most intimate heights. But she didn’t understand him at all. Nevertheless, one issue needed to be resolved. The only way she knew how to deal with a problem was to confront it.

  “I’m your wife,” she blurted out. “I want to sleep with you—not just have sex.”

  Ben gritted his teeth. “We don’t have sex. We make love.”

  “Now you’re angry. I didn’t mean to imply…” She took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Anyway, you didn’t ask permission the first time.” The only time he’d stayed all night.

  He frowned. “That was different.”

  “How?” she asked, genuinely puzzled.

  “That’s hardly the point. I’m a restless sleeper,” he said, minimizing his nightmares. “I don’t want to disturb you.”

  “You won’t disturb me….”

  He drew her closer. His eyes crinkled into a wolfish smile. “I hope that isn’t the case.”

  She blushed. “You have to know I’m far from immune. I practically threw myself at you. Besides, I—”

  Ben swallowed a groan and whispered, “Shut up, Jessie.” He closed her mouth with a deep, drugging kiss. Running his hand up and down her arm, he felt silk. He released her abruptly and stared at her in amazement. She stood there in yards and yards of sheer, delicate, bridal white silk and lace. She looked beautiful, like an angel.

  Like an angel.

  She also looked unsure. Vulnerable. “Do I look silly?”

  She’d taken an emotional risk. He hoped he was worthy. If there was goodness anywhere on this earth, it resided in Jessie.

  “You look like a bride.” Ben took her hand and led her to her room. Their room. His belongings stood in one corner. He was firmly in her territory now.

  Jessie’s nerve almost failed as Ben undressed. His tanned shoulders gleamed, like polished teak; his muscles rippled as he unzipped his jeans. His complete lack of inhibition always made her feel tongue-tied and awkward. Her mouth went dry when his last stitch of clothing came off. He slept nude.

  She rushed into speech. “I’m sorry Jared isn’t friendlier.”

  Lifting an eyebrow, Ben shrugged. “He’s only showing brotherly concern. I can respect that.”

  Jessie hugged her arms around her waist, turning away, trying to ignore the growing, gnawing ache inside. “What do you think of him?” She rearranged a brush on her dresser.

  “He’s not what I expected.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Coming up behind her, Ben placed his hands on her hips and kissed her neck where wispy little curls settled against her smooth skin. “The golden boy, I suppose.”

  “He’s grown up.” Her tilted head allowed him access. In the mirror, she could see him bend over her. His height dwarfed hers. He seemed so large and dark and mysterious. Exciting.

  “Jessie.” He spoke her name low, in that gravelly deep drawl that invoked pleasure in her. The mere sound could make her want him. He held so much power over her. “It’s okay.”

  She turned, seeking his mouth, melting against him, loving the instant passion between them. “I just wish…”

  “Shh.” His lips covered hers and stopped the flow of words. “You can’t fix everything. Enough about Jared. Let’s think about us.” He peeled off her negligee, then touched her breasts through the thin silk nightgown.

  “Think about this.”

  How could she think at all when he touched her, stroking her passion to life? For now, all she wanted was escape. There would be time to worry about Jared and all the rest tomorrow. Ben stretched her across the bed and joined her. She linked her arms around his neck, aware of his surprise in the lift of his brow. Had she failed to show him that she cared, she loved? The flare of passion in his eyes stopped all her rational thought. There would be time enough to analyze her feelings later.

  Dr. Peterson called—Ira was coming home. Although Jessie had seen her father’s strength return, the news came as a surprise. She slowly hung up the phone. Her loyalty was sharply divided. She wanted her father home; she also dreaded it.

  Jared already complicated her situation. He tolerated Ben. But the workers weren’t quite sure who was boss anymore—Ben or Jared. Jessie bit her lip. She was trying so hard to put the pieces of Ben together, to make a complete whole of the man she’d married. She was trying, Ben was trying; should marriage really be so much work? In any case, her father’s return was bound to add tension to an already rocky relationship.

  It was just about lunchtime. With sudden decision, she filled a picnic basket with sandwiches, fresh brownies and iced tea and set out to find Ben. A mile down the road, she found a field being worked. She hid her disappointment; Ben wasn’t among the workers. Cal Pierce was there—with Serena Morales.

  The two separated guiltily. “Hi, Jess.” Young and defiant, Cal’s expression dared her to disapprove.

  While the women worked, Serena watched over Miguel and the other children. The girl’s sense of responsibility had impressed Jessie. Cal was a good kid but—like all the Pierces—spoiled.

  Jessie hoped their infatuation would wear off, which didn’t look likely, considering the secret glances they were sharing. Hopefully no one would get hurt. “I was looking for Ben.”

  “He’s over in the south field.”

  Jessie left them, aware that her total preoccupation with her husband must be painfully obvious. By now, her clothes were sticking. The thermos of iced tea had grown heavy.

  She found Ben at work, mending a stone wall. He lifted a huge rock as if it were featherweight. He’d removed his shirt. The muscles in his chest and arms rippled and glistened in the sun.

  He saw her. “You s
houldn’t be out here in this heat.”

  “I won’t melt. I brought you a cold drink.” She poured two glasses and handed him one. “And lunch.”

  “Sounds good.” He drank deeply, then carefully set his glass aside. “Now, why did you really come?”

  How could he read her so well when she still found him so mysterious? “My father’s coming home tomorrow.”

  He took a deep breath and said, “That’s good news.”

  “You will try to get along with him?”

  “I have no intention of making things difficult.”

  “I suppose I’ll have to be satisfied with that.”

  “Jessie…”

  “It’s all right. I understand.” She could only hope for the best. In her role as peacemaker between these two strong-willed men, she might turn out to be the loser. “I just don’t want any arguments,” she pleaded.

  He nodded. He refilled his glass and drank deeply.

  Jessie found herself watching the muscles of his throat work, struck by the power of his attraction. Perspiration gleamed. In fascination, she watched a bead of moisture from his skin trickle down his throat toward the hard ridge of bone etching his wide shoulders. Like a tiny drop of dew, it captured the sunlight, then rolled over the edge and disappeared into the thick mat of dark hair covering his chest.

  Her finger trapped another drop and wiped it smooth against his vital, tanned flesh. The movement in his throat stopped abruptly. He looked down at her hand now resting against his chest. His eyes darkened. Tossing the cup to the ground, he reached for her and dragged her close against him. He kissed her with a hard, immediate need that drained her and left her wanting more. Jessie wound her arms around his back, pressing into him, feeling his body heat raise hers. She ran her hands across the dampness of his back, kneading the taut muscles urgently, half afraid of what she was doing, yet unable to stop.

  For the first time with Ben, she didn’t try to control the instantaneous flood of emotion. She moaned and moved against him, silently begging for him to take her.

  He wrenched his mouth from hers. “I’ll tell Fred I’m taking the rest of the day off. Let’s make the most of it.”

  “Yes,” she whispered, barely containing her pleasure. He shared her reluctance to end their idyll.

  Ben watched her smile grow. Despite a lack of softness in her life, Jessie’s spirit had remained uncrushed. She was proud, idealistic, sensitive. Beneath her practical puritanical front, she hid a hot temper and a stubborn, determined streak—as obstinate as her dad’s. It was the first time she’d touched him freely and openly. He’d patiently waited for some sign that she wanted him. He’d ached for her to touch him. Now that she had, why did he feel threatened?

  Until his world had blown apart, Ben had thought of himself as coolheaded, efficient, hardened, ruthless if the need arose. With Jessie, he was still discovering needs he’d never known he had. He wanted her to make room for him, to welcome him into her home, her bed, her life. Sometimes he just wanted her to smile.

  “Let’s go to the pond.” Jessie wasn’t sure if she’d said it or Ben had, but her response was physical. “Yes.” This time, she wouldn’t shy away. She knew what she wanted.

  He took her hand and they walked across the fields, through dense plants and rich brown cultivated earth, and it felt new, as if they’d never walked this path before. With each step, her heart felt lighter. The distance seemed greater than the last time. This time, she had come to him.

  By the time they reached the pine-scented woods, her body felt tight, her clothes constricted her breathing.

  Tall ancient trees blocked the sun’s blinding force; delicate golden rays filtered through thick branches. Ben held a branch aside. She walked through into a green velvet bower, protected from seeing eyes. He released the branch to enclose them in a private world. Jessie went into his arms willingly. There was more than eager hunger in her kiss; there was desperation. When Ben met and matched it, she felt almost unbearably excited. Time was running out for them.

  He brought her down into the green, green grass among long-stemmed daisies that drifted lazily in the soft summer breeze. He kissed her, drawing her emotions into a maelstrom. Then he lifted his mouth to allow her space to breathe. “I want you so badly,” he murmured.

  The laughter in his eyes was gone.

  “I want you, too,” she whispered, sharing his need. She needed him like the earth needed rain, like a flower needed sun, like a woman needs a man. She no longer felt like a girl. Love had magically shaken her up, rearranged every molecule in her body and transformed her into Ben Harding’s woman. She loved Ben. She admitted the knowledge into the deep, hidden corners of her heart—all those lonely places of her childhood and beyond.

  As he undressed, Ben’s scars stood out against his tanned skin. Helplessly drawn, she ran the palm of her hand over the puckered flesh. “You were so hurt,” she said softly. She moved her hand against his thigh where a long, jagged scar marred the tanned surface. She felt his muscles ripple in response.

  “Don’t,” he murmured, trapping her hand under his.

  “Can’t I touch you?”

  “Please, yes,” he groaned. He moved her hand up into the coarse hair on his chest until she felt his male nipples harden. As if he couldn’t bear not to touch her in return, he slid her shirt off, tantalizing her with the slow slide of fabric across her breasts. He drew her down against him.

  Helplessly aroused, she pressed her naked breasts against him. He let her touch his scars and press her lips to them. With a groan, he turned her then and rested on her, letting his elbows take most of his weight. Desire kindled in his eyes as he looked down at her and touched her intimately. That look set her aflame. She wrapped her hands around him and drew him down.

  He kissed her, devouring her mouth as if he was starving for her. He sank into her, slowly, until she surged against him, wanting more of him, wanting much more than gentleness. Losing all restraint, he responded with the same mind-numbing urgency.

  Her cries of pleasure mingled with the soft puffs of wind, the lapping of waves on the shore, the flutter of wings as a flock of birds took flight. Jessie felt her heart pound against his; her pulse ran wild and free as she reached the height of passion and felt his body rock against hers. He cried out in satisfaction. His voice sent another thrill of pleasure over her, filling her with the joy of knowing she pleased him. Sated, they lay together.

  Gently, she touched his side. “Tell me how you got these scars,” she whispered. She needed to know.

  She felt him physically withdraw. He moved away from her, but not far. His words sounded as if they came from a distance when he asked, “Why do you want to know?”

  “Because it bothers you.”

  He shot her a quizzical look. “And that matters?”

  “Yes,” she summoned the courage to say. And that was all. She couldn’t tell him she loved him. Not yet.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “My unit was assigned to rescue a drug informant and his family.” Ben spoke slowly at first, then faster, as if he had to get the words out. “The whole town was ruled by a powerful drug cartel. Someone had tipped them off….”

  “Who?” Jessie asked in growing horror.

  “We never knew.” He took a deep breath. “They waited till the copter was full of passengers before they ambushed us.” His hands clenched into fists. “There were women and children.”

  “My God,” Jessie cried out in shock. The world he described was far removed from hers, yet it had been all too real for Ben. She could hardly believe he’d inhabited such an alien place. To Jessie, he belonged to the earth and the mountains—not to a cruel, violent world where men shot machines out of the sky.

  She’d witnessed his gentleness, and his hardness. Who was he and how did a man of war survive peace?

  “I knew it was dangerous,” he continued. “There had been leaks before. I should have refused the assignment. The town was a hide-out. A plane was an easy
target.”

  “You had no choice,” she insisted, feeling his pain.

  “Didn’t I?” he said quietly. “I could have argued that a land operation would be safer. It still would have been risky, but it would have saved a few lives.” He-closed his eyes. “As it turned out, no one stood a chance in hell. Everyone died and I lived.”

  “Ben, you didn’t choose life, it chose you.”

  He sounded angry. “I can’t just forget it and go on with my life as if nothing happened.”

  She wanted so desperately to help him, to reach him. “You could have died, but you didn’t. And I’m glad.”

  It was as much of an admission as she could make, for now. She wasn’t ready to say she loved him; not yet, and probably not until he’d said the words first. He silently reached for her.

  But had her words reached him? She prayed they had; that somehow he could find the strength to forgive himself. Until then, their future lay locked in his past. She held nothing back when he made love to her. Give me a reason to stay, he’d challenged her after they’d first made love. When they came together, he was everything to her. Was she everything to him?

  Was she reason enough for him to stay?

  A few days later, Ira came home. “I won’t be coddled,” he announced. When Jessie tried to send him to bed, he collapsed in his favorite chair. “I’m fine right here.”

  Later, Jessie informed Ben, “I have to sleep downstairs to keep an eye on Dad. He might have a weak spell.”

  She avoided his gaze. Ben folded his arms and watched her collect her nightgown and robe. “I see. And whose idea was that? No, let me guess….”

  “Please understand, Dad needs me,” she said, obviously feeling pressured and hurt by his lack of understanding.

  Ben sighed, resigned to the situation. “Of course, you’re right.” Her father came first; he probably always would.

  Perhaps Ira was having second thoughts and feeling threatened by his daughter’s allegiance to her husband. That first week, Ben refused to give Ira the satisfaction of knowing he’d succeeded in driving a wedge between them. Jessie was exhausted; she had no time for anything but her father, least of all, a husband. Ben made no demands on her.