This Love of Mine

by Miranda Liasson

  “Oh, is that you, Meg, Olivia, Alexa?” his grandmother had said, staring down at them through wire-rimmed spectacles. “I thought you girls were hoodlums.” Then she’d come out, helped them toss a few last rolls, and fed them cookies and hot chocolate afterwards.

  Meg swallowed hard at the simple pressure of Ben’s hand as it squeezed her poor stuck foot. The claustrophobic air of the elevator dragged into her lungs as slowly as thickly set pudding. Then it happened.

  He looked up. Saw her. His eyes went wide with surprise. For the briefest flash, she stared into his gorgeous eyes, soft brown with flecks the color of clover honey that had never once failed to turn her boneless.

  One swift tug dislodged the shoe. But his touch, so firm yet gentle, his nearness, his possessive grip on her foot, it was all too much. Instinctively, she jerked back.

  Her stuff toppled. Dress bags collapsed. The sewing bag tumbled. Her purse whacked him in the head before it crashed and spilled.

  When the avalanche stopped, they were both left on the ground, a little stunned and surrounded by debris.

  “Well, I’ll be.” Ben rubbed the back of his head and cast her a bemused look. “If it isn’t Meggie Halloran.”

  CHAPTER 2

  “I’m so sorry,” the petite firecracker sprawled on the floor next to Ben said as she shook her head to clear it. Delicate lines of worry and disbelief creased her smooth forehead as she surveyed the fallout strewn across the elevator floor. The lines soon faded, replaced by anger that sparked from green eyes as vivid as the moss that grew on the north side of trees at the lake. “And thanks for trying to help me but don’t call me that.”

  “I’ve always called you Meggie.”

  “Well, that was fine when I was twelve but not anymore.”

  He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Fine. Sorry, Margaret.” She blushed furiously. He’d always been good at tormenting her and was pleased to see his comment hit the mark.

  “And may I please have my shoe back?” One elegant hand extended in determined supplication.

  He’d expected her usual sweet smile and thanks. The belligerent attitude surprised him from a woman he’d always known as tame and even tempered. He hadn’t expected burrs in his ass.

  He kept his hands high, the shoe dangling at a jaunty angle from his fingertips. She snatched it back and surprised him again by pulling off her second one and standing up to gather all her fallen belongings.

  “Why didn’t you say hi?” he asked as he helped her gather up the wedding dress that seemed to weigh half as much as she did.

  She stabbed him with a look that said Seriously? “Before or after your girlfriend huffed out?”

  “More like she hightailed it out of here faster than if the hotel were on fire.” He rubbed his neck, a little embarrassed, and met her cool gaze. “And she’s not my girlfriend.” As soon as he said that, he felt worse. Why was he trying to justify himself in front of her?

  As they talked, the elevator door snapped shut and they began to move. Away from her floor.

  Meg looked up to see the numbers blinking in descent. “Oh, no. Now I’m even more late.” She ran to the panel and pushed random buttons. The doors clattered open on the second floor. An elderly couple was walking in slow-motion towards the doors. She pushed the Close Door button. “Sorry!” she called and gave a little wave as the doors slid shut.

  He couldn’t resist whistling. “Must be an important appointment.” He gathered a lipstick, a brush, a pack of gum, and a dog-eared paperback with a picture of a tortured-looking, bare-chested, tattooed guy in tight black pants. A woman, also in black, stood behind him, her hands all over him. “Intriguing.”

  She snatched that, too.

  “Priscilla Kline’s engagement party starts in an hour. I’ve got her and her mother’s dresses and her bridal gown. And I’m late.” She glared at him like it was all his fault.

  “You shouldn’t be carrying this all by yourself, Half Pint.” He grinned at the old name he and her brother used to torment her with as teenagers, when it was clear she wasn’t going to grow an inch beyond her five-two-in-her-socks height.

  She stopped gathering her stuff to shoot him an exasperated look. “Things have been a little hectic with Alex out.” She shook out a dress that had crumpled to the floor. Ben knew from his sister Samantha—who was working in the bridal shop over the summer to help plan the upcoming Labor Day bridal show—that Meg was overextended. Even with Meg’s grandmother Gloria, who used to own the shop, temporarily filling in.

  “I’ll carry that,” he offered.

  “I don’t want your help,” she said adamantly. “You should run after your date.”

  Disdain dripped from every word. But then, over the years, he’d given her no reason to like him. In fact, he’d done his best to elicit exactly this very reaction from her. Yet she’d never been this indifferent—or angry—and somehow it rankled.

  Now she was on her knees, scooping junk back into her purse, her gorgeous ass in the air as she reached far and wide to gather her possessions.

  And a fine ass it was, curvy and molded into a form-fitting black skirt that rode a little high on her creamy thighs, definitely not her usual hippie-chick look. She must have caught him ogling because she yanked her skirt quickly down into professional zone.

  She wore a classic black suit jacket but underneath, a bright pink cami exposed the curve of her breasts as she bent low. Her hair, usually long and thick, was caught up in a businesslike twist, sleek and shiny and rich in color like his grandmother’s mahogany dining table.

  She stirred him in a primal way. She always had, even though he’d never go there. His gut and his fists clenched in a feeble effort to stave off the potent mixture of sadness and regret that pierced his heart, but there was no escape.

  Suddenly, he felt short of breath and stood, sucking in a deep breath of musty elevator air to halt his panic. It was probably the close quarters and that fragrance that drifted around her, airy and light, that reminded him of apples.

  A memory nudged him. From that sweet, innocent time before Patrick died and changed their lives forever. She must’ve been sixteen, and Ben had walked her home from school. They’d taken a shortcut through old man Stedman’s property, and she’d reached up and picked an apple from one of the scraggly trees and took a big bite.

  It was green and sour and made her pretty lips pucker. On impulse, he’d snatched the apple from her hands, and she gave an indignant “hey!” He stood inches from her and took a long, slow bite, chewing with as much relish as if it were a decadent piece of chocolate.

  Her protests subsided, replaced by silence as she stared at his mouth and swallowed hard. He stopped laughing, mesmerized by the bright, intense look in her eyes. Something sparked between them, quick as an electrical short that plunges the world into darkness. He reached for her, their apple-tart lips pressing together. Her lips were warm and soft and delicious, and he didn’t even realize he’d dropped the apple and tugged her closer.

  He used her soft gasp as an opportunity to slide his tongue gently over hers, loving the way she pushed up on tiptoes, meeting his every stroke with her own as he wrapped his arms around her soft body and pulled their bodies flush. She was heaven, her taste sweet as strawberry lip gloss, her smell like fresh fall air and fruity shampoo.

  They broke apart when the old farmer moseyed out onto his porch and yelled at them to scat, to get along and go home.

  Even through the old man’s tirade, he couldn’t bear to break the spell and let her go. “I thought Eve was the one who got them in trouble, not Adam,” she whispered.

  He would’ve gotten them in plenty of trouble, if she weren’t Patrick’s sister. The sister of his best friend. And then the sister of the boy he could not save.

  She was a nice, nice girl, and he didn’t do nice girls. Ever.

  And especially never her.

  In the elevator, as Meg bent to collect the rest of her possessions, he caught a glimpse o
f black lace and creamy flesh from underneath that electric pink cami. His mind went blank, replaced by one thought: Did her panties match the bra?

  He’d almost forgotten the urgency of his own dilemma, but he’d take the distraction any day. He gathered a lipstick, a pen stamped with a local politician’s slogan, a tampon.

  “I’ll take those.” She used both hands to accept the objects and dumped them in her purse. Her hands were so much smaller than his. Her stature gave the impression of fragility, but her recent edginess had him rethinking that impression for the first time.

  “I’m here for a business dinner,” he said. “With Dr. Donaldson and his wife.” For the job of a lifetime. One he was sure to blow without a date.

  She stopped and looked at him, appearing surprised at what he’d just shared. Hell, he was surprised, too. “My mom told me you were thinking of applying for the ER job,” she said.

  Ben nodded carefully, unable to even begin to explain how critical getting this job was to him. Donaldson, the CEO of the hospital, was a longstanding bastion in Mirror Lake civic society. He’d taken a fledgling hospital and built it into a decent and reputable operation. He was determined to get the right candidate for the job. Someone who understood the community. Who wanted to establish roots.

  Unfortunately for Ben, that meant someone married, preferably with a kid or two to fill up the Mirror Lake school system.

  But Ben understood this town more than anybody. He would not let the fact that he was a confirmed bachelor stop him from getting the job he was meant for.

  “Well, your grandfather would be proud of you,” Meg said, “carrying on his legacy and all.”

  She mystified him with her ability to put her finger on the very heartbeat of what drove him. His paternal grandfather had died a long time ago, shortly after he’d graduated from high school, but he still missed him. A family doctor, beloved by the town, he’d been Ben’s mentor, his savior, given him strength and purpose and taught him he was worthy, even though he couldn’t stop what had happened to his best friend. This job would be Ben’s way to pay him back for everything he’d done for him.

  “You’re the hometown son. They’ll hire you in a heartbeat.” She flicked her wrist in an of-course-you’ll-get-the-job gesture, for a second forgetting to be angry. Her honest, genuine smile shot straight through to his groin. She was beautiful even when she was mad, but when she smiled, she was all delicate features, a small nose, and full lips that made him want to—

  He shook his head, as much to shake off his lusty thoughts as to correct her thinking. “Dr. Donaldson is looking for the one thing I don’t have.”

  She raised a skeptical brow even as her gaze raked him over the coals. “What exactly haven’t you got?”

  “The other two candidates are married, and the wife of one is expecting twins in September. Donaldson wants to be assured the winning candidate settles well and permanently into town, and having a family is the best guarantee of that.”

  He expected a sympathetic look. He got a laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” He frowned. “God, Meggie, you’re just as infuriating as you were when you were twelve.” She and her two best friends had known no bounds to the constant torment of him and his brothers. Like the time on a Scouts campout when they’d tied Ben’s and his brother Tom’s shoelaces together and woke them up screaming that a bear was coming. Of course they’d fallen flat on their faces.

  But she wasn’t twelve any more. She was curvaceous and lovely, with sparkling eyes the color of fresh spring grass. She concealed her mischievous smile apologetically with her hand. “I’m sorry. If you need a potential wife and kid before dinnertime, I just wonder what possessed you to ask a woman who looks ready to perform in a Vegas show, not join the rotary club. What were you thinking?”

  He shrugged. Desperation, that’s all it was. Until yesterday, when one of the administrative assistants in the ER tipped him off that tonight was a personal test, he hadn’t even planned to bring a date.

  Meg frowned. “It’s discriminatory to pick someone for a job based on their marital status.”

  “Tell Donaldson that. He’s been around for forty years and he can damn well do what he pleases.”

  All the stuff was gathered. Ben took the dress bags from her arms and her purse and sewing bag from her shoulders as she stepped back into her shoes.

  “Are the dresses ruined?” he asked.

  “The wedding dress is just a fitting, so a few wrinkles won’t matter. I can touch the others up with my iron if I have to.”

  He led the way down a graceful high-ceilinged hall with elaborate crown moldings and dizzying wallpaper with enough gilt to coat the palace at Versailles.

  “Thanks for helping me,” she said graciously enough, but her look was wary. As if she were contemplating what kind of man he’d become and found him coming up way short.

  For the thousandth time, he wondered if she judged him, like it seemed so many others had, for what had happened to her brother. Not a day went by that he still didn’t feel the pain of that loss. He’d gone out of his way to avoid her, unable to accept that she might hate him. I would never let him go alone to that quarry now, he wanted to cry out. I would never have let him drink alone, or swim alone, if I had known. If only I would have known.

  There was no way in hell he could ask her to help him out. He’d worked hard to push her away over the years and for both their sakes, it wasn’t a good idea.

  Besides, he’d have to be near her for an entire evening, smelling her sweet fresh fragrance that reminded him of those lazy summer afternoons of his youth at the lake, spent fishing and swimming and sunning. He’d be tantalized by watching those luscious lips when she turned them up into a killer smile, imagining what it would be like to kiss her until her hot curves melted into him. His mind would wander, thinking what her body looked like under that conservative suit in that black lacy underwear. And that would be a very, very bad idea.

  She tugged down her cami, straightened her jacket, ran her hand over her hair for flyaways. Then she held out her hands to accept the rest of her stuff.

  “You look great,” he said.

  And winced inside. He’d blurted that out like he was fifteen. But she was a knockout and he hadn’t stood this close to her for a long, long time. He’d forgotten how creamy her skin was, how striking against the near blackness of her hair. Her eyes sparkled with a no-bullshit candor that was so, so appealing.

  With horror, he realized he wanted to kiss her. Right here in the middle of this old hallway with its oriental rugs, the dim-lit sconces for atmosphere, and crazy patterned wallpaper that kind of made his eyes hurt. He stepped back to clear his throat and his thinking.

  “Well,” she said. “Thanks again, Ben. See you around.” She turned to walk away from him forever.

  Unable and unwilling to let her go, he grabbed her arm. Her gaze flew from his fingers gripping her suit jacket to his eyes, which may have looked just a touch crazed.

  She was just what he needed—for tonight. She was appealing and approachable in that girl-next-door kind of way that drew everyone in. And she was the town do-gooder. She knew every senior citizen and lost cause for miles.

  But no, he couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right, it wouldn’t be fair. His conscience struggled. Just walk away, it told him.

  “What is it?” she asked, looking concerned. “The top of your head is sweating.”

  He tried to let go of her arm. Willed his feet to work. But nothing in him would obey. His whole body had gone rogue in the desperation to keep his one chance for this job from slipping though his fingers without a fight.

  “Would you consider being my date for tonight?” he blurted. He hadn’t felt this awkward since a hundred years ago when he’d asked a girl to prom.

  Her eyes narrowed, and his stomach pitched worse than when he’d rode the old roller coaster at the now-defunct theme park outside of town. “Sure, right after I grow three more bra sizes and get collagen inject
ed into my lips. I’m nothing like your—friend.”

  Her words were definitive but for a moment he thought he saw confusion in her eyes. Or at least hesitation.

  “I-I wouldn’t want you to be. You’re perfect just like you are.” Shit, what could he possibly say to make this worse? That sounded like he was pumping her up with fake compliments just to get her to help him out. “What I mean is, you’ve got everything they’re looking for.”

  And maybe everything I’m looking for, too, a rebel voice whispered that he immediately shrugged off.

  She rolled her eyes. “Benjamin, if I hadn’t known you practically from birth, I’d have guessed you were the youngest Rushford brother. You’re too used to being a Charming Charlie.”

  “Meggie, I’m not trying to charm you. You’re adorable and effervescent and personable.”

  She stared at him like he had a fever. And like she didn’t believe a word he’d said.

  Why should she? For years he’d given her the cold shoulder. He’d never flirted with her after Patrick died and had never, ever, encouraged her in any way.

  Because she had no idea that her brother might still be alive if it weren’t for him.

  There was no way to atone for the foolish mistakes of his youth, and God knew, it wasn’t for lack of wishing. The best he could do was to save as many other lives as he could, to build all the skills and gather all the knowledge he could so others would have a chance.

  But even that would never bring back his best friend. And he would never be able to face her with his most horrendous shame.

  He understood her pain even more than she knew. He’d lost his own brother, Kevin, and his wife Trish, a little over a year ago in a car accident, leaving his oldest brother Brad and his wife Olivia to raise their little daughter, who was now one and a half.

  He’d lost his parents in an accident, too, when he was thirteen, and he and his brothers and his baby sister had gone to live with their maternal grandmother. Effie was a widow by then, but she’d stepped forward to take them because his Grandma Rushford had been fighting a battle with cancer, which she’d ultimately lost. Life sometimes hurt. A lot.