Runaway Groom (16 page)

“Oh, indeed.” He winked at her as his hand fondled her breast.

Shards of delight speared directly to her core and she instantly tightened around him.

“That’s the way.” Both his hands gripped her hips and he pushed up into her.

She moved, surprised at how much she could feel and how amazing it was. She met him stroke for stroke and caught the moment his eyes glazed and his breath got ragged. She wanted to watch him shatter but he was taking her with him. Her body was controlling her and pulling her mind up and out of herself toward the ball of bliss.

Gasping, he shuddered under her and a moment later she screamed his name as she was flung into a place she’d never been before. A place she instantly wanted to revisit.

With limp limbs, she rolled off Ben, knocking his shoulder.

“Ouch, wrong side.”

“Sorry.” She rolled back and he pulled her in against him, holding her there with his good arm.

“How did that work for you?” he asked, his eyes searching her face.

She grinned like a crazy person. “Words can’t touch it.”

She immediately worried. “And you?”

He kissed her on the nose. “It’s good to be back in the game.”

It is what it is
, she reminded herself. A game. Sex between two people passing through Whitetail and sharing this massive house.

As much as she wanted to stay snuggled up next to Ben, hearing the steady
lub-dub
of his heart under her ear, she’d read enough to know that cuddling wasn’t something that happened after casual sex. For once, she wasn’t going to be the one left in the bed. She gave him her best attempt at a scorching kiss and then swung her legs over the edge of the bed and fished up her panties with her feet, blushing at how fast she’d whipped them off earlier.

Ben’s fingers walked up her spine. “Bathroom visit?”

“Ah, no. I should get back to the project,” she said, adopting his euphemism for the wedding gown.

“That’s a shame. I’ve just been lying here working out how many bedrooms there are in this house.”

A shiver of anticipation shot through her as she found her bra. “How many?”

“Nine plus the carriage house.”

“That’s a lot of sets of sheets to wash.” She threw his jeans at him. “Especially as it’s hard to make beds with one arm.”

“I guess that makes me the romantic in this situation.” He dangled the jeans and pulled them up over one leg.

“Do you need a hand?”

“I’d prefer not to have to put them on at all.”

Oh dear lord, he was a gift she still couldn’t quite believe was real.

He pulled her to him and pressed a kiss to her belly. “I can’t wait until this arm is stronger and I’m working at full capacity.”

Ben at full capacity boggled her mind.

“I was thinking,” he said with a calculating glint in his eyes, “that seeing as you dumped flour all over me, you should probably get in the shower with me and wash me.”

Yes
,
please.
“There’s more room in the downstairs spa.”

He caressed her hair. “I like the way you think.”

She spun out of his arms. “First one there gets to be washed first.”

As she ran out of the room she heard his cry of “no fair” and the sound of him jumping up and down to get his other leg into his jeans.

Laughing, she was halfway down the stairs when she heard, “Oh, there you are.”

She froze like a deer caught in headlights, only she had been caught shirtless in the surprised gaze of her parents.

Her hands instantly crossed her chest in an
X
as her mouth dried so fast her tongue stuck to the roof. “Mom? Daddy?” The words came out barely above a whisper. “Wh...what are you doing here?”

“We’ve come to ask you that very same question,” her mother said.

“But...but how...how did you even know I was here?” She’d been so careful not to drop any hints that anything about her life had changed.

“Your sisters said there were some photos on Facebook that had you tagged as being in Whitetail.”

“Facebook?” Her gut dropped to her toes. Although she deliberately hadn’t posted any status updates on Facebook since leaving Chicago, she’d accepted friend requests from Melissa and Janey. It had never occurred to her they might tag her.

Her mother suddenly looked up and beyond her.

The creaking sound on the staircase told her Ben was behind her.
Oh
,
God
,
oh
,
God
,
oh
,
God.
She was thirty-two years old but she felt like she was sixteen and in huge trouble for sneaking around with a boy. Suddenly his hands were on her and her blouse was being clumsily put around her shoulders.

He whispered against her ear, “I thought you might need this.”

Mortified, she shoved her arms into the shirt, and as her trembling fingers tried to button it up, her mother said to Ben with a wide and joyous smile, “This is an amazing house, Jonathon.”

Right there and then, she wished her life was a fantasy novel and she had the power to evaporate on the spot.

* * *

Jonathon.
Ben filed that name away for a future discussion with Amy. Right now he wasn’t certain exactly what was going on but given the similarity in hair coloring between Amy and the older man, he’d bet his last dollar that she was talking to her parents. He wanted to take his cues from Amy only she seemed glued to the spot and rendered mute. Obviously, she hadn’t been expecting them.

He moved past Amy and walked toward her parents, sliding his arm out of his sling so he could shake their hands. “G’day. I’m Ben. Ben Armytage.”

“Todd and Lisa Sagar,” Amy’s father said, giving Ben a look that said,
you hurt my daughter in any way and I’ll hurt you so bad you’ll need more than that sling.

Ben appreciated the sentiment even if it did put him at some risk. “I’ll put the kettle on, shall I? Looks like everyone could do with a cuppa or would you prefer something stronger?”

“It’s five o’clock somewhere, right?” Todd said gruffly, looking like he could do with a stiff drink. “Is that flour in your hair?”

“I don’t understand,” Lisa said, looking between Ben and Amy. “Where’s Jonathon?”

Amy was whiter than alabaster and her shocked expression jolted his memory. She hadn’t told her parents she’d lost her job and obviously they were expecting a different guy—a guy she’d not told him about. He wished she’d say something, give him a clue on how she wanted to play this.

“It’s a funny story, isn’t it, Amy?” he said encouragingly, hoping to kick-start her into speech.

She nodded, her curls bouncing perkily despite their owner’s quiet desperation. “Hysterical,” she said weakly as she caught his gaze, her eyes pleading. “This is David Brandenburg’s vacation home.” At her mother’s blank look she added, “One of the senior partners.”

Okay then.
Ben guessed she must have her reasons for lying but he wasn’t happy about it. “And it’s a hell of a house. Would you like a tour?”

Lisa’s eyes narrowed as her gaze zeroed in on him. “So you work for M.M. Enterprises too?”

He shook his head. “No, I’m—”

“Ben’s an Australian friend of the Brandenburgs,” Amy said firmly, finally moving off the stairs. “Only David’s secretary double booked the house and I thought he was breaking in. This is the sort of funny part.”

“She hit me with her torch.” He immediately translated Australian to American. “Flashlight.”

“And I dislocated his shoulder.” Amy gave a tight laugh. “Ben’s staying here until he’s able to ride his motorcycle out of town.”

“And sleeping with you?”

“Mom!”

“I’ll go get those drinks,” Ben said quickly, deciding it was definitely time to exit.

“I’ll come with you,” Todd said firmly, flanking him all the way to the kitchen.

Suddenly life on the open road just got complicated.

Chapter Thirteen

“Mom, what is wrong with you?”

Amy stomped over to the fireplace and picked up the fire poker, shoving it jerkily at the logs.

Her mother, who was usually so circumspect, glared at her. “I could ask you the very same question.”

“I’m fine.”

“Really?” Her mother wrapped her arms around her in a hug before drawing back. “We’ve been worried sick about you, Amy. You’ve always scheduled us into your busy life but you’ve missed our last two lunches and you haven’t sounded like your usual self over the phone. Are you having some sort of breakdown?”

She bit her knuckle, appreciating her mother’s concern but not prepared to see the disappointment in her eyes if she told her the truth. “No, Mom, I’m not having a breakdown.”

Lisa tilted her head. “Honey, you told us you were in Ohio.”

Shit.
It was hard enough keeping track of her lies without social media complicating things. “I was and after that we came up here because the client has a vacation house nearby. Everyone’s gone back to the office now, but I’m staying on here a while longer to work on the project because it’s quieter.”

“And Jonathon?”

At least she didn’t have to lie to her mother about this. “We broke up.”

“Ah.”

“What do you mean, ‘ah’?”

Her mother’s smile was tinged with worried understanding. “That would explain the scruffy-looking Australian. Honey, be careful. You’ve always been so serious and driven about your life and Jonathon might have broken your heart but—”

“Mom,” she stabbed the fire so hard a log rolled out, “Jonathon did not break my heart.”

“If you say so.” Her mother’s expression said she didn’t believe her.

Ben walked in behind her father who was holding a tray of drinks. His gaze immediately sought hers and she could feel him asking her, “Are you okay?”

Her heart did a crazy flip that he cared in some odd way. Was she okay? Her parents had just arrived unannounced along with a hundred questions and had found her half-undressed and with a bare-chested man in tow. Okay seemed way too high on the positive scale. She shrugged.

He gave her what seemed to be an apologetic smile, which confused her. Why would he be apologizing?

Her father handed out the coffees and when he reached her, he said, “Ben and I have had a chat.”

“Oh?” She hadn’t heard her father sound quite so patriarchal since her youngest sister had tried to sneak out of the house at fifteen to meet a boy. She took a sip of her drink.

“I was telling him it’s been years since we visited up this way and Ben insisted we stay awhile.”

The unexpected burn of the whiskey in her coffee hit the back of her throat at the exact same time she decoded his words. She coughed violently.

Ben immediately rubbed her back. “Sorry. I should have warned you it was Irish coffee.”

Gulping in deep breaths, she finally found her voice. “That’s great, Daddy, but are you sure you can spare the time from work?”

“I’m owed vacation time.”

“What about you, Mom?” She prayed her mother’s schedule at the drugstore would kill this idea fast. “Between work and helping Cindy and Heidi with the babies—”

“I deserve some vacation time too.”

Panic simmered in her veins. She could hardly plead there was no room for them when the house had nine bedrooms. “Just as long as you know that I’m on a deadline so I can’t drop everything and vacation too.”

Ben’s fingers squeezed her shoulders. “This house has everything you need for a relaxing vacation,” he said, “and the carriage house is all set up if you want to move your gear in there. While you’re getting settled, Amy and I will start preparing dinner. How does seven o’clock sound?”

As her parents murmured their agreement, Amy’s brain spun out in blind panic. How the hell was she going to keep her lack of a job and the making of a wedding gown hidden from her parents?

* * *

“How could you?”

Amy’s fury hit Ben full on the moment they walked into the kitchen.

“How could I what?”

She slammed a chopping board down on the counter with a loud
thwack.
“Invite them to stay.”

“Hey,” he said indignantly, “your father invited himself. By the way, when you were a teenager did he used to scare away all your boyfriends with that evil-eye look he’s got going on?”

She hacked into a lettuce. “I didn’t have any boyfriends to scare away.”

“That makes sense.”

She wielded around from the counter banishing the cook’s knife. “What? That no guy would ask me out because I had crazy red hair, summer freckles and a body type that was more pear than straight? Thanks a lot.”

“No. Hey.” He slid the knife out of her hand and pulled her to him, kissing her and trying to banish what he figured were deep past hurts. Convince her that she was beautiful. “What makes sense is that as you haven’t had many boyfriends your dad isn’t used to meeting one of your lovers. It explains why he’s gone all caveman parenting on me.”

She gazed up at him, her gray eyes filled with torment, surprise and desire. “You’re my lover?”

He stroked her cheek. “Well, I was this afternoon and I did have plans to do it again if you’re up for it.”

Her head fell against his chest and he heard a muffled, “I’m thirty-two and my life sucks.”

Smiling, he kissed her hair. “Is that a yes or a no?”

She raised her head. “How can I have sex with you when my parents are in the house?”

“First up, they’re in the carriage house. Second, they already know we’ve had sex so it’s not like you need to hide
that
from them.” He couldn’t stop the criticism entering his voice. He didn’t like secrets. He had personal experience that they tore life apart. “So now that they’re here, you’re going to tell them about your job, right?”

She shook her head. “Ben, this is my family and you don’t know them.” Her earnest tone spun around him. “Trust me. Doing things my way is best.”

He wasn’t happy about it but there was something about the plea in her voice that made him say, “Other than the fact you’ve lost your job and you apparently had a boyfriend called Jonathon, is there anything else I should know so I don’t put my foot in it?”

Her expression flickered with guilt and determination. “Don’t mention the wedding gown.”

He grimaced. “I’m hardly likely to do that.”

She rose up on her toes and kissed him briefly, a combination of thanks and quiet desperation.

He played with her hair at the back of her neck, hating himself for what he was about to ask but needing to anyway. “So this Jonathon, the guy who never made you orgasm?”

She dropped her gaze, moved out of his arms and returned her attention to the salad.

A slither of unease ran through him. He seriously hated lies and she’d told him she didn’t have very much experience. Would she make up a man to appease her family too? “Amy, was this guy real?”

The knife split open a cabbage. “Oh yes, he was real.”

“But your parents never met him?”

“No.”

He knew she was hiding something from him. “And?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why not?”

She narrowed her now-flinty-gray eyes at him and her penetrating gaze sliced through him as surely as if it was the knife in her hand. “Do you want to tell me all about Lexie?”

Hell
,
no.

She slid the cabbage into a bowl with the same brisk actions she always used when she was fighting for control. “Didn’t think so. Can you go check the barbecue has propane so you can cook the steaks?”

“I can do that.” He left her dicing and chopping with ferocious intensity and headed toward the deck. The idea of sitting down to dinner with the three Sagars and all that associated tension was right up there with an hour in the dentist’s chair. He pulled out his phone and made a call.

* * *

Ella was working in her kitchen putting the finishing touches on the gum paste calla lilies she’d been working on all afternoon. They were part of a cascade of flowers that would wind its way around Janey Holzworth’s five-tiered, butter cream wedding cake and Ella was pleased with how they’d turned out.

“Ellie,” Al’s voice called, as the screen door to her kitchen squeaked open. “You need oil on this.”

She bristled. Just lately, every time Al came over he commented on something that needed fixing. “It’s on my list.”

“I could do it for you now, eh?”

“Thanks, Al, but as Ron never oiled a hinge in this house, I’ve been taking care of the screen door for a lot of years. I don’t see any reason to stop now.”

A flicker of something close to hurt crossed his face and she regretted her tone. Al was a good man and a dear friend, but she didn’t want him getting any ideas into his head about needing to take care of her. She didn’t need taking care of and she didn’t want him thinking she might want to take care of him. She’d spent a lot of years caring for Ron and although she missed him, she didn’t miss the lifestyle of a wife to a sick and dying man.

“So anyway,” Al continued, “I just got a call from Ben inviting us over to the house for supper. He says he’s cooking steaks.”

She glanced around at the sugary mess that was her kitchen and thought about the piece of salmon she had in her fridge ready to cook for her supper. “It’s short notice.”

“He said it’s impromptu because Amy’s parents just arrived, but it’s real casual.” Al pulled at his beard. “It sounds crazy but he sounded kinda like he needed us to come.”

She laughed. “Poor boy. He probably doesn’t want the third degree from Lisa and Todd. They were always very protective of Amy. She doesn’t have the same easygoing nature as her sisters.”

“So you’ll take off that apron and come, eh?”

“Sure, why not. It keeps me young to do spontaneous things.”

Al grinned. “Good to hear. Talking spontaneous, I’m taking you out there on my chopper.”

Had the man lost his mind? “I’m a grandmother, Al Swenson, and there is no way on God’s green earth that I’m getting on that noisy and dangerous machine with you.”

He sighed. “Have I ever had a motorcycle accident, Ella?”

She cast back her mind. “Well, not that I recall, but it’s the other drivers I worry about.”

“It’s a weeknight in October in Whitetail. There is no traffic.” His pale eyes suddenly twinkled in a tempting and coaxing way. “Come on, Ellie, live a little.”

Live a little.
Isn’t that what she’d craved during the last year of Ron’s life? She’d loved him dearly but his illness had tied her to him. For a tiny moment she actually contemplated what it would be like to ride on that powerful machine and then her common sense thankfully asserted itself. “I feel like I just got my life back, Al. I’m not going to risk losing it by riding with you on that damn bike.”

An intransigent look crossed his face. “Suit yourself. I’ll meet you out there.”

His reply startled her. “Aren’t you going to drive me in the truck?”

“Nope. I’m taking the chopper.” He strode out of her kitchen and the squeaky screen door slammed shut loudly behind him.

She stared at it. She’d fully expected Al to concede on the bike and now he seemed to have taken offense at her refusal to ride with him. Why was he so touchy about it? In her memory, she never recalled Alice getting on the bike so why would he expect her to?

Men.
Fine, she’d drive herself. It was no big deal. She drove herself most everywhere anyway. She was fine doing things on her own. Hanging the apron behind the door, she stomped toward the bathroom, annoyed with Al for being so ungentlemanly and annoyed with herself for letting it bother her.

* * *

“So, Mom, are you and Daddy going to take up Al’s offer to use his boat for a day on the lake?” Amy asked hopefully as she glanced outside at glorious fall sunshine.

“We thought we might,” her mother said, “for the morning at least. I was hoping if we left you to work alone this morning, then you could spend time with us this afternoon.”

She thought about the amount of work she had to do on Janey’s gown but if she said no to her mother’s request, it risked too many questions. “That sounds like fun.”

Her mother looked at her peculiarly. “I thought we could go clothes shopping.”

Amy glanced down at her faded jeans and a baggy Whitetail polo shirt she’d found in the woods on a jog with Ben. She’d brought it home, shaken out the dirt and laundered it. She’d deliberately worn this combination today so as not to draw attention to herself, because apart from her white blouse and black business suit, it was as close to normal as her wardrobe got.

Shopping was currently out of the question due to the rent on her apartment in Chicago and because of the distinct silence from the two employment agencies she’d contacted after all her own leads had frozen. “I’d rather hike up to the bluff. The view’s amazing.”

Her mother laughed. “Honey, do you remember the time we wanted you to hike up the bluff with us and you said no because you were reading
Gone with the Wind?
”

“I was fifteen, Mom.”

“I know, but you’ve never been one to hike. Even last year on Mackinac Island, you read while the rest of us hiked to Fort Holmes.”

“I was on vacation,” she said irritably, wondering when her mother had gotten so observant.

Lisa fiddled with a place mat. “Ben seems very athletic.”

“He is and he’s a bit OCD about healthy food.”

“Amy,” her mother said softly, “any relationship is doomed if you try to be someone you’re not.”

The words whipped up every insecurity she’d ever known to be true about herself and men. “What is that supposed to mean? That you don’t want me to be healthier and drop some weight? Or that no handsome guy could possibly find me attractive?”

Her mother looked askance. “That’s not what I meant at all and you know it. It’s just you’ve always been so serious and focused, striving for what you want.” She leaned forward. “Daddy tells me that Ben is on an extended trip from Australia with no real plans. He just doesn’t sound like your sort of guy.”

“Oh and with my vast experience with men, I have a particular type of guy?” She used sarcasm, trying to cover the fact that her mother’s words reflected her own beliefs but for very different reasons. “Can’t I just have a fling?”