by Webb, Peggy
Her fantasies were ridiculous, of course, especially considering that she was not at all the kind of woman a man like Ben Sullivan would marry. Marry? Shoot, she had the cart so far ahead of the horse that it would never catch up. A smart, successful big-city man like Ben would never fall in love with an average small town woman.
When was she ever going to learn to quit chasing after impossible dreams?
“I can’t imagine what’s keeping them,” Ginger Glenn said. “Do you want another drink?”
“No, thank you, I’ll just...” Holly didn’t remember what she was going to say, for there was Ben in the doorway, and suddenly her heart didn’t know how to behave. It thumped against the hot velvet dress in such a wild and erratic way, she’d have suspected a heart attack if she weren’t healthy as a horse and fairly young to boot.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Holly,” he said.
And then, miracle of miracles, he took her hand and their palms fit together perfectly.
“No problem,” she said, the only problem at the moment being her ability to breathe. The last time she’d had to think how to breathe was when she’d witnessed a collision along the beach road.
This was a collision, all right, a collision of head versus heart, of reason and fancy, of reality and dreams.
“Shall we go?” he said.
“Yes.” There was no need for him to take her anywhere. He had already transported her to heaven. “Good night, Senator, Mrs. Glenn. It was so lovely to meet you.”
“You, too, Holly.” The senator patted her warmly on the shoulder. “Take good care of her, Ben.”
Ben’s smile was enigmatic. “I plan to, Senator.”
Holly wasn’t even going to think about what taking care of her meant.
Chapter 14
How she ever got to the car was a miracle. And when she folded herself into the front seat and he took her hand she thought she must be dreaming.
“You were wonderful tonight, Holly.”
“Thank you.” She was sure the faint glow in the car was coming from inside her.
“You’re more than welcome.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry I took so long with the senator.”
“No need to apologize. I knew before I came that this evening was strictly business.”
“It started that way.”
“It started that way?”
“And then it became something else.”
“Something else...” she whispered, hardly daring to breathe.
Was she in the wrong car? The wrong mind? The wrong body? While she wasn’t looking had somebody else traded places with her? Surely this incredibly gorgeous man was not saying these things to ordinary Holly Jones.
“It’s late,” he said, relinquishing her hand to start the car. “You said you had made arrangements for someone to stay with your grandmother tonight, so I took the liberty of renting us rooms at the Hilton.”
Rooms. More than one. Two. One for him and one for her.
She deflated as fast as a punctured balloon.
“That’s fine,” she said. “The drive to Sunday Cove is murder at night. I wouldn’t want you falling asleep at the wheel.”
“There’s no danger of that. Not with you in the car.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but I’ve run out of funny stories. Maybe the radio will relieve your tedium till we get to our rooms.”
She flicked the radio on. An all-night hard-rock station was the only one still playing. She hated the music that had no harmony, no words that made sense, only a heavy beat, pounding relentlessly; but anything was better than having to converse with a man who saw her as nothing more than a convenient party jokester.
“You misunderstood,” he said.
“No, I didn’t. You made yourself perfectly clear.”
“If the idea of staying upsets you, we can go home. I can handle the drive.”
“No, a hotel is fine.”
“If that smile is any indication of your true feelings, I’m in trouble. You don’t happen to be hiding a cache of rotten fruit in your purse, do you?”
Holly exploded with laughter. As Ben maneuvered the car through the traffic he joined in.
“I’m glad I finally broke your bad mood,” he said.
“Comic relief will do it every time.”
“I’ll have to remember that.”
Did that mean he was planning for the future, a future that included her? Fat chance, she thought, pun intended. She had managed by herself for many years, and she wasn’t about to turn into the kind of woman who clung desperately to false hope. No head in the clouds for Holly Jones. Her feet were planted solidly on the ground, only sometimes she wished the ground they were planted on wasn’t so lonely.
“Penny for your thoughts, Holly.”
“You don’t want to know.”
“But I do. I want to know everything about you.”
What did he want from her now? A song and dance routine? Wasn’t her comic routine at the political rally enough?
“The details of my life would bore you to tears.”
“Try me.”
“I’m a small town girl, always have been and guess I always will be.”
“Is that what you want?”
“I used to long for something more, a studio apartment with lots of windows, lots of light, close enough to opera houses and art galleries so I could walk when I wanted to and listen to great music or stand in front of a Whistler or a Monet or a Renoir and drink my fill of beauty. That was after I got over the idea that I would never have a big country house with lots of kids and lots of pets and a big oak tree in the front yard so I could sit in a swing barefoot and feel the sun on my face.”
Holly paused, embarrassed that she had revealed so much of herself to a man who obviously was just making polite conversation. She turned down the heater, turned down the radio, and pushed up the sleeves of her velvet dress.
“I don’t know why I told you all that.”
“Because I asked.”
A woman with nothing to lose could be reckless.
“Why?” she said, surprised at her audacity, but pleased as well. Just because she wasn’t cover girl material didn’t mean she had to be somebody’s pet mouse.
He didn’t answer right away. The entrance to their hotel was brightly lit, and she could see him clearly, see his hands relaxed on the steering wheel, his hair ruffled by the wind, his square jaw with a hint of dark shadow. In the closeness of the car he was both boyishly appealing and extraordinarily sensual.
He parked the car then turned toward her.
“This is why.”
He reached for her then, and the thought that she should turn away was only fleeting. This man, this former enemy, had suddenly become the very stuff of life. It was necessary to touch him, to breathe him, to drink him in. Her skin burned and the trembling that started inside her chest shook her so hard she had to cling to him to keep from falling sideways.
He didn’t have to say he was going to kiss her; she knew, knew by the look in his eyes, the softening of his mouth. And then that mouth was on hers, warm and moist and tender, and she was another woman, a sexy, desirable woman who knew exactly what to do with a man. Her arms went around him, and she wove her fingers through his hair. Even in the confines of the car, she and Ben were a perfect fit, a pair, together, the two of them.
Don’t think about tomorrow. Just tonight. Only tonight.
The kiss that was sweet beyond reason and tender beyond enduring became urgent, with hot open mouths and tongues tangled in a ritual as old as time. Holly wanted Ben as she had never wanted another man. She wanted him so badly her skin burned.
His kisses told her that she was pretty, she was desirable, she was more than just somebody’s granddaughter, somebody’s sister, somebody’s ex-girlfriend. If he never kissed her again, she would always be grateful for this moment. If he never saw her again, what he did for her tonight in the front seat of his sleek black Corvette was worth all the years of lo
neliness and waiting.
“I want more, Holly,” he said, his voice full of quiet conviction. “I want one room and one bed.”
Maybe she should have been cautious. Maybe she should have told him she didn’t want to be a one night stand. Maybe she should have questioned his motives.
But she didn’t. Miracles came once in a lifetime, and she was going to reach for hers.
He took her silence for uncertainty. “It’s up to you, Holly. Whatever you say is what we will do.”
She put her palm against his cheek and whispered, “One bed.”
o0o
It was a king-sized bed with crisp white sheets and a green comforter, the kind of green you’d see growing on forgotten leftovers in the refrigerator. But to Holly it was the most beautiful bed in the world, for it held the promise of all the things she thought she would never have.
“Let me take your coat,” Ben said.
He made even the simple act of removing her coat a sensual experience. With him pressed close behind her, she was acutely aware of his size. He towered over her, big, strong, powerful.
But his hands... She almost swooned when he touched her. Even through all the heavy layers of winter clothing, she felt the currents from the slow, sensuous movements of his hands. He put them on her shoulders then ran them down the length of her arms. Briefly he intertwined his fingers with hers, and then his remarkable hands were on the move once more, sliding slowly upward until they nestled against her skin, just inside her coat collar. With one finger he drew erotic circles on her throat.
“Hmmm, that feels nice,” she said.
He buried his face in her neck. “Smells nice too.”
She didn’t turn when he hung up her coat. The closet door opened then closed. His footsteps made no sound on the carpet, but she knew when he came back, knew by the clean smell of his aftershave and the heat from his body that reached out and engulfed her. She was hot inside and out, burning up with the wanting of this man.
His hands were on her zipper before she realized that all the lamps in the room were on, and she would soon be standing naked in the unforgiving glare.
“Wait,” she said. “The lights.”
“I want to see you.”
Oh, help. He would see her belly that hadn’t been flat in ten years and her thighs that looked like the support posts of a stadium. Coming to this room with him had been a terrible idea. One look at her in the nude and he would change his mind. He would get a violent headache or a terrible stomach ache or an instant case of hives... anything to keep from making love to a woman that her ex almost- husbands had found unlovable.
“Maybe this is not such a good idea,” she whispered.
With his hands on her shoulders, he gently turned her around. She couldn’t bear to look at his face. He was a smart, worldly-wise man; he would know exactly what she was thinking.
“Holly... Look at me.” With two fingers, he tipped up her chin. “You are charming, warm, intelligent, and fun to be with. But more than that, you are real.”
One witty remark and she could turn this situation into something they would both laugh about on the drive back home. When she opened her mouth, he put a finger over her lips.
“Shhh, don’t say anything.”
He caressed her lips with slow, easy strokes that slid back and forth, heating her inside and out. And when his finger dipped into her mouth and tantalized her tongue, she moaned. She couldn’t help herself. Ben was the kind of man who brought out the beast in her, and she was the kind of woman who turned it loose and gave it full range.
His smile was quick, brilliant, and knowing.
“You like that, don’t you?”
“Yes.” More than liked it: She loved it, adored it, would walk over hot coals just for the feel of it. “You know how to drive a woman crazy, don’t you?”
He seemed surprised and genuinely pleased. “Do I?”
“Ohhh, yes... indeed you do.”
He bent over her and slid his lips down the side of her cheek, down her neck, then back up until they were close to her ear. His breath was warm against her skin.
“The feeling is mutual, Holly. You drive me mad.”
When his mouth moved back around to capture hers, all her inhibitions tumbled away. Passion that had been dormant for so long burst into full bloom. Nothing mattered except the moment, the moment and the man.
With every lamp in the room still glowing, Holly tumbled toward the bed, tumbled toward paradise. And as she fell, she was surrounded by the sweet scent of orange blossoms.
Chapter 15
It was late to be having breakfast, but Ben always started his day with the meal he termed brain food. The English muffins had never tasted fresher, the oranges sweeter, the milk smoother.
When he refilled his coffee cup, he stood at the window a moment appreciating the quiet beauty of the farm. Gertrude the cow, having recovered from her misadventure at the church, was placidly munching from a mound of hay piled in the pasture. The other cows were in various states of repose, some lying under the huge oak trees, others beside the lake, while the ever faithful Henry stood on the other side of the hay mound.
It was a tranquil scene, far removed from the hustle and bustle of Washington. Finally Ben understood why he had chosen a farm as a retreat.
Not only could he get back to nature, but he could also be involved with nature. All he had to do was step outside his door, and he could immerse himself in the land. He could till and plow, he could sow and harvest. In dozens of ways he could be a part of the beautiful process of renewal.
“Do I detect a new jauntiness in your step, sir?” Hines asked.
“No comment,” Ben said, and then he felt guilty. Hines was more than his employee: He was a staunch advocate, a best friend, a substitute father.
Coffee cup in hand, Ben turned and propped his hip on the cabinet.
“Sorry about that, Hines. Yes, I feel great today.”
“I take it things went well on your date with Miss Jones?”
“You take it right.”
“The two of you make a striking couple.”
“You’re jumping to conclusions, Hines. My track record with relationships is not a very good one. Celebration at this point would be premature. Besides, this is stage one. I don’t know if I can handle stage two.”
“I have every confidence in you, sir.”
“Holly is a fine woman.”
“Indeed, she is.”
They drank their coffee in silence. Ben had always been certain of himself. He never questioned his motives, never questioned his actions: he merely lived in a way that advanced his career and did the least damage in the process.
Introspection was new to him. And somewhat scary.
Where did he go from here? What was he going to do about Holly?
“Hines...” Ben paused. He didn’t know enough about relationships even to understand the questions.
“Sir?”
“I’ve always believed a leopard can’t change his spots. Do you think it’s possible?”
“I believe anything is possible. If this leopard has a strong enough will, he can make anything happen.” Hines sipped his coffee while Ben digested that in silence. “Is this leopard somebody I know, sir?”
“Yes.”
“I thought so.” Hines shoved his coffee cup aside and folded his hands in his lap. “Sometimes a leopard can be mistaken. Sometimes he can only think he needs to change his spots, when all he needs to do is change his habits.”
Ben was touched. Under the guise of watching the donkey, he turned to the window and cleared his throat.
“Hines, suppose this leopard decided to change his habits. Where do you think he should start?”
“I couldn’t presume to answer that. It’s something the leopard will have to figure out for himself.”
Expressing his feelings was new to Ben, but he had to start somewhere.
“When you go home for Christmas, I’m going to miss you, Hines
. I always do. Have I ever told you that?”
“No, but I suspected as much. The feeling is mutual, sir.”
If they kept up this line of conversation, the next thing Ben knew they would be sitting around bawling like two little old ladies. Come to think of it, tears might not be such a bad idea. He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried.
“Well... Time to get to work. What did you find out about Michael Snipes?”
Hines retrieved a fat file folder from Ben’s desk.
“This is not the first farm he’s lost. He lived in Alabama, Georgia, and Arkansas before coming to Mississippi. He kept his farm in Alabama two years, then the year they lived in Georgia he worked as a night watchman, a school custodian, and a security guard. In Arkansas he mostly drew unemployment.”
“Bottom line?”
“He’s a ne’er-do-well, sir.”
And Holly’s friend.
Ben’s brow furrowed as he studied the folder. There was more. Jo Ann Snipes had tried to attend night school, but each time she had to drop out because Michael was moving on. The children’s grades had suffered because of moving from school to school.
Ben had never subscribed to the theory that throwing money at a problem was the way to solve it. There had to be another way. When he lived in D.C., he took long walks along Pennsylvania Avenue when he needed to wrestle with a problem. Now he not only had the farm but the beach.
“I’m going for a walk, Hines. When I get back, we’ll talk.”
Ben grabbed his jacket from a hook on the back porch. He’d been so busy moving then doing repairs that he had never taken the time to walk his land. The wind was bracing, the fallen leaves crisp under his feet, the Mississippi sun bright and warmer than it should have been for December. By the time Ben reached the curve in the path that led to the beach, he shed his coat.