Fingers gripping the arm rests, Andrea looked everywhere but him. He couldn’t tell if he made her nervous, or the prospect of flying did.
“It’s a beautiful plane.”
Benton wouldn’t classify it as beautiful, but he supposed the muted blues and browns appealed to Andrea’s tastes. Or she was simply attempting to make conversation to decompress her nerves.
“Are you afraid of flying?”
She pulled her gaze back to him. “No. I’ve flown before.”
So it was him who made her uneasy. The thought was appealing, knowing that she was thinking about what she was trying to avoid talking about. Benton wasn’t a man who needed his ego stroked, but he liked to think she wouldn’t forget about the pleasure he gave her anytime soon. And if he had his way, there would be more of it.
Her eyebrows drew together as her fingers tapped on the arm rests, proving his lack of participation was unsettling her. “I wish I knew where we were going.”
As they plane began its ascent, Benton shrugged. “Relax. Enjoy the unknown.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me you aren’t a man who prefers to plan than leap without knowing where you’re going to land?”
“Generally.”
She threw a palm up. “Then why are you so calm about this?”
“Honey, it’s a trip, not a classified mission into war-torn Afghanistan.”
She looked away from him. “I just want to know what to expect.”
The pilot announced that they could remove their buckles. Benton leaned forward, touching her knee. “Sometimes, loosening up on that desire for control leads to good things.”
Though she didn’t jerk away, he felt her tense. Bright slashes of pink colored her creamy complexion. He knew what she was thinking. Hell, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Lifting her chin, she attempted to look down her nose at him. “Maybe.”
He flashed her a smile. “That’s better than a no.”
She shoved his hand from her leg. “You are impossible.”
“Sometimes,” he agreed.
“You’re very hard to argue with.”
He sat back, loosely crossing his arms. “What’s the point?”
“It would make me feel better!” She fired back.
“So, if I was an asshole, it would give you an excuse to stay away from me?”
Her mouth opened and closed. “I didn’t... I mean...” She sighed. “Yes.”
His lips twitched. “Sorry to disappoint you.” Gaze darkening, he added, “I don’t intend to stay away from you, Andrea.”
She swallowed, crossing her legs. “You’re making our deal very difficult, Benton.”
“I didn’t make any kind of deal. That was all you, baby.”
Temper heated her tone. “Well, it takes two, you know.”
He grinned. “Usually.”
She threw both her hands up this time. “Oh, you...” Swiveling away from him, she gestured to the stewardess. “Could I please have that drink now?”
“Yes, of course. What would you like Mrs. Grant?”
“Please, call me Andrea. Something fruity. I’m not very knowledgeable about drinks.”
The blonde, whose name tag he now noticed said Amber, offered another distant smile. “Certainly.”
Benton watched her walk to the mini-bar. “She’s a cool cucumber.”
Andrea followed his gaze. “She’s beautiful.”
“Sure, if you like Barbie dolls.”
She brought her eyes back to him. “I thought that was the classic beauty.”
He scoffed. “Hardly. Unless that’s what you go for.” Amber came back and handed Andrea her drink, asking if that was all they needed, before retreating to the back of the plane again. Removing his vest to get more comfortable, Benton added, “Personally, I like redheads.”
Andrea sipped her drink and pushed stray hairs over her shoulder, fingering the ends, betraying her nerves again. Those blue eyes remained clear and steady on his, until she finally blinked and looked away when it became apparent he wouldn’t. Benton remained on the fence for too long, and now that he knew what he wanted, he would take every chance he had to tell her.
“Drew looked cute in his little tux,” she said without preamble.
Another attempt to distract him with conversation. He would bite; for now. “He’s a good kid.”
“Whatever Martina couldn’t give him materially, it’s obvious she loves him.”
“She seems to be doing good after rehab. Drew likes the little apartment Deacon got her. He talks about it all the time. It’s probably like a playground for him after where he lived,” the last he said, unable to keep the disdain from his tone. He disliked it when people let their vices rule them. His father was a prime example.
She shifted in the chair, pulling a bare foot beneath her. “We can’t know how it was for her.”
Benton shrugged. “Don’t make excuses for her, Andrea.”
Her eyes came back to him, clarity brightening the depths. “You’re thinking about your father.”
“Parents that put their vices before their kids shouldn’t be parents.”
Sipping her drink, she rested her head against the seat. “No, probably not. I can’t know. I had good parents.”
“You were lucky.”
“I know,” she agreed softly. Then, “Do you hate him that much?”
His gaze narrowed on her face. He didn’t like talking about his father; the man was a lost cause. Unless it was for money, he never made contact. But hate proved a strong word and despite it all, he cared about his old man.
“No.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “He just isn’t ever going to change. No sense in telling myself otherwise.”
She leaned forward, placing a hand on his knee. “I’m sorry, Benton.”
He left her hand there, liking the feel of it. “It’s not your responsibility to apologize.”
“I know that. I still feel... It was hard on you growing up.”
He shrugged again. “It made me who I am.”
She pulled back and he felt the loss. “You made something of it. Some people wouldn’t. You should be proud of that.”
A little uncomfortable with her praise, he averted his eyes, pretending interest in the pull-out table.
He barely caught her sigh. Looking back at her, he saw she drained half the cocktail. “Better slow down there, or you’ll be able to say you were drunk on a plane.”
That drew a little smile from her. “I won’t get drunk on one drink.”
“I don’t know. How strong is it?”
She offered it to him. He took a sip and raised an eyebrow. “She didn’t skimp on the alcohol.”
“No... I suppose not. I am getting a little fuzzy.”
He handed her back the glass. “You’re a lightweight.”
She drank another fourth of it. “What about you?”
“Me?” He thought of his days in the Rangers and their drinking contests during the down times. “Honey, it takes a whole lot of booze to get me drunk.”
She swept her eyes up and down his form. “I bet.” The alcohol was relaxing her.
“Are you checking me out?”
A giggle escaped before she could clap her hand over her mouth. “No, I just meant as large as you are...” And she trailed off, giggling more.
He arched an eyebrow again, intrigued by her train of thought. “We haven’t gotten that far yet.”
She stared at him, gulping the rest of her drink in one hasty move. “And we won’t.” But, by the color in her face and the softening of her eyes, she was thinking of it.
He said nothing, only held her prisoner with the weight of his gaze as it sharpened on her, his thoughts becoming much more primal. He wanted a great deal. He wanted her naked, soft skin pressed to his own. He wanted to take his time learning her body, knowing what made her limp with pleasure. And he was resolute enough to wait for it.
All things that took time were that much sweete
r for it.
He watched her breathing escalate, the rise and fall of her breasts more prominent. Her fingers tightened around the stem of the empty glass and she shifted in the seat, as if comfort became more difficult to achieve. His own anatomy tightened with knowing, easily able to guess the drift of her thoughts. If the plane was theirs, if Amber weren’t in the back, he might be tempted to take Andrea into the cabin.
“We’ll see,” was all he said instead.
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
At some point during the flight, Andrea had fallen asleep in her seat. When she awoke, it was to the captain saying he was preparing for descent and to Amber gently shaking her shoulder and asking her to buckle up. Blinking sleep from her eyes, she swallowed against the fuzzy state of her mouth, thanks to the earlier cocktail, and searched for Benton. When Amber moved from her view, he slipped into his seat and buckled.
She yawned. “How long was I asleep?”
“Most of the flight. About four hours.”
“Where in the world are we that it took over five hours?”
Benton shrugged. “We’ll find out soon enough.”
“I’m now permitted to tell you that you are at Waimea airport in Hawaii,” Amber called from the back.
Surprise zinged through her. She had never been to Hawaii, but it was a dream vacation thought. Ashlyn knew it, and it was likely why she planned it for her honeymoon. Her friend was both wonderful and devilish. Andrea knew that Deacon was paying for this and wherever he set them up at would likely cost a fortune. It was difficult not to feel guilty.
“Oh, they shouldn’t have...”
“You know neither of us would’ve been able to stop them.”
Knowing the truth in Benton’s words, she remained silent and dutifully went through the instructions of landing, gathering luggage, and exiting the plane. When they left the stairs and stepped on the tarmac, a uniformed gentleman waited not far away. Andrea notice they were largely alone, and wondered if this was a private section of airport for the wealthy.
“Good morning Mr. and Mrs. Grant. Please allow me to take your luggage. A car awaits to take you to your resort.”
Resort? If she wasn’t still getting used to being called Mrs. Grant, she might have thought more on their accommodations. But she concentrated on tamping down the thrilling flutter that rose when she remembered she and Benton shared a name. She had no right to be excited about it. This was nothing more than a business arrangement much like the one Ashlyn and Deacon had started with. Only, she wasn’t foolish enough to believe she and Benton would fall in love.
As they slid into the back of the car, her expression must have registered her thoughts, because Benton asked, “Are you all right? Did that drink upset your stomach?”
“I’m fine, thank you. I think maybe the flight...” She tried, scrambling for any excuse but the truth.
“There is a time zone difference. Almost like we went back in time,” Benton added, amusement coloring his tone.
“I don’t think I’ll get used to that.”
“You have a whole week.”
Her head swiveled around quickly. “A week? I can’t take a week off from work!”
“Well, the plane isn’t coming back for you anytime sooner, so you might as well enjoy it.”
“I don’t know how you can be so calm about this,” she muttered, folding her arms under her breasts.
“I can’t see the point in not being calm. I can’t change the outcome. I think you’re the only woman I’ve met that resists the thought of being pampered for an entire week in favor of work.”
She jerked her chin up, struggling not to blush. “I’m practical, is all.”
Benton made a sound of agreement or otherwise, she couldn’t tell. She chose to remain silent the remainder of the ride, watching the scenery out the window. It was beautiful here, in a wild, almost untamed way that Seattle could never claim. There was so much green, so much more colorfully dressed people than the mundane buildings of the city and their suited occupants.
Eventually, the car pulled up in front of the Mauni Lani Bay Hotel. If her jaw dropped, she couldn’t help it. The place was massive and gorgeous and beyond anything she had ever claimed staying at. The driver took their bags again and ushered them inside. The woman at the front desk smiled brightly, informing them that they were staying in a private bungalow near the water and that a cart would be along soon to collect them.
“A bungalow?” Andrea echoed, unable to conjure up what such a place must look like, much less cost.
“Come along Cinderella,” Benton teased, as a cart pulled up out front. He tipped the driver of the car and the man touched his hat in thanks before leaving them to the mercy of the hotel.
The outside was comfortably warm, bringing scents both unfamiliar and pleasing. She knew she must have looked every inch the tourist as the cart traversed the property. But she couldn’t bring herself to mind so much. The reality of where they were settled in and she couldn’t contain her joy anymore.
The bungalow proved to be more like a small house with its own pool and sauna. The front was open and inviting, leading onto a deck directly from the living room, but also having curtains if privacy was needed. The cart driver took their bags in for them and she spun in slow circles, feeling much like a giddy child in a toy store given their choice of whatever they wanted.
Beautiful browns and reds adorned the walls and furniture. She ran her hand across a settee, imagining laying on its plush fabric and reading or napping. The couch and matching chairs looked just as comfortable. The place was so clean it was almost as if no one else had ever set foot inside.
It was only after she turned back toward the opening that she realized she and Benton were alone. And that he was standing, staring at her with a mixture of amusement and something close to fondness. She didn’t want that from him. How could she continue to keep her distance when he was making it so difficult all the sudden?
Biting her lip, reminding herself of her stance on their relationship, she quickly grabbed her bags. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to shower and freshen up.”
He gestured to the hall that she assumed lead to the bedroom. “By all means.”
It wasn’t until she found the bedroom, that she realized there was only one bed and one bathroom; a spacious, tiled bathroom with an open shower and an enormous tub fit for a party of at least four. An image rose immediately, unbidden of Benton without his clothing, lounging in the bathtub. She could see herself joining him and...
“Stop it!”
“Are you all right in there? Who are you talking to?” Benton’s voice echoed from the living room.
“Uh, fine. Nothing.”
Grabbing the first blouse, shorts and undergarments she could find in her suitcase, she rushed into the bathroom and shut the door. She stood before it for a few seconds before deciding she should lock it. Not that she thought for a moment that Benton would force himself on her. Only that if he caught her naked and vulnerable, she might jump him.
“This is going to be a long week,” she told her reflection, before stripping and stepping under the glorious, spa-like shower head.
It would have been luxurious to take a long shower, but she knew Benton needed one too and she didn’t want to be greedy or rude. They traded places with little words to one another. She wanted as far from the bathroom as she could while he was in it. So, she wandered onto the patio and wondered how they were going to share a bed. Neither couch looked big enough for either of them. They were more like loveseats.
Dropping down to her knees beside the pool, she trailed her fingers in the balmy water. “Be a big girl about this. You’re both adults. You can manage to share a bed without...” She stopped, not wanting to put words to the thought.
“Are you talking to yourself again?”
Swallowing a scream, she jumped up and found Benton in the entryway, wearing only a pair of cargo shorts and drying
his hair with a towel. Why did the man have to look so mouth-watering good?
“Did you even shower?” She blurted, irritated at him for sneaking up on her.
“I’m not a girl,” was all he said in response.
The Proposal Page 17