Getting It Right! (5 page)

Fireworks detonated in her belly, pushing bright-colored flames of happiness and longing coursing through her blood until her knees buckled and she sagged against him. Beer still in hand, April wound her arms around his neck and aligned herself against him, savoring the feel of Ben’s mouth ravaging hers. Sucking, stroking…dark, seductive…and woefully familiar. He might have improved on the technique, but the flavor was still the same.

Positively sinful.

A lick of heat enflamed her sex and for the first time in over a year and a half, she felt the initial quickening of genuine arousal deep in her womb. With a mewl of pleasure, she smiled against his lips, pushed her free hand into the hair at his nape and excitedly deepened the kiss.

She’d been right. He could fix her. And the power to heal lay just behind his zipper.

Or in his fingers.

Or in his mouth.

And hell, for all she knew, in his feet.

Whatever it was, he had it in spades and she wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anyone. Could feel his fingers trembling against her face, his heart pounding wildly against her chest. Something about that quaking touch made her eyes involuntarily mist.

Oh, Ben,
she thought.

Much to her dismay, he reluctantly ended the kiss. “I want you,” he murmured, his voice a throaty purr. “Do you believe me now?”

Unable to speak, April nodded.

“Then I want you to trust me.” He nuzzled her neck. “You don’t need sex, April—you need a seduction.”

A broken chuckle erupted from her throat. Oh, but she begged to differ. She drew back, ready to argue, but he kissed her again silencing her protest.

“You just need someone to work for it—to work for
you,
” he continued. “You need someone who’ll walk across the street to feel the chill of your shadow. Someone who will show up at a pub every Friday night for the past year and a half just to breathe the same air. You need someone who will eat, breathe and live making you happy, making you
want.
By the time I truly bed you, you’re going to want me so desperately that you’ll come for me before I take you. Then I’ll take you and you’ll come again.”

She shuddered, shaken by the scenario he’d painted. “But I do want you.”

“No, you
desire
me. There’s a difference.”

“Semantics.”

He suckled her bottom lip once more. “Trust me,” he whispered.

And curiously, she did.

B
EN SLOWLY RELEASED HER
when every instinct he possessed screamed for him to hold on to her and never let her go. To strip her naked, then stretch her ripe body out on the rug beneath their feet and pump into her until every last bit of energy he possessed was gone, given to her.

And he would…but not right now. She wasn’t the only one who was going to have to be patient. He’d waited this long, dammit. A few more days—a week at the most—wouldn’t kill him. He smothered a laugh. It might drive him crazy, but death was hardly imminent.

In the meantime, there were some ground rules he felt they needed to cover. Ben slid a hand down her arm, laced his fingers through hers then tugged her back toward the couch.

“Before this goes any further, I want to lay out a few ground rules. Do you have any objections?”

Her plump bottom lip still swollen from his kiss, April shot him a look. “Depends on the rules,” she said warily, her clear green eyes suddenly guarded.

He tried not to laugh. “Okay. Rule Number One. For the next week, when I call, you come to me. No arguments, no buts, no excuses. I call, you come.”

High-handed? Yes. But necessary. For the next week, Ben was going to become her dream lover. Every move he made would be orchestrated for her pleasure, her enjoyment, her excitement and there was nothing more exciting than the courage to surrender and the thrill of the unknown.

When he called, she’d have to let go and then wonder what he had planned. Initially she’d resist, but in the end he knew she’d come to enjoy it…then wait for it. As with any reward, expectation was half the fun. He made a mental note to get her e-mail address, IM screen name and cell number.

Predictably, April didn’t look happy. She considered him thoughtfully, seemed to be weighing the ramifications which could arise out of a power-shifting deal. Finally, she nodded. “Okay. I’ll do that for you…provided you do that for me.
I
call,
you
come.”

Ben chuckled. He should have expected this. What the hell, he decided. This was her fantasy, after all. “Fine,” he agreed. “Now…Rule Number Two. Beyond tonight, no talking about our parents. Not your father, not my father, not your mother.” He couldn’t help the edge that entered his voice when he mentioned Morgana. “The past is the past and I want to leave it there.”
Vast under-statement,
he thought. “Understood?”

A perplexing line emerged between her brows and something in that clear green gaze sharpened and probed, attempting, he imagined, to penetrate his thoughts.

She bit her lip, shoved a handful of curly hair behind her ear. “Okay,” she said at last and Ben let go of a breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding. “But I want to clear the air about something first.”

Ben braced himself. This was a conversation long overdue—he owed it to her, he knew—but that didn’t keep him from dreading it with every fiber in his being. Frankly, having buzzards feast on his privates held greater appeal. Reluctantly, he nodded, silently giving her the go-ahead.

“My mother might have issued a you-can-look but-don’t-touch order, but
I
didn’t.” A sad smile
shaped her lips. “Did you respect her that much, or was I just not worth it?”

Ben swallowed. He knew he’d hurt her when they were younger, but until this very moment, he’d never realized exactly how much. An ache pricked his heart, and for the millionth time over the past ten years, he wished like hell that he had fought for her. That he’d told her mother to rot in hell and loved April the way he’d wanted to.

“Neither,” he said, his voice curiously rusty. “Believe me, April, I feel a lot of things for your mother, but—” he chuckled darkly “—respect isn’t one of them. As for you being worth it…” He looked up and caught her gaze. Difficult though it was, she deserved sincerity. Ben conjured a smile. “Babe, you were always worth it. Things just—Things just got complicated and I was young and stupid. Not much of an excuse, I know, but…” He shrugged, unable to tell her the whole truth. Repeating what her mother had told him only gave the bitch more power. He wouldn’t do it, wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. There were some people who were born simply to be the bane of mankind’s existence and Morgana Wilson was one of those people. There was no rhyme, reason or motivation for her hateful behavior. It just
was
.

April chewed the corner of her lip, seemingly absorbing his thin excuse for breaking her heart. Finally, she nodded. “Well, I know you’re older,” she said matter-of-factly. “Are you smarter?”

Ben laughed, oddly relieved. “I’m a genius.”

“Good,” she said. “I was hoping a little wisdom had come with age.” She paused. “She’ll hear about us, you know.” She rolled her eyes. “She hears about everything. I’m sure she has a guy on payroll just to keep her informed of my comings and goings. I, uh…I just want to make sure that you’re up for the fallout this time.”

He cocked his head and shrugged. “Let her bring it on,” he said, leaning back against the sofa. “We’re of age. It’s not like she can threaten me with statutory rape this time.”

April gasped. “What?”

Ben swore. He hadn’t meant to say that. Truth be told, Morgana’s threatening to charge him with statutory rape if he touched her daughter again hadn’t had anything to do with why he’d avoided April. It was the other little poisoned bombshells she’d dropped on his world that had prevented him from continuing their relationship. Nevertheless, it was the truth—better than “things got complicated,” at any rate. “I would have thought she’d told you.”

April scowled and her delicate jaw hardened. “She never told me anything.” She laughed bitterly. “No, I take that back. She’d told me that you were ‘a horny boy looking to dip your wick and that I was a fool if I thought I was special to you. Good riddance,’ she’d said.”

God, what a hateful bitch, Ben thought, every muscle atrophying with anger. “Did you believe her?”

April shrugged. “When you never came back? What choice did I have?” She said it offhand, as if it didn’t matter. But the melancholy look in her eyes said otherwise.

“I
was
horny,” Ben admitted. “Show me any teenage boy—or any man—who says he’s not and I’ll show you a liar.” He cleared his throat, lowered his voice. “But you
were
special, April.” She still was and he’d prove it to her this week.

Again, that sad smile. “You broke my heart.”

“And yet you asked for my help.”

“I asked for sex, Ben. I didn’t ask to pick up where we left off.”

His senses went on alert. “Is that a warning?”

She shook her head, seemed to be measuring him. “Just a clarification.”

“Are you opposed to it turning into more?” He
was, dammit. Or he should be. There were too many complications. What in the hell was he doing?

She hesitated. “I…I don’t know. Ask me again at the end of the week. So,” she said briskly, her crisp tone indicating a swift subject change. “Have you thought about what you’d like to see for your page?”

Back to business, to their deal. For whatever reason, the speedy departure from the personal to the jarring reminder of their agreement made Ben’s stomach sour. Just this morning he’d thought the idea of exchanging services was a good idea, but after one kiss and an awkward but therapeutic clear-the-air conversation, he was ready to abandon the plan. This was not good, he decided, irritated with himself. Losing focus this early into their reunion didn’t bode well.

“Er…yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. Ben quickly outlined what he thought would work.

“That gives me somewhere to start,” April said. “If you don’t mind, e-mail me a few sites that you find appealing. I’m not interested in copying them, I just want to make sure that we’re on the same page, so to speak. I’ll need a full bio, as well
as images of all the work you’d like featured on the site. If you wouldn’t mind, categorize them. You know, early work, middle years, and most recent. Also list any pertinent awards you’d like me to add.”

“I’ll have my secretary forward everything to you in the morning.”

“Excellent.” April glanced at her watch. “Well…it’s getting late. I, uh…I should go.”

Ben didn’t want her to leave, but he stood all the same. He accepted her beer, then set it aside and helped her from the sofa. Her small hand fit snugly in his, causing a warm tingling feeling to grow in his chest. Indigestion, he thought, knowing it was a lie.

“So what’s next?” April asked.

Ben smiled, and followed her through the house. “I’ll call you,” he said, alluding to Rule Number One.

“Not if I call you first,” April said, shooting a sly look over her shoulder. She paused by the back door. “I like this,” she said. “Talking to you again.”

Code for I’ve missed you, Ben decided, heartened by her sheepish admission. He sidled closer to her, let his gaze travel over the achingly famil
iar curves of her face. God, she was beautiful. “I’ve missed you, too.”

Ben lowered his head, pressed his lips lightly to hers—an appetizer of what was to come—then summoned the strength to draw back. “Until…”

She blinked a little drunkenly. “Until when?”

He grinned. “I guess we’ll see.”

A soft chuckle bubbled up her throat and, gratifyingly, he saw the first spark of adventure light those gorgeous green eyes. “Until when, then,” she said. And still smiling, she walked out into the night.

Too bad he couldn’t follow her, Ben thought. Home…To the ends of the earth…He passed a weary hand over his face and leaned against the doorjamb. Hell, he wasn’t picky.

Evidently just stupid. Because he didn’t stand a chance in hell of not falling in love with her all over again.

“…Y
ES
, L
EESA
, I got your note. I’ll get someone on those updates right away.” April quickly forwarded her client’s request to Margo, one of her assistants, then set to work on Ben’s site. As he’d said, his secretary had promptly sent her all of the necessary information this morning, with a promise to “extort” captions for the photos as well as a
welcome commentary for the home page from Ben as soon as possible.

Rather than working on other projects, April had come in this morning and pawned them off on her help. Since she was finding it impossible to think of anything other than Ben, she figured she might as well take advantage of her fixation and get to work on his design.

After poring over the information and photos that Claudette had sent her, and playing around with various backgrounds, April had eventually gone back to one photograph that had initially caught her eye.

It was a sepia-toned still-life print of a huge—at least two-hundred-year-old—gnarled live oak. Its massive trunk was knotty and weather-beaten, its branches just as twisted and worn. But there was something secure and almost…reverent about the space beneath the tree’s canopy. It was living history and live shelter, vulnerable, but strong. Dark, forbidding and peaceful.

A lot like Ben, she decided.

She was suddenly hit with an arousing thought—wouldn’t it be incredible to make love with Ben beneath the sheltering branches? Some
thing about the history, the permanence, the raw elemental power of nature and all it represented tugged at her.

After only the smallest bit of debate, she lightened the frame a couple of shades, then set it as the background. The various hues of brown and black achieved the dark, polished look she was aiming for. She’d inserted Ben’s equally mysterious black-and-white head shot in the upper left-hand corner—geez, the man was beautiful—then added a ragged parchment-paper-looking toolbar with the corresponding links across the top. The effect reminded her of an old postcard.

So far, so good, she thought, pleased with the way it seemed to be coming together. She’d send the initial mock-up—as well as a few others just for good measure—to Ben and see what he thought, but she fully expected him to be drawn to this design. It wasn’t conceit, just fact. She was usually pretty good at pegging what a client would like, what they would respond to. She could almost always—

April stilled as the little whistle that heralded an incoming Instant Message sounded in her quiet office. She saved her work, closed out of the program, then moved to her Internet window.

BenHayes: Hey, are you there?

April smiled, bit her lip and felt her heart begin to pound. Her belly gave an odd quiver.

AprilWilson: Yeah…I’m here.

BenHayes: Good, cause I want you here.

Her toes curled.

AprilWilson: Where is here? Am I supposed to be psychic?

BenHayes: Change into something pretty and meet me at the riverfront, pier eighteen in an hour.

Pier eighteen? she wondered. What was at pier eighteen?

AprilWilson: How do you know I’m not already wearing something pretty?

BenHayes: LOL, let me rephrase that—change into something *sexy* and meet me in an hour.

Ridiculously excited, April bit the inside of her cheek.

AprilWilson: Gotcha. Any hints?

BenHayes: Sorry, no. Just be there.

AprilWilson: I will….

Still wearing a goofy smile, April watched Ben log off, then kicked back in her chair and let her imagination run wild. Pier eighteen? She’d been thinking about this seduction he had planned—hell, how could she not?—and had expected him to take her to dinner first. Someplace quiet and expensive. Romantic. That’s usually what came to mind when one typically thought of romance.

But the last thing she expected was a trip to the waterfront in something sexy. She should have known better. There had never been anything typical about Ben Hayes.

Oh, hell, April thought as she bolted upright. She didn’t have time to sit around and fantasize about what he had planned for her—she had to get ready. She snagged her purse, bid a quick farewell to Margo and Joyce, then made the brisk walk up front to her house.

If she hurried, she’d have time to run a razor over her legs and work some magic with her hair.
As for the something sexy, she’d pull out her trusty little black dress and class it up with a pair of Emilio Pucci slingbacks. It wasn’t often that she’d splurge on something so expensive, but she’d been unable to resist the bright colors and cool style. Besides, every woman needed one pair of power shoes and the Pucci slingbacks were hers.