Love Inn (6 page)

“So, how is the book coming? Any part of it you can share?”

The book. She wanted to laugh. “I suppose so. It’s about a man, haunted by his past, and the woman who saves him.”

He tilted his head as he gazed at her. “The man. That would be me?”

She nodded.

“Is that how you see me? Haunted by my past?”

“Aren’t you?”

He paused before answering. “Maybe I am. I guess it’s hard for me to admit to.”

She eyed him over her glass. “If it’s any consolation, I believe we all have past issues sculpting us.”

“What about this haunted man? What’s his story?”

“He’s a complicated man. Full of plans for the future if the past will let him be. It’s the woman’s future that yawns before her, keeping her too frightened of what the unknown holds for her to find happiness. The story is about how each one of them conquers their demons, at first alone, then finally together.”

“Who is the woman? Who do you pattern her after?” Ben asked, crossing his arms.

“Oh, no one in particular. She’s a bit of every woman I’ve ever known and written about I suppose. Don’t we all have fears of the future?”

He shook his head. “Not you. You’ve got it all worked out already.”

She set her glass down and avoided his gaze. “Have I?”

He leaned forward once again and took her hand, toying with the silver pinky ring on her finger. The ring was heart-shaped and had Celtic knot work on it. He rubbed his thumb over it thoughtfully. “I guess we’ll find out.”    

Chapter Six 

He awoke to the smell of flowers luxuriating in a vase of water on the nightstand. He groped around the corner of the table and found the alarm, chiming softly in the darkness. Light filtered underneath the closed door of his closet. It was his habit to leave something burning to illuminate the way.

He threw the comforter back and sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, orienting himself.  The events of the last evening flooded back. 

They had a good time, dancing and talking. The ride back had been filled with silence and thinking. Well, for him anyway. The sound of her soft breathing had let him know she had slipped into sleep sometime close to home.

He had roused her once they parked and they each went their separate ways inside. Later, he found himself standing at the doorway of her room, just staring at the closed door before turning in himself.

Ben shook himself and stood, taking a step toward the closet to turn off the light. “Keep yourself to yourself,” he muttered aloud.

But the memory of the night was one of wonderful recounting. The food had been delicious, her conversation intelligent, and then they danced. Holding her in his arms had nicked a spot in his heart that he wasn’t sure he could forget so soon.  

He decided the only way to properly thank her was through action. He hurried to the shower to refresh himself and get down to the kitchen. Cooking was still his best artwork. She would appreciate that.

Later when he finished cooking sausages, eggs, and toast, he poured a cup of the tea she liked and piled it all on a tray to take upstairs. She was sleeping in today, and he wanted her to be surprised by breakfast in bed.

He gently balanced the tray with one hand and knocked. He heard movement within. When she didn’t answer, he knocked again and turned the knob. She wasn’t sleeping. She sat at the desk typing onto a laptop computer. A frown furrowed her brow. The bed was still made and he realized she hadn’t slept at all.

“Kitty?”

No answer. She was so caught up with her writing she wasn’t hearing anything else.

He coughed and carried the tray to the dresser. “I brought you breakfast. I know you planned on staying in today, so, I thought—“

She whirled around in the chair. “Get out.”

“Excuse me?” Her eyes were bloodshot, and her hair was a mass of tangles from constant tousling, which he had noticed she did often. “What’s the matter?” 

“I’m working. I do not eat when I work. I also do not fraternize, chat, or visit. Get out.” She whirled back to the keyboard. “Please.”

Effectively silenced, he strode to the door, pausing before he left. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

She lifted a hand in either a wave of dismissal or a wave of goodbye. He didn’t hang around to find out. 

###

She paced back and forth, mouthing the words as they raced through her mind. The man in her story and Benton Jessup were bothering her. Neither wanted to behave in the manner she wished. She felt hot and cold at the same time, one from desire and one from fear of disappointment. How could she ever finish this story without the intimacy the character had to experience? She could try to remain aloof and detached and see a relationship with Ben develop, and then as soon as she had the writing perfected, be off again.

But something about the man kept her from considering such action. She really was interested in him. The time they had spent together had been like almost like a rebirth to her. For the first time in a long time she had just relaxed and enjoyed a man’s company. 

Was she sure she could have a no-strings sort of affair? Her heart was aching for attachments. When he’d held her in his arms and danced with her, she’d felt as light-headed as though she’d been drunk. That surely was not a good sign for leaving him behind with no future glances back. When had she become so interested in settling down? It had happened with no warning.

And she’d been so rude to him, too. She remembered the look on his face as he stood in her room, laden with a tray.  Guilt consumed her. She had to go to him, but not before she took time to freshen up.

She undressed, got into the shower, and let the pounding jets steam clean the clouds from her mind. Next up: a decent apology. 

###

In the springtime, guests didn’t frequent The Inn as often as Ben would have liked. Yet he found himself preparing a room for another guest later that day. Kitty had not appeared for lunch, and he wondered if she would be down for dinner. He would not try again to take a tray to her, only to be turned away.

Let her come to the kitchen
.

He folded the quilted comforter neatly and placed it on the foot of the bed for Mr. Charles Trimble, his soon-to-arrive guest. Mr. Trimble had needed a place to stay and found most of the local hotels full thanks to a winning season for basketball fans.

Ben smiled to himself. Maybe this would be the year to surpass all others for business. He could only hope. His bank account would be seriously thankful. 

He glanced at the still-closed door of Kitty’s room. She’d been an opportunity, but that had apparently been all in his head, she obviously wasn’t interested.

Pausing outside her door, he wondered if she ever went to sleep. It was too quiet for her to be moving around. She would be hungry by now. Should he knock? His last attempt had been a rude awakening and he didn’t wish to repeat it, but…a twinge of guilt for not being a proper host drew his brows together. Carla would chide him about treating guests as royalty.

Then he heard the water running and moved away. She was not sleeping.

He made his way downstairs and stood at the desk, considering if it was too early to begin preparations for dinner. Trimble wouldn’t be in until after five, but would be eating at The Inn.  Maybe the two of his guests could keep each other company. He’d be sure to make himself scarce.

As he brought out a large package of rice and moved to place it in the rice steamer, Kitty appeared. She danced through the kitchen, humming to herself and as she passed behind him she paused to rub his back and peer into the pans on the stove.

“Oh it’s a lovely day, simply lovely. I can’t tell you what it feels like to be able to run through so much of the work in one sitting.” She kept rubbing his back in medium sized circles, not noticing how he stiffened. Finally, she passed to the left of him and pulled out a stool to perch herself on.

He turned away and replaced the rice in the pantry. When he returned, he hoped his face didn’t show how her light touch had sent shockwaves through him.

“What?” she asked, when he kept busy at the stove. “No greeting for your guest then?” 

At that, he looked directly at her. “Guests are allowed free run of the place, but not free run of the owner.”

Her blue gaze softened as she left her seat and returned to his side. “Oh, Ben, I am terribly sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you in any way. It’s the artist in me, I suppose. I get a little carried away when I find the writing going along.  Please forgive me?”

He stood stock-still, not meeting her gaze, afraid to speak at the emotions tumbling over him like rushing water in a stream.

She clutched his arm, and turned him. “Please?”

He gazed down at her and nodded. She smiled and the ice in his heart melted a little. He put his arm around her and she slid into his embrace. He brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. Having been so bold already, he stroked the silken strands of burnished fire, and appreciated their lustrous feel.

His voice was low. “I’m not prepared for a woman’s onslaught.”

“I wouldn’t be thinking of doing harm to you.”

“It’s been a very long time since—“

“I’ll wait for you,” she said, stepping away. “I’m after a short walk. Perhaps you’ll have a recall whilst I’m out?”

His heartbeat pounded. “It’s like horseback riding they say. You don’t forget.” 

She grinned and bounded out the door. 

Trimble arrived before she returned. He wore a tailored suit and gold watch and talked business. Ben welcomed the change of atmosphere and showed him to his room with a promise that dinner would be ready within the hour.

When he had the beef tips and gravy nearly ready, Kitty came through the back door, stamping her feet on the mat and rubbing her hands together. “Something smells delicious.”

He waved her to the table and began placing mats around for place setting. Before he could warn her of a new guest on the premises, Trimble strode through the doorway and made himself at home at the table.

He stuck his hand out to her. “Charles Trimble, call me Chuck. I’m the new kid on the block, and unfortunately late for dinner.”

“Not at all, Chuck,” she assured him, as she squeezed his hand. “We’ve only just begun.”

Ben returned to the kitchen to gather the plates and silverware. As he watched them chatting, he felt a surge of heat rage through him. He wanted her.  And if she would allow it, he’d have her.

Tonight.

###

Her gaze was fixed on the dark-haired man seated across from her, a smile plastered on his face. “If the weather decides to cooperate, Mr. Trimble, a long stroll around the grounds is balm for the tired soul,” she said. “I’ve found it completely inspiring.”

He nodded, rising from the table. “I am off for that walk right this minute. An excellent suggestions, Miss Beebe. Will you join me?”

She tapped the side of her teacup and shook her head. “No, I’m thinking of another cup of tea and then I must return to my work.”

He nodded and strolled to the door leading out to the patio. Once he exited, she released a held breath. She wanted to have a few moments alone with Ben to see if he remembered what a kiss was like. Her lips tingled as she thought of it.

She found him, sitting on the first stair, staring off into space. His hair was tousled, and he looked tired. She wondered if the strain of keeping up with the business was causing him distress, or if he was having the same emotional upheaval she was.

“So, here you are,” she said softly. “Are you in hiding then?”

He shoved up from the stair and stood closer to her than he intended. “No. Not at all. Just too lazy to climb them again.” Then he pointed his thumb over his shoulder at the stairs. “I may need an escalator put in.”

Standing by him, breathing in his rustic-smelling cologne, she felt light-headed, thrilled. “Shall I carry you?” She gazed up into his eyes and knew there was no need for jokes.

He didn’t give them a chance to make more small talk. He ran his hand down her arm and swept her into an embrace, his lips barely touching hers. She was not willing for him to be gentle, and she pressed closer, opening her mouth for his tongue to move inside. The kiss grew and lengthened until they both were breathless.

When they stepped apart, she felt her heart jerking in her chest like a wild animal trying to work its way out. “I’ll gladly take that as payment,” she said in a whisper. 

His eyes glowed with heat no one could mistake for anything but passion. “I think I can manage now. As long as you’ll follow to make sure I don’t fall.” 

They went up the stairs, her hand tightly clasped in his, and when they reached the top floor, he closed the door to his room trapping her inside, beginning anew his onslaught. He held her loosely in his arms and cradled her head with his hand as his kisses burned between them like a flame loosed from a candle. Their sighs and moans filled the room as they settled on the bed atop the comforter.

He undressed her slowly, one article at a time until she was glowing and naked beneath him. His hands filled with her breasts, hefting them, adoring them.

She wrapped herself around him and he knew without a moment’s thought, they were perfectly matched. He held her hands tightly as he thrust and retreated, plundering her as she met him stroke for stroke. He possessed her, feasting and taking his fill of her body until she cried out, passion enveloping them.

He plunged deep, completely surrendering to her in every way. When he buried his face in her sweetly scented hair, he didn’t know who the conqueror and who the conquered. 

In the morning when she woke, Ben was gone, hosting his latest guest. She lay curled on her side, naked beneath his quilted coverlet. She would get up and go back to her room to freshen up in a few moments, but for now, she wanted to enjoy the memory of their encounter.

In fact, she tried desperately to recall the sensations his mouth and hands had brought to her body. She wanted so much to capture those feelings and get them on paper so that her characters would bring their lovemaking to life on the page just as she and Ben had done for real.

She wondered as she rolled over taking the coverlet with her, if it was even possible to recreate those wonderful sensations with words. It would seem to cheapen it, lessen it in some way.

This thought left her feeling a bit less romantic and she quickly gathered her clothes, put them on, and left his room. As she passed the stairs, she heard their voices below, deep rumbling male voices lifted in the camaraderie that only men could share. She wasn’t sure she was even glad he had someone else to keep him occupied. She was about as uncertain of her feelings as she had ever been.