“What kind of question is that?” Jillian scrambled up from the floor and leaned against the granite countertop.

No wonder he thought so little of her. She’d been throwing herself at him since she set foot in the pro shop yesterday morning. And he wasn’t that far off base when it came to her. Jillian never went further than a first date and a peck on the cheek with any of the dates for her column. But she wanted more from Ben.

“I don’t mean to offend you, I just can’t get a handle on what’s going on.” Ben sprang to his feet, but kept the length of the counter between them.

“What’s going on?” Jillian knew she sounded like an impertinent child, repeating his question. But he’d ruined the moment. Sitting on the floor with him she’d actually thought that maybe— It didn’t matter. “I’m here to do a piece on how the golf course is the new singles bar. I told you that. After the mixer at Crosslands tonight I should have enough to finish.”

“You’re leaving early? I thought you were staying until Saturday.” Was that disappointment she saw in his eyes?

“I’m not leaving. I’m just done with trying to golf. I’m taking that storm as a sign from the heavens that I’m much better suited for indoor activities.”

“You’re getting better, Jillian. Really.” The corners of his mouth turned up, but just his mouth. His eyes and forehead stayed the same. A fake smile.

He either had no idea she was flirting with him, or he did know and didn’t want to embarrass her. Had he flirted earlier out of pity? She waved her hand, dismissing his comment and the negative thought. At this point she’d take a pity kiss. Just to prove that what she held onto was a fantasy, a creation of her overactive imagination.

Ben stepped closer, finally within touching distance. “We’ll give it another shot tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow I need to hire a taxi. Or rent a town car, though that could get expensive.”

“Where do you need to go?”

“Toledo.” Leaning closer, Jillian took a deep breath, memorizing the way rain and grass smelled on him. “My mom wants me to come home for the day.”

“Toledo’s east of Newport, right?” He didn’t back away. If anything he moved closer. “It’s only an hour from here. You can borrow one of my cars. Lucky for you I have quite the collection at my disposal.” His lips quirked, but his eyes smiled bright.

“You collect dogs and cars?” Would he let her flirt back now?

“Nah, just dogs. I have a Jeep you could use, but I’ve also got the keys to Jay’s truck, and all three of my parents’ cars. If I were you, I’d take Dad’s Corvette. You could get there in half an hour.”

“Oh, I couldn’t.” Jillian’s heart palpitated at the very thought of driving that fast.

“Sure you could.”

“No, you’re very generous. But you don’t understand. I’m a terrible driver. Every time I drive a car, I run it into something. Inanimate objects so far, but I don’t want to take my chances. I haven’t been behind the wheel since I moved east.”

“Inanimate objects?” Ben raised an eyebrow, his fingers inching closer to hers along the countertop.

“Curbs, trash cans, mail boxes, trees, the house—that sort of thing.” Jillian felt the heat coming off his hand. What would he do with it?

“You hit a house?”

“In broad daylight.”

“Okay, so I’ll drive you.”

“Really, I doubt Cannon Meadows’ concierge service includes a personal chauffeur. I’m sure the front desk has a list of services I can call.”

“You’re really not going to take any more lessons?” Ben cocked his head to the side and studied her so intently she felt as if she’d sprouted a second head.

“No. I got what I need for the piece.”

“Well, if I’m not your instructor then my rule about not flirting with students wouldn’t apply.” His fingers snuck next to hers so gently she wanted to check and see if they were really there. But she wouldn’t look away.

“You’ve been flirting with me, you just won’t let me flirt back.” Why is that?

“Semantics. I’ll drive you. If you’re done with the resort it can be one hour each way of non-stop flirting. We’ll both get our fill.” His thumb caressed the back of her hand, sending electric waves up her arm and down her spine.

“Oh.” Jillian forced herself to think, to speak, and not lunge at him the way she wanted to. “I’ll be finished with the dating piece, but I called an editor this morning about doing a feature about the two resorts. Comparing and contrasting how the two can coexist successfully.”

Ben pulled his hand away as if she’d bitten it. “Why would you do that?”

“Because it interests me. I write about what I want to know about. I’m more than just the Dating Diva. I get an ear to pitch features at all the magazines the parent company of Mine & Ours owns.”

“You want to write about Crosslands and Cannon Meadows? Some kind of exposé?” Ben was no longer smiling, his emotions unreadable on his face.

“Nothing like that. I entertain to inform. Hard-edged journalism is just about informing. I’m here, the photographer is coming anyway.” Why was he so bothered by this? She hadn’t thought of his reaction, but she never imagined he’d be like this. “Who knows, she might not like the idea. It’s free publicity. Be pleased. Angela was ecstatic when I mentioned the idea to her.”

“You’ve been talking with Angela?” He stepped closer, his eyes widening in alarm. So close she felt the tension radiating from him. “What for?”

“Golf-course dating? You haven’t been forthcoming with your thoughts, and she hosts mixers. Why are you mad?” He had no right to expect anything from her. No right to be looking at her with that intimidating clench to his jaw.

“I don’t need any bad publicity. Not right now.” He stalked closer still, prowling like a cat. She couldn’t move if she’d wanted to.

“Why?” Jillian swallowed hard, trying to portray nonchalance. “Is something wrong with the resort?”

“No, it’s fine, and it needs to stay that way.” His voice was gravelly, almost a growl that hitched her breath. Made her all too aware she was completely alone with him. She didn’t even know where they were, really. His hands slid next to hers on the counter, then glided over the top with just enough pressure to hold them in place.

His gaze locked with hers. He stared straight into her eyes with an intensity that nearly buckled her knees. The attention made her feel fragile, womanly, powerful. All her life she’d wanted someone to look at her that way.

A look that felt like a proposition. More tempting than she’d dreamed, yet something scary buzzed around him. Ben Cannon was more dangerous than she’d ever considered.

Her stomach constricted as her breaths got shorter and shorter. She knew this feeling. This was the panic that made her run that night. And he’d barely touched her.

“Sit on the counter.”

Questioning, protesting was not an option. What would she be fighting anyway? His hands stayed on hers as she pushed herself up; his stare made it impossible to break eye contact. Barely on the counter, his hands skimmed her thighs, pushing the shirt up to her hips.

“You smell so good.” His face brushed against hers when he leaned forward. She could hear him, feel him, smelling her hair. Yet she knew that wasn’t what he meant at all.

Jillian closed her eyes and tried to think. Maybe she could if she didn’t get lost in his eyes again. That look was the one she saw in her fantasies. The ones where she’d beg him. Which was sounding like a better idea every second.

She pressed her knees together, trying to wrap her head around just what was going on, just how he was making her wetter than the rain.

His hands splayed over her hips, his thumbs brushing back and forth over her hipbones. A shiver went from her hip, up her spine, then back down until it vibrated between her legs. He knew what he was doing to her, he had to know.

Parting her legs slightly, Jillian leaned closer to him, breathing against his ear. “Kiss me.”

Taking advantage of her position, Ben parted her legs completely and pushed his body inside, pulling her to the edge of the counter and against him. Still, he kept his face right by her ear, his mouth out of reach.

“Where?” The word floated through her spinning brain.

She knew exactly what he meant, what she wanted to say in response. But could she? Did she dare?

“Did you change your mind?” His face nuzzled into her hair. She felt his breath against the skin behind her ear. How could his breathing raise the level of sexual intensity?

Jillian shook her head a fraction of an inch, not wanting to move from the position. She licked her lips, readying to taste his again. Would he remember? It unnerved her to think that he already did.

The soft whisper of his laugh electrified her skin. His thumbs circled her hipbones again, then slipped under the edge of the lace panties she wore. Black lace that matched the damp bra she’d been too nervous to remove. Did she want him to see?

“Just a kiss, please.” Begging. And she didn’t care. She’d explode if he didn’t kiss her, detonate if he tried anything more.

She kept her eyes closed, reveling in the sensations. He threaded a hand through her hair, then fisted it against the nape of her neck. He pulled, tilting her chin, parting her lips. She could taste his breath, but she wanted more. So much more.

His lips grazed hers, gentle only for the briefest moment. He captured her mouth like he owned it. A wet slide that intoxicated her until her mind shut off. She couldn’t think, only feel. Every woman should be kissed like this. Often.

His tongue hungrily invaded her mouth, artfully seducing her entire body. Jillian did not even try to match his bruising fervor. There would have been no point. This kiss was hers to enjoy. She’d made her claim on him long ago.

His hand traveled up from her hip, finding her lace-clad breast with ease. There was no way he could miss how her nipple strained against the lace, reaching for his touch. Her own moaning crashed about her ears. The kiss, the feel of his hand on her breast, the absence of it when he released her, the pressure of his hand on her hip, pulling her against him. He’d know how on fire she was. For him.

She could hear it, the barking growing nearer and nearer. But it still seemed far away, in another world when he pulled away. Completely. His lips, hands, body, all gone. Her eyes flew open, their gazes locking immediately. The rustle at the back door and beeping of the alarm brought her to her senses enough to close her legs and slide off the counter. Careful as she tried to stand.

Ben’s eyes narrowed and she felt him changing, thinking. Did he know? Would he care? With a shake of his head he spun and stalked to the other side of the kitchen.

Ben pulled open the refrigerator. Jilly could see a lone quart of milk on the shelf, and ketchup in the door. He really must have just moved in. He slammed the door, making her back farther against the counter. What was he thinking?

Before she could ask the dogs were upon them, the teenagers chatting with Ben about a house they’d seen being built along the walk.

Jillian slipped out of the kitchen and into the laundry room. She held the doorknob still as she closed the door in silence, turned and sank against it to the floor. Rogue’s cold nose was against her cheek before she realized she wasn’t alone. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, wishing he were Duchess who would surely understand exactly how she felt. Tears stung at her eyes, but she refused them.

She’d gotten her kiss, what she came for. Now she knew. It wasn’t a fantasy. It was him. Her body, her soul would accept no substitutes.

* * *

The cool wood of the door pressed against his forehead. How did she do that? He got within three feet of her and he couldn’t control himself. If the dogs hadn’t come home when they did he’d have —

He just didn’t behave this way. Not ever. Well, once. But he’d long ago written that off as alcohol related. He hadn’t had a drink since.

In college he’d been infatuated with a pretty green-eyed brunette he could always find in the stands at his games. Even away games. She was always there. He didn’t even have to look hard, his gaze would land on her instinctively. He never saw her anywhere but in those stands, fueling his fantasies that she was nothing more than a figment of his imagination.

Then one night she was right in front of him at a party. Right there. He didn’t think he’d even said a word to her before she kissed him. A soul-shattering kiss that erased all those before it. And damned near ruined him for anything else since.

Until today. Jillian couldn’t be more different than his fantasy woman. She had been soft and round, creamy skin and dark curly hair, and the most amazing green eyes. Jillian was tanned and toned, a little too thin, stylized and manicured. They couldn’t be more different. But still her kiss had reverberated with that memory. He couldn’t let that feeling get away again. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. But he’d have to. She was leaving on Saturday night.

Ben opened and closed his fingers against the smooth wood of the door. He couldn’t hear a thing inside the laundry room. If he hadn’t watched her scamper in there he’d have sworn she just evaporated.

“Jillian?” The door thudded beneath him and he stepped back. He could picture her sitting on the floor, her head leaning against the door. It opened in. If she was sitting against it he couldn’t even open it and drag her out.

“Just a sec.” Her voice sounded hoarse, strained. Had she been crying? Why would she do that? Had he pushed her too far?

He listened intently, to the dryer door opening and slamming shut, to Rogue’s sniffing, her hopping against the tile, the phone ringing behind him.

He dashed to the base on the counter, noticing the time on the clock on the microwave. He was late. He was never late. People were going to talk.

Reassuring his assistant he’d be in the office for the staff briefing in five minutes, Ben marched back to the laundry-room door.

“Jillian? I’m late for a meeting. You can stay, I’ll only be an hour.” Or two. But if she stayed he’d make it an hour.

The door opened with a whoosh. Jillian’s reddened eyes widened in surprise. Where did she expect him to be?

She’d put her clothes back on, though they were still damp. Her lips were swollen, freshly kissed, making him want to start the whole thing over again. People were going to talk anyway, best to give them something to really talk about. Maybe if he made enough of a spectacle Jay would come home just to watch.

“I need to get back. I have to change before the party and go over my notes. I want to make sure I get everything I need so I can get the column out and back to my editor. And I need to arrange for the town car.”

“I’ll take you home. I’m in the mood for Mo’s clam chowder anyway.” And he needed to be with her, to figure out what it was she was doing that made him act this way.

“That’s just because you’re hungry.” Finally she smiled, her expression returning to one he recognized. She slid around him, back through the kitchen and into the mudroom. Inspecting her shoes with a finger, she scowled.

“They probably won’t dry out for a day or two,” Ben offered, slipping into a pair of shoes identical to his soaked pair, except brown.

Jillian shrugged and reached for the wet socks.

“Don’t put them on.” Ben looked around the room. Why didn’t he own a pair of slippers?

“It’ll only be for a few minutes. We can’t be far from the lodge. Are we?”

“Two minutes, three if we get caught at the stoplight. Come on.” He reached for her.

“I still need to get to the car, and then to my room.” She reached for the shoes again, but instead he grabbed her hand, yanking her to her feet.

If only he didn’t have a room full of people waiting. Ben pulled her into his arms with little effort, her brown eyes sparkling with excitement.

“What are you going to do? Carry me all the way to my room?” She laughed, laying her head back and wrapping her arms around his neck. She was infectiously happy, making him smile too. “I need my shoes.”

Maybe he would carry her all the way to her room. Moving would help the discomfort in his groin. And then he wouldn’t have to put her down.