Chapter Twelve
Ever since he and Missy kissed in her office, Ben had been swamped with guilt for crossing the line of professionalism, letting the company down, letting Logan down. He was miserable to work with, he knew it, but he couldn’t settle down when every time he looked at Missy he was reminded that he’d screwed up. He knew what was at stake here, had reminded himself over and over every time he was tempted. Part of him had wanted to confess to Logan, but he couldn’t bear to see the disappointment in his eyes. All he could think about were the worst-case scenarios—what if Missy turned it around and made it sound like Ben was the aggressor? The damage to his reputation would affect Logan’s negotiations with the investors. What if she was pissed that he’d been avoiding her, not even bringing her coffee anymore? What if she found out about Ashley and thought he was just that kind of guy, coming after her in the same creepy way? Sure, she’d initiated, but he’d reciprocated and then some. He’d said fuck way too many times. He’d just been pissed that she’d acted like that was all he was to her—a fuck to get out of having to turn down a job offer. He’d been torn up inside, no longer knowing what was the right thing to do, and fucking miserable about it.
And then everything turned around. Logan stepped in and put an end to his misery, letting Missy go in a gesture of goodwill. He knew in that moment that Logan understood both the cause and solution to Ben’s misery. It was a gift for Ben too, and he owed Logan big time. And then Missy had come to him, prepared to ask him out. He could hardly believe it. From absolute misery to elation in five minutes flat. That was the effect Missy had on him.
He showed up at her apartment door that night and rang the bell, a bouquet of red roses in hand. He was doing it up right, showing her how much she meant to him.
She opened the door, her eyes immediately darting to the roses he held up to her, her expression clearly astonished. She looked at him, her brows scrunched together in a clear WTF reaction.
He nearly laughed. “For my beautiful date.”
She stared at the flowers again. Had she never received flowers? She must’ve been seeing some real losers before.
He reached out, lifting her hand and placing the bouquet in it.
“Ben,” she croaked, her eyes shiny, “thank you.”
“Are you crying?” he asked, shocked that flowers could make tough Missy cry.
“No!” She hid her face in the flowers and backed away from the door.
He followed her in and pulled her into his arms. She rested her cheek against his chest, wetting the soft cotton of his shirt. He tightened his hold, feeling protective of her surprisingly soft side.
She sniffled and finally lifted her head, trying to rub his shirt dry. “Sorry about that.”
He smiled and said in a teasing voice, “Here I’ve been thinking you’re so tough, and then you fall apart over some flowers.”
She smiled back, her eyes still watery. “Shut up.”
He tipped her chin up and kissed her gently, thrilled to be able to touch her again guilt-free after denying himself so long. “Come on, I’ll take you to a nice dinner.”
Her lips pressed tightly together. “I’m really sorry I crossed the line at work.”
“It’s fine. I was more mad at myself.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It was just really important to me I keep things professional in the workplace.” He’d tell her why later, but not now. He just wanted to enjoy their first date.
She nodded, fingering the petal of a rose. “And I’m sorry I acted so casual about fucking you one time. I’d like more than that.”
Heat surged through his veins. “Dinner first; then you can decide if you want to spread your legs for me later.”
She looked up at him, her eyes direct. “It’s a done deal. I don’t need a nice dinner.”
“You definitely do. Don’t make me bring you jewelry. A real sobfest around here.” He smiled down at her, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “What am I going to do with you?”
Her eyes went soft. “I don’t know.”
He kissed her and then entwined his fingers with hers. “Let’s find out.”
~ ~ ~
Missy started the night flustered, clutching her bouquet of red roses with white baby’s breath, breathing in their heavenly scent before going to the kitchen and putting them in the vase from the birthday flowers her sister had sent. No man had ever given her flowers. Even Louis, her ex-husband, hadn’t, saying they were a waste of money because they died.
She pushed thoughts of Louis out of her mind. This was her first real date in a very long time and she wanted to enjoy it. She wore her favorite white cashmere sweater, a gift from her sister, with a black skirt, black tights, and black strappy heels. She was glad she’d dressed up because Ben had too, wearing a dark blue button-down shirt with gray pants and dress shoes. It felt like the beginning of something real, and that filled her with more excitement than fear. She couldn’t completely banish her fear of relationships, but this date was a huge step forward for her, all because of Ben.
She stepped out of the kitchen and took her coat from the front closet, sliding it on. “All set.”
He took her hand, lifting it to graze his warm lips across her knuckles, sending a tingle through her. She felt herself flush, not used to so much sweet affection. “Aren’t you cute being all shy,” he said in a silky voice, his blue eyes dancing with amusement.
She stared pointedly at her hand still captured in his. “Aren’t you cute being all Romeo.”
He barked out a laugh, entwining his fingers with hers. “I thought about bringing you candy—”
“Don’t.” Louis’s peace offerings had always been candy. False sweetness to lure her in again, trusting a man who didn’t deserve her trust.
“You don’t like candy?”
“No.”
“Good thing I didn’t bring it. I thought it might spoil your appetite. There’s this great Indian place. You like spicy food?”
“I love it.”
A small smile brought out the dimples in his stubbled cheeks. Gah, those dimples would be the end of her. “Awesome. See, I’d know this kind of thing if you actually talked to me.”
She headed downstairs with him, enjoying holding hands. “I talk to you.”
“Tiny bits. Glimpses into Missy. I want the whole enchilada.”
“How about the whole samosa?” The spicy pastry was much smaller than an enchilada.
He grinned. “That’s a nice appetizer. I’ll take it.”
Warmth radiated through her body just being close to him, the world taking on softer hues, the streetlights glowing, the moon luminescent. She was glowing. He made her feel good, safe and loved. Maybe he didn’t intend to make her feel loved, but somehow he reached into her heart, wrapping it with warm comforting care. Probably all in her imagination, but it felt like mushy love, and she’d had precious little in her life. She decided not to fight it, for once just to enjoy what he offered.
When they reached his black BMW, he opened the passenger-side door for her and shut it behind her. Wow. He’d pulled out the gentleman treatment tonight. Nice!
He slid into the driver’s seat. “C’mere.” He didn’t wait for her to move, just hooked his hand around the back of her neck and brought her in for a scorching kiss. It was raw and carnal and she never wanted it to end, drowning in a rush of desire. When he finally let her up for air, he murmured, “Just getting the awkward goodnight kiss out of the way.”
Breathless, she finally managed to say, “That was awkward. Thanks.”
He grinned, put the car in gear, and backed out of the space. “There’s the fiery redhead I know.”
“Ugh with the red hair. Why’re you so into that?”
He drove at a sedate pace through the parking lot, heading to the main road. “It speaks to me. Maybe in a former life I was a Scot hooking up with a redhead. Supposedly my birth mom was part Scottish.”
A shiver ran down her spine, the mystical feeling of fate once again unnerving her. “So was mine.”
“What was your birth mom’s name?”
“Taylor Carson.”
“Mine was Margaret Beatty.” He grinned. “At least you’re not my sister.”
“At least we have that.”
He reached over and squeezed her thigh, his hand warming her through her thin tights. “Maybe we’ve got karma and fate going for us.” His fingers slid a fraction closer to her inner thigh, and she spread her legs instinctively, needing more.
“Maybe it’s all hormones.”
He slid his hand away, and she let out a frustrated breath.
He chuckled. “There you go making me feel dirty again. Damn, woman, I can’t wait to bury myself deep inside you again.”
She sucked in air, surprised at the dirty talk when he was going all romantic on her. He was unpredictable, sexy, edgy, and sweet—a lethal combination to her defenses. Absolutely irresistible.
She spoke bluntly, hoping to throw him off whatever game he was playing with this romantic stuff. If this was just about sex, then she needed to mentally prepare, shields up. “Why not just skip dinner and get right to the fucking?”
A small smile played over his lips. “Now, Missy, what would be the fun in that? Anyone can fuck. We’re taking it to the next level.”
Her heart caught in her throat. “And what level is that?”
“Mutual attraction, respect, and admiration.”
Her stomach fluttered, heart pounding, skin hot. It wasn’t just sex, he respected her, admired her even. And it truly was mutual.
He glanced over at her. “Nothing to say to that?”
“Tha-that’s nice,” she stammered, her neck and cheeks burning. She powered down the window and tilted her head into the cold breeze, mortified to be reduced to stammering and blushing.
“You must be part Irish setter,” he said. “You know, red fur, sticking your head out the window.”
A-a-and she was back. “Gee, thanks.”
“Hey, I’m a horny dog, so it’ll all work out.” He hit the button to close her window. She pressed hers at the same time and the window halted.
“It’s freezing,” he said, still pressing his button. “Come on, let go.”
She kept her finger on the button, the window still halfway open. “Maybe I wasn’t done with the fresh air.”
“Have it your way,” he said. “Next time I’ll bring a parka.”
Her heart squeezed. Next time.
~ ~ ~
Once at the restaurant, Spice Jewel, a beautiful place decorated in gold and red tones with dark wood tables and a warm cherry hardwood floor in the wealthy town of Greenport, Ben was back to being her romantic date. And she let him. He helped her off with her coat, pulled out her chair for her, and advised her on the best thing to try on the menu. He probably went here regularly with dates, but she didn’t care who he’d been with before because right now all of his warm affection was directed at her.
“We have to get the samosas,” he said, smiling at her from across the table. “You did promise glimpses into Missy for every samosa I eat.”
She laughed. “I don’t remember it quite the same way.”
“You said not the whole enchilada, just a samosa. So…”
“There’s not that much to know. Really.”
“Says the mysterious one.”
She shook her head and lifted the menu. “You want to order a few things to share?”
“Absolutely.”
They settled on his recommended chicken goan curry, which was a spicy coconut tamarind curry, and saag, which was lamb with spinach and ginger. That would’ve been plenty for her, especially with the samosas, rice, and naan, but then when the waiter arrived, Ben threw in butter chicken and kaali daal too.
“Ben, that’s way too much food,” she said once the waiter left.
“I can easily polish it off.”
“How in the world do you not put on weight when you eat like that?”
He leaned in conspiratorially. “Truth?”
She leaned in. “Yes.”
“Most of my calories are consumed when I eat out.”
She leaned back. “You don’t know how to cook?”
“I do. I choose not to.”
“Why? It’s less expensive and healthier.”
His lips pressed into a flat line, serious now. “It became a chore for me. Growing up, my mom had a lot of terrible migraines from the brain cancer, so I was the one that cooked and sort of ran the household. Now that I don’t have to, I want a break.”
Her throat tightened with raw emotion. “I’m sorry. I totally get that. Sometimes you need to start fresh.”
He nodded once. “You ever start fresh?”
Many, many times. Starting over at her aunt’s house, on the streets, in several foster homes, in her married hell, out of her married hell, in Clover Park. She swallowed hard, telling herself to try to be more open. “Yes.”
He studied her, long moments ticking by in silence. “That’s it? Just yes?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm…”
She smoothed her napkin in her lap, folding the corner of it up and back, up and back.
“So what’s the deal with Sabrina?” he asked.
She straightened, relaxing again, glad he hadn’t pushed her for more. “What do you mean? Sabrina’s great.”
“She single?”
She narrowed her eyes. “You seriously taking me on a date and planning your next date with one of my closest friends?”
He crooked his finger at her. When she didn’t move, he said, “C’mere, I have a secret to tell you.”
She rolled her eyes and leaned in. “What?”
He held her by the chin. “I want you and only you for as long as you’ll have me.”
Her lips parted in surprise.
His fingers released her chin, stroking lightly down her throat. “Got it?”
She nodded, eyes stinging, and leaned back.
One corner of his mouth lifted as he gazed into her eyes. “You’re such a softie.”
She frowned. “I’m just not used to, you know, sweet stuff.”
“Sweet stuff? Are you calling me sweet stuff?” He pulled out his wallet and removed a business card, holding it up. “Can somebody take my man card?”
She laughed. “Put that away!”
He grinned and tucked it back in his wallet.
“To answer your question, yes, Sabrina’s single. You thinking of Logan? They do have lunch together sometimes. He’s single, right?”
“Yeah.” He shoved his wallet back in his pocket and gave her a wry look. “Have you heard her laugh at his stupid jokes? What woman laughs at a Monsters, Inc. impression—” he made his voice high and scratchy “—‘I’m watching you, Wazowski, always watching.’ Seriously, no woman in her right mind would think that was funny unless she was into him.”
She cocked her head. “Well, if it’s a good impression—”
“It’s a kids’ movie!”
She thought about her friend. “Sabrina’s kind of an expert on relationships. She’s helped so many people find their way to satisfying relationships in her counseling practice. If she hasn’t given him the signal, it’s because she doesn’t think he’s a good match for her relationship-wise.”
“Wazowski,” he returned, as if that said everything.
“Hmm…well, he is really hot with that beard.” She lifted a hand at his scowl. “And I say that objectively. It’s simply a fact most women would agree on. I’ll refrain from listing the rest of his hot features, but, trust me, he’s got ’em. Maybe she finds that intimidating.”
Ben pursed his lips. “That fucking beard. I told him to shave it. Hipster wannabe.”
“He doesn’t have sexy dimples to show off like you.”
He rubbed his stubbled jaw. “You like that?”
She smiled. “Yeah, I do.”
“My grandmother says they make me look like a cutie patootie.”
She burst out laughing.
“Of course, that’s just when she wants to butter me up,” he added, which made her laugh more. “Alright, that’s enough. Geez, pull yourself together.”
Luckily, the samosas arrived and she was able to calm down again.
Ben lifted one. “Now tell me something about Missy, or the samosa gets it.”
“The samosa gets it.”
He took a bite. “No sympathy for the plight of this fried bit of heaven, eh?”
She took a bite and chewed. “I’m not sure what you want to know.”
“Anything. It’s like pulling teeth with you.”
“Okay, okay, my favorite color is green, I don’t like sweets except cherry vanilla ice cream, I love snow, and my absolute favorite movie is The Terminator.”
His brows scrunched together. “You like guy movies?”
“There’s no such thing as a guy movie or a girl movie. It’s just a movie and I like it.”
“That’s not really your favorite. You’re just saying that because you’re with me. You probably tell your friends you like a chick flick.”
“It really is!”
“Why?” he asked, his voice full of challenge.
“Because she’s a total badass doing everything she can to save her son,” she fired back.
He gazed at her with deep affection before finally saying, “Thank you.”
She looked away, embarrassed for some reason. “No big,” she muttered, taking another bite of samosa.
Ben must’ve sensed her discomfort because he didn’t press for any more information, instead making her laugh with stories of growing up with the Campbells and the other guys who’d been taken under Mr. Campbell’s wing for one reason or another. Her favorite story was when a hulking teen-aged Marcus took in a tiny white kitten he called Bitty Kitty, hiding it in his jacket pocket, trying hard to cover up the occasional meow by fake sneezing. She could just imagine Marcus with a kitten in his big paw. The best part of the story, though, was Ben helping Marcus out by bringing the kitten to Ben’s grandmother, promising Marcus full visitation rights. Marcus couldn’t keep the kitten at his apartment since they weren’t allowed to have pets. Apparently, Marcus had visited Ben’s grandmother for years, bonding over their shared love for Bitty. It spoke to Ben’s deeply compassionate nature, even as a teenager, that he stepped in to help Marcus find a way to keep his kitten.
After dinner, Ben drove her home, both of them quiet. The radio was on, soft Christmas carols playing in the background. Full and content, she never wanted the night to end. He’d shared quite a bit of his life growing up, and it made her feel close to him.
“I grew up in California,” she blurted in an attempt to share like he had.
He glanced at her. “Okay,” he said slowly.
“That’s why I love snow. It’s still new for me, and it feels like a miracle every time. Soft magic falling from the sky, making everything shiny and new.”
“Never thought about it quite like that. It was great as a kid, especially getting the day off school. Now it’s just there, something to shovel and clear.”
“You’re lucky you grew up with it. You probably got to go sledding, make a snowman, have snowball fights.”
“Snowball fights are the best. Next snowstorm, we’ll have a snowball fight.”
She found herself smiling. “Awesome.” She liked the way he talked about “next time” with her. Like he wanted to stick around for a while. “When we get to my place, why don’t you come up?”
“Way ahead of you, Missy. I come prepared. Condom in my pocket.”
She laughed. “Just one?”
“Three, actually. I’ve been fantasizing about you for an excruciatingly long time. Basically since the last time.”
Her stomach did a topsy-turvy flip. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh. First time might be fast and furious, but then I want to slow things down. If you could just keep from going animal on me—”
“Animal!” she cried.
“You’re like wrestling a sexy alligator, all claws and snapping teeth, rolling around with me.”
She burst out laughing. “You really need to work on your compliments. First I’m an Irish setter, then I’m an alligator?”
“I call ’em like I see ’em.”
“I just like what I like.”
“I like what you like too. But I think we can manage a slow fuck, sort of build to a monster orgasm.”
“Yes,” she breathed. “That sounds good.”
“I so want to finger bang you right now, but it’s dark and I should focus on driving.”
She whimpered, drenched with desire.
“Like the dirty talk, huh? I got plenty.”
“Hold that thought. You’re driving me crazy and I’ve got to wait for at least a twenty-minute drive.”
That only encouraged him. He kept up the dirty talk, telling her everything he wanted to do to her, every fantasy he’d had about her, making her ache with need.
This had to happen fast.