“Sara?” West’s voice was sharp with surprise. “What are you doing down there?”
With a gulp, she raised her head and wondered why he looked so scrawny without his clothes on. “Hi, there,” she said thickly. “I was, uh, looking for…something.” Uh-oh. What if he offered to help her look? “My, uh, glasses.” Using the top of the mattress for balance, she pushed to her feet. “I was looking for my glasses. But as you can see, they’re not under the bed.” She winced as Ben pinched her little toe. “Nothing’s under the bed,” she added hurriedly, and got another pinch for her trouble.
West took a step toward her. “You don’t wear glasses, Sara.”
“I don’t?” This night was never going to end. “That must be the reason I didn’t find them.”
“Be honest, Sara. You sneaked into my room to try to make amends for tonight’s disaster. You planned to surprise me into accepting your apology, didn’t you?” His self-assurance was too slick, his tone too debonair for the scrawny body they represented.
With a blink, she brought up her gaze and made it focus on his face. “Believe me, if I had planned this, I wouldn’t be here.”
“You mean this is a spur-of-the-moment decision? An impetuous act based on an equally impetuous idea?”
“There’s no reason to make it sound like a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence, West.”
“Forgive me, but I am amazed—deeply flattered, of course, but still amazed to find you in my bedroom so unexpectedly. To be candid, Sara, I didn’t believe you had an ounce of impulsiveness in you.”
“It came over me very suddenly.” How was she going to get out of this? “And, well, it just seemed like such a good idea at the time.”
“It doesn’t seem too bad, even now.”
“I guess that depends on your perspective.”
“Ah. There’s no need to be nervous. You have my solemn promise that I will still respect you in the morning.”
She could not believe he had said that. From the way Ben tweaked her toe, he obviously couldn’t believe it, either. “Actually, respect isn’t high on my priority list at the moment, West.”
He looked startled, pleased, and particularly smug…not precisely in that order. “You’re displaying hidden depths, Sara, and I have to tell you that my first reaction is pure delight. I was beginning to think you would never…warm up…so to speak.”
Oh, boy. If Ben hadn’t been under the bed, she might have warmed up to West a little more. But all she could think of was Ben under the bed, hearing every word, evaluating her ability to handle the situation, rating West’s seduction techniques—and her responses—like an Olympic judge.
West advanced toward her with lust in his eyes and she prepared for a siege. “Did I mention how—and I mean this most sincerely—sexy you look in that tuxedo shirt? Not another woman at the party tonight could have worn that outfit and gotten away with it. And I guarantee that every man in the room was thinking the same thing I was.”
His voice dropped dramatically as he reached her and, despite her better judgment, she had to ask, “What were you thinking, West?”
He chuckled. One of those short, soft laughs some men use to smooth over any possible offense that might be taken from his next remark. “I was wondering what color lingerie you were wearing underneath.”
“Maybe I’m not wearing any.” She moved her foot before Ben could tweak her toe again. He was going to get them both caught if he didn’t stop that.
West all but drooled as he slipped an arm around her shoulders and put a hand on the button placket of her shirt. “And I’m the lucky man who is about to see for himself.”
“Not so fast.” She placed her hand over his. “You left your shower running.”
“Let it run. I can afford to pay the water bill.”
“But, West, there’s plenty of time, and—” she traced her finger across his bare chest “—anticipation is half the pleasure, you know.”
He caught her hand, raised it to his lips and kissed her palm. “You’re quite the temptress tonight, Sara.”
“I do seem to be on a roll.” Ben Northcross was going to owe her a lot more than fifty cents for this rescue, she decided. “Take your shower, West. The mystery of what I’m wearing under this shirt can wait a little longer.”
“I’m not sure I can wait another second.” He jerked her against his naked body and bent his head to claim her lips in a sloppy kiss.
Sara allowed the embrace to continue just long enough for Ben to have time to wonder if he was going to be stuck under the bed during an entire love scene. Then she placed her palms against West’s bare chest and pressed him back. “Go take your shower,” she said in her best seductress whisper, making sure it was loud enough for Ben to overhear. “And when you come out, I’ll be ready for you.”
West ran his tongue across his lips then gathered her close and kissed her again. “Sara, Sara, Sara,” he murmured a long moment later. “I may actually forgive you for wrecking the party and my house, after all. Why not come into the shower with me and earn a few extra brownie points by scrubbing my back?”
“That’s so tempting, but I really had my heart set on surprising you.”
“You already have. A thousand times over.”
“I meant,” she said hastily, “I want to be able to surprise you again.”
“Totally unnecessary, love. You have persuaded me to be yours tonight…body and soul.” He cupped her hips, then his hands sidled up her back…and stopped to investigate the long, ragged slit in her shirt. His smile ebbed slightly and his voice picked up the tone of a prosecuting attorney. “What happened to your shirt? How did it get torn like this?”
Sara could practically hear the ice breaking under her feet, but she tossed her hair, called up her best impression of sultry and aimed for his most vulnerable spot—his ego. “I tore it, West.” Hoping she hadn’t forgotten how, she batted her eyes at him. “I thought that would make it easier for you to rip it off.”
There was a muffled thud under the bed, but West was too preoccupied to notice. “Oh, Sara, baby. So there was some planning involved, after all.” He bent to kiss her again, but she put her fingers against his lips.
“Shower first,” she whispered. “A hot, steamy body is such a turn-on.”
“I’m not sure I can get much hotter.”
“Of course you can,” she murmured huskily, thinking that if this didn’t work, she might have to resort to stuffing him in the shower by force. “Go take your shower. Please.”
He backed away from her with a smile that stretched from ear to ear. “All right, but let the record show that I object to this delay.”
She batted her eyes some more. “I love it when you talk legal to me.”
“Defendant is hereby ordered to remain in this courtroom until tomorrow morning.”
She nodded and waved.
“Discovery will begin after a short recess.”
She blew him a kiss.
“I’ll return to examine your briefs.”
She wished she had an electric gavel to prod him into that shower. “Remember, hot and steamy. This is one case you won’t want to lose.”
He waggled his eyebrows, pursed his lips in a promised kiss and disappeared into the bathroom. Sara thought about following him…as soon as she smuggled Ben out of the room, that is. One night with West could cinch her future, pave the way for a marriage proposal. On the other hand, she hadn’t planned this, hadn’t thought it through. What if it was the wrong action to take? Worse, what if Ben waited for her in the van? Or in the kitchen? What if she couldn’t keep her mind on West for worrying about where Ben was and what he was doing? As she heard the shower door open and close, followed by the changing rhythm of the spray, she made her decision. She leaned down and whispered, “Let’s go!”
As Ben rolled out from under the bed, she raced to the door, cracked it open and glanced up and down the hall. Waving the all clear, she stepped out of the bedroom and waited for Ben to join her before she shut the door behind them.
“Was he wearing a necktie?” Ben asked.
“Not that I noticed, no.”
“I suspected he was underdressed for the occasion.”
“Well, he wasn’t expecting company.”
“What a diplomatic answer.” Ben complimented her tact. “Any other woman would have made some tacky comment about his shortcomings.”
“Could we talk about this later?”
“Sure, if you want to.” He looked left, then right, then left again. “Which way is the exit?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” She chose a direction and took off in a hurried trot.
Ben hustled to keep up. “Well, at least you can truthfully say you’ve been in his bedroom now.”
“Yes, well, so can you.”
“This is just a hunch, but when he figures out you’ve fled his jurisdiction, hot and steamy is going to take on a whole new connotation.”
“I know, I know, but it wasn’t like I had the option of asking him to turn his back while you crawled out from under his bed.”
“Let the record show that I thought you handled the situation magnificently. Ridgeman is going to spend an extremely restless night.”
“So are we, if we don’t get out of this hallway before he throws open that door and starts looking for me.”
“Then we’d better hurry.”
As if she needed to be reminded. Her life’s plans were washing down the drain at this very moment. All because of that silly wedding gown. Temper rising, she reached the sweeping front stairway and ran down at a brisk trot.
Ben was on her heels when she made the second-floor landing, where greasy stains commemorated Cleo and Brody’s roast-beast feast. His footsteps matched hers precisely as she reached the foyer, turned into the long living room, crossed the dining room and headed for the swinging door that led into the kitchen.
“You get the dress from Arthur’s room and I’ll stand watch.”
“Forget the dress.” Sara pushed past the kitchen door, barely noticing that the backward swing almost caught Ben square in the face. “I’ll pay for it if I have to. I’ll pay the fee you’re supposed to get for delivering it. But under no circumstances am I going anywhere near it.” She reached for the back-door knob.
“You’ll set off the alarm,” Ben warned.
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Feel free to stay and offer my apologies.”
Before she could turn the knob, the door opened from the outside and Arthur stepped in to greet them with a dispassionate gaze. “The boutique is closed,” he said. “Unless, of course, you are here to return the clothes you borrowed.”
“We were just on our way out,” Sara said and moved to pass him.
“But since you’re here,” Ben said, then grabbed her hand and held tight, “we’d like to take the wedding gown with us.”
Arthur nodded amicably. “You have my blessing.”
“We’d prefer to have the dress.”
Sara tugged, trying to pull free. “There isn’t time for this,” she muttered. “He’ll be down here any minute.”
“I assume Mr. West is aware you’re in the house.” Arthur started to close the door, but she caught it with her free hand.
“We’re leaving now, Arthur, so if you wouldn’t mind, tell him that something came up and I had to rush home. Or maybe you could tell him you didn’t see me and thought I left a while ago. I know it’s a lot to ask, but please, just this once, be a sport and cover for me.” She jerked against Ben’s restraint, tugging him off balance and out the door with her.
“I really don’t want to leave that dress.” He hurried to get his foot inside the doorway. “Listen, Artie, run up to your room and throw the wedding gown out the window. I’ll catch it and everyone will be happy.” He paused. “Well, not everyone, but three out of four ain’t bad.”
“I do not care to ‘run up,’ young man, nor do I throw articles of clothing out of windows. I will open the gate in five minutes, and if the two of you are not off the premises in ten, I will contact the security service. Good night.” With that dismissal, Arthur closed the door.
Ben let go of Sara’s hand and raised his fist to knock, but she grabbed it in time. “Will you stop that?” she said. “West will sue you for harassment.”
“Me? You’re the one who left him steamed up.”
She hurried to the van, glancing back as he followed more slowly than she would have liked. “I hope you have the keys, because I really don’t want to walk home.”
“Especially not in that outfit.” Ben dug into his pockets. “Patrolmen would be stopping to ask you what color underwear you have on.”
Her temper warred with her urge to put a considerable distance between herself and this house. “Unless you feel the need for a midnight stroll across Kansas City, I’d suggest that you forget everything you overheard in West’s bedroom tonight.”
“Hmm, tall order, but I’ll do my best.” He pulled the keys from his pocket and held them up with a smile before he moved to unlock the driver’s side door. “Hello, Cleo. Did you miss me?”
The Lab barked a sharp denial, and then barked some more.
Sara jerked the keys out of Ben’s hand. “Make her hush, will you?”
“Speak, Cleo. Speak,” he said, and the dog lapsed into immediate silence.
“See? Reverse psychology works best on her.”
With a sigh, Sara looked at Ben’s engaging grin. “Whatever you do, Ben, don’t get in the van.”
He climbed across the driver’s seat and console without further delay. “What do you know?” he said. “It works on me, too.”
Sara got in, inserted the key and turned the ignition. The engine didn’t even sputter, and her heart plunged to a new low. “I don’t believe this.” She tried again with no better success. “I really don’t believe this.”
“Sounds like the battery is dead. Pop the hood and I’ll take a look.”
“What’s the point? No matter what the problem is, I can’t do anything about it now. And don’t bother to suggest that I go back to the house and ask to use the phone.”
“How about asking to use their battery cables?”
She looked at him and then laid her head against the back of the seat. “This has been the absolute worst day of my life.”
“I’ll bet you fifty cents that in an hour, you’ll be laughing about it.”
To her horror, she felt a teardrop slip from the corner of her eye and trickle down her cheek in utter and complete frustration.
With the utmost care, Ben caught the teardrop on his fingertip and held it up to the light beaming down from the upper corner of the house. “What do you know?” he said softly. “Reverse psychology works on you, too.”
Wallowing in misery was not her style, so Sara took a deep breath and made a decision. Slipping the gear stick into neutral, she released the emergency brake and felt a spurt of accomplishment when the van rolled slowly forward.
“We’re moving.” Ben looked from her to the windshield and back to her. “But we appear to be moving toward the house, not away from it.”
“I know that.” She twisted the steering wheel as hard as she could, and the direction altered by a few degrees. “If I can just get this turned a little more…”
“I’m not sure what your plan is, but unless it involves cutting through the house, you might want to apply your brakes.”
She struggled to wring another couple of inches from the steering wheel. “I’m trying to pick up speed, not slow down.”
“And doing a fine job of it, too.” His hands clamped onto the wheel, bracing her strength with his own, enhancing her effort with steady pressure.
The van turned, rolled faster and skimmed past the corner of the house with a quarter inch to spare. It bounced several times, then dropped five or six inches onto the driveway. Sara resolved not to think about which of the flower beds on this side of the house contained West’s prize roses. Tomorrow would be soon enough to assess further damage. Right now, she just wanted to get herself and her van on the other side of that gate before she got closed in here for the duration of the night. She turned the wheel, but the van was slow to respond. It crossed the driveway and rolled onto the lawn. Water sloshed across the windshield as the sprinkler system’s rotating heads made their midnight rounds. Realizing she had gone from compacting West’s roses to crushing his meticulous lawn, Sara overadjusted and drove across the driveway and up onto another flower bed. There was a loud clunk and then a grating, groaning noise, which became a watery scrape, which in turn changed to a rhythmic thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk.
She twisted the wheel and appealed to Ben for assistance. “I’ll give you my firstborn child if you can help me get this back on the pavement.”
“That’s a bit drastic. I’ll settle for dinner, how’s that?” He grabbed the wheel, wrested it to the right, held on through a series of bone-jarring and teethrattling bumps and grinds until the van corrected course and rolled steadily toward the gates at the end of the drive.
Releasing the wheel, Ben looked out the window, twisting in the seat to see behind them. He let out a long, low whistle.
“What is it? What did we hit?”
He resumed a forward-facing position and slumped slightly in the seat. “You don’t want to know.”
She glanced in the mirror. “I don’t see anything unusual.”
“Really? Well, that’s good. Just try not to think about it.”
“This is not a good time to tease me, Ben. Tell me what I did.”
“You made it easier for Ridgeman to water his lawn, that’s all. You probably did him a favor.”
With a lift of her eyebrow, she demanded to know the whole sorry saga.
“The sound you heard was the sprinkler system being ripped from the ground like the pull string on a pack of chewing gum.”
She quickly checked the mirror again, but saw only a haze of moisture reflecting off the house lights. “The sprinklers seem to be working.”
“Overtime. The mist you see behind us is actually a geyser. Or rather, dozens of geysers spewing barrels of water over what may soon be Ridgeman Pond.”
He had to be kidding. “That isn’t funny, Ben. I feel bad enough about driving across West’s lawn without your trying to make it seem worse than it is.”
“I wasn’t trying, Sara.”
She checked his sincerity in a glance that sent her heart plunging to her toes. “You mean that noise was the sprinkler system? I did uproot it?”
“Afraid so.”
Her moan was low and desperate as she checked the watery landscape in the side mirror. “West will never speak to me again as long as I live. I can’t believe this. I really can’t…” She frowned. “How much does a sprinkler system cost? On the average?”
“I don’t know. Probably less than it’s going to cost to repair your van.”
“You’re kidding. Less than the cost of replacing the car battery?”
“I didn’t factor in a new battery.”
“Oh. But the van’s working.”
“It’s rolling. There’s a difference.”
She nodded unhappily. “Right. Well, once we’re off the property, I’ll call the automobile club and get a tow truck. At least we won’t have to walk home.”
Ben frowned and leaned forward. “I thought we had ten minutes to vacate the premises.”
With a blink, Sara realized the gate was closing, and she automatically floored the gas pedal…which only increased her anxiety and did nothing to speed up the van. “Arthur said he’d give us ten minutes,” she whispered in dismay. “Maybe if I honk the horn, he’ll hear it and open the-” Her attempt to honk the horn met with futility, and she rattled the steering wheel in frustration. “Does anything around here still work?”
“The gate, apparently. Although I have a feeling that along with the sprinkler pipes, you probably unearthed the security-system wiring.”
“Wouldn’t that keep the gates from closing?”
“Not necessarily.”
The iron gate shut with a resounding clank only seconds before the van rolled into it, bounced back, then rolled forward again and stopped, bumper to bars, just this side of the open road.
Ben rubbed his chin. “Do you realize there are people who don’t experience this much excitement in their entire lifetime?”
“You may find this hard to believe, but until today, I was one of them.”
Even before he turned to look at her, she knew he was fighting the impulse to laugh. Good humor leaked across the solemn line of his mouth and softened the crinkles around his eyes. As his lips gave in to the smile and his silence to a companionable chuckle, Sara recognized a similar response fighting its way past her misery. There was nothing remotely amusing about her situation, but in less than a heartbeat, she was laughing as if she hadn’t just carelessly run over her future, as if she hadn’t impulsively and inexplicably ruined her life. She didn’t understand what was going on inside her head…or her heart. But suddenly, for no good reason she could fathom, her frustration dissolved into the buoyant, comforting sounds of Ben’s laughter.
She laughed until her sides hurt, until the shambles of all her plans were covered in a dreamlike mist and seemed not so terribly important. When the laughter finally ebbed, she rubbed her eyes. “This isn’t funny, you know.”
“All I know is, this is the most fun I’ve ever had while wearing a tuxedo.” His smile was sensual and sincere, and she couldn’t help thinking that until now she had thought the two words were mutually exclusive.
“You’re only wearing part of a tux,” she said logically. “Only the shirt and bow tie.”
“I think I’ll design a line of formal wear based on the camouflage theme. ‘For the well-dressed man, who wants to keep his legs covered.’ Or, ‘When it’s important not to be seen.’ Or how about, ‘Only her legs should show.’ What do you think?”
“I think you and your legs should slip through those iron bars and see if you can open the gate from the other side before Security shows up.”
He glanced at the gate. “I’m in camouflage, Sara, not a rubber suit. But I couldn’t squeeze through there if I was coated in three layers of vegetable oil. You’re a lot smaller than I am. Couldn’t you scrunch through the bars?”
“There are parts of my body that refuse to scrunch, no matter what kind of reward is offered. I may as well confess that I’ve never been able to do the splits or the Hokey Pokey.”
“I never would have guessed.”
With the pressing knowledge that the Security service was probably on its way, or the intimidating possibility that West himself would make an appearance, she jerked the handle and opened the door of the van. “We’d better reassess our situation in a hurry, because from here the possibility of a happy ending looks like a washout.”
BEN RATTLED THE GATE—which held fast—then stepped back to study the wall of masonry that surrounded the house. Ridgeman had built a damned fortress.
Hands on her hips, Sara examined the pointed, javelinlike bars of this new obstacle to her plans. “I’m not climbing over the gate, that’s for sure.”
“I’m relieved to hear it—duck!” They crouched beside the left front wheel as the spray from the only functioning sprinkler head oscillated past. As soon as the deluge of droplets moved on, Ben stood and reached for Sara’s hand to help her up. “There has to be a better way.”
He sensed a wry challenge in the look she gave him and was delighted that adversity only seemed to spark her fighting spirit.
“You know,” she said, “this would be an ideal time to demonstrate your theory that real men are born with the right tools.”
“I said they were born with all the tools they need. I didn’t say they were born with the right tool for every occasion.”
“Don’t get testy. I just thought you might have a chisel in your pocket, that’s all.” She looked from him back to the gate. “Any chance you could pull those bars apart with your bare hands?”
“Not even if I had two Clydesdale horses to help me.” He watched her, endlessly fascinated by her facial expressions, continuously amazed at her determination to do things her own way.
“Duck,” she said. The sprinkler sent water over the top of the van in a pounding shower. When it moved on again, Sara fluffed her hair with her hands, shedding water drops like a dog after a soak. “I’m getting nearly as wet trying to keep from being sprinkled as I would be if I walked around the van and dared it to hit me.
“If I’d thought about it, I’d have brought along an umbrella.”
She balanced on one foot and brushed a clump of mud from her ankle. “If I had an umbrella right now, I have no doubt that lightning would make a beeline for it.”
“There isn’t a cloud in the sky.”
“Believe me, that is only because I am not holding anything remotely resembling a lightning rod.”
Laughter rumbled in his throat. He couldn’t recall the last time he had felt so alive. “In that case, you might want to avoid touching the gate, too.”
“You’re right.” She reestablished her balance by setting both feet in the center of a trickling river that coursed down the drive and out the gate. “Maybe Cleo could squeeze through the bars and go for help.”
Ben thought she might be developing a fever. “You must have her confused with Lassie.”
“Look at her. She wants out of here as much as I do.”
Cleo sat in the driver’s seat of the van, watching the activity with a critical eye. “Yes,” Ben said. “It’s easy to see how desperate she is.”
“Can you see how desperate I am? Does it show?”
“Not noticeably. Otherwise, you’d go back up to the house and ask for help.”
“I would rather shinny up that cedar tree over there than face West again tonight.”
“I don’t see why. You didn’t have any trouble seducing him a little while ago.”
“I did not seduce him. I merely used the tools I was born with to escape from a rather delicate situation. And under no circumstances will I do another thing to imprint this disastrous night on his brain.”
“When he has to swim down the driveway in the morning, I’m afraid he’ll develop instant recall.”
“Yes, but in the morning, I won’t be here.”
“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you. Duck.” This time, as they huddled beside the van, Ben slipped a hand around her waist…ostensibly to steady her, but really because he couldn’t keep from touching her. Her shiver translated itself into his body as desire, and he wished he could believe there was no other interpretation, that she, too, felt this bewildering and incontestable attraction. But she was wet and getting wetter, and her shiver indicated nothing other than a slight chill. He moved his arm to her shoulder and pulled her close. “We’ll be out of here soon,” he said. “I’m sure of it.”
She looked at him, and his heart stopped. He had held enough women in his arms to know that his number had just come up. In Sara’s russet brown eyes, he could see his future—a house with a porch swing, kids in the yard, Cleo at his feet, a redhead by his side. It was all there, within his grasp, waiting for him to claim…
“Ben? What are you doing?”
He took a long, deep breath. “Adjusting my perspective,” he said. Then he lowered his head and kissed her.