Only By Your Touch (21 page)

“Easy,” he murmured. “I’m not getting fresh, just trying to repair the damage.” In the dim light, his white teeth flashed in a grin. “Just relax.”

For Chloe, under even the best of circumstances, that was easier said than done. His hard knuckles lightly grazed her throbbing breast. He went suddenly still, his shimmering gaze holding hers. The heat of his hand radiated over her skin until it felt almost hot, and a tingling sensation moved through her, taking away the pain. It was the loveliest feeling, like sunlight sparkling inside her. At the edge of her mind, Chloe was surprised. The physical contact should have made her heart leap. Oddly, though, she felt neither threatened nor nervous now. Instead she just felt wonderfully relaxed and yearned to lean toward him. He smiled slightly as he moved away.

“Now for the hair.” He lifted a hip and drew a comb from the back pocket of his jeans. “Look at me.”

“I can fix it.”

He crooked a finger under her chin. “I know, but you’re still a little shaky.”

He attacked her tangled curls, taking care not to pull when the teeth of the comb snagged. His gentleness worked on her battered emotions like a balm.

“I love your hair,” he whispered. His mouth twitched at one corner, and even in the faint moonlight, she saw a twinkle enter his eyes. “All the curls, I guess, and that fiery copper color when the sun strikes it. Mine’s dull black and straight as a board.”

Chloe thought his hair was beautiful—a glistening jet black that shone like polished obsidian.

“I like your skin, too.” He stopped combing to grin at her. “If only we’d met a hundred and fifty years ago, I’d snatch you up, toss you over my horse, and ride off with you into the sunset.”

Chloe could picture him—gloriously dark and strong, wearing nothing but buckskin pants and moccasins, his muscular chest streaked with war paint. “I would have been a very uncooperative captive.”

He abandoned all pretense of fixing her hair and cupped her chin in his hand. “Pretty to look at, though. And worth the trouble, I think.”

Chloe had never engaged in such a silly conversation. “You really are a little crazy, Ben Longtree.”

“Maybe so. Probably so. I’ll definitely wish I hadn’t done this tomorrow.”

Chloe knew then that he was going to kiss her. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. With the grocery sacks running interference, it took him a moment to close in.

“Ben?” she whispered.

His only response was a low, “Hmm?”

Chloe couldn’t remember what she’d meant to say.

Then, his voice throbbing in the darkness, he said, “Don’t be nervous. I’d never hurt you.”

“I know. I just—”

“You just what?”

His dark face drew closer. His breath wafted over her cheek, smelling faintly of coffee and mint, a
pleasant combination. “I don’t—it’s been a year and a half. I’m not sure I remember how.”

He chuckled. “It’s like riding a bike.”

“The last time I rode a bike, I crashed and peeled the hide off my knees and elbows.”

“Ah, but this time, you have me here to steady your balance.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, he bent his dark head and feathered his lips lightly over her cheek. The teasing caress made her breathing hitch again, and she forgot all about the mechanics. Suddenly all she could see, all she could feel was this man, and her thoughts scattered like chaff in the wind.

He made her feel—oh, Chloe couldn’t think how to describe it. Wonderful. Ben made her feel wonderful. When their lips finally touched, she melted into the kiss, and her hands found their way to his shoulders, where muscles played in an enticing ripple of strength. Yet he was so gentle. Taking his time, he nibbled lightly at her mouth, tasting her as if she were a rare delicacy.

Chloe’s bones felt as if they were dissolving, and it was all she could do not to cling when he started to pull away. He gazed down at her afterwards, his expression gentle. “When you go to sleep tonight,” he whispered, “take the memory of that with you into your dreams. Try to forget what happened earlier.”

She realized then that he knew she was far more upset over the incident than she was letting on. She was touched that he cared but not really surprised. She was quickly coming to understand that Ben’s feelings ran deep and that he was sensitive in ways a lot of men weren’t.

At the thought, Chloe put on her mental brakes. She couldn’t let herself start to care for him. When it
came right down to it, she still knew very little about him, and he didn’t seem inclined to correct that situation by sharing information about himself.

She reached for the door handle. “Thank you for the ride, Ben. I was a little farther from home than I realized when you stopped to pick me up.”

“You take care,” he said softly. “And don’t worry about coming up to the ridge in the morning. Sleep in and rest up. What I don’t get done in the morning, you can finish in the afternoon.”

She nodded and opened the door. “I may take you up on that. Sleep sounds really good right now.”

After she climbed from the truck and slammed the door, he backed from her driveway. Chloe stood there to watch him drive out of sight, but he stayed on the road, waiting until she safely reached her door. She smiled as she hurried up the steps. Maybe she didn’t know all that she would have liked about Ben Longtree, but she felt sure of one thing: He never would have treated her the way Bobby Lee had tonight.

Ben drove fast and crazily the remainder of the way home, not caring when the truck hit chuckholes and almost bounced off the road. He was in over his head and going under fast. At the outset, all he’d wanted was sex, damn it—mutually enjoyable and uncomplicated sex. He’d yet to come close, and now things were getting very complicated.

He kept reminding himself there was no future in it and that caring for Chloe would only bring him pain, but his heart wasn’t listening.
Why the hell did I kiss her?
Now that he’d had a taste of her, he craved more. He needed to get his head on straight. If he didn’t, and damned fast, he was going to be so far gone, there’d be no turning back.

Nan was awake and rattling around in the kitchen when Ben entered the house. Juggling grocery sacks, he stepped over to the security console to turn off the alarm, which he always set when he left her alone at night.

“Hi,” he said as he entered the kitchen. Diablo came over to greet him. Ben set the bags on the counter and bent to stroke the wolf’s head as he took in his mother’s activities. “Mom, you know how I worry when you use the stove. Let me put this stuff away, and I’ll make the cocoa.”

Nan shuffled over to the table and sat down. Her eyes never left Ben as he quickly emptied the grocery bags. When he turned to finish making her hot drink, she said, “You’re troubled about something.”

Ben threw her a surprised look. It never failed to unsettle him when her mind suddenly clicked into gear. “Not really.”

“Remember me? I’m your mother. I know when you’re upset.”

Ben supposed there was a lot of truth to that. He tapped the spoon on the edge of the pot and laid it on the butcher block. “That’s a pretty robe.”

Nan smiled and smoothed a hand over the embroidered yoke. “Don’t try to distract me.”

The blue of the garment complemented her eyes. She was still a lovely woman, Ben thought. Sometimes when he looked at her—really looked—he wondered how his father could have taken her for granted all those years. Unfortunately Hap had—and he’d broken her heart a fair thousand times in the process. At some point, he’d almost killed her love for him. What a waste. Ben would have given his right arm to have a woman love him like that.

“What are you so upset about?” she asked.

The milk began to steam. Ben gave it another stir,
removed it from the flame, and poured it into the mug his mother had set on the work island. “Here you go, madam. Anything else I can get you?”

“This is lovely. Thank you. Now answer my question.”

Ben turned his attention to preparing Diablo and Methuselah their nightly snack. “I’m not upset, just exhausted. For two cents, I’d hit the sack early and forget about working tonight.”

“Do it, then. How long’s it been since you got a full night’s sleep?”

“I’ve lost track.”

She turned the mug in her slender hands. “I worry about you.”

“Yeah, well, my deadline looms. I don’t have much wiggle room right now. Surgery on the bear took a big chunk of my time today.”

“How’s he doing? Will he live, do you think?”

“I dug out the slug, and I’ve got him on strong antibiotics. He’ll recover fine. It was just a hectic day.”

She nodded. “You’re misjudging Chloe.” When Ben gave her a baffled look, she smiled. “She wouldn’t turn you in. She’s proved that, hasn’t she?”

“I’m not still worried about her turning me in, Mom.”

“What, then?”

Ben closed the meat drawer. “How many wild pets can I conceivably have? I keep making excuses, and so far, she’s accepted them. But an excuse wouldn’t fly with a full-grown black bear.”

“So you went to incredible lengths, building that travois and hauling the poor thing up to the cave? Why not just tell her the truth?”

A tight feeling banded Ben’s chest. He avoided meeting his mother’s eyes. “The truth? I tried that once. It destroyed my marriage and damned near
landed me in jail for the rest of my life. It was a hard lesson, but I learned it well. It’s best, all the way around, to keep some things to myself.”

“Chloe isn’t Sherry, Ben. She’s got a heart of gold.”

“Can we talk about something else?”

“Your gift is beautiful, Ben, not something to feel ashamed of. I can understand your not wanting just anyone to know, but Chloe has become a good friend. She won’t tell anyone.”

Ben held up a hand. “Mama, I love you, but you’re stepping over the line. End of discussion, all right?”

After taking Tracy home, Chloe returned to the house, poured a glass of wine, and headed to the bathroom to disinfect the abrasion on her chest. After unearthing the peroxide, she unpinned her torn blouse, peeled back the silk, and froze in midmotion. Where was the gouge? She blinked, thinking maybe she was so exhausted that her eyesight had gone blurry. But upon closer inspection, there was still nothing there but a smear of dried blood. She drew back the other side of her blouse, thinking it might have been on her other breast. Nothing.

Bewildered, she touched a fingertip to the streak on her skin. Then she tugged the lace cups of her bra away to check inside. Both her breasts looked perfectly fine, and even more amazing, they no longer ached from the brutal dig of Bobby Lee’s fingers. How strange.

Okay—so where had the blood come from? She raised her chin to check her throat. Nothing. Stripping down to her slacks, she twisted at the waist to examine all sides of her torso. There wasn’t a mark on her, not even a bruise.

She remembered how Ben’s hand had pressed against her—the tingling warmth that had moved
slowly through her. The burning and aching in her breasts had stopped then.
What am I thinking?

She needed to get a grip. There was a perfectly rational explanation. The scratch—or what she’d mistaken for a scratch—had been nothing but a smear of blood, which had undoubtedly come from Bobby Lee’s nose when she punched him. She’d given the jerk a nosebleed.

She grinned at her reflection.
Way to go, Chloe.
Her brother Rob would be so proud of her. As far as that went, she was pretty proud of herself.
Take that, you schmuck
.

Schuck—schmuck. Chloe giggled at the similarity. It was so good she almost regretted that she couldn’t go in to work the next night and call Bobby Lee that to his face.
Good evening, Deputy Schmuck. Is it my imagination, or is your nose a bit swollen?

Chloe released a big sigh of regret. Ah well. She’d gotten in a good lick. She turned off the bathroom light and smiled all the way to the bedroom. A nosebleed. Imagine that. He’d think twice before he messed with her again.

B
en seldom drank, but he made an exception that night. After pouring himself a precise measure of whiskey from a bottle left over from Hap Longtree’s stores, he adjourned to the living room to sit by the fire. He thought of Hap as he took the first sip of liquor.

The smell of the stuff almost turned his stomach. Disgusted by the memories that swamped him with each whiff, Ben tossed the remaining contents of the tumbler onto the fire. A whoosh of flame momentarily brightened the room, the fiery flashes of red reminding him of Chloe’s hair.

Ben conjured a picture of her face, mentally tracing the delicate curve of her cheek and the stubborn tilt of her small chin. He particularly loved her eyes, all big and wary much of the time. And therein was half his problem, he decided. It was difficult to run scared when she obviously feared the feelings erupting between them even more than he did.

He remembered how sweet and tremulous her mouth had felt when he kissed her. Her lower lip had been slightly swollen, undoubtedly from the grind of the other man’s teeth. The thought had Ben knotting his fists and wishing for five minutes alone with the
bastard. Chloe had been right to withhold the man’s name. He was in a murderous mood, all his pacifist convictions overshadowed by fierce feelings of protectiveness.

He sighed and let his head fall back to stare sightlessly at the ceiling. When his mother entered the room moments later, he pretended to be asleep. He was in no mood to talk with her any more tonight.

Nan came over to lightly touch his hair. He nearly smiled when she checked his forehead for fever. No matter how confusing his life became, some things never changed, and her love was one of them. It humbled him to admit it, but he often felt like a lost child when she grew disoriented and didn’t know him. It filled him with a terrible sense of loss and dread, because deep down he knew that someday soon she would slip away and never come back.

If his life had been a normal one, the thought of losing his mother to the disease might not have made him feel quite so bereft. Ah, but there was the hitch. He wasn’t normal, and he’d long since accepted that he never would be. Other men fell in love and built lives apart from their parents, but Ben no longer had that hope. Forty years from now, he would be a palsied, frail old man, isolated on a mountain ridge with only the animals for company. There would be no woman with snow in her hair to sit beside him on the porch at night and reminisce about days gone by, no kids to flock home for the holidays, and no grandchildren to comfort him in his old age.

In short, when he lost his mother, he would lose his last link to family. His sister Karen had her own life now—one that she’d worked hard to build. Ben rarely saw her or her children. He had a hunch it was avoidance by design, and he didn’t blame Karen for that. Her memories of her childhood were as unpleasant as
his. Granted, Hap’s venom had been directed mostly at Ben, but Karen hadn’t entirely escaped, and neither had their mother.

Thinking of that, Ben reached up to clasp his mom’s hand. Drawing it from his forehead, he kissed the backs of her fingers. Feeling the fragility of her bones made his chest go tight. She was a study of contrasts. As a small child, he’d wished a thousand times for her to simply walk out, but Nan hadn’t been cut from that cloth. She’d remained loyal to the man she loved, even when his vision had been so blurred with drink, he couldn’t see her.

Some people might brand her a coward for not taking a stand to shield her children, but Ben never would. She had put herself in harm’s way too many times, taking the brunt of Hap’s rage while he hid in the closet with his arms crossed over his head to block out the terrible sounds. Later, when he grew older, he’d stood his ground and taken the beatings himself rather than see his mother be hurt. But, even so, he had never forgotten the times when he hadn’t.

Courage
was a word with countless definitions. Chloe had a glorious strength and determination that were visible to all who knew her. A woman like Nan Longtree seemed pale and timid by comparison. But for all that, Ben admired his mother. Nan was a brave woman in her way, and she’d done her best. When Ben started to feel bitter because her best hadn’t been good enough, he had only to remember the countless injuries she had endured for his sake. How could he feel resentment toward someone who had proved over and over that she loved him more than she loved herself?

“Love you, Mom.”

She curled the tips of her fingers over his. “I know,” she whispered.

That says it all,
Ben thought.

He pretended to drift back to sleep, and as he hoped, his mother took that as her cue to shuffle away. Lifting his lashes, he gazed after her as she vanished into the deepening shadows.
Yes, vastly different from Chloe,
he thought.

And since when had Chloe Evans become his gold standard for women? Ben studied the moonbeams that shone through the window, recalling the shine of her hair. No matter where his mind wandered, it seemed to circle back to her. That worried him. And frightened him. Maybe he should take his mother’s advice and be up-front with her about everything. That would send her running—and end this madness, once and for all.

Thinking about it gave Ben a headache. Rubbing his eyes and leaning back in the recliner, he willed himself into that shadowy, half-aware state just this side of sleep, his body relaxed, his mind drifting. Perhaps because he’d just been thinking of his childhood, images of his father slipped into his mind. Hap, staggering into the house late at night with a half-full jug of cheap whiskey dangling from his fist. Hap, slapping a cold pot of spaghetti off the stove and bellowing at Nan because she had no hot meal waiting for him at midnight. Hap, standing on the back porch of a morning, badly hungover and whiskey mean, shooting at the animals that had wandered into the yard overnight.

As those memories took center stage in Ben’s mind, he shifted and slowly surfaced back to full awareness. But even awake, he felt chilled. His father’s aim had been poor after a night of hard drinking, and his unfortunate targets had often escaped into the nearby forest to endure slow, agonizing deaths. It had fallen to Ben to find them later and try to help them.
Unfortunately, his gift for healing had always had its limitations. It had been his inability to help so many of the animals that had first made him dream of becoming a vet.

“Damn,” he whispered raggedly, willing the memories away.

Kicking down the footrest, he sat forward on the recliner, elbows braced on his knees, head in his hands. Over the last several weeks, with so many wounded animals seeking him out, Ben had thought more than once that he was living through some kind of weird reenactment of his childhood. He knew it was madness. But sometimes he couldn’t shake the feeling that his father was reaching out from the grave.

On one level, Ben knew it was impossible. Hap was dead, for God’s sake. He couldn’t be responsible. And yet the similarities couldn’t be ignored. Each time Ben found a wounded animal, he was swept back in time, and everything he did, everything he thought, seemed eerily the same, as if the last twenty years had never happened, and he was a kid again, trying to undo the damage done by his father.

It definitely wasn’t Hap shooting the animals; Ben knew that. But couldn’t it be someone else who knew of those incidents and was deliberately reenacting them to get back at Ben for something? All the animals had been shot near his house. Someone, it seemed, wanted Ben to find them.

Ben got up to pace. The more he thought about it, the more certain he became that he’d just solved part of the puzzle. It made an awful kind of sense. Everyone knew how he felt about animals. What better way to hurt him than to go after the things he loved most? Now, to answer the next most obvious question, whom did he know who might hate him that much?

Bobby Lee Schuck.

Braking to a stop, he stared thoughtfully into the fire. An almost forgotten memory came rushing back to him of Bobby Lee stumbling upon him in the woods while he was working over a wounded coyote. He’d been about fourteen at the time, Bobby Lee a year older. Bobby Lee had snorted in disgust and laughed at Ben for being such a bleeding heart. There had been a bounty on coyotes at the time.

“Any normal person would whack off his ears and collect the ten bucks,” Bobby Lee had jeered. “But not pussy Ben. I got a dollar that says it was your daddy who shot it, too!”

Ben had leaped to his feet, angry enough to forget everything his grandfather had taught him. “Go away, Bobby Lee!” he’d cried. “You’re trespassing on Longtree land.”

“Yeah, so you say, but true Shoshones didn’t believe in owning land.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I can read, you dumb ass. I know lots of stuff about them. A Shoshone warrior could have several wives. Did you know that? And he was automatically married to any woman he took. The wedding ceremony that came after was just for looks, and a warrior’s firstborn son was always number one, no matter who his damned mother was.” Bobby Lee pointed a finger at Ben and laughed again. “The way your father screws around, no telling how many kids he’s got in Jack Pine. And by Shoshone law, every one of them has as much right to his name as you do!”

“Get out of here!” Ben cried.

“Who’s gonna make me? Not a pussy like you, that’s for sure.” The coyote had gone into its death throes just then, prompting Bobby Lee to mimic the muscle jerking. “Oh, do I see tears? Duh poor widdle
coyote’s gonna die. Where’s your Shoshone magic now, dickhead? Did you forget to bring your grandpa’s medicine pouch?”

Ben was shaking when he surfaced from that memory. He closed his eyes, willing the rage to abate, but it was a very long while before it did.

The next morning, Ben jerked awake to the sound of his mother’s voice. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, wondering why there was sunlight hitting him in the face. He rarely slept in the daytime. In fact, for the last few weeks, he’d barely slept at all.

“You were so exhausted you passed out in the chair,” Nan scolded. “Now, I ask you. Wouldn’t you have rested better in bed like a normal person? But, oh, no, there’s that deadline of yours. As if you got any work done, sitting up all night.”

Ben groaned and flexed his shoulders as he sat up. “Mom?” He squinted to bring her into focus. When he saw that she was wearing jeans and sturdy boots, he said, “What time is it?”

“Seven-thirty.” She gestured at the windows behind him, which caught the morning sun. “It’s so gorgeous out. I thought I’d take a little walk.”

Ben rubbed his face again. After seven? He needed to go check on the bear and tend to the other animals up at the cave. He was glad now that he’d told Chloe to sleep in and skip coming up this morning. He was running so late he’d never get out of here before eight, and he didn’t want to explain where he was going.

“A walk?” He struggled to clear his head as he met his mother’s worried regard. “Will you be sure to stay on the property?”

“Of course. Down to the log deck and back. That’s about as far as these tired old legs can carry me
anymore.” Nan ran a hand over his hair. “At least you got some rest, even if it was in a chair. That’s better than nothing, I guess.”

Ben stifled a yawn. “Take Diablo with you, all right?” Whenever Nan ventured from the yard, Ben sent the canine with her. If, by chance, Nan grew confused and got lost, the wolf could lead her home or, failing that, at least show Ben where she’d gone. “I don’t like you walking alone.”

“Diablo’s a good walking companion. I’ll be happy to take him.” She started to turn away, then paused. “I’ll rest for a bit by the log deck before I walk back. If I’m gone a bit longer than you think I should be, don’t fret.”

It was only a quarter mile to the log deck. Even if she took a break, she’d be back before he was ready to leave for the cave. “I’m going to grab a shower.” He pushed to his feet and kissed her cheek. “We’ll have a little breakfast when you get back. Something easy this morning. How does oatmeal sound?”

“Lovely.” Nan snapped her fingers. “Let’s go, Diablo. This crazy old woman isn’t allowed to go walking without an escort.”

Ben smiled and shook his head. His mother was in fine form this morning. She rarely had lucid spells that lasted this long. Last night, she’d been feeling pretty good, and now this morning, she still was. It was nice, and made him feel as if he had his mother back.

Fifteen minutes later, Ben heard voices when he stepped from the shower. He cocked his head, listened for a moment, and then swore under his breath as he toweled off. Chloe. He’d told her to forget coming this morning, but that was definitely her voice.

He made fast work of throwing on some clothes
and didn’t bother to shave. One benefit to being part Indian was a sparse beard and little body hair.

“Oh!” Chloe reeled to a stop when he emerged from the master bedroom directly into her path. She held a bundle of soiled bedding in her hands. Her hair, caught at the crown of her head in a wildly curly ponytail, looked delightfully mussed and made a man want to mess it up even more. “You startled me. I saw your mom on the road. I figured you were out walking with her.”

He shoved at his wet hair. “I sent Diablo with her.”

Her cheeks turned a pretty pink. “Well.” She smiled and shrugged. “Hi.”

Jeremy wheeled into the hall behind her and braked to a fast halt when he saw Ben. He launched himself at Ben’s legs. “You’re here!”