Double Jeopardy (19 page)

“He’ll survive. It’s like doggie boot camp. It’ll toughen him up, give him character.”

She’d forgotten how easily Ben could make her laugh.

They ended up at a fast-food chain, eating burgers and drinking iced tea. She was finishing the last bite of her fries when he said, “Okay, Sera Cardano. Now, explain why you left the way you did. I thought we were friends.”

Should she tell him about Gemma, what Gemma believed about herself and Ben? She couldn’t. It would be a betrayal of her sister’s confidence. “I told you my career comes first,” she improvised. “Because of Maisie, I had this wonderful opportunity to do the sets for a 1920s miniseries. I couldn’t pass it up.”

“But you said you were going back to L.A. You didn’t even mention San Diego.”

Liars needed good memories, her mama had always said. Maria was right about something else, too. One lie always led to another.

“They changed the venue at the last minute.”

He was watching her, and when he slowly nodded it was a relief. He believed her, and he didn’t belabor the issue. Instead, he reached across and took her hand in his, stroking her fingers in a way that sent shivers up her spine.

“We have two whole days, Ms. Career Lady. I fly back first thing Monday morning. Would you spend forty-eight hours exploring San Diego with me?”

For one instant, she thought again of Gemma. But her sister was far away, and Ben was here of his own free will, and forty-eight hours together sounded like bliss. “I’d love that. Have you been to San Diego before?”

"Once, but I was heading for Mexico, so I didn’t have a chance to see much. We’ll drive around tomorrow, I have a map and a tourist brochure that came with the rental car.”

Sera glanced at her watch. “If we’re going to get any sleep, we’d better go back to the motel.”

They drove along quiet streets, with the car radio playing classical music. Sera dared to pretend they were just a couple of tourists returning to their motel after an evening spent dining and dancing.

Ben walked her to the door of her unit.

“’Night, Sera.” He drew her to him and kissed her, lightly but passionately. “See you in the morning for breakfast about what, nine? Ten?”

“Nine.” She didn’t intend to waste one precious moment, and by his pleased smile she knew he felt the same.

He ran his palm down her cheek, and impulsively she pressed her lips there before she turned, suddenly shy, and went inside. She should have been too excited to sleep, but she closed her eyes and the next thing she knew it was 8:15 and outside her window the California sun was beginning to burn off the early morning sea mist.

Ben was punctual to the minute. She opened the door to his knock and there he stood, smiling at her, looking so handsome and familiar and happy she couldn’t help but smile back.

If faces could ache from smiling, hers would have that entire glorious day. They drove and walked and explored and ate, everywhere from Balboa Park and the zoo to the sleek racing yachts being built on Shelter Island. They talked all day, and by evening it seemed to Sera she had a zillion more things to tell him, and as many to hear about him.

In the hot summer twilight, he drove her to Old Town for a Mexican dinner. They chose an outdoor restaurant festooned with paper lanterns and fresh flowers. The air smelled of barbecue and baking beans. Ben ordered traditional margaritas.

“Grande?” the lovely Spanish waitress asked, her dark eyes twinkling.

“Mucho grande,” Ben replied, and when the drinks arrived Sera gasped. The stemmed glasses were the size of fishbowls.

“I can’t possibly drink all that, Ben.” But when she sipped experimentally, the icy concoction tasted wonderful.

The food arrived, platters of rice and beans and spicy vegetables and chilled salads. A mariachi band played. A dark and handsome man with a thrilling tenor voice serenaded her, and Ben pretended to be jealous. A flower vendor stopped by and Ben bought a fresh white gardenia and came around the table to thread the stem through her hair so the flower sat just above her ear. He slid his fingers under the spill of her heavy hair and touched her nape with his fingertips, and she shivered. Spanish words and lighthearted laughter rose and fell all around her.

Sera relished every drop of her margarita. Pleasantly dizzy and more than a little tipsy, she hung on Ben’s arm as they walked to a tiny historic theater to watch a play. She sat beside him in the dimly lit room, laughing at the hilarious lines but aware mostly of her palm pressed against his.

And every moment, she felt that a part of her was observing, nodding in satisfaction and saying,
So this is how it feels to be carefree and young. This is how it feels to be with someone you might come to love.

After the play, he insisted on buying her a magnificent scarlet and black Mexican shawl to tie over a bathing suit or use as a wrap on a summer evening. And during the drive back to the motel, he turned the radio to a Spanish country and western station and sang along, making up his own fractured and funny versions of the maudlin songs. He kept her hand locked inside his fingers, resting on the hard muscles of his thigh, his thumb stroking across her skin.

She closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of the seat. She was happier than she could remember being since she was a child. She felt pampered and cherished and admired. She wanted the night never to end, but she knew that when it inevitably did, she wanted it to be in Ben’s arms.

She didn’t want to sleep alone tonight.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Ben pulled into the motel lot and turned off the motor.

Sera had been debating what to say once they arrived, and now she made up her mind.

“
Would you like to come in for coffee?” It was such a clumsy way to do it, but it was the only way she could think of at the moment. She wanted to just say, Would you like to come in and make love with me? But men liked to make the first move, she still believed, in spite of the sexes being equal. And what if he refused? She’d feel such a fool. She held her breath. What if she’d guessed wrong? What if...

“Sounds good.”

She breathed again. They reached her door, and she fished out the key and, on the third try, fumbled it into the lock.

“Let me.” The door opened smoothly and he followed her inside.

She headed to the minuscule kitchen, where she plugged in the kettle and poked in her cupboard for the jar of instant coffee. She was so nervous as she put it in the cups that she spilled granules across the counter. “Cream and sugar?”

“Black is fine.”

When the coffee was finally ready he took his cup and sat on the sofa, patting the seat beside him. She sat down facing him, cradling her cup between her palms the way she longed to cradle his face. Their eyes met, and she saw reflected a silent acknowledgment of raw physical desire. She’d been right. Ben felt it, too.

His eyes were caressing her, and her skin prickled. She was burning up. She looked away, searching for something to say that would deflect the tension.

“I think I got too much sun today,” she blurted. Fantastic, Cardano. Now he knows that just sitting beside him makes you hot. So much for being subtle.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he set down his coffee, took hers and put it down, as well. Then he slid an arm around her shoulders and moved over beside her, his body not quite touching hers, but almost

“I want you, Sera.” His voice was no more than an urgent, husky whisper. “I don’t want to rush you, but I ache with wanting you.”

She knew how that felt. She’d been aching herself. All day. Longer. Probably ever since the first time he’d kissed her that first night in his apartment in Gastown.

Right now, she badly wanted him to kiss her again. What was he waiting for? She tilted her head up and touched his lips with hers ever so lightly, inviting him.

His breath rasped in her ear, and he pulled her into his arms. “Careful, sweetheart. This could get dangerous.” His voice was rough and not quite steady. “Are you sure it’s what you want, Sera?”

She thought he was telling her again that sex was as much as he had to give. There’d be no future with him. There’d be passion and laughter and excitement, but the time would come, perhaps very soon, when it would all be over.

Was that what she wanted? Was she ready to take the chance that her heart would stay intact if they continued?

Her brain had misgivings, but her body did its best to overrule them. She had needs like every other woman, she reasoned. Was it so wrong to give in to them, to grab at the pleasure she desired without worrying over the aftermath?

“I’m sure, Ben.”

Having sex with someone like Halsey is like playing with nitroglycerin
. Maisie’s cautionary words came back to her, but she pushed them away. Men and women’s needs weren’t really that different, were they?

There was also the element of trust. Strange as it seemed, she now trusted Ben. The conversation they’d had about Gemma last night when he arrived, even some casual remarks he’d made today, had absolutely convinced her he had no feelings for her sister except those of a concerned physician for a patient.

“Are you always this slow at the beginning?” She kept her tone light, but there was a nervous catch in her voice.

The next thing she knew, he’d lifted her in his arms and they were heading for the bedroom.

Sera gave a squawk of alarm and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Put me down, you maniac.” She’d watched muscle men on California beaches pick up their bimbos and run toward the water. She’d watched movie heroes swing their slender leading lathes into their arms and climb staircases. She’d always been certain those scenes were executed by stuntmen. Once or twice she’d idly wondered how it would feel to be carried in a man’s arms. Now that it was happening to her, she could only think of how much she weighed and whether Ben’s back would give out.

He was maneuvering them through the narrow bedroom door much the way stagehands carefully moved large pieces of furniture through small openings, and her legs got caught. The scene was becoming so ludicrous Sera started to giggle helplessly.

“So you find my romantic impulses funny, do you?” They’d reached the bed. He dumped her unceremoniously and then collapsed beside her, pretending to be out of breath.

“There goes my libido,” he moaned in a pathetic voice.

Sera laughed until she was giddy.

“Now, you disrespectful woman, where was I?” In one sudden lithe movement, he rolled over and trapped her beneath him, his thighs on either side of her legs, his hands by her shoulders, bracing himself so he wouldn’t crush her. He took his glasses off and tossed them on the bedside table. Bending forward, he kissed her, light, flickering kisses at first, kisses that made her hungry for more. She squirmed impatiently and at last his kiss deepened, devouring her, his tongue promising a rhythm she longed for.

He drew back and brushed a lock of hair away from her face, and she looped both hands around his neck and tugged him down again, using her mouth to convey the feverish anticipation that burned inside her.

“Too many clothes.” He caught the hem of her dress and maneuvered it up and over her head in one easy movement.

“You, too.” His polo shirt was tucked into the waistband of his cotton pants, and she struggled to pull it out. At last she tugged it loose, and he took over, stripping off the shirt in one deft motion.

“Hurry. Please, Ben.” She wanted his hands all over her. She wanted his skin against hers. She wanted him inside her. She’d never wanted anything as much, or as impatiently.

Her bra fastened in front and he unsnapped it, leaning forward to draw one firm nipple greedily into his mouth, his breath rapid and fiery hot against her bare, tender skin. She bucked and whimpered, as he trailed his hand up her inner thigh, strong fingers brushing the silky crotch of her panties, making her breath catch in a sob of longing.

“You feel so good,” he said, stroking, circling, slipping his finger under the fabric and inside her, withdrawing when she surged against him, touching and retreating in a clever dance that nearly drove her mad. “You are so sexy, my beautiful Sera.”

Was she really his? For now, for this moment. And this moment was all there was.

She fumbled to unfasten the button and zipper on his pants, then reached inside to hold him, to give him back some of the pleasure he was lavishing on her. He was hard and hot in her hand.