A Delicious Mistake (15 page)

Insecurity
ate at her like a poison. She climbed into the shower and scrubbed, and told
herself Benjamin could not have possibly faked his passion. But maybe she
wasn’t the only woman he’d ever taken like that. A man like him must have lots
of women hanging around—and what better way to get her and her accusations off
his back than to make her fall for him.

Just
how could she have allowed herself to be seduced so easily? Whatever happened
to her hard-won control?

Benjamin Ndlovo happened
,
her inner voice spat, mocking her cruelly.

Everything
about him had fascinated her. She loved his voice—deep, compelling, hypnotic, and
yet so soft and gentle when it was needed. His control amazed her—so seductive
and tempting her to wanton acts of sensual abandon. His touch excited her—his
long, fine fingers, dark and cool on her pale, burning skin. His hands combing
through her hair could hold her captive. Benjamin was dreamy and yet dangerous
as he stripped away her walls, leaving her exposed so he might discover every
inch of her.

The
truth was, she realized, she felt vulnerable to him. And she wasn’t sure that
was a good thing.

Exhausted
from the turmoil within, she still couldn't draw her mind away from the thrills
that lingered from the night before. Naked from her shower, she lay on her bed.
Her much too vivid imagination kept betraying her, putting her back in that
fire-lit room. On the warm, simple sheets she remembered the tranquil silence
of the night, crackling with sexual electricity. She remembered hushed moments
disturbed only by the wild pounding of her heart, which so well matched the
beat of Benjamin's.

Closing
her eyes, she let the memories take her back until she was right there
underneath Benjamin, naked not just in body but also in the inescapable
revealing of her soul. Benjamin's passion had made her feel decadent, sensual,
and fearless. A goddess ensnared by her own desires—a sweetly given sacrifice.
Bathed in the sensual glow of the fire, their bodies had moved in mutual
pleasure. That hadn’t been a lie. Sarah could still remember the strains of
almost-heard music on the soft African breeze blowing in from the small window
as Benjamin’s deep, languid strokes in and out of her made time stand still.

Yet,
beneath the coupling of flesh and passion, there had still been that edge, that
sense of peril. Was Benjamin a devil disguised as a hero? Was he just too good
to be true? Now that he was cleared of murder and had no need of a Hutton for a
friend, would he again treat her as just an old friend’s sister? Her heart
ached to trust Benjamin—to go to him and keep giving him everything she was.
But what if she lost herself in him—and in Africa?

She
knew her life was changing and it was all just too fast. She needed to step
back and make sure she wasn’t making a terrible mistake here. She didn’t want
to go home to England with a broken heart—she was on the verge of not wanting
to go back at all. But some part of her clung to the idea that she had to be
certain. She wasn’t like Luke. He had always known what he wanted and he went
for it. She had to make certain she wasn’t going to end up living alone and
abandoned while Benjamin went onto the next girl who caught his interest. She
couldn’t bear to stay and watch that. But what place did she have here? What
was she to him?

Sarah
wondered if she still really still wanted to find out what was really going
on—with the poachers, with Benjamin, with everything and everyone. Perhaps she
had reached a point where she was too scared of the truth. And yet, she knew
that she owed it to Luke and to herself to seek out the whole truth. If she had
any sense, she would never let her affair with Benjamin continue past the one
night of recklessness that they had shared. It was only a physical thing, after
all. At least so far. If she let it go on she knew she’d fall for him—she
almost had. Now that she had gotten her physical attraction for him out of her
system, perhaps she would be able to actually focus on what really mattered.
What really mattered was that Luke’s killers, now that they had been caught,
were prosecuted. And she would see if Benjamin was someone who mattered to
her—and if she really mattered to him.

As
she rested her head against the soft pillows on her bed, her eyes closed.
Depleted by her thoughts and exhausted by the long night and the morning's
agitation, she finally fell asleep. For once, she did not dream.

* * *

               
To Benjamin, Sarah’s inexplicable withdrawal over the next few days was
confusing. He had thought she would be happy about the news that had spread
like wildfire. Even the Tanzanian press had had a field day with the arrest of
a major gang of poachers. Benjamin just couldn’t understand Sarah’s
contradictory response to him. The night they had shared had left him so sure
they had managed to speak the same language. Without words, their needs had
flowed freely in song and dance, passionate and unquestionable.

However,
it seemed a lot of questions lingered between them—secrets, even. Undoubtedly,
Sarah wasn’t being straight with him. What could she possibly have to hide? She
thwarted every attempt he made to see her alone, and he couldn’t say to her
what he wanted to say with others around. She always had something else to do
and somewhere else she needed to be. It was almost as if that night between
them had never happened, like it was nothing but a figment of his imagination.

Finally,
he was fed up enough to seek her out in the library at the house, which Luke
had also turned into his office. Benjamin walked in and shut the door behind
him.

From
behind the desk, Sarah looked up from some papers. She sighed when she saw him.
“Benjamin,” she said sounding all too detached. She didn’t look at all happy to
see him.

“I
know, you have a lot to do,” he said dryly. “Well, as it happens, for your
information, so do I. But how long are you going to keep avoiding me?”

“It’s
called being busy,” she told him. She sounded too much like the prim English
girl she had seemed when he saw her after she returned to Africa.

She
shuffled some papers and placed them inside a desk drawer, locking it with a
key. She rose to go over to one of the shelves and pulled out a record book.
She flicked through the pages with studied concentration.

Despite
his best effort to stay stern, Benjamin’s lips twitched. He found himself
tempted to put her across his knee and spank some sense into her. Instead, he drew
in a deep breath. “To me, it looks more like you’re running away.”

Sarah
faced him squarely, her green eyes blazing. “What would I be running away from
exactly?”

Benjamin
walked forward. She froze. He didn’t stop, not till he stood a mere few inches
away from her. He looked down at her beautiful face. “You tell me. What is it
about you and me that scares you so much?”

“That’s
just it. There is no ‘you and me.’” A pink blush stole over her throat and
cheekbones. “That one night happened, end of story. I should never have let
myself get sidetracked.”

Benjamin
flinched as though she had just slapped him. “You shared a gift with me that
you had never given to anyone else. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

Sarah
lifted her chin. “There is no question that you’re quite skilled at seduction.
It would have been downright impossible to resist you. But it was a one-off
event that I have no intention of repeating. I came here on a mission, not to
be your nightly amusement. So you should put it behind you, as I have.”

“Have
you, really?” Benjamin asked. He lifted one eyebrow.

As
he watched, a pulse began to beat like soft dove wings underneath the white,
delicate skin of her throat. She fidgeted with the record book in her hands.
Beneath the thin white cotton T-shirt that she wore tucked into her blue jeans,
Sarah’s nipples visibly hardened. He stepped closer so she would feel the heat
of his body—the heat she drew from him.

Benjamin
drew in a sharp breath, taking in her scent. It filled him with vivid memories
of a lush oasis of palm trees and lily-strewn streams. His gaze fastened on her
lips, which parted as soft pants began to escape her. He moved closer. In
response, she backed into the bookshelf behind her. He closed the gap between
them and gripped the ledge of the bookcase on either side of her head. Trapped
against him, her expression looked a mixture of anger and arousal.

Why does she hate so much to want me?
What is it about us that is so wrong in her eyes?

“You
are far more than a pleasant pastime, Sarah, I think you know that,” he said
softly, his gaze never wavering from hers. “Something tells me you can feel
that this can be something much, much more. You wouldn’t have been able to
surrender yourself to me if you didn’t trust me.”

Sarah
swallowed. He saw her throat work. She wet her lips with the pink tip of her
tongue and it took all his control not to lean down and grab that tongue with
his lips and pull it into his own mouth. In a voice not quite steady, she said,
“I may not be able to govern my body’s responses to yours, but I can’t bring
myself to think you’re really as perfect as you seem. What are you really made
of, Benjamin? What is it you have to hide?”

Benjamin
grinned. “You think I’ve got some skeleton in my closet? Is that why you’ve
been acting so suspicious of me ever since you’ve arrived? First you blamed me
for Luke’s death. Now even with the culprits apprehended nothing seems to have
changed for you. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you
wanted
me to be guilty.”

Sarah
flushed red. She pulled as far away as she could, but the movement pushed out
the curves of her up-tilted breasts so they almost brushing Benjamin’s shirted
chest. He drew in a sharp breath.

“I
just want the truth,” Sarah said, her voice more breathy than usual. “Is that
too much to ask?”

Benjamin’s
eyes darkened at her words. The truth? What could she possibly mean by that?
“Sarah, I…” He let the words drift off because he didn’t know what to tell her.

His
studied her face for some clue about what she wanted—that pert button of a
nose, those kissable lips, her jewel-like green eyes, the soft wave in her long
auburn hair that made his fingers itch to run through those silky locks. For a
moment, his head pounded with the memory of the night they shared. It seemed to
have happened a lifetime ago.

“What
I’m asking,” Benjamin said quietly, “is for you to tell me what you’re thinking
and feeling. Don’t lock it all inside.” He straightened and let his hands fall
away. “Whenever you are ready to talk, I’ll be here. You don’t have to ever
feel alone.”

He
held her gaze for one moment longer. He thought he saw a flicker of need
shimmer in the emerald depths of her eyes before she averted her gaze and
looked away, her breathing rapid and shallow.

Quelling
a harsh sigh, Benjamin turned and quickly exited.

Once
he was gone, Sarah sank back against the bookshelf.

She
put a shaking hand to her chest. Her body went limp as the breath rushed from
her. She couldn’t stop thinking about the tortured look on Benjamin’s handsome
face, nor about how his voice had been husky with emotion. Could she dare to
set aside her lingering doubts? Could she even contemplate telling him all her
worries and demand to know if he loved her?

What
if he said yes?

Sarah
drew in a deep breath and shook off the slight tremors that still racked her
body from the close contact with Benjamin. Whenever he was near, it made it so
hard for her to think. He was the only man she had ever allowed to get passed
all her barriers. He had broken them down and claimed her with his passion.
Ever since then, she had felt partially undone. Her feelings for him terrified
her.

Abandoning
the library, she sought the solace and privacy of her bedroom. She paced the
humid, rich night away with tireless footsteps. Her body taut, her nipples
tight and urgent, she tried not to give into the memory of Benjamin’s masculine
scent which still filled her nostrils. She was used to being so much more in
control. Yet each night, her body would betray her, thundering with an aching,
yearning desire just to have him close. She longed for his strength as much as
to once again experience his sexual mastery.

Her
neediness was a weakness she could not bear to give in to. She couldn’t
surrender to the spiraling, urgent craving that teased her. She had to be wise.
Much as her heart might pound when she thought of how near he was, she never
sought him out, not even when her nights grew loaded with decadent shivers. The
wild rush of blood would pound inside her, and she knew if she went to his hut,
she could spend the night warmed by his powerfully encompassing arms.

But
then what?

That
question now tormented her.

What
if she kept going to him, again and again? It would be passion at first, and then
it would be a hopeless love. She wanted him to confide in her, but if she told
him how she felt he could use that against her. Why couldn’t she bring herself
to trust him with her heart as she had her body?

But
she’d been brought up a proper English girl. Emotions weren’t shown—passion
such as this wasn’t expressed and shouldn’t even be felt. Somehow Africa was
getting into her blood as it had with Luke—and look where that had led him?