Getting It Right! (6 page)

Thirty minutes later she was in her car, headed toward the waterfront. She had to admit, when Ben had first mentioned Rule Number One, she’d been reluctant to play along. Being at someone’s beck and call wasn’t ordinarily her idea of fun. Odd then that she was finding it so thrilling now. The thrill of the unknown, the idea that she was playing hooky from work, doing something spontaneous and slightly wicked.

And to think she could do it to him, too, April thought with a giddy laugh. Having Ben at her beck and call…oh, my, the possibilities were endless. Come to think of it, he’d looked a little startled at her stipulation, but then he could hardly ask her to do something he wasn’t willing to do himself, now could he? It wasn’t sporting.

As for Rule Number Two…that one puzzled her. She didn’t altogether understand why the subject of their parents was off-limits—aside from her
mean-spirited psychotic mother, April thought, seething all over again.
That
she could completely understand. Statutory rape? Please, she would have been eighteen in a couple of months. It was just like her mother to threaten something so heinous.

Even though the warning had been a legitimate excuse, April couldn’t help but think that there had to have been more to it. Ben had been curiously evasive last night, not necessarily reluctant, but not altogether forthcoming, either. Hell, she’d only learned about the statutory rape issue because he’d let it slip, and she couldn’t help but wonder if there would be more he might unwittingly reveal over the next week.

Furthermore, why on earth would he consider their fathers off-limits? April knew that Ben and his father had had a slight falling-out shortly after their relationship had ended, but she’d always chalked it up to typical teenage behavior. Now she wasn’t so sure. Something about Ben’s demeanor didn’t sit right. She couldn’t exactly put her finger on it, but it sure as hell made her wonder all the same.

Besides, what could
her
father possibly have to do with anything? Her dad might have his faults, but
he’d always been good to Ben’s family, particularly his father. Unable to hold a steady job after Vietnam, her father had given Davy Hayes a permanent home for his family and a steady income. What could Ben possibly find wrong with that? A frown inched its way across her forehead. It just didn’t make any sense. Then again, she could be reading more into Ben’s motives than what was actually there.

At any rate, she would abide by his rules. Quite frankly, she wasn’t interested in discussing their parents this week anyway. April harrumphed. Visions of her disapproving mother and distant father were hardly conducive to getting her orgasm back. So as far as she was concerned, the further they were away from her mind over the next seven days, the better.

As for her shaky history with Ben, she’d said her piece last night. She’d addressed the elephant in the room because she’d been certain that moving forward without letting the other go would have been difficult. Doable, but difficult. Just keeping things on a sexual level and her silly heart disengaged was going to be hard enough.

April knew that she’d never fully gotten over Ben. He’d always been her secret love, that special someone who couldn’t be replaced. She’d moved on, had managed to have normal relation
ships with other men, but he’d always been there in the back of her mind, a ruler by which she measured every other guy.

He’d been special.

And this week with him would either solidify that youthful impression—prove that it wasn’t just her imagination, that he had been the guy of her dreams—or dispel the fantasy once and for all.

Either outcome put her heart in danger.

What was it he’d said last night?
Are you opposed to it becoming more?
Meaning, would you like this to be more than sex? Though she’d given him a guarded, sophisticated answer last night, deep in the place where wishes grew, she did long for it to become more. She couldn’t help it.

But she was no longer the doe-eyed teenager convinced that she’d die without him. She was a self-sufficient single woman who could take care of herself and she was proud of what she’d accomplished. Would she like a man in her life? Sure, so long as it was the
right man.

While it was possible that Ben could be the one for her, it was equally possible that he wasn’t. She’d seen too many women compromise their independence and good sense just for the sake of a ring on their finger. She’d bought her own damned
ring, thank you very much, and it sparkled just as much—if not more—because of it.

No doubt she was worrying about it for nothing. Just because Ben had seemed curious about her feelings for him, for all she knew, he could have been merely feeling her out to avoid a sticky entanglement once she got her orgasm back. A patient rarely saw a doctor after the cure, right? Once things were back to normal, unless they were both interested in pursuing the relationship, there’d be no cause to continue. For whatever reason, she found the idea wholly depressing.

April found a parking place as close to pier eighteen as she could, then shifted into park and tried to shake off her heavy thoughts. She was borrowing trouble, dammit. For the next week all she wanted to think about was letting Ben
whisper
her back from the brink of sexual extinction. She wanted to exercise Rule Number One herself—put
him
at
her
beck and call—and finally, blessedly, have sex with the one guy in the world she’d always wanted to have in her bed.

God, how many times had she fantasized about this? About him? About what it would be like to feel that hard body buried deep within hers? That
hot mouth feeding at her breasts, then between her legs?

Smooth warm skin, hard muscles, the slide of his talented hand over her thigh. Ben, naked and needy and hers.

April let out a shuddering breath as her nipples pearled beneath her dress. That woeful buzz pinged her sex once more, causing her belly to clench with awareness.

And why in the hell was she sitting out here fantasizing about Ben when the genuine article was waiting for her? Sheesh. Irritated, April vaulted from the car. Now that was hardly graceful. With her luck, he was probably watching her again. She needed professional help. She really did.

Muttering angrily under her breath, she followed the walk down to pier eighteen, then started to look for Ben.

She didn’t have to look far…and her anger swiftly turned to astonishment.

Smiling—evidently he had witnessed her graceless exit from the car—Ben stood on the deck of a sailboat. He wore a pair of khaki slacks and a navy-blue cable-knit sweater. He held a couple of empty champagne glasses loosely in one
hand. The afternoon breeze ruffled the ends of his dark hair, and though he was hardly dressed the part, she was strongly reminded of a pirate. A quick glance at the name of the boat—
Shutterbug
—told her that it was his.

Astounded, April grinned up at him. “Permission to come aboard, Captain?”

He eyed her up and down, slowly, thoroughly, until she felt the tops of her thighs warm beneath that intense, slumberous scrutiny. Evidently her little black dress passed muster because she had the privilege of watching those light brown eyes darken into a smoky bedroom hue…a silent invitation to sin. “Permission granted,” he said. “Come aboard.”

Oy. Would that she could be so lucky.

B
EN SET ASIDE
the champagne flutes he’d been holding and offered April a hand up. The instant her palm connected with his, he felt an odd, warm tingling start in his fingers and, eventually, infect his whole body. No matter how many times he touched her—no matter how casual or innocent the contact—he still felt as if he’d been dunked in champagne. It was an altogether unnerving experience, one he equally craved and dreaded.

A smile curling her lush mouth, April climbed aboard and shot him a look that confirmed she’d enjoyed the mystery of Rule Number One as much as he’d thought she would. Those clear green eyes sparkled with excitement and anticipation, and realizing he took credit for them made his chest inflate with a ridiculous amount of pride.

Now would be a good time to say something smooth and romantic—something fantasy wor
thy—yet Ben found himself unable to do either. Instead, he simply stared at her.

She’d uh…She’d definitely taken the “sexy” order to heart, Ben thought, as a blast of heat detonated in his loins. Her long hair was pulled up into a knot of curls, exposing the vulnerable nape of her neck and showcasing the sweet curve of her jaw. With the exception of her lips, which were painted a shockingly sensual red, she’d kept her makeup to a minimum, allowing the healthy glow of her skin to shine through.

Then there was the dress. Ben covertly pulled in a gulp of much-needed air, then slowly exhaled through his nose. He could sum it up in three words.

Short. Tight. Black.

Wait, make that four—
hot
.

The stretchy fabric clung to her body and accentuated each and every curve. The lush mounds of her breasts, the small indentation of her waist and the gentle swell of her womanly hips. April was all woman, firm where she should be firm and soft where she should be soft. By Hollywood standards she’d be considered overweight, but there was absolutely nothing fat about her. Soft and lush, her form was reminiscent of a forties
pinup model. His gaze traveled the length of her, stopping long enough to appreciate her toned legs, then rested at her feet.

His lips quirked. “Nice shoes.”

She dimpled. “But hardly practical. I didn’t know you sail.”

“Practical is overrated,” he said. “Especially when you look that hot.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek and blushed adorably. “I don’t know how hot I’m going to look when we’re out on the water. I didn’t bring a coat.”

Ben chuckled softly, then looked out over the harbor. “Trust me, you’re not going to need one.”

She raised an exaggerated brow, then laughed. “So,” she said, blowing out an expectant breath. “Where are we going?”

Ben calmly filled a flute and handed it to her. “Don’t worry about it. You’re just along for the ride.”

She cocked her head. “Is that right?”

“It is.” He gestured toward a seat for her, then began to loosen the moorings. “Have you ever seen New Orleans from the water at night? Ever watched her glow alive with neon and light?”

April shook her head. He could feel her gaze on him as he worked, peering intently, as though
trying to absorb his secrets. He’d better be careful. If she looked too closely she’d discover that he was still head over heels in love with her. The admission wasn’t an easy one, but after last night—that single soul-shattering kiss—he’d had to admit it. At least to himself, at any rate.

Ben glanced up at her. “Then you’re in for a treat.”

Twenty minutes later they were out in the harbor, cruising along at a steady clip. April’s hair had quickly come loose from its up-do, causing curly stands to whip away from her face. She wore a perpetual smile, let the kiss of the evening chill blow over her face. Occasionally she’d take a sip of her champagne, but for the most part she looked content to simply enjoy the ride.

Ben found his favorite spot, then dropped anchor. He made a quick trip to the galley, then came back up with a wicker basket laden with a fruit and cheese spread. He settled in next to April—close enough to keep her warm, as he’d promised—and handed her a china plate.

“Blue Willow,” she said, eyeing the dish appreciatively.

“It was my grandmother’s. She believed in using the good stuff all the time.”

April selected a few strawberries and a small bunch of grapes. “Wise woman, your grandmother. I firmly believe in using the good stuff, too.”

Ben stacked a piece of cheese on top of an apple wedge, then shot her a smile. “As evidenced by your shoes.”

“Hey,” she said, her voice rife with mock indignation, “these are my only pair of Pucci shoes.”

“And you wore them for me?”

“No,” she replied with a haughty sniff. “I wore them for me. You said sexy.” She lifted her foot and turned it this way and that, admiring the style. “And you’ve got to admit, these are sexy shoes.” She put her foot down and resumed eating.

Ben felt a chuckle vibrate in the back of his throat. “They are. On you,” he added softly.

Her lips twitched with the effort not to smile. “So when did you start sailing?” she asked. “Is the
Shutterbug
a recent acquisition or have you had her awhile?”

“I’ve had her awhile. A couple of years.”

“So why the sudden interest?”

Ben took a sip of his drink, relaxed more fully against the seat…and purposely into her. “A client, actually. I was commissioned to take pictures of his waterfront home and he insisted the best
shots could be achieved from the water. He was right, by the way,” Ben added. “At any rate, he had a thirty-one-footer, much like this one, and I got the bug.” He shrugged. “I loved it, being out on the water, harnessing the wind.” He looked back toward the ever-changing shoreline and let go a small sigh. “It’s peaceful, don’t you think?”

Beside him he sensed April following his gaze. He felt her body deflate with a soft breath as she took in the various lights beginning to define the city’s skyline. Within a matter of minutes, dusk would make way for darkness and the whole town would be glowing before them. Ben didn’t speak, but waited for that moment. He slid an arm around her shoulders, tucking her more tightly against him, then absently doodled on her upper arm with his fingertip through the slinky fabric of her dress. The waves lapped at the hull, creating an intimate music around them.

Finally, darkness fell and the city shone like a kaleidoscopic jewel nestled against the riverbank. April’s breath caught and she uttered a single “oh” of delighted pleasure.

Ben’s own breath stalled as her joy mushroomed inside him. Being here with her, feeling the gentle rise and fall of her shoulder next to him,
the warmth of her body—her very essence—had to be one of the most perfect things he’d ever experienced. It had been so long since he’d enjoyed anything close to genuine happiness, it took him several seconds to make the connection.

He leaned in and nuzzled her neck, absorbing her scent, something sweet and musky and only hers. Gratifyingly, she shivered, and inclined her head to give him better access.

Aha. He had her, Ben thought. Time to put her proper seduction into motion. The sooner she was primed, the sooner he’d be able to ease the ache in his loins, and more importantly, hers. That’s what this was about, he reminded himself.

Her.

And he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt she’d be more than worth it.

A
PRIL’S EYES DRIFTED SHUT
, momentarily blinding her to the New Orleans night sky, but making her aware in an altogether more intimate way. Though she couldn’t actually see Ben kissing her neck with her eyes, she could too easily picture him in her mind, those beautifully sculpted lips leisurely sampling hers.

In her mind’s eye, she could see those wonder
fully masculine hands—hands that had so competently worked the sails this evening, powering them out into this magical night—pushing into her hair, kneading her scalp. Every nerve ending in her body purred with pleasure and she could slowly but surely feel her brain turning to mush right along with her bones.

“God, you smell good,” he murmured softly, his voice a deep intimate drawl. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head. I even dreamed about you last night.”

“Y-you did?”

“I did.” He slid his hot tongue around the shell of her ear, eliciting another shivering quake. “I opened my back door and there you were. You were wearing a long sheer gown…with nothing underneath. I could see you, all of you, and you were—” he let out a reverent sigh “—stunning.”

Mama mia,
April thought. If this was what it felt like to be charmed by
The Vagina Whisperer
, then she was in for one helluva treat. Ben’s voice wound around her, lulling her cognitive senses while masterfully inflaming others. They were in their own little world—one of his making—embraced by a night backlit by stars and lights. And
true to his word, she wasn’t cold. In fact, every particle in her being had warmed with startling rapidity.

“Did you dream of me?” he murmured, gently turning her head so that he could kiss her lids.

April nodded. “Mine are always waking dreams,” she confessed. “I, uh…I had one in the car on the way over here.”

Ben’s chuckle vibrated against her lashes. “Good. I want you to think of me, to fantasize about me…and what I’m going to do to you.”

April squirmed closer to him, framed his face with her hands and found his lips. The kiss was warm and languid, like the sound of his voice. His tongue pushed into her mouth, curled around hers—back and forth, back and forth—mimicking an intimate dance she longed to feel in her lower extremities. Extremities that were slowly but surely awakening beneath his expert touch.

Though she couldn’t claim the deep throb of awareness that usually preceded an orgasm, she could feel a tingling warmth seeping into her sex. The seed of an orgasm taking root.

Ben deepened the kiss, then slowly drew her into his lap until she straddled him. She could feel the hot ridge of his arousal beneath her, settled
firmly between her legs and the joy that bolted through her almost made her cry out.

What remained of her patience snapped and she rocked against him, desperate to feel the weight of his sex anchored deeply inside her. She didn’t care if she had an orgasm on not. She just wanted to be as close to him as possible.

Ben clamped his hands on her hips, forcing her to still. “Patience,” he whispered with a tortured laugh.

She tugged at the hem of his sweater, tunneled her hands beneath it until she found hard muscle and warm skin. Ben’s belly quivered beneath her touch. She smiled against his lips. “I don’t want to be patient.”

“Rushing it isn’t going to help you, babe.”

Logically she knew that, but her body wasn’t in agreement. In fact, her body burned.

It ached.

It needed.

But most importantly, it recognized that Ben was the one man who was going to be able to put her out of her misery, that he alone could lead her to the mountaintop, then cross over it with her.

“You came to me for help,” he whispered softly, trailing kisses along her jaw. “Let me. Let
me
love
you
. Just let go. Stop trying so hard. It’ll come. I promise.”

Let me love you.
Though she knew he didn’t mean it literally—as in, emotionally—the words moved her all the same. Her silly heart melted and her resistance right along with it. Her tautened muscles relaxed and she slumped against him, content to let him…love her. He sighed softly and, for whatever reason, that gentle breath whispered over her soul.

Ben stroked her back. Lazily trailed his fingers alongside her spine, up and down. Straight lines, small circles, zigzags. “I love the way you feel in my arms,” he said. “Soft. Supple. Womanly.”

She loved the way it felt being in his arms. Secure yet dangerous, an odd combination for sure, but there was something slightly thrilling about it all the same.

His fingers gradually found their way back into her hair. He kneaded and massaged, swirled and rubbed, forcing her to relax, April realized. Making her aware of erogenous zones she’d never considered. The small of her back, the curve of the hairline behind her ear. He was learning her, committing to memory every response, and the idea that he was so thoroughly into what he was doing
to increase her pleasure was intoxicating in and of itself.

Quite frankly, though she’d had a few decent lovers over the years, she’d never been with anyone who was interested in knowing her body well enough to customize their sex. It was the same-old same-old song and dance. Nipples, clit, nipples, clit, a little oral thrown in for good measure, then usually ten minutes of hot and heavy full-blown sex. Satisfying? Until eighteen months ago, yes.

But she highly suspected it wouldn’t be anymore. Not after Ben.

This was the difference, April thought, as realization struck.
This
was how he’d earned his nickname.

He wrapped both arms around her, pressed her closer, then nipped lightly at her earlobe. Little lights danced behind her closed lids and the breath echoed out of her lungs.

Sweet mercy.

Now that had been done before, but evidently not correctly because she’d never felt a shiver hard enough to rattle her insides.

“Ah,” Ben said, his voice low and intimate. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Liked that, did you?”

“Y-yes.”

“Then think of how much you’ll like it when I’m inside you.”

Her breath hitched, but before she could exhale, he caught it in his own mouth, kissing her deeply. God, he tasted good. Lingering champagne, sweet fruit and sharp cheese. A feast for the senses. April cupped his jaw, loving the way he felt beneath her palms. Smooth skin with a hint of masculine stubble.

Ben’s hands had found their way to her waist, then moved upward in a slow trek that made her nipples pebble inside her dress. She shifted, hoping to push one aching breast into his palm and, though she felt the slightest hesitation—one that told her this, too, should wait—Ben’s warm palm cupped her in a surrender that made her belly clench in a knot of delight.

She heard him swear softly, then he deftly moved the neck of her dress aside, shifting the fabric so that he could more readily feel her. His thumb found her nipple with alarming accuracy, snatching the breath out of her lungs.