The Proposal

by Jennifer Lewis

  She lifted her chin. “You never asked.”

  “Would you tell me?”

  She contemplated his words. “Maybe not.”

  He laughed. “I can’t win, can I?”

  She stepped closer, pressing herself to him. “Maybe you can.”

  He leaned down. “If I tried to follow your logic, I’d be dizzy as hell.”

  Unable to help it, she smiled. “You like it.”

  His lips ghosted hers. “Maybe.”

  “I should be mad.”

  “Why? Because I want to keep you safe? Because I want you?”

  Closing her eyes, she let the words sink in and felt the first chill of the night air. Or maybe it was him.

  “Will this last?”

  “How can I know?” He paused. “Do you want it to?”

  She opened her eyes. “I don’t know.”

  “You are damned frustrating.”

  Her fingers tightened on his shirt. “I’m scared.”

  Benton stroked a hand down her back. “And you think I’m not?”

  Surprise arched through her. “But you... You’ve faced death and lived.”

  “Woman, that was far easier than you.”

  She blinked, not sure how to take that proclamation.

  “Why does everything need an explanation?”

  “Says the man who plans for everything.”

  He smiled again. “Guess you got me there.”

  Drifting in, she pressed her cheek to his chest. She liked the warmth and she liked the sound of his heart in her ear. It was solid, like him, and dependable in a way she craved. Coming from steady parents, she didn’t know why she worried so much about life and letting herself relinquish control. But she did. Maybe she didn’t make sense at all like Benton said.

  The wind shifted, bringing with it the salty air from the ocean mingled with the gentle heat of the night. She closed her eyes and let it tangle in her hair, lifting it from the nape of her neck so that the breeze tickled like the tips of Benton’s fingertips. In quiet moments like these, with nothing between them, she felt as if everything could be settled by a few words. Real life remained beyond their reach and nothing could touch them.

  The first drop of rain hit her bare arm. She wanted to be startled, but she knew even Hawaii had rain in December. Grasping Benton’s hand, she urged them to head back to the bungalow. By the time they reached it, the damp permeated their clothing. When he pulled her inside, shutting the door and pulled her dress from her, she felt the wet against his lips.

  The heat from his body stilled the chill in hers, and she snuggled into him, absorbing the warmth and reveling in the feel of his skin against her own. She wished the man wasn’t so tempting. She felt like a teenager discovering sex for the first time; with him, she couldn’t get enough.

  Leaving most of their clothing on the floor, he pulled her to the bedroom. After removing the rest of their clothing, he grabbed a towel. Settling her between his legs on the bed, he began to dry her hair. The motions comforted, and she found herself drifting, lulled by the gentle swipes of his hands. When he laid her down on the bed, she let him surround her with his arms.

  The lingering effects of the alcohol tugged at her senses, making her realize how tired she had become. Like struggling to surface above water, she fought the draining emotions. As if sensing her battle, he stroked a hand down her back and began making soothing circles.

  “Benton...”

  “Go to sleep.”

  She shoved at his shoulder. “You’re bossy.”

  He kept at his ministrations. “Hm.”

  Limbs growing heavier with each brush of his fingers, she gave into the need to close her eyes. Surrounded by the scent and feel of him, she allowed herself to relax and drifted away.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Benton caught Andrea staring out the glass, chin resting in hand. Eyes straying to see what she saw, he watched the streaks of clouds and the occasional birds. She seemed preoccupied, and he couldn’t begin to imagine what she thought. He didn’t know if she felt regret for the week or wondered what the hell she was doing, marrying him. For all he knew, she was contemplating that asshole Brad.

  Glancing down at his phone, his eyes scanned the rest of Ryan’s text. Traces of Brad’s whereabouts revealed a few stores in an airport and a car rental hours later. Andrea hadn’t imagined things. The bastard followed her to Hawaii and then did nothing the entire time, like he was taunting Benton, knowing the other man believed but couldn’t prove a damn thing. His fingers itched to grab a hold of the skinny man’s neck and squeeze the light out of his eyes.

  Shifting, telling himself to relax before he imploded the plane, Benton distracted himself. “What’s so interesting out there?”

  Andrea started. “Hm?” Blinking, she added, “Oh, nothing. I was just thinking.”

  Feeling the familiar insecurity trickle in, Benton wrestled irritation over the thought and murmured, “Brad?”

  She sat up straighter, looking worried or guilty, he couldn’t tell. He immediately regretted saying the man’s name.

  “I just... If he really was there...”

  “Relax. Ryan’s looking into it.”

  She folded her hands in her lap. “What did he find?”

  Benton sighed, pulling his hand down his chin, rough with stubble. “That’d he’d checked into an airport and rented a car.”

  Andrea remained largely silent for a moment, before nodding. “Oh.”

  Rising, he walked over to where she sat. Kneeling, he took her knees into his hands. “He isn’t going to bother you. We’re keeping a close eye on him.”

  She shook her head. “I just don’t understand why he won’t go away. Unless...” She explained the embezzlement investigations. “So, I can see why.”

  He squeezed, liking the quiver of her legs under his touch. “It doesn’t occur to you, that you wounded the psychopath’s pride? That he didn’t get you and he’s damn pissed?”

  Her cheeks heated. “I don’t care if I did do that.”

  “Good for you. But the reasons don’t matter. He isn’t going to stop until he gets what he wants.”

  Wrapping her fingers around her shoulders, she shivered. “I still think... there’s something wrong with him.”

  Rising, Benton settled into the chair next to her, taking her with him. “Obviously, love.”

  Though reluctantly, her arms went around his shoulders, staring up at him with clouded, troubled blue eyes. He didn’t know what put it there; him or her worry over the accountant. Either way, he didn’t like it.

  He rubbed his hand along her spine. “Don’t worry about that guy. I’ll break his neck before I let him touch you.”

  “Benton.”

  He shrugged. “You know what kind of man I am.”

  Pressing her cheek to his chest, he felt hers rise and fall. “I know. Sometimes it scares me. Sometimes it makes me feel safe.”

  He couldn’t say why he liked that. Maybe like all men, he wanted to protect what was his. Deacon, even in how own way, did the same for Ashlyn. Maybe one fought with his fists, the other his brain, but the hell if he would change that. Whether she knew it or not, she was his. He didn’t intend to tell her, but he didn’t intend to treat her any different.

  “You didn’t sleep very well last night.” He changed the subject.

  She tilted her head back. “It’s been a full week.”

  For many reasons.

  “You had a good time?”

  Andrea nodded. “Yes.”

  “Then it was a good thing, of Deacon and Mrs. Cross.”

  She giggled.

  He frowned. “What?”

  “You should call her Ashlyn.”

  “Like you call Mr. Cross, Deacon?”

  She shoved him. “Point taken.”

  The mirth shimmering in her eyes sucked him in. Benton brushed his thumb across her cheek, pulling it down the fullness of her lips. He felt her breath catch and responded quicker than he wanted
to admit.

  “Yeah.”

  Leaning down, he rubbed his lips on hers. She shifted, rising up with her body. Like a charmer to a snake, he felt her draw to him. With barely a sign, he knew that, whatever she wanted to believe, she felt the same sense of belonging he did. It gripped him in the same vice, making it hard to breathe and focus. What the hell had he gotten himself into?

  Her slender arms tightened, lips seeking his. He gave in and pulled at her soft mouth, sinking deeper to savor her. She sighed into his, becoming pliant under his hands. If it weren’t for the stewardess in the back of the plane, me might do more than stroke and drink her in with his eyes. He knew what lay underneath, and more than anything else in this moment, he wanted to strip her and remember what last night felt like.

  “Benton.” She pulled back.

  He rubbed his chin on the top of her head.

  “You’re confusing.”

  He paused, digesting her words. “What am I confusing about?” He thought he was being pretty plain, himself.

  “First, you act like I’m not even alive, and now you can’t seem to get enough of me.”

  Women amused him. For all they claimed to know, they didn’t see half of what they thought they saw. “Lady, I knew every damn move you made. From the sway of that ass, to the color of your eyes when you’re mad. If I could’ve got my hands on you a long time ago, I sure as hell wouldn’t have hesitated.”

  “You could have.” She answered quietly.

  “And torment myself? Now that I’ve got you, you think that makes it any easier?”

  Drawing back, she focused intently on him. Those eyes looked like one-way mirrors of glass, reflecting only his own thoughts.

  “I don’t understand you.”

  Unable to help himself, he laughed. “Honey, that makes two of us.”

  She slapped his shoulder. “Just because I say you’re confusing, doesn’t mean I’m talking about me.”

  “Who said I was talking about you?”

  “I’m not sure if I was just insulted or not.”

  Benton grinned. “You’ll find one way or another to determine I did.”

  “Don’t be sexist.” She twisted on his lap, pulling away.

  His hands held her waist fast. “Now don’t tell me that’s not what you’re thinking.”

  Jerking back gently, she stuck her tongue out at him.

  Eyebrow arching, he grinned again. “Oh, really?”

  Andrea only stared at him.

  “I don’t think you’re looking as threatening as you want to. That little, pink tongue just makes me want to take a big bite of you.”

  Coloring, she twisted a little further. “Stop having fun at my expense.”

  “But it’s fun.”

  Dropping her forehead to his shoulder, she sighed. “You are impossible.”

  Smiling, knowing she couldn’t see it, he rubbed her back again. “Yeah.”

  During the flight, Andrea slept off and on. Sometimes she read, sometimes she talked to him. Benton couldn’t sleep. Every time he tried, he found his eyes straying to her. It rubbed at him, that she had this hold on him. Other than the Army, nothing ever jerked him around by his balls like she did. Most of his life, Benton did what he wanted and when he wanted. He didn’t find it necessary to cause trouble, but neither did he back down from it.

  It bothered him, knowing Brad followed Andrea. His father lurked in the corner of his mind as well, reminding him that Jack’s dilemma was far from over. The man would be back, one way or another. And if he found him near Andrea again, he would do the job for his father’s loan sharks.

  When they arrived back in Seattle, the dreary, gray skies met them. So did Ryan, the blonde man’s easy smile greeting them before Benton’s eyes slid to Ashlyn beside him. The equally blonde wife of his boss hugged Andrea when the red-head reached her. The two of them bonded over Ashlyn’s growing belly and the weather in Hawaii.

  Ryan slung a thumb over his shoulder. “Ashlyn wanted to go with. I was going to leave her with the new guy, but she insisted.”

  “Yeah, how’s he working out?”

  His friend shrugged. “Sam? It’s his first week. So far, he seems good. Wish I could’ve talked one of the other guys into it.”

  “A lot of them have families, Ryan.”

  “I know.” Motioning for Benton to follow, Ryan added, “C’mon. Let’s get the bags.”

  “We came back with more than we left with.”

  “Well, yeah. You went with a woman.”

  Considering that what Ryan said held infinite wisdom, Benton followed. They loaded the luggage, and the ladies into the car. It proved easier to load the bags; extricating two chattering women who haven’t seen one another for a week, proved difficult.

  He buckled Andrea in. “You two act like you haven’t seen each other for months.”

  “It has been a week.” Ashlyn corrected. “And there’s a lot to talk about.”

  Benton held her gaze. To her credit, Ashlyn let nothing show. He still figured he knew what she talked about.

  Absorbed in each other in the backseat, Benton let the women talk, and turned to Ryan as the other man pulled into traffic. “So, anything else?”

  “I found out where Jack is staying.”

  His eyes went forward.

  “So far, a lot of people have gone in and out of his room,” Ryan added. “No surprise there.”

  “Yeah, what’s new.”

  “Well,” Ryan paused, stopping long enough to wait for the light to turn green. “he had one visitor, someone you might be interested in.”

  “Who?” Benton glanced at his friend again. Ryan’s eyes remained trained on the road.

  “Brad.” The other man said it low, not wanting to disturb the women in the back, no doubt.

  “What in the hell is Brad doing talking to my father?” Anger simmered, ready to strike.

  “That’s what I wondered.” Ryan reached into the glove box and tossed an envelope at Benton. Benton opened them, sifting through pictures. It was Jack and Brad meeting, alright. “I didn’t get any audio. I wasn’t expecting this.”

  Nodding, Benton slipped the photos back into the envelope. Whatever the two of them met over, Benton knew it couldn’t be good. Coincidence was not a word in his vocabulary. One, or the other of them saw some benefit in an alliance. What, he didn’t presently know, but he intended to find out. He might not know exactly where to find Brad yet, but he knew where his father hid.

  “I thought I’d let you deal with that one. Since Ashlyn went with me, I send Sam to find out where Brad’s going.”

  “Not much more I could’ve done than that.”

  Ryan slanted him a glance. “You don’t live in the sand with a man for months without knowing him a little.”

  Flexing his shoulders, knowing the tattoo of his unit flexed with him, he clapped a hand on Ryan’s shoulder and nodded. If anyone, besides Deacon and Alex, he knew Ryan had his back. It was good to have someone at his side who knew, who could look back as he did and assess the situation the same.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The first day home seemed strange. The house was the same; only their relationship changed. It made the spacious home seem like a smaller place. Because they hadn’t talked about it, she put her bags in her single room. Benton noticed, but didn’t say anything. She didn’t know what bothered her more; that he didn’t react or that she did it in the first place. She wanted to be stronger than that; her friends would have been.

  Benton put his things into his room. She met him in the kitchen, spinning a coffee cup. “I’m going to miss Kona coffee.”

  He stopped moving, but she didn’t look at him. “Something wrong?”

  The cup stilled. “You don’t care?”

  Bravely, he approached the bar and sat down. “About what?”

  Andrea pushed hair back from her face. “That I put my things in another room.”

  “That’s your choice.”

  Slamming the ceramic
on the wood, she felt the motion sing up her arm. “You started this. And that’s all you have to say?”

  “I seem to remember you participating.”

  “That’s not the point. Aren’t we going to talk about this? We haven’t said a word to one another about it all week.”