The Street Where She Lives Read online

  Uh-oh. Thinking about resisting him and everything he made her feel was one thing when he wasn’t actually in front of her, but Ben in the flesh was something else entirely. Her heart clutched, her stomach quivered. Her palms went damp. The entire visceral reaction was more than a little disturbing.

  Had she forgotten that this man, and this man alone, had once destroyed her? Had she forgotten he already had one foot out the door, and that when he left it would likely be another thirteen years before she saw him again?

  He stood up and came toward her, wearing jeans and a plain white T-shirt beneath an open, long-sleeved, blue chambray shirt. “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey yourself.”

  He took her hand and guided her to the table. She eyed her best china, the three daisies in a small vase in the center of the table, the utter care that had gone into the setting and then realized he was studying her. “What?”

  “You look beautiful,” he said so simply she wanted to believe him. Wanted a lot of things, actually.

  “Ben…about earlier. I’m sorry about getting mad over the McDonald’s bribe. It’s just that I’m used to handling her all by myself, and—”

  “You handle everything by yourself.”

  “I didn’t—” She let out a breath and blinked at him. “What?”

  “You handle everything by yourself—your injuries, your house, your hopes and dreams and fears. Your daughter.”

  “She’s your daughter, too.”

  “I know that, I’m just not always sure you know it.”

  Whoa. This didn’t sound like a truce to her. “Ben—”

  “Look, all I want to say is, don’t apologize for something you’re not really sorry for.”

  “I…okay.” She blew out a careful breath. “You’re right.”

  “And be honest. You like routine, you like to get your way and when I wasn’t here, you had both whenever you wanted it.”

  “Yes,” she agreed tightly. “And when you’re gone, things will go back to normal. They’ll have to. So I’d appreciate it if you didn’t spoil Emily while you were here.”

  He let out a little laugh. “You act like I’m already half gone.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  Still standing, they stared at each other, at the same old impasse. The thirteen years might not have happened at all, Rachel thought bitterly, and wondered how she’d ever let herself dream things might be different this time, even if those dreams had only been in the deep, dark of the night. “You could try to deny it,” she whispered, horrified at what she was revealing by even saying it, but unwilling to hold back.

  He stared at her for a beat, then grimaced. Shoving his hands through his hair, he turned in a slow circle, then faced her again. “Rachel.” Just that, just her name, in a voice as tortured as her insides felt.

  “Forget it,” she said, inhaling deeply. “Just forget it.”

  “You know I had to leave back then. I had the offer of a lifetime. You know that. But I never meant to do it without you, it never occurred to me that I’d have to. That you’d send me away.”

  She knew her eyes were shining with unshed tears. Knowing that her heart was in her voice, she said, “And it never occurred to you that I had to stay, every bit as much as you had to go.”

  “Rach,” he whispered again and stepped closer. He slid his fingers along her jaw, beneath the straw hat she wore over her extremely short hair. His thumb gently glided along her cheek. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

  “Me, too,” she said softly, and meant it. So sorry.

  He let out a slow breath. “So.”

  “So,” she repeated, and had to let out a little smile.

  His returning smile stole her breath. He hitched his head toward the table. “Think we can manage?”

  “We can try.”

  “Good.” He slipped his arm around her bad side, gently pulling her snug against him so that as they turned toward the table and started walking, he was her cane.

  “What’s cooking?” she asked, trying not to think about how hard he felt from shoulder to thigh, how warm. How positively solid. She concentrated on something else instead—the itching beneath the cast, the residual heat of the day.

  “Well, now.” He tipped his head down to hers, his mouth curving into a smile. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

  He sat her down, scooted her chair in for her then moved to his side of the table. Shrugging out of his long-sleeved shirt, he set it over the back of his chair and sat as well. “Hungry?” Before she could answer, he pulled the lid off the steaming platter. Mac and cheese.

  Not that Rachel wasn’t grateful for any meal that she didn’t have to cook, but she knew Ben’s culinary skills and had to admit to surprise over the simplistic menu.

  “Looks great,” he said, and smiled one of his killer smiles.

  In spite of herself, she laughed. “Didn’t it look great before?”

  “Before?”

  “When you cooked it, Ben.”

  His smile froze a little. “But I didn’t cook it.”

  “But…I didn’t either.”

  “Sure you did. I got your note.” He pulled it out of the pocket of the shirt on the back of his chair. The piece of paper looked suspiciously like hers.

  She stared at it in disbelief, then pulled out hers and handed it to him.

  After reading it, he tossed his head back and laughed.

  Rachel, who didn’t think this was funny in the least, sat back. Her daughter had struck again.

  Ben just laughed some more. “You have to admit, she got us.”

  “Oh, she got us. And I’m going to get her.”

  “How can you not find this funny?”

  That was simple. Everything in her life was out of her control, including this, and she deeply resented that. With a shiver, she imagined what could have happened tonight if the truth hadn’t been discovered, if she’d continued to believe Ben had set this all up himself. She shivered again, and with a frown Ben stood up and grabbed his shirt from the back of his chair. “Here,” he said, and draped it over her shoulders.

  Encompassed in his warmth, she closed her eyes when his hands lingered over her shoulders, gently squeezing and massaging the tightness of her muscles there.

  “Rach…” His mouth was by her ear so that she could feel his warm breath against her sensitive skin. If she hadn’t learned the truth, she’d probably have melted back against him, let herself get lost in what he was so silently offering, lost in a way she hadn’t allowed herself since…him.

  Damn it. Straightening away, she grabbed her fork.

  “All right.” He pulled away with a low chuckle. “I can take a hint.”

  “If I’d been hinting, I’d have picked up the knife.”

  He smiled and served them both. Lifting the crystal water glass, he toasted her. “To our ingenious daughter.”

  “Should we really toast her antics?”

  His eyes were warm and laughing, and yet behind that was something else, something that took her breath with its heat and intensity. “Oh, yeah,” he murmured. “And here’s to something else, Rach. Here’s to us.”

  “While you’re here.”

  “While I’m here,” he agreed.

  She ignored the hitch in her heart and nodded lightly. “Okay. Then here’s to us not killing each other for the duration.”

  He grinned.

  Suddenly starving, she leaned into the table to eat. In the breast pocket of Ben’s shirt a paper crinkled, poking her through the material. Thinking her daughter had been meddling even further, she pulled out the folded paper, opened it and read what was on it. “Dear Ben, Do you think you’ve paid? Don’t stop watching, waiting…I surely won’t.”

  Ben came out of his chair the moment he saw what Rachel had, but it was too late.

  She lifted her head and pierced him with horror-filled eyes. “What is this?”

  Cursing himself would do no good, lying to her even less, though Ben co