She cocked her head coquettishly and batted her eyelashes. “So, wanna get naked?”
He almost choked on his obvious shock. “Jill, that isn’t funny.”
“Who’s laughing? That was a test.”
His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What kind of test?”
“To see whether or not you and I have ever been intimate.”
His lips repeated the word. “How can you tell from one question? One shock-jock question, I might add.”
Jill closed the gap between them. “If you’d pulled me into your arms and said, ‘It’s about time. I thought your parents would never leave.’ I’d say it’s a safe bet we’ve done it.”
She was close enough to smell him. The first days home from the hospital, when she spent most of the time sleeping, she’d drawn comfort from Ben’s scent. Somehow she always knew when he was in the house.
Ben stood his ground but he kept his arms at his sides. “And by choking as I just did…you’ve decided what? That we’re just friends?”
Jill dropped her chin. Probably. But that didn’t mean she wanted it that way. “I guess so,” she said softly, staring at her painted toenails. When did I paint my toenails? Why did I paint my toenails?
Ben’s low chuckle made her want to throw her arms around him and crawl inside his skin. “Oh, Jill,” he said, drawing her into his arms. “You have no idea how glad I am to have you back.”
She melted against him. Home. I’m finally home. She didn’t bother to analyze that thought. She was content to revel in his warmth, his comfort.
“I feel as though I should bow down before every single one of those heathen gods in your family room. I love…having you back.”
Jill heard him stumble over that last, but she paid it no mind. She was too happy. “You do?”
His lips whispered the word yes against her hair.
She looked up. “So…do you want to get naked?”
His eyes darkened with desire and she thought for a minute he might take her up on the suggestion. He tightened his hold and kissed the corner of her mouth. “Yes. I’ve spent a week wanting to do this.” His mouth covered hers, his lips drawing from her a moan of yearning. Soft yet commanding, Ben’s lips knew her secrets, her needs. His mouth pressed for access. His tongue teased and tempted, but she sensed a restraint to his playfulness.
Jill broke it off. “You’re not going to make love to me, are you?”
The cloudy haze of passion cleared in his eyes. “Not today.”
“Why not?” Jill blushed, knowing her words sounded as whiny as any seven-year-old’s.
“Whitehurst said nothing strenuous.”
“We could take it easy.”
His lips curved upward in a grin. “I don’t think so.”
A shiver of delicious longing passed through her. Maybe it would be worth the wait.
“Besides, I have to go somewhere this afternoon.”
Jill didn’t like the sound of that. She’d come to rely on his presence, even though a part of her knew he was only on loan until Czar was released from medical leave.
“Where?”
“Work.”
“Can I come?”
He laughed. “No.”
“Please. I’ll wait in the car. I could take Czar’s place. I could be your partner.” The more she thought about it, the better Jill liked the idea. She could almost see herself sitting in the passenger seat, riding shotgun for Ben. She wouldn’t even mind hanging out in the far back area if he didn’t want anyone to see her. “Think about it, Ben. You’re off duty at the moment. I could ride along. Be your sounding board.”
She flashed what she hoped was a cajoling smile. “Better than talking out loud to yourself, right?”
“Who said I talk out loud?”
She rolled her eyes. “Czar, of course. He told me all your secrets.” She tickled him under the arm. “Please. I’m not ready to stay alone. I don’t care if there is a fancy new alarm system. I’m just not ready.”
He seemed to hesitate.
“You could take me to your house. I wouldn’t mind hanging out with Czar. I just don’t want to be alone.”
Ben took a deep breath then let it out. “Okay. Get your coat.”
She gave him a sloppy salute and a peck on the cheek. It wasn’t as good as getting naked, but it was a start.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
BEN NEVER would have brought Jill along on this fool’s errand if Amos hadn’t suggested it. After leaving Jill’s house, they’d stopped at the Bullion Police Department to file Czar’s medical report. Amos had greeted Jill warmly and mentioned that Dorry Fishbank’s mother had called a few minutes earlier to report her daughter missing.
“Now she’s missing?” Ben had cried in exasperation. “I’ve been calling that woman for over a week and she keeps saying Dorry is fine.”
Amos had shrugged in typical Amos fashion and given Ben permission to visit the Fishbanks to write up the report. “Why don’t you take Jill along?” he’d added. “Since she and Dorry are friends, Jill might pick up something you’d miss.”
Jill, of course, had jumped at the chance to be involved. Her enthusiasm hadn’t lasted long, though. After about fifteen minutes of driving, she’d dozed off. Ben had moved his portable console to the floor and made a pillow for her out of the heavy sweatshirt he kept under the seat. That had sufficed until the road turned bumpy, then she’d wiggled around to find a more comfy spot for her head—his lap.
What kind of fool lets the woman he desires place her head within inches of his sexually deprived libido? Ben grimaced when another pothole caused an unfortunate contact.
His grip tightened on the steering wheel. Focus on the road, he told himself. Reaching out, he turned up the volume on the radio. Jill had selected the station. Something young. The beat stirred his pulse.
He glanced at the directions clipped to the dash. It shouldn’t be much farther. Thank God.
The dusty road reminded him of the first back-road adventure he and Jill had undertaken. They’d been hopelessly lost. He’d been a bear and she’d been utterly delightful. Was that when he’d fallen under her spell? Or was it that first day when she’d stepped out of her little red sports car?
Ben frowned picturing the MR2 in her garage. “No driving,” Whitehurst had ordered. “Just to be safe, Jill, I’m stopping your driving for a month. Head injuries are tricky, and I want to make sure you’re a hundred percent.”
“But how will I get to work?” Jill had protested.
The engaging doctor had blithely countered, “Who said I was letting you go back to work? You have a computer at your house—telecommute.”
Although her parents had supported the idea, now that they were gone Ben knew he was going to have his hands full trying to keep Jill from jumping back into life full force. Perhaps that’s what he admired most about her. While he’d devoted his life to keeping things static, Jill thrived on upsetting apple carts.
Joely had been telling him for years that his life was boring, too predictable. Ben had never understood—in fact, he’d been annoyed by the suggestion that something was missing from his life. But now he got it. An occasional splash of color—like Jill’s hair—added zest to his world. New tunes—a little Ricky Martin—changed the tempo.
I need someone like Jill in my life. I need Jill.
As if hearing her name, Jill moved. As she stretched her neck, her nose accidentally brushed against his fly. Ben sucked in his gut and held his breath. Half-asleep, she sat up and dropped her chin to his shoulder. Snuggling close, she suddenly licked his cheek. A slow, languid lick that ended with a clap as her tongue popped back into her mouth.
Ben stomped on the brakes. Fortunately, he’d only been going five miles an hour. While the stop wasn’t all that jarring, it got Jill’s attention. She blinked owl-like and looked around. “Are we there?”
“Jill,” Ben said soberly, trying to make sense of the weird emotions rushing through him. “You just licked my cheek.”
She frowned. “I did?”
He nodded.
When she didn’t add any comment or explanation, he asked, “Why did you lick my cheek?”
A slow blush crawled up her neck. Her eyes wouldn’t meet his. “I…I…are you sure it wasn’t a kiss? I’m very affectionate when I wake up from naps. And I was having this great dream.”
“Were you a dog in your dream?”
She sat back as if he’d struck her. “Of course not. Why would you say that?”
“Because you licked my cheek. Just the way Czar does.”
She moved to her side of the seat. “I had no idea you were so rigid. Does this mean you only like everyday, run-of-the-mill, man-on-top sex?”
Ben threw up his hands. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. I was just a little concerned about the lick. It’s not that I don’t like licking. I just wasn’t expecting it right here. Right now.”
She glanced out of the corner of her eye. A smile played hide-and-seek with her lips. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Ben threw his head back and closed his eyes. He was scared all right. Scared he might be losing his mind. He took a deep breath. “I apologize. I overreacted.”
When he opened his eyes, Jill’s face was one inch from his. She smiled then leaned a little bit closer. With the tip of her tongue, she outlined his lips. Her breath was warm. It smelled of French fries, which they’d picked up at the drive-through window of the burger shop on the way out of town. “Is it okay to lick if I ask first?”
Her teasing tone made him laugh. He’d have answered, but the image of her tongue on certain parts of his anatomy robbed him of breath.
Her smile slipped and she cocked her head as if straining to hear a sound. “A car’s coming. We’d better pull over,” she said, moving away.
Ben didn’t hear anything, but he eased the Blazer to one side of the narrow path since the road curved just ahead and he couldn’t see around the bend. A cloud of dust was his only warning. It was followed by a loud blast of a horn. The vehicle disappeared before Ben could get a good look.
“Maniac,” Jill called over her shoulder. “What a moron! Driving that fast on a road like this.” Misinterpreting Ben’s look of bewilderment, Jill patted his arm and said, “Don’t worry. We’re almost there.”
Worry? Pretty much. He just couldn’t pinpoint the exact cause. There were so many possible choices.
WHILE BEN TOOK DOWN the details of Dorry’s disappearance from her mother, Jill looked around. The dark paneling of the double-wide mobile home and thick drapes gave it a cavernlike feel. Every spare inch was cluttered with junk—from car parts to broken TVs.
Picturing Dorry in such a depressing environment made Jill sad. No art, no books—just a stack of yellowed National Enquirers beside one of the mismatched recliners that faced a huge television. A small, weasel-like man who’d been introduced as Dorry’s stepfather, Roy Paten, occupied the other chair.
Where does Dorry sit when she’s home? Her brothers apparently lived in the trailer across the compound. Jill had spotted three unsmiling men watching as she and Ben walked to the house.
“Are you really a friend of Doreen’s?” Dorry’s mother asked. Jill and Ben sat across from the woman at the messy dining-room table.
“Dorry and I went to school together,” Jill said, answering the woman who eyed her suspiciously.
Although she resembled Dorry in general build, the woman looked old enough to be Dorry’s grandmother. Jill could tell by the yellow stains on her fingers and withered lines around her lips that she’d been a longtime smoker. Her breath seemed to rattle going in.
“I work for the Sentinel. I wrote that article about Dorry a couple of months ago,” Jill said. “Did you see it?”
The woman’s face brightened, a crooked smile replacing her hard look. “Was that you? I bought ten copies and mailed them off to all my stupid relatives back in Oklahoma. That was real nice. You write good.”
Jill reached across the table and touched the woman’s hand. “Thank you.”
“About Dorry, Mrs. Fishbank,” Ben said, obviously anxious to stick to the purpose of their visit. Jill saw him fiddle with the cap of his pen. Ben didn’t fiddle. “When did you talk to her last?”
Jill studied his profile. Forehead tense. Lips compressed sternly. Basic cop stuff, but something was different. He seemed uncomfortable, nervous.
“It’s Paten,” the woman told him. “Stella Paten. Fishbank was my first husband. He cut out when Dorry was a baby. Roy ’n me been together ten years.”
“Sorry. Mrs. Paten, the last time we spoke you told me your daughter was safe and sound. Has something happened to make you change your mind?” he asked.
Stella took a cigarette from a mangled pack and lit it, then dropped the shriveled match in a cantaloupe-size ashtray filled with butts. Her hand shook as she reached to pick up a small, colorful postcard from the counter behind her. “This just came in the mail.”
Ben looked at both sides then passed it to Jill.
A splashy glimpse of paradise. Aquamarine water. A showy parasail with two bikini-clad women soaring in an azure sky. The notation at the bottom read: Mazatlán.
Jill turned it over. The note was brief: Mom, Having so much fun I might never come back. Don’t worry about me. Love, Dorry.
Jill closed her eyes, trying to picture her shy friend in this mecca of bathing beauties.
“You gotta help us,” Stella said, blowing out a big cloud of smoke. “Something’s not right. Doreen would never abandon us—her brothers, me, her job. I don’t know what we’re going to do. Roy’s disability barely covers the rent.”
Jill looked at Ben. A cynical glint in his eyes told her what he thought of Dorry’s mother’s concern for her daughter.
Jill could see moisture collect along the red rims of Stella’s eyes. “Perhaps it’s just a lark,” Jill said, trying to give the upset woman some kind of hope. “I know I’ve felt like running away before.”
Dorry’s mother punched out the half-smoked cigarette. “Dorry always said she’d leave someday. I just never thought she would.”
Roy Paten, who’d been staring at a car race on the muted television screen, rose and walked into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and took out a can of beer. “Dorry’s a dreamer. Always had her nose in one of them damn love books. She used to say her prince was gonna come for her some day.” His bitter laugh turned to a wicked cough.
“Does your daughter own a car?” Ben asked. “It doesn’t seem likely she’d drive to Mexico, but I suppose it’s possible.”
Stella answered. “Roy found it parked down in her regular carpool spot. She switches off driving with a gal from the dentist’s office. When Dorry’s boss called asking for her, Roy hiked down the hill and there it was. Unlocked. Keys under the mat.”
Jill felt Ben’s inquiring look. “Stella, would you mind if I poked around in Dorry’s room a minute?” she asked. “Maybe she left behind a clue of some kind.”
Stella led the way down a dark hallway that smelled of cat urine and ancient tobacco. She pushed open a door and stepped back to let Jill and Ben enter.
Talk about night and day.
Neat as a sailor’s bunk on inspection day, the small room was filled with light and color. The white eyelet cover on the mattress of the brass daybed was almost hidden by stuffed animals and ringlet-adorned dolls.
Jill and Ben exchanged a look of surprise. Jill walked to the five-foot-tall bookcase filled with paperback novels. Fat historicals. Contemporary novels of every size and type.
“I had no idea Dorry was such an avid reader,” Jill said. She picked up the novel lying facedown on the glass-topped wicker table beside the bed; a folded piece of paper acted as a bookmark. Jill pulled it out and opened it up. “I guess one doesn’t need a car to get to Mexico if one has passage on a cruise ship.”
Ben stepped closer. His masculine presence seemed out of place in the girlish room, b
ut he didn’t seem bothered in the least. Focused, intense, he scanned the sheet of paper she’d found.
Her heart did a little pirouette when he looked at her and nodded. “A faxed itinerary. This ought to help.” He turned to Stella. “I’d like to take this, if you don’t mind. Maybe the travel agent who booked it can give us something.”
Stella suddenly looked uncomfortable. “She didn’t do nothing wrong, did she? I mean, I don’t want to get her into trouble. We’ve had enough of that with the boys.”
Jill took the woman’s arm supportively. “Don’t worry. We just want to make sure Dorry left of her own accord, not because someone threatened her or anything.”
Stella frowned—as though the thought had never crossed her mind. She turned away, motioning them to follow.
At the entrance, Ben asked, “Just out of curiosity, did your daughter have enough money to purchase a ticket on a cruise ship?”
Stella’s frown deepened, and she nudged them out to the front porch, which was littered with weathered boxes of all shapes and sizes, a derelict recliner and several overly ripe bags of garbage. She closed the door behind her. “I don’t want Roy to hear,” she said softly. “Dorry’s been putting away money from each paycheck for years. She called it her dowry.” She winced as she whispered the word. “I looked in the strongbox where she kept it and it was all gone. Every penny. Musta been almost two thousand dollars in it.”
JILL WAS SURPRISINGLY QUIET on the drive back to town. Ben wasn’t sure that qualified as a good thing.
“Not what you expected?” he asked.
She jerked, startled. “What? Oh, you mean Dorry’s parents? No, pretty much what I thought they’d be like.” She sighed. “It’s not their fault, you know.”
“Pardon?”
“Dorry’s folks. They’re doing the best they can.”
Ben shrugged. He didn’t want to be the one to pop her altruistic bubble. He’d known hundreds of losers like Dorry’s parents. Hell, his folks weren’t much better.
She gave a tug on her shoulder strap and turned to face him. “You don’t agree, do you?”
Wonders Never Cease (Harlequin Super Romance) Page 21
