An Irresistible Impulse (11 page)

Side by side, they descended the stairs. Though Abby felt relieved to be freed from such close quarters, the absence of others even here was a startling fact. She’d half hoped for a swarm of chaperones. “Where is everyone?” she asked, seeing only the desk
clerk in the lobby and a guard in the living room.

“It’s after ten. That’s past many a juror’s bedtime,” Ben jibed lightly. “Come. Let’s go out here.” Taking her hand before she could protest, he nodded politely to the guard and headed toward the front porch.

“Who was
he?
” Abby whispered as Ben opened the door for her.

“A new one, I guess. Poor guy’s got night duty…and on the weekend, no less. Of course, so do we, for that matter…. Say, will you be warm enough? I could run back up for a sweater.”

She shook her head. “I’m fine. It’s sheltered here.”

Ben led her to the far end of the veranda where a large wooden swing stood invitingly. It was lit by only the palest of light that filtered out from the inn. “This is nice,” he mused, taking a deep, chest-expanding breath, “the fresh air.”

“Different from the city, hmmmm?” She recalled those more hectic urban days of her life. “Where were you, Ben?”

He let himself down into the corner opposite that in which she’d settled. Each was angled toward the other, Abby with her legs tucked beneath her, Ben with his crossed at the knee, one foot controlling a gentle rocking of the swing.

“Washington. I did my graduate work at Georgetown and then taught for several years at American.”

“Whew! You certainly picked the city for political science.”

He shrugged his indifference.

“You don’t think so?” she asked, surprised.

“I think that there’s as much to teach and study and think about up here. I’m not unhappy I made the move.”

Too late she realized that Washington must have been the scene of his personal tragedy. But Ben read her stricken expression and quickly corrected her misconception.

“No. We met when we were students at the University of Wisconsin. While we were married, we lived in Madison.”

“I’m sorry, Ben. I seem to keep reminding you of that.”

“You do,” he agreed, but rather than anger or annoyance there was puzzlement in his tone. He quickly shook it off. “But that’s another matter. You had something you wanted to ask me.”

Something she wanted to ask him? For a minute, she struggled to recall just what it was. Then she laughed at herself. “You’ve done this more than once, Ben Wyeth. You have this way of distracting me until I nearly forget whatever was on my mind.”

“We were talking about Alexandra.”

“Now I remember.” She tucked her arms around her and eyed him in confusion. “You surprise me, Ben. Most men would avoid the issue. You’ve brought it right back.”

“I want you to know about her. There’s nothing to hide. You were asking about promises, I believe?” He got quickly to the point.

“That’s right. I wondered what kind of…arrangement you had with her.”

Comfortably resting his arm against the back of the swing, he chuckled. “Arrangement?” He cleared his throat. “Our arrangement is a strictly dead-ended one. I’ve told her that many times.”

“But she won’t accept it?” How familiar it sounded.

“Nope.”

“And what
does
she want?”

“Marriage.” The word hit the air with a dagger-sharp edge to it, made so by the thinning of his lips.

“And you
don’t
want marriage?” she returned more softly.

“No.”

“Ever?”
the devil made her ask.

Even the dark couldn’t shroud his sudden intensity. “I’ve already been married. Maybe I’ve…gotten it out of my system.”

Again…the past. Abby wanted to reach out to him, to tell him it could all be different.
But who was
she
to make promises? She’d never lived through his pain.

“You’ve told Alexandra as bluntly that you won’t marry again?”

“Oh, yes. She knows I won’t marry her. But like Sean, she insists on carrying that last shred of hope.”

The night’s silence was broken only by the muted hoot of a distant barn owl. When Abby finally chuckled, she could have sworn Ben did as well. “The similarities are really funny when you stop to think about them,” she began lightly. “Between my Sean and your Alexandra, we’ve got ourselves a pair of lonely hearts. Maybe, if we’re lucky, we can get the two of them together. How would she feel about a doctor?”

“Mmmm…I don’t know,” Ben quipped. “I suppose a doctor’s all right. She
is
partial to professionals. But what does this Sean of yours look like?” His voice deepened in self-mockery. “After all, Alexandra won’t settle for a man unless he’s tall, dark, and handsome.”

Abby had the perfect antidote to Ben’s tongue-in-cheek arrogance. “Then it might be a perfect match!” she exclaimed. “Sean is the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. He’s gorgeous!”

Her ploy had worked; Ben was less than thrilled. “That’s just fine. But does he like
blondes? Slim, willowy ones?” Revenge took silky forms; he deliberately drew out each word.

“I hate her already. What’s a slim, willowy blonde doing getting a Ph.D. in political science? Is she really dedicated?”

“Yup.”

“And,” she scrunched up her face, “
really
pretty?”

“Yup.”

“Oh.”

Ben regarded her quiet attempt to be nonchalant about it all. Then without warning he reached out and hauled her to his side.

“What are you
doing?
” she gave a loud whisper. “You said we’d
talk!
”

“We will. I just want you to be comfortable.” He’d deftly fitted her under his arm and pressed her head to his shoulder. His hand stayed there for safekeeping. “And I want to remind you that it’s
you
I want, not Alexandra.”

“Uh-oh. That again?” she murmured without denying how comfortable she truly was.

“Yes, Abby. That again. Now that we’ve established that neither of us has other ties, what’s to keep us apart?”

“What’s to—” She started to raise her head, but Ben’s hand brought it right back. “Try the unreality of this whole situation. How about
that?
”

“Is this unreal?” he asked, stroking the sensitive cord along the side of her neck and gently turning her face up to his. Even in the dark, his eyes held her spellbound. “Or this?” His lips touched hers lightly, sending ripples of excitement through her entire body. “Hmmmm?” he murmured mischievously. His fingers feathered the outer swell of her breast in their bid for a more comfortable hold of her arm.

Abby mustered what little strength he’d left her to put her hand against his lips. They were warm and strong, unfairly inviting. “I feel it, Ben. You know that,” she gasped. “But I still can’t shake the idea that it’s being thrown together like this…that’s causing the attraction.” An image of Patsy, running from a man in shadow, flitted through her mind. “Captivity…isolation…close quarters do things to people.”

“Do you feel anything special for Tom?”

She pulled her head back. “Tom? Tom Herrick? No!”

“How about Richard? Any stirrings when he’s around?”

“Of course not!”

“There! It’s not just the setting. It’s
me. Us
. Damn it, Abby,” he moaned in frustration, “you’re grasping at straws. You’d respond to my touch whether we were in New York or
Washington or…or Madison, Wisconsin. It
exists
. It’s
real
. What’s the problem?”

His arms had tightened, gently imprisoning her. She felt the warmth of his breath against her brow and wanted nothing more than to melt into him. But she was frightened. “The problem is
me
. I didn’t expect this. I’m not ready to accept it.”

Ben stared down at her, his voice dangerously calm. “And I’m not ready to accept that. So where does it leave us?”

She tried to wedge a space between them but she only ended up with her palm spread flat across his chest. “Hung jury?” she offered meekly. She half-wished he’d laugh…but he didn’t.

“Not quite,” he declared. “It looks like we’ll just have to run through the evidence one more time.”

It took her a minute to understand. Even then it was the quickening of his heartbeat that gave him away, an uneven thud beneath her fingertips. When she started to shake her head slowly, he captured her chin and held her still.

“It would be beautiful, Abby,” he crooned. She shut her eyes beneath the sweet torture of lips that touched each in turn.

Beautiful. As opposed to crude? Once more she was locked into the dilemma. “But
it’d be…only temporary,” she argued, catching her breath when she felt his tongue by her ear. “It’d be…giving in to an impulse that…scares me.”

“There’s no need to be frightened. I’m here with you.” His voice was deep and husky, a stimulant in itself. Then his mouth found hers again and caressed it with such gentle care that she gave herself up to his keeping, if only for the moment. It seemed unfair to deny herself this simple pleasure. After all, he was just kissing her….

But there were kisses…and there were kisses. Ben’s kisses went beyond even
those
, sweeping Abby into a realm of pure ecstasy where time lost its meaning.

If only they had been able to go back to the beginning, to start from scratch with each and every kiss. But it didn’t work that way. Anything that had come before…that day, the days prior to it…now added to the flame. They devoured one another hungrily.

Abby felt her whole body come to life. A slow sizzle worked its way through her veins, making her forget all reality but this man and his magnificence. Unknowingly, she slid her arms around his neck and arched against him.

His hands easily accommodated her, tracing her curves from thigh to hip to breast in eager exploration. And she gave him ready
access, craving more with each passing second.

“Ben…” she sighed her exhilaration against the manly shadow of his beard.

“Feel nice?”

“Mmmmm.” She felt as if she were drunk.

“See how this is,” he whispered, easing her back just enough to unbutton her blouse and shower kisses on her neck and throat. When his lips touched the top swell of her breast, she sucked her breath in sharply.

Eyes closed, lost in sensation, she whispered his name again. She felt his hands on her breasts, stroking them softly, his thumbs circling each nipple, creating peaks without touching. But she wanted him to touch. “Please…!” she cried softly.

This
was one of the things that had been missing with Sean, this mind-numbing whirl of sensual pleasure. For that matter, she’d never
before
known this yearning to be totally devoured by another. But she knew it now and she urged Ben closer.

His fingers slid lower gently to draw back the gossamer cup of her bra until her naked breast filled his hand. Even the darkness couldn’t dull the creamy sheen of her firm, rounded flesh.

“You’re so very, very beautiful,” he rasped softly. She opened her eyes and met his admiring gaze. While he stared at her, he circled
her breast again, sampling its smoothness until she felt her insides begin to burn with frustration.

“Please, Ben…touch me…” she begged in a nearly inaudible whisper.

“Like this?” he asked, fascinated by her rapt expression when he took her tautened nipple between his fingers and rolled it gently from side to side.

“That’s right. Oh, yes,” she gasped. “That’s right….”

“And this?” Lowering his head, his tongue replaced his fingers, tormenting that turgid bud with its moistness until she cried out again. The knot deep in her belly had grown painful. There was only one way to ease it.

Ben’s hand slid down her body, returning by the inside of her thigh and lingering to stroke that spot from which fulfillment would have to come. Abby gave a helpless moan and moved against his hand. Then, too soon, it was gone.

“Oh…babe…what is it you want?” he groaned, his voice thick with arousal. The faint tremor of his hands as they framed her face attested to the force of his own flaring need and the price he paid to control it. “Do you know now, Abby? What do
you
want?” It was the same question he’d greeted her with earlier. Then she’d been in doubt. No longer so.

“Love me, Ben,” she cried, opening her eyes with the plea. “Please love me!”

Raw emotion had seized control of her. The moment was one of wild desire. It was only when Ben’s body grew taut beneath her hands that she even realized what she’d said.

By then, though, it was too late. The damage had been done.

She couldn’t know that silence hid the pain that would have been in his voice, that darkness hid the extent of the sorrow in his eyes. Yet, heart pounding, she did know of his withdrawal. His body seemed that of a stranger.

When he allowed a small space to come between them, the last of the spark fizzled and died. She sat, overwhelmed and unable to move, while hands suddenly cool and clinical
repaired the havoc they’d wreaked with her clothing. Then he stared at her grimly.

“Love me,” she’d asked what seemed an age ago. Now his answer was blunt.

“I can’t do that, Abby,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.” The hardness of his tone belied the apology, as did the seeming absence of all feeling in him. His withdrawal was emotional as well as physical, and hence twice as hurtful.

Abby felt suddenly violated. Cringing further back toward her corner, she hugged herself protectively. Her breath came in ragged gasps. “Wh-what?” she whispered, devastated.

“That’s the one thing I can never do. Anything else—”

“But you’ve been arguing—”

“I’ll
make
love to you,” he interrupted curtly. “There’s a difference.…A critical one.” He first sat forward then rose to stand taut and straight. Only the deep breath he took showed any sign of feeling. If there was regret, it was deeply buried in fatigue. “Perhaps you’re right. You
do
need time. If you decide you can accept what I have to offer, I’ll be here.”

In a state of shock, Abby watched him return alone the way they’d come together. The night swallowed him quickly. Only the
harsh closing swing of the front door betrayed his destination.

Then there was silence, abrupt and total. Gone were the sounds of pleasure, the gasps and whispers and soft moans that had been so recently. Even the owl was silent. There was only the melancholy creak of the veranda swing as it recovered from Ben’s abrupt departure.

Bewilderment held Abby immobile. Then, when the haze of raw emotion finally began to lift, she understood. “Love me, Ben,” she’d cried.

Love! She’d meant it figuratively; he’d taken it literally. But there was no confusion as to his vow, not the slightest chance of a misunderstanding. The one thing he wouldn’t do was to give her his love.

But then…she didn’t want that! She and Ben were simply two people thrown together in a situation of mutual attraction. Nothing more. She had no more desire to fall in love than he had. After all, she had her job, her house, her friends….

Why, then, she asked herself, as she idly swung back and forth, had she begged Ben to make love to her? Had she simply been driven by the force of an awesome physical attraction…or was there something more?

Refusing to consider the alternatives, she hastily rose and retraced her steps along the
veranda and back into the inn, where the scene was much as she’d found it on the way out. This time, though, it was she who nodded in passing to the guard. There seemed no one else about.

Relieved that Ben must have gone upstairs, she took that route herself. But was she relieved? Or disappointed? Had one small part of her hoped he’d have softened and returned to find her?

Head down, she ran quietly up the stairs, slowing her steps only at the third-floor landing. Ben was there, in his room right next to hers. Was he listening for her? Was he aware of the hurt, the…abandonment she felt? Or was he so lost in his self-imposed lovelessness that he couldn’t feel for others?

Somehow, try as she might, she couldn’t believe that possible. Everything she’d learned about Ben Wyeth had pointed to a man whose warmth was genuine. And she refused to believe that his feelings toward her were purely physical!

As silently as possible, so as not to disturb that one particular neighbor, she let herself into her room. He was afraid! That had to be it! Afraid! The more she pondered it, the more sense it made. Here was a man who’d been tragically hurt once when the wife he’d loved had been abruptly taken from him.
He’d talked of disillusionment and pain. How fitting that he’d try to protect himself for the future.

Fitting…and tragic in itself. For Ben Wyeth was a man to be loved wholeheartedly, and he was a man to give likewise in return.
That
Abby knew with her mind as well as her heart, though she was at a total loss as to what to do with the knowledge.

Frustrated and downhearted, she showered, then climbed into bed with her book. What had he said…that some Saturday nights he’d pick up a good book and read until all hours of the night? It seemed to Abby the only remedy for this night, when she knew that sleep would elude her. And Sunday mornings…they were good for sleeping late….

Even then, she felt unusually lazy. And the heavily overcast skies were uninspiring. On a whim, she phoned the front desk to see if she might have muffins and tea sent up. When the response was an accommodating affirmative, she slid back down beneath the
covers to indulge in several moments’ idleness.

It seemed she’d no more than drawn up the quilt when she heard a soft knock at the door. Room service? So quickly? Jumping up, she threw on her robe. “Coming!”

“Abby…it’s me,” came Patsy’s timid voice, and not room service at all.

Abby quickly opened the door. “Patsy! Come on in.”

“I’m not disturbing you then?” the blonde asked, taking in the unmade bed and Abby’s bathrobe at a glance. “I mean,” she whispered with a grimace, “you’re alone, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am! And you’re certainly not disturbing me. I woke up a little while ago. The desk said they’d send up some break-fast. Shall I call and have them add something for you?” The thought of talking with ever-cheerful Patsy was a refreshing one.

Patsy tipped her head to the side. “Hmmm, that
does
sound nice. I’ve just come from breakfast, but I’d love a second cup…if you’re sure you don’t mind the company….”

If her friend was unduly hesitant, Abby attributed it to her own newly arisen state. In fact, she usually did prefer solitude in the morning. This day, though, was an exception. “I’d love the company. What’ll it be?”

With a cup of coffee added to the order, Abby propped herself against the headboard of the bed while Patsy settled at its foot. “I got worried,” the younger woman began, “when you didn’t show for breakfast.”

“Oh…I was up late reading, and since there weren’t any automatic wake-up calls this morning, I decided to sleep in.”

“No running today?”

“Nope. It’s a day of rest in every sense.”

Patsy eyed her closely. “You do look tired. Is…is everything all right?” She paused. “I didn’t get to see you when we got back last night.”

The hint of speculation in her voice tipped Abby off; it seemed each woman had cause to wonder about the other. “I’m fine,” Abby said more softly. “It was a…late night, that’s all.”

“He wasn’t at breakfast either, you know. I thought perhaps…that he might be here with you.”

There seemed no point in feigning ignorance. “No, Patsy. We spent a while talking last night, then went our own ways.”

“On…friendly terms?”

Abby’s chuckle held an undertone of sadness. “In a way.”

“Only ‘in a way’? Surely you can do better than that.”

“Aw, Patsy, don’t get your hopes up. Matchmaking isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

“But you two are so perfect for each other.”

Abby frowned. “Not…quite.” She gave each word due emphasis.

Again Patsy grew hesitant. “Want to talk about it?”

Strangely Abby did. “There’s not an awful lot to say.” She shrugged. “You’re right. He’s gorgeous. He’s also very bright and has a great sense of humor.”

“And…?”

“And nothing. We’re attracted to one another but it can’t go anywhere.”

“Whyever not?”

This was the hardest to accept. Abby’s gaze fell to the sheets, and she absently toyed with a linen fold. Finally she bit her lip and looked up. “Because Ben was married once, a long time ago. His wife died in some kind of fluke accident and he’s never gotten over it.”

Patsy’s eyes widened. “You mean that he’s still in love with her?”

“That’s not quite it. And, mind you, I’m only guessing based on what he’s told me. I’m certainly not a psychiatrist.”

“Well…?”

“He suffered terribly when his wife died.
On the surface, he may have conquered the bitterness and pain, but he’s determined never to open himself to it again. He wants nothing to do with love. Anyone who has a relationship with him has to understand and accept that.”

“And what do
you
want?”

The question came upon her so quickly that Abby had to struggle to shift gears from contemplation of Ben’s mind to that of her own. “I’m not sure.” She tried to be honest. “I do feel…something for him.”

“Do you love him?” Patsy asked gently.

“Come on, Patsy. I’ve known him for less than a week!”

“What does
that
have to do with anything? With Bud and me it was love at first sight!”

“Speaking of which…” Abby was about to broach the topic of the man in the shadows at the hunting lodge when a sharp rap came at the door.

Patsy bobbed up instantly. “Here, I’ll get it. You stay put.”

Before Abby could even get her feet to the floor, Patsy had crossed it and opened the door, leaving Abby to wonder whether her speed had been in the hope that it was Ben at the door…or in relief that she’d been temporarily let off the hook. Whichever, it was room service, bringing far more than Abby had even ordered. There were eggs and hash
browns, juice, toast, muffins and croissants, not to mention pots of tea and coffee, all of which Katherine Blayne insisted on leaving.

“Just eat whatever you want,” she said with a smile. “And if there’s anything else—”

“Anything else! You’ve got enough here for three!” Or…one woman and one very hungry man. For an instant Abby wondered if others had speculated on her relationship with Ben. Then she cast the thought aside as being unduly paranoid. “Thanks, though, Katherine,” she finished with a smile to match that of the departing waitress.

When the door closed, Abby and Patsy eyed one another in amusement. “I hope you’re planning to help me with this,” Abby quipped, shifting her gaze to the tray that sat proudly on the bed.

“Uh-uh…I’ve already had something….”

“Then have some more. Come on.” She glanced at her friend from the corner of her eye. “If you help me eat, I promise I won’t ask
you
any questions until…until we’re done.”

Actually, Patsy did have a croissant with her coffee while she and Abby chatted easily about the new ideas Patsy had for some sketches she’d planned to make that afternoon. When the last of the coffee and tea had disappeared, however, Abby returned as promised to the image that had nagged at her.

“Who was he, Patsy…that man at the lodge? Once we got there, you seemed pretty excited…helping in the kitchen and all. And then when we were getting ready to leave, I saw you with him….”

“You saw me, huh?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Patsy grinned in embarrassment. “I was hoping to get away with it.”

“Well, you didn’t, my friend, though I don’t know if any of the others saw. Who was he?”

“He was…working in the kitchen there.”

“And you just…” Abby made a swirling gesture with her hand, “hit it off?”

Patsy shrugged, then nodded, her lips shut tight.

“But what about Bud?” Abby asked, choosing her words with the care of a tightrope walker balanced precariously between curiosity and accusation. “Wouldn’t he be upset to know that you spent time with another man?”

There was a generous dose of love in Patsy’s sheepish smile. “If he learned I’d been with someone else, he’d probably be furious! He’s a very possessive man!”

“So you’ve said,” Abby observed, recalling the very first time she’d spoken with Patsy. Then it had been an issue of Bud’s not taking kindly to the fact of her sequestration;
now it was an even more volatile issue. “What
were
you doing today with that man?” Her near whisper expressed her concern.

Patsy grew serious, then troubled. Looking thoroughly torn, she rose quietly and crossed to the dresser, where she nervously fingered the lace runner. Her voice came softly; she didn’t turn.

“Some rules are made to be broken.”

“I know that,” Abby returned gently, “but aren’t you playing with fire?”

“Yes.”

“You love Bud, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Doesn’t it bother you…hiding things like this?”

When Patsy finally turned, her expression was enigmatic. “Yes, it bothers me…in ways I can’t discuss. And
that
bothers me, too. But I can only tell you that love makes exceptions….” She walked softly back to the bed. “Take you and Ben—”

“We’re talking about
you
.”

“And I’m turning the discussion around to make a point.” Patsy’s smile held an odd poignancy. “I think you’re falling in love with him, and if you are,” she raised her voice and held up a hand when Abby opened her mouth to venture rebuttal, “you should consider accepting him on his terms.”