Talk Me Down (6 page)

And, Jesus, he wanted her talking to him the whole time.

“Ben,” she panted.

“Yes.”

“Please, I’m…Oh, God.”

He moved to the other breast, licking more softly this time, knowing just what he wanted. And he got it.

Molly began to beg. “Ben, please.
Please.
I’m so close.”

Her fingers wound tight into his hair, demanding and pleading. He refused to give in until she began sobbing his name over and over. Finally, he sucked hard and pressed her carefully between his teeth.

She drew in a long, rough breath and raised one hand to the ceiling to press her body harder against his cock. All her muscles tensed into long, shaking lines…and then Ben saw stars and she was screaming and the world exploded into color and…and sirens?

Caught at the very edge of an orgasm, Ben looked up and saw one of her clutching hands pressed high, right against the light controls of his truck. Sirens blared, blue and red beams danced and jumped off the front of her house. And the neighbors’ houses.

“Oh, fuck.”

She was still shuddering against him.

“Molly. Molly!” He tried to flick the switches, but her fingers wouldn’t move. “Move your hand, Moll!” She moved the wrong one, letting go of his hair.

Finally, he was able to push her loosening hold away from the box and turn off the light-and-sound show. But it was too late, of course. Porch lights were coming on as far as five houses up the block. He wondered if the loud speaker had been on.

Shit, shit, shit. One more second and this would have ended in a high-school-era orgasm for him, too, and now he had to think his way out of this? Ben snatched up her sweater and tugged it over her head. Her eyes blinked at him above the turtleneck.

“You’d better get dressed, sweetie. We’re about to have company.”

He saw the exact moment that awareness flashed to life in her clouded gaze. Her eyes got bigger, rounder, and then she forced her arms into the sleeves and yanked everything down over her unfastened bra.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry.” Her voice shook. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right, Molly. It’s okay. Calm down.”

“No, it’s not!”

Several dark shadows huddled on stoops, stomping their feet and craning their necks. “I don’t think anyone even noticed. Just get your coat on and I’ll walk you to your door.”

“No one noticed?” She started to look around, so Ben gathered up her white coat and handed it to her.

“Here. Your hat’s under my foot, can you reach it?” That busied her long enough for most of the neighbors to give up on the winter show and go back inside to spy from the window.

He didn’t know why he was trying to protect her. The Thursday edition of that pitiful ink-jet excuse for a paper would reveal all. But it didn’t seem right that her pleasure should end like that, tripping over mortification and regret.

The thought made him cringe in memory, though it was just habit at this point. Molly was here now to replace that old incident with new, more spectacular disasters. He’d probably care more once his dick gave up hope and eased its monopoly on his blood flow. But right now everything seemed okay, because Molly was gorgeous and flushed and confused and still perched half on his lap.

“Molly?”

“Yeah?”

She looked up from tugging on her hat, and he caught her in a simple, soft kiss. “I had fun tonight.”

“Oh,” she sighed, eyes closed, lips turned up in a secret smile. “Oh, so did I.”

There was nothing to be done, so Ben walked her to her door, gave her a quick lecture because she’d forgotten to lock it, declined her invitation to spend the night, then told her to sleep well. She assured him that she would.

Whatever his regrets, Ben walked back to his truck feeling glad that one of them was in for a peaceful, sated night.

The girl had just had sex in a truck, in public, with a man she barely knew. She’d been in Tumble Creek all of, what? Four days?

She didn’t even look ashamed of herself as she closed her front door. Hell, she probably knew she’d been watched, and had enjoyed it all the more. It would be in keeping with her personality. Always drawing attention.

Perhaps she slept with strange men in public all the time. Perhaps she’d screwed all the patrons in the bar tonight before leaving with Chief Lawson.

Damn it.

She probably felt safe here, living a charmed life in these mountains, but the razor peaks and icy nights had broken thousands of men over the centuries. It would be easy enough to change her mind about returning to this town.

The lock-pick gun shifted in the black bag, heavy as a gold bar but so much more valuable. People—single women in particular—locked their doors at night and felt secure, but that was pure ignorance. Every locksmith owned one of these gadgets that could open any cheap lock. Every locksmith…and every police department.

Molly would sleep soundly tonight, satisfied with her evening’s fun, and she’d have no idea of her vulnerability. No idea that someone could stalk through her house with no fear, even stand over her bed and watch her sleep.

But she would realize her ignorance soon enough. Her female instincts would try to warn her, niggling at the edges of her consciousness. Fear would worm its way into her head, but there’d be no proof of anything, no implication that her terror was well-founded.

She’d be afraid. She’d feel confused. Soon enough, paranoia would set in. And then she would move away from Tumble Creek and back to Denver where she belonged.

It was a good possibility. Better than the first two had been. It wasn’t illegal, she could work from home, and she could make a heck of a lot of money doing it. And how the hell was he supposed to rule it in or out?

The background report glowed on his computer screen, bathing him in its censuring light. Nothing. Not even a traffic violation. Molly Jennings
was
a good girl, at least as far as the system was concerned. As far as Ben was concerned, she was fascinatingly bad. But just how bad, he didn’t yet know.

When she’d had the wi-fi antenna attached to her roof the day after she’d moved in, he hadn’t thought much about it, but he was thinking now. Was it just about a city girl’s love for speedy Internet connections or did she need to upload huge amounts of information?

A few days ago he wouldn’t have been able to imagine her doing sex shows for money, but now he could picture it all too well. She was…
easy
to watch. Even easier to listen to, and holy hell, what if that was how she’d learned how to turn him on like a goddamn switch?

“Please, no,” he whispered to the computer. The vast universe of online sex loomed on Ben’s horizon, glittering and ominous and writhing with danger. He’d never find her in there, even if he searched for weeks. Which brought up the question of how he was supposed to search anyway. He was on dial-up at home, and he could just imagine trying to explain to the mayor why he’d visited hundreds of online sex sites on his office computer, stalking a female citizen who hadn’t broken any laws.

Nice. Just the kind of behavior Ben had been aiming for his whole life.

He reached for his cold coffee that was sitting on top of the latest
Tumble Creek Tribune.
“
Tribune,
my ass,” he growled into the mug. “More like the
Tattler.
”

He’d called Molly on Friday morning to apologize and warn her what was coming—she’d seemed fairly unconcerned—and his gut had been churning the rest of the weekend. But when he’d found the paper on his porch this morning, the column had been only slightly enraging.

As for Ms. Jennings, she’s presenting a bit of a mystery. Her very own brother has confirmed that she keeps her work life a secret…even from her family! Check back on Thursday for more details.

There was nothing scandalous about the chief of police dating a single young woman. People might smile as they read the details, they might talk it over with their friends, but it wasn’t a scandal. Ben had seen a true scandal, and he knew the difference.

He’d seen people stop their errands to stare at his family. He’d watched friends’ parents snatch their children back before they could approach. He’d seen hateful joy on faces he’d known his whole life. And pity. And disgust. Hostility. Mocking laughter. Superiority. Delight. Sorrow.

Everything he’d ever known about himself had cracked and crumbled when his father had slept with a girl only one year older than Ben. Lucky for all of them she’d been eighteen at the time. Unluckily, she’d still been in high school. There had been the initial denials, then the small irrefutable details, then admissions and confessions and apologies. There’d been police investigations, emergency school board meetings, dismissal, serious money problems. The townspeople’s outrage, his mother’s horror and grief, Ben’s own confusion and anger. Tales of his father’s sex life. Divorce. Bankruptcy. And all of it reported in loving detail in Miles’s paper.

So, yes, Ben knew the difference between harmless gossip and true scandal. And true scandal would be Tumble Creek’s chief of police dating a prostitute or a porn star. Miles would love it. And Ben would be a pitiful echo of his father.

He could not date Molly Jennings until he found out the truth, even if he had spent the past days thinking incessantly that he should have taken her into the house and done things right.

“Happy Halloween, Fire Chief!” his second in command called as he walked by. He waved the paper as he passed, just in case Ben failed to get the joke.

“Kiss my ass, Frank,” Ben called back in a cheerful tone.

Brenda appeared almost immediately in his doorway, shooting a disapproving look at Frank’s back. “I’m sorry, Chief. You shouldn’t have to put up with this nonsense.”

“It’s fine, Brenda. Honestly.”

“Miles Webster should be shot.”

“He’s just doing his job.” The words stuck in his throat, but he got them out.

“Job,”
Brenda spat, her face turning red with anger.

“Did you have a message for me?” Ben asked quickly.

The blood began to fade from her cheeks. She shook her head, setting her graying hair bouncing. “No, but you wanted me to remind you to check the mine gates before tonight.”

The chair squeaked as he leaned back with a sigh. “Right. I got to three of them yesterday, but I’ve still got to check the one up on the ridge. Everything looks fine so far.”

“Be careful if you’re going up there. You seem a little tired.”

“Nah, I’m fine.”

“Oh, I almost forgot.” She held up a plastic bowl and stepped in to set it on his desk.

Ben couldn’t help but smile as the aroma of spices and tomatoes filled the small room. His stomach growled. “Chili?”

“Yes, sir.” Her eyes sparkled with satisfaction and her cheeks balled up into rosy globes when she smiled. She really did look just like her mother.

“Thanks, Brenda. This’ll get me through a long evening.”

“You work too hard,” she sighed, shaking her head as she left. “And try to stay out of trouble, will you?”

Ben didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Because all he really wanted to do was get
into
trouble. Deep into it. As if he’d never learned anything from his father at all.

“It doesn’t involve martinis does it? I think I’m still hungover.”

Molly laughed. “We need to get you out more often.”

“I…Really? All right, I’m in. Training, right? Practice makes perfect.”

“We’ll start tomorrow. But first…Listen, we’re supposed to get snow this weekend, and I need a favor. If I get stuck in the snow, will you pull me out and—here’s the important part—not tell Ben about it?”

“Well, I rarely report back to him anyway, so no problem. But if you’re that worried, why don’t you get a truck?”

“I had one all picked out in Denver, but they wouldn’t give me the deal I wanted. I’m just driving the Mini until I can wear them down. I think they’re close to breaking.”

“I think you’re close to breaking your ass in that tiny car.”

“Eh. I’ll be fine. And I’m having fun scaring the hell out of Ben in the meantime.”

They were both still laughing when Molly hung up, but her humor faded the longer she held her new cordless phone in her hand. She was going to have to call Cameron, because she was starting to get that feeling again. That feeling she’d had in Denver. Of being watched, of little things being out of place.

First, the noises on her walk down to The Bar, then afterwards, the front door had been unlocked. She’d thought she’d forgotten, but she’d woken the next morning with the thought still on her mind…
I could’ve sworn I’d locked it.
But maybe she hadn’t, or maybe it was hard to lock. She didn’t know this house yet, didn’t know its quirks. And that was a problem, too, all the shifts and sighs of the house as it cooled at night.

In her paranoia, she’d even let Mrs. Gibson’s latest nasty e-mail get to her. Maybe the old lady wasn’t so harmless. Maybe she was more like Kathy Bates in
Misery
than an eccentric grandma. But when she’d done a Google search for Mrs. Gibson’s name and address, all the hits had pointed directly to an eighty-year-old woman who lived in a Long Island nursing home and wrote frequent letters to the editor of the local newspaper. Mrs. Gibson wasn’t only outraged by erotic fiction; she was equally upset by liberal school boards and unfair sales taxes.

All of that pretty much eliminated her as a stalking suspect, which left only Cameron.

It occurred to Molly that she should consider getting a gun, just so she could sleep soundly. Or a dog. “Probably a dog,” she said to the phone.

When the doorbell rang, Molly jumped about a foot and her new phone arced through the air. It clattered against the countertop, slid two feet to the sink and dropped in with a hollow clunk. No harm done.

“Coming!” she yelled, grabbing her bowl of candy on the way. The kids here didn’t have many houses to visit, so she’d filled the bowl with full-size candy bars and packs of bubble gum and had received squeals of approval from all her visitors so far.

“Trick or treat!” the little girl chirped from behind her scarf as her mom offered a wave from the bottom of the steps.

Molly grinned down at the girl in her bulky parka and white sweatpants. A pink tutu stuck out between the layers and a sparkly crown perched on top of her knit cap.

“What a beautiful, beautiful princess you are!” she gushed as she dropped a big chocolate bar in the girl’s bag. The girl’s eyes bulged.
Oh, yeah,
Molly thought,
I’m a rock star in this town.
“All princesses deserve chocolate.”

The big eyes sparkled, warming Molly’s heart. She loved this small-town thing—

“I’m not a princess!”

Oops. That didn’t sound like delight. “Oh! Sorry, I’m…”

Big fat tears began to drop from her eyelashes to the scarf. Molly threw a desperate glance to the mother, but she just stood there cringing.

“I’m not a princess!” the girl screamed, waving a previously unnoticed wand. “I’m a fairy.
I’m a fairy!
”

The mom reached up. “Kaelin, let’s just go, hon—”

“I don’t wanna wear my stupid coat. No one can see my w-w-wings!” She crumpled into a little sobbing mound of down and waterproof nylon. “I told you no one would see my wings!”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” the mother muttered as she scooped up the broken child.

“I’m sorry,” Molly whispered in horror.

The girl stirred to scream, “I’m a fairy!” one more time before her mother spirited her down the steps.

Molly was hardly surprised when Ben chose that moment to drive up. He stepped out of the truck while the mother lectured quietly and furiously on the front lawn, but he just strolled into the reach of the porch light and watched until the little girl blinked away her tears and looked at him.

“Happy Halloween, Chief Lawson,” she said mournfully.

“Happy Halloween, Kaelin. I must say, I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a beautiful fairy. You look like you just stepped out of a magic snow palace.”

“Really?” she breathed.
“Really?”

“Police officers can’t lie.” He dug a crumpled pack of candy corn from his pocket and dropped it in the girl’s bag. She glowed as though he’d just given her diamonds.

“Thank you, Chief,” the mother gushed before pulling her daughter on to the next house.

The half smile Ben offered Molly was chock-full of arrogance. “Making children cry on Halloween, Moll? That something they taught you down in the big city?”

“How the hell did you know she was a fairy?”

“Wand,” was all he said, and Molly slumped.

“I didn’t see the damn wand.”

“Not your fault. I’m trained to notice the details.”

“I think I liked you better when you were shy.”

The half smile flashed briefly into a full grin that stole Molly’s breath away. His next words knocked the breath back in on a rush of anxiety.

“Speaking of noticing the details, this package was on top of your mailbox. It’s from a Cameron Kasten. That the guy who’s
not
your ex-boyfriend?”

“Yes,” she snapped, wondering what the hell this meant. Though he held the package out to her, Molly just stared at it.

Ben looked down at it and then up at her with a frown. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

“Nope.” Her composure firmly back in place, she snatched the box and moved back into the warmth of her house. Ben followed. Oh, sure, he was willing to come in
now.

Molly tossed the box on a table and headed for the kitchen. “Do you want a piece of homemade apple pie?”

“Who made it?”

“I did.”

“Pie? What’s gotten into you?”

“Coffee!” Just the sound of the word cheered Molly up. “Coffee got into me! My beans came!” She gestured toward the ripped-open FedEx package.

“I see.”

She followed Ben’s gaze to the staggered trail of coffee beans that littered the floor and counter. “Sorry, I was pretty excited. You want a latte? I’ve got my fancy city-girl espresso machine up and running.”

He cocked his head as if he was figuring something out. A few seconds later, his shoulders lost a little of their stiffness. “You’ve got coffee and pie. I’ve got a container of chili in the car. That sounds like dinner.”

“Dinner? That’s a date!”

But Ben was already shaking his head. “No. A real date would be a drive up to my cabin where we’d have dinner in front of the fireplace. Wine. Dessert. Then maybe we’d walk over to the hot springs at the edge of my property. I’d strip you naked and carry you in. And then, Molly, then we’d make love in the warmest part of the water while snowflakes melted on our skin. We wouldn’t care about the cold. We wouldn’t care about anything but getting more of each other.
That
would be a date.”

Holy mother of God, it certainly would.

“But we’re not dating because you refuse to tell me anything about yourself. So we’re having chili and pie in the kitchen, and that’s it.”

“That’s it?” she whispered.

He held up his hands in regret. “Is this Cameron Kasten someone you work with?”

Molly fought the urge to throw the whole pie at him. “Shut up and get the chili. And don’t look so sure of yourself. You think I couldn’t get into your pants if I wanted?”

He left without a word, though she thought he looked a little worried. Good. It would serve him right if she stripped down and laid herself out naked on the counter. She did have whipped cream.

Hmm. Maybe.

But then he was back, carrying a big Tupperware bowl.

“Why do you carry chili around in your truck?”

“Why do you have a big wi-fi antenna on top of your house?”

“What?” She shook off the question. “Listen, I’m really sorry about the paper. Again. I shouldn’t have seduced you into…you know.”

“I’d hardly call it seduction.”

“Wait. What the hell does
that
mean?”

“It means you were drunk and slightly incoherent, and I should have been the one to know better.”

“Slightly
incoherent?
Wow, you paint a beautiful picture.” She’d been thinking pretty damn fondly of that night, but she was suddenly overwhelmed by a very different image. A scene in which she, sloppy drunk and cracking unfunny jokes, masturbated herself against an unwilling man’s lap.

Oh, holy hell, she’d totally used Ben Lawson as a sex toy.

Molly put her hands over her eyes in horror, determined to talk herself down. That wasn’t what had happened. Okay, yes, she’d used him as a sex toy, but he hadn’t been unwilling. In fact, his mouth had been tremendously friendly.

Ben touched her hand and she peeked above her fingers.

“I told you I had a good time, Molly. And remember, policemen can’t lie.”

“But I think I used you.”

“Oh, you used me. And I’m so traumatized I can barely keep my hands off you, even though I’ve given us both every reason not to get involved.”

His eyes, normally so careful and guarded, sparked to life. They practically shimmered with heat.
Hot
heat. Hot, I-wanna-rip-off-your-clothes-and-do-you-outside-in-the-water heat. That fire reached out to her and shivered over her nerves, especially the most important nerves.

He’d done it again; made her wet with just a look. How was that possible?

Molly slowly dropped her hands and stared openmouthed at this man who’d lost any semblance of familiarity. He wasn’t Professor Logic anymore, he was just sex, pure and gorgeous.

And there was only one way she was going to get it.

“Okay, I’ll tell—”

The doorbell cut off her sex-crazed confession. Ben’s eyes narrowed; the super-seduction beam focused and strengthened. “Tell me what, Molly?”

Ding-dong.

Oh, God, she wanted to tell him, tell him everything so he’d take her to bed and let her fulfill all her fantasies.

Except he wouldn’t. Because her fantasies were the problem.

An impatient fist knocked on the door. Molly shook her head in disgust at Ben and his powers. “Do they teach you that at the police academy?”

Before he could answer, she spun and stomped to the door. “Happy Halloween,” she grumbled to the three teenage boys and stuffed half her candy into their bags.

They muttered things like, “Dude!” and “Awesome!” just like teenagers anywhere, and she knew they wouldn’t give a damn when she closed the door in their faces. They had their loot; the crazed, flushed supplier meant nothing to them.

“What were you going to tell me?” Ben asked from close behind her.

She waved him off. “Nothing. Your evil spell is broken.”

“What evil spell?”

“You know, with the eyes and the sexy.”

“The
sexy?
Jesus, Moll.” He burst into laughter, stunning her with the rich, husky sound. Oh, she hadn’t heard him laugh like that since he was twenty-two. And drunk. She’d forgotten the way that sound worked through her insides.

“And none of that, either! Not unless you’re putting out, mister.”

He leaned his shoulder against the wall and grinned down at her. “I think I should call Quinn and find out about your pharmaceutical needs. Make sure you have all your meds for the winter. You’ve clearly lost it.”

Molly sang a verse of “Sexual Healing” as she moved past him toward the kitchen. Ben just shook his head.

“Then make me some dinner at least,” she said. “I haven’t eaten anything but apple pie since noon. And a candy bar, but that goes without saying. It’s Halloween.”

He set to work with a nod and moved with ease between the microwave and the cabinets and the table, setting out bowls and spoons and paper towels. Molly knew she should help, but the show was so damn nice, she didn’t budge. She just leaned against the counter and watched Ben move through her space.

His hips were that lovely narrow shape that did everything to set off a man’s chest and shoulders. And ass. And all the rest that she really, really wanted to see again.

She could still picture him naked on that memorable night, totally aroused and…
impressive.
Thick and long, and slippery wet from that woman’s mouth.

Even as she bit back a shiver, Molly told herself that it had happened a long time ago. She’d been supremely inexperienced, and she might have exaggerated his assets in her mind. Yes, he’d been bigger than Ricky, but who wasn’t? Maybe the other night he’d been wearing really thick underwear and that was why he’d felt so big against her lap.