“I have a trial coming up, but if there’s any way I can be at your appointment, I will. Just let me know when and where.”
This was so awkward. She’d never dated much. By the time she’d gone to public high school, the other girls were way ahead of her with their flirting skills. She’d always just wanted to meet someone who would understand her…whom she could understand. Travis had been the one. Even though her aunt had told her she was too young to get seriously involved at twenty, her parents, on the other hand, had told her to follow her heart. She had.
“What are you thinking about?” Ben asked, and she realized memories must have shone in her eyes.
“I was thinking about what brought me here.”
“To Albuquerque?”
“No, not exactly. To age twenty-four, having the shop, meeting you and now getting pregnant.”
He waited for a moment as if to see if she’d say more. But she didn’t. She didn’t know him well enough. She’d been so foolish to let unexpected desire lead her here.
“You said you live with your aunt. Do you have other family in Albuquerque?”
She shook her head. “No. My parents are in Africa right now. And even my aunt—” She stopped, not knowing how many personal details she wanted to give him.
“Your aunt?”
“She’s traveling. She’ll be back in a few weeks.”
“Does she know about the pregnancy?”
“I called her this afternoon. I wanted to tell you first.”
That seemed to give him pause. “How about Camille?”
“If we have any alone time before the wedding, I’ll tell her. But if not, I’ll wait until she returns from her honeymoon.”
“Are you planning to stay overnight at the hacienda after the wedding?”
Miguel Padilla’s parents lived in a hacienda outside of Santa Fe. That’s where the wedding was going to be held, though the reception would be celebrated at the inn where Sierra and Ben had attended the engagement party. “I’ll be staying over. Camille’s mother wants to talk to me about Christmas presents she’d like me to make for her nieces. What about you?”
“I hadn’t decided yet, but now I’m beginning to think it might be a good idea. In fact, we could go together.”
That suggestion urged her to take a deep breath. “Together?”
“We’re going to have decisions to make. Don’t you think it would be a good idea if we got to know each other?”
Sierra really hadn’t thought past telling Ben the news about the pregnancy, simply because she hadn’t known what his reaction would be…or how he’d feel about fatherhood. Maybe the weekend would provide them with a good opportunity to figure out whether or not they could parent together.
When she didn’t answer right away, he frowned. “Look, if that’s too complicated—”
“No. No, it’s not. I just…I hadn’t thought past telling you I was pregnant. I thought you’d want nothing to do with me and the baby.”
“How did you get that impression?”
“Your career takes up most of your time. Besides, this isn’t the kind of responsibility a man takes on willingly.”
“You assumed I wouldn’t be willing.”
“I suppose I did.”
The silence floated around them like the dust motes in the sunlight. Finally, Ben concluded, “Maybe after next weekend we’ll both know each other better.”
There was something about Ben that drew Sierra toward him. It also made her a little afraid. Not physically afraid or anything like that…just afraid because he looked at her with so many questions, as if she wasn’t telling him the truth. He looked at her as if she were on one side of the fence and he was on the other. Maybe her imagination was just going wild and he wasn’t as complicated as she thought he was.
Just as she’d done in his office, he took a card from his pocket and handed it to her. “My cell phone number’s on there. You can always reach me. I’ll give you a call later in the week and we’ll set up a time for Saturday.”
She nodded. As he turned to leave, she called his name. “Ben?”
He faced her once more.
“Thanks for making this a little easier.”
“We’ll see how easy it is once we get deeper into it.” Then he left her shop.
Had she made a mistake agreeing to go to the wedding with him? She could back out, tell him she wanted to drive herself.
But that would be the cowardly thing to do. She wasn’t a coward.
Chapter Two
“Are you ready?” Ben asked in that way he had of appraising Sierra that made her feel turned inside out.
Flustered and nervous after opening her door to him, she asked herself for the umpteenth time why she’d agreed to drive with him to Santa Fe for Camille and Miguel’s wedding. “Sure am. I just have to grab my duffel bag and gown. Come on in.”
Friendly. She’d just be friendly and polite and keep her distance. But that was difficult when excitement tingled through her from studying him in his black polo shirt and khaki slacks.
She stood aside to let him in.
As soon as he stepped into the casita’s small living room, she realized just how hard keeping her distance would be. Tall, fit and broad-shouldered, Ben seemed to take up the entire room.
“This is nice,” he remarked, assessing the space. A tan ceramic-tiled counter separated the appliances from a table for four and a hutch displaying artifacts. The house had an alarm to protect them and other treasures her aunt had gathered over the years.
“It’s been my home as much as any place has,” Sierra admitted.
“You said you lived with your aunt when you attended high school.”
Apparently he’d listened and remembered. “Yes, and since I returned to Albuquerque a few years ago.” She went to the sofa to pick up her garment bag.
“You didn’t say much about where you lived before returning here.”
Avoiding his gaze, she lifted her duffel. “We can talk about that in the car if you want to get going.”
Before she could guess what he was going to do, his hand reached out for her bag. “I’ll take that.”
“I’m stronger than I look,” she joked.
He stood very close, so close she could catch the scent of his aftershave. “I imagine you are. But if you want to lock the door, you’ll need a free hand.”
He was right and one step ahead of her.
Somehow in passing the duffel’s strap to him, their hands brushed. His skin was hot, slightly rough. She remembered exactly how his hands had felt on her skin.
When their gazes collided, neither of them breathed for a moment. But then Ben motioned to the door. “Ladies first.” His expression was unreadable as she set the alarm, then stepped outside.
After he stowed her duffel on the floor in the backseat of his SUV, he hung her gown across from his tuxedo. Sierra had already fastened her seat belt when he climbed in. He stared at her for a few seconds and didn’t start the ignition.
“What?” she asked.
“I’m surprised you don’t have more luggage.”
“We’re just going overnight.”
“Yeah, but with the wedding and all…”
What had he expected? A huge cosmetics case, a suitcase filled with alternate outfits? “I’m a traveler, remember? I’ve learned to pack light.”
“You’re one of the few women on earth who can do that.” He turned the key.
“Actually, my mother is another. That’s one handy trait she taught me.”
After he pulled out onto the street, he drove to the intersection. But at the stoplight, he glanced at her again. “You said your parents were anthropologists and you traveled with them until you came back here to live with your aunt while you were in high school.”
“That’s right.”
“You were an only child?”
“I was.”
“Then why did they let you return here to live during your most formative years? Why didn’
t they want to see you go out on your first date, drive your first car, attend a prom?”
Ben might have an edge sometimes—she’d sensed a cynicism about him from the moment she’d met him—but he was much too perceptive, too. Had that talent come from perfecting interrogation skills? Or from trying to read witnesses and criminals?
“My parents are a little unusual.”
“How so?” He turned onto a main street and headed for I-25.
In the past she’d never let anyone but her aunt see how her childhood years had affected her, how lonely she’d been, how the feeling of not being wanted superseded all others. Now that she’d set foot in this conversation, she didn’t know quite how to step out of it.
Sticking to the basics, she explained, “My parents were totally engrossed in their careers.”
“Lots of parents are,” he remarked.
“I suppose so.”
Ben wasn’t going to let that be the end of it. “So how did their preoccupation with their careers affect you?”
“Are you trying to psychoanalyze me?”
Again he tossed her a quick look. “No, just trying to understand your background.”
“Are you going to tell me about yours? I mean, I know you’re from Minnesota, but that’s about it.”
“Are you evading my question?”
She had to remember she was dealing with a lawyer, a man who was used to getting answers. She had the feeling he wouldn’t give up until he did.
After another few moments of hesitation, she agreed, “Yes, lots of parents are engrossed in their careers. That’s true. But to explain my parents’ lives…” She hesitated again.
He waited, expecting her to go on.
She could just clam up, but if they were in this for the long haul, she should give him a hint of what her childhood had been. “You told me your work is demanding and you’re busy even nights and weekends.”
“I did.”
“Well, imagine this. Imagine that you married another A.D.A. whose dedication and work ethic was the same as yours. On top of that, imagine that you worked with her on every case, all day, every day. Then picture your wife having a baby and the two of you still wanting to work every case together and wanting to go back to the way things were before the baby was born.”
He went silent for at least a half mile until they veered off the main road onto the interstate and headed for Santa Fe. Finally, he offered, “If I imagined that scenario, then I’d also imagine a nanny raising the baby, right?”
“Mom and Dad were researchers, so I had lots of nannies.” Usually native women whom she’d come to love and respect. But she’d felt so separated from her mom and dad as they’d interviewed villagers, discussed their theories, written up their findings.
Ben’s mouth tightened. “Where were you born?”
“In France. My father was French and his mother was living then. From the accounts I’ve heard, my parents went there in my mom’s ninth month and we stayed for three months after I was born.”
“And then?”
“Then they went to Africa, then Bali, India and South America.”
“How many languages do you speak?”
“A few.”
“I’ll bet! So what happens in a child’s head when she settles in and then has to move again—someplace strange and foreign where she doesn’t even know the language—and her parents are preoccupied with their careers?”
No matter how she’d tried to be factual and not emotional, Ben had focused on the undercurrent. “I lived in books if I had access to them. When I didn’t, I learned the crafts of the people we lived with.”
“Crafts. You mean like cooking, making clay pots?”
“Basket making, weaving, dying yarn, etching, whittling. You name it, I’ve probably done it.” Definitely wanting to change the topic, she asked, “Are you close to your family?”
“‘Close’ is a relative term, but yes, I think I am. We call one another when we need something. I go home for holidays when I can.”
“The night of Camille and Miguel’s engagement party, you mentioned your dad and going ice fishing with him. What about your mom?”
The silence that invaded the car at Sierra’s question told her more than any words could that Ben’s childhood hadn’t been perfection, either. “She left when I was six.”
“Left your dad?”
“Left my dad, Nathan, Sam, me and Rapid Creek.”
She could tell this wasn’t territory Ben traveled often, either. To push or not to push. If she knew more about his background, she might understand him better, right?
“Where did she go?”
“It’s not important. She just went. Dad wiped her out of our lives. He finally told us she’d died when Nathan went to college.”
“And you didn’t know?” Sierra was absolutely shocked.
“When she left, she didn’t stay in touch.”
Although Ben was obviously trying to keep his tone neutral, she heard bitterness and she stopped asking questions. They’d both shared enough for one session.
It was so much easier to concentrate on the scenery she loved. New Mexico was absolutely her favorite place on earth. No sky seemed as blue, no clouds seemed as close, no cliffs seemed quite as awe-inspiring. From the Sandia Mountains northeast of Albuquerque to the Sangre de Cristos east of Santa Fe, from the piñon pines along the Rio Grande to the sage, coyote fences and adobes, New Mexico made her feel as if she fit here in a way she didn’t fit anywhere else. Maybe it was because her aunt lived here and her aunt had been the one loving, guiding, gentle force for her whole life. Yet her aunt wasn’t the only reason. There was something about the creative spirit here that just enveloped Sierra in loving arms.
Obviously also wanting to end their conversation for now, Ben switched on the CD player. Strings of an acoustic guitar and flute floated into the car. It was the kind of music she liked, too. Did she and Ben have common interests?
She doubted it more and more as the miles passed and he didn’t speak. He seemed to be miles away, and she suspected he wasn’t thinking about the wedding.
Sierra left Ben to his thoughts for the remainder of the drive. She refused to think beyond today. She was going to enjoy her best friend’s wedding and try to find out more about Ben. But something told her finding out more about him might lead her someplace she didn’t want to go. With him beside her in the car, it was hard to escape memories of the night they’d shared. But for now, she had to put them aside. She had to think clearly. She couldn’t let the sight of his strong hands on the steering wheel remind her of how those hands had made her feel.
She was almost relieved when they took the road to the Padilla family’s hacienda. The black, wrought-iron gates were open, welcoming them. A sprawling peach adobe house nestled against the hills while a tiered fountain in the front courtyard bubbled and streamed.
They’d almost reached the protective arch above the door when the heavy oak portal opened and Camille came running out. She embraced Sierra and then saw Ben holding Sierra’s gown and duffel. “What’s this? Did you two come together?”
Before Sierra could answer, Ben replied, “It seemed the practical thing to do.”
“Why, yes, I guess it would be practical,” Camille agreed, her dark eyes sparkling with curiosity as she arched a brow at Sierra, and her black hair blew in the fall breeze.
As they all stepped inside the foyer, Ben said, “I can just drop this all in Sierra’s room. Which one is hers?”
“Upstairs, second door on the right.”
After Ben headed that way, Camille looked at her friend. “What haven’t you told me?”
Sierra felt her cheeks warm. “We’ll have to talk when you have some time.”
“I’ll make the time,” Camille assured her.
“Sure, you will. In between saying your vows, dancing your wedding dance and leaving for your honeymoon.”
“Sierra, how nice to see you again!” Camille’s mother, Maria, greet
ed her as she joined them. “You look beautiful, as always. But I’m going to have to steal my daughter away now. It’s time for her to get dressed.”
“Mom, I have plenty of time.”
“Not as much as you think. Sierra, once you’re dressed, come down to the master suite. That’s where Camille will be. Mrs. Padilla and I will be helping her get ready there.”
Camille rolled her eyes and murmured to Sierra, “This is a tradition of some kind.”
“Traditions are good,” Sierra tossed back with a smile, knowing she was going to begin lots of traditions for the child she carried…so many her son or daughter wouldn’t be able to count them all.
She gave Camille a hug. “Go on. Make yourself beautiful for your husband-to-be. I’ll see you in a little while.”
As Sierra wound her way through the living room to the stairway that led to the second floor, she found Ben just mounting the steps.
“I got waylaid by Miguel—last-minute instructions,” he explained.
“Anything I should know about?”
“I don’t think so. Apparently there was a glitch and the wedding arch just arrived. But it’s set up now and all the chairs are in place. He said there are enough flowers to open his own shop.”
Sierra laughed. “Camille loves flowers, especially jasmine and gardenias.”
“That’s what’s there.”
As they walked up the beautiful oak stairs, the scent of lemon oil permeated the space. Ben asked, “What’s your favorite flower?”
She looked over her shoulder at him. “I’m partial to roses, especially pale pink ones.”
“You wear the scent of roses.” He reached the landing a step behind her.
“You noticed!”
Beside her now on the second floor, he gazed into her eyes and admitted, “I noticed a lot about you, Sierra. That’s how we ended up in bed together.”
Her cheeks began to burn. Apparently Ben said exactly what was on his mind. She turned toward the second door on the right.
After she stepped over the threshold into the guest room, she appreciated the white iron bedstead, carved oak furniture, beautiful lace curtains and colorful rugs on the floor.
The Daddy Verdict Page 2
