"You're important to me, too, Ben," she whispered.
He stared down at her for a moment, then his mouth lowered to hers. His kiss was gentle at first, a mere brush of his lips across hers. It was no more than comfort, she told herself. That was all.
But she couldn't stop herself from responding to his kiss. She opened to him like a flower unfurling its petals to the sun. She stepped closer, vulnerable and trusting, and with a groan he pulled her against him.
"This isn't what I intended," he said into her mouth, his hands roaming over her back and urging her closer still.
"Me, either." She could barely form the words. Her brain had stopped working as soon as Ben's lips touched hers. She was no more than a mass of scrambling nerves and a frantically beating heart.
Her body molded itself to Ben's. The fit was perfect, as she'd known it would be. It had been perfect before, and she hadn't forgotten one detail of that night. The fire started low in her belly and raced along her nerves, until her entire body was burning. Still he kissed her, his mouth clinging to hers, tasting, testing, urging her lips apart.
She didn't resist. When she opened her mouth to him, he groaned again. He shaped her hips with his hand, urging her closer. His heat and his hardness burned into her belly, starting a throbbing demand deep inside her.
When Ben lowered her to the couch, she pulled him down on top of her. His body was heavy and hard on top of her, but she gloried in the weight. She yearned to feel his muscle and sinew pressing her down into the cushions, claiming her, branding her as his own.
Suddenly he moved lower, and his mouth pressed against her breast through the thin cotton of her blouse. She wanted his mouth on her bare skin, and the barrier only made his caress more erotic, more arousing. The heat and wetness of his tongue burned through the layers of clothing until her skin felt as if it were on fire. Her nipples puckered and ached for him.
But before she could beg him to touch her, he began to unfasten the blouse. She watched as he slowly moved down the row of buttons, his hands shaking. He paused at the last button, then pushed the material aside to reveal the lacy bra she wore beneath the blouse.
The delicate underwear was her one vanity, her one extravagance. And when Ben stared down at her, his eyes hot with need and his face taut with desire, she was fiercely triumphant. Clearly he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
"I thought I remembered how beautiful you were, but I was wrong." With one hand he reached out and traced the edge of her bra over the swell of her breast. "How could I have forgotten how lovely you are?"
She wanted to tell him that she'd waited for this moment for months, that nothing had been the same for her since that night they'd spent together, but instead of speaking, she reached up and kissed him. She didn't want to break the spell, didn't want to destroy the magic of the moment.
And he kissed her back. For a brief moment, he held nothing back. She tasted his passion, and the desire that he usually hid in the deepest part of his soul. For a moment, he let go of his rigid control, let go of the tight hold he kept on his emotions. Everything he wanted, everything he needed was in his kiss, a kiss that took her breath away and left her wanting so much more.
But his loss of control must have shaken him, because he slowly raised up and looked at her. Then he pulled the edges of her blouse together and lifted himself off the couch.
"I'm sorry, Janie," he said, and his voice was hoarse with suppressed desire. "I only wanted to comfort you. I didn't mean for that to happen."
"You must have noticed that I wasn't fighting you off," she said, and the tartness in her voice hid the pain she felt.
"You should have been. This wasn't part of our deal." He turned around, and she sat up and began rebuttoning her blouse. "Maybe we need to change the deal."
"You don't want to do that, Janie. Believe me, you don't want to get involved with me."
"I'd say it's a little late to worry about that. We're married, Ben. That means we're involved."
He spun around to face her. "You know what I mean. We're not really involved now. We're living together, we're taking care of Rafael, but we're not married. But if we make love, if we bring sex into the equation, everything is going to change."
"And you don't want that to happen." Her words were quiet in the stillness of the house, but she could hear the despair in her voice.
"I can't allow that to happen. It wouldn't be fair to you."
"Why not, Ben?"
"You know nothing about me. You don't know who I am. And if you did know, you'd agree with me. You'd stay as far away from me as you could."
"I know more than you realize. I know what kind of a man you are. I know you'd give your life to protect Rafael, or me. What more do I need to know about you?"
He turned away again, but not before she saw the despair on his face. "I'm trying to protect you, Janie."
"Maybe I don't want to be protected from you." Standing up, she brushed off her shorts and let the anger flood her. It was better than the despair that wanted to overwhelm her. "Maybe you need to let me decide for myself what I want."
Slowly he nodded, but she saw the stubbornness deep in his eyes. "You're right, and I'm sorry. I should have been as honest with you as you were with me. But tonight's not the time for old stories." He moved closer to her and tucked her blouse into her shorts. "Those will keep. There'll be plenty of time for stories tomorrow."
* * *
Chapter 9
«^»
But they didn't get to those stories the next day, or the day after that Ben was always busy, and Rafael was always around. Janie began to wonder if Ben was avoiding her on purpose, but she told herself that was impossible. He was always with her, at the restaurant, at the house, when she went to the store for groceries. But there were always a lot of other people around, too.
Suddenly, after avoiding people for three years, she was surrounded by people.
And deep down, maybe she was afraid of what Ben would tell her. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear his secrets. She really didn't know anything about him. He'd been as solitary a figure in Cameron as she had been before they got married.
It didn't matter, she told herself. She knew all she needed to know. She knew the kind of man he was. He couldn't have done anything that would change her opinion of him.
But that kernel of doubt niggled at her brain, whispering ugly suggestions. No one in Cameron knew anything about Ben, or where he'd come from. He'd just appeared in town one day over four years ago and applied for a job with the sheriff's department. No one knew anything about his past.
So she didn't press him to tell her about himself, and he didn't volunteer. They spent their evenings with Rafael, and tormented nights in the big bed together, trying not to touch each other.
A week after her picture had been broadcast on television, Janie began to relax. She still paid attention to everyone who came into the restaurant, still watched when she left at night, but there had been no sign of strangers in Cameron, no evidence that anyone was watching her.
She began to believe that Ben was right, that she had been lucky. The murderer hadn't seen her picture on television.
Then one morning, as she stood at the front window watching Rafael get on the school bus, she saw Ben's familiar white Blazer roll to a stop at the curb. The truck had barely stopped before Ben jumped out and hurried to the house. She had just gotten the door open when Ben reached the porch.
"Let's go back in the house," he said quietly, then locked the door behind him.
He stood watching her for a moment then stepped closer and took her hand. "You had a burglary at the restaurant last night," he said, his voice flat and without inflection. "Someone broke in through the back door. Jim and Phyllis found the door broken when they got there this morning. As far as anyone can tell, nothing is missing except the sixty dollars you keep in the cash register." His face hardened. "But it doesn't smell right. There were other valuable things that weren't taken, like the st
ereo and the computer in the office. If the burglar was someone after money, they should have taken things that would be easily sold. I think that someone took the money to make it look like a regular burglary."
"You think it was someone looking for me." Her voice was barely above a whisper.
He nodded grimly. "Whoever broke in went through your desk, but as far as I could tell, he put everything back. And he did it carefully, like he was hoping you wouldn't notice your desk had been searched."
"Then how do you know he searched my desk?"
"That's my job, Janie. I've been trained in tracking. I can tell when something's been disturbed. Your desk was definitely disturbed."
She held tightly to his hand. "What do we do now?"
"I think you need to look at everything in the restaurant, see if anything is missing. You're the only one who would know for sure. Then you need to go through your desk, see if anything's missing there. I would love for you to tell me that there is a stash of cash in your office that the thief found, or that there is some expensive equipment missing."
"But you don't think that will be the case."
He shook his head. "I don't think so." He looked at her for a moment, then pulled her into his arms. "I don't want to scare you, but we have to think the worst."
Wrapping her arms around him, thankful for the comfort of his steady heartbeat next to her ear, she said, "Should we get Rafael from school?"
She felt him shake his head. "We'll leave him there for today. I already called and talked to the principal. She'll make sure no strangers get into the building, and she'll have his teacher find some excuse to keep him in the building at recess."
She didn't want to give up the comfort of Ben's arms, but she needed to know the truth. So she slowly pulled away. "Let's go to the restaurant, Ben. I want to look for myself. I want to make sure there was nothing there that would give away my former identity."
Some of the hardness disappeared from his eyes. "I thought that's what you would say." He touched her cheek, then let his hand drop. "Thank you for not panicking on me, Janie."
"Panic isn't going to help us." For three years she'd dreaded this day. Now that it was here, she couldn't feel anything. All she could do was focus on what had to be done. She looked around for her purse, then checked the doors again. "What about the house?"
"I called Matt Packer, one of the other deputies. He's off duty today, but he's going to come and stay in the house. He'll get overtime, and someone will be here, just in case." Ben took her hand again. "I'm probably overreacting. But I don't want to take any chances."
"I don't think you're overreacting, Ben." She gripped his hand more tightly and realized she was shaking. "I've seen what this man can do. And I'm glad you're taking me seriously."
"Of course I'm taking you seriously!" His eyes flashed, and for a moment Janie thought he was going to say something else. Then he clamped his mouth shut and glanced out the window. "Here's Matt now."
As they walked toward Ben's truck, she said, "Matt's going to be all right alone, isn't he? I'd hate to think he's putting himself in danger for me."
"This isn't just for you, Janie. This is his job, and he's good at it. He'll be fine." Ben compressed his lips again. "And whatever else he is, the guy who broke into the restaurant is smart. He's not going to do something stupid like break into a house where a cop is waiting for him."
She didn't say anything on the short drive to Heaven on Seventh, but Ben reached out and took her hand. She clung to him, afraid to voice her fears, knowing that he understood them, anyway. When they pulled up in front of the restaurant, he turned to her and said, "Do you want to go in through the back door? Everyone is going to want to talk to you. I'm afraid that your break-in is the talk of Cameron already."
She shook her head. "I'll have to face it sometime. And maybe someone heard or saw something." She swallowed hard. "I guess my days of hiding like a hermit from the world are over. Everyone's going to know all about me after this."
"Only if you want them to, Janie. I haven't told a soul, and I don't intend to tell anyone. If you give me permission, I'll tell Devlin, but no one else. I think he needs to know, but it's no one's business but yours."
"Thank you, Ben." She turned to face him, holding his hand. "I'm very glad you're here with me. If I was facing this alone…" She shuddered, thinking about how frightened she would be, and how isolated she would feel. "I don't know what I would do."
"You'd do fine. I know enough about you to realize that." He pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around her. "You're a remarkable woman, Janie Murphy. I don't think there's anything you can't cope with."
She clung to him, feeling the comfort seeping into her. "My name is Janie Jackson now," she said quietly.
She felt him tense, and for a moment he crushed her to him. Then he sat back and let her go. "I haven't forgotten that," he said quietly. "I just wasn't sure how you felt."
"I'm proud to have your name, Ben. Even if it's only temporarily."
His eyes darkened, and he opened his mouth to say something. Then he looked behind her. "People are watching us," he said, and his voice hardened. "I'm not about to give them a show. Let's go into the restaurant."
She didn't think that was what he'd intended to say, but he was right. This wasn't the place or time for confidences. So she slid out of the truck and headed for the door of the restaurant.
There were too many people in the area for her to get a good look at all of them. Men and women walked in and out of the stores and businesses, and traffic moved slowly down the street. She walked slowly, craning her neck to get a look at everything, but Ben hustled her into the building before she could satisfy herself.
"Let me look out the window for a moment," she said quietly. "What if someone was waiting for me to come to the restaurant this morning? Shouldn't I look and see if there are any strangers on the street?"
"One of the deputies is doing that." Ben nodded toward a young man who looked like he was writing a parking ticket across the street from the restaurant. "I told him to go out there and keep his eyes open. If there are any strangers, he'll see them."
"Thank you, Ben." She looked over at him, suddenly overwhelmed. "I always thought I would be facing this alone. I'm very glad you're here with me."
"So am I," he said gruffly. "I wouldn't want to think about you facing this by yourself."
"It doesn't seem so overwhelming anymore," she said as she turned away from the window. "Even such a small thing as having someone else watch for strangers in town makes a huge difference."
"I said 'For better or worse,' and I meant it." He steered her toward the back of the restaurant. "Let's get a look at your office."
"Let me see the back door first," she said, veering in that direction.
"He certainly wasn't a pro," Ben said as he watched her examine the broken door. "If he had been, a decent set of lock picks would have had that door open in about thirty seconds. Breaking the lock was a real waste of time and energy. It's also one of the reasons I don't think whoever broke in was looking for money. They'd get in and out in the minimum amount of time, and they'd have the tools to do it right."
"You make this guy sound like a bumbling fool." She turned and faced him, leaving the evidence of her shattered secret life behind her. "He's anything but that."
"Maybe so, but he's an amateur when it comes to burglary."
"I think all that means is he usually has someone else to do his dirty work. He certainly did at the greenhouse when his employee murdered my boss."
Ben watched Janie fingering the broken lock that was now covered with black fingerprint powder and didn't say anything. If it was her murderer who had broken into the restaurant, clearly he'd decided that this job was too important to trust to anyone else. He didn't have to tell her that. She was already frightened enough, and he suspected that she had already figured that out for herself, anyway.
Even though she'd never say so to him. Janie was a remarkably st
rong woman. And a remarkably brave one. Her first questions to him that morning had been about Rafael. She hadn't said a thing about herself, although she had to know that she was the killer's primary target.
"There were no fingerprints on the door," he said gently. "And there should have been lots of them. Everyone who works here goes out that door several times a day. So our burglar wiped the door clean."
"I would be surprised if he hadn't," she said, and although her voice was calm, he could hear a quiver of fear, deep in her throat. "He's not going to allow himself to be caught by something as mundane as fingerprints."
"We got a lot of prints from the office and the cash register, and it's going to take a few days to process them. Chances are, though, that they'll all be from people who work here."
"I didn't think it was going to be easy. Ben." She swallowed once, and he followed the ripple of her throat down past her collar before he could stop himself.
Shoving his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching for her again, he turned away. "Let's go take a look at the office."
She stood in the doorway and stared at her desk for a moment, then turned to him. "If you hadn't told me, I would never have known that someone went through this room."
"You see what you expect to see. You wouldn't have remembered where you left the papers, or if the pens had been moved."
She started toward the desk, but her movements were slow and paned. His heart ached for her pain, and suddenly he couldn't endure prolonging it. He put his hand on her arm. "You don't have to do this right now if you'd rather wait."
Shaking her head, she said, "No, I want to get it over with. Besides, we need to know if he took anything. And I want to make sure there's nothing in the desk that would connect me to my past identity."
Janie sat down in her desk chair and he saw her tremble as she took a deep breath. Then she opened the first drawer in her desk.
A half hour later she turned to him and shook her head. "As far as I can tell, there's nothing missing. And I couldn't find a thing that would connect me to the woman who left Chicago three years ago."
THE MARRIAGE PROTECTION PROGRAM Page 11