He felt her gaze on him. “You always wanted to open a restaurant?”
He looked at her. “No. First I envisioned this ultimate skateboarders heaven. It was at the beginning of the extreme sports turn. The only problem was my dad wouldn’t let me have a skateboard, so that dream vanished pretty quickly.” He chuckled. “I lost a lot of fish that way. My dad said that I’d miss out on a lot of opportunities in life if I kept walking around with my head in the clouds.”
“And your mom?”
He slid his hands into the pockets of his slacks and squinted out at the waves just beginning to throw back the morning sun. “Never knew her. She left my dad shortly after I was born.”
“Oh, God, I’m sorry.”
He scanned her pretty face, ascertaining that she genuinely was. Having met so many people over the years he’d owned the restaurant, he knew that people always said the words, but not many of them meant it.
Not that he went around telling everyone about his mother. He didn’t. In fact, he was surprised he’d shared what he had with Reilly. Actually, a lot of what he did with Reilly surprised him. He’d never come on to a woman as strongly as he did her. And the teasing…
“What about you?” he asked.
“Me?”
“Family? Mother and father?”
“Big one. I’m the middle of five children. Mom and Dad are still together.”
She seemed to hesitate over something, then closed her delectable mouth.
“This place is everything and far more than I even imagined it would be. And I have quite an active imagination,” she murmured, turning to look out the window again. “Your dad must be proud.”
Ben stepped over to the bar and let himself behind it. “I don’t know how he would feel. He’s never been here.”
“Never?”
He shook his head as he went about making a strong pot of coffee.
“Does he live far away?”
“Same spot we’ve always lived.” He pointed down the beach. “About a mile down that way in an old apartment complex.”
“So why…” her words drifted off. “Never mind. I’m being nosy, aren’t I?”
He blinked at her. “No. You’re being human.” More human than anyone he’d met in a long, long time.
When was the last time someone asked him about his family? His father? And not only listened but asked follow-up questions? Too often he encountered people who used questions to launch into their own life’s story. But not Reilly.
“You say that like you don’t know many of them.” She climbed up on top of a bar stool across from him. “Humans, I mean.”
He took two cups out of a dishwasher. “Maybe it’s because I don’t.”
She seemed to consider him for a long time, then said, “Well maybe it’s long past time you met more.”
Ben was getting the strong impression that he already had. With Reilly.
He told her about his father owning three hot-dog stands. About how his father felt about his selling those stands and buying this place. About how the older man felt he wouldn’t fit in if he did come.
The words flowed out of his mouth easily, unchecked, and Reilly seemed to take every last one of them in.
“Every Friday morning I call to invite him. And every Friday he tells me, no, he’s got something else to do,” he finished up, placing a cup in front of her and staying right where he was on the opposite side of the bar.
Truth was, he liked this. Liked talking to Reilly in a way that felt…cathartic somehow. Like what he said mattered to her simply because it mattered to him. And he knew if he was sitting next to her he wouldn’t be able to squash the need to touch her, chase away all conversation.
She slowly sipped her coffee, leaving untouched the sugar and fresh cream he’d put out. “Invite him on a Monday then.”
The suggestion was so simple, so straightforward, that Ben didn’t immediately know how to react. Of course. All along he’d wanted his father to come on his busiest night, perhaps needing to show him how successful the business was. He’d never thought that the crowded environment might be the very reason his father stayed away.
Reilly was looking around again. “I can’t see him not liking the place, Ben. I mean, it’s so…comfortable. The hideaway thing really works. I imagine that if you’re sitting in one of those booths you feel buffeted from the world for a short, precious time.”
He dropped his gaze to her full, unpainted mouth. Took in the natural honey glow of her skin. She was such a breath of fresh air. She appealed to him on so many levels that he would probably be more than a bit…concerned had it been anyone else. But for some reason he couldn’t define, he felt he could trust her. And it had been so long since he’d let go of the reins, he had a hard time keeping from reaching for them again.
Then he’d looked into her eyes and felt a response that was so rare, so unusual that he couldn’t help but give himself over to it. And he’d kissed her and wanted her with a potency that made him forget not only about those damn reins, but everything else along with it.
He wanted this woman. With an intensity that far surpassed anything a physical meeting would provide.
He also suspected that if she knew what he was thinking, she’d run full-out in the opposite direction.
“You’re coming to dinner Wednesday night?” he asked, not wanting to push her. Not wanting to scare her off, but still needing on some deep level to get her to commit, even if it was only to a dinner date.
She stared down into her coffee, avoiding his attempts at eye contact. He caught the tightening of her fingers against the white cup. The stiffening of her shoulders. And he knew that she wanted to refuse his invitation. Wanted to keep the distance between them that he felt lessening each moment they spent together.
Then he watched everything relax as she sat back and smiled at him. “I’d love to.”
7
IF SHE WAS supposed to be going to dinner at Benardo’s in two day’s time, what was Ben doing knocking at her door at ten o’clock that same night?
Reilly jerked away from where she could see his handsome face through the peephole of her apartment door then flattened her back against the wood. No doubt about it. Ben was standing on the iron landing waiting for her to answer. And since she’d yelled out, “Coming,” thinking it might be Layla—who was known to stop by every now and again on her way home from the clinic—or Mallory, who occasionally came by to raid her kitchen—or even one of her nieces, she had little choice but to confront him.
She looked around her apartment. Shabby chic didn’t come close to describing her surroundings. Especially with pastry cookbooks open all over the coffee table and notepads with ideas on recipe variations on top of them, and a rerun of Friends on TV.
What was he doing here?
She looked down at her T-shirt and panties, then turned to open the door a crack. “Ben! What are you doing here?”
He held up a bag. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d give you a preview of what will be on the menu Wednesday night.”
Reilly felt stupidly pleased that he’d thought of her. “Um, give me a minute. I need to put something on.”
“Oh, no need to do so on my account.”
She slammed the door in his face then ran for the bedroom. Now the dilemma lay in what she should wear.
She settled on a simple pair of jean shorts. After a quick check of herself in the mirror, wiping at a smudge here, fluffing her hair there, she crossed back to the door. Only when she had it open did she realize she didn’t have a bra on under her T-shirt. And that Ben not only noticed the oversight, but had his gaze glued right there, where her nipples were hard and pushing against the soft fabric.
“Come in,” she said, hunching her shoulders as far as she could without looking like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. “I’ll be, um, right back.”
She went back to her bedroom, started rifling around in her drawer for the red bra she’d bought a long time ago but rarely wo
re, only realizing as she began to take off her T-shirt that Ben was watching her through the open door.
“Perv,” she said, closing the door on his chuckle.
A minute later she came back out, having lightly spritzed on some kind of pink powdery perfume Efi had left there last Saturday and quickly brushing her teeth.
If it was in the back of her mind that she might get laid tonight, she wasn’t going to dwell on it.
Ben was still standing where she’d left him. He lifted the bag. “Where do you want this?”
She cleared her throat, realizing he couldn’t sit down because there was nowhere to sit. Not with the cookbooks littering the joint. “Put it in the kitchen.” When he turned to do that, she quickly straightened the place up, piling the cookbooks on top of one another while trying not to lose her places. “Actually, while what’s in there smells great, I’m not very hungry. So unless you haven’t eaten—”
Her breath froze in her lungs when she found him standing in the kitchen doorway, looking magnificent. He had rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. His arms were folded over his huge chest and his feet were crossed at the ankles. “I ate something at the restaurant earlier.”
She fluffed a couple of pillows, became aware that she had her bottom to him, probably waving it at him like a red flag to a bull, and repositioned herself. “You want to grab a couple of beers, then?”
She heard the refrigerator open and close then he was handing her a cold bottle. She held it up as if to salute him then took a small swig.
The sound of tinny laughter filled the apartment and she reached for the remote to turn off the TV.
“Don’t,” Ben said quietly. “I watch Friends almost every night.”
“You do?” she asked, surprised and not knowing why she was surprised. “Of course you do. A lot of people do. Or else they wouldn’t put it on. Right?”
She was babbling again. God, what was wrong with her? It seemed every time she saw him she made a fool out of herself. First by hiding in the kitchen at the shop. Then by hiding in her van that morning. And now by yakking away like her fifteen-year-old niece.
“Please…sit.”
He gave her one of those closed-mouth smiles that drove her insane with the desire to kiss him. Made her itch to pry those delicious lips open with her tongue and have at the humor and charm that oozed from him like a cologne. Which seemed only natural because she couldn’t seem to detect cologne on him. A definite change in scenery because most men seemed to bathe in the stuff. Cologne should definitely come with a warning label: less is more. Then again, if they didn’t go through it so quickly, then they wouldn’t buy as much, so that pretty much defeated the business purpose, didn’t it?
Reilly cringed, realizing that she was now mentally babbling.
“You’re nervous, aren’t you?” Ben asked.
She stared at him. Yes. “No.”
“Would it help if we got some things out of the way first?”
“Things? What things?”
He gripped the bottle she held. She resisted the urge to fight him for it, to keep holding it so she would have something to do with her hands, although she had no intention of drinking it. Do you know how many calories even twelve ounces of light beer has in it?
“Things like this…”
And just like that he was kissing her.
Dear Lord, he was kissing her.
Reilly felt her muscles go limp, her body automatically curving into his, primordially seeking what she mentally had been denying it. Oh, he felt so good pressed against her. She loved the way her softness rasped against his hardness. Adored the way he threaded his fingers through her hair then let them rest against the nape of her neck, teasing the skin there. When he was kissing her it was all too easy to believe that they were equals, meeting on common ground, not two people from different sides of the social spectrum. While he’d probably always been a part of the “in” crowd, she had been the person the “innies” had targeted for bullying. She hadn’t gone to one of her school dances. Had always sat at the back of the class, hoping against hope she could disappear. And while their time together at the restaurant earlier had erased some very important lines between them, she knew they could be no more than friends, because a girl formerly known as Chubby Chuddy had absolutely zero future possibilities with hot, popular and sexy Ben Kane.
He slipped his tongue into her mouth, the hand at the back of her neck sliding down over her back and down to her bottom. She groaned, giving herself over to the hot, hot desire washing over her. She pressed her palms against his chest through his crisp Egyptian broadcloth shirt. Oh, the hell with tomorrow. Why worry about that when today was turning out so, so well?
He pulled back slightly and gave her a couple of wet, juicy closed-mouth kisses. “Better?” he asked with a grin, very little of his blue irises recognizable beyond his dilated pupils.
“Hmm?”
“I asked if you were feeling better. You know, if your nervousness is gone.” His fingers swept over the back of her thigh where her shorts ended and her hypersensitized bare skin began.
“That’s what you meant by getting some things out of the way first?” she managed to push through her tight throat. She could feel his hard arousal pressing against her stomach and shivered. “Kissing me?”
“Mmm. Seems you always relax when we kiss.”
Did she?
Yes, she realized, she did.
“So that’s the extent of the…things?” she asked, tilting her head cockily to the side.
He watched the move, his gaze skimming over her exposed neck, down the front of her T-shirt then down to her jean shorts. She idly wondered if he was considering what kind of underwear she had on.
“Yes,” he said, his gaze slamming back into hers.
Reilly was wholly disappointed.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I fully intend to have sex with you tonight, Reilly.” His grin was decidedly salacious. “I just thought we’d sit and watch the sitcom first.”
She considered him and what he was saying and then everything that had happened since she found him standing outside her door. He struck her as the type of man who, when he wanted something, took it. Why, then, was he taking his time now?
“Screw the sitcom,” she said, yanking his shirt from his slacks and making for his zipper.
He held her hips firmly and chuckled. “I was hoping you’d say that. After all, there’s only so much a man can take….”
IF ONLY BEN had known that comment would extend to different areas of his expanding relationship with Reilly. Before he could blink, she’d essentially ripped off his clothes, pulled her T-shirt over her head to reveal the red bra he’d seen her take out of her drawer earlier, then shimmied out of her decadent little jean cutoffs. He took in the sexy little black satin bikini underwear and knew a pang of disappointment. Where were the mammoth underpants?
She pushed him to the couch then straddled him, her blond hair mussed from where he’d run his fingers through it, her lips full and pouty and her body primed and more than ready.
“Who knew you’d be such a wildcat?” he murmured, catching her head and holding her still for a precious moment so he could look at her. Her hazel eyes twinkled, amusement and a hint of a challenge in them.
“I’m a woman into extremes. When I do something, I go all the way.” She wore a determined expression. “What’s the matter, Ben? Afraid you can’t handle a woman like me?”
What would the equivalent to Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde be? Miss Hyde? Ms. Hyde? The Reilly he was presented with now was so different from the self-conscious, hesitant woman he thought he was coming to know that he had to take another look to make sure it was the same person.
And the contrast turned him on to no end.
“Not the case at all, Reilly. I just want to know where the fire is.”
She curved her fingers around his wrist then tugged his hand down until his fingers rested against the front of her panties. “Right her
e,” she whispered. She tucked his fingers inside the waistband and shuddered as his fingertips made contact with her springy curls then burrowed beyond them to the swollen flesh beyond.
“Oh, yes,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering closed as she stretched her neck back.
And he thought he was hot. She was very definitely burning up. And the knowledge that it was for him affected him on a fundamental level that notched his need up even further.
He had the distinct feeling that with Reilly there would never be any complaints like “you’re on my hair.” Or “my arm’s falling asleep.” Or “I have a headache.” She seemed to run on some sort of unseen energy source that caught him up in the firestorm. He could only watch, amazed, as she got up again, slipped out of her panties, then climbed back on top of him again, gloriously unconcerned that she was naked in the full light from a nearby lamp.
“Condom,” she rasped.
Ben reached for his pants and pulled one of out of his back pocket. She took it from him and ripped open the packet with her straight, even teeth, then seemed to consider his length and width before carefully sheathing him.
Ben gritted his back teeth together at the sensation of cool latex and hot fingers against his pulsing erection. Then she was grabbing the back of the sofa on either side of his head and sinking down, taking him in, slowly, inch by precious inch.
So tight…so slick…so hot.
When she’d taken the last of him inside, she took a shuddering breath, her eyes closed, her tongue restlessly licking her full lips. Ben was mesmerized by the enraptured expression on her pretty face. An expression he didn’t think he’d seen another woman wear without the help of drugs or alcohol. No, Reilly was high on pure sex.
He grazed his hands down her sides then around to pop the catch on her bra. The satiny fabric gave like a rubber band, sliding halfway down her arms. Reilly didn’t seem to notice as she slowly rose from his shaft then sank back down again, obviously reveling in the feel of him filling her. He rasped his palms over her taut nipples then leaned forward to pull one deep into his mouth. Her slick muscles convulsed around him and he threw his head back and groaned.
Flavor Of The Month (Kiss & Tell Book 2) Page 7