by VK Powell
“What if I want it to be…your business?”
“Bennett, don’t.”
“I’m being honest.” The anxiety Bennett had nursed on the drive evaporated, and she let out a long sigh. “Do I even want to know Jen’s definition of everything? What did she say?”
“She clarified some things.”
Bennett’s stomach curled into an uncomfortable jumble of nerves. She took a deep breath and pressed on. “Good, because I want to date you. Only you.”
Kerstin’s head snapped back as if she’d been struck. “What?”
“I apologize for the unromantic delivery, but those are my intentions. I’d like us to go out, get to know each other again, see if we have a future. And I’m not asking because we…you know…had sex. It’s not really about sex, though it was pretty intense…I mean…good intense, but still not totally about sex. I better stop talking.” She stopped breathing too and just waited.
Kerstin released the grasp on her robe and stepped back, the light dimming in her eyes. “One of the things I’ve always adored about you is your honesty. But I can’t.”
Bennett finally took a breath and straightened until the muscles under her skin pulled against the stitches on her right side, creating enough discomfort to distract her from the pain of Kerstin’s response. “Oh. Do you maybe want to think about it a little?”
Kerstin just stared, conflict swirling in her blue eyes, but she didn’t answer immediately. Bennett took the opening. “I know this is sudden, but I’d like to show you who I am now and find out about you. We could take it slow.”
“I really can’t, Ben.”
I can’t wasn’t no, but without further explanation, it felt like no when she stood in front of the woman she loved with her heart in her hands. “I see.”
“Let me explain.”
“No need.” She had to get out of this room. The walls closed in, smothering her. No matter Kerstin’s excuse—her mother, career, the substation project, their socioeconomic differences, or the simple fact she wasn’t serious about Bennett—nothing could mitigate her deep disappointment. She should’ve expected rejection. Maybe it was time to admit the only real relationship she and Kerstin had was work. “Do you still need to talk about the project?”
“It can wait.”
Kerstin reached for her, but Bennett backed away, unable to bear the pitying look in her eyes. “Let’s do it now,” Bennett managed to say.
“I can meet you downstairs in fifteen minutes?”
Bennett nodded and let herself out.
* * *
Kerstin pressed her palms against the door and bowed her head, the last five minutes playing over and over in her mind. Her body still tingled from Bennett’s nearness and the desire to have her again. Her terry-cloth robe rubbed and aroused places where she craved Bennett’s touch. She’d arrived with an obvious agenda, and Kerstin should’ve pulled her into the bedroom and quieted her before those words spilled out. But once released, the weight of their expectations overpowered her physical longing.
“I want to date you. Only you.”
The moment was inevitable, but she wasn’t prepared for Bennett’s candid expression of interest. Kerstin had certainly imagined it, even encouraged it in her own warped way, but not prepared for it. The minute she moved their relationship in a sexual direction, she’d offered hope for more. Bennett’s expectation was obvious in those brown eyes from the first day, and in everything she did after—talking about the past, dinner with the family, fiery glances, inadvertent touches, and her total sexual surrender. Kerstin planned for every possible contingency in her work but avoided the personal.
She pushed away from the door and walked slowly to the bathroom. While showering, she tried to erase the hurt she’d seen in Bennett’s eyes, but it persisted. She toweled off and reached for her mascara brush, but her hand shook so badly she lowered it again. Tears ran down her cheeks, and she roughly brushed at them. Reaching into the closet, she pulled out the first thing she found—a pair of faded jeans and a black, button-front blouse. She dressed perfunctorily, focused on keeping her composure when she saw Bennett again. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, one question churning through her mind. “Why did you say no?”
Bennett’s honesty and optimism had nearly undone her. And she offered Kerstin the closest thing to a commitment possible, considering their circumstances. But Kerstin was—she’d never said the words aloud. “I’m deathly afraid of intimacy.” She wanted what Bennett offered more than she cared to admit, but more involvement equaled potential pain. The circuitous conflict swirled round and round with only one possible conclusion. Focus on business. No possibility of intimacy.
After grabbing her tote, she trudged down the hallway toward the elevator, rolling her shoulders to relieve the tension that had started the minute she refused Bennett. Could she sit across from the woman she desperately wanted but couldn’t have and carry on a normal business conversation? She was about to find out.
She entered Print Works Bistro and scanned the room, spotting Bennett’s red cashmere sweater she’d wanted to rip off her earlier. The garment outlined her broad shoulders, clung to her compact breasts, and skimmed the muscles of her rib cage before brushing the waistband of her low-cut jeans. The tug of something strong, almost primal gripped her, and she faltered. Her self-discipline, usually free of emotions, always turned shaky around Bennett.
Bennett stood and held out her chair, her expression bland, impassive, but her eyes told the truth. Buried in their depths Kerstin saw plainly the hurt and rejection she’d caused only minutes earlier.
“I’ve ordered coffee. Wasn’t sure what else you might like. Are you okay?”
“Am I okay?” Bennett was the one who’d been so callously rejected, yet she was still concerned about Kerstin. “I’m fine. You?”
“Hard to argue with the truth. You were honest. Really all I can ask. Let’s not make things awkward. We still have work problems, if the look on your face is any indication.”
As Bennett started back to her chair, a young child ran screaming past their table. He nearly knocked a waiter over, creating a chain reaction. The waiter stumbled sideways, dropped a tray of drinks on another guest, lurched backward, and jammed his elbow into Bennett’s right side. She winced, closed her eyes momentarily, and paled as she pulled for breath.
“Watch what you’re doing.” Kerstin rose from her chair, her tone sharp.
The young waiter, trying desperately to placate the drenched diner, turned toward them. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. Please forgive me.”
“It’s okay,” Bennett said to the waiter, gracious in spite of her obvious pain.
“It most certainly is not okay.” Kerstin started to say more, but Bennett’s hand on her arm stopped her.
“I’m fine, Kerst.”
“You’re hurt, again.”
“It was an accident. No harm done, really. Sit.”
Bennett coaxed her back to her seat as the waiter cleaned up the mess and hurried away. “Should you even be here?”
Bennett’s smile erased any hint of discomfort. “I have to be somewhere. I was going stir-crazy at home. I sort of bribed Dylan into giving me a doctor’s release.”
Kerstin finally relaxed, watching Bennett’s face light up at the mention of her sister. “She can’t deny you anything.”
“And vice versa.”
“What did you barter?” Kerstin was procrastinating, but hearing Bennett talk so lovingly about her baby sister was relaxing in a way she didn’t entirely understand. “Or can you say?”
“She wants to move out.” She rolled her cup in her hands and swallowed hard.
“That was difficult for you, wasn’t it?”
Bennett nodded.
“She’s a young woman, Ben. An intelligent, accomplished, independent woman like the rest of the Carlyle women, and she probably wants to prove herself without the family’s help. I’m sure you understand. Making your own way is hard if you’re th
e baby…or only child.”
“Exactly what she said. She asked me to talk to the family, let them know she’s serious. The children in our family always stay at, or at least near, home until we meet the right person, and then we move down the street to another family property, always close.”
She placed her hand over Bennett’s but immediately withdrew it, the gesture too intimate and evocative in public. “I’m sure they’ll understand. After all, your parents raised all of their children to think for themselves and to become their own person.”
Bennett stared out the windows facing the sparsely wooded creek bed, a faraway look in her eyes.
“Bennett, are you okay?”
“I wonder if the cottage would be enough distance for her.”
“Your place?”
“Yeah. I moved out back while I was dating someone…special. We’d planned to relocate to a house the following spring. I’d have to talk with Jazz because she’s up for the cottage next.”
Kerstin’s stomach roiled, imagining Bennett with another woman, setting up house with her, permanently. She fought down a foul taste, struggling not to ask, but having to know. “What happened, with your special someone?”
“She had an opportunity for a once-in-a-lifetime job overseas and accepted without even discussing it with me. I would’ve supported her no matter what, but she didn’t want the challenges of a long-distance relationship starting out.”
The next question hung in Kerstin’s throat, but she forced it out. “Do you…are you still in…love with her?”
Bennett waited until Kerstin looked at her and then delivered her answer. “No.”
Kerstin controlled the relieved breath escaping her lips. “That’s good…I mean…okay then. Should we order breakfast or get straight to work?”
“Whatever you want.” Bennett’s eyes sparkled, and her sexy lips quirked into a smile.
They shifted easily from emotionally charged conversations to business and back again, thanks to Bennett’s capacity for empathy and vulnerability. Without having Bennett’s courage, Kerstin automatically retreated to the shallows of business.
“I’m not really hungry, but feel free to order if you want.” She pushed her coffee cup aside, pulled the project cost assessments from her bag, and placed them on the table between them. “I don’t have good news. The changes we agreed on will run over budget, considerably over. You should probably inform the chief, since we have a full committee meeting in a few days. I don’t want to ambush him or the manager.”
“Anything specific cause the overages?”
“If you recall, we divided several open spaces into rooms, which require walls, which cost more. The security doors, bullet-resistant glass, the specialized outdoor lettering and lighting, and landscaping are expensive.”
“What specialized lettering and lighting and landscaping?”
“Those items fall under form, not function. How the building appears from the outside says as much about the architect and the occupant as the inside.”
“I don’t care about the outside. We can cut all that as far as I’m concerned.”
Kerstin straightened in her chair. “No, we can’t.”
“Why? Because it won’t be pretty enough for your portfolio?”
The question sounded like an attack. “My portfolio has nothing to do with it.” Was she being honest with Bennett, with herself? “Both of our names will be associated with Fairview Station. Don’t you want the building to be attractive and functional?”
“All I care about is a workable space for my officers. Don’t start pulling punches with me now. What’s so important about a few bushes and a sign?”
Kerstin rolled her first drafting pen between her fingers, staring at the figures on the page. “The exterior of the facility represents my style, integrity, and work ethic as much so as the interior, and I won’t allow either to be compromised. I started the project with someone else’s design, an inferior design in my opinion, but I’ve tried to make it my own as well as what you wanted.” Her eyes burned with tears as the heartfelt sentiment tumbled out. Damn it. Her emotions were all over the place with this woman. She had to hold it together a few more weeks, and then she could…what—go back to New York to a mother who didn’t really need her anymore?
“Kerstin, did you hear me?”
“Sorry. What?”
“Why don’t we go over your figures and the drawings one more time and see where we can cut costs? I’m willing to concede a few items so you can have your pretty exterior.” She tapped Kerstin’s foot under the table and smiled. “Sound fair?”
Kerstin nodded. “When do we start?”
“How about right now?” She stood quickly and nearly doubled over, a grimace etched across her face.
“What’s wrong?” She scanned Bennett’s body and stopped on a large patch of deep scarlet on the right side of her red sweater. “Oh my god, Ben. You’re bleeding.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Don’t cut my sweater. It’s one of my favorites,” Bennett said.
Dylan just stared at her with an expression that was all business. “This is the thanks I get for letting you go back to work, and you didn’t even make it to the office.” She gingerly slipped the sweater over Bennett’s head, and Kerstin stepped back as far as possible from the ER gurney. The white bandage on her side was soaked in blood, and Kerstin almost lost her coffee. Hospitals made her uneasy enough, but the crimson color and coppery smell of blood set her stomach tumbling.
“Damn it. I shouldn’t have let you out of the house so soon.” Dylan removed the bandage from Bennett’s side and inspected the injury. “You’ve popped a couple of stitches. What have you two been doing?” She glanced from Bennett to Kerstin suspiciously.
“Having breakfast.” Bennett smiled.
Kerstin replayed the incident at the restaurant and became more agitated with each word. “But you know your sister.”
“Pretended she was fine?” Dylan accepted a needle from the nurse and pointed it at Bennett’s side.
Kerstin suddenly found a copy of People magazine totally irresistible.
“You can wait outside if you want,” Bennett said.
The sick feeling in her stomach wasn’t enough to drive her from Bennett’s bedside. She wanted to be with her here, at the hotel, her cottage, or the substation, wherever. She grabbed the back of a nearby chair, her thoughts unexpected and sobering. Earlier she’d declined a simple dating offer, and now she wouldn’t leave Bennett’s side? This back-and-forth, wishy-washy, ambivalent inability to decide was exactly the reason she didn’t do emotions.
“Maybe you should step out,” Dylan said. “Now you’re pale, and I can’t handle two patients at once. I’ll call you when I’m finished.”
Kerstin shook her head and finally spoke. “I’m…fine…staying.” She settled into the chair. When had her feelings for Bennett become so intense? She didn’t want to be around any other woman constantly after sex. Quite the opposite. Maybe her mother’s recent good news had flipped a switch allowing her to think and feel more optimistically about the future. Bennett Carlyle and the future—the two seemed incongruous.
After several minutes of intense concentration, Dylan stepped away from the gurney. “Well, that should hold until your next round, but I’m afraid this sweater is done for. I have a sweatshirt in my locker you can wear until you get home.”
“I’m not going home, yet. Kerstin and I have work that can’t wait.”
“Oh, yes, it can,” Kerstin said as she rose and moved toward Ben. “It can wait as long as necessary. Your health comes first. Listen to your sister, the doctor.” She smiled at Dylan, who gave her an appreciative nod.
“What happened this morning was a freakish accident. We’ll be in a hotel room going over numbers. How dangerous can that be?”
Kerstin shrugged. “She’s right about the low activity.”
“If you two promise nothing physical.” Dylan placed her hand on Kerstin’s a
rm. “I’m putting you in charge.”
Kerstin’s face grew hot as she picked up her bag. “I’ll do my best.”
“Wait here, and I’ll get the sweatshirt.” Dylan and the nurse left the examining bay, and she turned to Bennett.
“Are you sure about this? We can wait a couple of days to work over the budget.”
“I’m sure. We’ve had too many delays already. Besides, I’ll sit in a chair and watch you work. How hard can it be? And maybe later we’ll order room service, on the company.”
“Bennett—”
“Don’t worry, just business, but you know me and food. As long as you promise to feed me at some point, I’m good.”
“Promise.” Jeez, thirty seconds ago she wanted to be with Bennett all the time, and now she’d brought up the professional boundary again. She made herself dizzy. How could Bennett possibly know what to expect?
“Here you go.” Dylan offered her shirt to Bennett.
“Pink? Really?”
“It’s a spare. Beggars can’t be choosers.” Bennett reached for the sweatshirt, but Dylan held it for a second. “One more thing. If you breathe a word about this to the family, I’m a dead woman. Understand?”
“Totally, sis. I got your back.”
Dylan, her brown eyes so much like Bennett’s it was disconcerting, looked to Kerstin for agreement. “I’m certainly not going to tell.”
A few minutes later, with Bennett squeezed into Dylan’s small pink sweatshirt, they were back at the Proximity with the design drawings and cost sheets spread across the bed. “Okay, Captain, start cutting.”
Bennett eased her roller chair to the side of the bed and took the pages Kerstin offered. Her brown eyes shifted between the numbers and the plans, an adorable look of concentration on her face. She occasionally worried her bottom lip between her teeth or raked her fingers unconsciously through her short, gray-streaked hair. The simple things she noticed about Bennett, but not with anyone else, stirred her feelings again. She wanted to claim her full lips, to kiss her deeply until she begged for breath. Maybe working in her hotel room, on her bed, had been a bad decision.
