by Noelle Adams
One had died in a tragic car accident.
And there was one more. The youngest. Who’d dropped off the radar several years ago.
Benjamin Damon.
Her Ben.
The succession of realizations and memories and deductions slammed into Mandy, one after the next. She clung to the window frame in the breakfast room and tried to fight a wave of dizziness.
Ben was a Damon. One of the Damons. Heir to billions of dollars.
And he’d lied to her. Over and over again. Not just about the way his brother died, which was a little lie she’d been able to get over. But from the first day they’d met until today. Until now. In spite of everything she’d thought they meant to each other, he’d done nothing but lie to her.
He wasn’t just a sweet, grumpy slob of a guy. No wonder Deanna’s grandmamma would be trying to match her granddaughters with him. He would always be the most eligible bachelor in any room he walked into.
Maybe that was why he hadn’t told her the truth. He knew she’d been looking for a good husband. Maybe he thought she would come after him, if she knew who he really was.
It was so upsetting and so hurtful that Mandy literally couldn’t take a full breath. She’d trusted him, but he obviously didn’t trust her.
She didn’t expect anything from people except honesty and a few gestures of goodwill.
But Ben had been right from the beginning. Even that was too much to expect.
Ben had done nothing but lie to her.
“Mandy?” a voice came from the doorway. Ben’s voice. Benjamin Damon’s voice. “Are you ready?”
She wasn’t ready. To face him. To talk to him. To admit how much he’d crushed her with the lies. She wasn’t ready for any of this. “Yeah,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “Did you get things settled with the electrician?”
“Yes.” His eyes searched her face as she walked toward him. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“You look…strange. And kind of pale.”
And that hurt even more, that he sounded genuinely concerned, like he cared about her, like they were really friends.
When they weren’t.
“Just still a little sore,” she said with a smile, walking past him to the hallway.
She didn’t look back.
If he could carry on this pretense of friendship, then so could she.
If he refused to be honest with her, then she wasn’t about to be honest with him.
***
Ben was getting increasingly concerned about Mandy and increasingly frustrated that she wouldn’t tell him what was the matter.
He knew something was wrong. She would barely look him in the eye as they drove to the high-end, home-improvement store. She spoke whenever he said something to her, but she didn’t initiate conversation.
And she didn’t smile. She didn’t tease him. She didn’t give him any soft, fond looks.
It was wrong. Something was seriously bothering her. And she wouldn’t tell him what it was.
They’d been sitting in silence for eight minutes as he drove them in his mother’s car through quaint streets, historic neighborhoods, and out toward the commercial suburbs. She was staring out the passenger side window. Her hair was pulled back so he could see her whole profile—classic nose, strong chin, sensual lips, high cheekbones.
Without glancing over at him, she said, “You’ll probably do a better job driving if you look at the road and not at me.”
The cool comment was the last straw. He burst out, “Are you upset about the other night?”
At least now she turned her head to look at him. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re upset about something. I want to know what it is. Are you upset about the other night? I thought we settled it. I thought we were okay.”
“We are okay.”
He scanned her face closely and saw it was still closed off. “Because if you’re upset about it, then we need to talk about it. I thought you agreed that we should just stay friends.”
“I did agree. I don’t think we should be anything more than friends.” Her eyes rolled slightly with what looked like impatience. “Believe it or not, you’re not so earth-shattering a lover that I’m sitting here swooning over you.”
He groaned with a surge of frustration. “Then what the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Nothing is wrong. I’ve told you now about nine times, and I’m getting a little tired of repeating it. I don’t feel like talking at the moment. Can’t you accept that and just leave me alone for a few minutes?”
“Why don’t you feel like talking? You always feel like talking.”
“From a man who likes to sit and brood more than anyone I’ve ever met, that’s a pretty ridiculous question. Use your sense of empathy, assuming you possess such a thing. Think about why sometimes you don’t feel like talking to people, and then imagine I might occasionally feel something similar. Then grant me the basic courtesy of keeping to myself for a few minutes.”
He groaned again, although her words effectively silenced him. He could hardly counter her sentiment without acting like a selfish jerk.
When he didn’t feel like talking, it was usually because he was tired or angry or stewing over long-standing bitterness.
But Mandy didn’t pull away from him when she was tired. And when she’d been angry before, she’d always let him have it. And she was least bitter person he’d ever met in his life.
He’d never known her to pull away like this. It was proof that something was seriously wrong. But, if it was the sex, then why had her mood so abruptly changed just before they’d left?
She’d been sweet and affectionate and funny when he’d run into her in the bathroom this morning.
She’d also been so irresistibly feminine in her little pajamas that he’d been hard pressed not to climb into bed with her and bring them both to heights of intense pleasure again.
He definitely couldn’t be thinking about that, though. Right now, the only important thing was why she was so upset.
“Did someone say something to you?” he asked, trying to think of what might have happened between breakfast and the time they left the house. “Did someone hurt your feelings somehow?” He bristled at the thought of anyone trampling all over Mandy’s sweet spirit.
She made a sound he’d never heard from her before. It sounded almost like a growl. She’d turned back to stare out the window, and her shoulders were very stiff.
“Did someone say something—”
“No! Will you please just shut up for now? Please?” The last word was an obvious plea, and she turned even farther away from him, wrapping her arms around herself.
He swallowed over his immediate objection. Someone had definitely hurt her. She wouldn’t be acting this way if she hadn’t been hurt. She was like a wounded animal, retreating inside herself.
He suddenly felt a lump of anxiety rising in his throat. Surely a stranger wouldn’t have said something to hurt her so much—not in the half-hour he was with the electrician. His mother was shopping with a friend this morning, so she couldn’t have said anything.
What if Mandy had been hurt in another way? There were workmen all over the property today.
He broke out into a cold sweat as he started picturing scenarios. She was beautiful and would have been vulnerable, all by herself while he was distracted with the damned electrician.
His breath started coming out in pants as waves of fear and rage slammed into it. She didn’t look hurt, but that didn’t mean…
His eyes darkened suddenly, and he veered into the first parking lot he passed—some sort of uppity pre-school.
Mandy jumped and let out a little squeak as he jerked the car to a stop and slammed it into park. “What are you doing?” she gasped.
He reached out to take her shoulders and turn her around in the seat to face him. “Did someone hurt you, Mandy? You have to tell me. Right now.”
She stared at him, her eyes
wide and her cheeks flushed.
“Did someone hur—”
“No!” she choked out. “What the hell has gotten into you?”
“You’re not telling me the truth. Someone hurt you, and I want to know what happened and who it was.” As soon as he heard who it was, he was going to find them and strangle them with his bare hands.
Her expression changed slightly, as if she realized what he was thinking. “For God’s sake, Ben. Stop being melodramatic. Nobody hur—” This time, her voice broke before she could finish the word. Her eyes dropped.
He raised her head so he could see her face clearly. “Someone did hurt you.”
“It’s not like what you’re thinking.” Her tone was quiet now, almost resigned. She wouldn’t look him in the eyes.
“Then tell me what it is.”
She opened her mouth, and he thought she was going to tell him. He was sure she was going to tell him.
Then she closed her lips and turned her eyes to the side.
“Damn it,” he gritted out.
“I don’t have anything to tell you right now, Ben, and all your macho bristling isn’t going to change that. You’re going to have to accept that, or you’re going to turn around and take me back to the house.”
He let out an exasperated sound when he realized she wasn’t going to budge. But at least she’d made it clear that someone hadn’t hurt her physically. At least that nightmare wasn’t still lurking in his mind.
If Mandy pulled away from him, it would be a different kind of nightmare. And it wasn’t one he would ever be able to accept.
***
They worked with a salesperson at the store for more than an hour, picking out paint and arguing about wallpaper.
They’d finally agreed on all the rooms except the front parlor, and Ben was about to accept anything just to be done with the shopping expedition.
Mandy was acting more normal now, but she wouldn’t smile at him or give him those little looks that proved she liked him.
It was making him crazy—that something significant was going on with her and he was left out of the loop.
He didn’t want to be out of the loop on anything that involved Mandy. Ever. Whether or not he could ever have her for his own, he needed to know what was going on with her. He needed to make sure she was always all right.
“Stop pacing,” she muttered, flipping through wallpaper swatches. “You’re driving me crazy with all that fidgeting.”
He had to bite off an immediate rejoinder that said something about how it was her fault he felt this way because she wouldn’t tell him what was going on. She’d made it quite clear she wasn’t going to tell him anything right now, and he wasn’t about to have that kind of argument in public anyway.
“Just pick out anything. I don’t care anymore.” He’d looked at paint colors and wallpaper samples and tile blocks until his head was about to explode. He didn’t care at this point if Mandy wallpapered his mother’s house in purple peonies. He just wanted it to be over.
“It’s your mother’s house. You should care a little.” Mandy wasn’t looking at him, but her voice was cool, and her chin was sticking out a little more than normal. She was obviously annoyed with him.
“Well, you insist on disagreeing with everything I happen to say.”
“That’s because you want to paint the entire house in beige. It’s a beautiful historic house. It should look like what it is.”
“So fine. Pick out beautiful historic wallpaper. Just find something.” His tone was grumpier than usual because he was so uptight over not knowing what was going on with her.
She shot him an annoyed look—which might be an improvement since she was actually looking at him—but then set her face with an expression of long-suffering patience and kept flipping through the swatches. “I’m trying to decide between these two,” she murmured.
She was speaking to the salesperson—a helpful, middle-aged man—and Ben was obviously not invited to give his opinion on the choices.
“They’re both beautiful and period appropriate. I actually have another one you might like—this same color but with this lovely texture.”
Ben groaned as the man went to the back to find the one he wanted to show her.
“You’re acting like a child,” she said sharply. “Just go sit in the car if you’re going to act this way.”
“I’m not going to sit in the car. You might never get out of this store.” He knew he wasn’t behaving well, but he was so frustrated with everything he couldn’t seem to stop himself.
“I haven’t taken that long, considering everything we needed to pick out. Don’t act like I’m being unreasonably nitpicky about choosing.”
She’d met his eyes for real, which was almost a relief, even if hers were flashing with anger.
He felt an answering anger rising in him to match hers—prompted more by the fact that she was keeping secrets from him than from the length of time she’d taken to pick out wall coverings. “We could have found perfectly good paint for every room in about fifteen minutes—and none of them would be beige.”
“You’re not even the one who lives in the house. You could spare a thought for your mom and want her to have the nicest place possible.”
“I do want her to live in a nice place. I nice place can have simple paint on the walls.”
“That doesn’t excuse the kind of apathy you’re showing. If you really care about people, then you should want to do the best for them. Not give some half-hearted effort that doesn’t cause you to exert yourself in even the slightest of ways.”
When she’d snapped the last words out, she sucked in a strange, little breath and turned her head to the side, pulling back in whatever she was feeling.
Ben burned with outrage. She’d just totally laid him out, as if he were a lazy, selfish ass—and then she’d reined it back in with whatever secrets she was keeping with him. “Damn it,” he began, the words low and hoarse. “What the—”
“Here it is,” the salesman said cheerily, returning with a swatch in his hands. He was smiling and looked completely oblivious of the tense scene he’d just interrupted.
Mandy was flushed and stiff, but she gave the man an artificial smile—a good attempt that would have been convincing had Ben not known her so well. “Great. Let’s see it.”
Ben clenched his hand and stood still, trying to contain his uncontrolled feelings.
He hadn’t felt like this in years, like he was helpless in the face of his feelings. He’d lived intentionally for a long time so his emotions couldn’t buffet him this way.
And Mandy was the one who was stirring all of it up, throwing the life he’d made for himself into turmoil.
“Oh, I really like this one. It’s perfect.” She was smiling at the salesman, as if Ben wasn’t even in the room.
“I thought you’d like it. It has the advantages of both of those others. I’m not sure why I didn’t think of it before.”
“I think we should go with this one—just on the wall with the fireplace. We’ll do the paint on the other walls.”
He heard the words, but he was still trying to pull himself together.
“Ben?” Mandy poked him in the arm. “Is this one okay?”
“Yeah,” he said, without even looking at it. “It’s fine.”
“Okay.”
He sensed a strange look coming from her, but he was too distracted to label it. He heard her talking to the salesman about how much they’d need, and then he felt a hand on his back, pushing him toward the cashier.
“You need to pay for it now,” she said. “Have you gone into some sort of trance?”
“No.” He shook himself off and stepped over, pulling his wallet out as he did. He watched the items they’d ordered add up and the amount of money getting larger and larger, vaguely astounded at the final total.
“That’s what it costs,” Mandy murmured, obviously seeing something on his face. “We weren’t extravagant.”
�
�Not at all,” the salesman said. “You got an impressive amount for the price. I have people come in and do one room for this same amount.”
Ben passed over his credit card, shaking his head. He hated to think of how much it was going to cost when they started to buy furnishings.
He happened to glance down at the top wallpaper swatch, the last one Mandy had picked up. He frowned and picked it up. It was a deep cream color. “What is this?”
“It’s wallpaper. What do you think it is?”
“But it’s solid. Why are we going to mess with wallpaper if it’s a solid color? We can just paint the damn wall in the same color.”
She snatched the swatch out of his hand. “It’s not about the color. It’s the texture. It’s beautiful, and it wouldn’t look the same just painted.”
“But—”
“But nothing. You had your chance to argue, and you said it was okay. You can’t get pissy about it now.”
Ben cut off his words and just shook his head again. She was right. He hadn’t bothered to look before she’d made the decision, so he could hardly complain now.
He didn’t even care, anyway. What was another wall of wallpaper—even if it was a solid cream color that he could have painted in about fifteen minutes?
“He’ll come around,” the salesman said with a smile, speaking to Mandy. “I see it all the time. The husband thinks his wife is crazy about her choices, but then he seems it done and realizes she’s right.”
“Oh, he’s not my husband. I’m just helping him out as a friend.”
Once again, Ben didn’t know why she was so quick to clarify their relationship. Who the hell cared if this random guy thought they were married?
“You’re kidding,” the salesman said, looking more amused than embarrassed by his mistake. “I would have sworn you were married. You argue just like a married couple.”
Mandy didn’t have anything to say to that, but she didn’t look happy when they left the store.
Ben obviously wasn’t husband-material to her.
