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“A man can dream, can’t he?” Now, over the rim of his mug, his eyes met hers.
Her heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t be flirting with her. Not Ben. He couldn’t want more.
Even though she did.
“Sure,” she said finally. “Dream on.” She looked down at her mug and blew lightly on the inch of lukewarm tea that remained, pretending to cool it. Needing to cool herself down. Needing to get him out of here—before she gave in to her own imaginings and made a fool of herself. Her cheeks burning, she added, “Speaking of dreams, I...I guess it’s time for me to turn in. And for you to go. Before it gets too late.”
“It already is.”
She stared at him.
He shrugged. “It’s nearly one o’clock, and I’m usually up by four. It doesn’t seem worth it even to go to sleep, does it?”
“Not for you, maybe. But I intend to get a few hours in before I pick up the kids.”
He nodded. “I’d better go, then.”
Relief flowed through her. Two minutes more, and she’d be safe. She set her mug on the coffee table and rose from the couch. She had turned away, eager to lead him to the door, when he rested his hand on her arm. She froze.
“Before I go,” he murmured, “you might need some help.”
“I don’t think so. I can manage a couple of mugs.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He tapped her shoulder lightly. “Did you plan on sleeping in this dress?”
“No,” she said, hating the fact that her voice sounded so breathless. That she felt so breathless. She must have imagined his fingertip just grazing her skin. “I thought Lissa would be here.”
“She’s not.”
“I know.”
She swallowed hard. Why had she ever wanted to make a dress she couldn’t get out of herself? Why did she not regret the decision now? She could have saved herself some heartache.
She turned to him, and their eyes met. Unable to read his—unwilling to let him see what she knew he’d find in hers—she spun away again. “Well, you can unbutton the top two buttons. That ought to get me started.”
Behind her, he laughed softly. He touched the low-cut edge of the back of her gown. Her breath caught. As he undid the top button, his knuckles brushed the newly exposed skin. She clutched her lace overskirt with both hands and hoped he had touched her deliberately.
He undid the second button, his fingers following the same path along her spine. Warmth prickled her skin.
When he reached for the next button and the next, she closed her eyes, wishing he’d meant to set off the heat building inside her.
After he’d undone the back of her gown, she turned, already planning the quick farewell that would send him on his way. With one look at him, her words disappeared before they reached her lips. Now she could read his eyes clearly. Could read naked longing in his face.
A longing she recognized too well.
In those endless months when she’d known in her heart her marriage to Paul was over, she had begun to yearn again for all the things she had always wanted in her life. All the things she had hoped Paul would be but never had been.
A solid, steady, dependable partner.
A husband she could truly love.
A daddy who would willingly raise her children.
A man...
A man just like Ben.
“Think I’ve gone far enough?” His voice rumbled through her. No sign of laughter now. His chest rose and fell with his deep breath. He looked into her eyes, then let his gaze drift down to her mouth.
She had spent the entire evening wanting him to kiss her—and she couldn’t wait for him to kiss her now.
Slowly he reached up and rested his warm hand flat against the back of her neck. She tilted her chin up, let him cradle her head in his palm, allowed her eyelids to drift closed.
His breath fanned her cheek.
The brush of his lips against hers came with the lightest of pressure. Not tentative, but restrained, as if he touched her in awe and disbelief. That sense of reverence made her eyes sting. Made her heart swell.
He cupped her face, his fingers curving beneath her jaw, fingertips settling against her neck. He couldn’t miss her rapid pulse.
His head close to hers, he murmured, “You know, I’ve had a crush on you since kindergarten.”
“No.”
“Yes. Although I admit,” he added, his voice hoarse, “I didn’t think about this until a few years later.” He slid his hand from her neck and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.
When she opened her eyes, she found his face mere inches away. “You’re only looking for cookies,” she teased.
“Oh, no. Not when I’ve just had something much better.” His mouth met hers again. “You taste like wedding cake.”
She smiled. “You taste like champagne.”
“Only the best for you, darlin’. Always.”
Always. The way he’d been there for her.
Yet through all the years she had known him, she’d never imagined they would ever kiss. During the recent months when she’d begun to dream about him, she’d never dared to let those dreams bring her this far.
She had to clear her throat before she could speak again. Still, her voice cracked. “Are you trying to sweet-talk me, cowboy?”
“Sweet? No, ma’am.” He shook his head. “I’m thinking more like hot.” He slid his hand into the unbuttoned back of her gown, pressing his fingers wide and firm against her. The soft material slipped from her shoulders.
Not breaking eye contact with her, he trailed both hands down her arms. Like the water bubbling in the country club’s fountain, the gown fell in a froth of pink satin and lace.
When he took her hand and sank onto the couch, she went with him, wanting to get even closer, to brace herself against his solidness, to absorb his warmth. Wanting to hold on to a reality she wasn’t yet sure she believed.
A few minutes later, though, she believed in him with all her heart. Despite his words, he was gentle and kind and sweet. And yes...later...he was hot, too.
He gave her everything she’d ever dreamed of. And more.
An even longer while later, she reached up to slide her hands behind his neck and link her fingers against him. As she held on, unmoving, he explored once again, running his hands down her sides, cupping her hips and holding her closer.
When she sucked in a deep breath, one side of his mouth curled in a smile. “This isn’t what I expected when I drove you home tonight.”
“That makes two of us.” Like a schoolgirl, she struggled to hold back a giggle of pure joy at being two halves of a couple with him.
“And,” he said, “this isn’t what I expected when I promised to take care of you. But you don’t hear me complaining.”
Her throat tightened, and the giggle died. “No,” she said, “I don’t.” Goose bumps rippled along her skin.
To accompany the chill running down her spine.
“In fact—”
“Wait,” she interrupted, meeting his eyes. “You said ‘take care’?”
He nodded. “Of you and the kids.”
She tried to keep her tone even, her voice soft. “And you made that promise to...?”
He shifted, as if the question she’d left hanging caused him considerable discomfort. A small gap opened between them, and her body cooled.
“To Paul,” he said.
“I see.” She sat up, needing more distance between them. When he let her go, she grabbed her gown from the floor and slid into it, heedless now of the fine lace, of the delicate satin. “That’s the reason behind everything?” she asked. “Because you made a promise to Paul?”
He leaned against the arm of the couch. “What ‘everything’? You mean us, here?”
“We’ve never been ‘us, here’ before tonight.” She wouldn’t—couldn’t—think about that now. It took twice as much effort to keep her voice level as it had to stifle that foolish giggle. “No, I mean everything you’ve done. Trying to help me. Stopping by my office unannounced. Buying the office building. All that—because of what you promised Paul?”
Frowning, he nodded. “Yeah. But I’d have done those things anyway. Why wouldn’t I? I told you, you’ve been the girl for me since kindergarten.”
“How long ago did you have to make that promise?”
“The day he shipped out at the end of his leave. But there was no ‘have to’ about it. I willingly gave him my word.”
“I’m not willing to let you take care of me.”
“It’s too late for that.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“I’ve watched over you for years. Ever since we were kids in school.”
“Then it has to stop. We’re not kids anymore. And as I’ve told you before, many times, I can take care of myself—and my children. I don’t think you’ll ever understand that.” She tugged the bodice of her gown into place. “And I think it’s time for you to go.”
For a few long moments he didn’t move. Then, slowly, he curled his fingers into fists and stared at her, his eyes narrowed.
She had no fear. This was Ben. He was good and kind and meant well. And because he was so good and kind, because he felt so determined to take care of her, she’d hurt him.
After he’d just made love to her as if—
She couldn’t finish that thought. She couldn’t sit here and watch him walk out.
Instead, she rose from the couch, then crossed the room. “Good night,” she said over her shoulder. Her voice shook.
“Running away won’t help anything,” he said.
“I’m not running,” she answered, climbing the stairs without looking back. Without stopping. “I’m just standing on my own.”
On legs no steadier than her voice had been and that threatened to give way at any moment.
From the upstairs hallway she listened to his movements below.
When he left, she went down again to lock the door.
Then she sank onto the rocking chair. Her heart thudded painfully. She had wanted to stop him. Wanted to call him back. But she couldn’t. She had to make him leave, had to force him to understand she didn’t need him.
She had to force herself to accept a painful truth, too. For all this time, Ben had considered her his responsibility.
She couldn’t allow that to continue.
No matter what she had heard for years from another man, no matter what that man had tried to make her believe, she wasn’t anyone’s burden. Never had been—and as long as she lived, never would be.
Especially not Ben’s.
Chapter Four
Dana dropped Stacey off at the day care center, then drove toward the elementary school. She needed the Monday-morning routine after spending most of Sunday agonizing over Ben. Again and again, she’d replayed what had happened between them.
Cheeks flaming, she glanced in the rearview mirror at Lissa and P.J. She needed to think about her children, not Ben.
Taking a deep breath, she looked at the kids again. Thought of her routine.
Of course, when she needed a distraction more than ever before, her office would be quieter than usual with Tess, her sole employee, away on her honeymoon. That meant she’d have plenty of time alone. Plenty of time to obsess over Saturday night—and then to forget it had happened.
But how could she ever forget anything about Ben when everywhere she looked, she saw reminders of him? Even the squat, redbrick school building and the bus pulled over in the parking lot brought back memories.
Years ago, Ben and the younger kids from the outlying ranches only came into town when they rode the bus to school in the morning. As soon as the final bell rang, they immediately rode the bus home. With their parents busy working, the kids didn’t get to hang out in Flagman’s Folly until they could drive themselves back and forth.
Ranch families had the same problem today. She and Kayla Robertson already had a plan in the works, one Ben would eventually hear about thanks to his seat on the town council. She dreaded having to face him the night they would present their proposal.
“Mom, stop,” Lissa shouted from the backseat. “There’s Nate.” In the rearview mirror, Dana saw her point off to one side of the schoolyard, where her best friend had just jumped down from Tess and Caleb’s SUV.
Dana blinked in surprise at seeing Tess in the driver’s seat. The newlyweds had spent a couple of days in Santa Fe but were scheduled to leave that afternoon for a cruise. She unbuckled her seat belt and climbed out of the van with the kids.
The two girls walked away, chattering and hiking their backpacks up on their shoulders. Carrying his lunch box and scuffling his feet, P.J. trailed behind them, unwilling as always to have anyone see him arrive with the girls.
Dana shook her head, then turned to Tess. “What are you doing here? Isn’t your ship sailing?”
