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The coffee cup paused several inches from his lips. “That’s flattering.”
“Oh, my goodness, that didn’t come out right. I didn’t mean—” She stopped prattling when she saw a faint look of amusement in his eyes. “It’s just that we’re...strangers.”
“Isn’t that why we’re here?” At her blank look, he continued. “To get to know each other.”
He reached over and covered Poppy’s hand with his, his eyes mesmerizing.
“Tell me why you decided to become a social worker,” he continued in a deep sexy rumble that made her insides quake.
She’d told him about her childhood in Jackson Hole over dinner. But when she’d reached her college years, the conversation had taken a turn to favorite books and movies.
Other than mentioning he’d been sent back East to boarding school at twelve, Ben had kept the conversation squarely focused on her. Poppy had gone along, convinced if she asked too many questions, it might give the erroneous impression she was interested in him.
Slipping her hand out from under his, she kept her answer short and sweet. “I started out in fashion merchandising. But I had to do some volunteer work to satisfy a humanities requirement and a free clinic was close to campus.”
He leaned slightly forward, offered an encouraging smile.
“Since the sight of blood makes me queasy, I was assigned to help in the social services area.” It had been an eye-opening experience for the young sorority girl. “Marlene, the social worker there, was inspiring. Helping people felt right. After that semester I changed my major and never looked back.”
“I applaud you.” Ben forked off a piece of tiramisu. “Servicing the public isn’t always easy. People who need help often don’t want it. And sometimes a person’s worst enemy is themselves.”
Though he’d kept his tone offhand, something in the words sparked Poppy’s interest. Don’t ask. Don’t ask.
“Sounds to me like you’ve had some personal experience with such people,” she heard herself say.
She thought he might refuse to share. Hoped he would. Then his eyes met hers and she saw the frustration.
Ben lifted one hand and began counting off fingers. “Not returning for follow-up appointments. Not doing the therapy they’ve been given. Letting the kid jump on the bed when they have a cast so the child ends up reinjuring themselves.”
Poppy grimaced at the sudden image of a small boy tumbling to the floor and a healing bone resnapping like a brittle tree branch.
Bringing the dessert to his lips, Ben chewed, swallowed. “I don’t understand it.”
He cared, she grudgingly admitted, and obviously wanted the best for all his patients. Including patients who—for whatever reason—were noncompliant.
After several years in the social work field, Poppy often likened human behavior to a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle. A stiff look at each individual piece was usually necessary before one could understand where the segment fit into the big picture.
“It could be a cultural or a language issue,” she murmured. “Or something as simple as the postoperative instructions needing to be more basic. Often there’s more than one reason we don’t do what’s best for us.”
She was seconds away from offering to consult on these issues when she clamped her lips together. The fact she was tempted to prolong the conversation was a red flag.
“What you’re saying makes sense.” He lifted the bottle and refilled her wineglass before topping off his. “I realize there can be extenuating circumstances. It just gets frustrating to repair a fractured bone or a torn tendon and then not have it heal correctly because the patient doesn’t do their part.”
“I’m sure it does.” Poppy took another sip of the dry but zesty white. “Tell me how you’re currently dealing with those patients.”
“Some other time perhaps.” Ben waved a dismissive hand. “I didn’t bring you here tonight to bore you with talk of my problem patients.”
No, Poppy thought, remembering what he’d said only moments before. He wants us to get better acquainted. A shiver traveled up her spine.
Well, she certainly didn’t want him to probe any further into her life. A few questions more about her work history and the only topic left would be the extremely personal tale of her ill-fated marriage. It was a time she didn’t like to revisit even on the best of days. That meant she must keep the focus off of her. “Did you always want to be a doctor?”
His eyes lit up, apparently pleased by her interest. “With my grandfather and father both being physicians, medicine has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember.”
Poppy absently took a sip of wine. “What made you decide to go with the same specialty as your dad?”
“It was a perfect fit.” Ben’s gaze grew thoughtful. “I enjoy doing what’s necessary to make a person whole again.”
“I think it’d be stressful.” Poppy had done a stint in the hospital when she was in training. She remembered the orthopedic patients and their often lengthy surgeries.
“I work well under pressure,” he said with a hint of a smile. “And I’m good with my hands.”
Poppy couldn’t stop herself. Her gaze dropped to his fingers that were currently wrapped around the wineglass. Strong, straight fingers with short filed nails. Large, talented hands that could finesse surgical tools or a woman’s breast—
She inhaled sharply and glanced up. Her gaze locked with Benedict’s and a volatile heat swirled around her. Around him.
Around them.
“I want you, Poppy.” His low tone stirred her already overheated blood. The longing that had been aroused earlier by him simply touching her hand morphed into a full-fledged ache. “I have ever since we kissed at the party.”
She tried to keep the intense feelings from showing but knew she hadn’t been successful when satisfaction blanketed his face.
“You want me, too,” he said quietly.
He was completely and totally right. But to say so would take them places she couldn’t, wouldn’t, go.
“No. No, I don’t.” Her voice sounded shaky and faint, as if it had traveled a long distance.
His gaze dropped pointedly to her chest where her breasts strained against the fabric, yearning for his touch.
From another part of the restaurant, a woman began to sing an aria from Don Pasquale. Poppy fought the urge to fall into hysterical laughter. The beautiful music, the golden glow of candlelight and the sweet scent of flowers spun a seductive web.
Still, she wasn’t foolish enough to believe what she felt had anything to do with romance.
Lust, yes.
Romance, no.
Poppy consumed the last of the Jermann Vinnae in her glass. “I’ve never had a one-night stand. Never been tempted.”
“I don’t make a habit of that kind of thing, either.” Ben’s voice sounded as matter-of-fact as hers.
Thankfully he didn’t hint that this needn’t be a onetime thing, or intimate he’d be open to more. If he had that would have been enough to send her fleeing to her car and heading home.
The fact that there were no expectations meant she was free to consider the possibility of a night of simple pleasure. Poppy couldn’t remember the last time sex had been fun, easy or spontaneous.
Could she really use this man for sex? Yet, would it really be using him if he wanted it, too?
“If we decide to extend the evening—” Poppy lifted her chin even as heat spiked up her neck “—we’d need to establish a few ground rules.”
“Such as?”
It was a question easy enough to answer. Then why Poppy wondered, did she feel as if she were standing on an unstable shore, poised to plunge into water where she’d be over her head in seconds?
Take a step back, she told herself.
But when Ben took her hand and his thumb began to lightly caress her palm, Poppy’s brain faltered. She knew there were several important points she should clarify, but right now she couldn’t think of one.
“The most important rule is to make the night count,” she heard him say.
“Night?” She shook her head to clear the fog. “It shouldn’t take more than an hour.” And that’s probably being generous.
His lips twitched. “The heat between us is hot enough to melt iron. We need to give ourselves time.”
Ben brought her fingers to his mouth in a leisurely gesture that made her stomach clench. Each separate tip sizzled beneath his lips.
Alarm bells rang. Poppy thought about pulling back but told herself if she was seriously considering having sex with Ben, this casual intimacy could be viewed as a logical first step in that process. Besides, it felt too good to ask him to stop.
After a moment, he lowered her hand and laced his fingers through hers. She inhaled sharply when his thumb began to stroke the top of her hand.
“Don’t shortchange yourself,” Ben told her.
He obviously meant the words to be encouraging, but instead they were a splash of cold water. Wouldn’t shortchanging herself be exactly what she’d be doing if she followed through on this plan? No, that was her mother’s voice whispering the warning in her ear. Hers was the one telling her to stop overthinking and go for spontaneous.
“I’m not the type to shortchange myself,” she said firmly.
“Me, either.” He grinned. “That’s why we’re well-suited.”
She straightened abruptly and jerked her hand from his.
“In terms of going after what we want,” he said in a calming tone, his expression bland. “Neither of us is interested in pretending that tonight is about anything more than quenching a good old-fashioned case of lust.”
Relief flooded Poppy as the waiter appeared with the check. Before she could pull out her wallet, the server took Ben’s credit card and disappeared.
“I’m paying for my own meal.” Poppy tugged a couple of bills from her purse and shoved them across the table. “And half the wine.”
“I invited you. This is a celebration.” He pushed her money back toward her.
Poppy puffed out her cheeks then reluctantly nodded. “Thank you.”
When the waiter returned and effusively wished them a fabulous evening, his enthusiasm told Poppy he’d gotten a huge tip. Ben hadn’t disappointed him. Poppy hoped he wouldn’t disappoint her either.
But first things first...
“Birth control,” she said once the waiter walked away. It was simply a little necessary housekeeping. Being wild and crazy didn’t mean being stupid.
Ben’s brows rose. “I assume you’re on the pill.”
“Actually, I’m not,” Poppy admitted and saw surprise flash in his eyes. “My husband and I weren’t able to have children. No cause was ever determined but Bill had already fathered two children during his first marriage so it had to be me.”
Poppy waited for the look of sympathy. When it thankfully didn’t come, she continued. “Then I found out he’d been unfaithful—”
“He cheated on you?” The shock on Ben’s face was too real to be faked.
“Almost from day one.” Poppy’s laugh lacked any humor. “I was too stupid to see it.”
“You trusted him.” Ben’s expression softened. “He was the fool.”
A lump formed in Poppy’s throat, but she determinedly swallowed past it. “The point is, when I discovered his infidelity, I had every STD test known to man. I haven’t been with anyone since.”
When her gaze landed on Ben, he seemed to understand she needed a similar assurance. “I’m clean, too.”
Poppy nodded. Though Ben had a reputation for being arrogant, he also was known as a straight shooter. If he said he was clean, she could accept his word.
“Still, we’ll use condoms,” he said, as if anticipating her next request.
She looked over his shoulder, to all the couples laughing and talking with the ones they loved. Is this what my life has come to?
Before Poppy let herself become maudlin, she reminded herself she’d already tried the traditional route. Where had that gotten her?
“No reason to take chances,” he added when she didn’t respond.
“But we are taking a chance.” Poppy chewed on her lower lip. “Making lov—er having sex, is not the same as getting together with someone on the golf course. Heck, we could both be duds.”
Poppy thought back to all those romantic evenings she’d planned that had ended up falling flat. Her heart twisted. No, she couldn’t make any guarantees in that area.
Benedict shot her a wink. “I’m not worried.”
Well, that made one of them.
Poppy grabbed her bag. “We might as well get started.”
She’d show him that she could be as spontaneous and as good in bed as the next woman.
His smile widened at her businesslike tone. “Might as well.”
“We can meet at your house. I’ll need your address.” This way if things went south, she could simply walk out the door, instead of having to kick him out of her place.
His eyes met hers and her body began to tremble.
“When it’s done, we walk away and never speak of this night again.” Dear God, had those words actually come from her mouth?
Ben’s look never wavered. “If that’s how you want it.”
Poppy stared into his eyes and felt her heart flip-flop. Had she really just negotiated the terms of a one-night stand? Yeah, spontaneity was definitely her middle name. “I’m sure some would call the arrangement cold-blooded.”
“I’ve never set much stock by what others say,” Ben said in that easy, confident way of his. “And we both know what’s simmering between us right now is anything but cold.”
Whether it was the wine, the teasing glint in his eyes or simply the relief at having the details worked out, Poppy laughed and did what she’d wanted to do all evening.
