Текст книги "Tempt Me If You Can"

Автор книги: Джанет Чапмен

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

Chapter Ten

“G ive me your coat, and I’ll hang it up and get us some paper cups. Want something from the concession stand?”

Emma fingered the top button on her coat. The dance was being held in the fire station. They had moved out the trucks and decorated the building—tables had been placed along the walls, the lights were turned down, and a band was set up against the side wall. Emma had chosen a table way back in the corner, where it was hopefully dark enough for people not to recognize either of them.

“I’ll keep it on a little while. I’m chilled.”

Her escort lifted one brow. “What are you hiding under there, Emma?” He looked down at her bright red shoes and sheer-hosed legs. “I’m getting curious.”

She opened the cooler they had brought and waved him away. “Go get some cups and some ice. I’m not hungry yet.”

After Ben walked off, she unbuttoned her coat, threw it over a chair, then arranged Greta’s shawl, making sure she was covered from her neck to her waist.

What had possessed her to wear this dress?

She had two other dresses that were far more modest, but the devil-fairy had returned this afternoon.

“I want to talk to you.”

Emma looked up to find Wayne Poulin looming over her, and he didn’t look like he was planning to ask her to dance. “Hi, Wayne. What’s up?”

He placed his hands on the table and leaned over, attempting to look intimidating. But she had never been afraid of Wayne Poulin, and she wasn’t about to start now.

“I want you to keep that kid away from me.”

That surprised her. “I doubt Mikey wants to be anywhere near you, Wayne. So I don’t see the problem.”

“He was in my room today. When I got home from work tonight, that kid was just leaving Greta’s. And when I got up to my room, I realized someone had been in it. Snooping.”

“I was in your room.” Emma stood up, forcing him to straighten to look her level in the face. “I brought up your laundry for Greta and dusted a bit.”

His eyes narrowed to slits. “You did more than dust.”

Emma shrugged. “I probably moved a few things while cleaning. Sorry.”

“What were you looking for?” Wayne crossed his arms over his chest. His gaze traveled up and down her, and his eyes gleamed. “You’re looking a lot like your sister this evening, Emma Jean. Why’s that? You got a hot date tonight?”

“The lady has a possessive date tonight, Poulin. So I suggest you move along.”

Wayne Poulin swung around with a start. Emma saw his eyes widen when he recognized the speaker, and he had to tilt his head up as he took a step back.

“Sinclair!”

Ben set an ice bucket and a plastic cup on the table. He towered over Wayne by a good foot, and seeing them together face-to-face, Emma realized what she had known all along.

Benjamin Sinclair was not only tall, he was solid: the type of man who would never run from a problem. When he had left Medicine Gore sixteen years ago, he hadn’t abandoned a pregnant girl—he had merely walked away from a disastrous love affair. Nothing could have dragged Ben from his child then, and a whole town full of animosity wouldn’t be able to now.

Wayne had said Ben’s name loud enough for the nearby tables to hear. People were turning. Conversations had ceased. And whispers arose all around them.

With a feeling of doom, Emma watched the men face each other. Wayne stood defensively, his hands balled into fists, his shoulders rigid, and his eyes cold. Ben appeared relaxed, but Emma knew he was ready for any attack, verbal or physical.

“Wayne was just thanking me for bringing up his laundry,” she said into the silence. “I was helping Greta.”

“Who’s Greta?” Ben asked. He was looking at her, but Emma knew his attention was still firmly on Wayne.

“She owns the boardinghouse in town. She practically raised Kelly and me.”

“Greta Lavoie,” he said, nodding. “I remember now. Kelly took me over to her house for cake several times.”

Emma glared at Ben. He winked back and reached into the cooler. He pulled out a bottle of whiskey and cracked the seal, poured some in a cup of ice, then put the cover back on. Then he pulled out a bottle of beer for himself and looked back at Wayne. “I’d invite you to sit with us, Poulin, but I no longer share my dates.”

Wayne stalked away.

Emma quietly whistled between her teeth. “Are you lookingfor trouble tonight, or just trying to drive me crazy?”

Ben looked up from opening his beer, his gaze going to her shawl, then down to the red dress below it. His eyes stopped at the hem. Emma watched them widen before they rose to her face.

“Did you forget to put on the pants that go with that blouse?” he asked softly.

She tightened the shawl over her chest.

Ben walked around the table and held the back of her chair. “Sit,” he quietly ordered. “And remind me to hold down the back of that dress when we dance.”

“It’s not that short.”

He pulled out the chair beside her and sat down, effectively boxing her in against the wall, setting himself up as guardian of his domain.

Emma snorted just before she took a sip of her drink. He turned and looked at her, and caught her staring at him.

“What was that for?”

“You really are territorial. And either really brave or really dumb. Ben, if you want these people to accept you, you’re going to have to walk the greatest distance. You’re the villain here—not Wayne or Durham or anyone from sixteen years ago.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong. I was a kid on summer break, and I was working for something I believed in. Kelly just … she just happened.”

Aware they were being openly stared at, Emma reached up and touched his sleeve. “I’m not the one you have to convince.”

“Yes, you are. You and Mike. Everyone else can go to hell.”

She brushed at his shoulder. “Oh, Ben. You’re doing a better job of fooling yourself than me. It’s just as important to you that the people here believe you. If not for yourself, then for Mikey.”

He looked at her hand on his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

Emma pulled away and smiled at him. “Nothing. I just thought I saw a piece of moss clinging to you.”

His frown deepened. “I think we should dance.”

There were all of three couples on the dance floor when Ben pulled her to her feet. As soon as they reached the dance floor, his hand went to her back, under the drape of her shawl. It stilled when five calloused fingers and a wide scorching palm met bare skin. He stopped moving his feet to the rhythm of the music. “Don’t you dare take that shawl off tonight, or you’llbe the cause of any war that breaks out.”

Emma started dancing, but she had to shove Ben to get him moving again. “If you think the back’s bad, you should see the front,” she whispered, only to have his arms tighten around her with enough force to make her squeak.

“Oh, cut it out,” she said with a laugh. “I’m sure you’ve escorted plenty of women who’ve worn a lot less.”

His hand dropped low on her back, pulling her closer. Emma gasped when her belly came into contact with his arousal.

“Don’t act so shocked,” he whispered, moving them gracefully through the waltz. “This happens every time I get close to you.”

“Everyone’s staring at us,” she hissed.

“Then I suggest you cuddle closer if you don’t want them knowing how you affect me.”

“All hell could break loose any minute, and you’re turned on?”

He leaned back to stare down at her. “That was your plan, wasn’t it? To distract me—and probably your friends—from the real issue?”

Emma glared up at him. “I don’t know whyI bought this damn dress. I must have had a brain cramp this morning.”

“And another one this evening, when you put it on? And then fixed up your hair? And slipped into those heels?” He slashed her a feral grin. “At least you had the sense to wear the shawl.”

Emma leaned her forehead into his shoulder and sighed. “Yes, I still possess some semblance of sanity.”

The song ended and Ben spun her around and nudged her toward their table. “I need a beer.”

“Sinclair.”

Emma turned at the guttural sound. She tried to step around Ben to see who had called his name, but his arm came out and stopped her. Holding her firmly, Ben stood and waited as the four men approached.

The band didn’t start up another song. The musicians, along with everyone else, silently stared as Durham Bragg, John LeBlanc, Wayne Poulin, and Galen Simms stopped two yards in front of Ben and Emma.

Durham looked over at her. “Move away from him, Emma.”

Ben gently pushed her away, his eyes never leaving his adversaries.

Emma stepped to the side and stopped, crossing her arms under her chest. “This is neither the time nor the place for this, Durham,” she told him.

“I knew I recognized you, Sinclair.” He shook his head. “You wouldn’t have walked away two weeks ago if I had known who you were then.”

“You spiked the trees,” John LeBlanc accused from beside Durham. “You’ve come back, bringing even more trouble with you this time.”

“I’m here for my son,” Ben said, his voice laced with steel.

Wayne stepped closer. “You’re welcome to take the little bastard and leave.”

Other than balling his hands into fists, Ben didn’t react.

“He’s wanting to ruin another Sands first,” Galen Simms added, and the four men took a collective step forward.

Emma quickly moved between them and Ben.

“You don’t have your shotgun this time, missy,” Durham hissed.

Ben’s powerful hands grabbed her shoulders and all but lifted her out of the way. Emma turned and looked up into the hard gray eyes of a man not pleased with her action. She slipped free of his grip and moved back in front of the men, out of Ben’s reach.

But he didn’t grab for her again, and Emma realized that Durham and John and Wayne and Galen were staring at her, their expressions turned from anger to shock. She looked back and understood why. Ben was holding her shawl in his hands.

Well, she certainly had everyone’s attention now.

“For the record, gentlemen,” she said, raising her voice to include the rest of the townspeople. “Benjamin Sinclair did not blow up the dam and kill my father. He didn’t even know about any plans to do so.” She lifted her arms and let them fall back against her sides. “Do any of you honestly believe I would let him in my home if I thought he was responsible for my father’s death?”

“You’re so blinded by your love for Michael, you probably would,” Durham said.

Emma pointed her finger at him. “Mikey knows Ben didn’t kill his grandfather. And I know it. Sheriff Ramsey did everything in his power to find the ones responsible. Even the FBI investigated, and theycouldn’t come up with a suspect. Every living, breathing male within fifty miles of Medicine Gore was questioned. Every tree hugger who had set foot in Maine that month was questioned. Including Benjamin Sinclair.”

“How do you know that?” Wayne asked.

“I read all their reports. It was myfather who died, and they kept Kelly and me informed.”

The men looked past her, as if expecting Ben to confirm her story. Durham was looking thoughtful, as was John LeBlanc. Galen wasn’t budging from his angry expression, and Wayne Poulin looked even more hostile than before.

But then, he had more reason to hate Ben.

“Every one of you has spent the last sixteen years focused on Benjamin Sinclair, blaming him for my father’s death. If you had turned all the energy you’ve spent hating Ben into finding the men who actually did it, we could have had a conviction years ago.”

“How can you be so sure?” Durham asked.

“She’s sleeping with the bastard,” Galen said, pointing at her.

“I am not!” She glared at all the men, daring them to utter another word.

“That’s enough,” Ben growled. Emma flinched when her shawl dropped over her shoulders, then she was suddenly imprisoned between iron-hard arms and an unmovable granite chest. “What you think, Simms, doesn’t mean jack shit,” Ben continued. “But she is right about one thing. Whoever blew up that dam has gotten away with it, and I intend to find him. You can help me or you can stay the hell out of my way—I really don’t give a damn. But understand that your hostility is directed at me. Not Emma, and not Michael.”

Stark, absolute silence followed.

“What makes you think you can find him after sixteen years, when the FBI couldn’t?” John LeBlanc finally asked.

“I’m more motivated,” Ben said.

“Whoever blew up that dam is long gone,” Wayne said, his eyes narrowing. “Better you just take your son and leave.”

“I have no intention of leaving.”

Ben’s anger was palpable, vibrating through Emma’s entire body. She walked out of his arms and back to their table, where she opened the cooler and started repacking.

“We’re not leaving,” Ben said, coming up beside her.

She reached for her coat. “You’re welcome to stay, but I’m going home.”

A nasty word rumbled across the table as Ben picked up her coat and held it up for her.

“We are not going home,” he told her through gritted teeth. He picked up the cooler, put his hand at her back, and ushered her past the stunned, staring faces of people who were supposed to be her friends. Her head held high, Emma mentally steeled herself for another scorching lecture.

But she understood male posturing. As she did with Mikey, she would simply smile and nod at Ben, swear she would act more wisely, then go on doing whatever she had to in order to keep the peace.

Ben placed the cooler inside the Suburban, slammed the door shut, then turned. Emma took a cautious step back. He looked madder than Mikey ever got, and far more intimidating than her father ever had.

“Don’t ever step between me and danger again, Emma. There is a fine line between bravery and recklessness, and you crossed it tonight. Poulin and Simms were ready to explode, and neither man cared that you were in the middle.” His hands tightened on her shoulders. “Contrary to what you think, you’re not ten feet tall and bulletproof. You could have gotten hurt.”

“So could a lot of innocent people. I stopped a brawl from breaking out.”

“Stepping between angry men is never smart. It was sheer luck tonight that they backed down.”

She frowned. “There wasn’t an ounce of luck involved. I know these people. Durham wouldn’t have let anything happen to me.”

“I can fight my own battles.”

“You weren’t doing a very good job of it when I first found you.”

He hauled her up against his chest, his arms wrapping around her like a vise, and Emma felt his chest expand as he blew out a sigh.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Emma. I’ve finally been given a gift from God, but I will be too insane to enjoy it.” He tugged her head back, lifting her face to look at him, pulling at her hair until it fell down her back. “I may lose a few of the battles, but I willwin this war, Emma Jean. And there can’t be two generals on the field.”

“I wasn’t trying to protect you; I just didn’t want any trouble. And I figured they would listen to me,” she quickly added when he took a deep breath to scold her again.

He sighed instead. “The point I’m trying to drive into that stubborn little head of yours is that you could have gotten hurt tonight.”

She shot him a sudden smile. “Is your ego strong enough to go back inside and let me take off my shawl for the rest of the dance?”

Sounding more like a mountain lion than a man, he growled deep in his chest as his mouth descended on hers. He was not gentle and she didn’t expect him to be. Anger and fear and the threat of violence often turned into passion for men, especially when the object of their frustration was within reach. And she reveled in it.

It appeared he might really like her.

And damn if she wasn’t liking him back.

Emma wrapped her arms around his neck, yielding against him as she coaxed a different response. Slowly, almost reluctantly, his arms loosened until she could breathe again, and his grip relaxed into a caress.

He sighed into her mouth as he slid his hand down to cup her bottom. And again she felt the evidence of his desire.

There was a fire slowly kindling in her as she let him lift her closer still, allowing her to wage her own assault. She explored the texture of his mouth, his hair beneath her hands, his heat that radiated clear through her coat. Even his smell enveloped her. He tasted of beer and delicious male essence, and Emma soon became drunk on him.

He broke away, sucking in a shaky breath. Every muscle she was clinging to felt like granite. Her head was spinning and everything had gone black except for the flashes of light swirling in her head.

“Open your eyes, Em.”

That helped. Until she looked up at his face. She got dizzy again when her gaze locked on his, and she had to dig her fingers into his jacket to steady herself.

“If I take you home now, I’m going to lock us both in your bedroom. Then I’m going to strip off that dress and make love to you for two days straight.”

How classic. Give a man a kiss, and he starts talking about bed. “Do I have another option?”

“We can walk across the street to the diner, and I’ll buy you a meal first.”

To fortify her for their lovemaking? How thoughtful.

But she wasn’t ready to give her passion, to experience sexual bliss with the man she had loved since adolescence. What good would come of taking him into her bed and body when he intended to walk out of her life in two months with her nephew?

“I’m about to take you on the hood of this truck, if you don’t decide soon.”

Emma could feel the tension humming through him. And he thought she had been in danger at the dance?

“Dinner.”

He looked momentarily confused, then his face darkened. Suddenly he released her, grabbed her hand, and started pulling her across the street.

Emma stifled a snort. Undentable ego, hah! She smiled, hoping the diner was warm and toasty, because she intended to take off her shawl to eat.

Chapter Eleven

T he little witch hadtaken off her shawl in the diner. Ben shook his head as he escorted his date back to his truck. She had stuffed herself with potatoes and coleslaw and a hamburger that would have choked a horse. Then she’d followed everything with a monstrous dessert that had far more icing than cake.

Hehadn’t been able to swallow a thing.

Her coat was now buttoned up to her chin, thank God. Hopefully he would find the strength to take her home and leave her at her door.

That bright red dress was only slightly higher in the front than the back. And she was wearing a long string of pearls that nicely teased the top curve of her breasts.

Stunning breasts—full and soft—and she clearly wasn’t wearing a bra.

“A cold front’s moved in,” she said, her breath fogging in the chilly air.

Cold front? He was hotter than a teenager in a whorehouse with a hundred-dollar bill.

“The dance is still going strong. You want to go back in?” he asked, stopping beside his truck.

“No. I think we should call it a night.”

Something in her voice sounded odd—almost like fear. Emma Sands, the shotgun-carrying, night-flying spitfire, was afraid. But not of him—not exactly.

Maybe she feared the emotional danger he presented. Maybe the fact that she erupted like a long-dormant volcano every time they kissed scared the hell out of her.

Ben opened her door to his truck. “I’ll take you home, kiss you good night, and see you tomorrow.”

Wide, questioning green eyes looked up at him, and a sigh of relief escaped her as she turned to climb into the truck. Ben softly closed the door and walked around and climbed in his side of the truck.

“The evening wasn’t a total waste,” she said as he buckled his belt.

“Not for you. Your belly’s full enough to last you the winter.”

She smiled at him. “Thank you for dinner, but I meant the dance wasn’t a waste. You accomplished a lot tonight.”

He gave his attention to pulling out of the crowded parking lot. “How’s that?”

“You finally came into town, were recognized, and faced your accusers. Everyone is going home tonight with something to think about. And since they all know you’re here, you won’t have to stay hidden at Medicine Creek Camps any longer.”

That made him frown. “I wasn’t hiding.”

She waved that away. “Now when you come into town, there won’t be an ugly scene. You won’t catch anyone by surprise and they won’t be so hostile.”

“So that’s why you agreed to come tonight? You wanted to be there for my grand reunion with Medicine Gore, so you could run interference?”

She lifted her chin. “I just wanted to go to a dance. It’s been years since I attended one.”

Ben blew out a tired breath. Arguing with Emma was an exercise in futility. “And now you think everything’s fine?”

“No, they’ll still be suspicious. But they’ll also be more open-minded.”

“Because of your resounding endorsement?”

“Because I gave them cold, hard facts to think about.” Ben saw her lift her chin again. “And yes, because they know me. They know I wouldn’t be caught dead with you if I thought you were responsible for killing my father.”

“And what about Kelly? Will they forgive me for abandoning her and Mike?”

“Probably not. Although they won’t put all the blame on you. Kelly was … well, she was known for being a bit … impulsive.” She turned in her seat and touched his sleeve. “They’re good people, Ben. They just need time for the truth to sink in.”

He looked down at her hand. It was a feminine hand, despite the short nails and calluses he knew were there. It was a strong hand, capable of holding a gun, of coaxing a plane into unthinkable flight, and of inciting his lust to new heights with the gentlest of touches.

“God, Emma, you overwhelm me,” he said, covering her hand with his.

She squeaked and pulled back as if he had burned her. Ben opened his mouth to reassure her that she was safe for tonight, but one of the red idiot lights on the dash suddenly blinked on.

“Damn.” He immediately shut off the engine, then let the truck coast to the shoulder of the road.

“What’s the matter?”

“The oil light just came on.” He put the truck in park, turned to her, and caught her smiling at him. “What’s so funny?”

“This is what you get for spending a fortune for a sissified truck.”

“Sissified?”

She waved her hand around the interior. “This isn’t a real truck; it’s a station wagon disguised as one. It’s got leather seats and more frills than a Victorian teahouse,” she added as she dropped her visor and opened the mirror. A set of lights automatically turned on. Ben heard a soft whir, and Emma seemed to magically rise in her seat. “It’s a yuppy vehicle.”

“I bought it for us.”

“Us?”

“I thought the three of us could take a trip down to the coast some weekend,” he told her as she magically descended back into position. “I want Mike to meet my older brother, Sam. He lives in Keelstone Cove.”

She sobered. “Oh. Mike would love that.”

“Only we’re not even going to make it home, much less to the coast,” he said as he opened his door, releasing the hood and stepping out. He heard Emma’s door open also. “Be careful near that ditch,” he warned, remembering she was wearing heels.

There was a short scream, a rustling of bushes, and then muffled grumbling from the other side of the truck. It took him no more than a second to reach her, but Emma was already struggling to her feet. Her long hair had got caught on a bush and she muttered a word that made him grin.

“Don’t you dare say a thing,” she hissed. The interior lights of the truck were bright enough for Ben to see her glare at him while she tugged on her hair.

“Let me get that,” he said, reaching down to free her. “Emma, a lady is supposed to wait in the car when there’s trouble,” he said, shaking his head at the mess she’d made of herself.

“Thank you, Emily Post,” she snapped. She grabbed his pant leg—much too high for comfort—and tried to pull herself up out of the ditch.

Ben reached under her arms and hauled her to her feet, and didn’t let go until he had her seated in the truck. One hand on the door, the other on the roof, he stood and watched as she pulled down the visor again and opened the lighted mirror she had just scoffed at. She ran her fingers through her hair, then brushed at a bit of dirt on her cheek. “What’s wrong with the truck?”

“How in hell am I supposed to know? Have you looked under the hood of one of these things lately?”

She nodded. “My new truck has more technology under its hood than the space shuttle. So what do we do?”

Ben reached into his jacket and pulled out his cell phone. “We call for a tow.”

She peered out at the surrounding black woods. “I don’t think we’re within range, Ben. Medicine Gore is on the fringe of service, and we’re a good five miles past that.”

“The fringe of civilization, you mean,” he muttered, opening his phone and checking for a signal. The little red light flashed up at him with depressing regularity. He looked up and down the road, finding nothing but black emptiness in each direction. “Then you will sit tight and I’ll go for a walk. Which direction is shortest?”

“We’re closer to Medicine Gore than home, but I’m going with you.”

“Afraid I’ll get lost again, madam guide?”

“I don’t think we should separate. Someone might be lurking in the shadows, waiting for you.”

He sobered. “You think this was deliberate?”

“New trucks don’t just lose oil all of a sudden.”

He cursed. “But you can’t possibly walk in those shoes, Emma. You’ll break your neck.”

“I never leave the house unprepared. I tossed my sneakers into the back before we left. I’ve ended up walking more than once from a broken truck.”

“That’s right. Didn’t Mike ask if you had run your truck into a creek again,the day you found me?”

“It was either that or run into a moose,” she said, trying to jump down.

Ben grabbed her before she could go tumbling into the ditch again and sat her back up on the seat. “I’ll get your shoes for you.” He walked to the back of the truck, straining to see into the darkness behind them. Emma was probably right. Someone had tampered with the truck while they had been in the diner.

Poulin, most likely.

Of all the men, he appeared to be the greatest threat. Poulin would have no problem stranding them both in the middle of the woods on a cold night, and Ben made a mental note to keep an eye on Wayne in the future.

He opened the tailgate door and found a small bag sitting there.

“Here. What else have you got in there?” he asked, handing her the bag.

“A flashlight, a compact survival kit, and a package of Elmer Fudge cookies.”

“All the necessities,” he said with a chuckle. “How far to home?”

“Only eight miles.”

“Eight!”

She stopped rummaging around in the bag and looked at him. “That’s by road. We could cut cross-country and be there in five.”

He shook his head. “Not unless you packed some pants in that bag.” He blew out a breath and watched it steam up into the night. “If we stick to the road, we may get a ride.” He looked at his watch. “The dance should be breaking up soon.”

“Galen lives out this way.”

“He probably helped Poulin ruin my truck.”

“What makes you think Wayne did it?”

“Any other likely suspects?”

“No.” She finished tying her sneakers and tossed her red shoes in the backseat before she jumped down. She was much steadier on her feet this time, and Ben saw the Maine Guide in her return.

Too bad. He already missed the unschooled vixen she’d been tonight, with her hair done up to expose her neck and her blush of red lipstick that had disappeared with her meal.

But he still intended to steal that dress and hide it until their honeymoon.

They walked in companionable silence for the first few minutes, and Ben realized he was happy. No matter that his truck had been sabotaged, or that the entire town of Medicine Gore distrusted him, or even that he was sexually frustrated by the woman walking beside him. He liked it here.

He enjoyed the sense of wonder and grandeur of these woods. He liked the overflowing emptiness of the land. He was even getting used to the unpredictable weather.

“I can’t imagine wanting to leave here to go study the ocean,” he said into the silence. “Is that what you really want to do, Emma?”

“I don’t honestly know,” she answered. “Sometimes I just wish that I had the choice.”

“You’ve always had the choice. You could have sold everything and taken Michael with you.”

She looked over at him, but Ben couldn’t make out her features in the low light of the waning moon. They weren’t using the flashlight because Emma had said it was easier to walk once their eyes were adjusted to the dark.

“I was too scared. It was easier to stay with what I knew rather than venture into the unknown. Especially with Mikey. If I had been alone, well … I don’t know.”

“You love it here. You’ve succeeded in your own right,” he told her.

“I do love it. And I’ll probably never leave,” she agreed.

He folded an arm over her shoulder and pulled her against him, making walking awkward, but she didn’t protest. “Once we’re married, I could even move my base of operations here. Never say never, Em. Maybe we could spend several months of the year here, and the rest at Rosebriar.”

But he was talking to himself, because Emma had stopped three steps back.

“What did you say?” she asked, her voice cracking in disbelief.

What hadhe said? Several months here … move his operations after they … oh, Lord, he’d said the mword out loud.

“You said ‘after we’re married.’”

“Yes. I guess I did.”

She started walking again—in the opposite direction.

Ben ran after her. “Emma. Wait. I know it’s kind of a shock, but …”

Aw, hell. He’d said it, he meant it, and he had to tell her eventually. He grabbed her arm and turned her around to face him. “Emma. I want to marry you.”

“Well, I don’t want to marry you. I don’t ever want to get married.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t ever intend to fall in love.”

“Why the hell not?”

She pulled herself free and started walking again. “Because every person I’ve ever loved has left, one way or another. Even Mikey will be leaving.”

Ben caught her sleeve again, and spun her around, and held her firmly by both arms. “I won’t leave you, Em.”

“You already did.”

“What do you mean? When?”

“Oh, Ben. I had such a crush on you sixteen years ago. I didn’t even care that you were seeing Kelly. I was sure you would come to your senses eventually and notice me.” She looked down at his chest. “I was so sure you would come back, and that I would be grown up enough for you by then.” She looked up at him and the anguish he saw stole his breath. “It wasn’t until Kelly left that I realized you were never coming back. So I simply stopped loving you.”