Only By Your Touch (24 page)

“I just can’t believe she offered it to me. I mean—
why
?”

He chuckled. “Only you would ask. All anyone has to do is look in your eyes to see your heart shining through, and it’s a warm heart, to boot. I think Hattie has made the perfect choice.”

Chloe felt as if she’d just gotten a telephone hug. What was happening here? When she counted the days, she knew she hadn’t known Ben all that long, but it seemed as if she’d known him forever. When she remembered how wary she’d been of him in the beginning, she could only laugh at herself. She never should have listened to Lucy Gant.

Ben ended the conversation by saying, “I’m happy for you, Chloe. This calls for a celebration. I have some champagne that I’ve been saving for just such an occasion. Would you mind some company?”

Chloe’s hand flew to her hair. “I, um—sure, why not?” She could slap on some makeup before he got there. “If Hattie Perkins is for real, this does call for champagne. I’m so excited I’m about to bust.”

“Maintain the mood, and I’ll see you in ten minutes.”

When the phone clicked and went dead, Chloe stood there for a moment, smiling at the receiver.

B
en arrived fifteen minutes later with champagne on ice. When Chloe answered his knock, she could only stare for a moment, wondering if the darkness beyond the threshold was playing tricks with her eyes.

“Your hair,” she said stupidly.

He stepped inside. “I got my ears lowered.” He smiled slowly at her. “Does it look that bad? I let Mom cut it.”

“Your
mom?
”

“I figured she needed the distraction. It kept her from worrying about why the sheriff hadn’t called. I finally convinced her that the man she saw was probably doing something harmless—like burying a shirt with lipstick on the collar that he didn’t want his wife to find.”

Chloe gave a startled laugh. “With an imagination like that, you should be a writer.”

He grinned and shrugged. “Maybe so. The haircut got her to thinking about something else. She wandered off only twice. It was a little worrisome at one point when only half my head was done, but she finally came back on-line.”

“She did a great job. I’m just used to it long. It looks good.”

Very good,
she thought. The headband had vanished, and his black hair, shorn to a much shorter length, lay in disarray over his high forehead, the mussed strands gleaming like polished jet. He seemed taller somehow, and he looked handsome and sexy enough to be illegal. It was just—well—he looked so different from the Ben she’d come to know.

He juggled the burden in his arms. “Champagne on ice causes frostbite.”

He’d stuffed the bottles into plastic bags filled with ice cubes, which he held close to his chest. He went to the kitchen and set the bags in the sink. Chloe rose onto her tiptoes to retrieve two wine goblets from a shelf.

“Sorry,” she said as she set them on the counter. “When I was hitting garage sales, there were no crystal flutes available.”

“After the divorce, you didn’t get half the household belongings?”

Chloe had felt fortunate to escape with her skin intact. “I’m a peace-at-any-cost person. What Roger didn’t get, I sold to pay his medical and credit card bills.”

“He’s still able to live by himself?”

“Yes. In my opinion that’s a mistake, but I’ve got no say-so anymore.”

She couldn’t stop staring at his hair. He looked so different—like someone she barely knew. The woven sash that he’d always worn had been replaced with a wide leather belt, and he was also wearing western boots.

“What happened to your sash and moccasins?”

“I retired them to the closet and unearthed my old
standbys. I caught a glimpse of myself today and decided I was carrying the Shoshone look too far.”

Chloe suspected there was more to the story. Jeremy would be disappointed. He’d been working so hard to get the Ben Longtree look perfected.

The thought no sooner settled in Chloe’s brain than another came hard and fast on its heels. “Oh, Ben,” she said softly.

He shot her a wary glance. “What?”

“You did this because of Jeremy.”

He ran a hand over his hair. “Let’s not go there, okay? I got a haircut. No big deal.”

“I thought you refused to wear leather for moral reasons.”

He rested a lean hip against the counter. “He’s been copying me.”

“Yes.”

“Other kids will make fun of him. I know what that’s like, and I don’t want it happening to him.” He shrugged. “I disapprove of killing animals for food or clothing, but sometimes you can carry things too far. Millions of people in this country consume beef. The hides will be used to make leather goods whether I wear leather or not. You have to pick your battles.”

“I can’t believe you’d do this for my son.”

He finally met her gaze. “He’s a good kid. I’m fond of him. It’s hard enough, moving to a new school, without stacking the deck against yourself. Maybe he’ll get rid of that silly shoestring now and start wearing sneakers again.”

“True, and that will be good, I suppose. It’s just that I don’t like to see you compromise your ideals this way.”

“You can’t have him looking like that. The other kids will crucify him.”

Chloe sighed and conceded the point with a nod. Smiling up at him, she said, “The haircut looks fabulous. I liked it long, but it’s attractive this way, too.”

“The hair doesn’t make the man. Neither do the clothes.” He raked his fingers through the thick strands. “It’s a lot less troublesome, cut short. It was always falling in my eyes, even with the headband.”

He began peeling away the foil from one champagne bottle to reveal a wire doohickey over the cork. Using his thumb, he gave it a hard push. With an explosive
pop
, the cork cannoned from the bottle and hit the window above the sink. The glass shattered as though a cannonball had struck it.

“Shit!”

Chloe leaped back. Glass went everywhere. When her initial shock subsided, she clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. Ben just stood there, the bottle still aimed at her window, his dark face a study of incredulity. “I can’t
believe
I did that.”

Laughing so hard she could scarcely breathe, Chloe clamped an arm over her waist. He slanted her a mock glare. “You think it’s funny? I busted your window.”

She nodded again and managed to squeeze out, “I noticed.” She wiped tears of mirth from her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she squeaked. “It’s just—the look on your face.
Priceless.
I’m sorry.”

He set the bottle on the drain and shook champagne from his hands.

“At least you didn’t hit yourself in the nose.” Her voice went shrill. “Did you see that movie?”

Smiling, he shook his head as he filled the glasses and handed her one. “Congratulations on the job.” He touched his goblet to hers. “Bottoms up. Drain the glass, or it’ll bring bad luck.”

“I’ve never heard that one.” Chloe wrinkled her
nose as she gulped down the champagne. Ben immediately gave her a refill. “Whoa! I’m a lightweight.”

“To the future. I hope it all works out, and you’re a wealthy business owner five years from now.”

Chloe couldn’t pass on a toast like that. As she lowered her empty glass, she felt the warmth of the alcohol moving through her, and she smiled. Setting the glass aside, she said, “I was too excited to eat much dinner. On an empty stomach, that stuff packs a punch.”

His glass joined hers on the counter. He moved toward her. Before Chloe realized what he meant to do, he cupped a hand over the back of her head and hauled her up against him. This time, he wasted no time on preliminaries. He just took her mouth in a deep, searing kiss.

Chloe went from laughter to yearning so quickly that her brain barely registered the change before her body ignited. The force of her need alarmed her. She’d believed herself incapable of ever wanting a man again.
Wrong.
The heat of him—the hardness of him. She suddenly wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anything.

Just a kiss,
she promised herself.
There’s no harm in that.
When it was over—after she’d gotten just a taste of him—she’d pull away and end it.

She dug her fingers into his shoulders, pressing her body to his. He slipped his free arm around her, his hand splayed over her side. He was fire and ice, making her burn with need and shiver with delight. That tingling warmth she’d come to associate with his touch moved through her in waves. She felt as if she’d been plugged into a high-voltage socket and every cell of her body were being charged.

Suddenly she couldn’t think, didn’t want to think. When he moved his hands under her top—when she
felt his palms on her bare skin—she stepped up onto his boots to gain height, hugged his neck with both arms, and hungrily feasted on his mouth, reveling in the thrills that pulsed so wildly through her system. His hand found her breast.
Yes.
She wanted this, needed him. The layer of nylon and lace that protected her nipple from his clever, searching fingertips was such a frustration that she wanted to scream.
There. Oh, yes, just there,
she thought dizzily when he captured the sensitive protuberance and teased it with light rolls of his fingers that sent electrical buzzes through her body.

Chloe moaned and shivered. He caught her at the waist and set her on the counter. She felt his hands making fast work of her blouse buttons, felt the strength rippling in his shoulders, gloried in the tingling heat that poured from him and into her.
Ben
. He parted her blouse and unfastened the front clasp of her bra. Her breasts spilled forth into his big, warm hands. When his thumbs touched the tips of her nipples, hums of delight shot through her. The ribbons of sensation tangled in her belly, forming a white-hot mass of longing.

She made fists in his hair, struggling to wrap her lower legs around his thighs, the feminine place at the apex of her own screaming for contact with his hardness. Visions of making love with him swirled through her brain, their bodies entwined, the sheets damp with their sweat, the magic forming a cocoon around them. Nothing existed in that moment but him and the way he made her feel.

“Sweet Christ,” he whispered, wrenching his mouth away and resting his forehead against hers. She felt him trembling, and by that she knew he wanted her as much as she wanted him. “I can’t,” he shuddered out. “Foul play. I can’t do this.”

Chloe blinked stupidly. She dragged in a jagged
breath as he fumbled to get her breasts back into the flimsy cups of the bra. Every graze of his fingertips ignited her, adding fuel to the fire he’d already started. Why was he stopping? This wasn’t how it usually went. It was the woman who was supposed to have second thoughts.

“You’re not ready for this, Chloe. You’re not ready, and I’m a jerk.”

She was ready. She’d never been more ready for anything. Only how could she articulate that when—what was it about his hands that made her whole body feel as if it were melting and humming, all at once?

He managed to refasten her bra. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, trailing kisses along her cheek. “When I’m touching you, I can’t control myself. I’m sorry. It isn’t fair. I’m sorry.”

She had no idea what he was talking about, and she made a sound of protest when he drew back to button her blouse. A dozen questions spiked in her mind, but his closed expression told her he wouldn’t provide answers.

Shaking, she pushed his hands away to finish the buttoning herself. Embarrassment washed her face with searing heat. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. “Well, now.” Her voice quivered. “That was—fun.”

He didn’t want her. The realization hovered in her brain like a black cloud. She’d been all over him, practically begging him for sex, and he’d been the one to stop.

When her mind cleared, Chloe jumped down from the counter and began gathering the glass shards in the sink.

“Chloe.”

He touched her shoulder. She flinched away. “What a mess!” she managed to say with a laugh.

“It’s not what you’re thinking.”

And how did he know what she was thinking? Right then, she was seriously questioning her sanity. What, exactly, had come over her? She’d long since vowed never to let another man put his hands on her. Now that her blood had stopped racing and her body was starting to feel halfway normal again, she was appalled by her behavior. They easily could have ended up in bed. What then? If she’d regained her senses right in the middle of it and asked him to stop, he would have been angry, and perhaps rightfully so.

“It’s fine, Ben,” she said quickly. “Let’s just blame the champagne, shall we?”

“I’ve hurt your feelings. I never meant—” He broke off and muttered, “Shit. I want you, Chloe. That wasn’t why I stopped.”

She picked up a large piece of glass and put it in the trash.

“You shotgunned two glasses of champagne,” he said. “I don’t get women slightly drunk and then seduce them.”

By now, Chloe wasn’t sure what upset her more, the fact that he’d pulled away, or that she’d been so eager. It wasn’t like her. Of all the things she missed about being married, sex wasn’t one of them. It was humiliating to have lost control like that, humiliating to remember how she had shivered and moaned, wanting more. It had been a very close call, too close for comfort.

She had the glass cleared away in short order. Taking his cues from her, Ben let the subject drop. “Do you have a flashlight? A lot of it probably went outside.”

“I have a flashlight, but it can wait until morning. I’ll have plenty of time before work to take care of it.”

“You don’t happen to have any cardboard, do you?”

Chloe went to her bedroom, emptied a partially unpacked box in her closet, and took it to him. He cut the cardboard to fit the window opening while she fished through her junk drawer for some tacks and a hammer.

When the window had been covered to his satisfaction, he poured each of them more champagne. Chloe almost turned it down. Maybe she was tipsier than she realized, and that accounted for her inexplicable reaction to his kiss.

She reluctantly took the goblet, assuring herself that she had the situation under control now. As long as he didn’t touch her again, she’d be fine.

“I’ll replace the glass tomorrow while you’re at work,” he assured her. “You’ll need to tell your sitter that I’ll be stopping by.”