Bed, Breakfast, and Beyond

by Bonnie Gardner

Ben's tense posture seemed to sag and lighten at the same time. He drew in a deep breath then exhaled slowly. "All right," he answered carefully. "Neutral territory."

  Relief flooded through her, and Corrie answered quickly, breathlessly. "Yes, in the lobby." That was about as public as this place offered, considering that they were the only two people here.

  With the exception, perhaps, of two ghosts.

  The back of Corrie's neck prickled, and she instinctively reached back to rub it — as if that would do any good. "I have to put this away." She nodded toward the hand-held vacuum she still clutched. "I'll meet you downstairs in a few minutes."

  Then she scurried out of the room and to the upstairs utility closet before Ben had a chance to think and change his mind.

  Or she did.

  Corrie didn't need to be trapped in that bedroom with his larger-than-life presence any more than she needed that bed to remind her of what could happen between them. Her mind might be able to resist the man who seemed to use up all the space in a room by his very presence, but her traitorous body couldn't.

  And she wasn't sure how long she could keep her brain from siding with what really mattered.

  Corrie opened the closet door, flipped on the light, and sighed. Vanessa had been telling her that she needed a fling to help purge the bad taste that Darrell had left with her and the wounded feeling that still lingered in spite of three hundred miles of distance and a year's time.

  Oh, she was pretty sure that Ben would be the one who could do the trick. But, she asked herself, remembering his intelligent face and those sensuous lips that had kissed her silly only the night before, did she really want a fling?

  In spite of all her education and training, Corrie Venable Wallace was just as traditional as her namesake. She really wanted a man to have and to hold — not just for now — but forever.

  Corrie stood in the large walk-in closet and stared at the collection of cleaning supplies and equipment. She knew that Ben was just what she needed to expunge the memory of Darrell Ledbetter, but when Ben was done with her, then what? She didn't want to be done — not ever.

  She snapped the vacuum back on its base to recharge, dusted her hands, and turned. One thing was certain: she'd have to be very sure of Ben Chastain's agenda before she let herself go with him. Corrie sighed and, shaking her head, switched off the light and closed the door.

  She couldn't use Ben the way other men seemed to use women. And maybe Ben wasn't out to use her. All she knew for now was that she was going to have to tread very lightly around, sexy, dangerous Ben Chastain. And after Darrell, anything to keep from falling into that same trap was worth a try.

  ****

  Ben settled into one of the overstuffed chairs in the lobby. His first instinct had been to settle on the loveseat and hope that Corrie would join him there, but something inside told him that she, skittish as she was, wouldn't accept the invitation — spoken or not.

  He leaned back against the stuffed brocade and waited, his gaze shifting to the gallery and stairs. When he realized what he was doing, he'd force his gaze away, but inevitably, it would wander back upstairs. He drummed his fingers against the arm of his chair and let out a gusty and frustrated breath.

  Maybe it was worth it to try the loveseat. He pushed himself up and crossed to the larger piece of furniture. Again his gaze drifted to the gallery rail, and again he forced it downward. "What's keeping her?" he muttered.

  Ben leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, and tried to make himself relax. He shook his head and rolled it back and forth to try to loosen the knots in his shoulders. He stifled a yawn and rubbed his eyes.

  "Tired?"

  He jerked his head up in time to see Corrie reach the bottom of the stairs. "Just trying to work some kinks out," he answered, keeping it vague. He normally treated women with respect, but something about Corrie seemed to rouse his baser instincts. He looked at her crossing the room, small and graceful, and for a brief moment, he thought he saw the image of the other Cory superimposed over hers. He blinked and shook his head to clear his eyes.

  He looked up again as Corrie settled into the chair that he'd just vacated. Maybe he shouldn't have changed seats, he thought, as she tucked one leg up under her and let the other swing free. But then, she'd just have sat somewhere else.

  Ben leaned back in his chair and looked at her, memorizing the way her titian hair framed her perfect face, the sea-green eyes, and the defiant tilt of her porcelain chin. He gripped his thighs and pushed himself upward, drawing in a deep breath.

  "About that agreement…" they both said at the same time.

  Corrie laughed nervously, a panicked look in her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak again.

  But Ben beat her to it. "I can infer from your being here, that you're just as unhappy about our hasty agreement to remain professional as I am." He drew in a deep breath and waited for Corrie's reaction.

  Again, she started to speak, but snapped her mouth shut. Her face glowed a rosy red, and she looked away. Too late for that action to do any good. "Yes," she murmured almost inaudibly. She stared at a spot on the upholstered arm of her seat, brushed at it, then picked at a loose thread.

  Ben supposed it was his turn to speak, but he'd sensed that Corrie had something else to say. He waited, giving her a chance to submit the addendum.

  "But," she whispered. "What happened in the kitchen frightened me. It was too sudden, too intense."

  Letting go of the breath he'd been holding, Ben tried to compose an answer that wouldn't put her off or frighten her away. "I see," he told her softly, and he did see. He'd as surely felt the same frightening, wonderful sensations as she had. But he had to disagree. It hadn't been soon enough.

  "Maybe this sounds a little old-fashioned, but I think we need to slow things down a little." Corrie paused, swallowed, then went on. "It seemed we were just starting to get to know one another and then, all at once, everything seemed to go haywire." The flush returned to her cheeks and she looked down. "I'm really not…"

  If there was ever a time for a white knight to come to the rescue, now was it. Ben interrupted her. "I know that. I knew that last night." He laughed ruefully. "I even knew that this morning. If I'd been thinking with my head instead of… some other part of my body, I could have prevented that entire scene. I was the one who was out of line. I was wrong."

  The brilliant smile Corrie rewarded him with made the apology worth it. Ben grinned. He slapped his hands together. "So. Where do we start? The malt shop?"

  ****

  Ben's irreverent question was just the right thing to diffuse the awkward situation. Corrie had to laugh, and laugh she did until tears ran down her cheeks.

  "I'm sorry, Ben," she finally managed as she wiped the moisture from her eyes. "I suddenly had this picture of you in a crew cut and penny loafers sharing a soda with two straws."

  "And you had a ponytail and a poodle skirt, I presume," Ben added wryly.

  Corrie smiled. "Something like that."

  Ben looked at her then, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, poodle skirts would be fine for you, but I see myself more as the duck tail and motorcycle boots type." He pushed himself to his feet, bent his elbow, and flexed his arm, making the knotted biceps dance. "What do you think?"

  Corrie giggled, covering her mouth and succeeding only in turning the laugh into a very undignified snort. "I think I like the penny loafer guy better than the hood with the greasy duck tail."

  Ben's puffed out chest and pumped up arm deflated quickly, but he flashed a boyish grin. "Hey. I have a great idea. What say I just be myself!"

  "That's an excellent idea," Corrie told him. Smiling, she pushed herself up out of the seat. "Now. Before we forget ourselves again, we have to set some ground rules."

  "Shoot."

  Corrie couldn't tell by the inflection whether Ben meant "fire away" or "darn it," but his expression didn't appear to be that of disappointment. She took it as an invitation to continue.

&nb
sp; "Number one." Corrie held up a finger. "We can't be alone upstairs." At least, not until they were further along in their relationship, she added silently.

  "Okay, I can do that," Ben answered amiably.

  "Two," Corrie continued, extending another finger. "My private quarters are off limits unless Vanessa's there. That means my living room, dining room, and of course, bedroom." Corrie wasn't so sure any of those safeguards would really be enough since they'd still be alone in the house a good bit of the time. But somehow she felt safer in the public areas of the lower floor. And, who knew, maybe next weekend when the other guests arrived, it would seem like a real inn and not like Ben was her own personal houseguest.

  "Only two?" Ben arched a brow.

  "One more," Corrie countered, looking down and fiddling with the hem of her T-shirt. "I think we need to…" She paused. How could she phrase it without sounding silly? "I think we need to date."

  Ben posed, his hand on his chin, and feigned intense concentration. He nodded gravely. "The malt shop then."

  Corrie looked up quickly. "Well, I'd hoped for something a little more age appropriate." It was a simple enough statement, so why did she suddenly feel as though she needed a fan?

  "I discovered a nice little seafood restaurant over in Bayou La Batre earlier tonight. How about tomorrow?"

  She couldn't believe that Ben was being so agreeable, but Corrie wasn't fool enough to turn him down. She looked at that wonderful, thick mane of wavy, blond hair and wondered about running her fingers through it. "Sure."

  "Great. Now we need to discuss one more thing. You missed something."

  Corrie narrowed her eyes and furrowed her brow trying to think what she could have missed. "I guess it's fair that you have some say in this. What did I leave out?"

  Ben looked at her, a slow, sexy smile crossing his face. He stepped closer. "You haven't mentioned anything about this."

  He caught her chin with one long finger and sent chills racing right through her. Then he tipped her face toward his, bent, and kissed her.

  ****

  "Oh, Ham. They've done it. Look, they're kissing." Cory started down the long flight of stairs. Ham instinctively tried to catch her arm, though he knew full well nothing he could do would stop her.

  "No, Cory," he called after her. She turned, and Ham felt a surge of relief. "It's too soon."

  The look of disappointment on Cory's face almost made him change his mind, but Ham knew, regardless of his own one hundred year frustration, that they had to let Corrie and Ben find their own way.

  "But, Ham. They're doing it on their own. We didn't cause them to." Cory watched, longing in her eyes, from the gallery rail.

  "Yes, I know dearest, but we must allow their love to grow slowly, naturally. We mustn't make them do anything they wouldn't have done anyway." Ham didn't want to watch, but found himself drawn to the tableau before him. He knew he should go, but he felt helpless to move.

  "Oh, Ham." Cory groaned irritably. "If we leave them to discover themselves slowly, I could be old and…." Cory stopped. "Well, I suppose nothing will change about me. But they could take a very long time." She placed her hands on her hips and glared at Ham. "You were so impossibly slow in making your attentions plain to me. I had begun to think I would have to do something to compromise you."

  Ham flinched, remembering how careful he'd been to court her according to the rules of the society in which they'd been raised. He'd kept his distance even though he'd been burning with unquenched desire. He looked at Ben and Corrie. "Considering the way things have changed since I courted you, I expect they'll come around very quickly."

  Cory crossed her arms over her chest. "I suppose." She cast a longing look over her shoulder at the couple kissing below them. "But, it's so difficult to watch when we can do nothing."

  "I know, Cory. I know. The best thing to do is not watch them." Ham turned away from the rail and headed toward the Magnolia Room. "Come along."

  He glanced back once more. "Cory." He called her again, a warning note in his voice this time. "Don't think I didn't notice that you'd slipped inside Corrie for a moment on the stairs."

  Cory sent him a pained look, and sighing, followed him away.

  ****

  Taking the first move like this might have been a risky proposition, but considering her response, one well worth taking, Ben thought as he felt Corrie's lips give beneath his. Her lips were just as soft as he remembered them, yielding in the same languid, dreamy way. Though, this time the intensity, the urgency he'd felt before wasn't there.

  Ben drew back and touched his forehead against Corrie's and let his hands rest lightly on her shoulders. The kiss had been very satisfying, but after the heat of the first one last night, it almost seemed anticlimactic.

  Maybe that was it! The first one had happened so quickly, so spontaneously that there'd been no time for anticipation, no time for the big build up.

  He smiled to himself. That must be it. After thinking about it all day, after plotting to find himself in a position to seize Corrie's lips again, the final result had been… Well, he couldn't call it a letdown. It had been very satisfying indeed. Just not the same as before.

  "Ben?" Corrie's voice came muffled and breathy against his mouth.

  "Yeah?" he answered, his own voice thick and raspy. Oh, how he hoped she wasn't going to send him away.

  "I think… I think kissing is fine." She leaned back to look at him, then lowered her lids as her flushed cheeks bloomed brighter yet. Corrie tilted her face up to his, closed her eyes, and sighed. Then she shivered as though she'd suddenly felt a chill. "I know this is… this is where we got in over our heads last night, but…. Ben? Will you please kiss me again?"

  Ben looked at her upturned face and the very kissable, pink rosebud mouth. He drew in a deep breath of the rose-scented air he hadn't noticed before and willingly complied.

  There was absolutely no reason to stand around analyzing the situation to death when he had a lovely and very willing woman in his arms.

  His fingers found their way into her tumble of coppery hair, and he lost himself in the pleasurable sensation of kissing her. Here and now.

  ****

  Somewhere between that begged-for kiss and the swirling, sinking feeling in the core of her being, Corrie realized that she had to practice what she'd preached. With an agonizing groan, she wrenched herself away and backed up half a step.

  She took in great draughts of air as she alternately chided herself for getting herself back into the situation and then… bringing it to a halt. At the same time, she searched frantically for the right words to say.

  "Whoa," Ben exclaimed, as he, too, stepped back. He stood there looking at her, his wonderful, big hands loose at his sides, fingers closing and opening slowly as if he, too, wanted to continue, but dared not. "What just happened here?"

  Still trying to rein in her own feelings, Corrie shook her head. She couldn't come up with the right words, any words. She raised her fingers to her kiss-swollen lips and looked at him. How could she tell him what had just happened when she wasn't sure she knew?

  "I-I don't think this territory is as neutral as I thought it'd be," she finally managed to stammer.

  "Heard that," Ben said softly, more to himself than to Corrie, she suspected.

  Corrie backed away yet another step until she found herself standing behind a chair that seemed to offer some sort of barrier between her and Ben. Or was it between her and the strong emotions that had come so recently to the surface? Emotions that she'd tried for so long to forget.

  Warily, she watched Ben, who looked as perplexed as she knew she was. She couldn't tell him how much she wanted to step back into his arms, sink down to the love seat, the floor, and let him do all the things she'd lain awake last night imagining. But something in the back of her mind seemed to be telling her no. Not now, she realized.

  Not yet.

  "I know this sounds really lame," she murmured as she clutched the back of the chair so
tightly she began to lose the feeling in her hands. Realizing what she was doing, she released the death grip and flexed her fingers.

  Ben didn't respond, but watched her expectantly. She could tell by the rhythmic, almost hypnotic way that he opened and closed his fingers that he was as bothered about what had happened as she. Corrie drew in a deep breath and averted her eyes.

  "But, all this…." Again, she groped for the perfect word. "Passion," she finally settled on. "All this passion — not that it wasn't wonderful — scares me.

  "It seems like we started in the wrong place. In the middle. No, the end. I don't feel that I've had the chance to know you." She drew in a slow, calming breath. Too bad it didn't work. "And until I do, I…."

  Ben walked around the chair and placed his big, strong hand over hers. "I get it, Corrie. I do. And, so help me, even if it kills me, I'll respect your wishes." He lifted her hand and brought it to his lips and kissed it, causing a repeat of all the sensations and emotions she'd tried so hard to squelch to race through her hypersensitive body.

  He let go then and stepped away. "Good night," he murmured softly, the husky timbre of his voice caressing her ears. He closed the distance between him and the stairs far too quickly for Corrie. He paused at the bottom and glanced back over his shoulder, his faced creased with a warm grin. "See you at the malt shop."

  Corrie smiled. She knew that Ben's intentions had been as noble as hers had been, but something kept compelling them to go forward, and she kept dragging them back.

  "Ben?" she called softly as he started up the stairs. She half hoped he hadn't heard her, but he had.

  He turned.

  "I don't know how I came by this idea, but I can't shake it." She paused, wondering if he would think the notion as stupid as she did. "I feel as if… almost as if we're being… manipulated."

  Ben didn't say anything in response to her far-fetched statement, but he didn't laugh either. He only nodded slightly — or had he? — then turned.

  Wondering what to make of him, the situation, and even herself, Corrie watched until Ben reached the top of the stairs and moved onto the gallery and out of sight.