The One Who Got Away (15 page)

The bang of her words hit him right in the ego and he felt his chest rise with peacock pride. That lasted all of about five seconds. “And that's a problem?”

“Yes, that's a problem. Come on, Ben. It's been ten years. And what we did that weekend has totally blown everything since off the map. How fair is that?”

She sounded affronted. Indignant. He couldn't help his burst of laughter. She responded by hitting him in the arm.

“Hey,” he said, rubbing the pain. “That hurt.”

“Well, don't laugh at me.”

“I'm not laughing. I'm bewildered. Confused. Not laughing.”

“What's so hard to understand? You spoiled it for me, Ben Bowman. Every guy I met after you failed the Ben Test. I mean it, there just wasn't…”

“Wasn't?”

“I don't know. The magic. Whatever.”

“Whatever,” he repeated. “And your plan was?”

She sighed, as if he was particularly slow. “To have a repeat performance, so that I could get rid of all the crazy ideas I had about you. About us. So that I could bring you down to size. Get a real life.”

“Oh.”

“What are you all disappointed about?”

“I'm supposed to be happy that I'm not your number one stud muffin?”

“What are you talking about? What do you think the whole problem is? Are you dense?”

He held back a grin. Damn, but she was beautiful when she was completely irrational. “Evidently.”

She slugged him again, this time on the chest. And this time, her hand stayed right there, her fingers warm against his cool skin. “Damn it, Ben, it failed. The whole plan. Utterly. That's why I kissed Cade.”

“Want to run that by me again?”

“I was confused, because of our night. Because it was even better than I remembered. Because, oh God, now I'm really in trouble, and how in hell am I supposed to get on with my life when I know that when I'm with you, it's like…”

“Magic,” he whispered.

She nodded, looking like her heart had been broken into tiny pieces. “I kissed him because I should have liked it. He's like this great-looking guy. And nice. Totally buff.”

“But?”

“It was nothing. Worse than nothing. A joke.”

“Am I supposed to be sorry?”

“I don't know.” She walked a few slow steps away. “I don't know much of anything, except I'm completely bewildered by the whole thing. You were supposed to be just a guy. A regular guy.”

“And I'm not?”

She turned around. “Not to me.”

B
EN WENT UNDER WATER
, and stayed there for a while. The lack of oxygen was an excellent distraction from the thoughts bombarding his brain. She was upset that he was good in bed? That she'd never had anyone better than him? Maybe he hadn't understood properly. Women had always confused him, and this was just another example of how they were from a different planet. Right?

A hand grabbed his hair and pulled him straight up. Right back into Taylor's face.

“Drowning isn't going to get you out of this, mister.”

“I don't know. It seemed like a pretty good option.”

“Ben, cut it out.”

He folded Taylor into his arms. “I'm sorry, hon. I don't mean to be treating this…thing…lightly. I'm just—”

“Confused. Welcome to my world.”

They stood for a while, moving gently back and forth in the warm water. He closed his eyes, letting himself enjoy the feeling of her body against his, so much of her naked. Smooth. Slick.

“I shouldn't have said anything,” she whispered.

“Yeah, you should have.”

“But now both of us don't know what to do.”

He pulled back far enough to look at her. “You're wrong. I know just what to do.” He kissed her, gently at first. After her lips parted, he entered her, moving slowly and precisely, in no rush at all.

Her body relaxed into his embrace as she shared the kiss. Music, something by Vanessa Williams, wafted through the palm trees and the water, and somewhere out there he heard laughter. But he didn't want to be out there. Not even an inch away from this warm woman, this incredible woman. He had to wonder, albeit briefly, if his overwhelming reaction to her touch had anything to do with what she'd just told him.

Probably not. He'd reacted this way ever since that weekend, long ago. Since she'd first showed up on his parents' doorstep. When he'd made love to her then, it had been the most shattering thing he'd ever experienced. Until this week.

Damn
. No wonder he was having so much trouble with all this. He hadn't put it together, that's all. Being with Taylor was completely different from being with anyone else in his life. Everything was completely different, and if his life depended on saying how, he'd be a goner. It just was.

But it was also just sex. Great sex. Incredible sex. Nothing more. So why sweat it? He had her, here, in his arms. They had a cabana. They had a room. It would be moronic not to do what they both wanted.

He pulled back from her lips and moved slowly down to the side of her neck. She moaned, and he
figured they better get out soon, because he didn't want to have any spontaneous emissions here in the very public waters of the Hard Rock pool.

“Come on,” he said, turning so his arm was around her shoulder and he was leading her to the steps. “There's a drink waiting for you topside.”

“Oh, good,” she said. “Get me drunk so I don't have to think anymore, okay?”

He laughed. “It's not the end of the world, Taylor.”

“Not yours.”

“Not yours, either. We'll figure it out.”

She didn't say more as they climbed the steps and headed for the cabana. The guy was still there, but the moment he saw them, he picked up his drink, sitting next to theirs, nodded a sad goodbye and went on his way.

Once they were alone, Ben handed Taylor her towel as he dried himself off. It was far more interesting to watch her than to pay attention to damp spots.

God, she was the most beautiful creature on earth. Her skin was as smooth as satin, and her curves were the essence of what was magnificent about women.

Unfortunately, his little—or should he say big—problem wasn't going anywhere, so he found his seat and put the towel over his lap. It was important not to focus on Taylor at the moment. He'd be much better off thinking of say, Joe Panzer, the thug he'd been tracking back in New York.

Only, Joe was far away, and Taylor was bending
over really, really close. He could see the curve of her breasts, and he was lost.

He took hold of her shoulders and brought her down on his lap. “I can't get enough of you,” he said.

“Yes you can. You have to. We're leaving in two days.”

“I don't want to think about that.”

“Me, neither. But I can't help it.”

He nibbled her earlobe. “Hey, let's just leap off that bridge when we come to it, okay? This is our vacation, and we're the lucky ones. Did you see that guy who just left? He's so jealous of us he could spit.”

“I know. And believe me, I'm happy.”

“That doesn't look like a happy face.”

Instead of the smile he expected, he got an actual frown.

“What?”

She quirked her head slightly to the left. “Tell me about your day.”

“Uh, I woke up without you—”

“I don't mean today. I mean your normal, average day.”

“Oh.” He really didn't want to talk about his life, but he also didn't want Taylor to move. Every time she moved, even a little bit, she rubbed him just enough to make him go a wee bit crazier. “It's not very exciting.”

“Tell me.”

“And there really isn't an average day.”

She yanked on his hair. Not hard, but enough to smart.

“Ow.”

She didn't say another word. But then, she didn't have to.

“Fine. I get up. Normally around six-thirty or so. But it depends.”

“On?”

“Whatever I'm working on. If I'm tailing someone who's a night owl, then I have to be a night owl, and I sleep during the day. If I'm doing white-collar investigations, I do the nine-to-five thing.”

She settled down, doing that wicked thing with her butt. “That's better.”

“I'll say,” he whispered.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing. Okay. I have coffee. I like coffee. I grind it myself. It has no vanilla or hazelnut or chocolate in it. It's just coffee. Strong.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And sometimes I have breakfast.”

“Not always?”

“Not if it's nine at night.”

“But you try to eat healthy?”

He turned his head for a second. “I try.”

She grabbed his chin so he was facing her. “How often do you succeed?”

“At least once a week, I eat something green. That isn't mold.”

She sighed. “Okay. Continue.”

He closed his eyes and pressed his chin against her bare shoulder. “I work out six days a week. There's
a gym two blocks from my place. Nothing fancy, just weights. And I run.”

“At the gym?”

“Around.”

“Tell me about your place. Is it an apartment?”

“A co-op.”

“Big?”

“For Manhattan? Huge. For anywhere else? No.”

“Do you have a bedroom?”

“And a small office. Really small. But it holds my computer stuff.”

“Go on.”

“Actually, I like where I live. I've got a great king-size bed that I spent a fortune on. I can't afford to be down with a bad back, or not sleep well.”

“A comforter?”

He nodded. “Navy blue.”

“Good sheets?”

He shrugged. “Sheets.”

“Hmm.”

He looked up to meet her troubled gaze. “Sheets are a chick thing.”

“Not after you've slept in Egyptian cotton.”

“You want the rest?”

She grinned.

“I have a decent TV. I get cable. I like watching the Sci-Fi Channel. And Discovery.”

“No Playboy Channel?”

“Sometimes.”

“Your living room furniture.”

“I've found some decent pieces. I like old wooden
furniture. And leather. I have one of the top-ten great couches.”

“What about the kitchen?”

“Great coffeemaker. Excellent knives and pots. I don't cook much, but when I do, I don't screw around.”

“Last question about the co-op, I swear,” she said, crossing her heart. “What about art?”

“Art?” He was a little distracted by where she'd crossed herself. Real close to the edge of her bikini top.

“On the walls?”

“Oh. Yeah. Nothing fancy. Some stuff I've accumulated over the years. Things that I like.”

“Anything I'd recognize?”

“Probably not. I tend to go to small art shows, flea markets, that kind of thing. No posters by Erte or Van Gogh prints.”

“I see.”

“So, do I pass?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Phew.”

She laughed. “You couldn't have failed, you goose.”

“So is it my turn?”

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

“Okay. What do you want?”

She stilled. Completely. Not the reaction he was hoping for, but he supposed she had expected him to ask about her furnishings. He didn't give a damn about those. He wanted to know what all this meant.

“Tell you what,” he said. “Why don't you reach over and get our drinks while you're thinking.”

“Great idea.” She uncurled her arm from around his neck and reached for the drinks, but she could only reach his. She ended up getting off his lap, and he stole the moment to do something he should have done when they entered the cabana. He closed the curtains. Then he sat down again. This time, he didn't use the towel, although if she looked, she'd see that despite the conversation, his hormones were fully engaged.

Handing him his drink, she took a long sip of her piña colada, and then she climbed on top of his lap again. Once they were settled, he drank, then put the glass down on the floor next to him.

He liked the cabana this way. A little on the dark side, but the candles on the table illuminated them both enough to see what was important. She still pondered his question while he went back to studying the rise and fall of her chest.

“One hell of a question there, Ace.”

“I know. But I still want an answer.”

“So do I.”

“What do you mean?”

She sighed, resting her head on his. “I don't know what I want. Except that I want more of this. What I have with you.”

“Are you saying you want to continue this after we leave Vegas?”

“Yes. Maybe.” She squeezed his shoulder. “I don't know. All I'm sure about is that my plan went to hell in a hand basket. And now…”

“Now you have to face some things that maybe you didn't want to?”

She nodded.

“Like maybe you weren't rejecting those guys because they weren't great in the sack?”

Her head jerked upright, and she looked at him accusingly. “What?”

“I'm just guessing here, but something tells me this whole thing isn't just about sex.”

“It is so.”

“Oh?”

She stood and walked over to the other chair, all the way across the table from him.

“Look,” he said. “I don't mean to upset you. You're the one that decided you liked this truth business.”

“I told you the truth. It is about sex.”

“Okay. If you say so.”

“Dammit, Ben. It can't be about more than sex.”

“Why not?”

As she sat, she picked up her towel and covered herself. “'Cause I don't want it to be.”

“Ah, good answer.”

“Stop it.”

He went over to her side, knelt by the chair and took her hand in his. “Listen, Taylor, I think you're an incredible woman. I can't imagine any man in his right mind not thinking you're incredible. The odd thing here is that you haven't found one that you find just as great.”

“It's not that easy.”

“No. It isn't. And it's a lot harder when you have a built-in defense mechanism at the ready.”

“Who died and made you so smart?”

He laughed. “It's a lot easier to see from over here, that's all.”

“So what's your story? Why aren't you blissfully happy with a wife and two kids?”

“Tried it.”

“And she was gay. Right. So what about after her?”

He shook his head. “Haven't had a lot of interest.”

“In women?”

“In a relationship.”

She leaned over, resting her chin on his head. “Oh, Ben, don't you dare tell me you think she went gay because of you. That's not possible.”

“I don't think that.”

“Good.”

“But I also know that her being gay wasn't all that was wrong with our marriage.”

She sat back. “Oh?”

He stood up. Not so much because he wanted to get away, but because he was getting a cramp. He walked over and got his drink. “We were always more friends than lovers. We had separate lives. Separate interests. It was like having a roommate, not a wife.”

“Do you think that's why you married her?”

“More than likely. And to be honest, if she hadn't decided she wanted a real marriage, I wouldn't have complained. I was happy with things the way they were.”

“Oh.”

He shrugged. Took a drink. Felt the burn all the way down. Thought about telling her the darker truth that came after the marriage ended. About his doubts, his fears. But she didn't need to hear all that garbage. “I'm not a complicated man, Taylor. I like things simple. And I try like hell to be honest with myself. I'm not the kind for marriage and all that. I'm good at looking at other people's lives. Not my own.”

She didn't say anything. For so long, he went back to his chair, sat down. Drank some more. Wondered if he should have kept his big mouth shut.

Then she stood, so abruptly, he almost dropped his glass. “Let's go to my room,” she said. “Okay?” She put her drink down, slipped on her cover-up. “Let's just forget all this and do what we do best.” She stood over him. “Please, Ben. Let's just go.”

He wasn't about to argue.

 

B
EN TOOK THE SOAP
from the little dish on the side of the shower and rubbed it between his hands until he'd built up a fistful of suds. Then he smiled as he sidled up real close to her, with the water hitting her back. He began at her neck. His slightly cooler hands, slick with lemon-scented bubbles, rubbed her slowly, tenderly. She let her head fall back, closed her eyes and let him take her to another world.