Best Man With Benefits

by Samanthe Beck

  Her nervous symptoms advanced from sweaty palms to stomach cramps when they peeled off the main path and onto a smaller path toward the Wall. Then she saw it. Stretching straight up into the sky—high into the sky—stood one of those man-made rock walls. The kind people had to don special harnesses and helmets to attempt. He marched them right over to the ticket booth.

  She dug her heels in when he told the guy at the booth, “Two adults.”

  “Oh, no. No. No. I’ll watch.”

  The ticket guy glanced at Logan questioningly, but he merely shook his head, held up two fingers and handed the attendant his credit card. To her he said, “You have a wild side, remember? You don’t scare easily. You were the one who got the snake out of the shed. You were the first one to jump into the river from the oak tree.”

  “When I was a kid! It’s been years since I climbed an oak tree, or anything else, and the tree was not a thousand feet high.”

  Logan took his credit card, the receipt, and the tickets from the attendant, and then turned to her. The little groove beside his mouth appeared, and she felt her resolve weakening. “You’re nine hundred and eighty-five feet off in your estimate.” He read from the sign at the base of the wall, “The Beaver Creek Climbing Wall provides fifteen feet of safe and exciting climbing challenges.”

  She watched a boy who looked about ten, and clearly had the genes of a spider monkey, scramble up the wall. “It’s a broken leg waiting to happen.”

  “You’re safely roped to a state-of-the-art belay system, and I’ll be right beside you the entire time.” He leaned close, his face serious, and softly promised, “I won’t let you fall.”

  The words drifted over her skin, and all those hypersensitive nerve endings he’d awaked yesterday came tingling to attention. All she could do was stare helplessly into his fascinating gray-green eyes, but she must have made some conflicted sound, because he moved his lips to her ear and in a low voice added, “Trust me. Just like you did last night.”

  In her mind, New Sophie urged, For God’s sake, trust him!

  “I— ” Her dry throat choked on the words.

  The corner of his mouth kicked up into a grin and she heard the words as clearly as if he’d spoken aloud. I. Dare. You.

  Screw it, what was the worst that could happen? She’d slip, the belay line would fail, and she’d fall fifteen feet to land on her butt on the cushion of mats stacked at the base of the wall. She’d probably only spend a couple of months in traction.

  “Okay,” she heard herself say over the deafening sound of her blood pounding in her ears. Minutes later she found herself facing the wall, snapped into a harness and clipped to the belay line. She touched a nubby blue molded plastic handhold sticking out of the wall directly in front of her. “How do I…um…mount this thing?” Crap, that didn’t sound right.

  “Grab on to the highest handholds you can comfortably reach.” He demonstrated, grabbing two handholds that were ideally placed for him and might as well have been on the moon for her. “Then, using your right foot, get a toehold on an outcrop about knee high, figure out where your left foot is going to go—aim for a crag a few inches higher than the one supporting your right foot—and then…” He lifted himself onto the wall. Gracefully. Effortlessly. And all the spit in her mouth dried as she watched his calves go taut and his back muscles flex and bunch under his shirt.

  He hopped back down and raised an eyebrow. “Ready?”

  To climb you like a rock wall? Yes. To climb this thing? No. “As I’ll ever be.”

  “Great.” He guided her to the most appropriate handholds, and while she grabbed on to them like lifelines, he crouched behind her and instructed her where to put her right foot.

  “Perfect. Now, when you lift yourself up, put your left foot right here.” He tapped a purple block-shaped outcropping, and then stood so his chest brushed against her back.

  Something about Logan positioning her so she was stretched out on the wall, standing on her tiptoes with one leg raised and bent, sent her dirty mind into overdrive. She flashed to an image of them doing this naked, except the only thing about to be mounted was her, and Logan was poised behind her, ready to do the honors. Heat rushed to the unprotected place between her legs and she sincerely hoped her workout leggings were dark and absorbent enough to conceal her body’s reaction to him.

  “On three,” he said, and placed his hands at her waist. She closed her eyes and tried to banish the depraved sex fantasy before her bones dissolved and she had nothing left to support her.

  “One, two”—she tensed and prepared to channel Catwoman—“three.” Strong hands at her waist supported her as she pulled herself up onto the wall.

  “Good job. Now find your next handholds. Let your dominant side lead, go hand-hand-foot-foot, just like before, and pull yourself up the wall.”

  She did as he advised and climbed another foot. Then another. She ascended over halfway up the wall, without coaching, before her arms started to feel like overstretched Slinkys. Breathing hard, she stopped to rest while a group of preteens practically climbed right over her in their race to get to the top of the wall first.

  So much for those three sets of ten-pound curls every morning. The red rover crowd just kicked your butt.

  “How are you doing?”

  Logan’s voice broke into her musing and she nearly lost her footing as she whipped her head around to find him casually hanging on the wall right beside her.

  “Fine,” she huffed, ridiculously annoyed to note he wasn’t sweaty and his breath wasn’t the least bit labored.

  “If your arms get tired, you can let go of the wall. Your harness will support you.” He demonstrated, bracing his feet, wrapping one hand around the belay line, just above the clip, and easily leaning back into the harness.

  Her arms wept for a reprieve. She let go of the wall, but neglected to hold the belay line. Immediately, she tipped to the side, which threatened her footholds. A squeak escaped her throat and for a panicked second she pictured herself dangling like a spider in a windstorm, swinging helplessly, unable to get back to the wall. Then Logan calmly reached out, caught her line, and steadied her. She grabbed a handful of his shirt, accidentally digging her fingers into his side.

  “You can, you know,” he said softly.

  The sun shone down on them. The calls and coaching among other climbers faded into an indistinct soundtrack.

  “Can what?”

  He waited to respond until she looked up and met his patient gaze. “Hold on to me.”

  There went her heart again, racing away like a hyperactive terrier slipped free of its leash.

  “I—”

  “Why’d you leave this morning?” There was no acrimony in his voice, just curiosity and a note of something that sounded a lot like disappointment.

  She stared at the rock wall and blinked. “I don’t know. I was lying there in the dark realizing I didn’t have the first clue what I would say to you when you woke up. I don’t have any clever, sexy morning-after banter, and I’d probably just make things awkward, so…I left.”

  “You’re clever and sexy without saying a word.”

  She snorted before she could stop herself. “No, I’m not. I’m so not.” Yeah, that right there? Not clever or sexy.

  “Am I going to have to prove this to you? After yesterday, I think we both know I can.”

  Heat seared her cheeks as she remembered watching her reflection in the mirror yesterday while he’d turned her body into an instrument of pleasure. Unfortunately, one amazing afternoon didn’t negate a lifetime of insecurities. And they were her insecurities, dang it. She might have to live with them but she sure as heck didn’t have to take them out and pass them around for his inspection.

  She opened her mouth to tell him so, but frustration had something much more raw and painful spilling out. “Have you ever, even once in your whole, charmed, perfect life, wished to be invisible, because if you weren’t invisible, you were a walking joke—a target for ot
her peoples’ insensitivity or flat-out meanness?” To her mortification, her voice rose precariously and her eyes started to burn. “You’ve had it so…effing…easy. Do you know what it’s like to stand there like an idiot while your ninth-grade gym teacher—your male gym teacher—says in front of the whole class that you ought to get a sports bra so you can, and I quote, ‘keep your chest under control’? Oh, and by the way, you’re already wearing two sports bras at your mother’s insistence. Do you know what it’s like to have Jeremy Needleman and his band of fools hum that godforsaken “Baby Got Back” song every time your algebra teacher calls you to the blackboard to solve an equation, and then to eventually realize her solution is to not call on you anymore? Of course you don’t, Mr. Popular. Believe me, it doesn’t make you feel clever or sexy. It makes you feel like a freak. It makes you wish you could disappear.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t disappear,” he said quietly, and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Did you tell Colt? I can’t believe he didn’t teach a few people the meaning of the term ‘harassment.’”

  She puffed out a breath and consciously relaxed her stiff shoulders. “Colt and I are eight years apart,” she reminded him. Thankfully, her voice sounded reasonably normal. “He was long gone by the time I went to high school, and I doubt the army would have given him a pass to come home and deal with sleazy Jeremy Needleman for me.”

  “Want me to hunt Needleman down and stomp on his balls for you? I’m happy to do it.”

  An image of tall, imposing Logan confronting skinny, freckle-faced, and completely unsuspecting Jeremy—who probably didn’t look anything like that anymore—made her smile. “Thanks, but no. Wherever he is today, I like to think he’s already sorry for being such a jerk in school.”

  “With a name like Needleman, I guarantee he’s sorry. I’m sorry you had to put up with little pricks like him, and assholes like your gym teacher, and do-nothings like your algebra teacher. And you’re right. I don’t know what it’s like to endure that kind of treatment. Not because I’m some kind of Mr. Perfect and nobody’s ever fucked with me, but I was always surrounded by my brothers, Trevor and Michael. Always,” he repeated and raised his eyes heavenward. “Whether I wanted them around or not. Throw shit at one of us, get it back from all three. Consequently, I never had to put up with more than a normal amount of shit. But I don’t need to have experienced the shit you went through to understand it left scars.”

  “Thank you for understanding.” Too bad now that he understood, he had to realize what a broken wing she was.

  “The thing is, Sophie, you’re not the same girl you were in high school. You’re so far beyond that girl the rest of us can’t even see her. We see a clever, sexy woman. A woman I would have appreciated waking up next to, after everything we shared last night. Oh, and just for future reference, I don’t expect a stand-up routine first thing in the morning.”

  With that, he resumed climbing the last few feet to the top.

  Wait…what? Future reference? Did he really say future reference? She huffed and puffed after him. “Just for…future reference…what do you expect?”

  “This may come as a shock, but when I let a clever, sexy woman show me the proper use for my favorite tie, about the only expectation I have is that she not sneak off in the middle of the night. Other than that, I’m wide open. With me, you can do anything you want, and say anything you want. Or you can say nothing, because while I’m a big fan of bold, aggressive Sophie, I like your quiet side, too. I could use more reflection in my life these days.”

  He looked at her then, and must have read something dubious in her expression, because he reached down, took her hand, and hauled her up next to him. Only after she’d caught her breath did she dare glance around, and realize he’d lifted her the last couple feet to the summit. She took in the panoramic view of the mountain, the sky—she swallowed loudly—the tiny, ant-like people wandering the path far, far below.

  “You look like you’re about to tip your head back and yell, ‘I’m king of the world,’ at the top of your lungs.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “Nope. Not going to happen. I’m the quiet girl, remember?”

  “I remember you making some not-so-quiet sounds last night.”

  Do not blush. Don’t. But it was no use. Heat climbed into her cheeks.

  “Sorry. I couldn’t resist.” But he didn’t look repentant. He looked cocky and happy. “Do you know why I love climbing?”

  “Because you have a death wish?”

  The comment earned her a grin and a head shake. “It’s a chance to escape all the demands on my time. I can shed the guy-in-charge image and relax. Reach a place where all the bullshit disappears.” He leaned back in his harness, looking completely at home fifteen feet up, and stared off into the distance. “I feel the same way when I’m with you.”

  “Spending time with me is relaxing? I think you may be confusing ‘relaxing’ and ‘boring.’”

  “I’m not confusing anything. Who else would take a moonlight sprinkler run with me? Who else would climb a rock wall with me?”

  “Not Regan.” As soon as she said the words she wanted to hurl herself over the other side of the wall and disappear.

  But he simply wrinkled his brow. “No. Probably not. The footwear alone would be a showstopper.” He lowered his voice. “Who else would discipline me when I get out of line?”

  Her face heated. Regan would. This time, thank God, she managed to keep the thought in her head rather than letting it spew out her mouth. “You, ah…liked that, did you?”

  “I’m not ready to embrace the lifestyle, but with you, last night, I definitely got into it. The whole thing was surprisingly stimulating, and…fun. Somewhere along the line I let all the fun leak out of my life. I miss it,” he added softly, as if to himself. “So thank you for that.”

  Then he glanced at her and tightened his hold on her hand, tugging her toward him. When he had her close enough that she could see the striations in his irises, he kissed her, and her heart did some kind of crazy aerial maneuver that had nothing to do with her current altitude. “I feel like I can be myself when we’re together,” he said, “and I’m trying to tell you, you can be yourself, too.”

  Herself? Plain old Sophie, who was putting all this energy and effort into becoming someone more outgoing and interesting? Heck, maybe they weren’t complete opposites. He craved peace and quiet sometimes. She appreciated excitement and adventure…sometimes.

  As long as you remember you’re both just fooling around, maybe you can share both for a little while.

  Chapter Nine

  It wasn’t graceful, but Sophie made it down the wall in one piece, without taking out any innocent bystanders in the process. She’d lost her hold on the belay line toward the end and started to rappel too fast. Luckily, Logan was there to catch her.

  While she debated giving in to her wobbling knees, sinking down, and kissing the ground, a resort employee made a beeline toward Logan and handed him a message. He quickly scanned the small pink sheet, and then frowned and sent her an apologetic look. “Apparently my playtime’s over. I’ve got to join a call.”

  A wave of something like disappointment rose up, but she tamped it down. Any time with Logan was borrowed time and she’d best remember that. Wanting to hang out with him was one thing. Allowing herself to need him was another thing entirely. “No problem.” She let him help her out of the harness and then handed it to an attendant. “You go ahead. I’m going to check out the shops on the way back. Maybe find a little memento for Colt and Kady.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you later.” He leaned down and gave her another of his patented, Lycra-melting kisses, and pulled away far too soon. “Save a dance for me,” he said and then took off jogging toward the resort in a loose, easy gait that would have left her in the dust.

  Save a dance? Oh, right. Dance lessons were on tonight’s agenda. She cringed as she walked through the faux Alpine village full of resort shops. Normally she avoid
ed dancing in public the same way she avoided public speaking, but heck, if she could scale a rock wall, she could handle a two-step, couldn’t she?

  Her gaze snagged on a flash of crimson in a shop window. A slinky dress with a neckline that plunged low and a flirty skirt that ended mid-thigh. Open-toed red lace stilettos completed the ensemble. The outfit whispered, “Give me a twirl,” and a whole lot more.

  Show up in that and nobody’s going to notice your dancing skills.

  Did she dare?

  “Amazing dress, Sophie. You should try it on.”

  Sophie whirled and came face-to-face with Kady. “Oh, hey.” She glanced around, unaccountably nervous that her brother might be nearby and, somehow, reading her mind. “What are you up to?”

  Kady wiggled her fingers. “I’m on my way to get a mani-pedi, but I’m way early.” She grabbed Sophie’s hand and pulled her into the shop. “I’ve got plenty of time to help you decide whether to say yes to the dress.”

  “I was just window-shopping. I’m not in the market for a new dress.”

  “Please. A girl is always in the market for a perfect red dress, and the dance lesson tonight is reason enough, if you really need an excuse.”

  When a pretty blond saleswoman approached, Kady said, “Do you have the dress in the window in…what do you wear now, Soph? 8P?”

  “We do,” the saleswoman answered, before Sophie could do more than nod. “Let me get you set up in a fitting room and I’ll bring the dress to you.”

  “Thanks,” Kady said as they made their way to the back of the shop. “The shoes, too. Seven and a half.” She settled herself into one of the two dainty Queen Anne style chairs just outside the fitting rooms.

  “Of course,” the saleslady replied. She unlocked a room and gestured Sophie inside. “Be right back.”