At First Blush (A Well Paired Novel Book 1)

by Marianne Rice

  A working man.

  He missed working with his hands, tilling the soil. Not that the soil could be tilled in Maine during the winter. Still, he’d done something productive other than stare at a screen and play with numbers. He knew he did more than that. He worked hard and helped companies grow. He contributed his time and money to the community. Ben didn’t realize how much he missed the manual labor until he dove back in.

  Seeing time was not in his favor, he scooped up his keys and wallet, and headed down the stairs to the main room.

  “Hi, John.”

  “Can I make a dinner recommendation for you this evening?”

  “Actually, that would be great. I was hoping to pick up take-out and use your front room for a, uh, meeting.”

  “Sure thing. You’re the only guest this week, so the place is yours. Would you like me to stoke a fire? I can bring our beverage cart out as well. We go by the honor system. You and your client can help yourself, just let us know what your preference is.”

  Small town living. Gotta love it. “Anything local will do. Wine, spirits, ales. I like to support the community.”

  “I knew I liked you.” John patted him on the back. “Hope down at The Happy Clam makes a nice dinner. Sure she’ll pack something up to go for ya if you ask.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  Ben’s meeting with Hope yesterday had gone as well as could be expected. She gave him the evil eye at first, a loyal Crystal Cove resident, not willing to give him the time of day until the Le Blancs gave him their approval.

  Hopefully that would happen soon. Starting with the daughter.

  He drove downtown to The Happy Clam and checked out the menu, not sure what Alexis would want. They’d had brunch, two dinners, and a muffin together, and he still didn’t know what she would want to eat.

  Playing it safe, he ordered a fried haddock dinner and two lobster rolls. They could share. The food was still warm when he got back to the inn and he asked John if he could keep it in his oven until Alexis showed up.

  Getting the five-dollar tour of the open kitchen, John told him to help himself before retreating to his private quarters.

  It wasn’t long before Alexis showed up. The stomping of her boots on the front porch caused his pulse to race and he rushed to the door to let her in. A light layer of snow covered her head and shoulders and she brushed it off, looking up at Ben in surprise.

  “You taking over for the Millers now?”

  “Got the place to myself tonight.” He saw the hesitation in Alexis’s eyes before she stepped inside. “Figured we’d have dinner in the front room.”

  “This isn’t dinner. This is a foot massage.”

  “We can do both.”

  “That’s pretty nasty.”

  Ben chuckled. “I’m not going to rub your feet while I eat. Come in.” He closed the door behind her and slipped the coat from her shoulders. Her ponytail swished in front of him, the familiar scent of honey and earth stirring up his senses. “When did it start snowing?”

  “When I was about a mile from here. Just started.” She bent down and unlaced her boots, arranging them neatly by the door.

  He wanted her to stay for dinner. For the night. But he didn’t want her driving in a storm. Disappointed, he held up her coat.

  “You should go home before the roads get too bad.”

  “It’s nothing. Like I said, just a few flakes coming down.”

  “It’ll get worse. It’s Maine. I’ve heard about your weather.”

  “It’s not my first snowstorm, California boy. I can drive in a few inches of snow. You just want to get out of your bet.”

  “If it gets too bad you can stay here.”

  Alexis stilled and looked at him with lowered lids. “As if.”

  “The Millers have plenty of open rooms.” Although he’d rather have her in his bed.

  “Oh. Yeah.” Alexis’s cheeks reddened and she nodded in acquiescence.

  Seeing her wariness as she shifted from foot to foot, he changed the topic to a more comfortable one. Food. “Come on. Let’s eat.” Ben directed her to a round game table by the fire and left for the kitchen to get the food.

  They didn’t eat in silence as he thought they would. Instead, he listened to Alexis babble about the past twenty-four hours, retelling the story of the picking and the harvest, as if he hadn’t been by her side the entire event.

  She was animated, glowing, and radiant. The love of the land, of agriculture, of wine was evident in her hand gestures and in her sparkle.

  “I can tell. This is going to be our big break. Crystal Ice is going to put Coastal Vines on the map.”

  She chose his suggestion. Pride and gratitude bubbled in his chest. “It’ll be a best seller.”

  “We’ll have orders we can’t fulfill. I was on the phone with Jacque and he invited me to Niagara. I don’t have a passport. I suppose I’ll need to look into that.”

  Ben tamped down the unfamiliar jealousy that percolated in his chest. “Jacque?” First Brandon, now a French guy?

  “He’s the head winemaker at Niagara Wines in Ontario and offered to take me on a tour. They’ll be making ice wine for a few more weeks. I don’t suppose I can get a passport so quickly.”

  “Highly unlikely,” Ben said in relief.

  “Even so, I can’t wait to sample their ice wines. I’ve had some from the U.S., never from Canada though. It’s my dream.”

  “Dreams are good.” She sounded more excited to tour another winery in another country than tour her own state.

  “You won’t need a passport to tour Napa Valley. Or Sonoma. And the weather is a hell of a lot warmer than it is here or in Canada.”

  “The weather doesn’t bother me. I have thick blood.” Alexis sipped her Lobster Red and scooped up a glob of ketchup with her fry.

  “Your parents have visited. You have no desire to?”

  “I didn’t say that. The wine business fascinates me. But what you do in California is very different than what we do here. Our wines are from cultivated grapes that we then grow in Maine, which in itself is an amazing feat.”

  “Agreed.” He sat back and rolled the stem of his wine glass between his fingers, fully engrossed in Alexis.

  “Most of our Maine wineries feature local produce as well. Blueberries, strawberries, apples, pears, blackberries.”

  “Yet you don’t. Why?”

  “I want to be original.”

  “You’re traditional. How is that original?”

  Alexis wiped her hands on her napkin and sunk into her chair. “Adding other ingredients to our wines seems…traitorous. My grandfather, he didn’t like what he was seeing with other wineries succumbing to new fads.”

  “Yet many in your region love the use of local produce.”

  “Did you know there are some wines that don’t have a single grape in them?”

  “And that’s bad because?”

  “Your family has a reputable vineyard. What would your reaction be if some mom and pop place took up shop near you and sold fruit wines?”

  “I’d say good for them.”

  “And inside you’d think of them as a fraud.”

  “Fraud?”

  “Yes. On the outside label, by the bottle, by the packaging, people would think they were drinking wine, but really what they’re drinking is squished blackberries and apples.”

  “As opposed to squished grapes.”

  Alexis huffed and stood, pacing the small space. “I don’t want noses turned down at us.”

  “Who is turning their nose on you, Alexis?” It sounded like she was turning her nose down at others. It wasn’t the fruit that bothered her. He got to his feet and loomed over her, trying to figure out the complex woman in front of him.

  “Society is so caught up in the rush. They want the hottest phone, the fastest Internet, low carb, fat free, trendsetting clothes…the list goes on.”

  “That’ll never change.” Ben leaned his shoulder against the mantel and sippe
d his drink, studying her mouth; her expression dulled, and a sadness ghosted her face. “There’s a difference between keeping up with the times and conforming to them.”

  “Is there?” she asked, her eyes downcast. “I don’t want to pretend to be someone I’m not.”

  “And who are you, Alexis Le Blanc?” He inched closer, lowering his mouth until their breath mingled. The conversation had shifted from wine to something more personal.

  “I…I don’t know anymore,” she whispered.

  “What are you afraid of?” he asked softly, wanting—needing—to know what it was that made her shoulders droop, that turned her eyes dull and sad.

  “I…” She squeezed her eyes shut and backed away before he could touch her. A lone tear escaped, making a wet trail down her cheek, and she brushed it away with her shoulder. “I want my foot massage now.”

  Snapping out of her somber mood, she sat on the love seat near the fire and removed her socks.

  She was not as straightforward and simple as she liked people to think. He’d figured that out the first time he met her, and every time they talked she unknowingly removed another layer that protected the real Alexis.

  Getting to know a woman had never been a priority, but figuring out the likes of Alexis Le Blanc was turning into a fascinating journey.

  If she didn’t shut her trap soon Alexis would be confessing her undying love to Ben. Not that she loved him. Not even close. Heck, they’d only known each other for a few days. She was Brandon Miller’s best friend for ten years before she’d realized she’d loved him.

  And it took less than fifteen minutes for her to learn he didn’t love her in return. Well, it took her a few months to face the facts, to read the signs he shoved in her face fifteen minutes after they had sex in the back of his truck. So it goes.

  It wasn’t like her to wallow in the past, especially with something as far back as high school. She hadn’t thought about Brandon, or that night in years, and didn’t know why her brain decided to reminisce this week.

  Sitting in the parlor of his parents’ inn brought back some fun memories. Of them playing cards and even roughhousing before John would yell at them to take it outside. Of them sneaking a bottle of whiskey from the bar and blaming it on guests. Brandon puking in the middle of the night kind of gave that one away.

  The Millers were nice people. She’d eaten many dinners at their table, yet being in his house didn’t elicit a longing for Brandon.

  Just a reminder of what she was, what she represented to most men. A tomboy who was cool to hang out with, or good for a quick lay. Someone to scratch an itch but not to be with when the shit got real.

  Needing the distraction, she whipped off her fuzzy socks and propped her feet up on the ottoman, inspecting her toes for any lingering red lint.

  “Rub away, California boy.”

  Ben smirked and kneeled at her feet. Yeah, she kinda liked that.

  “Why is it that I’m California boy today and was the Italian yesterday?”

  Alexis shrugged. “I have other nicknames floating around this space.” She circled her head with her hand, “But you don’t want to hear those.” His laughter shook her to the core.

  Much like her guy pals back in the day, and unlike the few guys she’d dated in the past, Ben didn’t take offense to much of anything.

  “Actually, I kind of do.”

  “You’re perverse.” She sunk deeper into the chair and closed her eyes. Her feet—heck, her whole body—melted into Ben’s touch. His hands were warm and strong and knew all the pressure points, using the perfect balance of firm and soft stokes.

  Oh, what it would feel like if he touched the rest of her body? Even with her eyes closed she could feel his heated gaze on her. It was alluring, intoxicating, having so much power over a man. Even if the power was purely sexual and wouldn’t be there in the morning, a part of her wanted to follow Nike’s advice and ‘just do it’.

  She was a grown woman and could handle a one-night’s stand. She’d had them before, although at the time she didn’t know they were only for one night. Tonight she’d go in with eyes wide open.

  He switched to her other foot and she whimpered.

  “Too much?”

  “Hardly.” Slowly Alexis opened her eyes and practically purred. “The roads are probably pretty slick right now.”

  Ben’s hands stilled on her foot, his shoulders rigid, and his eyes widened. She wiggled her foot from his grasp and, pointing her toes, stroked his chest, working her way down toward his crotch.

  “Alexis,” he warned.

  “Hmm?”

  “Do you know what you’re doing?”

  Her brows drew together in question.

  No. Of course she didn’t. She didn’t know how to flirt with men. She was as far from being a seductress as Ben was from being an ogre. He didn’t need to remind her how far out of his league she was. Her cheeks were on fire with embarrassment. Alexis yanked her foot back and leaned over the chair to search for her socks.

  “Alexis?”

  “It’s late. I gotta go.” She stumbled over his foot, and would have fallen flat on her face if Ben’s hands hadn’t reached out grabbed her around the waist.

  “Don’t go,” he whispered in her ear. Her back was to his front, his arm firmly around her middle, and she resisted the urge to lean into him. Ben slid his free hand up her arm and caressed it slowly across her shoulder, until he cupped her chin, gently moving her head to the side, exposing her neck.

  Warm lips grazed her exposed skin, and she closed her eyes so she could focus on their skin-to-skin contact. He smelled like soap and wood smoke and something spicy. Most likely his pricey California cologne. Whatever the combination, he was all man. And his lips and hands made her feel all woman.

  Tingles in long forgotten places; a tightening in her breasts, a longing in her heart. Alexis turned her head to face him, hoping she didn’t appear too desperate for his lips on hers.

  “Alexis,” he said again. This time in a moan. In a desperate plea for more. In a sigh of contentment. Begging for more.

  And she wanted to give. To give him all she had.

  She turned her entire body in his arms, not allowing a whisper of air to come between them, and returned his kiss. Her hands were on a mission of their own, caressing his wide shoulders and solid back until they worked their way up to his hair. Such soft, thick, dark hair that she wanted to rumple out of its movie star style.

  Rolling around in his bed would take care of that as well. Ben deepened his kiss and drew her body closer to his. The heat, from the fire or their bodies, she hadn’t a clue, consumed her body, mind, and soul. She wanted him.

  Now.

  Alexis lowered her hands until they reached the button on his jeans.

  “Wait.” Ben covered her hands with his and, keeping his lips still on hers, spoke softly. “I, uh…I think we should…” His chest rose and fell rapidly in between words. He rested his forehead against hers and moved her hands aside.

  “You don’t want to?”

  “Not right now. Not like this.”

  Alexis stepped away from him and sneered. “And here we go again with your mixed signals and my second thoughts.” He’d stopped them the other night outside Willie’s. Granted that was most likely because of his secret identity. Tonight, however, even hating the reason for his trip to Maine, she was willing to get down and dirty with him, yet he rejected her.

  She’d never be good enough, not even for a one-night stand. Keeping to her winery, to the land that gives as much as it takes, was the best place for her. Guys, heck, humans, didn’t give her as much joy and confidence as her grapes and berries and dog. Why she thought she could mingle with the rest of them was beyond her.

  “I’ll get out of your way then.” She pushed past Ben and made her way to the entry, shoving her feet into her boots, and looking around for her coat. Remembering he’d hung it over the back of a chair in the front room, she ditched etiquette and stomped back
through the inn to retrieve it.

  “Alexis.”

  “You’ve said my name about ten times in the past ten minutes and each time with a different inflection. Alexis, you’re fun to be around. Alexis, you turn me on. Alexis, I want to have sex with you. Alexis, I don’t want to have sex with you. Leave. Stay. Leave. Until you figure out your issues, leave me the hell alone with those lips and those hands. Flirting is the biggest waste of time in all humanness. It’s stupid and pointless. Either tell me you want to have sex, or tell me you don’t. No biggie.”

  “I think it’s pretty evident how I feel about you.”

  “Really? Well, maybe it’s ‘cause I’m some dumb, uneducated redneck from small town Maine, but I don’t understand.” She shoved her arms in her coat and yanked the zipper up quickly, almost catching her lip in the process.

  “You want brutal honesty?”

  “That would be nice. For once.”

  Ben grabbed the collar of her jacket and jerked her toward him, their faces inches apart. “I want you. In my bed. Underneath me. On top of me. But I also don’t want to hurt you. I’m letting you go because I don’t want to be a selfish bastard. There are things you don’t know…”

  “I seem to go for selfish bastards so…” She licked her lips, hoping for one more kiss. Hoping he’d ask her to stay. Hoping he’d let her go.

  “You’re too…special.”

  “I’m not special.” Alexis lowered her eyes and shook her head. More lies to get her into bed. Only he didn’t want her in his bed. Her mind raced searching for answers, yet she didn’t even know the questions. It was all too much.

  The way her heart raced when he was near. The way her legs trembled when his dimple appeared as if just for her. The way her mind went dizzy with longing when his stunning eyes were so intently focused on her.

  “See, and then you do that vulnerable thing and I just want to…”

  A spark ignited inside. She was not weak. “I’m not vulnerable.” She lifted her gaze to his and studied the intensity in his eyes, the seriousness in his jaw.