Surprise Double Delivery

by Therese Beharrie

  For some reason, she slid an arm around his waist, rested her head against his chest again. Her other hand remained in his as if they were about to dance.

  ‘I’ll be fine without you helping me, Ben. I promise.’

  Chapter 15

  He wanted to believe her. He really did. But how many times had his mother said she was fine, only for him to find her curled up in pain somewhere? He was tired of the people he cared about hurting. And damn it, he cared about Alexa. No matter how much he tried to use guilt, or logic, or whatever other reason he’d used in the last weeks as an excuse to see her and spend time with her. He cared about her. He wanted her to be okay. Whether that meant her health, or her restaurant.

  He needed her to be okay.

  The urgency of it was partly from an unknown source, partly from that caring. Hell, it was partly because she was standing in his arms, looking up at him with reassurance in her eyes. Her stomach was pressed into his, and the rounding of it—not much, but enough—sent a rush of protectiveness through him.

  Feeling the rest of her body against his wasn’t as harmless.

  She wore another loose top, but it clung to her breasts if nothing else, as if as amazed by them as he was. He hadn’t been as fascinated by this part of the body since he was a teenager discovering his sexuality. His conclusion then had been that their biological function was as important as their appearance. He’d clearly been desperate to separate himself from his physical feelings then, which was most likely a form of protection. If he wasn’t into romantic relationships, he would still be able to help at home.

  His opinion had somewhat changed over the years. Probably because he’d learnt how to balance things better. If he prioritised, he could enjoy his physical feelings, too. He didn’t have to shun them.

  Thank goodness, or he might not have appreciated Alexa’s breasts in that moment. And appreciating it caused his breath to go from simply oxygenating his body to giving her a signal something had changed. Her eyes fluttered up; something on his face had them clouding with desire. Most likely his own desire, his more rapid breathing.

  He could appreciate more than Alexa’s breasts though. Those eyes, clouded as they were, made him feel as though he were sitting in front of a fire on a rainy day. When they sparred, her gaze handed him a glass of whiskey, warming him from the inside, too. Her lips parted, and he couldn’t resist dipping his head—until he realised what he was about to do.

  ‘I’d like to kiss you,’ he whispered.

  ‘Okay,’ she whispered back. ‘Do it.’

  ‘I was asking.’

  ‘Your hand has been pressed into the small of my back for the better part of five minutes. Seconds ago was the first time you used it to pull me in closer. Now you want to ask?’

  ‘I did?’ He had no recollection of it. ‘I’m sorry. I should have—’

  He broke off when she put a finger over his lips. ‘You weren’t doing it on purpose. I understood that. It was part of the reason I didn’t knee you in the groin.’

  He laughed. ‘If I ever do anything that makes you uncomfortable on purpose, please feel free to do just that.’

  ‘I didn’t need your permission.’ Her mouth curved up. ‘But thank you, I suppose. Now, shall we get back to that kissing thing?’

  He kissed her then, glad she wasn’t playing games when his need seemed to consume him. He moaned in relief when their lips touched and he felt the softness of her. Their essences tangled, their souls embraced, and he would never get over the enormity of it—from just a kiss.

  Her tongue slipped between his lips, and he opened for her as desire pulsed inside him. She tasted sweet—or was that the promise of her? The idea of what they could share if they ever allowed this feeling to become more than a stolen moment. It didn’t matter. All that did was his heart thumping harder against his breastbone, almost as though it were hard work; almost as though there were water in his chest and his heart was thumping despite it.

  If that meant he would drown, he didn’t mind. He would be drowning in her. In that scent of lemon and mint that came from he had no idea where. But it radiated off her skin, from her lips, and he’d never been a lemon and mint man until now.

  His fingers stroked the skin of her arms, aware of how lucky they were to touch her. He memorised the smoothness; the bump near her right elbow where something must have bitten her; the indentations below her left shoulder where she must have got her vaccinations. She shivered when he skimmed her collarbone, when his index fingers stroked her neck. He stored the knowledge away for the future, when he could seduce her more thoroughly, when his desk and his employees weren’t in the way.

  That didn’t stop him from giving it his best effort now.

  He cupped her face, angling her into a position that would deepen their kiss. He was rewarded with her hands clinging to his waist, before they drifted up and fisted his shirt. Then they were exploring his skin, flesh to flesh somehow. He didn’t know how she’d managed to slip her hands under his clothing, but he was grateful for it. Even if it did mean he’d never be able to let another person touch him this way. He couldn’t; not when she was claiming him. Not when he wanted to remember her touching him. To remember how his blood seemed to follow along beneath her strokes, pulsing with need and desire, showing him what it meant to be alive. To live.

  How had he not known it before?

  ‘You’re very impressive,’ she said, pulling back. Her cheeks were flushed, there was a dazed half-smile on her face, and her voice was hoarse. She was the most beguiling she’d ever been. ‘I don’t suppose you became this way in the last few weeks?’

  ‘I’m not sure what you mean.’

  ‘These muscles.’ She scraped her nails lightly over his skin. There was no way it would mark him, but they might as well have with the little sparks going off everywhere she touched. ‘They weren’t always there.’

  ‘No,’ he said slowly. ‘I don’t think they were when I was born. But I was an impressive toddler.’ He laughed when she pinched him. ‘Hey, I was using your words.’

  ‘And being obnoxious about it.’

  ‘I didn’t want you to think I’d changed.’

  Her own laugh was softer than his. Perhaps even thoughtful. ‘No, I don’t think you have. Even though I seem to be hoping you had. That somehow you’d become this man I’m attracted to and maybe even like in the last few weeks.’ She brought her hands out from under his shirt, straightening the material as she did. ‘That was what I was implying with the muscles, by the way. I know they didn’t suddenly appear. I think I only just noticed them.’

  Just like I only just noticed you.

  She didn’t have to say it. Everything she’d already said implied it. But he wanted to tell her she was wrong. He had changed. He could no longer see Lee without thinking about how Lee had used him. More importantly, what Lee had done to her. He didn’t think competing with Alexa was fun any more; didn’t see it as harmless. With her, he let himself be himself. He showed her that he cared for her, despite his better judgement. He let himself take care of her, was honest with her. She hadn’t used those vulnerabilities against him either.

  Sure, he hadn’t entirely opened up to her about how he felt about his family—but then, neither had she. They were still checking one another out, tentatively testing whether they could trust the other. He thought they were there now. And he wanted to open up to her, wanted to know more about her.

  ‘Do you want to go out with me?’ he asked, desperate to do just that. ‘Tonight, I mean. Do you want to go out?’

  Her lips twitched; light danced in her eyes. ‘Are you sure you’re feeling well enough?’

  ‘I’ve made a surprising recovery.’

  ‘Must have been the same twenty-four-hour bug I had.’

  ‘Not quite the same,’ he said with a small laugh.

  ‘Hmm. That would be slight
ly puzzling.’

  ‘Only slightly.’

  ‘Maybe you’ve had an elixir.’

  ‘I have.’

  He moved closer, nuzzled her neck. She angled, giving him better access.

  ‘What are you implying?’

  ‘You’re magical.’

  She laughed. Patted his chest. ‘That, I know.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it.’ He nipped at her lips. Then, when it felt good, kissed her again, lingering. ‘Is that a yes?’

  ‘What was the question?’ she asked, voice breathy.

  He chuckled. ‘Can I take you somewhere?’

  ‘I would love that.’

  * * *

  ‘I know you like kissing me—’ she hoped ‘—but taking me to Lovers Lane seems like overkill.’

  Benjamin laughed as he pulled into a parking space at the edge of the road. All the parking spaces on Lovers Lane were at the edge of the road. Alexa wasn’t a fan of it since the road was on a cliff, which meant the edge was more dangerous than most edges. But she wasn’t going to protest when Benjamin had brought her to this—admittedly—romantic place.

  She also wasn’t going to move.

  Except to eat this broth he’d made her.

  But she’d do it very, very slowly.

  ‘I wanted to bring you somewhere with a nice view.’

  ‘The quarry was nice. It didn’t have such a blatant name. It was safe, too.’

  ‘I’ve already taken you there.’

  It was sweet enough that she leaned forward so she could see the view past his head. It looked much like the night sky itself: dark, save for the lights twinkling back at her. Those lights weren’t stars, but the city of Cape Town, and they weren’t demure and subtle, but brash and bright. They stretched up until the base of Table Mountain, leaving the landmark to loom over them in darkness. If the lights spoke of the city’s vibrancy, its life, then the mountain anchored it. Reminded her that people had families here, careers. Generations had become stronger, less broken, more whole.

  ‘It is pretty nice,’ she said on an exhale.

  He smiled.

  She didn’t want to be caught in it, though it was too late to be coy. She’d already given up something of herself when she’d kissed him earlier. Or had he taken it? No, she thought. The permission she’d given him meant that she’d given it willingly. It made her uncomfortable to think she had, so she was trying to blame him.

  Uncomfortable didn’t feel like the right word though. It was more...like she was going into a battle for the survival of the universe and she had nothing but a sword. Perhaps not even that. Uncomfortable? Sure. Dangerous? Stupid? Completely and utterly irrational? Definitely.

  She took a breath and reached into the brown bag for the broth.

  ‘Thanks for swinging by my place to get this.’

  ‘I could have made you a fresh batch.’

  ‘Your kitchen was busy.’ She opened the container and sighed at the aroma. ‘Besides, I didn’t want my first In the Rough meal to be broth.’

  She closed her eyes at the first taste of it. It had been hours since she’d eaten, and because she was at the Institute, she’d settled for one slice of toast and a banana. She’d blamed it on her bug when Cherise had asked. She’d also stared longingly at the steak Cherise was eating. But there’d be plenty of steak in the future. For now, she had broth. Warm, delicious broth that wouldn’t turn her stomach against her.

  Was pregnancy simplifying her appetite? She hoped not.

  ‘Technically it is your first meal from In the Rough,’ he said.

  ‘This doesn’t count. It doesn’t come from the restaurant.’

  ‘Just its manager. Its once-upon-a-time head chef.’

  ‘I forgot about that,’ she said, sipping the soup. ‘Did you tell me why you decided you didn’t want to be head chef any more?’

  ‘Probably not.’ He paused. ‘I’m happy to share. If you are.’

  She frowned. ‘What do you mean? I... Oh,’ she said when he gestured to the brown bag that still had his food in it. ‘Sorry. I got distracted.’

  ‘Yes, I got that.’ He was smiling when she handed him his food. He went to open it, but stopped himself. Opened a window instead. Looked at her. ‘The smell probably wouldn’t be good if you’re nauseous.’

  ‘No,’ she murmured, touched. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘No problem.’

  He opened her window, too, and only then dug into his food. It was lasagne, and her mind salivated over it if not her stomach. She’d steered away from rich food the last three months, with good reason, but she missed the taste of pasta and red meat and bacon. Sighing a little, she took another spoonful of broth.

  ‘I wanted a change,’ he said between bites. ‘And I thought I was capable of more than being in a kitchen. The idea of running the restaurant intrigued me.’

  ‘Did it live up to your expectations?’

  ‘It did.’ His mouth lifted on one side. ‘I think I lived up to its expectations, too.’

  ‘If that’s your way of giving yourself a compliment, you didn’t have to. I could have told you that you were doing a good job.’

  ‘But would you have?’

  ‘Maybe. After some coercing.’

  ‘Of what kind?’ His voice had dropped seductively. He leaned closer, but she pulled back. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘I can’t kiss you when you’re eating that.’

  ‘Oh.’ He frowned down at the food, as if it had betrayed him. As if he couldn’t believe that it had. ‘I wasn’t thinking.’

  ‘You were, but not with...’ She broke off with a demure smile. ‘I’m not going to be crass.’ She patted his cheek. ‘But yes, that would have been appropriate coercion.’

  ‘Seems a little cruel to remind me when I can’t do it.’

  ‘I can be a little cruel sometimes.’

  With a small smile that seemed to say I know—which pleased her more than offended her—he asked, ‘Why did you stop being head chef?’

  ‘I never was. Well,’ she reconsidered, ‘a lot of my responsibilities blurred the lines with the position, but I knew that I wanted to have other input than in the kitchen to make Infinity the best it could be. I also wanted the business to run independently of me. Or I guess I wanted to run independently of the business.’

  ‘So you could have a life.’

  ‘And maybe babies.’

  ‘You thought about babies then?’

  ‘I suppose I did, though it wasn’t “oh, I should do this to have babies”.’ She set the spoon against the rim of the container. ‘I knew I didn’t want my life to look like my parents’. Mostly business,’ she clarified when she realised he wouldn’t know. ‘They work a lot, enjoy it, barely spend time at home. I wanted to have more than that. I wanted to have a family. I forgot about it while I tried to get Infinity up and running. Then after an employee brought her kid to work, it hit me: I wanted a home life, too. With babies.’

  ‘That’s why your place is so homey.’

  ‘You still sound surprised.’

  ‘Not surprised—jealous. I would love to be so intentional about...everything.’ He closed the container his food was in. ‘I spent a lot of my time not doing what I wanted to do. When I got to do it, I realised it wasn’t really what I wanted to do.’

  ‘But you’re there now, aren’t you?’ she asked. ‘You like running the restaurant.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Great. So you got there in your professional life. Just figure out how to get there in your personal life.’

  ‘Easier said than done.’

  ‘Of course. But you’re the only one who can do it.’ She closed the container her own food was in and put it in the brown bag. Did the same for his when he handed it to her. ‘You can live your life doing the easy thing and going with the flow. It
’ll take you where you need to be, but maybe there’ll be more pit stops. Maybe it’ll make you feel as if you should have done more. But—’ she dragged the word out ‘—taking the harder route and doing things intentionally will help you feel proud. Things might still take a long time, but you’ll appreciate the journey more.’

  She shook her head, rolled her eyes. ‘I know I sound silly.’

  ‘You don’t. It’s...harder, with my mom.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘She needs me,’ he said simply. ‘If I’m not around, she’ll push too hard. My father would be alone to help her with it. It’s how our family is.’

  ‘Would you move out if she didn’t need you?’

  ‘I... Yeah, maybe.’ His lips pursed, then parted to let an exhale through. ‘Probably. I’m over thirty,’ he said with a quick laugh. ‘I shouldn’t be living with my parents any more.’

  ‘That’s why you’re taking me to Lovers Lane instead of home. Not that you should take me home.’ She closed her eyes. ‘I didn’t mean it that way.’

  ‘I know. But maybe that’s what you get for being a little cruel.’

  He laughed when she punched him lightly in the shoulder. They sat in companionable silence until he said, ‘It’s cool. The way you’ve crafted your life. Not everyone can do that.’

  She leaned back against the seat. ‘I have my parents to thank for that, I guess. For all their faults, they were very clear about having a plan. It was a set plan for them—school, university, work—and they weren’t thrilled that mine looked a little different. But I did have one. They just didn’t see it.’

  She’d faltered at the end, so she shouldn’t have been surprised at the hand Benjamin reached out and took hers with. Not even the way he lifted her hand to kiss it should have surprised her. Maybe it was the warmth that spread through her body because of his actions that did. The way it settled in her chest, soothing the holes in her heart her parents had created with their rigidity.