Читать книгу One Unforgettable Summer: The Summer They Never Forgot / The Surgeon's Family Miracle / A Bride by Summer - Sandra Steffen - Страница 16

CHAPTER TEN

DESTINATION? SOMEWHERE THEY could have privacy. Purpose? To talk more freely about what had happened to each other in the twelve years since she’d left Dolphin Bay. And Sandy didn’t give a flying fig that the two bemused ladies Ben had ousted from Bay Books stood hands on hips and watched as she and Ben hastened away from the shop.

Even just metres down the street she fell out of step with Ben and had to skip to catch up. He turned to wait for her, suppressed laughter still dancing around his mouth, and extended his hand for her to take.

Sandy hesitated for only a second before she slid her fingers through his. Linked hands would make quite a statement to the good folk of Dolphin Bay. Anticipation and excitement throbbed through her as he tightened his warm, strong grip and pulled her closer. She smiled up at him, her breath catching in her throat at his answering smile.

When she’d very first held hands with Ben the simple act had been a big deal for her. Most of her schoolfriends had already had sex with their boyfriends by the age of eighteen. Not her. She’d never met a boy she’d wanted to do more with than kiss. When she’d met Ben she’d still been debating the significance of hands held with just palms locked or, way sexier, with fingers entwined.

And Ben?

Back then he’d had no scars.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked, surprised when her voice came out edged with nervousness.

‘My place,’ he said. His voice didn’t sound nervous in the slightest.

Did he live at the hotel? That would make sense. Maybe in an apartment as luxurious as the room where she was staying.

‘Do you remember my family’s old boathouse?’ he asked as he led her down the steps in front of the hotel.

‘Of course I do,’ she said, and she felt herself colour. Thirty years old and blushing at the memory of that ramshackle old boathouse. Dear heaven, she hoped he didn’t notice.

On the sand outside the boathouse, in the shelter of Ben’s father’s beached dinghies, she and Ben had progressed from first base to not-ready-to-progress-further-than-third.

She glanced quickly up at Ben. Oh, yes, he remembered too. The expression in those deep blue eyes made that loud and clear.

She blushed a shade pinker and shivered at the memory of all that thwarted teen sexuality—and at the thought of how it might feel to finally do something about it if she and Ben got to that stage this time around.

‘I live in the boathouse,’ he said.

‘You live there?’ She didn’t know what else to say that would not come out sounding ill-mannered.

Instead, she followed Ben across the sand in silence, wondering why a successful businessman would choose to live in something that was no more than a shack.

But the structure that sat a short distance to the right of the hotel bore little resemblance to the down-at-heel structure of her memory. Like so much of Dolphin Bay, it had changed beyond recognition.

‘Wow! I’m impressed,’ she said.

Ben’s remodelled boathouse home looked like something that could star on a postcard. Supported by piers on the edge of the bay, its dock led out into the water. Timber-panelled walls were weathered to a silvery grey in perfect harmony with the corrugated iron of the peaked roof. Window trim and carriage lamps had been picked out in a deep dusky blue. Big tubs of purple hydrangeas in glazed blue pots sat either side of the door.

Ben leaned down to pluck a dead leaf from one of the plants without even seeming to realise he did it. She wouldn’t have taken him for a gardener—but then she knew so very little of what interests he might have developed in the years since they’d last been together at this rich-in-memories part of the beach.

‘The boathouse was the only part of the guesthouse to survive the fire,’ Ben said. He pushed open the glossy blue door. ‘Jesse lived here before he went away. I had it remodelled as guest accommodation, but liked it so much I kept it for myself.’

‘I can see why,’ she said. ‘I envy you.’

A large ceramic dog bowl filled with water, hand-painted with the words ‘Hobo Drinks Here’, sat just outside the door. She remembered the look of devotion in the dog’s big eyes and Ben’s obvious love for him.

‘Where’s your adorable dog?’ she asked, stepping through the door he held open for her, fully expecting the retriever to give Ben a boisterous greeting.

‘Mum dog-sits him the days I can’t take him to work with me,’ he said. ‘Seems she always has a houseful of strays. He fits right in.’

Sandy was about to say something about his mother, but the words were stopped by her second, ‘Wow!’ as Ben stepped aside and she got her first glimpse of the interior of the boathouse.

She only had a moment to take in a large open-plan space, bleached timber and shades of white, floor-to-ceiling windows facing the water at the living room end and a vast wooden bed at the other.

The thought that it would be a fabulous location for an advertising shoot barely had time to register in her mind, because the door slammed shut behind them and she was in Ben’s arms.

* * *

Ben didn’t want to give a tour of the boathouse. He didn’t want to talk about the architectural work Jesse had done on the old building. He just wanted, at last, to have Sandy to himself.

For a long, still moment he held her close, his arms wrapped tightly around her. He closed his eyes, breathed in the vanilla scent of her hair, scarcely able to believe it was real and she was here with him. He could feel the warm sigh of her breath on his neck, hear the thud-thud-thud of her heartbeat. Then he kissed her. He kissed the curve of her throat. He kissed the delicate hollow beneath her ear. He pressed small, hungry kisses along the line of her jaw. Then he kissed her on the mouth.

Without hesitation Sandy kissed him right back. She tasted of coffee and chocolate and her own familiar sweetness. As she wound her arms around his neck, met his tongue with hers, she made that sexy little murmur deep in her throat that he remembered from a long time ago. It drove him nearly crazy with want.

Secure in the privacy of the boathouse, he kissed her long enough for them to catch right up on the way they’d explored kissing each other all those years ago. Until kissing no longer seemed enough.

The straps of her yellow dress gave little resistance as he slid them down her smooth shoulders. She shrugged to make it easier for him. Without the support of the straps, the top of her dress fell open. He could see the edge of her bra, the swell of her breasts, the tightness of her nipples. He kissed down her neck and across the roundness of her breasts, until she gasped and her hands curled tightly into his shoulders.

He couldn’t get enough of her.

But with an intense effort he forced himself to pull back. ‘Do you want me to stop?’

‘No,’ she said immediately. ‘Not yet. I couldn’t bear it if you stopped.’

In reply, he scooped her up into his arms. Her eyes widened with surprise and excitement. Her arms tightened around his neck and she snuggled her cheek against his shoulder.

She laughed as he marched her towards the bedroom end of the boathouse. ‘Even more muscles than when you were nineteen,’ she murmured in exaggerated admiration, her voice husky with desire.

She was still laughing as he laid her on the bed—his big, lonely bed. Her dress was rucked up around her slender tanned thighs, giving him a tantalising glimpse of red panties. She kicked off her shoes into the air, laughed again as they fell to the wooden floor with two soft thuds. Then she held out her arms to urge him to join her. Warm, vibrant Sandy, just as he remembered her. Only more womanly, more confident, more seductive.

He kicked off his own shoes and lay down next to her. He leaned over her as she lay back against the pillows, her face flushed, her eyes wide.

‘I never thought I’d see you back here.’ His voice was hoarse with need for her.

She kissed him. ‘Do you remember the sand outside this place? How scratchy it was?’ she asked. ‘How we’d sneak off there whenever we could get away from everyone.’

‘How could I forget?’ he replied. Ever since she’d walked into the hotel and back into his life he’d thought of little else.

‘This is so much more comfortable,’ she said, with on-purpose seduction in her smile. She pulled him down to her to kiss him again. ‘And private,’ she murmured against his mouth.

Her kiss was urgent, hungry, and he responded in kind. Outside on that sand as teenagers they’d fooled around as though they had all the time in the world. Now they had a clock ticking on their reunion. And they were playing grown-up games.

Within minutes he’d rid her of her dress and her bra. He explored the lush new fullness of her breasts. Kissed and teased her nipples.

He lifted his head and she made a murmur of protest. His voice was ragged. ‘You sure you’re ready for this?’

Sandy’s eyes were huge. ‘I should say no. I should say we need to spend more time together first, that we can’t rush into anything we might regret.’ Her voice broke. ‘But I can’t say no. I want you too much. Have always wanted you... Don’t stop, Ben. Please don’t stop.’

What she’d said about not rushing made sense. This was going faster than he could have anticipated. He should be the sensible one. Should stop it. But he was beyond thinking sensibly when it came to Sandy. He only had four days with her.

She kissed him. He kissed her back and was done for. The last restraints gone. He stroked down the curve of her belly, felt her tremble at his touch. Then her panties were gone and he explored there too.

‘Not fair. I want to get you naked as well,’ she murmured as she started to divest him of his clothes.

She kissed a hot trail across his chest as she slid off his shirt, stroked right down his arms. Her fingers weren’t quite steady as she fumbled with the zipper on his shorts. It made the act of pulling them over his hips a series of tantalising caresses along his butt and thighs that made his body harden so much it ached.

Then they were naked together.

* * *

Sandy’s heart was doing the flipping over thing so rapidly she felt dizzy. Or maybe the dizziness was from the desire that throbbed through her, that made her press her body close to Ben. Close. Closer. Not close enough.

Did that urgent whimper come from her as Ben teased her taut nipples with his tongue? As he stroked her belly and below until she bucked against his hand with need? She gasped for breath as ripples of pleasure pulsed everywhere he touched. Revelled in the intensity of the intimacy they were sharing.

This was further than they’d gone the last time they’d been on this beach together. Now she wanted more. Much more. He was as ready for her as she was for him. She shifted her hips to accommodate him, to welcome him—at last.

Then she stilled at the same time as he did. Spoke at the same time as he did.

‘Protection.’

‘Birth control.’

He groaned, pressed a hard, urgent kiss against her mouth, then swung himself off the bed.

Sandy felt bereft of his warmth and presence. The bed seemed very big and empty without him. Hurry, hurry, hurry back! She wriggled on the quilt in an ecstasy of anticipation, pressed her thighs together hard. Twelve years she’d waited, and she didn’t want to wait a second longer.

But she contained her impatience enough to watch in sensual appreciation as Ben, buck naked, strode without a trace of self-consciousness towards the tall dresser at the other side of the bed. He was magnificent, her surf god, in just his skin. Broad shoulders tapering to the tight defined muscles of his back; firm, strong buttocks, pale against the tan of the rest of him; long, muscular legs. A wave of pure longing for him swept through her and she gripped her hands tight by her sides.

He reached the dresser, pulled out the top drawer.

Yes! Get the protection and get back here. Pronto!

But he hesitated—that taut, magnificent body was suddenly very still. Then he reached for a small framed photo that stood on the top of the dresser. It was too far away for Sandy to make out the details, just that there was a woman. Ben picked it up and slid it into the drawer, face downwards.

Sandy caught her breath.

Jodi. The photo must be of Jodi.

Ben didn’t want her to see it. Didn’t want Jodi seeing her naked on his bed.

And that was okay. Of course it was.

She had absolutely no reason to be upset by his action. He’d told her his late wife had loved him so unselfishly that she didn’t want him to be alone. Sandy couldn’t allow herself even a twinge of jealousy that Jodi had been the perfect wife.

But the desire that had been simmering though her suddenly went right off the boil. Despite the warmth of the day, she shivered. She pulled herself up on her elbows, looked around for something to cover her nakedness. She found his shirt, clutched it against her. It was still warm from his body heat.

Ben’s gaze caught hers in a long, silent connection. Sandy’s throat tightened. He knew she’d seen. But he didn’t say anything. She knew he wouldn’t. Knew she couldn’t ask—in spite of his earlier frankness.

She realised with a painful stab of recognition that Ben had gone so far away, in such a different direction from the youth they’d shared, that she didn’t know him at all any more. For all they’d shared over the last twenty-four hours, today’s Ben had been forged by loss and grief beyond her comprehension.

She’d loved Ben back then, with the fierce intensity of first love. But now? How could she love him when she didn’t know him any more? Wasn’t this just physical attraction she was feeling? She had never had sex without love. The fact was, though, she was the one who had encouraged this encounter. How could she back down now?

And yet his look of excited yet respectful anticipation made her swell with emotion. Did she love him again already? Was that what the heart-flipping thing was all about? Had her heart just taken up where it had left off twelve years ago? What if these four days were all she would ever have of him?

Desire warmed her again. She wanted him. She would take the chance.

She smiled as Ben impatiently pulled open the drawer. But the smile froze as he continued to dig through the contents. He swore. Slammed the door shut. Looked through another drawer. Then another. He threw out his hands in a gesture to indicate emptiness.

‘None. No protection. You got any?’ His voice was a burr of frustration and anger and something that could have been despair.

‘No. I...uh...don’t carry it with me.’

She’d had no use for protection for a long time. Seemed as if Ben was in the same boat.

He strode back and sat on the bed next to her. He smoothed back a lock of hair that had drifted across her cheek in a caress that was both gentle and sensual.

‘I want you so much. But I won’t risk getting you pregnant.’

An unplanned pregnancy wasn’t on her agenda either. No way would she suggest taking that risk, much as she yearned for him. ‘I’m not on the pill. S...sorry.’

‘Why should you apologise?’ He groaned. ‘I should have—’

‘Could we...could we go buy some?’ As soon as the words were out of her mouth she knew that was a ridiculous idea. Ben acknowledged it with a grim smile. No doubt some busybody citizen of Dolphin Bay would be behind the counter at the pharmacy and only too eager to broadcast the news that Ben and his old girlfriend were in need of contraceptives.

‘Okay...bad idea.’ She didn’t know what else she could say.

Ben’s handsome face was contorted with frustration, his voice underscored with anguish. ‘Sandy. You have to know I won’t be a father again. Won’t have another child. Not after what happened to my little boy. Can’t risk that loss...that pain.’

Oh, Ben. Her heart felt as if it was tearing in sorrow for him, for the losses she couldn’t even begin to imagine.

‘I...I understand,’ she stuttered. But did she? Could she ever comprehend the agony he felt at losing his child? ‘D...do you want to talk about it?’

He shifted his body further from her. But more than a physical distance loomed between them. He took a deep, shuddering breath.

‘You have a right to know why I feel this way.’

‘Of course,’ she murmured.

‘When my mother knew Liam was on the way she told me that I wouldn’t know what love was until I held my first child in my arms. I scoffed at her. I thought I knew what it was to love.’

‘Lizzie said something similar after Amy was born.’

Ben swallowed hard. It must be agony for him to relive his memories.

‘A father’s love—it was so unexpected. So overwhelming. My mother was right. I would have done anything for my son.’

‘Of course you would have,’ she murmured, feeling helpless. She didn’t know what to say—a thirty-year-old single whose only experience of loving a child was her niece.

‘Changing nappies. Getting up at all hours of the night the minute I heard a whimper. Rocking him in my arms for hours to soothe him when he was teething. I did all that. But...but I couldn’t save his life.’

Survivor’s guilt. Post-traumatic stress. Labels she thought might apply—but what did she know about how to help him?

‘Ben, you’re carrying a big burden. Did you have counselling to help you come to terms with your loss?’

As soon as the question left her mouth she knew it was a mistake. Ben so obviously hadn’t come to terms with it.

His eyes were as bleak as a storm-tossed sea. ‘I had counselling. But nothing can change the fact I couldn’t save my baby son. End of story. On the day I buried him I vowed I would never have another child.’

‘Because...because you think you don’t deserve another child?’

‘That too. But I couldn’t bear the agony of loss again.’

She knew it wasn’t the time to say that new life could bring new hope. That there was the possibility of loss any time you put your heart on the line. But how could she possibly understand what he’d gone through? Could she blame him for never wanting to risk finding himself in that unimaginably dark place again?

‘Ben, I’m so sad for you.’ She took his scarred, damaged hand in hers and squeezed it, wanting him to know how much she felt for him but was unable to express. He put his arms around her and pulled her tight. She nestled her face just below his shoulder, against the warm, solid muscle of his chest.

But she was sad for herself, too.

She thought back to her birthday goals. Get married and have lots of kids. Three kids—two girls and a boy.

It was as if Ben had read her mind. ‘Remember how we used to talk about having kids? When were barely more than kids ourselves?’

‘Yes,’ she said. She swallowed hard against the lump of disappointment that threatened to choke her. She’d always seen being a mother in her future. Had never contemplated any other option.

He pulled back from her and she was forced to meet his gaze.

‘So me not wanting kids could be a deal-breaker?’

She had to clear her throat before she answered, trying not to let him guess how shaken she was. ‘Perhaps. For something long-term. But we’re only talking four days, aren’t we? It doesn’t matter for...for a fling.’

‘I guess not. But I wanted to make sure you knew where I stood.’

At the age of thirty she couldn’t afford to waste time on any relationship—no matter how brief—that didn’t have the possibility of children. Knowing that parenthood wasn’t an option for Ben should make her pack up and leave Dolphin Bay right now. But she didn’t have to think further than four days—and nothing could stop her from having this time with Ben. Come what may.

‘I’m sorry, Sandy,’ said Ben. ‘This wasn’t the way I thought things would pan out today.’

‘It doesn’t matter. I...I’ve lost the mood,’ she confessed.

Suddenly she felt self-conscious being naked. With a murmur about being cold she disengaged herself from his arms. Fumbled around on the bed and found her dress. Pulled it over her head without bothering about wasting minutes with her bra. Wiggled into her panties. Found his clothes and handed them to him.

She felt very alone when he turned his back to her and dressed in awkward silence.

She sat on the edge of the bed and wondered how everything could have gone so wrong. ‘Sunny Sandy’, Ben had used to call her. But it was hard to see the glass-half-full side of finding out that he didn’t ever want to have another child. And then there was that photo. How ready was he really to move on to another woman?

* * *

Ben wanted to pound the wall with his fists to vent his frustration and anger. He wanted to swear and curse. To fight his way through raging surf might help, too.

But he could do none of that. Sandy looked so woebegone sitting there, biting on her lip, her arms crossed defensively across her beautiful breasts. He had to control himself. Do anything in his power to reignite her smile.

His revelation that he didn’t want more children had knocked the sunshine out of her. He appreciated how kind she’d been, how understanding, but dismay had shown on her face. But he’d had to put his cards on the table about a future with no children. He couldn’t mislead her on such an important issue. Not that they were talking beyond these four days.