When She's Bad

by Leanne Banks

  She felt so lost. Maybe if she went to bed she would fall asleep and the horrible knot in her chest would go away. She heard her door open and looked up to see Benjamin enter.

  He glanced around the condo. “Did Nicky come for Willy?”

  She nodded, her throat tight with misery.

  “Did you work out an arrangement to see—”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, biting her lip to stave off tears. In fact, she’d promised Nicky that she would rip her into little pieces if she didn’t take good care of Willy.

  He nodded, taking a breath and putting his hands on his hips. “You’d rather talk about Guy Crandall and why you lied to me.”

  Ouch. The accusation pinched. “Not really.”

  “You didn’t really lie?” he asked, his voice rising.

  “No,” she said, looking at the leather cushion. “I meant I wouldn’t rather talk about Guy Crandall.” She could feel the anger rolling off of him. His displeasure bothered her. She was a survivalist. She’d been through tough times and she’d had to do things she wasn’t necessarily proud of to get through them, but she didn’t like what she was feeling right now. She hated disappointing Benjamin.

  She felt like a piece of crud.

  He sat on the cushion that she’d been intently studying. His thigh blocked her view. “Why did you lie to me?”

  “I couldn’t tell you the truth because of your brother.”

  “That’s no excuse. You had every reason to trust me,” he said and she heard more than injured male pride in his voice.

  Delilah felt even more like crud. Nothing like being caught between a rock and a hard place. Jeez, that was where she lived. She met his gaze. “How hard for you was it to promise that you wouldn’t tell Robert about Willy?”

  “Difficult, but—”

  “Exactly. If I’d told you earlier, then it would have been even more difficult. You have this huge sense of integrity and it would have suffered. Your integrity is suffering now.”

  “Doesn’t yours suffer?”

  Delilah fought the guilty feeling. Her father had spent a lot of time trying to make her feel guilty. The trouble was she wasn’t just feeling guilty because she hadn’t told Benjamin the whole truth and nothing but the truth. She felt guilty because she sensed she’d hurt him. “I do my best and I do what I have to. I know I’m not perfect and never will be.”

  “I hate for people who are important to me to lie to me.”

  Her heart dipped. Was she that important to him? No, she insisted. “I did what I had to do.”

  Benjamin stood. “Damn it, you should have trusted me, Delilah. I was willing to buy this friggin’ condo from you. That should have given you a sign.”

  She gnawed on her lip. “Yes. That was very nice, but blood is different. You can’t tell me you’re not protective of your brother.”

  “Of course I’m protective of my brother, but—”

  “But nothing,” Delilah interjected. “You feel torn now. You would have felt torn then.”

  “What’s it going to take for you to trust me? When are you going to admit that there’s something between us?” he demanded.

  Delilah was oh-so-tempted to close her eyes, cover her ears and sing la-la-la so she couldn’t hear him. “I don’t have a lot of experience with trusting people.”

  “Maybe you’ve been hanging around the wrong kind of people,” he said, his voice edged with a sexy roughness.

  “Maybe,” she admitted, her heart jumping.

  “Do you want me to stay tonight?”

  Yes. No. Yes. No. She felt raw and vulnerable. He could get to her tonight. He could get to her in ways she wasn’t sure she wanted to be gotten. He already had.

  “No,” she finally said.

  “Okay, good night,” he told her in a voice so cold it gave her a chill. She blinked and he was gone, and she was even more miserable than before he’d visited her.

  The following morning, Delilah felt lost. She kept going into the nursery and inhaling the baby powder scent of Willy. She called Nicky to find out how Willy was and learned that he’d had a restless night. Although deep down, she knew Willy would adjust, Delilah knew she had been altered, and she wasn’t sure she could go back to being the person she’d been before Willy had shown up on her doorstep. Irritated with her misery, she left for the office early and resolved to catch up on everything she’d set aside during the last few weeks.

  Midway through the day she came upon an invitation to a cocktail party from one of the spa’s most influential clients, Iris McLanahan. Delilah chuckled at the scribble at the bottom of the invite, No need to RSVP. You will attend! Bring a gorgeous man.

  Delilah thought of Benjamin, and immediately shook her head at the image. She heard the low chuckle of Paul Woodward in the outer office and liked the idea. She had noticed that Paul and Sara were getting along much better lately. What a relief. Sara had been so stiff and uncomfortable around him for a while.

  Rising from her chair, she peeked into the outer office. “Hey big boy, I’ve got a special request. Are you up to it?”

  The slightest trace of discomfort crossed his face. Glancing at Sara, he winked then lifted his lips in a boyish smile. “You know I’ve always been up to it,” he flirted back at her. “What do you need?”

  “Are you available tonight?” she asked.

  His jaw dropped and he darted another quick glance at Sara. “Uh—for what?”

  “Business acquaintance obligation. Iris McLanahan has summoned me to a cocktail party. She’s also ordered me to bring a gorgeous male. You fit the qualifications, so you’re elected if you can make it.”

  “I, uh—”

  “I’d really appreciate it if you could do it,” Delilah confessed. “I don’t feel like doing this one alone.”

  “Okay. Just tell me what time and I’ll pick you up.”

  “Eight o’clock.” She smiled. “I’ll try not to keep you out too late.”

  Hours later, Delilah was putting the finishing touches on her makeup. She was dressed in a purple curve-loving designer dress and she looked pretty damn good if she did say so herself. She remembered her mother had always said that if you felt depressed, you should dress up. It would make you feel better.

  Delilah had to confess that she did indeed feel a little better, not a lot, but enough. She hadn’t attended an adult event since Cash’s funeral, so she supposed it was time.

  Her doorbell rang and she couldn’t help smiling. Paul. He was gorgeous. He was safe. Perfect combination for tonight. Grabbing her purse, she opened the door and thoroughly approved his well-cut suit. She let out a whistle. “You look better than I do.”

  “I’m blushing,” he lied.

  She rolled her eyes. “You never blush.”

  “Under the right circumstances with the right woman,” he corrected, escorting her to the elevator.

  “Have you found her?” she asked, curious.

  “Who?” he asked, seeming a bit distracted.

  “The right woman,” she said as the elevator whisked down to the garage.

  He was silent for a long moment.

  “Paul? Are you okay?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I just have something on my mind, but don’t worry. I’ll put on my party front at Iris’s.”

  “You don’t have to go,” she said, feeling guilty for having pushed him into going with her.

  “No.” He lifted his hand. “This is fine. It’s good.”

  “Good for who?” she asked doubtfully.

  “For several people,” he said in a mysterious voice.

  “What have you got cooking on the back burner?”

  “Front burner. She hasn’t taken me seriously yet. My instincts tell me she may after tonight.”

  “Poor woman,” Delilah said, making a clucking sound as he led her to his car.

  “Poor me,” he corrected.

  Two-and-a-half hours later, Delilah had loosened up. After two champagne cocktails and two of
Iris’s secret cocktail dubbed Knock-out punch, she felt as if she were walking on a ship. The walls were moving. The floor definitely shifted when she tried to put one foot in front of the other.

  She nodded and smiled at everyone who spoke to her, but she couldn’t have repeated what they’d said. Hearing Iris’s trilling laughter from the next room, Delilah saw an anniversary clock on a table and squinted to make out the time. She couldn’t resist the urge to put her hands on either side of it to make it stay still.

  “What are you doing to that clock?” Paul asked, appearing by her side.

  “I can’t read it when it’s moving,” she said.

  He chuckled. “Definitely time to go.”

  “Ya think?”

  “Yeah. Let’s say goodbye to Iris.”

  Delilah thanked Iris then leaned heavily on Paul as he helped her into his car. She leaned her head against the headrest and fell asleep on the way to her condo. He helped her into the elevator and tried to help her to get into her room, but she couldn’t find her key.

  “I know it’s here somewhere,” she muttered and dumped the contents of her purse onto the hallway floor in frustration. “Do you see it?”

  Paul lifted a key. “Is this it?”

  Delilah shrugged. “Probably. Try it.”

  Pacing his condo, Benjamin heard odd sounds in the doorway. He’d just returned from a family dinner where he’d watched Lilly nearly have a meltdown. His father was pissed because Benjamin had told him he was going into business with a friend. The evening had been so awkward it had made his teeth ache. And Delilah weighed heavily on his mind.

  Hearing another sound from the hallway, he impatiently opened the door and spotted Delilah sitting beside her door doing something with her purse while a man messed with her doorknob.

  An ugly bitter taste filled his mouth. Wearing an unbuttoned coat that revealed her shapely legs, Delilah was dressed to slay armies, and although he didn’t swing that way, he suspected the guy standing beside her didn’t have a hard time keeping his bed occupied.

  If he had any sense, he would close his door and forget Delilah Montague, but Benjamin was pretty sure he’d lost most of his sense the day she’d rescued him.

  “Need some help?” he asked, stepping into the hallway.

  Two heads turned in his direction. The male looked somewhat relieved. Delilah looked dazed and disheveled.

  The man cleared his throat. “We can’t seem to find her key,” he said.

  “Benjamin has one,” Delilah said, scooping up the contents of her purse.

  “Benjamin? I’m Paul, Paul Woodward. I work at the spa with Delilah,” he said, extending his hand.

  Worked with her? Or on her? Benjamin grudgingly accepted the man’s handshake.

  “Thanks for your help,” Paul said. “I think Delilah needs to get to bed.”

  Benjamin pulled her key from his pocket and unlocked the door. Paul made no move to go inside.

  Benjamin relaxed a millimeter.

  “Thanks for being my escort for the party,” Delilah said, kissing Paul on the cheek. “Sorry I got wobbly. I think Iris’s Knock-out punch was really a knock-out.”

  “No problem,” Paul said. “Sleep a few extra winks.”

  He turned to Benjamin. “Thanks again.”

  Delilah tottered into her foyer, weaving from side to side. She leaned a bit too far and collided with the wall. He heard her swear under her breath and bit back a chuckle.

  “You okay?” Benjamin asked, closing the door behind him.

  “I’ll be fine as soon as everything stops moving. Iris thought she was so cute with that Knock-out punch. Geez, I wonder what she put in it.”

  Benjamin took her arm and led her to her bedroom. He pushed her into a sitting position on the bed. She kicked off her shoes.

  “Who is Paul?” he asked, still feeling an itchy tension.

  “Everybody’s favorite massage therapist. Isn’t he gorgeous? And he’s not too smart.”

  Benjamin ground his teeth. “He meets your qualifications.”

  “Yeah.” She sighed and fell back on the bed. “Except he seems like a brother. Damn shame, isn’t it?”

  “Sure is,” he lied, lifting her slightly to remove her coat. Her arms were dead weight. She offered little help. “Why didn’t you ask me to escort you?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re a Huntington. Everyone would whisper, whisper, whisper. What’s a Huntington doing with that skanky Delilah Montague.”

  “You’re not skanky,” Benjamin corrected. “You just give the false impression of being a bad girl.”

  “How do you know it’s false?”

  “Because I’ve seen you be good.”

  She waved her hand. “You’re making my head hurt,” she said her eyes smoky, her mouth pouty. “Thanks for using your key.”

  He pulled her up the bed so that her head rested on the pillow.

  She shook her head at him. “Just because I had too much of Iris’s punch doesn’t mean you’re going to get any from me tonight.”

  Benjamin cleared his throat to cover a chuckle. “I’ve never been into the idea of necrophilia.”

  She frowned. “What’s that?”

  “Sex with dead people.”

  “I’m not dead,” she said and closed her eyes. “I’m just dizzy. And sleepy.” Her voice slurred together.

  For his own amusement, Benjamin silently counted to fifty-three before Delilah’s snore interrupted him.

  You know you drank too much when you wake up the next morning and you’re still wearing your control-top pantyhose.

  —DELILAH’S DICTUM

  Chapter 17

  Just before midnight, Sara’s doorbell rang. Her heart jumped in her chest and she bit her lip. With her luck, it would be a ring and run.

  Paul had promised he would come see her after he delivered Delilah to her condo. She’d told him it wasn’t necessary. They hadn’t made any promises. No strings, no commitments. Just friendship and amazing sex.

  She’d told herself that all evening as she’d gnawed her fingernails down to the quick. He was almost ten years younger than she was. He couldn’t be that attracted to her. He couldn’t want her exclusively. He couldn’t, even though he insisted that he did.

  Pulling her terry robe around her, she cracked the storm door and saw him standing in all his gorgeousness on her front porch. Her heart danced again. He smiled, revealing his ladykiller dimple, and she opened the door.

  “As promised,” he said, stepping inside.

  “Unnecessary,” she said, though she was thrilled to see him.

  “I disagree,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “I’m here to make a late-night delivery.” He lowered his mouth and kissed her.

  The room began to spin.

  “Let me move in with you,” he coaxed between kisses.

  Breathless, she shook her head. “You’re crazy.”

  “It’s crazy for me to keep driving back to my place at night when I want to stay with you,” he said, sliding his mouth down her neck and pulling at her robe.

  “This is insane,” she said, helping him with her robe and tugging at his shirt. “I thought you would be tempted to stay the night with Delilah.”

  “I told you Delilah just flirts with me because I’m safe.” He chuckled. “Poor thing. She got drunk. She’s gonna have a headache the size of the Grand Canyon tomorrow morning.”

  Sara felt a twinge of sympathy. “She must be upset about Willy.”

  “And maybe some other stuff. I don’t know what. Right now, I just want to be with you,” he said, cupping her breasts. “In you.”

  Sara’s knees wobbled. “Oh, Paul, what you do to me. I’m shameless.”

  Paul shook his head. “I love you. I want to ask you to marry me, but I know that’ll scare the hell out of you.”

  Sara gasped. “Marry!”

  “Yeah, but I can wait.” He picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. “I just wish you’d let me live with you so I
can prove how indispensable I am.”

  Sara fought a lump rising in her throat. “I’m just so afraid it won’t last. That you’ll wake up one day and realize you don’t want to be with an older woman.”

  “Sweetheart, I’ve proven to you over and over that I’m no baby.” He paused, sliding his finger from her lips, down her chin and throat to her breasts. “But I’d sure like to give you a baby.”

  He couldn’t have said anything more perfect. He couldn’t have said anything that would touch her deepest longings more. Her chest tightened and her eyes filled with tears. Her husband hadn’t wanted children and she’d just assumed that her chance for a baby had passed her by.

  Oh, Lord, was it possible? Was it wise? How could she possibly say no? She looked into his gaze and the expression in his eyes silenced the voices of doubt that crowded her head. “You’re making me fall in love with you.”

  “Lady, I’ve just gotten started.”

  Delilah awakened the next morning to a ringing sound. It felt as if it originated inside her head. She shook her head and winced. The ringing continued. She slowly opened her eyes, which was difficult to do, because she hadn’t removed her makeup last night and her eyelashes were sticking together. The ringing stopped. Squinting her eyes, she looked from side to side. A sliver of relief slid through her. Her bed. She was in her bed by herself.

  So she hadn’t been totally stupid. She thought of those last two drinks and cringed. Just partly stupid. She had a vague memory of Benjamin helping her to bed. It seemed he was rescuing her all the time lately.

  She frowned. Her mouth tasted as if something had crawled inside and died. She lifted her head and her stomach turned over. She immediately sank back onto the pillow.

  She realized she was still dressed. That was good and bad. Geez, she hadn’t even ditched the shaper pantyhose, she thought, feeling like a thousand rubber bands were wrapped around her waist and thighs. She lay still for a moment and had an odd feeling that something was wrong. What was it?

  Her brain bumbled along until it hit a speed bump. Willy, she thought. Willy was gone. She closed her eyes at the pain that twisted through her. What was she going to do without him? She felt so empty.