Straddling the Line (7 page)

Lord.

Ben’s chest—strong and hard against her back—shook for the briefest of moments. He was laughing at her. “Yeah, well, the business operates on razor-thin margins. My personal margins are not nearly as sharp—or as skinny.”

His own money. He’d paid for all of this out of his own pocket. Her mouth went dry. Of course she’d had a couple of people cut her a check before—usually out of a combination of pity and leave-me-alone contempt. This was different. She knew good and well that time was money to a man like Ben Bolton—and he’d spent both on her school. On her.

His hand left her waist and trailed across her back before finding her other hand. He stepped away. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he laced his fingers with hers. “Come. See.”

Beaming from ear to ear, Mom had kids emptying the van like it was a bucket brigade and the school was on fire. Clarinets, trumpets, amps, guitars, a complete drum kit—one piece at a time, a music teacher’s dream come true—made its way into the school.

Ben let go of her hand mere seconds before Mom saw them and hurried over. “Isn’t it wonderful, sweetie? Mr. Bolton—”

“Sandra, I told you to call me Ben.”

The two of them grinned like they were on a second date, and Josey decided that she’d entered an alternate universe. There was just no other rational explanation for her mother to be smiling warmly at a white man, or Don to be following the same white man’s directions, or a hard-rock guitarist to be handing out drumsticks like it was Halloween, for God’s sake. None.

“Of course.
Ben
is just an answer to our prayers.” Her mom turned shining eyes to him. “We cannot thank you enough for this.”

“Sandra?” Stick called to her from the front steps of the school, and Mom excused herself. What next? Hell’s Angels would swoop out of nowhere and finish the shop this afternoon, like an Amish motorcycle gang at a barn raising?

She grabbed him by the arm and hauled him out of earshot of the buzzing school. “What—?” At least that was a word, right? She cleared her throat and tried again. “What did you do?”

The corner of his mouth hitched up. The real smile. Boy, she was in serious trouble—but then, she already knew that.

“It turns out that Munzinga would rather not lose a valued customer such as myself, and he would prefer that word not get around that he’s ripping off children. And he’d really prefer to keep all his teeth, so in order to make amends, he
volunteered
to provide a range of instruments for half off.”

Ben had threatened Munzinga on her behalf? And then paid for the difference?

“Now,” Ben went on, as if this were just another day on the rez instead of Christmas four months early, “some of those tools are secondhand from my brother Billy, but they’re still all good. Billy sees the words
new
and
improved
and he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven. The rest is small stuff—”

“Small?” A trailer full was
small?

Something about his eyes changed, and he leaned down until he was less than a foot from her face, like he was daring her to interrupt him again. “Yes. Small. Things like band saws and planers take a little more work, and Don agreed that the shop building needs to be finished before those get delivered.”

“Don agreed? With you?”

Just once, she wanted to be ready for this man, but nothing in her lifetime had prepared her for Ben Bolton on a mission.

*

Ben couldn’t remember having more fun. Josey had no idea how delicious she looked right now. Her eyes were wild with shock, the breeze had tugged a few strands of that reddish hair loose and her mouth hung open. The only thing that kept him from closing those pretty lips himself was the audience of about fifty people—including relatives—all watching the two of them out of the corners of their eyes.

Hey, at least people were looking at him. More than five thousand dollars’ worth of school supplies made a guy an instant insider.

He felt like laughing. For once, he didn’t care about how much this cost. Anything was worth the look of stunned relief in her eyes—a burden lifted from her shoulders. The funny thing was, he felt lighter, like making things easier for her made it easier for him, too. Maybe part of that was the way distrust had changed to shock and then welcome the moment Don had realized Ben had come bearing gifts.

All he knew was that, right now, he wasn’t the stick-in-the-mud trying to keep the wheels from falling off. All of a sudden, he was Santa Claus. It was an oddly satisfying feeling—something almost but not quite connected to the way his blood hammered into his groin when Josey looked at him with that mix of vulnerability and lust.

Like she was looking at him right now.

“Yes, with me.” Maybe he’d kiss her anyway. No one would say anything. They wouldn’t dare.

“I don’t know how we can thank you.” She swallowed, her eyes cutting down to his lips. “How I can thank you.”

He could think of a couple of ideas—and that was just for starters. The stupid part of his brain tried to argue that he just needed a woman. That was all. But he was starting to think he didn’t need just
any
woman. He was starting to think he needed
this
woman.

She looked up at him through those lashes again, her cheeks coloring a pretty rose. The sunlight caught the red in her hair, making her glow without a sequin in sight. He was pretty sure she’d glow anywhere.

Damn, he was screwed. He’d thought that move had been seductive in the dimly lit bar, but that was nothing compared to the impact of her beautiful light brown eyes in the full light of day. His body vibrated with the need to pull her into his arms, to feel her chest rise and fall against his—to know she only wanted to hear the band play.

“Let me take you to dinner—tonight.”

Oh, yeah, he wanted her. But he wanted her to want him back. Just him. Not his money, not his band, not his financial skills and most certainly not his ability to keep the family together.

Her mouth parted, and she lifted her chin toward him. One kiss—what could it hurt? Idiot, he thought to himself as he moved closer. Like there was a shot in hell he could stop at just one.

“Benny!” The van honked behind him as Stick rolled up. “Setting a bad example again?”

The pretty went right out of Josey’s blush as red embarrassment ran roughshod over her face. She took a step back. Ben glared at Stick. “Later? I’m going to grind you into dust, man.”

Stick liked to laugh in the face of danger. Right now was a good example of that. “Whatever. Hey, I’m going to take off. We should hire those kids as roadies—they got the van unloaded in record time, man.” He looked at Josey, unaware of how embarrassed she really was. A lifetime of bad bar behavior made him oblivious to the gentler ways of a woman. “Good kids. Maybe’ll I’ll come out some time and teach them some chords or something.”

“That would be wonderful.” She answered Stick, but she looked at Ben as she said it.

“Cool, cool. Hey, Benny—don’t forget the gig tonight.”

Damn. The gig. Now he looked like a total tool, inviting her to a dinner he couldn’t make. She was thinking the same thing—he could see the disappointment of low expectations on her face.

To hell with this. He grabbed her by the arm and hauled her behind the relative safety of the van. “Come to the gig. It’s at Fat Louie’s.”

Behind them, Stick wolf-whistled. Ben whipped his head up and glared at him. “Stick,” he said in warning.

“Hey, man, um, look! Grass!” Stick turned his eyes to the front, although Ben could still hear him humming.

“Come tonight,” he said again. Somehow, they were in the same position—her backed up against a wall, him pressing against her. God, the feel of her body against his… “I want to see you.”

Again, she palmed his cheeks and pressed her forehead to his. “I can’t,” she whispered. Was he imagining things, or was her voice a little wobbly?

“Why not?”

“I have to go through all the things you brought—get them organized, cataloged, stored. I can’t afford to let anything walk off. Not when you spent your own money… It’ll take me a couple of days, at least.”

Damn it all. He knew she was right, and part of him appreciated her treating his time and hard-earned money with respect. But that part was small and buried beneath a growing frustration. What did a man have to do to get a woman alone for more than two minutes? Or was this more her blowing him off now that she’d gotten what she wanted? He wanted to think she was different, but maybe he’d been wrong.

As if to highlight how uncomfortable his frustration was, she kissed him. A soft and gentle thing, her lips touching his—but it felt like so much more. Something inside him, something he couldn’t pin down, shifted. It had nothing to do with the bottom line and everything to do with her.

“I wanted to make things easier for you,” he said, his voice low and deep against her cheek.

Her chest hitched up, like she’d sucked in a bunch of air. “You did. You do. It’s just…”

Yeah. Someone had to keep the wheels from falling off.

“Monday?” One of her hands had snaked around the back of his neck.

“Can’t. Meetings scheduled with bankers all day. Same for Tuesday.” Speaking of keeping the wheels from falling off… “Wednesday.”

“That’s the opening day of the powwow. The powwow!” Her body shot up against his, chasing most of the soft and gentle thoughts right out of his head. “You could come!”

No, really—what did a man have to do to get a woman
alone?
Because a powwow sure sounded a hell of a lot like more quality time with all of the people who were probably wondering where the two of them had run off to.

She must have sensed his hesitation, because she added, “There’ll be drumming on the traditional drums, you know.”

Well, hell. He had to admit he was curious about that big leather-and-wood thing in the multipurpose room, and it did seem to be the only way to see her outside of his office and her school. “Okay. I’ll pick you up.” So he didn’t know where he was going. He wasn’t about to let her drive him on something that was most definitely a date. “When and where?”

“Come to my apartment in the city. Here.” She slipped free of his arms and dug around in her pockets until she came up with a piece of paper and a pen. “Can you be there by five?”

“One of the nice things about running my own company is I can be there whenever I’d like to,” he said, more because it sounded good than because it was true. Some days, he felt like he was chained to the damn place.

A low whistle cut through the air. “Heads up, man—not that I’m looking or anything,” Stick said with barely contained laughter.

Less than twenty seconds later, Sandra White Plume rounded the front of the van. Her gaze cut from him to Josey and back, but she just said, “Josey?”

“Hi, Mom.” Man, that pretty blush was going to be the final nail in his coffin. But then, to his utter amazement, Josey went on, “So, as soon as I have that tax-deductible information for your records, I’ll be in contact.”

“Sounds great.” Tax-deductible powwows?

“Mr. Bolton, we cannot thank you enough,” Sandra began for the fourth time. “You must come to the tribal powwow this week—meet the people you’re helping.”

He looked at Josey, who was doing her level best not to laugh. How the heck had Sandra called that? “Sounds great. When does it start?”

“Wednesday.” Sandra beamed at him. “I’m sure Josey can fill you in on all the details.” She looked at Josey, and Ben almost heard her say, “If she hasn’t already.”

He wasn’t fooling anyone.

Least of all Josey.

Five

T
he sound of the buzzer sent Josey jumping away from the mirror, her heart racing.

He was on time.

Even though she’d known the buzzer was going to ring, it had still startled the heck out of her. She shoved the clip into her hair and shut off the mindless TV she’d been trying to distract herself with. She tried not to run down the steps, but she was horrified to discover she was panting a little when she got to the bottom.

Cool, calm, collected,
she thought as she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.
It’s only Ben—CFO, chief benefactor, rock star and all-around hot guy. No need to panic.

Right.

She opened the door and about fell over her own feet. Ben had his back to her as he did something with his motorcycle. Why on God’s green earth had she thought he’d be in the gray truck?

The door latched behind her, causing him to pivot. He was wearing his jacket and jeans again, but this time he had on sunglasses. Slowly, he took them off. A strange look crossed his face, and Josey briefly wondered if she had toilet paper stuck to the heel of her boots or not.

Then he closed the space between them in two long steps and kissed the hell out of her. In broad daylight. On the sidewalk.

Thinking stopped within moments as Ben traced her lips with his tongue. God, he tasted so good. As she met his mouth kiss for kiss, stroke for stroke, she couldn’t even figure out what he tasted like—only that it was manly and good and
him.
The pressure of his hand in the small of her back seemed as natural as breathing, as did the feel of the muscles in his shoulders under her hands. Some parts of her got fluttery and some got melty, and the combination made her dizzy with desire.

When he pulled away, she wanted to cry. If something as small as a kiss could make her a kind of crazy that she couldn’t ever remember being, what would sex with this man be like?

When she got her eyes open, his eyes—bluer today, but that had to be the late-afternoon sun—were staring at her, the corner of his mouth curled up. “Your mother isn’t going to pop up out of nowhere, is she?”

“Your band isn’t going to barge in?”

With a deep rumble, his chest moved against hers as a slow, easy grin spread across his face. Laughing. God help her. “I think that last time was a group effort.” The grin faded as the look in his eyes intensified. “Just so you know, I’m going to kiss you again later.”

She managed to swallow. Coming from him, it managed to sound like both a threat and a promise. Mostly a promise. “I’m aware.”

He gave her a quick kiss before he pulled her toward the motorcycle. He put the sunglasses back on, making it impossible to read him. “Good. You ever been on one of these before?”

“Nope.”

Ben gave her a decidedly nonerotic once-over. “You’ll be fine in those boots and jeans, but you should braid your hair.”

So much for styling it. He leaned back against the bike and watched her as she plaited the braid, that strange look on his face. It felt like he was watching her undress. When she was finished, he hesitated and said, “I suppose we
have
to go to this thing, right?”

She wouldn’t mind bailing. The whole concept of walking around a social event with him had her on edge. Would people think they were together? Would there be a scene? But she shoved those worries to the back of her mind as best she could. Mom had invited him; Josey was responsible for getting him there. That was that. “We should put in an appearance.” That didn’t seem to make him happy, so she added, “There’ll be food.”

“And drumming?”

“And drumming.”

“Better be.” For all the world, he sounded like a pouting child. She had to resist the urge to laugh at him. “But afterward, can we agree that there won’t be any musicians or mothers around?”

Was being “with” him crossing a line—a line she couldn’t uncross? Or would sex with Ben be something she could do—something she could
enjoy
—without losing all the ground she’d gained within the tribe?

She didn’t know. But she wasn’t turning back now.

*

“Of course,” she said, her chin lifting up in what looked a hell of a lot like defiance. “After the powwow.”

Damned powwow. “Good. Here. I brought you a helmet and a jacket. Even though it’s hot, the wind can still get to you.”

So Bobby’s marketing decision to stock Crazy Horse Chopper jackets wasn’t a total waste, and Ben appeared to have guessed right about the size. She zipped the snug leather over the tank top that had him wishing they could forget powwows ever existed. An appearance. Some food. Some drumming. That was it. Then, for the rest of the night, this woman was his and his alone.

He handed her the full-face helmet from a safe distance. It had taken every last ounce of willpower not to drag her up to her apartment and peel those tight jeans right off her. One more kiss—one more touch—would put him past all reason. Damn it, how was he supposed to drive anywhere with her sitting right behind him?

She took the heavy thing, the crease between her eyebrows getting deeper. “You don’t need to worry. I rarely go more than ten miles over the speed limit, and I haven’t had an accident in years.”

“That’s not exactly comforting.” Her voice got muffled at the end by the shield on her helmet. She pulled it right back off, undid her braid and shook out all of that hair.

It was the most wonderful color of not-quite red, long and silky and begging to be touched. She looked a lot like the various people he’d met on his two trips to the rez, but her coloring was lighter. Not quite as light as her mother’s—that woman was so fair as to be a strawberry blonde—but still exotic. Different. Special.

Not another woman like Josey White Plume on the planet.

She redid her hair, the braid starting lower against the curve of the back of her neck. He stared at her with wide eyes as her fingers wove all that hair into a thick rope. She let the finished braid drape over her front, the tip swinging below the swell of her breast. This time, the helmet stayed on. Despite the leather and the helmet, she was still decidedly, unmistakably feminine.

Jesus. Would he make it to tonight?

Josey took a hesitant step toward the bike. The sooner they got this part over with, the sooner tonight could happen. “Just like riding a horse,” he said as he snapped on his own helmet and motioned for her to get on behind him.

“Mmhmum hmmh mmumm.”

Laughing, he turned around and lifted her visor. “What?”

“Not too fast,” she said again, forcing a smile.

She was nervous. Was that because of the bike or because of him? “Not too fast. And you won’t fall off if you hold on to me.” Assuming, of course, that the weight of her body pressed against his didn’t crash them both.

She bit her lip. “Okay.” A woman shouldn’t be as beautiful as she was. That was really all there was to it. “I’ll, uh, point you where you need to go?”

He touched a gloved finger to her lips. “Anywhere you want to go, as long as I’m with you.”

“Oh,” she breathed, the pupils in her eyes widening considerably. “Okay.”

They needed to get going. Kissing came after. Against his will, he flipped down her visor and fired up the engine.

As his machine rumbled to life, Josey threw her arms around his waist. Even though he’d known that was coming, his body stiffened at the sudden full-body contact. How long had it been since he’d had a woman on his bike? Since he’d made time to take a beautiful woman out for a ride on a sunny summer evening? Since he’d wanted to be with a woman bad enough that he’d suffer through meeting her family, much less a whole tribe of people?

Ben was in trouble, and he knew it. But as he accelerated toward the open road, with Josey clutching him to her chest and her helmeted chin resting on his shoulder, he couldn’t figure out if it was good trouble or bad.

By the time they were on the highway, the sun setting over their shoulders, Josey had loosened up a little, which meant that she was only holding him tightly instead of crushing him. He’d take it, though. He made sure to stick near the speed limit.

A surprising thought hit him. He was having fun. Wind all around, his bike eating up the miles—sure, he loved all that stuff. But everything about it seemed better knowing that he was showing it to Josey for the first time.

Soon enough, she was pointing to an upcoming exit. Before long, they were on pea-gravel roads, and then onto things that were roads in name only. Just when he was sure they were lost in the middle of nowhere, the road opened up and ended around a huge site. Tents were pitched next to cars and lean-tos made of branches were next to horses. In the center was a wide circle ringed with lawn chairs and blankets. People were everywhere—kids running all over the place. Some people were in regular clothes, but some were wearing wild outfits, with feathers and colors sticking out in every direction.

He’d thought the school was a different world? This was a different galaxy.

Josey tapped his shoulder, pointing him toward a white van with the words
Pine Ridge School
painted on the side. Ben parked next to it.

He removed his helmet before he realized Josey was still holding on to him. After he pulled off his gloves, he ran his fingers over hers, prying them away from each other as gently as he could.

She let go and swung off the bike. Immediately, she stumbled backward. It was all Ben could do to grab her before she landed on her backside. “Whoa! You okay?”

Her head didn’t so much nod yes or shake no as go in confused circles. Still holding her up, Ben got off the bike and then pulled her helmet off.

Her eyes were plate-wide. Then, to his great relief, her face cracked into a wide smile. “That,” she said, her voice a little shaky, “was the scariest thing I’ve ever done!”

“Then you need to get out more.”

Unexpectedly, she lurched up on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on him. He grabbed hold of her—to steady her, really—but she looped those arms around his neck and held fast.

God, what he wouldn’t give to
not
be at a powwow.

As suddenly as the kiss had started, it ended. She jerked back, licking the lips he could still taste and wobbling for a short second before she landed firmly on her feet. Her cheeks burned bright red, and suddenly she couldn’t meet his eyes. Hell, she couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. Her boots had just gotten that interesting, apparently.

“Okay,” she said, more to herself than to him.

“Okay,” he agreed.

Wouldn’t take much to be way more than just okay, but they were still in public, and she was clearly not comfortable with everyone around. He’d have to settle—for now.

Once he wasn’t touching her, their surroundings registered. A deep, constant drumbeat filled the air around him, along with some singing that was closer to keening.

Off to one side, a group of guys were milling around, stuck between giving him the stink eye, ignoring him and staring at his bike. A motley crew of punks, some with Mohawks, some with long hair, all trying their damnedest to look intimidating.

They didn’t look like the kind of kids who would hang around for formal introductions. So he cut to the chase. “You guys ride?”

The kids shifted, as if they were discussing whether or not to acknowledge him. This “outsider” thing was starting to really bug him. Finally, the tallest kid—one of the long-haired ones—broke rank. “We ride war ponies,
wasicu.
”

Josey’s shoulders dipped, like this pronouncement disappointed her, but Ben found the attitude to be amusing. Did this kid think he was intimidating? Please.

Ben made a mental note to ask Josey what
wasicu
was—he would guess “white guy,” but he had a feeling there was another meaning to it. “Yeah? How do those handle on the highway?”

A chunkier guy with shorter hair cracked a grin and punched the leader in the shoulder. “Hey, the
wasicu
is funny! Where’d you get that thing?”

“I built it.”

“No way!” The group began to edge toward him, although the leader was still scowling.

Questions began to come at Ben like arrows. “How’d you do that? How fast does it go? Do you get a lot of girls?”

At that last one, the rest of the group fell silent. Ben glanced at Josey, who was somewhere between mortified and amused. Ben chose his words carefully. “I built this when I was in high school. When most guys were trying to borrow their dad’s car, I had my own bike. Because there’s a lady present, I’ll just say that Saturdays were the best day of the week.” She shot him a look that said,
I bet,
as loud and clear as if she’d spoken it.

“Cool!” Even the leader was edging closer as the guys began to talk in a mix of English and Lakota. Ben didn’t catch half of what they said, but he did hear someone say, “Like a two-wheeled war pony, Tige!”

“Josey,” the chunky one said, “can we build one at school? Don would let us in shop, wouldn’t he? Like a school project, right?”

Everyone turned to look at Josey. Her mouth opened and shut once, then twice as the color on her cheeks deepened.

“You’ve got to get the shop finished,” Ben said for her. He crossed his arms and leveled his best glare at the kids. “If you can’t build a building, you can’t build a bike.”

“Tige, Corey,” Josey said over the resulting chatter, “don’t you have to get your outfits on?”

The group of guys moved off, some still pointing to the bike. Not too bad, Ben thought. He still didn’t know what
wasicu
was, but at least everyone could agree—a good bike made the world a better place. He turned to look at Josey, expecting to see the same sentiment on her face. Instead of appreciation, she had her hands on her hips and was giving him
the look.

“What?”

“Saturdays are the best days, huh?”

“Were. Past tense.” Her toe began to tap. She wasn’t buying it. “Okay, so Saturdays are still the best days, but that’s because of the band.” She still didn’t look mollified, so he added, “Recently, though, Wednesdays have begun to look up.”

“You can be quite charming when you want to be, you know.” He couldn’t tell if she meant that as a compliment or not. Then her eyes cut to someone behind him.