Cowboy Casanova (34 page)

“Why are you here today? You should be home in bed.”

Leslie sneezed. Coughed. Then blew her nose. Twice. “Sorry. I’m behind. I can’t afford to miss a day.”

“How much are you accomplishing today anyway?”

“Probably not much.” She let her head fall back into the headrest. “I feel like death.”

“You should’ve called in sick.”

“I tried to, but Jenny transferred me to Turton instead of you. Turton said sick pay didn’t kick in for thirty days. So if I didn’t show up, my check would get docked. You know Roger and I are still trying to get on our feet after both of us being laid off for six months. I need this job. I’ll be fine. I’ve gone to work far sicker than this.”

“I don’t care. You’re going home. And I don’t want to see you back here until you’re really better. I will handle the sick pay issue with human resources, understand?”

Leslie sneezed and reached for a tissue. “Thanks, A.”

“Anything pressing I need to handle for you today?”

“No. Just cancel the loan appointments for this afternoon.”

She’d pass that job to Jenny. “Consider it done. Are you okay to drive?”

“I’m fine. It’s not that far. I might squeeze in a few hours sleep before the kids get home from school.” She handed Ainsley her appointment book. “The names and numbers are in here.”

Ainsley passed Turton’s office. His door was shut, as were his shades. She checked the time. He should be back from lunch by now. She wandered to Jenny’s desk. “Where’s Turton?”

Jenny stopped flipping through a magazine. “He’s taking the afternoon off as a personal day. Why?”

So it was fine for him to screw off? But he expected Leslie to stick around when she was hacking up a lung? “I hadn’t seen him since this morning.” She dropped the appointment book on Jenny’s magazine. “You’ll need to politely cancel Leslie’s appointments for today as soon as possible and tell the clients she’ll call them to reschedule.”

“But—”

“No excuses. And from now on, you will transfer all employee calls dealing with sicknesses and absences to me, not Turton. Understand?”

She lowered her gaze to the planner. For once, Jenny didn’t have a smart remark.

Ainsley finished verifying Ben’s financials. She should probably wait to send it off to the main office, but since Leslie was already behind, she didn’t want to add to the burden with a straightforward loan request. After she made copies, she stuffed the originals in a next day envelope.

Sealing that envelope gave her a strange feeling of finality she wasn’t ready for. She’d liked how things were growing and changing between them. Not only when he slipped into Dom mode, but when he was just Ben.

She’d miss the way he called her
angel
. The way he’d growl it against her skin. She’d miss the way he pushed her to accept what she was. The way he wouldn’t let her hide from herself or from him. The way he gave her what she’d needed for so long but hadn’t the guts to admit it she’d wanted.

This was temporary. And he’d rather have the money than you.

How long had he known he’d needed a loan? And what would he have done if she’d refused to help him? Would it have strained their Dom/sub relationship? Or ended it completely?

No way to know now, but she couldn’t help but feel a little used and a lot disappointed.

Through all her questions and doubt about what could’ve been, she still felt his pull. She wondered how long she could stay away from him.

Not long, as it turned out. But she’d convinced herself it was a matter of necessity, not personal choice.

She paced, clutching the phone. “Ben? Are you really busy right now?”

“Why? What do you need?”

Then she felt ridiculous and almost gave him a breezy,
Oh no reason, just calling to see how you are
, rather than coming across as incapable.

“Ainsley? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want you to think I’m inept or that I only called because I needed something, although both those statements are true—”

“Take a deep breath, angel, and tell me what’s goin’ on.”

“My bathroom sink is leaking and I can’t figure out what’s wrong and I can’t get ahold of the landlord.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Really? Just like that?”

“Just like that. Be there in fifteen.”

She gathered the wet towels and tossed them in the tub. After piling clean towels on the toilet, she sat on the floor, listening to the
drip drip drip
of water into the plastic pail beneath the sink.

When her cats tore down the hallway she knew Ben had arrived, even before he called out, “Ainsley?”

“In here,” she yelled back. Her heart flipped over when he entered the bathroom. The man looked even sexier carrying a toolbox than he did carrying his toy bag.

Ben flashed her a brief smile and, “Hey,” before crouching down with his toolbox. “When did you notice the leak?”

“After work. I was in that cabinet this morning and it wasn’t leaking then.”

He turned on a flashlight and the beam arced inside the cabinet. He stuck his head under the sink. “Looks like the nut to the cold water valve is loose. Here. Hold this.” He handed her the flashlight and he rummaged in his toolbox. When he found the tool he needed, he scooted under the sink. “Can you point the light where I’ve got the pipe wrench?”

“Sure.” In such tight quarters, she pressed her body to the outside of the cabinet and held the light steady.

A couple of hard clanks, a loud screech and then water spewed forth.

Ben jerked back, hit his head under the sink and yelled, “Fuck.”

“You okay?”

“Hold that flashlight steady.”

Water was still spraying everywhere.

Another loud clank and the water stopped abruptly.

“What happened?”

“Some idiot forgot to turn the water off before he started fucking with the pipe.” He grunted. “That was fun. Can you hand me a towel?”

“Here.”

“Thanks.” When Ben backed out from beneath the sink, Ainsley gasped because he was soaking wet—hair, face, neck and shirt.

“Look at you. I’m so sorry.” Ainsley ducked into the cabinet and used a bath towel to sop up the mess. “What’s the diagnosis?”

“The pipe threading is stripped because the calcium deposits are abrasive. You’ll have to use the kitchen sink until your landlord can get this fixed. I don’t have the right plumbing supplies.”

When she backed out and stood, she noticed Ben had removed his shirt. Look at that. Broad shoulders, pumped-up biceps. Smooth skin. Even as her brain yelled
stop
, her fingers heard
go
. She traced the hard ridge of pectoral muscle. “You never really let me touch you however I wanted.”

Ben tipped her chin up and gazed into her eyes. “I didn’t?”

“No. You were always making our…encounters about furthering my education about the Dom/sub relationship.”

He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. “I’d let you touch me now.”

“Ben.”

“But you’d much rather I commanded you to touch me, wouldn’t you? Should I? Ainsley, put your hands all over me.”

That deep, Dom voice traveled through her ear and unfurled inside her like liquid heat, like a drug. She had to twist away from him to hide the longing in her eyes. But longing for what? “I can’t.”

“I know.” He kissed the top of her head. “I should go.”

“But your shirt is soaking wet. You might catch cold if you go home with a wet head. The least I can do is wash and dry it for you, while saving you from possibly getting sick.” Did that sound like a flimsy excuse to him?

“I never get sick.” He raised an eyebrow. “Besides, you think that’s a good idea, given what we were? Just last night?”

Of course he reminded her of his Dom role at every opportunity. “I believe we can keep our hands to ourselves for an hour or so, don’t you?”

He shook his head
no
and said, “Yes.”

Ainsley laughed and snatched the shirt. She was surprised Ben followed her to the small laundry area.

“On the way over here I was kinda hopin’ you’d answer the door in heels and an apron. Then you’d say something like,
I need a guy with a big tool to check out my plumbing
. And I’d reply,
I know how to plunge deep
.”

“You imagined I’d lured you over here with a fake porn scenario?” It boosted her ego Ben believed she could conjure up such a sexy scene. “I didn’t know you watched porn.”

“All guys watch porn.” He grinned and towel dried his hair. “Them guys that say they don’t are lyin’. We never watched porn together. Pity. There are lots of scenes I would’ve loved to act out with you.”

She started the washer and her focus caught on his incredible chest again. Right. He needed to cover up. “I’ll find you a shirt.”

Just to be ornery, she picked her Cat Lover T-shirt.

Ben caught it one handed and slipped it over his head. “Speaking of cats…they raced outta the room the instant I stepped foot inside. They hate me.”

“Because you smell like dog. Your dogs hate me because I smell like cat.”

“Mmm. But I like how your pussy smells.”

“Bennett McKay.”

He laughed. “Hand me the remote. We’ve already missed ten minutes of
Wheel
.”

Ainsley sat next to him, like she always did. Bennett jerked her close to his body like he always did. Only when the show ended did she remember they weren’t supposed to be twined together. He wasn’t supposed to be touching her. She wasn’t supposed to have her head on his shoulder.

Almost as if he’d read her mind, he murmured, “Sorry. Habit.” His fingers trailed across her forearm three more times before he released her.

She stood and retreated to the kitchen. He followed. Closely. “Look, your shirt still isn’t dry. Why don’t you stay for dinner? It’s nothing fancy. Just a skillet pot pie.” When Ben didn’t respond, she backtracked. “But don’t feel obligated. I’m sure you have better things to—”

He growled that Dom-like warning, curling his hand around her jaw, destroying her protests and her mind with a prolonged, soft-lipped kiss packed with sweet heat. His kisses alone could rocket her into that sublime floaty space.

Her lips tingled when he pulled back. His face was pure Dom. “I want you. Now. Bent over the table with that kitchen towel tyin’ your hands together behind your back.”

She tumbled backward into the counter. “No.”

“You don’t get to say
no
to me, sub.”

“I’m not your sub anymore, remember?”

Immediately Ben froze. He shoved his hands in his pockets and took two big steps back. “Have I mentioned how much I fucking hate that?”

Remind him he brought this on himself. Reset the boundaries and make this about business.
“I sent your loan paperwork off today.”

“Find anything in my financials worth mentioning?” he asked tightly.

“You make a lot more off your furniture sideline than what I’d expected. So that’s on the plus side of getting loan approval, since it’s enough income to make the monthly payments.”

“Any idea on how long it’ll be before you know for sure?”

She shrugged. “Next week probably.”

Then he was invading her space again. “And then what, Ainsley?”

“What do you mean?”

“Our official business will be over. Can we pick up where we left off?”

“Oh, you mean us sneaking around? You bossing me around in private?” She shook her head. “That ship has sailed for us. Our month would’ve been up next week anyway.” Ainsley realized she’d literally let him back her into a corner. “Back off, Ben, or I will snap you in the crotch with this dishtowel.”

He put his hands up and looked at the towel twisted in her hands. “Fine. Sorry. But we will talk about it later.”

It was telling how comfortable they’d gotten with each other that no awkwardness lingered even after that exchange. She told him a few funny stores from her vagabond childhood. He told her about being raised with his McKay cousins. It was weirdly like they were on a first date. It was…nice. Normal. Relaxing.

Ben peered through the clear lid on the skillet. “That’s it? Two big cans of condensed vegetable beef soup, a cup of cream and plop a can of biscuits on top?”

“That’s it.” A tickle started in her nose and she reached for a tissue. She sneezed. Loudly. Three times in a row. “Maybe I’ll lay off the pepper next time.” She sniffled. “I forgot to ask if you wanted a beer.”

“Didn’t think you were a beer drinker.”

“I’m not. I bought it for you last week, in case you ever dropped over.”

He offered her a deeply dimpled smile. “I’ll drop over more often.”