“Yes, please,” she whispered. “Give me a second, I’ll be right out.”
“Do you want me to take him?” Ben asked. “I promise I’ll avert my eyes.”
After four months of practice, Merry was adept at juggling a sleeping baby while twisting her clothes back to decency. But the hopeful expression on Ben’s face had her twitching the door open wide enough to pass the limp bundle of Alex’s blanket-swaddled body into Ben’s waiting embrace.
Ben had his eyes closed, like the Southern gentleman he hid so well, most of the time. And Merry wondered if he’d expected her to reciprocate and not watch him, because when he felt the weight of Alex in his arms, the soft smile that curved his mouth was so private, so real. Merry was ninety-five percent sure Ben would be embarrassed if she knew he’d seen it.
But she couldn’t help but be glad as she shut the door and pulled her bra and shirt back into place. Every time she started to question her decision, Ben’s honest, loving reaction to her son shored up her resolve.
For a new mom who’d spent a good portion of the past four months feeling insecure and defensive about her mothering skills and her status as the person best able to care for her baby, Merry was surprisingly okay with letting Ben hold Alex.
She paused for a moment, arrested by the realization that on a deep level, she trusted that even if she wasn’t safe from sizzling chemistry and aching desire for her fiancé, her son was safe with Ben.
It was as if a weight she’d been lugging around since before Alex was even born rolled off her shoulders and disintegrated.
Taking advantage of the few minutes of privacy, Merry checked out the adorable en suite bathroom, decorated all in shades of navy and cream with a luxuriously deep bathtub and separate shower stall. She couldn’t wait to take a swim in that tub, to sink neck-deep in fragrant bubbles and relax with a juicy romance novel, and heck, while she was fantasizing, how about a box of chocolate truffles?
Merry unpacked quickly, piling clothes on top of the dresser rather than opening and poking through the drawers the way she wanted to. By the time she’d settled them in a little and taken a guilty, illicit moment to run a comb through her messy curls—why did she bother? In the face of Ben’s perfect home and good manners, and the knowledge of his high-society background, Merry knew neater hair wasn’t enough to make her fit in—it had been ten minutes since Ben knocked on the guest-room door.
She found her way back down the hallway to the kitchen, where a pot of what smelled like beef and vegetable soup steamed gently on a front burner. The stovetop was off, but the soup was still warm and there were a couple of bowls set out, waiting. But no Ben.
Not wanting to call for him and risk waking Alex, Merry wandered through the empty rooms of Ben’s beautiful home. There was no upstairs, even though it looked like a two-story house from the outside, and when she found the living room, she realized exactly why. The ceiling soared high overhead, opening the room to a view that stopped her dead in her tracks to blink and stare.
The entire back wall of Ben’s house was clear, sparking glass, a panoramic picture window that looked out onto a sweeping view of the ocean. The pine trees that crowded the front of the house and the driveway framed the window, which showed how the cabin had been perched just so, at the edge of a rise looking out over the endless expanse of blue-gray water. Afternoon sunlight sparkled on the waves, and Merry caught her breath as she imagined what a sunrise must look like from the wooden deck.
Merry fought down a spurt of panic. It couldn’t be more different from her mother’s ramshackle old family home, full of quirks and squeaky floorboards and tatty curtains. And Ben’s house was certainly nothing like the succession of small, grotty apartments Merry had shared with her string of bad boyfriends back in D.C.
This place was gorgeous. Every detail had been chosen by a loving hand. Even the plump, overstuffed pillows nestled in the corners of the brown leather couch whispered about good taste and sophisticated style.
And here she was. Merry Preston, whose idea of style had always run more to punk-rock Tshirts and jackets held closed with safety pins. She didn’t belong here.
Breathing fast and shallow, Merry quickened her steps in search of Ben and Alex. She was almost running by the time she retraced her steps down the hall to the bedroom where she’d noticed a closed door across from the guest room.
She knocked first, not wanting to walk in on Ben in a private moment, but the need to find her baby and … and … she didn’t even know what. Leave this lovely place before she contaminated it with her bad hair, cheap jeans, and makeupless face? That need overwhelmed every other consideration.
Shoving the door open, Merry scanned the bright, airy room. Slightly more spacious than the guest room, it was obviously the master bedroom. A low, wide bed with cleanly modern lines dominated the center of the room, and on the bed lay Ben Fairfax, fast asleep and clasping a drooling Alex to his broad chest.
Merry’s racing heart slowed as if it had been dipped in sweet, thick honey. Ben was sprawled out on the mattress fully clothed—he hadn’t even managed to take off his shoes before he conked out. But he had managed to curl his strong arms in a loose, protective circle around Alex—who was in one of his favorite, and most hilarious sleep positions, facedown and tiny rump stuck up in the air.
The sight of the two of them together was enough to make a stronger woman than Merry go weak in the knees and gooey in the midsection. Merry decided she could be forgiven for the way every single thought other than “Awwww!” immediately fled her mind.
Looking at their peaceful faces, Merry felt the tidal pull of endless days and nights of interrupted sleep. She edged closer to the bed, drawn as if by the gravitational force of an entire planet, contained in the tiny form of her son and the much larger, more muscular body of Alex’s living mattress.
The way her blood raced and her breath caught at the unquestionably gorgeous planes and angles of Ben’s slumbering form gave Merry a moment of instinctive fear. Goodness, how she wanted him—and how afraid that made her.
But Ben cared about Alex. He was solid, strong, dependable—in short, he was different from the losers she’d been with before. He was no immature, insecure boy strutting around and puffing out his chest to prove his masculinity.
No, what Merry saw as she gazed down at the bed was her baby in the secure arms of a real man.
And as she smothered a yawn, Merry felt suddenly sure of exactly where she belonged.
*
Ben surfaced from sleep as if he were swimming up from the depths of the ocean, a slow rush of light and consciousness breaking through the comforting darkness behind his closed eyelids.
“Hey. Come on, open your eyes. I need to check your pupils,” a husky female voice whispered directly into his ear.
Merry. He’d know her voice anywhere, in a crowded room in the dead of night—much less in his own bed with late afternoon sun slanting through the open blinds.
Disoriented, Ben blinked. Merry. In his bed.
Turning his head on the pillow, he was confronted by a vision from fantasy. Merry was stretched out on top of the white hand-stitched coverlet, her entire body mere inches from Ben’s side as she propped herself up with her head on her hand and leaned slightly over him.
Was he still asleep? This would be one of his better dreams.
“Merry,” Ben whispered, part of him afraid even saying her name would break the spell and Merry would wink out of existence like a blown-out candle.
But she didn’t disappear. She leaned closer, the fresh apple scent of her enveloping him in intoxicating heat.
Lost in the dream world, Ben reached up and threaded his fingers through the silken fall of her hair to wrap his hand around her nape. Her eyes went wide in the instant before he tugged lightly but firmly to bring her lips down to his.
Chapter Eleven
Her mouth was parted on a gasp, and Ben took advantage of the chance to deepen the kiss. She tasted better than she ever
had in any of his dreams before—sweet and clear, but with a mysterious hint of dark spice that had him chasing the flavor with his tongue.
For a heart-stopping moment, Merry was rigid against him, but when Ben stroked her sensitive neck with the tips of his fingers and tipped his head to taste her more fully, she made a soft moan in the back of her throat. As she melted into the kiss, Ben reveled in the velvet of her mouth and the deep, drugging intensity of finally getting what he’d wanted for months.
His body awoke in a roar of heat, passion igniting and threatening to burn him from the inside out. Ben tightened his fingers in Merry’s hair and she made a noise that had him hardening in a breathless rush.
He tugged her closer, every inch of his body aching to press her full length against him, but Merry resisted, continuing to hold herself carefully above him with her hands propped on the bed by his shoulders.
It almost hurt to break the kiss, but Ben’s brain was coming back online, rebooting much more slowly than his tight, throbbing body, and with the dawning of awareness came the knowledge that he’d already broken his promise not to push Merry for sex.
Not that she’d exactly run screaming from the room when he kissed her.
Relaxing back into the pillow, Ben fought to catch his breath as he stared up at Merry’s flushed cheeks and glittering eyes. The deep hunger in her gaze knocked him sideways, rewriting everything he thought he knew about his relationship with Merry Preston.
“What’s going on?” he rasped, half hoping she’d answer with another kiss.
Instead, worry darkened her searching eyes to deep midnight blue. “You don’t remember? That doesn’t seem like a good sign. You were kicked in the head by Sam Brennan’s latest rescue project.”
“And you came home with me to make sure I didn’t fall into a coma and die,” Ben finished impatiently. “Mission accomplished, but that’s not what I was asking about. I kissed you. Should I apologize for it?”
Merry’s pretty pink blush darkened to crimson. “No apologies necessary. Let’s just chalk it up to the stress of the day and the weirdness of waking up all on top of each other like a pile of puppies.”
The only thing that could’ve distracted Ben from taking advantage of the fact that he now knew Merry wanted him back was the realization of exactly why she’d pulled away. Ben stared down at the warm weight nestled against his side.
“Holy crap. Alex.” Ben had been making out while the kid slept right beside him. He could only thank the good Lord that Ben had woken fully when he did, or poor Alex might’ve gotten a crash course in the facts of life a good fifteen years early.
Luckily, the realization that there was an infant snuggled between Ben and the woman he wanted more than he’d ever wanted anything was more effective at dousing desire than a cold shower.
Twisting onto his side, Ben carefully rested his hand on the impossibly small, delicate back of the baby snuffling into the front of his shirt. And for an odd, embarrassing moment, he once again had that disorienting sense of wandering into a waking dream.
Merry wasn’t the only thing he wanted. The chance to be a father, to be there for Alex the way he’d never be able to for …
“He’s fine,” Merry said, still blushing. “I didn’t want to wake him or smoosh him, but I never forgot he was there.”
“I did,” he said gruffly, guilt kicking him in the gut. “I am sorry—that wasn’t the way I intended our first kiss to go. But to be completely honest … I can’t regret it.”
He snuck a look at her, frowning at the worried crinkle between her eyebrows. But when Merry caught his glance, she gave him a slight smile. “Our first kiss. And it happened mere hours after I swore I wouldn’t sleep with you.”
“We already slept together,” Ben pointed out logically. “And it was awesome. In fact, do we have to get up?” He craned his neck to peer at the old-fashioned round alarm clock sitting on his carved bedside table.
Beside him, Merry shook her head, and he was thrilled to see that the lines of worry had been wiped smooth in favor of a real smile. “No, are you crazy! Whatever you do, don’t get up. First rule of parenting: never wake a sleeping baby.”
Trying not to laugh and jar Alex, Ben snorted softly. “Guess I’ve got a lot to learn about kids.”
“I’m not fretting about that,” Merry said, but something in her tone had him darting a wary look in her direction.
“Tell me what you’re fretting about.” Whatever it was, he’d think of a way around it. Ben studied the way her dark curls spilled over the white cotton pillowcases, the easy curve of her waist and the tilt of her head as she tucked a hand beneath her cheek and met his gaze.
“Tons of things,” she said frankly. “I’d be nuts if I had no qualms. Marriage is a big step—and, let’s face it, the women in my family don’t have the greatest track records with commitment.”
“Ella seems pretty happy,” Ben pointed out, fighting down a chill of apprehension.
“But she and Grady aren’t married!”
“They’ve been together a while now, though. And I don’t know for sure so this isn’t me breaking the bro code, but I wouldn’t be too surprised if Grady pops the question before much longer.”
Merry gave a delighted wriggle against the pillow. “Your best friend is totally gone on my big sister. And vice versa.”
“So it’s not marriage as an institution that you’re afraid of,” Ben deduced. “It’s marriage and me.”
“It’s marriage and me,” Merry corrected him, tilting her head. “I’ve made some truly terrible decisions when it comes to men, in the past.”
Ben held his breath. Was this the right moment to ask about Alex’s father? Since her arrival on the island, Merry had been vague and uncommunicative about the identity of the man who’d fathered her baby. All she’d say was that he was out of the picture, by his own choice, and that she had no intention of going back to him even to ask for help.
Not that she’d need to worry about that now.
“Our marriage is a smart decision,” Ben reminded her firmly. “It’s based on mutual respect and clearly defined, shared goals, not nebulous nonsense like emotions or hormones.”
He watched as the line of her spine melted further into relaxation on the bed. He’d obviously been right to stress the lack of feelings rather than delving into her past. She wasn’t ready to know how he felt. Maybe she never would be, and he could live with that.
“Mutual respect,” she murmured. “I like that. You’re a good man, Ben Fairfax, and you’re not going to fool me into thinking you’re not, ever again.”
“Don’t get carried away. I’m acting out of enlightened self-interest, not some kind of charitable impulse.”
Backlit by the rosy glow of the setting sun pouring in the window, Merry was a dark silhouette haloed in pink light. He could barely make out her expression, but he thought she pressed her lips together.
“I hope that’s true,” she said carefully. “Alex and I … we can’t be another pair of strays you take in, like your three-legged goats and cats with no tails. I’m done being rescued—I’m making this choice with a clear mind and heart, not out of desperation.”
The comparison lanced through him like a scalpel, deadly sharp and painful in its accuracy. He couldn’t deny that his savior complex was playing a part in this, but … “I’ll say it again,” Ben insisted, his voice oddly hoarse. “Respect. You have mine. And, for the record, I feel like I’m the one who should be thanking you. You’re saving me from countless haranguing phone calls with my mother nagging me to get remarried and give her a grandchild.”
“You said you can’t have kids,” Merry said slowly. “So why would your mother still be asking you about it? I mean, didn’t you ever tell her why your previous marriage ended?”
The quiet and stillness of the bedroom, the lingering intimacy of the kiss combined with the closeness of sharing a pillow and whispering over the head of a slumbering baby—the walls surrounding Ben’s memor
ies shimmered and dissipated as if they’d been built from gossamer threads instead of rocks.
It was only fair, he realized. If he wanted to know more about Merry’s past—and he definitely did, if only to satisfy his anal-retentive inner physician about the completeness of Alex’s medical records—then Ben would have to be willing to tell her about himself. Give a little to get a little. And if he could divert Merry’s attention to less painful secrets at the same time, so much the better.
But somehow, opening up to her still felt as tricky as shucking an oyster from its shell, and about twice as dangerous.
“If you’re asking for more details on my marriage to Ashley, I’m willing to share them, within reason. Some things are private, though, and Ashley is a good person. She doesn’t deserve to have our marriage rehashed and dissected behind her back.”
Ben saw the immediate spark of interest in Merry’s bright eyes. “So it was an amicable divorce. That’s good, I’m glad—and I definitely don’t want you to tell me anything that makes you uncomfortable. But I admit I’m curious about her. If she’s such a good person, why aren’t you still with her?”
And there it was. The tough question, the one Ben most wanted to avoid … but it was the only question that mattered, when it came to his past.
Grief swelled in his throat, thick and sudden, and Ben struggled to choke it down. He got it under control by concentrating on the warm, twitching lump of Alex’s small body beside him on the bed.
“I’m sorry.” When he opened his eyes, Merry was leaning up over him once more, the same worry creasing her brow as when she’d checked him for signs of concussion. “I shouldn’t have asked. Tell me when you’re ready. Or never! It’s none of my business.”
Ben ignored the hoarse catch in his voice when he answered, “If not yours, then whose? Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault. It’s just hard to talk about, even all these years later.”
Shoreline Drive (Sanctuary Island) Page 11