Runaway Groom (14 page)

“We’re thinking of taking a trip.”

Ben appeared on the lake path giving her a wave and a smile. Her already racing heart flipped and her mind blanked, leaving her mother’s statement hanging.

“Amy, are you still there?”

“Um, yes, Mom.
What had her mother been saying?
Talking about her grandson?
“How’s Aiden?”

Ben glanced down at his feet and then bent over to pick up whatever he’d just seen. Amy didn’t even try not to stare. Ben was like an exclusive store window display—beautiful, tempting and out of reach, so watching was all that was available to her.

“Growing fast. You sound distracted, honey. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

Take the chance.
“Sorry, Mom, it’s a little crazy.”

“Okay then, I’ll say goodbye. See you soon.” The line went dead.

Amy stared at her phone slightly discombobulated. Her mother usually never got off the phone without having asked a lot more questions. Questions which would vary around the themes of work, friends and possible men in her life but the one that always got asked without fail was “when are we going to see you next?” Today, her mom hadn’t asked it.

Take it for the win.

Relief trickled through her that she hadn’t been forced to lie again to her mother about why she couldn’t meet her in Chicago or come for Sunday lunch in Bloomington, where her parents lived. Where she’d grown up. She was about to slide her phone into her pocket when she noticed Ben and his drop bear T-shirt had disappeared from sight.

It reminded her that ever since he’d first told her about drop bears, she’d been going to look them up. Bringing up a browser on her phone, she typed
drop bears
into the search engine and clicked on the first suggestion. The Australian Museum page opened with a brief introduction and the following general information was much the same as Ben had told her.

As she continued scrolling, she came across a distribution map that showed in red where in Australia drop bears could be found. There was almost continuous red coloring up the eastern seaboard and then, in the middle of the map of Australia, which she knew was desert, there was a combination of red-and-white splotches. She looked at it twice before she recognized the configuration of colors formed the shape of a koala’s head.

She half laughed and half moaned. There was no way this distribution map was real and she didn’t need to continue reading the information that said Vegemite smeared behind the ears or the wearing of a fork in the hair might help ward off drop bears to know that they didn’t exist. Ben had scammed her.

Her and no doubt a bunch of other easy-to-fool Americans.

Oh
,
God.
She’d asked all sorts of questions and the whole time he’d been yanking her chain, telling her the Aussie version of a tall tale like Paul Bunyan. She blushed at her gullibility. She was a lawyer for heaven’s sake—she should have spotted his game.

Why?
It didn’t stop you missing what Jonathon was up to.
He got you and your job.

The half-formed scab over that particular wound peeled back fast. She waited for the protective balm of anger and regret to hit her in the exact same way it did whenever she thought about how she’d allowed Jonathon to undermine her. Ben had tricked her, damn it.

Only anger didn’t come—just a dribble of self-righteous embarrassment. She dug deep, wanting to be furious with him but all she found was laughter at herself. Unlike Jonathon, this was a bit of harmless fun.

Fun.
It had been a long time since she’d behaved like a child and had fun. Maybe it was the fact she was at the lake but she suddenly remembered something she and her sisters had done to an annoying cousin. She grinned as she walked directly to the kitchen. Ben Armytage was toast.

* * *

Ben had been having some geological fun, studying the different rocks around the lake when Amy had texted him with the message,
I’ve made you tea
.

He smiled and two minutes later walked into the kitchen to find her with two steaming mugs on the counter. A pen was stuck in her chaotic hair, held in place by a tight curl. Amy still hadn’t gone clothes shopping and today she was wearing shorts that were covered in white fluff and the button-up blouse she’d worn with her business suit the day she’d taken him to the E.R. He instantly noticed that she’d left the top two buttons undone. Sadly, despite his best efforts, he couldn’t see even a hint of creamy breast. He’d gotten used to her zany, mismatched clothes but today she looked different. He tilted his head.

“What?” she said, passing him his tea and glancing down at herself. “Am I more of a mess than usual?”

“You’re much the same. Are you planning on doing some clothes shopping?”

She shook her head. “I’m unemployed, remember. Besides, I’m sort of on vacation and I’ve decided it’s fun not having to always be dressed in corporate work clothes.”

And that’s when he worked out why she looked different. For the first time since he’d met her, she looked relaxed.

“So, how’s the...” Why had he even brought up the subject of the damn wedding dress? “...the project coming along?”

She gave a wry smile. “I’m getting close to the scary bit.”

“Everything to do with weddings is scary.”

This time, she studied him and he could see the unasked question hovering brightly in her eyes.
Why did Lexie jilt you?
Even if she asked, he wasn’t prepared to tell her.

She blew a curl out of her eyes. “I’m talking about the moment I cut into the very expensive silk and organza. It’s terrifying.”

He knew what she meant. “It’s like pouring the foundations of a big project. Everything has to be right or the rest—”

“Is a nightmare. Exactly. Although you have far more at stake with the foundations of a bridge or a building than I do with material.”

“But as well as being scary, it’s also exhilarating.”

“It totally is.” She sipped her tea. “Oh, I meant to tell you, while I was working, I was listening to the radio and I heard a news report from Australia.”

“Yeah?” It had to be a mass murder or an election to make the American news services.

She nodded. “A drop bear mauled a man and he’s fighting for his life.”

He scanned her face looking for laughter but her big, gray eyes held only concern. He wondered if the joke had crossed the Pacific on Twitter given it had been picked up by the news. Who was he to ruin a good story?

“It was probably a tourist,” he said, shaking his head in fake despair. “You tell people about the dangers, you put up signs but do they listen?”

“Actually, they said on the radio he was an Australian.”

“I doubt that,” he said firmly. “Avoiding drop bears is the first thing they teach us at school, fast followed by how to ward off croc attacks. The guy must have been drunk. Drop bears can’t stand the smell of booze.”

“You mean rum, right?”

This time he was pretty sure he saw her eyes sparkle. “Especially rum. It makes them go troppo. Sends them into a rage.”

She shivered and brought her hand up to her mouth, biting her knuckle in the exact same way she did when she was anxious. “Stories like this make me glad that we don’t have things that drop out of nowhere here.”

She looked truly relieved so maybe he’d just imagined that she was in on the joke. “Well, you don’t have to worry about me,” he said, grinning. “I know to always look up.”

“I’m glad.” Rinsing out her mug, she placed it in the dishwasher before turning back. “Can you get me some flour out of the pantry, please?”

“Flour?”

She nodded and indicated the sugar and eggs she already had out on the counter. “I thought I’d make you an angel food cake.”

He laughed. “That involves you turning on the oven, Amy. Do you even know how?”

“I’ll have you know that back in the day at summer camp, I learned how to make this one cake, but if you don’t want to try some quintessential American cooking...” She shrugged her shoulders as if he’d just offended her.

He put his hands up in faux surrender. “Sorry to have doubted you. I’ll get you the flour. What sort? Self-raising? Plain?”

She frowned. “Flour is flour.”

“Not where I come from but if you say so.” As he pulled open the pantry door, he thought he heard her counting backward from five.

Poof!
The next minute he was wearing and tasting flour as the white dust settled in his hair, his eyes, his nose, his mouth and everywhere else. “Amy!”

He wheeled around to find her bent over and laughing with tears pouring down her face. “Oh, dear, did something
drop
on you?”

He blew flour out of his mouth. “You think you can tangle with a drop bear expert and live to tell the tale?”

She tossed her curls, her face shining with delight. “Word.”

“Right.” Sliding his arm out of the sling, he reached for her with both hands.

She dodged out of his reach and shot around the counter, her hands gripping the smaller side of the rectangle. He tilted his shoulders left as if he was going to move in that direction and then immediately took off the other way. He caught the back of her blouse as she turned too late, having fallen for the ruse.

“Gotcha.” He pulled her into him, clamping her against him with his good arm and using his fingers to tickle her between the ribs.

Shrieking and gasping, she wriggled against him, trying to get away and in the process rubbing her butt back and forth against his groin. He was hard in a second.
You didn’t think this through.
“Don’t mess with the master.”

“I...give...in,” she spluttered and turned around to face him. Her hands immediately went for his ribs.

“Unlike you,” he said, grinning at her and recommencing his tickling, “I’m not ticklish.”

Squirming and laughing, she said, “If I hurt your arm it’s not my fault.”

“It’s all good and I can do this all day.” He dug his fingers in a bit harder and she squealed. “Are you ready to plea bargain, Counselor?”

“Never.” She whipped her hand up to his armpit.

He slammed his arm down hard against it, trapping it and then he caught her other hand with his. Shaking his head slowly back and forth, he made flour rain down on her. “I do believe you’re trapped.”

Her eyes sparkled silver like water in sunshine, her cheeks glowed pink and her plump, kissable lips taunted him. So did the touch of her panting chest as her breasts rose and fell against him. All the strain that had dogged her since he met her had vanished. She looked happy.

And sexy. Undeniably sexy.

He lifted her hand that he held to his mouth and kissed the tip of her middle finger. Then he sucked it into his mouth.

Her eyes widened so much he could have tumbled into them. God, she was amazing. Forget friendship, he wanted to taste her, touch her; hell, he wanted her.

He lowered his mouth and kissed her gently. She tasted of peppermint tea and the freshness drove through him, urging him on. He pressed kisses along her top and bottom lip and then traced their outline with his tongue. She sighed against his mouth and then opened hers, allowing him in.

He fell into heaven as her flavor and heat rushed him. He explored her mouth slowly, with long, wondrous strokes of his tongue, not wanting to miss any part of this cavern of delight. She allowed him total control, which he willingly took and when she made a mewling sound in her throat, his blood ran so hot, he thought he might explode on the spot. As much as he loved driving the kiss, now he wanted more. He flicked his tongue against hers, urging her to enter the kiss.

Pressing against him, her body molded to his as if they’d been designed to fit and she raised her arms up around the back of his neck. She cautiously deepened the kiss.

Her hesitancy burned him. He was the cause of her uncertainty, having pulled away from her last time. He didn’t want to pull away this time and he wanted her to know that. He stepped her toward the counter until her hips rested against it and then he pushed his left hand gently under her blouse. Running his fingertips along her spine, he savored the amazing feeling of her warm, soft skin until he reached the clasp on her bra. Had he been able to use his right arm, he would have had the bra undone in a second but it took him two flicks with his left hand to unhook it. Warm, round, heavy flesh filled his palm.
Oh
,
yeah.

He brushed her erect nipple with his thumb and she gasped, sagging against him. He staggered slightly, widening his stance to hold her, loving how responsive she was. Breaking the kiss for a moment, he turned her around so he now had the support of the counter. “As much as I want to be spontaneous and have sex on the kitchen counter or up against the wall, I can’t do it. Doctor’s orders.”

She gazed up at him with a jumbled array of emotions in her expressive eyes. “I understand.”

Something about the way she said it sent a shiver through him. “I’m talking about us having sex in a bed, Amy. What are you talking about?”

She bit her knuckle and he captured her hand again, pulling it away from her mouth. “What is it?”

She sucked in a long breath. “Are you really sure you want to have sex with me?” she said, her words tumbling over themselves. “It’s just I’d rather you stop now before you freak out on me again because I’m not Lexie.”

He tried not to flinch at all the memories that name evoked. “It’s wonderful that you’re not Lexie or anything like her.”

“Still...” All the tension that so often cloaked her had returned.

He stroked her cheek. “Tell me what you’re worried about?”

“That you’ll regret it because I’m not very good at any of this.”

He thought of how she’d just kissed him. “Believe me, Amy, you’re more than good.”

Two worry lines scored the bridge of her nose. “Others would disagree.”

A surge of anger for the faceless men who’d preceded him made him pull her even closer and kiss her hard. “Amy, do you want to have sex with me in one of the many beds in this house, right now?”