absolutely necessary.
But he wasn’t ruling out running the risk if he had to.
“Let’s go in the living room,” Willow said. “It’s tidy for once.”
“It’s always tidy,” he reminded her.
Her expression flickered as she must have remembered how much time they had spent there together in the past, but she used turning off the television to cover any awkwardness.
“Do you still like background noise if you’re alone?” he asked, and winced.
“Why don’t I take the boxes from you?” she said, facing him again.
He’d as good as asked her if she was lonely. She used to use the television to fill up time when he was away from New Orleans.
She didn’t answer him.
“Can we see what you’ve got here?” He put the packages on the floor and sat on the edge of a well-worn blue armchair. But he stopped in the act of removing the helmet from the box. “Am I being too pushy? Taking too much for granted?”
She took a bit too long to shake her head, no. “Look at it. It’s state-of-the-art and should be really safe.”
Once she had got to the flat she must have immediately changed her clothes. She looked fresh and curvy in a yellow cotton dress that skimmed her body.
It was far too long since he had touched her.
Ben concentrated on the helmet. “Wow. Are you sure it’s not too heavy?”
“Why would it be too heavy?”
Looking straight at her and making no attempt at laughing anything off, he said, “Because although you’re strong, you’re small. I like to think of any equipment you use being the right weight for you.” He looked from her face to her sandaled feet—bare and smooth, just as her legs were. “It wouldn’t help much if I put you in a bulletproof vest that made it impossible for you to run, would it? You’d need one in your own size.”
“Bulletproof?” She frowned and all traces of the blush disappeared. Her hand touched her neck again.
“Just an example,” he said. An unfortunate one, given that she was so jumpy lately. “Do you have a rash?” he asked suddenly.
Willow’s lips parted and her eyes grew bigger and an even brighter green. “What kind of question is that?” She checked her arms and legs.
“That was clumsy,” he said. “It was your neck I had in mind. You rub it as if you think there’s something there.”
Instantly, her right hand slid beneath her hair and she backed away.
“What is it?” he said, getting up. “What’s going on, Willow? Sykes knows there’s something happening. They all do and now I do. Would you fill me in, please? Sykes only touched on what he suspected.”
She shuddered and Ben caught hold of her shoulders.
Her hands came up, but she didn’t try to push him away.
Nothing had changed. He closed his eyes and dug his fingers into her flesh. Never before, and not since Willow, had he felt the searing jolt of pain and pleasure that immobilized him when they first touched.
“When I left I actually hoped I’d forget this,” he whispered. “What a fool I was.”
“I’ll never forget it,” she said. “We shouldn’t—”
“Don’t say it. It may be true, but don’t say it. I can’t stand hearing you send me away again.”
“I had to.”
“Why?” He pulled her closer. “You never told me why.”
“We aren’t meant for each other.”
“My God,” he said, shaking with the effort of not taking her into his arms. “How can you say that?”
“Everyone said…” She turned her face away again, but slowly looked back at him.
“
“Nothing. I’m not what you need. Leave it at that.”
There was no decision; he just brought his mouth down on hers, hard and demanding. And she held still, her fingers resting on his chest. The web of raw sensation spun around them. He had never understood it. Only the Millets had this mystical Bonding element—he could vouch for that with certainty.
Her mouth grew warmer and softened under his. Gasping, she stood on tiptoe and slid her hands up to his shoulders.
Their lips parted, and their tongues entwined. He vaguely heard her moans and his own ragged breathing.
The slide of her fingers up his neck to rest on his jaw left a trail of heat. Her body bent into his and Ben’s pelvis jerked against her, hard. He felt the pulsing, the throbbing in his groin. Willow had to feel his erection.
“Willow,” he said. “I’m breaking apart.”
Her breath came in sobs and she shook so hard he clutched her to him, smoothed her back, rocked them together. He smoothed his hands up to the sides of her breasts.
“We can’t,” she said brokenly. “We can’t let this happen, Ben. You know it.”
They grew still but hung on to each other.
“I had to do that,” Ben said. “I had to find out if anything had changed. It hasn’t. Are you still going to say you’re not what I need?”
When Willow didn’t answer, he sat down again and rested his face in his hands.
“Don’t,” she said.
“Don’t what?”
“I don’t know. Feel bad, I guess. You’ll meet the right woman, just give it time.”
He didn’t understand what point she was trying to make, unless… “Tell me you don’t feel anything for me and I’ll help with any business that needs taking care of here and get out of New Orleans again.”
“Don’t ask me questions like that,” she said. “Look, we haven’t seen each other in a long time. It’s a shock. We’re reacting to that.”
“That was some hello, Willow.” Parts of him kept right on reacting to her. “Do you still say there’s nothing out of the ordinary—or not normal, as you call it—about you?”
“Yes,” she said emphatically. “I’ve started to admit that the rest of you have some sort of weird traits, but I don’t have them.”
“You,” he said, “are either a liar or you’re in denial. Down there in the shop, when you didn’t expect me to contact you, you responded. You’re telepathic—at the very least.”
At first he didn’t think she’d answer him at all. Then she took a deep breath and said, “Whatever you say. Do you still want to eat?”
He swallowed the “no” that wanted to snap out and said, “You bet.”
“Fine. Come and help then. I’ve still got a job to do tonight.”
“Tonight?” He looked pointedly at her dress. “Dressed like that? And at night?”
“Yes, like this. I’m going to help a customer host a party. His wife can’t be there until later. It’s a casual party—pool party.” She patted her hip. “I’ve got my swimsuit on already.”
Chapter 5
Willow and Ben didn’t share gumbo that night.
After she’d told him to go and find someone who wanted him to run her life, he had left. Now she felt irritable and disappointed.
But she couldn’t let him march back in and take over.
Could she?
She couldn’t get over that kiss, that he had started it and she had let him. And enjoyed it.
“What’s your problem?” Pascal said when she went into the shop again, new helmet in place, to let them
