Only By Your Touch (10 page)

“Now I’ve upset you. Kids aren’t quite as reticent as they should be sometimes. If it’s any consolation, I admire you for getting Jeremy out of it. I know that took a lot of guts.”

With every word he said, Chloe felt more uncomfortable. “I, um—thank you for saving Rowdy, Mr. Longtree.”

“Ben,” he corrected.

“And for stopping by to deliver the news in person, too. It was thoughtful.”

“My pleasure, and you’re very welcome.”

Chloe released the railing. “It doesn’t seem like enough, just saying thank you. It would have cost me the better part of a thousand dollars for treatment at the clinic, possibly more with complications. You’ve saved me a lot of money.”

“There aren’t many people who’d hock an heirloom to save a mutt. When I meet someone who will, I take
my hat off to her. As for thanking me, you just have, and very nicely. Throw in a cup of coffee, and I’ll call it even.”

Inviting a man she barely knew into the house didn’t strike her as being wise, yet off the top of her head, she couldn’t think of a good excuse to say no. She did owe him.

“Coffee. Sure. I can do that.”

She joined him on the porch to dig for her keys again. With him standing over her, she felt awkward. What did she think she was doing? He had killed someone. Bobby Lee had warned her to stay away from him. Sue had seconded that vote. And here she was, letting him into the house.

After finally locating the key, she inserted it into the hole upside down on the first try, and then was unable to make it turn on the second.

“Here, let me.”

He plucked the key from her hand and unlocked the door with enviable ease. At her startled look, he grinned. Dropping the ring back in her purse, he said, “It’s all in the wrist.”

“My dad says it’s all in how he holds his mouth.”

He chuckled. “That, too, I suppose.”

Once inside, she glanced at the motley collection of furniture she’d picked up for a song after selling all her nice stuff to pay off some of the credit-card debt. Compared with his place, hers looked pretty shabby. “Welcome. It’s not much, but it’s home. If the floor gives under your weight, don’t be alarmed. My landlord assures me it won’t fall through.”

“It’s clean and comfortable. That’s all that counts.”

As Chloe led the way to the kitchen, she was acutely aware of him looming behind her. The room wasn’t large to begin with, and with him taking up space, it seemed minuscule. He sat at the table with his back
to the window. His shoulders looked as wide as the window frame.
Impossible
. She’d measured the opening for new curtains last week, and it was forty-eight inches wide. It was only the angle—or a trick of the light. The flickering fluorescent tubes cast a bluish glare, creating a shimmering nimbus around him.

Pausing by the stove, she said, “Regular or decaf?”

“Regular, please. I work most of the night.”

Chloe recalled Lucy Gant’s saying that he had no job and mooched off his mother. His reference to work piqued her curiosity. “So, what is it that you do in the wee hours of the morning to earn a living, Ben?”

“This and that.”

She drew the basket from the coffeemaker. He’d given her the same answer that morning, which was no answer at all. “Is your profession a secret?”

“Not really. I just make it a rule never to talk shop.”

As explanations went, that was pretty lame. Okay, fine. He didn’t wish to discuss his work. That worried her. Most people didn’t clam up when asked about their jobs. What was he trying to hide? More to the point, why was he trying to hide it? Recalling Lucy Gant’s allegation that he was dealing in drugs, Chloe decided to let the subject drop. If he was doing something illegal up on his ridge, it was no business of hers—and she wanted to keep it that way.

She quickly rinsed the filter basket, spooned in enough grounds for a half-pot, and filled the carafe to the five-cup mark. Fearful that caffeine at this hour would keep her awake, she nuked a mug of water in the microwave for instant decaf while the coffee machine began its brewing cycle.

She could feel his gaze on her in the silence. She spilled instant coffee on the counter as she scooped a
rounded teaspoon from the jar. She needed to say something, but her sleep-deprived brain remained stubbornly blank.

“Excuse me for a moment,” she said, and went to the back of the house to awaken her child.

As children will, Jeremy stirred when she shook his shoulder, but he didn’t wake up. When Chloe lifted him from the bed, he buried his face against her shoulder and made a mewling sound of protest.

“I’m sorry, sweetie. Someone’s here to see you.”

“Who?”

“It’s a surprise,” Chloe whispered, praying that she wasn’t making a mistake.

Ben’s gaze sharpened when she entered the kitchen. He started to push up from his chair, then sank down again. Chloe turned so Jeremy could make eye contact over her shoulder. “Hey, sweetie, look who’s here. Mr. Longtree came to tell you some wonderful news.”

Jeremy’s head popped up. He blinked sleepily and rubbed his eyes, then managed a slurred, “Hi.”

“I just stopped by to tell you your puppy’s doing better.”

Jeremy grinned. “He’s all better?”

“Headed that direction, anyway.”

The child beamed, his bleary eyes lighting with happiness. “I
knew
you could make him better. I just
knew
it!”

With a wiggle and push, Jeremy freed himself from Chloe’s embrace. The instant his bare feet touched down, he raced around the table and launched himself into his benefactor’s arms. Clearly unaccustomed to children, Ben caught Jeremy to his chest to keep him from falling, but then seemed uncertain what to do with him.

“Thank you, Mr. Longtree! Thank you,
thank
you!”
Jeremy cried, hugging the man’s neck with his skinny arms.

One hand hovering over the child’s narrow back, Ben said nothing for a moment. Then the tension slipped from his big body. “You’re very welcome,” he replied in an oddly husky voice.

Chloe suspected that Ben would have set the child off his lap, but Jeremy had other ideas. He twisted sideways, snuggled close, and began grilling the poor man.

“How much better is he?”

“He’s still very weak. I can treat the virus, but only time will put meat back on his bones. He needs to build his strength back up.”

“But he won’t die. Right?”

“No, I don’t think so. Not unless something unexpected happens.”

“Is he still getting a drink in his vein?”

“Yes.”

“Is he still swallowing up?”

“Vomiting,” Chloe translated.

“Oh, no. He’s no longer vomiting.”

“Is he still sleeping on your table?”

“No, I made him a nice bed in a box before I came over here. I was afraid he might wake up and fall off the edge.”

“Is he moving lots?”

“Not a lot yet, but more than he was.”

Mindless of where he poked with his knees, Jeremy rose to hug Ben’s neck again. “He really is better, then!”

Ben shifted the boy’s weight to protect his vulnerable spots, smiled slightly, and returned the hug more easily this time. Watching from across the room, Chloe suspected it had been a while since this man had
experienced any kind of physical closeness, and possibly never the exuberant affection of a child.

To his credit, Ben took to it quickly and was soon running a big hand over Jeremy’s shoulders, patting and massaging him back to sleep. It was unusual for Jeremy to so quickly bestow his trust on a stranger, but the child rested his curly head on Ben’s shoulder and made no move to pull away. Man and boy had clearly forged a friendship that morning.

They were a picture, the two of them, Ben so midnight dark and Jeremy so fair. Ben’s skin gleamed in the flickering overhead light like varnished oak seasoned to umber. His glistening jet hair, so straight and thick, looked almost unreal compared to the child’s fiery curls.
Daylight and darkness
. Ben’s splayed fingers encompassed the entire span of the boy’s back. For just an instant, Chloe found herself wondering how it might feel if he were to touch her that way. The instant she realized the track her thoughts had taken, she busied herself wiping counters that were already clean.
What madness
. She would never submit to the intimate touch of any man’s hands again.

When it became apparent that Jeremy was going to fall asleep in Ben’s arms, Chloe softly observed, “He likes you.”

Ben turned his cheek against the child’s hair. The gesture touched Chloe in a way she couldn’t define. “The feeling’s mutual. He was scared to death when we first met this morning.” He flicked her a look. “Much to my shame, I tried to run him off. He stood his ground, insisting I hear him out.”

“And once you did, you couldn’t turn him away.”

“He’s quite a boy.” His eyes warmed on hers. “Takes after his mother, I think.”

She turned to pour his coffee. When she glanced back, Ben was still rubbing his jaw on Jeremy’s curls,
his expression conveying pleasure and no small amount of wonder.

If he enjoyed children so much, why had he never had any of his own? Chloe was about to ask when she recalled her vow to keep her distance. Yes, the man seemed nice. And, no, he didn’t strike her as being crazy. But she didn’t have the credentials to make that judgment. He had killed someone with one blow of his fist.

Ben suddenly stood. At his questioning look, Chloe led the way to the bedroom. She hurried around the bed to draw back the covers, then watched as he lowered her child to the mattress, handling him as if he were made of glass.

She was about to pull up the covers when Ben drew them up himself. He executed the task with such gentleness that Chloe had to turn away. A year and a half ago, Jeremy’s father had tucked him in just like that. Until this moment, Chloe hadn’t realized how much she missed that nightly ritual.

Once back in the kitchen, she added sugar to her decaf. Over the chinking of the spoon, she heard the scrape of Ben’s chair as he resumed his seat. She looked away, wondering how one man could elicit such polar responses from her—one moment making her question her sanity, the next reminding her of the good times and making her mourn all that she’d lost.

It wasn’t like her to yo-yo, and Chloe could only take it as a warning sign. Ben was indeed dangerous, only maybe not in the way Bobby Lee thought.

“You’ve made a friend for life.” She slid his mug of coffee across the table and sat down. “It’s an honor. My son doesn’t make friends easily.”

“That’s two of us.” Lifting the mug, he inhaled the steam. “Ah, a woman after my heart.” He took a slow sip. “One thing I can’t make is good coffee.”

Chloe figured he was just being nice. It was pretty hard to go wrong with coffee. “It’s one of my few culinary accomplishments.”

He shrugged. “I’m a fair hand in the kitchen. Coffee’s the only thing I can’t seem to master. If it’s not too strong, it’s way too weak.” He took another appreciative sip. “Perfect.”

The ensuing silence had Chloe tapping her fingertips on the table. At the sound, Ben glanced at her hand. Then he grinned. Recalling the frostiness of his gaze that morning, she marveled once again that a mere smile could make such a vast difference in someone’s face.

Now, if he would only shrink a little, she might feel halfway relaxed with him. He was all darkness and hard angles, masculinity emanating in waves from every pore of his skin. She could smell his aftershave, a brisk, piney scent that reminded her of the woods on a warm day. His hand, curled around the cup, was half again as wide as hers across the back, and his fingers were twice as thick. She remembered the strength of his grip when he’d grabbed her arms at the feed store.

He had been easier to talk to on the phone. Without the visuals, she’d been able to be herself. Such was not the case now. She guessed him to be at least six-five. The name Longtree suited him. And she wished he’d leave now so she could breathe normally again.

“Maybe I should take a rain check on the coffee,” he suddenly said. “It’s awfully late, and you look tired.”

“I’m fine.” The moment she spoke, she wondered what had possessed her to protest. “I, um, just didn’t sleep much last night.”

“My point exactly.”

He made as if to rise. Chloe surprised herself by
touching his shirtsleeve. “Please, don’t go. I seldom call it a night before one.” She checked her watch, thinking that there was no question; she really had lost her mind. “If I crash right now, I’ll be up at seven instead of eight. Working the late shift, it’s better if I sleep in. Otherwise I’m dragging when I get off.”

He sat back, regarding her thoughtfully. “It’s not just that you look tired. You seem tense, as well. Not that I blame you.” He gestured at the window. “Lights out, all around. The rumors in town don’t exactly recommend me.”

That was true, and yet . . . she felt as if she did know him, in a way. Yo-yoing again. It had been unwise to allow him inside the house, especially so late at night. But it was done, and so far he’d given her no reason to regret it. “You seem harmless enough.”

Holding his mug cupped in his hands, he braced his elbows on the table. “Harmless, huh?” He lifted the cup to his lips. “Then why are you so nervous?”