Wilde for Him (35 page)

"I'm very sorry about that," Nathan said, apologizing for his wife's crass behavior. "But despite Audrey's negative and judgmental attitude when it comes to some people, I've always raised Christine to accept people at face value, and that's exactly what she's done with you. Luckily, she takes after me more than her mother in that regard," he added with a proud grin.

"One more thing," Nathan said, growing serious once again. "Losing this election was the best thing that ever happened to me."

The other man was full of surprises tonight, and Ben couldn't even begin to guess how this discussion would end. "How so?"

"It's allowed me to have a life of my own. To be true to myself and finally do what I should have done many years ago," Nathan said with conviction. "I'm divorcing Audrey, and I'm making sure that she gets help for her drinking problem that has grown increasingly worse over the years, and hopefully she'll be able to work through her bitterness at life in general. As for me, I'm tired of putting on a front and perpetrating a lie in public of being a happily married man when I'm not. I've wasted too many years being alone and lonely and I'm getting too damned old to live life that way. Don't make the same mistake I did by not going after the one thing that matters most in life."

Because Christine had confided in him, Ben knew that Nathan was referring to the woman he'd been having an affair with all these years. The woman he loved. The woman who'd waited patiently for him while he remained married to a spiteful wife and pursued a political career.

And now, Ben was going to go after the only thing that mattered in his life—the unconditional love of a tenderhearted, sensitive, beautiful woman.

Nathan sat forward in his chair, his gaze softening with genuine esteem. "I know how hard it is to face failure, or admit defeat, but sometimes it's best to put the past behind us where it belongs, and move forward with our lives."

"That's great advice." Ben stood, anxious to see Christine and hoping like hell that he still had a chance with her. "Is there anything else I need to know before I go and talk to Christy?" he asked the other man.

Nathan grinned. "Yeah. Just take care of her, cherish her, and make her happy for the rest of her life."

Ben nodded, knowing he'd do all that, and much more. "Consider it done."

Chapter Eighteen

CHRISTINE wasn't home from work for even ten minutes before someone knocked loudly on the front door. She was tired and cranky and all she wanted to do was pull off her blouse, skirt, and shoes and soak in a hot tub of water with big bubbles and a glass of wine, and soothe the heartache that had been her constant companion since Ben had walked out of her life.

She planned to indulge in that nightly ritual, just as soon as she got rid of whoever was on her front porch.

Figuring it was a solicitor trying to sell something she didn't want, she opened the door intending to give them a polite "thanks, but no thanks," but the words died on her lips—because even if this particular man wanted to sweet-talk her into buying oceanfront property in Arizona, there was no way she'd ever be able to refuse the offer.

Ben stood in front of her, solid and real, and not a dream or figment of her imagination. He looked just as gorgeous as ever, and he was watching her intently, waiting for a reaction, and she had to resist the urge to launch herself into his arms. Considering the way things had ended between them, and the current apprehension emanating from him, she didn't know why he was there, or what to expect.

When she said nothing at all, he finally spoke. "Can I come in and talk to you?"

"Sure." She opened the door wide, and after he entered, she led the way into the living room.

Turning to face him, she crossed her arms over her chest and met his gaze. An awkward silence settled between them, which she absolutely hated because it had never been like that with them before. They'd always been able to talk about everything and anything, and that was no longer the case.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked, for lack of something better to say.

"No, thanks," he replied, his tone low and rough… and just a bit uncertain, which matched the vulnerability and underlying fear shining in his eyes.

And that's when she realized the reason for his visit. Ben was a man who was strong and steady and sure. A man who'd learned to safeguard his emotions, and protect the heart that had been shattered more than just once. First, when his mother had walked out on him, and then when Kim had died in his arms.

But now, there were no walls, no defenses, and nothing to hide the wealth of feelings that she knew was all for her. But knowing was not enough. She had to hear the words from him.

"What do you want, Ben?" she asked, her soft whisper imploring him to open up and trust her, to believe in what they had together.

He exhaled a deep breath that unraveled into a groan. "The only thing I want, the only thing I need, is you."

Everything within her rejoiced, but outwardly she remained calm. "What changed?" She had to know.

"Me, hopefully." Sincerity rang true in his voice. His expression held no shutters, nothing closed off from her. "You're the first woman who has ever cared enough to pry out every painful secret I have, and force me to face some of my greatest fears, one of which is to take a chance and love someone again."

She held her breath, waiting and hoping…

"I love you, Christy," he said, his voice filled with such overwhelming confidence, such amazing certainty, that it brought tears to her eyes.

Finally, he closed the distance between them. He framed her face in his big, warm hands and stared deeply, adoringly, into her eyes, making her feel like the most precious thing in his life. And she believed it, too.

"I love the strong, generous, independent woman you are," he said, continuing his litany of fealty and devotion. "I love the way you make me laugh and smile. I love arguing with you and I love making love to you. And, I even love when you kick my ass in basketball," he added with a touch of humor.

She laughed around the emotion clogging her throat.

"But mostly, I love the way you make me feel when I thought I was dead inside, and that's something I can't, and don't want to live without."

She bit her bottom lip, and when she blinked, a tear rolled down her cheek.

He gently wiped away the moisture with his thumb, looking dismayed. "Why in the world are you crying?"

"Because I'm so happy," she said, knowing that as a guy, he wouldn't understand unless she explained. "With all the bad luck I've had with the men in my past, I never thought I'd ever get this lucky."

"I'm the lucky one," he insisted.

Okay, she wasn't going to argue with that. "I never knew what true love was, or what it felt like, until you. And I don't ever want the feeling to end."

"I won't let it. I promise." He brushed his lips across hers in a soft, featherlight kiss. "Marry me, Christy."

She pulled back, her eyes wide and hopeful. "Do you mean it?"

He released a long-suffering sigh. "For only about ten seconds, then the offer is off the table, so you need to decide fast," he teased.

"Yes," she said quickly, and threw her arms around his neck to hug him tight. "Yes, Ben, I'll marry you!"

She kissed him, deeply, her desire and love for this man knowing no boundaries. When they finally came up for air, she knew exactly how she wanted to get married—and it didn't include the kind of circus her mother would no doubt plan, given the chance.

"I want to elope," she told him, certain that would make him happy, too. "I want to go somewhere with you, just the two of us. I'm thinking somewhere sultry and romantic like Hawaii."

A grin quirked one corner of his sexy mouth. "Your mother would never forgive you."

"I'm okay with that." She threaded her fingers through his hair and pressed her body closer to his, rubbing her thighs sinuously against his, and generating a whole lotta heat in the process. "I don't want a big, huge, elaborate wedding, and I know you don't, either."

"But I would, for you."

She knew he meant it, and that was enough for her. "Thank you, but there's no need for either of us to go through eight months of planning hell." The thought made her shudder. She might plan other people's events for a living, but she'd been there, done that for herself, and it just wasn't for her personally. "And I really don't want to wait that long to get married."

"I'm ready anytime you are."

She wondered if next week was too soon for him. Now that she had Ben back in her life, she never wanted to let him go.

Then she thought of something she needed to tell him. "By the way, my parents are getting a divorce." For her, it was a huge relief, even though she knew her mother had a very rocky road ahead of her. And a lot of personal issues to deal with, as well.

"I know," he said quietly.

"You do?" She stared at him in shock. "How?"

He shrugged, and slid his hands around to her bottom as he walked her backward toward the long, wide couch, his intentions clear. "Your father told me."

She came to a stop before he could distract her further. "Wait a minute. You talked to my father?"

"Yeah." he admitted sheepishly. "Between him and Joel, they knocked some sense into me and made me realize what a fool I was for letting you go."

She grinned, making a mental note to thank both men when she got the chance. "They were both right, you know."

"Stop your gloating," he said in a playful growl.

He urged her back another step, then tumbled her onto the couch. She gasped as he came down on top of her, nestling his hips between her thighs until she could feel the press of his erection against the very heart of her. They were both still completely dressed, but she knew that wouldn't last much longer.

Face-to-face, he stared down at her, the love in his eyes nearly stealing her breath from her lungs. "How do you feel about having babies?"

She thought of two little boys that looked just like Ben, and maybe a girl to help balance out all that male testosterone. She wanted to give Ben the family he never had. "I want at least three."

"That works for me." He slid his hand beneath her skirt and trailed his fingers along her thigh. "In fact, I'm thinking we'd better start practicing, because it might take us a while to get it right."

She laughed, unable to contain the joy and happiness filling her to overflowing. "I couldn't agree with you more," she said, and pulled his mouth down to hers, ready to sacrifice herself to the cause, and more than willing to spend the rest of her life proving just how much she loved this man.

Turn the page for a special preview of

Sea Witch

by Virginia Kantra

Coming soon from Berkley Sensation!

IF she didn't have sex with something soon, she would burst out of her skin.

She plunged through the blue-shot water, driven by a whisper on the wind, a pulse in her blood that carried her along like a warm current. The lavender sky was brindled pink and daubed with indigo clouds. On the beach, fire leaped from the rocks, glowing with the heat of the dying sun.

Her mate was dead. Dead so long ago that the tearing pain, the fresh, bright welling of fury and grief, had ebbed and healed, leaving only a scar on her heart. She barely missed him anymore. She did not allow herself to miss him.

But she missed sex.

Her craving flayed her, hollowed her from the inside out. Lately she'd felt as if she were being slowly scraped to a pelt, a shell, lifeless and empty. She wanted to be touched. She yearned to be filled again, to feel someone move inside her, deep inside her, hard and urgent inside her.

The memory quickened her blood.

She rode the waves to shore, drawn by the warmth of the flames and the heat of the young bodies clustered there. Healthy human bodies, male and female.

Mostly male.

SOME damn fool had built a fire on the point. Police Chief Caleb Hunter spotted the glow from the road.

Mainers welcomed most visitors to their shore. But Bruce Whittaker had made it clear when he called that the islanders' tolerance didn't extend to bonfires on the beach.

Caleb had no particular objection to beach fires, as long as whoever set the fire used the designated picnic areas or obtained a permit. At the point, the wind was likely to carry sparks to the trees. The volunteers at the fire department, fishermen mostly, didn't like to be pulled out of bed to deal with somebody else's carelessness.

Caleb pulled his marked Jeep behind the litter of vehicles parked on the shoulder of the road: a tricked-out Wrangler, a ticket-me red Firebird, and a late-model Lexus with New York plates. Two weeks shy of Memorial Day, and already the island population was swelling with folks from Away, Caleb didn't mind. The annual influx of summer people paid his salary. Besides, compared to Mosul or Sadr City or even Portland down the coast, World's End was a walk on the beach. Even at the height of the season.

Caleb could have gone back to the Portland PD. Hell, after his medical discharge from the National Guard, he could have gone anywhere. Since 9/11, with the call-up of the reserves and the demands of homeland security, most big city police departments were understaffed and overwhelmed. A decorated combat veteran—even one with his left leg cobbled together with enough screws, plates, and assorted hardware to set off the metal detector every time he walked through the police station doors—was a sure hire.

The minute Caleb heard old Roy Miller was retiring, he had put in for the chief's job on World's End, struggling upright in his hospital bed to update his resume. He didn't want to make busts or headlines anymore. He just wanted to keep the peace, to find some peace, to walk patrol without getting shot at. To feel the wind on his face again and smell the salt in the air.

To drive along a road without the world blowing up around him.

He eased from the vehicle, maneuvering his stiff knee around the steering wheel. He left his lights on. Going without backup into an isolated area after dark, he felt a familiar prickle between his shoulder blades. Sweat slid down his spine.