The Bottom Line (9 page)

“I beg your pardon?” Mallory’s voice was a harsh whisper.

Ben watched the color drain from her face. His fault for being so direct, but he was what he was. After all of Theresa’s stupid manipulative games, he’d approached this new relationship with honesty and openness that some women might not appreciate. He just hoped Mallory wasn’t one of those women.

“Look, Mal… I meant what I said. I want to make you love me.”

“Are—are you saying you… love me?”

He hoped his laugh didn’t come across as condescending. “No. Not yet.”

Her eyes were alight with curiosity. “Then why?”

“Why what? Why would I say something so direct?”

She nodded.

“Because of the kisses.”

“We’re back to that?” she said in a hurt tone. “I’m not sleeping with you just because… well, because…”

“Because of the kisses?”

“Yeah. I’m not like that.”

When he grinned at the indignation in her tone, her eyes became nothing but angry slits.

He held up a hand. “Please don’t get mad. I wasn’t smiling because I disagreed with you. I know you’re not like that. Ever think that’s one of the reasons I went to the mixer to find you and why I took you on a date? I wanted to be with you someplace where I wasn’t your contractor.”

“I have no idea what you think, Ben. I’m starting to realize I don’t know anything about you at all.”

“Ah, but you do,” he countered. “We’ve spent enough time together for you to know a lot about me.”

After a glance down at her plate of fettuccine, she smiled. “Fine. You tell me what you think I already know about you, and I’ll eat this while it’s still hot. Now that I can taste stuff again, I’m not letting something this delicious go uneaten.”

“You couldn’t taste?”

“Nope. Side effect of chemotherapy. Short-term, thankfully. I missed chocolate more than my hair.”

He chuckled, glad to see she was willing to give him a chance and open up a little. “I’ve got a better idea. How about we just go ahead and ignore the elephant long enough to eat? Then we can get dessert to go and head back to your place. We can have a glass of wine, some of Santiago’s legendary tiramisu, and sit down for a long chat.”

* * *

“Red or white?” Mallory asked, looking over her selection of wine.

It was limited at best. Bethany was the oenophile, and she always griped about Mallory buying wines simply because they were on sale. Wine just wasn’t her “thing.” The few wines she enjoyed were horribly sweet. Drinking some of the stuff Beth had made her taste seemed no better than sipping vinegar.

There were four bottles in Mallory’s refrigerator: two red, two white. Bethany had explained that not all wines should be refrigerated, but Mallory hadn’t paid too much attention. It was easier just to put them all in. Besides, now that she lived alone, the fridge was nothing but a big, empty cavern.

Why did wines all have different names? She didn’t want to mispronounce them and appear ignorant.

“Just red or white? Nothing more specific?” He set the box with their desserts on the table, kicked his shoes off, and made himself at home in the mess of her house. He dodged the piles he’d left when he’d wrapped things up on Friday, making his way through her kitchen.

“Yeah… um… I think.” She shrugged. “I’m not much of a wine person.”

“Let me guess… you like alcohol that doesn’t taste like alcohol. Piña coladas. Raspberry margaritas. Wine coolers.”

She nodded and smiled.

Right behind her now, he played with her hair, running his fingers through her curls. “Want me to pick one?”

What she wanted was for him to kiss her again. When her sex drive came back, it returned with the intensity of a hurricane. His simple touch made her body temperature shoot up and her pulse beat faster. “Sure.” The word came out a choked squeak.

Ben leaned closer, looking over her shoulder as his fingers stroked the nape of her neck. “Grab that moscato. Not that I’d normally team it with tiramisu, but if the lady wants sweet, she’ll get sweet.”

Plucking the bottle from the refrigerator door, she stepped away from him to put the wine on the island. She fished a corkscrew from the drawer. Rascal rubbed against her legs, probably thinking she was going to feed him. “You already ate, kitty cat,” she scolded.

Rascal must have known a rejection when he heard one because he headed down the hall with his nose in the air, tail twitching behind him.

Ben held out his hand. “Let me open it.”

Handing him the tool, she murmured, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

So they were back to saying nothing of importance and exchanging pleasantries.

Two steps forward, one step back.

Dinner had been a roller-coaster ride, alternating between raw emotions and pleasant chitchat. She wasn’t sure which she enjoyed more because she was happy just to be in the amusement park of life again.

The last few years she and Jay were married, even before the cancer, they’d fallen into a relationship that was comfortable. But not in a good way. They’d been moving through life as though sleepwalking, never feeling any excitement or anger or passion. Just…
boring
. And distant.

Then her life was thrown into the deep end, and the man who should have been her lifeline, the one thing who could have helped her through the ordeal, left. She’d wanted to fight, to scream, to thrash things out, anything to try to save the marriage. Until he’d said the one thing she’d had no response for except to stare at him in mute resignation.

It’s too real, Mallory. It’s just too fucking real.

Damn right it was real!

So much for “in sickness and in health.” He’d announced his intention to leave on a Thursday and had a mover in their house the following Saturday. She’d stood vigilant over what they could and couldn’t take, but Jay was nowhere to be found. Pretty typical of him to make an enormous mess and then leave others to clean it up.

She’d only seen him twice since the divorce, and after he moved out of Cloverleaf, she’d breathed a relieved sigh. She no longer had to worry about bumping into him at the grocery or the bank, especially when her head had been bald and her body ravaged by surgery and chemotherapy.

She hadn’t had time to mourn the death of the marriage, and even if she had, she wouldn’t have wasted tears on Jay Hamilton’s sorry ass. Time, distance, and cancer had given Mallory perspective, and her conclusion was that the marriage had died years before her diagnosis. Neither of them had been willing to admit it, but the fact remained: they’d drifted too far apart to be able to find each other again.

The pop of the cork brought a smile, reminding her that one chapter of her life had closed, but another could very well be opening. She grabbed two mismatched wineglasses from the cabinet and set them in front of Ben.

He poured a generous amount in each glass, picked up one to hand to her, and then took the other. “Let’s go sit on the couch. Okay?”

“Sure. It’s probably the only furniture without tarps on it.”

Ben winced. “Yeah… sorry about that.”

“I wasn’t scolding. I’ll be glad when you’re done with the fireplace. Then I can start a fire with a flick of a switch.”

“Told ya so. Gas logs are great.”

Mallory sat down with her bent knee on the cushion so she could face him.

He mimicked her action, giving her his full attention as he sipped his wine. “A little sweet, but good.”

She took a taste and was glad to find he was right. “Do you want me to get a couple of forks so we can eat the tiramisu?”

“Not yet.”

Another sip kept her from letting any stupid words slip out of her mouth. The intimacy of the scene, the way the tension between them sizzled, had erotic images popping through her brain. Heated kisses. Intimate embraces. Hushed words of desire. Skin on skin.

“Can we talk about the elephant again now?” he asked.

The inevitable question.
She shrugged. “I suppose… If you want to know about the cancer—”

“I do, but that’s another elephant for another time.”

“Then what—”

“Us. I want to talk about
us
.”

“Oh…” She sipped more wine, loving the warm trail it blazed down her throat and working up her courage. She wanted to ask him the litany of questions that had crowded her thoughts since he’d declared he was determined to make her love him.

Could he have meant it?

Jay had been quick to declare his love, but it turned out to be fleeting and shallow. Could she trust her own judgment now?

Her gut told her yes. Ben was nothing like Jay, from talents to temperament. Age and cancer had given her wisdom and insight. Ben wouldn’t behave like her ex. She was sure of it.

“I meant every word.”

“Are you a mind reader?”

“Nah. I only answered the question I’d be thinking in your shoes.”

“You just surprised me.” More than surprised. Near to stupefied.

“Yeah, well…” He shrugged. “Surprised myself a little, too.”

“Why?”

He set his glass on one of the few bare areas of the coffee table. Then he reached for hers and set it down as well. “I told myself I’d never get into something heavy again, not while my daughter would be impacted by it.”

“Then why now? Why me?”

“Because the thought of treating you like any of the other women I’ve dated just seems wrong.”

She glanced away. “You feel sorry for me because of the cancer.”

Ben nudged her to face him and then shook his head. “Because you’re not like the others. Never once did I consider a future with a new woman—as much for my daughter as for myself. Amber didn’t deserve to live with that kind of upheaval again.”

“Your ex was that bad?”

“Oh yeah. But with you… it seemed obscene not to reach for something more permanent. You’re not the kind of woman a guy dates and then moves on, and you wouldn’t ruin my daughter’s life. You’d enhance it.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Fishing for a compliment?”

Her eyes widened. “No… I—I—”

“I was teasing, Mal.” His fingers wrapped around hers. “You’re a good person. You understand kids, too. How could someone so sweet not enhance Amber’s life? Look, I really did mean what I said—I want us to try the relationship thing.”

Mallory searched her mind, trying to push aside the terror at opening up emotionally again. Physically would be no problem. The stroke of his thumb against her palm was driving her to distraction. But just because she wanted to sleep with Ben didn’t mean she was ready to do anything more than date.

She just didn’t know. “This could complicate things, Ben.”

He threw her a lopsided smile that set off his dimple. “ ‘Complicated’ usually means something fun’s about to happen.”

“Or something sad…”

“I try to be an optimist.”

Optimism had driven her since her diagnosis. “I do, too, although cancer tends to bring out a person’s pessimistic side.”

“I can only imagine.”

“Juliana kept telling me everything would be okay, and I always figured positive thinking helped me fight harder.” His fingers dropped to her knee, stroking small circles. His touch worked as well as the wine to help her relax. “I’m cancer-free now.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded. “I’m not going to let my whole life be about a disease. I won’t be a victim. I’m still me, not just some patient.”

“A survivor.”

“Yeah, a survivor.”

“Have you dated much?” he asked.

“Since I found out about the cancer? Or since the divorce?”

“Either…”

Honesty.
The right way to start a relationship, and damn if he hadn’t made her believe that was what they were doing. “I went on two dates. Neither of them worked on any level.”

“Not your type?”

“Not even close. My heart wasn’t in it. Both guys brought me home right after dinner, and I was beyond grateful.”

“Are you ready now? To date, I mean.”

The very question she’d been asking. “You know… I think I am.”

“With me?” His voice cracked.

“With you.”

* * *

Mallory’s smile hit Ben like an electric shock. It had been a long time since he’d felt the kind of attraction now holding him hostage. Even when he’d met Theresa, their connection hadn’t made heat rush through him, creating a primitive desire to touch, to claim, to mark her like an animal wanting to let others know she was his mate.

Had he contracted some weird virus?

Sure, he worried about Amber. Yet, the more time he spent with Mallory, the more he was certain she’d be as good for his daughter as she was for him.

All Amber had known was a woman who changed her mind as often as her clothes—a mother who put her own selfish desires before anyone else. While he’d loved Theresa, he probably wouldn’t have married her if she hadn’t gotten pregnant with Amber. His daughter was the best thing he’d ever done in his life, so there were no regrets.

The woman sitting next to him, opening up, sure wasn’t the Mallory he’d known so far. What he wanted now was to unearth all there was to discover and to see if he was right in judging her as unique.

Hearing her two simple words declaring she felt the same was—

Come off it, Ben! She never said she was panting after you the way you’re panting after her.

Just because he was in the throes a thirty-five-year-old’s version of a heavy crush didn’t mean she was.

He shifted, trying to get into a more comfortable position. His erection wasn’t making it easy.

“I hate this couch, too. Really uncomfortable.” Mallory’s brown eyes sparkled with humor as they dropped to the front of his pants.

He snatched a throw pillow and put it over his lap. “Um… sorry.”

She stared at the pillow. “Why would you be sorry about that?”

How was he supposed to answer her? Having a boner hadn’t been this embarrassing since junior high, when his teachers seemed to have radar for knowing the most humiliating time to call him to the board to work a math problem.

“I-I’m afraid you’ll think I just want to have sex.”

Leaning closer, she grabbed the pillow and tossed it like a Frisbee. “We already established that this wasn’t about sex.”