The Street Where She Lives

Being with Rachel was breaking his resolve to keep an emotional distance. Watching her struggle to put meaning to her life, seeing her be a mom to his daughter, it was bringing it all back, why he’d fallen for her in the first place. She’d always made him want to be a better man, and that hadn’t changed.

God, he needed to go. The desperation to do just that was nearly as strong as when he’d been a young boy trapped in this same town.

Eventually, he promised himself. Eventually it would end. The authorities had assured him just today that they honestly believed Asada had gone underground and didn’t plan to resurface. If that was true, Ben could go, and soon. Knowing that, he spent time with Emily, taking her to breakfast every morning before personally dropping her off at school, before making her promise to get directly on the bus afterward, where he’d be waiting for her at home. This always made her roll her eyes, but he could tell it pleased her. It pleased him too, oddly enough, doing what he’d imagined were mundane things with his own flesh and blood. But he truly enjoyed her company and, while Emily appeared to feel the same, she still carried her laptop everywhere, still referred to her online buddy Alicia as her only real friend.

When he wasn’t writing, he took pictures, mostly to entertain himself. He continued to play basketball every day at lunch, keeping one eye on the house where he knew Rachel sat in her studio, chasing her own demons.

Today he came back inside, sweaty and exhausted, his mind still overcharged. He knew Rachel had gone to a late breakfast with Adam, who would then take her to the doctor’s appointment Ben had wanted to take her to. He made a face as he went up to the stairs. Immature of him, but there it was. Pulling off his shirt, he strode toward his bedroom, passing Rachel’s…and stopping so short he nearly plowed into the wall.

She sat on her bed in nothing but two towels, one around her head, the other around her body. Her damp body.

Galvanized by the sight, he didn’t move. “I thought you were with Adam.” Horror struck him. “He’s not in your shower?”

She let out a short laugh. “No. He went to his office to get my files. I’ve…been in my studio.”

“Working?”

“Still not making much progress in that area.”

Run, his head told him. Run like hell and never look back.

Instead his feet, directed by the part of his body in charge-and it wasn’t his brain-took him to the foot of her bed, where he looked her over hungrily, broodingly, wondering where exactly she and the good Adam stood, and wishing he didn’t care. Then all of those thoughts flew out of his head as… “Your leg and arm casts are off.”

She lifted the named body parts with a little smile. They were thin and white and shaking from exertion, but she looked so proud he felt his heart swell inside his chest.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“What do I think?” That he wanted her so badly he was the one trembling. That he was shocked at the ferocity of that wanting, and that he was terrified it had gathered even more strength this time around.

Once upon a time he’d loved her-wildly, fiercely, with everything he had.

He couldn’t allow it to happen again. He couldn’t. but he was terrified the matter had been taken out of his hands. Slowly, he pulled her to her feet. It was driving him crazy, having her so close yet so far. Tired of that distance, he actually reached for the towel around her, with some half-baked idea of yanking it off, tackling her down to the bed and reminding her how good it could be to toss their differences right out the window, if only for a few moments.

He felt her start to melt against him, and she wasn’t the only one. He was melting, too. He had his fingers curled in the front of her towel between her two lush, warm breasts, when she slowly shook her head. “Ben, we can’t do this.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“Okay, fine. I can’t do this.” She took a big step back and he suspected an even bigger mental one. “I have a meeting with Adam in twenty minutes.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “Right. This wasn’t on your day planner for today. Probably because it’s an unscheduled emotion, right? I know how you hate those.” Feeling nasty, feeling mean, feeling frustrated and hard and horny as hell, Ben stepped back, too. And right out of the room.

If only he could get her out of his head so easily.

Dangerously caged, that’s what he felt after a month and a half in South Village. Dangerously caged and brooding, not a good combination.

He took a good, long hot shower, then grabbed his camera bag and headed to the downstairs bathroom, where he had set up his darkroom. He’d lose himself in developing film.

But that turned out to be a farce too, because when his pictures came to life on paper, they were of Rachel sitting at her drawing table, looking as hauntingly beautiful as ever.

And as tortured as he.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

HER NEXT FREE Saturday morning, Melanie drove back to South Village. She told herself she was entitled to two days away, that she wanted to see for herself how Rachel was doing and wanted to hang out with Emily. Girl time, she told herself. She needed family girl time.

Lies.

She wanted to see if Garrett glanced at her. It was a matter of pride now, as she hated how much she thought about him. She had no idea why it had been over between them New Year’s Eve before she’d even gotten her panties back on.

Maybe she just needed sex.

She needed sex.

Her sister did not. She never had. In fact, it seemed bitterly unfair that it was possible Rachel, her almost virginal sister, was getting it on with one of the sexiest men alive, while Mel churned and burned.

Garrett wasn’t out front when she parked. Fine. Good. She didn’t need to see him anyway.

She let herself in Rachel’s house.

Given the tense silence she found between Rachel and Ben when she entered the kitchen, she figured they couldn’t have done it yet. Not with her sister acting as tightly self-controlled as ever. God forbid she allow anything as mundane as lust to shatter that control.

Or had she?

Melanie took a good hard second look and found herself dumbstruck. Appeared that the reason for the so- thick-she-could-cut-it tension in the room most positively wasn’t temper after all.

Yes, Rachel had two high spots of color on her cheeks, but she wasn’t meeting anyone’s eye. A sure sign of guilt if anything, and Mel should know. Furthermore, her sister’s blouse wasn’t tucked in, a huge fashion no-no in Rachel’s book-and the bandanna on her head looked slightly askance, revealing short, spiky strands of blond hair going in every direction.

Hmm.

Ben himself was no better off. His shirt hung open, though he’d hastily buttoned it when Melanie had entered. His hair had either been attacked by migrating birds or a set of hungry fingers.

Double hmm. “Don’t tell me you two have forgotten how badly things turned out last time,” she said into the silence.

Rachel closed her eyes. “Melanie.”

“Well, they did! You guys were over the moon about each other.” She pointed to Ben. “But when she said go, you did. And you…” She looked at Rachel. “You let him. Hello, people…what does that tell you? That you aren’t meant to be, okay? I mean, why be stupid enough to try again? Especially when you’re only together due to a madman on the loose.”

A muscle in Ben’s jaw ticked, which was really sexy as hell, damn him. “You told her,” he said to Rachel.

“I had to.” Using her cane, Rachel headed for the door, nearly plowing over the tall, yummy neighbor standing