When She's Bad (17 page)

Hearing another sound from the hallway, he impatiently opened the door and spotted Delilah sitting beside her door doing something with her purse while a man messed with her doorknob.

An ugly bitter taste filled his mouth. Wearing an unbuttoned coat that revealed her shapely legs, Delilah was dressed to slay armies, and although he didn’t swing that way, he suspected the guy standing beside her didn’t have a hard time keeping his bed occupied.

If he had any sense, he would close his door and forget Delilah Montague, but Benjamin was pretty sure he’d lost most of his sense the day she’d rescued him.

“Need some help?” he asked, stepping into the hallway.

Two heads turned in his direction. The male looked somewhat relieved. Delilah looked dazed and disheveled.

The man cleared his throat. “We can’t seem to find her key,” he said.

“Benjamin has one,” Delilah said, scooping up the contents of her purse.

“Benjamin? I’m Paul, Paul Woodward. I work at the spa with Delilah,” he said, extending his hand.

Worked with her? Or
on
her? Benjamin grudgingly accepted the man’s handshake.

“Thanks for your help,” Paul said. “I think Delilah needs to get to bed.”

Benjamin pulled her key from his pocket and unlocked the door. Paul made no move to go inside.

Benjamin relaxed a millimeter.

“Thanks for being my escort for the party,” Delilah said, kissing Paul on the cheek. “Sorry I got wobbly. I think Iris’s
Knock-out punch
was really a knock-out.”

“No problem,” Paul said. “Sleep a few extra winks.”

He turned to Benjamin. “Thanks again.”

Delilah tottered into her foyer, weaving from side to side. She leaned a bit too far and collided with the wall. He heard her swear under her breath and bit back a chuckle.

“You okay?” Benjamin asked, closing the door behind him.

“I’ll be fine as soon as everything stops moving. Iris thought she was so cute with that
Knock-out punch
. Geez, I wonder what she put in it.”

Benjamin took her arm and led her to her bedroom. He pushed her into a sitting position on the bed. She kicked off her shoes.

“Who is Paul?” he asked, still feeling an itchy tension.

“Everybody’s favorite massage therapist. Isn’t he gorgeous? And he’s not too smart.”

Benjamin ground his teeth. “He meets your qualifications.”

“Yeah.” She sighed and fell back on the bed. “Except he seems like a brother. Damn shame, isn’t it?”

“Sure is,” he lied, lifting her slightly to remove her coat. Her arms were dead weight. She offered little help. “Why didn’t you ask me to escort you?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re a Huntington. Everyone would whisper, whisper, whisper. What’s a Huntington doing with that skanky Delilah Montague.”

“You’re not skanky,” Benjamin corrected. “You just give the false impression of being a bad girl.”

“How do you know it’s false?”

“Because I’ve seen you be good.”

She waved her hand. “You’re making my head hurt,” she said her eyes smoky, her mouth pouty. “Thanks for using your key.”

He pulled her up the bed so that her head rested on the pillow.

She shook her head at him. “Just because I had too much of Iris’s punch doesn’t mean you’re going to get any from me tonight.”

Benjamin cleared his throat to cover a chuckle. “I’ve never been into the idea of necrophilia.”

She frowned. “What’s that?”

“Sex with dead people.”

“I’m not dead,” she said and closed her eyes. “I’m just dizzy. And sleepy.” Her voice slurred together.

For his own amusement, Benjamin silently counted to fifty-three before Delilah’s snore interrupted him.

You know you drank too much when you wake up the next morning and you’re still wearing your control-top pantyhose.

—D
ELILAH’S
D
ICTUM

Chapter 17

J
ust before midnight, Sara’s doorbell rang. Her heart jumped in her chest and she bit her lip. With her luck, it would be a ring and run.

Paul had promised he would come see her after he delivered Delilah to her condo. She’d told him it wasn’t necessary. They hadn’t made any promises. No strings, no commitments. Just friendship and amazing sex.

She’d told herself that all evening as she’d gnawed her fingernails down to the quick. He was almost ten years younger than she was. He couldn’t be that attracted to her. He couldn’t want her exclusively. He couldn’t, even though he insisted that he did.

Pulling her terry robe around her, she cracked the storm door and saw him standing in all his gorgeousness on her front porch. Her heart danced again. He smiled, revealing his ladykiller dimple, and she opened the door.

“As promised,” he said, stepping inside.

“Unnecessary,” she said, though she was thrilled to see him.

“I disagree,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “I’m here to make a late-night delivery.” He lowered his mouth and kissed her.

The room began to spin.

“Let me move in with you,” he coaxed between kisses.

Breathless, she shook her head. “You’re crazy.”

“It’s crazy for me to keep driving back to my place at night when I want to stay with you,” he said, sliding his mouth down her neck and pulling at her robe.

“This is insane,” she said, helping him with her robe and tugging at his shirt. “I thought you would be tempted to stay the night with Delilah.”

“I told you Delilah just flirts with me because I’m safe.” He chuckled. “Poor thing. She got drunk. She’s gonna have a headache the size of the Grand Canyon tomorrow morning.”

Sara felt a twinge of sympathy. “She must be upset about Willy.”

“And maybe some other stuff. I don’t know what. Right now, I just want to be with you,” he said, cupping her breasts. “In you.”

Sara’s knees wobbled. “Oh, Paul, what you do to me. I’m shameless.”

Paul shook his head. “I love you. I want to ask you to marry me, but I know that’ll scare the hell out of you.”

Sara gasped. “Marry!”

“Yeah, but I can wait.” He picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. “I just wish you’d let me live with you so I can prove how indispensable I am.”

Sara fought a lump rising in her throat. “I’m just so afraid it won’t last. That you’ll wake up one day and realize you don’t want to be with an older woman.”

“Sweetheart, I’ve proven to you over and over that I’m no baby.” He paused, sliding his finger from her lips, down her chin and throat to her breasts. “But I’d sure like to give you a baby.”

He couldn’t have said anything more perfect. He couldn’t have said anything that would touch her deepest longings more. Her chest tightened and her eyes filled with tears. Her husband hadn’t wanted children and she’d just assumed that her chance for a baby had passed her by.

Oh, Lord, was it possible? Was it wise? How could she possibly say no? She looked into his gaze and the expression in his eyes silenced the voices of doubt that crowded her head. “You’re making me fall in love with you.”

“Lady, I’ve just gotten started.”

Delilah awakened the next morning to a ringing sound. It felt as if it originated inside her head. She shook her head and winced. The ringing continued. She slowly opened her eyes, which was difficult to do, because she hadn’t removed her makeup last night and her eyelashes were sticking together. The ringing stopped. Squinting her eyes, she looked from side to side. A sliver of relief slid through her. Her bed. She was in her bed by herself.

So she hadn’t been totally stupid. She thought of those last two drinks and cringed. Just partly stupid. She had a vague memory of Benjamin helping her to bed. It seemed he was rescuing her all the time lately.

She frowned. Her mouth tasted as if something had crawled inside and died. She lifted her head and her stomach turned over. She immediately sank back onto the pillow.

She realized she was still dressed. That was good and bad. Geez, she hadn’t even ditched the shaper pantyhose, she thought, feeling like a thousand rubber bands were wrapped around her waist and thighs. She lay still for a moment and had an odd feeling that something was wrong. What was it?

Her brain bumbled along until it hit a speed bump. Willy, she thought. Willy was gone. She closed her eyes at the pain that twisted through her. What was she going to do without him? She felt so empty.

The ringing began again. The phone, she realized and carefully rolled to her side to retrieve it from her bedside table. “Hello?”

“This is Guy.”

Delilah’s stomach heaved. She closed her eyes and took a careful breath. “How did you get my home number?”

He laughed. It was an unpleasant sound. “I’m resourceful. I talked to Miss Lilly White.”

“You leave Lilly alone,” Delilah said, nausea rising to her throat. “Can’t talk. I’m sick—” She dropped the phone and raced to the bathroom, making it just in time. Rinsing her mouth and brushing her teeth, she swore at her reflection. She stripped off her clothes and took a quick lukewarm shower, scrubbing her face and body. Pitifully weak and exhausted afterward, she sank onto the top of her bed, naked.

When she felt a chill, she climbed under the covers. Catching sight of the phone on the floor, she stretched until her fingers grasped it and pulled it on the bed with her. She stared at it for a few moments, locked in internal debate. She hated to ask for help. She despised needing help.

Sighing in surrender, she punched out the number for her sister Katie. At the sound of her sister’s voice, she felt her heart swell. “It’s Delilah. I need your help. I need Michael’s help.”

After a flurry of phone calls, she and Katie learned there were no seats available on any flights departing Philadelphia for Houston due to the Thanksgiving holiday. Katie was so upset she wanted to charter a jet, but Delilah persuaded her to wait until after the Thanksgiving weekend.

She just had to last until Monday after next, she told herself. Just until Monday. She wouldn’t answer her phone until then. Today was Saturday. Nine days. She could do it. Sure she could.

The phone rang again and she started to sweat.

By Saturday evening, Delilah regained some of her appetite. She scrambled eggs and buttered some toast. The condo was way too quiet. Feeling fidgety, she turned on the television.
The Wiggles
appeared on the screen, causing a knot of loneliness in her chest. She quickly changed the station to a cooking show.

Just as she finished her last bite of toast, Benjamin walked through the door. Her heart bumped at the sight of him. He walked through the foyer and stood in front of her, studying her. “You look like you feel better.”

“Than last night?” She gave a wry laugh. “I was feeling no pain. It was this morning that—”

“I checked on you before I went to class to make sure you were still breathing,” he interjected.

Delilah cringed. “You saw me this morning. Ewwwww.”

He glanced at her plate. “I was going to ask you to join me for dinner.”

“Too late. I’m all done.”

“Would you go and sit with me? I’ll buy you a drink.”

His invitation sent a weird rush through her. She realized no one had asked her on a real date in a long time. But he was a Huntington. “Better not,” she said, surprised at the sting of disappointment she felt. “I don’t want to ruin your rep.”

“You think I can’t handle the gossip?” he asked, his gaze solid.

Her heart fluttered again. He was a big boy. He could probably handle anything, and that was part of his attraction. Still, she wasn’t dying to cause him trouble. Someday he would come to his senses and start dating a woman with great bloodlines and impressive education, get married and have babies. He would be a terrific father, she thought and sighed. She didn’t want to be a skeleton in his closet. “I didn’t say that. I was planning on staying in tonight. And I plan to abstain from any alcohol until I completely forget how awful I felt this morning.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Abstaining from alcohol and sex. Your father would be proud.”

She narrowed her eyes and scowled at him.

He tugged at her hand. “Fix me something to eat.”

“What?”

“I don’t care. You’re watching a cooking show,” he said, pointing at the television. “Fix what he’s fixing.”

Delilah laughed, but allowed him to drag her to the kitchen. “You don’t understand. I watch these shows with the idea that someday I’ll cook like that. Do you know when someday is for these kinds of things? Never. I’m warning you I don’t have much in my cupboard.”

“I’m easy,” he said, his voice silky with suggestion.

She shot a quick glance at him, but his eyes were wide with innocence as he leaned against the refrigerator with one lifted arm. His stance emphasized his broad shoulders, the developed muscles of his chest and flat belly. She was tempted to allow her gaze to venture further down, but decided she would be asking for trouble.

“Hamburger it is,” she said, pulling a frozen patty from the freezer. She defrosted it in the microwave then fried it, put a slice of cheese on top and added condiments per Benjamin’s instructions.

He downed it with her last beer in no time.

“Should I have fixed you two burgers?”

He shook his head. “That took the edge off. I didn’t eat lunch. You know how that goes. If you haven’t eaten in a long time, you eat fast because you feel deprived.” He fiddled with the cuff of her blouse, dragging his finger against her inner wrist. “Then you can slow down.”

The sensual gesture reminded her of how he’d touched her that night they’d made love. His expression told her he was remembering the same. Delilah felt her body temperature crank up another degree.

She cleared her throat, shook her head. “I’m not going to bed with you again. Been there, done that. Got the tattoo.”

“I don’t remember seeing any tattoos,” Benjamin said.

“It’s an expression.” She pulled her hand from his.

“I didn’t ask you to go to bed with me.”

“Not in so many words,” Delilah said. “But you were thinking it.”

“How do you know what I was thinking?”

“I could tell,” she said, lifting her chin.

“Well, you’re wrong. I was thinking I’d like to dance with you.”

She blinked. She hadn’t expected that. Her stomach turned a little flip.

“What kind of music do you have?” he asked, heading for her entertainment center.

“No opera,” she retorted, following him.

He chuckled. “That’s okay. I wasn’t looking for opera.” He pulled out a CD and put it in the player. “This’ll work.”

Delilah felt oddly nervous. “I didn’t say I would dance with you.”

The smoky voice of Norah Jones filled the room. Her favorite. He was a beast, she decided.

He extended his hand to her. “Dance with me.”

Her feet moved forward of their own volition. “You didn’t really ask.”

“Okay, do you want to dance with me?” Before she could answer, he pulled her into his arms and covered her mouth with one index finger. “Honest.”

When he looked at her that way, it was hard to muster a defiant lie. She closed her eyes and sank against him, letting her body talk. It was just dancing. It wasn’t sex.

As the notes flowed into each other, she inhaled his scent and savored the moment. His body and hers worked well together, no surprise there. His movements were smooth, not fussy or overdone. She liked that. He held her just tightly enough, provided just the right amount of lead to make dancing with him a pleasure.

One song slid into another, then another. Toward the end, they were barely moving, just swaying, his thigh between hers. She could feel his heat. There was no mistaking the evidence of his arousal pressing against her, and yet there was no pressure, just anticipation. It clung to her like humidity on a hot summer day.

His lips brushed her forehead. The sweet caress touched her in a dark, secret place. It was gentle, almost protective. It had been such a long time since someone had been protective of her.

She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to taste his lips and inhale his breath, touch his naked skin and take a bath in his strength. The need was strong, the want was fierce. A vague, primitive need crystallized inside her. She wanted to mate with him. She wanted to have his baby.

The shocking thought stopped her breath. Oh, hell. She must be crazy.

With her heart hammering in her chest, she took a careful breath, steeling herself against the knee-weakening effect of his scent. She bit her lip. “That was really nice,” she said.

“But you want me to leave.”

She smiled at the wry note in his voice.

She looked up at him. “How did you know?”

“Every time I get close, you tell me to leave.”

“I won’t ask you to come to bed with me,” she said, a knot rising in her throat. Why did he affect her so strongly?

“You don’t have to,” he said.

“But you’re hard.”

“And you’re aroused too. It doesn’t mean we have to have sex right this minute.”

Even though she wanted to
. She just thought it would be smarter for her to stand on the highest point of a golf course pointing a golf club to the heavens during an electric storm.

“I am going to kiss you, though,” he said and lowered his mouth to hers, leaving her no time to refuse.