Falling Angel (30 page)

“You really are rude,” Ben said.

“Incorrigible,” Cara agreed.

Ben crossed to the cupboard above the fridge and extracted a bottle of whisky, which he held aloft. “This calls for a celebratory drink. You could definitely use one, Cara. You’re still shaking, poor baby.”

“And what, exactly, are we celebrating?” Alicia snapped.

“Cara’s lucky landing, for one.”

“What about the success of your show?” Alicia said. “And a safe journey to Paris?”

“We’ll toast the lot of it.” Ben poured three generous drinks and raised his glass, his eyes fixed on Cara. “Here’s to us.”

“To soft landings and happy endings,” Cara said.

“I hope this isn’t the end,” Ben said.

In the silence that followed, Alicia slammed down her glass. “I have to go.”

Cara pressed her lips together and looked down. Alicia was surprised to see no glint of triumph in her eyes. Was she so naïve that she didn’t even realize she had won? Alicia sneered at her. She despised people who lacked her own competitive instinct.

Her contempt allowed her to hold her head up high and smile as she said goodbye.

“I’ll walk you out,” Ben said.

In the hall, he helped her into her fur-lined coat.

“Are you in love with her?” Alicia asked.

As Ben took a breath, she raised her forefinger to touch his mouth. “No. Don’t tell me.” She leaned forward, kissed him lightly on the lips and turned to leave. “
Bon voyage
, Ben.”

“You’re a very special woman,” Ben began.

“Oh, stop. I don’t need your pity.”

Ben sighed. “Good night, Alicia.”

.   .   .

Alicia left, the scent of her exotic perfume trailing behind her. Ben shook his head. If he lived to be a hundred, he’d never figure Alicia out. Her moves and motivations were quite simply beyond him. No doubt she’d be a formidable opponent in a poker game.

When he returned to the kitchen, Cara was gone.

Ben’s stomach lurched at the thought that she had once again performed her disappearing act. He stared at the open window, the sheer curtain gently puffing in the breeze. Was it possible she had departed the same way she came in? Even though the thought was absurd, he walked over to the window and looked out. As he had expected, the fire escape was empty, except for a pair of black women’s shoes placed neatly side by side on the platform. Ben walked quickly through to the living room, but there was no sign of her. He turned to go back down the hall when the bathroom door opened and she came out, smelling of soap, her tangled hair damped down and finger-combed.

“My hands were filthy, from the ledge,” she said. “And my hair is a crow’s nest . . .”

Crossing the small gap that divided them, Ben pulled her into his arms. “You look great,” he said. Cara slid her arms around his neck.

Without further preamble, he carried her to the bedroom.

As he opened the door with one foot, a shaft of light slanted through the darkened room, falling across the simple wooden bed. Gently, he set Cara down. She pulled her shirt over her head and slipped out of her skirt. Ben moved forward and unfastened her bra. With strong, sure hands, he pulled her panties down to her ankles and she stepped out of them.

She stood still, watching him as his gaze traveled slowly over her body. While her wide blue eyes and serene expression gave nothing away, her state of arousal was betrayed by the sharp rise and fall of her chest as she breathed in and out with quick, shallow breaths. Ben took in her ethereally pale complexion, her long neck and rounded breasts with their pink nipples standing at attention in the cool night air. The outline of her ribs was visible beneath the smooth skin of her torso. Her pelvic bones slanted down to the triangle of gold between her legs.

He knew he had never wanted another woman as much as he wanted her. He took a step toward her, and stopped. “Cara,” he said in a voice thick with desire. He had to be sure that she was ready, that she wanted him with the same intensity that he wanted her. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“I’m sure,” she said quietly. “No promises, no guarantees. All we have is now.”

With a single stride, Ben stood before her. He kissed her lips, then kneeled, caressing and kissing her every curve.

After a few minutes Cara pulled him up and began to unbutton his shirt. She ran her cool hands across his bare skin until he groaned. His lips bore down on her hot, open mouth. Grasping her waist, he moved them both toward the bed. Cara sank down upon it, her golden hair across her face, smiling sweetly at him like one of Botticelli’s angels. As they lay down together, all thoughts of past and future were obliterated by the visceral contact of flesh on flesh and the passionate fusion of their two bodies into one.

.    .     .

Cara lay nestled in the crook of Ben’s arm, tracing crazy eights on his taut stomach with a lazy finger.  

From the CD player, Mick Jagger crooned the lyrics to one of her favorite songs:

You can’t always get what you want

You can’t always get what you want

But if you try sometimes

You just might find you get what you need.

“Are you asleep?” she whispered.

“No,” he murmured into her hair.  

“What time is your flight?”

“Eight. The taxi will be here,” he glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table, “in about five hours.”

“I should go. Let you get some rest.”

His grip on her tightened. “Don’t even think of running out on me again. You’re staying here until I leave.” He drew her closer to him. “Better yet, why not stay till I get back? Keep the bed warm for me.”

Cara smiled. He kissed her, and her eyes fluttered shut for an instant. He pulled her closer, and she put a hand against his chest. “Be serious.”

“I am. I want you here.”

“You just want me around to provide comic relief,” she teased. “Your court jester.”

“No,” he said. “I want a lot more than that.”

Cara closed her eyes as Ben gave her a long and languorous kiss. She put a hand to his face.

“I’m falling in love with you,” he said.

Cara glanced at him, and then looked down at the intricately embroidered Kente cloth quilt that covered the bed. “Me too,” she whispered.

“Then say it!” Startled by the urgency in his voice, she met his fierce gaze.

“I love you, Ben Kilpatrick!” she said, and burst into tears. Sitting up, she hid her face behind her hair as she sniffed and sobbed. Ben put his arm round her shaking shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “This isn’t like me. I’m just so . . . so scared.”

He smoothed the hair away from her face. “Cara, I’m not out to hurt you. I’ve been thinking a lot about what’s happened between us. You’re not the only one who’s been sending mixed messages. I want to be straight with you. I will be from now on. Okay?”

She smiled at him through her tears. “Okay. Then can you tell me what’s going on with you and Alicia?”

“Alicia and I are friends, that’s all. Any physical relationship we may have had was over a long time ago.”

“Why was she here tonight?”

“I’m using some of her work as an example of contemporary American art in one of my seminars in Paris. She came over to discuss some of the digital photos I plan to incorporate into my PowerPoint presentation.”

“Does she know you don’t have feelings for her any more?”

Ben frowned. “She should. I’ve never indicated anything to the contrary.” He got up and returned with a box of tissues, which Cara took from him gratefully. She blew her nose loudly and smiled at him through her tears.

“My turn now. What about you and Banker Boy?”

“You mean David?” Cara plucked another tissue from the box and dabbed her eyes. “I so much wanted him to be the right person for me. He had everything I had convinced myself I wanted in a mate. We went out a couple of times. Nothing serious at all.”

“No passionate make-out sessions on the beach?”

“Nothing like that. In fact, each time we saw each other, I couldn’t help thinking about you. How much more deeply you and I connected, and how much more fun we had. I guess heads and hearts don’t always work in harmony. The night you saw us together at the restaurant, I’d left my ring in the bathroom. Another patron returned it to me. David looked at it and then slipped it on to my finger. That’s all.” She held up her hand. “This is the ring, right here. My father gave it to me when I was a child.”

“Remember how you accused me of stalking you?”

Cara turned red. “I’m sorry. That was awful of me.”

“No, no. You were absolutely right. When I heard you were out with another guy I drove downtown like a crazy man. When I saw you in there with what’s his name, I felt sick. It was all I could do not to run in there, club him, and drag you out by your hair!”

Cara laughed at his indignant face. “David said he saw someone staring in the window at us. He said there was a madman outside, looking at me as though he wanted to kill me.”

“I wouldn’t have felt that way if I didn’t care.”

“I guess not.” Cara traced the line of his jaw with her finger. “I wish I hadn’t put you through that.”

Ben kissed her. “I forgive you,” he said, “if you’ll forgive me for being such a caveman.”

“I happen to have a thing for cavemen,” Cara said.

Ben’s stomach growled, and they looked at each other. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he said.

“Absolutely,” Cara said. “I’m ravenous.” And she was, for the first time in what felt like weeks.

Wrapped in Ben’s robe, Cara followed him into the kitchen where they heated up some canned minestrone soup. Ben found the heel of a baguette and a half-bottle of Shiraz to go with it. They ate side by side at the counter.

“So, tell me, Miss Walker,” Ben said over a mouthful of bread. “Could it be true that in spite of my dubious choice of career and unstable financial footing, you’ve decided to take a chance on me?”

Cara tore off a hunk of bread and popped it into her mouth. “Honestly Ben, I don’t care about the money. I have my own career. I don’t need to depend on anyone else. I love you, and that’s what’s important.”

“That’s very noble of you,” Ben said. A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.