by Cassie Miles
But she had wanted to see him. Even if the rest of the night didn't go the way she'd planned, it was worth it. His gray T-shirt outlined his arms and shoulders as he stroked the curved line of the hull. His jeans hung low on his hips. There was nothing like watching a man doing physical labor to remind a woman why the opposite sex was so very useful.
She stepped up beside him and glided her fingers across the satin-smooth wood. "It's beautiful."
"She's coming along." He stepped back to admire his handiwork. "I had hoped to have her finished before Natalie's visit. That's not going to happen."
"You'll have plenty of time. The whole rest of the summer. You and Jerod can both teach her how to sail."
"He's going to be all right."
But she heard the doubt in his voice. He wasn't referring to Jerod's recovery from the operation. The emotional pain of losing Charlene would be hard to bear.
Her gaze fell to the floor where they'd found the body. Cleaning up the bloodstains didn't erase the memory.
Ben touched her cheek and turned her face toward him. "Why did you come down here?"
Her heart skipped a couple of beats. Usually, she was fairly direct with men. Came right out and told them what she wanted. But this was different.
Digging into the pocket of her denim jacket, she pulled out her last granola bar. "I brought you dinner."
A slow grin teased the corners of his mouth, and his eyes took on a sexy glow. "I don't believe you."
'True story."
"I wanted you to come to me. I wished it."
"How much?"
"A lot," he said.
"Show me."
His embrace sent her pulse racing. The pressure of his lips against hers sparked a sensual heat that burned slowly through her veins. In about two seconds, she was ready to tear off her clothes.
Gasping, she asked, "Condom?"
"No."
She wasn't about to go through the same thing that happened last night. "Race you back to the house."
Chapter Nineteen
Holding Liz's hand, Ben ran up the hill toward the house. His armed bodyguard followed, hand on weapon and not amused. By contrast, he and Liz were giggling like a couple of teenagers on a first date. Inside the front door, he aimed for the front stairs, and she followed.
Upstairs in his bedroom, they grabbed for each other. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him close for another deep, fierce kiss. He held her tight with one arm. His other hand cupped her round bottom, anchoring her.
The pressure inside him began to build as her body rocked against him. What they lacked in subtlety, they made up for in passion.
He needed this release, this moment of mind-numbing, heart-pumping lust. But he had to slow down. If he continued at this pace, he'd be done before he got her clothes off. And he wanted more for her. A night for the record books.
Grasping her shoulders, he forced her away from him. Her cheeks flushed a delicious pink. Her lips parted, and she was breathing hard.
He peeled off her denim jacket and threw it aside. In a belated attempt to be suave, he unfastened the first button on her blouse and lightly caressed her creamy skin.
"Too slow," she said.
"Give me time, Liz."
She tore open the buttons on her shirt. The fabric slipped from her shoulders. Her torso was smooth and firm with a feminine curve at her waist. Beautiful as a marble sculpture. Why did she hide this body under baggy shirts? He reached behind her back and unhooked her lacy white bra. Dusky rose nipples tipped her firm, round breasts.
When he leaned down and suckled, she arched her back, trembled and moaned. The sound aroused him. He wanted to feed her hunger, to satisfy her completely. She was more to him than a wild one-night stand. A hell of a lot more.
Liz stood by him when no one else would. She was steadfast and strong. His woman.
He tore off his shirt, and they joined in an embrace. Flesh to flesh, the friction of their bodies sparked a tactile sensation of driving heat that grew more and more intense. Explosive. Combustible.
They fell back onto the bed, shedding the rest of their clothing in a frenzy. He threw back the covers, and she stretched out on the sheets. Her shapely legs moved languidly. With a pointed toe, she traced a line down the center of his chest. He grasped her foot, kissed the sole, then the knee. His fingers parted the delicate folds at the juncture of her thighs. She was hot and wet, ready for him. Waiting for him. But not patiently.
She sat up on the bed, wrapped her arms around him and fell back, pulling him down on top of her in a neat and effective maneuver. She was a demanding lover. He liked that.
Her fingers slid down his body, lower and lower until she grasped his hardness. Slowly, enticingly, she tugged.
Electricity crackled beneath the surface of his skin. He was about to explode, needed for her to stop, wanted her to keep going.
Frantically, he tugged open the drawer of his bedside table. He found his supply of condoms. As he sheathed himself, she caressed his arms, his chest, his shoulders.
"Faster," she urged him.
"I was thinking I might get the whipped cream."
"Later."
Her urgency spurred him to action. He rose above her, positioned himself between her widespread thighs.
For a moment, he paused as he gazed down into her wide green eyes. He caressed her gently, savoring the anticipation of the moment when they would join.
"Now," she said. "Now, Ben."
As if there were any doubt.
He plunged into her, and she closed tightly around him. So tight. So perfect.
She matched the rhythm of his thrusts, taking all of him into her body. Never before had he been with a woman whose hunger matched his own. It took all of his self-control to hold back. Her gasps turned into little yips. He waited. It was impossible. He waited until he felt her convulsing. Then he allowed himself to take his sweet, shuddering release.
He collapsed on the bed beside her. In spite of every other disaster that plagued his life, he was happy. Fulfilled. At peace.
Quiet now, they held each other. As a general rule, he wasn't big on talking after sex, but he needed to let her know how important she was to him. He cared about her, wanted to spend a hell of a lot more time with her. Days and weeks. Maybe even years.
Though he might love her, he didn't dare say the word out loud. It was too soon.
After a contented sigh, she propped herself up on an elbow and looked down at him. Her contented smile was more enigmatic than the Mona Lisa's. "Ben," she said.
"Yes, Liz."
She reached across the covers and picked up his black boxers, which she dangled from the waistband. "Why am I not surprised that these are silk?"
"So are your panties."
"Very true." Liz liked to indulge herself with quality undergarments. "Under our clothes, I guess we're both millionaires."
She dropped the boxers, hoping that he wouldn't bother putting them on. He had one of the all-time best bodies she'd ever seen. A broad, firm chest with exactly the right amount of hair. A long, lean middle. And a tight butt.
She couldn't stop looking at him. He pleased her in every way. Even better, he was a skilled lover who knew when to thrust hard and when to tease.
If this night had been only about sex, she would have been coolly, blissfully happy. But there was something more. In the midst of their crazy wild passion, for one special moment, he'd looked into her eyes, and they'd connected at a deep level. More than lovers? That scared her.
He glided his finger through her hair. "There's something I want to ask you."
This could be trouble. "Ben, we really don't have to talk. I'm not—"
"How would you like a promotion?"
"What?"
"You heard me." He kissed her forehead. "I value your intelligence and efficiency. I want you with me on a more permanent basis."
"With full benefits?"
"The fullest." His sexy grin sent a shiver down her bac
kbone.
She didn't know what to make of his offer. "After sex, most guys want to go steady or something like that. But you're offering a job? It almost feels like you're paying me to make love."
"I can't put a price on what happened between us tonight."
"Even with your millions, you couldn't afford me." She rubbed up against his chest. "The only way you get that kind of passion is free."
But there was no way she could accept his offer. She'd intended to return any paycheck he might have cut for her. It was unethical to accept because Liz was already on the job, and Victoria was paying the tab. After she revealed that bit of info, she doubted he'd ever want her around on a permanent basis. "You told Lattimer that you based success on tangible results."
'True."
"We still haven't figured out who murdered Charlene. I mean, we've pushed your name off the top of the CBI's list of suspects, but we still don't know."
"And I need that answer," he said. "Jerod will want to see Charlene's killer brought to justice."
"Here's my proposal," she said. "When I've figured out the crime, I'll have a proven success record. And I'll be worthy of a promotion."
"Fair enough."
He leaned forward to seal their bargain with a kiss, and she gladly joined her lips with his. His scent intoxicated her senses, and she knew they would be making love again tonight.
But not right now. Though she didn't have the yellow legal pad with her notes, she ran through the list of suspects in her head. Patrice and Monte. Tony Lansing. Dr. Mancini. Victoria. And an array of others who hated Charlene, including party guests and staff at the house.
"Right now, I'm most curious about Victoria," she said.
"Lattimer is investigating her."
"He should be. Ramon clearly implicated her, and I could easily see someone like Victoria hiring a sniper. Still, I don't think she killed Charlene."
"God, I hope not. Not matter what I think of my soon-to-be-ex-wife, she's still the mother of my child."
"She could have talked Tony into the murder. As the family attorney, he'd have a lot of influence in handling Jerod's estate when it passes to Natalie."
"Which," Ben said, "won't be for several years. Jerod is going to recover."
Ironically, Jerod's probable recovery from the tumor changed the motivation for Charlene's murder. The killer had acted within hours of the new will being filed to make sure that Charlene would predecease Jerod. If she hadn't stood in the way of his operation, she might still be alive today.
She finished off a peach and washed it down with a sip of bottled water. "I'll make nice with Agent Lattimer tomorrow. He might have more information."
'That reminds me," Ben said. "He called on my cell while I was working on the boat. The CBI warranted search of the house didn't turn up the sedative used on Charlene."
Which was probably the same drug Ramon had slipped into her drink. She sensed that Ben wasn't telling her everything. "What else?"
"They did find tablets that matched the autopsy report."
"At Ramon's," she assumed.
He nodded. "That particular sedative was also in the black bag Dr. Mancini carries on his house calls."
The next morning, Liz didn't want to leave his bed. She hated the chirping birds and the morning light that slid over the windowsill. This might be the last time, the only time, she would wake up and find Ben beside her.
She had to tell him about being a P.I., couldn't allow the lie to continue for one more day. Then, he'd hate the sight of her. She'd have to leave him, would never feel his kisses again, would never spend another night making love.
She watched his profile as he slept. Even in repose, he had an intensity that compelled her toward him. She'd tried to shield her heart by telling herself that a relationship between them would never work. They came from different worlds. She'd tried to fight the magnetism, but she'd been swept away. Oh, God, she would miss this man.
His eyelids opened, and a lazy morning grin spread across his face. With a growl, he pulled her close and kissed her forehead. "Glad you're here. Thought maybe I dreamed you."
"I'm real."
He rolled over to look at the bedside clock. "Damn. It's after eight. I need to be at the hospital."
Today, he would tell his grandpa about Charlene's murder. "Do you want me to come with you?"
"This is something I should do alone."
She understood. This was a pain that couldn't be shared. "I wish you didn't have to tell him."
"Me, too."
"If his vision hadn't cleared up, I would have pretended to be Charlene forever. Even if I can't stand that perfume."
'There's no way around it." He stared up at the ceiling. "It's always best to tell the truth."
Not always. When she told him the truth, their budding relationship would explode in a giant fireball. She'd never asked to care about him, never wanted to know how perfectly they fit together. And now, her unrequited dreams would be incinerated.
She decided against telling him now. The emotional devastation of dealing with Jerod was enough for one morning. Instead, she got dressed and went downstairs to the dining room while Ben took his shower.
Breakfast at the Crawford estate was never a formal affair. People wandered in and out of the kitchen, choosing whatever they wanted. Three security guards sat at the table, digging into fluffy omelets and bacon.
In the kitchen, Rachel helped the chef by washing plates. Coldly, she asked, "Did you sleep well?"
"Very." Liz wasn't intimidated. "Looks like you could use a hand."
"Annette had her problems, but she was a good maid. Did as she was told."
"Not like me," Liz said.
"Not in the least."
She pitched in and helped with the household chores while Ben was driven to the hospital by one of the security men.
As she swept the deck outside Jerod's room, Liz turned her thoughts to the murder investigation. Though Ramon hadn't admitted that he'd drugged her and Charlene, she started with that assumption. And the drugs had come from Dr. Mancini's bag.
Mancini could have paid Ramon to make sure that she and Charlene were both knocked out. But why?
Mancini could have also returned to the house and turned off the security camera. Was he the killer?
Her cell phone buzzed. It was Harry, calling from the hospital.
"Wanted you to know," he said. "Jerod's okay. He's got a bad case of broken heart, but all his other systems are working just fine."
"Ben had to tell him about the murder."
"It took courage to talk to his grandpa, but it was the right thing to do."
"It's always best to tell the truth."
No matter how devastating.
Chapter Twenty
Ben strode through the front door with only one thought in mind. Find Liz. He needed her.
In the study, he walked directly into her embrace. In silence, they held each other. He drew warmth from her breath, solace from her touch, strength from her endless supply of spirit. He stood there for several long minutes, reviving himself.
When he loosened his hold, she led him to the sofa and held his hand while he sat.
"Talking to Jerod," he said quietly. "It ripped me apart."
His grandpa was still weak, and the medications made him dizzy. But his vision had returned, and he was clearly on the mend. Then Ben gave him the news. "The light in his eyes went out. I could see his sorrow."
"You had to do it."
"No other way," he agreed. "He's being moved to a private room later today. As soon as he starts watching the television, he'll see all about our high profile murder."
"Did you tell him about me impersonating Charlene?"
"Actually, that was the one bright moment. Jerod's fire came back. He was so damn angry. If he'd been strong enough, he would have climbed out of that hospital bed and kicked my ass."
"Doesn't sound too cheerful."
"I'd rather see him fighting mad than drow
ning in sorrow. Your pal, Harry, agrees. He's a hell of a nice guy. A good companion for Jerod."
"He likes you, too. He called and told me."
"You never mentioned that he runs a private detective agenda. Maybe we should hire him to investigate the murder."
'There's a thought."
His gaze sank into her jade eyes, and he saw that she was troubled. Who wouldn't be? Together, they had experienced a lifetime in the past few days. Tragedy, fear and pain. On the plus side was Jerod's recovery. And last night's lovemaking. Love? That word kept popping into his head. Love. When he was with Liz, no other description applied.
All his life, he'd been running the family businesses and protecting their interests. Sure, he knew how to delegate, but the only person he could count on was himself. And now, there was Liz. He trusted her implicitly.
"We've all got to pull together," he said as he stood. "Natalie will be here any minute."
"It occurred to me that I've never seen her room. I've been all over the house with cleaning and such, but never there."
"I'm sure she'll show it to you."
They went upstairs to the deck outside Jerod's room to watch for the car that would bring his daughter to him. She was only supposed to stay for three days, but he was hoping for a longer visit.
Liz leaned her back against the railing and looked up at him. "I've been trying to figure out the murder. Dr. Mancini looks real guilty to me, but he doesn't have a motive."
Apparently, she was taking her self-imposed task of investigating seriously. "You're focused on Mancini because the sedative used on Charlene was in his possession, but that doesn't mean he used them. He always leaves his bag lying around. Anybody could have gotten hold of those sedatives. Maybe Ramon was acting on his own."
"Not for free," she said. "I don't think Ramon ever did anything without a price. The killer—whoever it was— paid Ramon to drug the drinks and to plant that lie in Annette's mind."
Ben saw the front gates open. Natalie was here.
When the car pulled up, he yanked open the back door and helped his five-year-old daughter out of her car seat. She hugged him and giggled. There was no more beautiful sound in the world than the laughter of a child.
