Only By Your Touch (14 page)

“Your fingers are freezing.” He released her to adjust the faucets. “That’ll help.”

“I’ve never eaten vegetarian pizza,” she said inanely. “Is it good?”

“Good?” He looked at her lips. “You’ll think you’ve died and gone to heaven.”

Chloe searched his heated gaze and wondered if he was talking about pizza—or something else.

N
udging Chloe out of the way to put the pizza into the oven, Ben wondered what in the blue blazes had possessed him to invite her for lunch. Had he or had he not decided to nip his attraction to her in the bud? It wasn’t like him to waffle like this. Once he made a decision, he usually stuck to it.

Frustrated with himself, he opened a drawer to get the pizza cutter. The problem, he decided as he rifled through the cooking utensils, was going too long without sex. Five years, for Pete’s sake. That was enough to make any man a little crazy. Chloe was a beautiful woman. The crux of it was, he wanted her.

So what did he intend to do about it? He shot her a sidelong glance—noted the way her hips moved as she reached to put spinach leaves in the colander—and went back to rifling. Except he couldn’t remember what in the hell he was looking for.

Damn. Okay. Deep breath. Sex
. He wanted sex. No big deal. He was making it complicated when it didn’t need to be. She was an adult—and a divorcée, to boot. The chemistry between them was combustive. Why not make some moves on her and see where it got him?

“Where in the blue blazes is it?”

Chloe jumped and whirled, her slender hands dripping water. “What are you looking for?”

“Damned if I know. Something important.”

Her mouth twitched. A dimple flashed in her cheek. “And I thought I had a corner on forgetfulness.”

“The pizza cutter,” he remembered. “A little round thing to cut the dough.” Just as he spoke, Ben found it. “Voilà!”

Nan chose that moment to leave her chair and rest her arms on the bar. Only seconds ago, she’d worn a vacuous expression. Now her blue eyes looked as bright and alert as a chipmunk’s.

“How are you today, Nan?” Chloe asked.

“Very good. And you?”

“No complaints.” Chloe took a deep breath of the delicious smells wafting from the oven. “Except for the fact that your son is making me hungry. Pizza is one of my favorites.”

“Ben’s pizza will be a real treat for you then.”

Today Nan wore jeans and a blue blouse that enhanced the hue of her eyes. A faint blush of pink at her cheeks gave her pretty face a healthy-looking glow.

“Are you a fan?” Chloe asked.

Nan shook her head. “Not anymore. We have central air.”

Ben caught Chloe’s eye. She ducked her head to hide her smile.

After a delightful lunch, Chloe helped Ben tackle the kitchen cleanup while Nan returned to her crocheting and Jeremy resumed his vigil beside Rowdy’s box. The lull in conversation as they worked seemed tense, but recalling Ben’s grandfather’s adage that it was better to be silent than to talk a lot and say nothing, Chloe resisted the urge to fill the air with chatter.

When the dishwasher was loaded and she’d wiped off the counters, she turned from the sink, intending to hustle Jeremy to the door as fast as was humanly possible. But her gaze moved past Ben to the bookshelf over the desk, and she forgot what she meant to say.

“You’ve got Brett Caldwell books?”

Still wiping off the stovetop, he jerked up his dark head, looked at the hardbacks, and growled something that sounded vaguely like, “Yeah.”

Jeremy, too, whipped around to stare at the collection. “Wow!” he said. “You’ve got lots!”

“I’m a fan of his,” Ben said gruffly. “Nothing but a big kid at heart, I guess.”

“Me, too.” Chloe wandered closer to study the titles. She was even more surprised to see that he had the entire collection. She smothered a grin. Little wonder he was embarrassed when he had no children in the house to provide him with an excuse. “I got turned on to Caldwell’s work about a year ago when a friend recommended that I buy
Bandit
for Jeremy.”

“Ah.” He wiped out a burner plate. “So what did you think of it?”

“At first, I was dubious because the story is for older kids, and I was afraid it might be a little too realistic, but he loved it. After that, I began buying every Caldwell book I saw. Did you know he won a Newbery award?”

“Really?” He bent to scrub another burner. “Now that you mention it, that does ring a bell.”

“It came as no surprise to me. His work is incredible.” Chloe drew
Bandit
from the shelf. Turning the book in her hands, she examined its edges. No page corners had been turned down. She believed the way a person treated a book revealed a lot about his character. “This is my all-time favorite. I’m surprised it
hasn’t gone to the big screen. It has all the elements of a classic.”

“You liked it that much, did you?”

“Loved it. How about you?”

He shrugged. “I like all his work. I can’t really say I have a favorite.”

Chloe set it back on the shelf. “Well, Jeremy?”

Her son gave her a gloomy look. “So soon?”

Chloe walked over to crouch beside him. “I know it’s hard, sweetie.” It was very tempting to say they could come back tomorrow, but she didn’t think that would be wise. “It’s time to say good-bye.”

“Can we come back tomorrow, Mr. Longtree?” Jeremy asked.

Chloe wanted to clamp a hand over her son’s mouth, but the question was already out.

“That would be great,” Ben replied. “In fact, I’ve been meaning to talk with your mother about that.”

Chloe threw him a surprised look. “You have?”

He tossed the dishcloth into the sink and hunkered down next to them. It didn’t escape Chloe’s notice that his broad shoulders pulled his shirt taut across his chest or that the muscles in his arms bulged under the sleeves each time he moved. Having experienced firsthand the disadvantage of lesser strength, Chloe found it difficult to breathe when she was so close to a powerfully built man. She knew it was silly. Her father was robust, and there had never been a gentler soul. She had the same sentiments about her older brother Rob. Why, then, with other men, who might be every bit as nice if she gave them a chance to prove it, did she get this awful breathless feeling?

Ben checked the IV and then fondled the pup’s curly ears. “You’ve mentioned a couple of times that you’d like to pay me for Rowdy’s treatment. Were you serious about that?”

“Of course. I’m a little tight right now, but in a couple of weeks, I—”

“I’m not talking about money.” He lifted his gaze to hers. “I was thinking more along the lines of you helping me out around here.”

Chloe got that awful feeling at the base of her stomach that always came when she stepped forward, expecting solid ground, and met with open air instead. “Oh. I see.”

He gestured at the animals. “Twice a day, every one of these cages needs to be cleaned, the bedding has to be changed, and the animals must be fed and watered. I’m working under a deadline. It’d really take some of the pressure off me if you could swing by twice a day to take care of the animals.” His mouth curved into a slow smile. “Only as long as Rowdy’s here, of course.”

Chloe couldn’t think what to say. No was the smart response, only how could she possibly turn him down? He was saving her almost a thousand dollars, possibly more, and it was true that he probably needed help.

“The arrangement would work nicely for Jeremy, too,” he added. “He’ll be able to see Rowdy twice a day.” He reached out and ruffled the child’s hair. “Maybe I’ll even put him to work.”

“I can work! I’m a good worker, huh, Mom?”

“Working nights, my time is pretty limited,” Chloe tried. “I don’t see how I could possibly—”

“It really won’t take very long, a half hour at most once you learn the routine.” He flashed one of those bone-melting grins. “I was thinking maybe eight in the morning and then again right before you go to work, say one o’clock? You could get ready for work before you come here in the afternoon, and then you could drop Jeremy off at your house on your way to town.”

Chloe pushed to her feet, hugged her waist. She
couldn’t shake the feeling that he had neatly maneuvered her into a corner.

“Please, Mommy? I’ll help lots. Please?”

“I, um—sure,” she heard herself say. “I guess I can do that.”

Ben stood as well. “Great.” His shimmering gaze trailed slowly over her face. “Perfect, as a matter of fact.” He shifted his attention to Jeremy. “I need to build Rowdy a pen soon so he’ll be able to get some sunshine and fresh air.”

“He’ll have to be in a pen, even up here?” Jeremy asked.

Ben nodded. “Coyotes can carry the parvovirus. It’s extremely important that Rowdy not be allowed on any soil that may be contaminated.”

“If I’m gonna be here lots, I can help build it,” Jeremy said excitedly.

“That’s exactly my thought,” Ben agreed. “It’ll be nice to have an extra pair of hands.” To Chloe, as if he sensed her reservations, he quickly added, “It’ll be good for Jeremy. He’ll be able to take care of the puppy himself. That’ll teach him responsibility.”

Chloe couldn’t argue the point. It probably would be good for Jeremy. She just wasn’t sure it would be good for her.

“Well,” she said, trying to hide her agitation, “it’s settled then. I guess we’ll see you at eight o’clock in the morning.” She glanced at her watch and thrust out a hand to her son. “I think we’ve imposed on Mr. Longtree’s hospitality long enough, sweetie. If we’re going to come here twice tomorrow, I should take advantage of my day off to get some errands done.”

Grumbling, Jeremy obeyed. After clasping his hand, Chloe called good-bye to Nan and thanked Ben for having them to lunch.

“I’m glad you could stay,” he assured her as he
walked with them to the entry. “I always cook more than we can eat and end up with leftovers.”

The warmth of the summer day rolled inside when he opened the door. Chloe took a deep breath of the pine-scented air. “It smells wonderful up here.”

Ben stepped outside with them. The door frame behind him gave measure of his height and the breadth of his shoulders, once again causing Chloe to marvel at his size. He was so trim and leanly muscled that he didn’t look bulky, but there was no denying that he was a good deal larger than most men.

He remained on the porch as she led Jeremy to the car. She’d just reached for the handle of the passenger door when the loud report of a gun rent the silence, making her jump. Ben scaled the steps in one leap, strode out to the driveway, and stared off through the woods, his jaw clenched in anger.

Chloe turned to look up the hill. “That sounded close.”

“Yes, it did,” he agreed. Glancing at Jeremy, he said, “You should go now, Chloe.”

With that to serve as a farewell, he struck off, his strides brisk and long. Chloe stared after him. Then she called, “Is it wise to go up there? You have no weapon.”

Never breaking pace, he turned to walk backwards. “I’d never use a gun if I had one. I just want to ID the guy. The law can handle the rest.”

Chloe was still standing there, gazing after him, when he disappeared over the rise west of the house. What would happen if he actually caught the shooter in the act?

After doing the ironing, going grocery shopping, and washing her car, Chloe was more than ready to spend a pleasurable June evening with her son. On
the back porch, she set up her small gas barbecue, attached a propane canister, and grilled garden patties for dinner. They enjoyed the simple but tasty meal at the rickety picnic table under a pine tree in the backyard. Just over the fence, the neighbor’s lilac bush was in full bloom, attracting hummingbirds.

“They’re havin’ their supper, too, huh, Mom?”

Chloe reached over to wipe a drip from Jeremy’s chin. “Yes. We should get a feeder and hang it by the kitchen window. I love watching them.”

Cheek bulging, Jeremy studied the tiny birds. “Do they ever land?”

“Sure. And when they do, you can actually see what they look like. They’re darling little things—so tiny they almost don’t look real.”

Watching the birds, Jeremy devoured the rest of his garden burger. After clearing away the mess, Chloe challenged him to a game of Frisbee, which kept them happily occupied until almost dark.

“Time to go in,” she called when Jeremy missed a catch and almost got hit in the face. “In this light, it’s too hard to see. We’re both getting clumsy.”

Jeremy sank onto the grass. Concerned, Chloe moved across the patchy lawn to him. “You okay, sweetie?”

Jeremy nodded, but she could see his chest heaving and heard the rattle of his windpipe. She sat down beside him. “Jer?” She touched a hand to his clammy forehead. “Hey, big guy.”

He fumbled in his pocket for his inhaler. Chloe helped him extract the canister and cupped the back of his head as she released two blasts of medication. The child’s lungs grabbed frantically at the mist. Her heart squeezed with fear. He’d been doing so well lately, bouncing around and acting like a healthy,
normal little boy. She’d dared to hope that he might have no more incidents.

The doctor in Washington believed the attacks were a reaction to emotional stress, but nothing she could think of had happened to trigger this one.

It was so hard to remain calm—to watch and do nothing while her child struggled to breathe. But the doctor claimed that a panicked reaction from her would only make things worse. With every wheezing breath Jeremy dragged in, her stomach knotted and her muscles tensed.