Christmas on My Mind (12 page)

Next spring, if she was still here and had the money, she would have the rest of the house painted—maybe a light storm gray to cover the dingy siding. For now these touches of color would have to do.

She'd finished the job just in time. The setting sun had left a chill in the wake of its meager warmth. Jess had left the radio on in the house to help her keep track of the time. The local station was broadcasting the six o'clock news. Ben would be picking her up for dinner in less than an hour.

She pounded the lids onto the paint cans and carried everything inside. Today she'd painted only the front and back of the door, leaving the edges for later, so she was able to close it without the paint sticking to the frame. With luck, she'd find time to paint the rest tomorrow, but with Francine moving in, anything could happen.

After turning on the porch light, she stripped down and headed for the shower. She'd worn latex gloves and old clothes but still managed to be splotched with green and teal paint. She scrubbed off the colors as best she could and washed her hair.

She was hungry and should've been looking forward to dinner. But the thought of being stuck there, answering any question Ben chose to ask her, sent her stomach into flip-flops. Maybe she was nervous for nothing. Maybe all the man wanted was a tasty meal, some pleasant conversation, and a few good-night kisses at the door. But knowing Ben, she'd wager against it. The sheriff, she sensed, was a man with an agenda.

Since she'd left Kansas City only with what she could load in her car, she'd had to abandon most of her clothes—not that they were worth missing. She'd kept just two dresses—a prim navy blue shirtdress that would do for a church meeting or job interview, and a simple black knit designer sheath she'd bought at a consignment shop and loved too much to leave behind. The draped bodice revealed a hint of cleavage without being immodest, the above-knee length showing just enough leg in the fishnet tights that had been a splurge back in Kansas City.

In her room, she held up the black dress, recalling how confident she'd always felt in it. If ever she'd needed confidence, it was tonight. Ben had mentioned he was going to wear jeans, but if she wore the dress with her low-heeled ankle boots and plain silver earrings, she shouldn't look too dressy.

As she pulled up her tights, she suddenly remembered the two gossiping women in the line at Shop Mart. She'd been so busy all afternoon that she'd almost forgotten them. But Ben needed to know about the rumors before they damaged his career. She dreaded the thought that he might have to stop seeing her, but at the very least they would need to be more careful. Of course, if this dinner was the kiss-off, that wouldn't be an issue.

By the time she'd blow-dried her hair and put on her clothes it was nearly seven o'clock. She'd just finished dabbing mascara on her eyelashes when the doorbell rang.

Mindful of the wet paint, she opened the door. Ben stood on the threshold dressed in jeans, boots, a plaid Western shirt and black leather jacket. His hair was still damp from showering, his jaw freshly shaved. He looked as delectable as a hot fudge sundae.

His warm, brown eyes took her in, from her hair to the toes of her boots. “Wow,” he said. “Don't tell me you're the girl who just painted this door.”

She looked down at the hand he extended. The tip of his index finger was green. Jess giggled. “You just had to touch it, didn't you?”

“You could've put up a sign.”

“Would you have paid any attention to it?”

His laugh loosened the knot of nerves inside her. “Let's get your coat,” he said. “I've spent all day imagining a couple of steak dinners with our names on them.”

Jess's quilted coat hung on the wall rack next to the door. Ben held it for her, his knuckles brushing her shoulders as she slipped her arms into the sleeves. “Did I mention you look stunning?” he murmured next to her ear.

Like a light caress, his breath awakened a tingle that spread and deepened. “I hope I'm not overdressed,” she said, recovering. “I could change.”

“You're beautiful. Don't change a thing. Let's go.”

She found the key in her purse and, avoiding the wet paint, locked the door. By now it was dusk. His arm guided her down the uneven sidewalk to his truck, where he opened her door and helped her climb into the passenger seat. He was doing his best to be gallant, but she sensed a thread of tension in his manner. Something was troubling him. Was it her?

As the truck pulled around the corner, onto Main Street with its bright strings of Christmas lights, Jess decided to address the painful issue and get it out of the way. “I overheard something today in Shop Mart,” she began, and told him about the two women. “I almost wish I'd called them out and put them in their places. They were implying terrible things—things that could damage your reputation if they got around.”

“And what about
your
reputation?”

“That too. But I'm not holding public office.” He exhaled slowly. “Jess, this is a small town. There'll always be people looking for something to gossip about. But we're both adults. We haven't done anything wrong, let alone anything illegal. If I want to spend time with an attractive lady, that's nobody's business but yours and mine. As for the way they talked about you . . .” He swung the truck onto the highway. “You're young, you're pretty and you're taking risks. Of course people are going to talk about you. Some of them will even be jealous. Give them time. After a while you'll be old news.”

“I can hardly wait.” Jess gazed out the window into the deepening twilight. At least Ben hadn't been concerned about the gossip. Maybe he was used to it. But what would he do if he knew the truth about her past?

“How's Ethan?” she asked, changing the subject. “Did he have a good time with you this afternoon?”

Ben was silent for a beat. “I hope so. He had a lot on his mind. His mother phoned him while I was at work this morning. She's definitely getting married again—maybe soon, or so Ethan tells me.”

“Is that a good thing—or not?” Jess asked.

“That depends. Ethan doesn't care for the man. Frankly, neither do I. Eastern type, old money. He wants to move Cheryl and Ethan back to Boston where he lives and send Ethan to boarding school—to make a man of the boy, he says.”

Jess recalled what she'd heard about many boarding schools—the loneliness, the discipline, the abuse and bullying, more than enough to break a spirited little boy like Ethan. “But that's awful! What does Ethan's mother have to say about it?”

He shrugged. “I get the impression Cheryl is so smitten with the idea of becoming a Boston society wife that she's ready to do whatever it takes. That's why I'm planning to call her in the morning, try to talk her into letting Ethan live with me. If she digs in her heels, the next step will be getting a good lawyer to challenge the custody agreement. Whatever it costs me, I'm not letting them pack my son off to a place that's not much different from prison.”

“Oh, Ben!” Jess laid a hand on his shoulder, feeling the tight knot of his muscles through his jacket. “I'm so sorry. I wish there was some way I could help.”

“At least you're listening. I can't talk to my mother about this. The worry would make her sick.”

At a loss for words, Jess kept her hand on his shoulder. Ben had just shared a crushing concern. He'd trusted her to listen and understand. It was almost as if he needed her.

That awareness touched Jess more deeply than she could have imagined. What she felt for this man was real and true. But was it enough?

The chemistry was there—the sweet, hot tingles that passed between them with every look, every touch. But chemistry was the easy part. A lasting relationship depended on complete trust and honesty. Unless she could offer him that, she'd be better off walking away now.

The truth was painful, but it had to be faced. If she wanted a chance with Ben, she had to put her heart on the line. She had to tell him about her past—tonight.

She could speak up now and get it over with. But no, Jess reasoned, it would be better to wait. On the way home, after they'd enjoyed a relaxing dinner, she would tell him. By the time they reached her door, Ben would know the whole ugly, sordid story.

What happened after that would be up to him.

Chapter Twelve

S
et back from the highway and sheltered by hundred-year-old cottonwoods, The Trail's End Steakhouse was, in Ben's opinion, the best restaurant in three counties. The rustic, ranch-style log structure was nothing fancy, but it was cozy inside with friendly servers and good food. Tonight Christmas lights framed the big stone fireplace and glowed softly from the open ceiling beams. Christmas songs played low in the background.

As he ushered Jess to a booth near the crackling fire and helped her with her coat, he sensed envious glances from the men in the room.
Eat your hearts out, boys,
he thought.
I'm with a queen tonight.

Jess slid into her seat. She looked flat-out gorgeous in that simple black dress, which showed off her trim figure. And the fishnet stockings on those legs triggered thoughts that, if spoken out loud, would be liable to get his face slapped.

Cheryl had taught him how to order wine. Ben chose a vintage Merlot, which caused Jess to smile. “I thought they only drank beer in this state,” she said as the server filled her glass.

“You'd be surprised.”

“What's good here?” She studied the menu.

“Everything. But knowing you're hungry, I'd recommend the twelve-ounce prime rib or the New York strip.”

“I'll go with prime rib, medium rare.”

“Then I'll have the same.” Ben gave their order to the server, then turned back toward her. He enjoyed simply looking at her, watching the firelight flicker across her elfin face as she sipped her wine. It was all too tempting to forget he'd asked her out for a serious reason.

“Are you ready for your mother to join you tomorrow?” he asked, making conversation.

“The house is ready. Whether
I'm
ready remains to be seen. If she wants to cooperate, we should be fine.”

“And if she doesn't? Francine can be a handful.”

“I'll cross that bridge if and when I come to it. Right now I'm trying to think positive thoughts.”

“I gave her my prerelease lecture this morning—told her you were counting on her to behave and I didn't want to see you disappointed.”

“What did she say to that?” Jess gazed at him over the rim of her wineglass, her stunning eyes holding glints of reflected flame.

Ben suppressed the true answer. “She told me that you and she would make a good team.”

“I hope she's right. I understand that I may need to get tough with her.”

“Yes, you probably will. Let me know if you need any help.”

Their salads and bread had arrived. Jess dug into the fresh greens and hot, buttered sourdough with a gusto that would do credit to a starving urchin.

“I love watching you eat,” Ben said. “You seem to enjoy it so much.”

She gave him a grin. “I bet you say that to all the ladies you take out.”

“Actually, no. What few there've been were all on diets. You must have a furnace inside you, burning up all that energy.”

She laughed. “No, I'm just hungry.”

“My mother says you're going to the Christmas Ball.”

“That's right. I was more or less bullied into it. Maybelle said she needed help taking tickets, and your mother offered to lend me your sister's dress. How could I say no?”

“You'll look great in that dress. But Ellie's taller than you are. You'll need to shorten the skirt.”

“No problem. I can sew up a hem.” She broke off another piece of bread and slathered it with butter. “Will you be there?”

“I'll be working security. I usually volunteer for that job so my deputies can enjoy the party with their spouses. But I won't be busy all night, and neither will you. I hope you'll save me a dance.”

“Dance?” She looked startled. “But I can't dance. I mean, I can go to a club and sort of move to the music, but I don't know any of those old-time Texas dances.”

“They're not that hard. I could teach you the Texas two-step in no time at all.”

“Even if I'm a lady with two left feet?”

“It's simple. I can show you when we get back to your house.” Would she even be speaking to him by the time he got her home? If he confronted her about her arrest, and she found out he'd run the background check, she might not ever want to speak to him again. But one way or another, he needed to know the truth.

The server brought out slabs of juicy prime rib with loaded baked potatoes. They feasted, making small talk between bites and sharing a slice of apple pie for dessert. The evening, so far, had gone wonderfully. Ben found himself dreading the moment when he would have to ruin it by bringing up her past. He wouldn't do it in the restaurant. But maybe later, on the way home, or even when they arrived at her house, he would find the right moment.

Toward the end of the meal, Ben sensed a change in Jess. She seemed to withdraw, her conversation becoming fragmented and strained. Reading people was part of his job, and he could tell something was troubling her. Had she guessed what might be coming?

He paid the check, helped her with her coat and escorted her out to the truck. By then she'd fallen silent. She gazed out the side window, into the darkness, as he pulled out of the parking lot and turned onto the main road.

“Are you all right, Jess?” he asked.

“Almost.” She gave a nervous little laugh. “But there's something I've been meaning to tell you—something you need to know about me.”

Ben felt a rush of relief, like the lifting of a heavy load. He'd waited, hoping against all odds that Jess would volunteer her story. Now it appeared he was going to hear it—and knowing Jess, he had to believe it would be the truth.

“I'm listening,” he said.

“You're not going to like it.”

He reached over and squeezed her hand. “Let me be the judge of that.”

* * *

Jess's heart was pounding. It was as if she were spinning through time, her hold slipping as she groped for a solid place to begin. She'd done some hard things in her life, but baring her shameful past to this man, whose good opinion meant so much, was one of the hardest.

Closing her eyes for an instant, she took a deep breath.

“It was after my mother died. I'd managed to graduate from high school and enroll in some community college classes. I was living in Saint Louis, with roommates I barely knew, waitressing nights, when I met Gilbert—Gil, as he liked to be called.”

Jess shook her head, remembering how young and naïve she'd been. “I don't know what he saw in me—probably that I looked like an easy mark. Whatever it was, his charm swept me off my feet. He was a few years older than I was, with nice clothes and an expensive car. And he had a way of saying exactly what I needed to hear, building me up and making me feel special. Later on I realized he could turn that charm on and off like a switch, to use whenever he needed it. But by then it was too late.”

Jess fell silent, collecting her thoughts. Her gaze traced the rugged outline of Ben's profile in the darkness of the cab. His eyes were on the road, his expression unreadable.

“Gil was selling life insurance policies when I met him,” she said. “He even showed me his Salesman of the Year award. But he told me he'd always wanted his own agency. After we were married—three months after we met—he leased an office and went into business for himself. I became his secretary—I had to drop out of school, but at least it was a step up from waitressing.

“The office was in a neighborhood with lots of older people. We rented a place nearby and even started going to church there, something I hadn't done in years. Gil was at his charming best. Pretty soon he was selling term life policies to the old people in the congregation and to their friends and neighbors. I took their payments and made out the receipts, but he always insisted on forwarding the checks to the company himself.”

She took a ragged breath to settle her nerves. “I should've guessed by then that something was wrong. But I was in denial—about Gil and about the marriage. He doled out my household allowance in cash, and he told me how to dress, where to go, who to see. If I disobeyed him, I paid for it. He never hurt me physically, but there were other means of abuse, and he knew how to use them. Gil was a master manipulator.”

Jess broke off, the memory a rising knot of anger in her throat. She would skip the part about his “working” late, the cloying scent of perfume that had lingered on his skin when he came home and fell into bed beside her.

“It's all right, Jess. Take your time.” Ben's voice was gentle. But the brief look he gave her was narrow-eyed. Ben Marsden was a lawman. There was no way he wouldn't have run the background check on her, and maybe on Gil, Jess realized. Ben already knew
what
had happened. What he didn't know was
why
.

“You're probably wondering why I didn't leave,” she said. “But when you're on the inside, it's all too easy to believe the problems are your own fault, and that if you try harder, things will change. I know better now, but I didn't then.

“The wake-up came one day when I was at work and Gil was out. An elderly woman from our church came storming into the office, terribly upset. She'd lost her husband two days earlier, and when she'd called the insurance company, using the phone number on her policy, they'd claimed they had no record of her payments. When the woman told her neighbors what had happened, they called the company and discovered the same thing. Those poor, old people! Gil had pocketed all their money! The woman was threatening to call the police if she didn't get her benefit right then.”

“So what did you do?” Ben asked.

“I dialed nine-one-one and handed her the phone,” Jess said. “I think you know what happened after that.”

“Yes, I do know.” His confession came in a taut, flat voice, as if he was braced to defend his action. But Jess continued as if he hadn't spoken.

“The police showed up, took me in, and charged me as an accomplice. By then Gil had gotten wind of the trouble, cashed out his secret bank account and was on the run with the money. They caught him with the cash two days later. Meanwhile, I'd turned over the agency's records to the police and promised my full cooperation in exchange for immunity. That same week, I filed for divorce.”

The only sound in the cab was the steady thrum of the truck's engine. Jess had finished her story, but Ben seemed to be waiting for something more.

“How do
you
think I should've handled it?” she demanded after a moment's silence. “Short of not marrying the man in the first place, what could I have done differently? Or maybe you don't even believe me.”

Ben tapped the brake as a deer flashed in front of the truck and bounded into the darkness. A dozen yards ahead, a rough farm road branched off the highway. Turning onto it, he pulled to one side and switched off the engine. Jess braced for the worst—a humiliating lecture and, most likely, a brusque good-bye before he drove her home and dumped her at the curb like a bag of trash.

Eyes deep in shadow, Ben unbuckled his seat belt and turned toward her. “Come here, Jess,” he said.

Heart thundering, she unhooked her belt and leaned near enough for him to draw her into his arms. Her eyes closed as he pulled her against his chest. Tears moistened her cheeks.

“I believe you, girl,” he murmured against her hair. “Even after I found out about your arrest, I couldn't help feeling you'd done the best you could. I just needed to hear it in your own words.”

“You could've asked me.”

“I wanted it to be your idea.”

Jess pressed her face against his jacket. At least he hadn't denied running the background check. For that, she had every right to be angry. But reliving her painful past had drained her of emotion. She had no anger left—only need.

She raised her head, her lips parting in an invitation no man could misread. Their kiss was long, deep and tender, filled with passion and promise. Still, the uncertainty was there, and the fear. Jess had been through too much heartbreak to take anything for granted. So, she sensed, had Ben. The happiness that was almost within reach could be gone tomorrow.

His arms tightened around her as the kiss ended. “We've got a long road ahead of us, Jess,” he murmured. “Right now all we can do is see where it leads. But I can't help hoping you'll still be here at the end of it.” His second kiss was brief but warm. “Now let's get us both home. We've got a busy day tomorrow.”

Minutes later they pulled up to the curb in front of Jess's house. Jess yawned. “I hope you'll give me a rain check on the Texas two-step lesson,” she said.

“Good idea. Get me alone in that house with you and you might have a hard time getting rid of me.”

“Or you might have a hard time getting away.” She gave him a smile. “What time can I pick up my mother in the morning?”

“There'll be some paperwork and an interview with her probation officer. If you come around ten, she should be ready to go.”

“Wish me luck,” she said.

“You're going to need it.” He climbed out of the truck, came around to her door and helped her down. At her front door he swept her into his arms and gave her one last, lingering kiss. “Just in case those gossips have got your house staked out,” he joked as he let her go. “Now they'll have something to talk about.”

She stood in the open doorway, watching him drive away. The “walking on air” feeling lingered as she locked the front door and wandered into her bedroom. Were they falling in love? Surely it was too soon for that. But even after hearing the worst about her, Ben was still around. That had to be a good sign.