by Alison Kent
"To Stonebridge? Or to needing Stonebridge?" The distinction was one Heidi knew well.
She'd left Sherwood Grove long after she'd reached the point of needing to leave. She just hadn't had the means to go—until it was offered. And offered by the boy this man had been.
Ben's chuckle rumbled deeply in his chest. The vibration met with no resistance as it settled behind Heidi's breastbone—way too close to her heart. She increased the distance between their bodies.
Ben stepped closer into her space. "I hadn't thought of it that way before, but you're right. I needed Stonebridge a long time before I arrived. It just took eight years, four career moves and one wife to get me there."
He'd been married. Or was still married. Damn that Quentin Marks and his nonmeddling, nongos-sip-mongering hide. Heidi corrected her second misstep and said, "How long have you been married?"
"Past tense." Ben's mouth lifted ruefully. "I wasn't sure if you knew that."
"No, but I'm not surprised. A Tannen is quite a catch. I would've been more surprised to find you'd stayed single." And now that she thought about it, this whole weekend would've been simpler if he had been married.
If Ben had been married, he wouldn't be holding her this close and she wouldn't be wanting him to and wondering why. She turned her wondering to his wife. "It wasn't Maryann Stafford, I hope."
Finally, Ben laughed. "No, she was a Katherine. We met at University of Texas. Both journalism majors."
Katherine Tannen. Terrible-sounding name. "I’m sorry things didn't work out. Did you have children?" Did she marry you for your money? Did she meet with your family's approval? Did you love her?
"Me and Katherine?" Ben shook his head. "No. We both had careers that demanded twenty-four hours, seven days a week. That didn't leave a lot of time for talking about family much less doing anything about starting one."
He said the last with a sense of resignation more than a sense of regret. She tried to ignore the fact that he was talking about his married sex life, or lack thereof. No matter her flippant thoughts, she hated that he'd been unhappy.
"I suppose that's best. That you didn't have children. Since you didn't stay together, that is." Heidi grimaced. Did high school reunions automatically return one's social skills to those of an inept adolescent?
Ben used the hand holding hers to lift up her chin. His eyes glittered with a strangely suppressed energy. "Relax. We're just catching up on each other's lives. Ask whatever you want to ask."
Maybe if she thought of him as still married, she'd survive his touch and this dance. And maybe if she didn't wonder what he was holding in check, she'd survive the night. "Okay. I wasn't sure if I'd overstepped the bounds of reminiscing."
"Reminiscing is fine. Just spare me the regurgitating."
She laughed. "Randy, that rat. He hasn't changed. And he's been telling a few too many tales to suit me."
"Tales? To Julie?" When Heidi nodded, Ben said, "They must've been good ones. You two seemed like the ones doing all the catching up."
"Just girl talk."
"Hmm. You didn't do much of that in school, did you?"
Heidi nearly stepped on his foot. "C'mon, Ben. It's been fifteen years, not fifty. You can't have forgotten that much by now. Who would I have made girl talk with in high school?"
"And now?"
Uh-oh. "Now what?"
"You have someone to make girl talk with now?"
"Of course I do." She had Georgia, so at least that wasn't a lie.
He pulled her tighter to his body. "What about boy talk?"
He held her close, his hold a taunt more than an embrace. Wariness stirred in her for the first time. "Boy talk?"
"Sure. You have anyone who whispers sweet nothings into your ear?" he asked, leaning forward to whisper into her ear.
She gave him The Joker's glare of disapproval. "Are you asking about my love life, Ben Tannen?"
"Well, I hadn't planned to, but the opening presented itself so..." He lifted a shoulder. She felt the flex of muscles through his sweater. "I could hardly say no."
"I see. Then, no." And, needing space, she slowed her steps.
Ben slowed his as well. "No?"
"No. No boy talk. No sweet nothings."
"A part of me finds that hard to believe. A part of me isn't surprised."
"A part of me finds that insulting. But since we're being totally honest here, I'm not surprised you feel that way." She smiled with her eyes. "Quentin and I may have been best friends, but you did know me better than anyone."
He didn't say anything for a minute, just slowed the dance until they were barely moving, until they were standing still in each other's arms. His hand flexed in the small of her back and his eyes were too familiar, too knowing as they searched hers for the truth.
How could he have known her better than anyone and not know a thing about her now? Her heart was suddenly beating too fast in a body that was too close to Ben's. Showtime, she thought and right on cue Ben spoke.
"Is it time to be totally honest, Heidi?"
"What do you mean?"
"C'mon. Let's get a drink," Ben said, taking her by the arm. He guided her toward the bar and chose two stools in the darkest comer.
Heidi was faced with hiking herself and her dress up onto the seat with Ben watching. She managed without exposing what shouldn't be exposed and didn't even lose the shoulder strap that began to slip as she settled.
Then Ben moved into her space in that very dark, very small corner.
"Beer?" he asked.
She nodded. She didn't want it, probably wouldn't drink it, but more than she needed to keep a clear head she needed something to do with her hands.
She was in a dark comer with Ben Tannen and he'd matured into more of a man than she'd been alone with since, well, ever.
He raised a finger and signaled the bartender who returned with a basket of peanuts, two longnecks and one frosted mug which he sat before Heidi. She poured slowly, letting the head build along with the tension.
Finally. The moment of truth. This is why she was here, wasn't it? To make things right with Ben?
The injury she'd inflicted had left a permanent scar on her memories of the past as thoroughly as it had on Ben's jaw. She needed to go through this.. .healing process.
It was a case of getting on with things, because until this very moment, sitting here next to Ben, his presence larger than life, she hadn't finally realized that she'd lived every day of her adult life waiting for this reunion.
"He's good, isn't he?"
"Hmm? Oh, Jack," she said, following the direction of Ben's gaze, watched Jack close his eyes and make the music come alive. "He is. I had no idea he kept playing after high school. Or that he'd stayed in the area."
"He left for a while," Ben said, cracking open a peanut. "School, then the military."
"Really? I didn't know."
He tossed the hull to the cement floor, tossed the meat into his mouth. "No reason you would have."
"That's true," she settled on saying. Why explain to Ben the reasons she hadn't kept in touch with a single one of her four best friends when she had yet to explain that to herself? "What does he do now? When he's not playing oldies in local clubs."
Ben laughed. "Seems strange calling these songs oldies. If they're oldies then I must be old and I'm not quite ready to admit to that."
"Hmm. If you were old I would be old and Jack would be old. I know I'm not. And Jack can't be, or he wouldn't be able to manage half those moves he's making up there. Whatever he does, he stays in shape."
"Once a military man, always a military man. And I'm sure he'll be glad to know that you noticed." Ben tilted his longneck Heidi's way for emphasis, then brought the bottle to his lips.
Heidi narrowed her eyes and glared. "Well, I can't help but notice. He's worked up a sweat and that T-shirt isn't exactly heavy-weight cotton." Nice, Heidi. Dig yourself in deeper. "So, what? Was he Army? Navy? Marines?"
"Marines. Now he's
a special envoy of some sort." Ben chipped at the label on his bottle. "I'm sure he'll tell you what he can."
"Ooh. A man with secrets. I keep hearing rumors that this is supposed to be an interesting weekend." She pressed her thumbprint into the frost of her mug, enjoying a bit of satisfaction at having spread the rumor. "Maybe it will be."
Ben's eyes glittered in the light from the neon bar signs. "What were you expecting from this weekend?"
Now, that was a loaded question. How honest should she be? Should she admit she hadn't thought much at all about the actual reunion? That her only purpose in coming was to take care of what should've been settled years ago?
No. That would be too much, too soon. She'd just follow his lead, let him set the tempo and the tone of their private assignation.
"I expected to do a lot of sitting on the sidelines. Maybe earn my own case of benchwarmer butt." Ben smiled at that and she added, "I don't have a lot of catching up to do, you know."
"I might have to argue with that, counselor."
Smarty-pants. "Let me rephrase. I don't have a lot of old friends whose lives I need to catch up on."
"I can think of at least four."
"The same four I came to see," she said, lying through her teeth. She'd come to see one. She just wasn't ready to let him know that.
"I've kept up with you, you know." He dropped the bomb, then reached for his beer, letting Heidi deal with the explosive aftershock as he sipped.
"You have?" she asked, surprised, pleased, pleasured. And troubled. Why would Ben keep up with her?
She was the one with amends to make and she hadn't even known the major changes he'd gone through in downsizing his life-style. "Do you mind telling me why?"
He shrugged, his yellow sweater beautifully contouring his wide shoulders. "Never managed to let go of that big brother complex, I guess."
Thud. Heidi's heart hit her stomach and both fell to her feet. Here she'd been wondering why he held her so close while they danced when he must've been trying to keep her out of the type of trouble she'd found so often in school.
She nodded. "You thought of me as a sister. I see."
"That was about as close as you'd let anyone get, Heidi."
She had to think about that for a minute, then supposed in a way he was right. Allowing anyone into her heart would've meant less room for the things that mattered most, at the time.
Besides, how would she have been able to leave if someone—anyone—had given her a reason to stay?
Heidi sighed. "Well, Ben. I never thought our relationship went beyond that of friends, but a sister..."
"It was a safe distance."
"You felt you had to keep your distance?"
Ben turned to face her, bar stool to bar stool. "Look what happened when I got too close," he said and met her gaze straight on.
She tried, truly tried not to look at the scar running the length of his jaw. She tried to hold his gaze, to hold onto the present, to keep the moment from sliding into the memories.
And she thought she'd done a fairly good job until Ben blinked, slowly raising long dark lashes to reveal the eyes of the boy she'd known, hated, admired, envied, and more.
She sighed. "We need to talk, don't we?"
Ben looked at her then, and while Heidi was struggling to breathe, he scooted forward on his bar stool and dug deep in his pocket. He pulled out a piece of paper, worn and folded.
Then he placed it flat on the bar, out in the open for everyone to see.
Of course no one but Heidi could know the truth and the pain of what was written, handwritten with purple ink, inside the folds.
And the fact that Ben still had it...fifteen years later and he still had it...
Memories sucked Heidi into the silt of the past. She felt the weight of the bicycle chain in her palm, felt the weight of hopeless desperation on her shoulders.
She saw again the check Ben held out to her, a simple draft—the terms of which couldn't have been more complicated in Heidi's mind.
He'd offered her money, a chance to start her education and she'd taken it, tying herself irrevocably to all that she'd condemned and hated about the Tannen way of life.
That day she'd lost the pride she'd held on to for four years, a pride that had kept her from believing what she knew was said about her—that she didn't belong, wasn't good enough, shouldn't forget where she came from.
Where she came from was coming back to haunt her now. Damn Ben for being her ghost.
He had an elbow propped on the bar and was staring at the paper square, twirling it with one index finger, spinning it around and around, drawing Heidi into the whirlpool of movement.
She felt fifteen years of confidence drain, leaving her with The Joker's arsenal of survival instincts. But The Joker now had the backbone of the Mighty Heidi Malone, which was an almost terrifying combination of moxie and mouth.
So, he had the nerve to silently threaten her with a moment of weakness that was fifteen years old? Fine, she'd turn his tables and dump the cards in his lap.
She pinned the note to the bar with one red nail. "Looks like you don't want to talk."
He cast her a sideways glance. The comer of his mouth lifted, deepening the dimple in his cheek. It was a smile, but he wasn't grinning. "I'm not sure you're up for the conversation I want to have."
"Now, Ace," she crooned, sliding off her bar stool and stepping close. She tossed her hair with the shrug of one shoulder, placed one hand on Ben's thigh. "You have no idea what I'm up for."
"That so?" he asked.
Nodding, she let the other hand trace the length of the scar she'd given him. It cut through the shadow of beard on his face the way she wanted to slice through his smug attitude.
So she leaned forward and, for the first time in her life, placed her mouth on his.
Chapter Four
DAMN, THE WOMAN COULD KISS.
The touch of her fingers along his jaw was hard enough to take. Her hand on his thigh was hell. But what her mouth was doing to his mouth...
Damn, the woman could kiss.
Her lips were silky soft as she gently rubbed them against his. The tip of her tongue moistened a warm trail first over his top lip then down along the bottom. Her wet and tender touch was the most erotically innocent contact he'd ever shared with a woman.
Ever.
And this was Heidi's mouth making wicked with his.
Ben gripped the neck of his beer bottle until the embossed glass rim left an imprint in the center of his hand.
His other hand had no such anchor and he found his fingers sliding into her hair—hair rich and thick and gorgeous to the touch and nothing like the bleached out scarecrow-straw of the style she'd worn in high school.
His palm cupped the back of her head and held her where he wanted her. Oh, yeah. He wanted her. In ways dangerous for a man to want a woman. Dangerous when the lure was forbidden, the temptation unknown.
But it was primarily due to the forbidden temptation of being with this woman, the same Heidi who'd intrigued him for far too long. Her allure had escalated over the past fifteen years, taking on the nature of a fantasy in his very down-to-earth thirty-three-year-old mind.
He kissed her back. It was easy to do. He tilted his head, pressed forward and caught her unawares. She gasped, a brief sound and briefer parting of lips, but Ben knew how to play. His tongue slipped boldly into her mouth.
He wouldn't have held her and kissed her against her will, but she put up no struggle. She melted against him like a lover—or so it seemed. Her body hadn't moved, hadn't outwardly responded in any way. But he felt her consent in the caress of her breath on his mouth.
Ben had enough conscious sense left to realize that no matter what he was experiencing they weren't creating a whisper-causing spectacle here in the dark corner of the club. At least, not yet. A good thing considering that half the club had been waiting to see them in action. And action wouldn't be long in coming if Heidi kept up this kiss.
&n
bsp; For now, though, the spectacle was all in his mind. Or in his mouth and rapidly moving lower. Heidi's tongue met every indecent, illicit advance his made.
He wanted to make love to her body. He wanted to feel her mouth on his skin and her tongue against his flesh. He wanted to strip her bare and take her fast, then watch her dress before removing her clothes slowly with his fingers. Exploring her the way her mouth was begging him to explore.
She kissed him more deeply, moaned low in the deepest part of her throat and moved her hand. The one on his thigh. She slid it upward along the material of his slacks until her fingers hit a roadblock.
She froze. He released her. She stepped back. Her face was nicely flushed. Even in the dim light, the color on her cheeks was high enough to see.
But it was the fire burning in her eyes that caught his attention, grabbed hold of his libido and wouldn't let go. She shook her head, then shook off most of the signals she was broadcasting, signals his pulsing antennae had no trouble receiving.
"Well, Ace. It feels like you are up for more than I am." She blew out a less than steady breath, pulled in another. "Tell ya what. I'm going to visit the little girls' room, then we can get back to talking about having that talk."
She eased out from between the bar stools and backed away from the bar. Her smile was the one The Joker had tossed off when she was in over her head. It struck Ben then how often that had happened, and how Heidi had always managed to survive.
This time she seemed different. Shaky. Like she wasn't sure how well she was going to snap back. He nodded, watched her go. She disappeared into the back hallway and he slumped forward. Both elbows propped on the bar, he braced his forehead on the heels of his hands and stared into the basket of peanuts.
What had just happened? What was that kiss all about? What was his brain doing in his pants? He'd planned to confront Heidi this weekend. She was the reason he was here. What he hadn't counted on was the way she'd reacted. To him.
He made her nervous, a truth she would have denied if he'd pressed. But she was right when she said that he'd known her better than anyone.
