Chapter Nineteen

A couple of minutes later I heard Ben’s muffled voice from under the sink. “Yes.” His tall, lean body wiggled out from beneath the counter and I was treated to a view that made my mouth water. Each delicious inch came out from under the sink—broad chest, well-defined arms, nice shoulder. The chin I wanted to nibble, the mouth I wanted to bite, the eyes I think I fell into when we first met, despite my horribly embarrassing run to the bathroom. Why wasn’t I sleeping with him? At that moment I had no idea what was holding me back, and if we had been in a different place, say a bed, and not breaking and entering in a possible murderer’s room, I’d have jumped Ben Fallon the Fallen.

“What? What? What’s a yes?” I said, dragging my mind back to the matter at hand.

I think some of my intense perusal and subsequent arousal must have come across to him, because as soon as he scooted out completely his green eyes zeroed in on me. Then that smile, that killer smile, widened into a devilish grin. “Exciting, isn’t it?”

And what was I supposed to say to that? “Sure it is. We’re in someone else’s room, uninvited, and you found something you don’t seem to be sharing. What’s more exciting than that?”

“You’re not that oblivious, but I’ll let it go this time.” He paused to look me over and I hoped like hell my nipples weren’t peaked under my black top. At least not to the extent that he could see them. “I found this folder taped up under the sink. Do you want to look at it here or go to my house and finish what we’ve started?”

Well, that was certainly a double entendre if I ever heard one, and I spent about a half second deciding what I wanted from Ben and for myself. I was tired of playing this never-ending game in my head. I knew the important parts of him, and maybe if we got the deed done I wouldn’t feel so out of sorts, so off balance. And wasn’t that a lovely way to think of ending my long run on celibacy?

But I said the words and then there was no turning back. “Let’s go to your house.”

Following Ben in my car, I felt my stomach start to knot with dread and anticipation. Was I ready for this? What was I getting myself into? Had I shaved my legs?

A quick feel under the leg of my pants answered the last question in the affirmative and left me with only the two other questions. I’d been drawn to Ben since the first time we met, which I admitted wasn’t so long ago. But something about him really pulled at me. He was funny, charming, and sexy. He made me feel sexy. That was a serious point in his favor.

Five minutes later we pulled up in front of one of three apartment buildings in town. I parked in a spot close to the entrance, right next to Ben. We both got out of our cars at the same time, and Ben came around his hood to take my hand. Who knew holding hands could be so seductive? I felt a tingle from my toes straight to the roots of my hair and worried I might pass out if he actually touched one of my erogenous zones. Would I faint dead away? Perhaps, but it sure would be fun to experience.

We walked into a foyer and up the stairs directly in front of us, Ben tugging me along behind him. “This is home sweet home,” he said in that sardonic voice which always made me want to listen to more of his dry wit.

“It’s a nice building,” I said, for lack of anything better. My mind flashed back to my little cottage and how much I loved it. Truthfully, though, I would have lived anywhere in order to live outside my father’s house and that damn pink room. Maybe I wasn’t the right person to remark on anyone’s living situation.

“Yes, it is a nice building, but I’d give it up in a heartbeat if I could live in a house like yours. Plenty of room to stretch out, no one to bang on the walls if you’re making too much noise. A yard.”

“You say yard like it’s the Holy Grail.”

“Well, I have a secret,” he said in a whisper, making my body automatically lean in closer to hear this secret. “I really shouldn’t tell you. You may use it against me.”

“I will not.” I found I was also whispering and it took some of the starch out of the indignant, fierce way I’d wanted to speak.

His eyebrow quirked at me and, as if he hadn’t already had enough intriguing attributes, this was one more thing that made my mouth go dry. I’d always admired anyone who had such control over their facial features, but on Ben it was especially sexy.

“I won’t,” I said, louder this time.

“Well, my secret is...” He leaned in closer and I could feel his breath on my neck, like a hot caress. His nose tickled the outer shell of my ear and I almost fainted dead away, I was so turned on. And now it was confirmed, I was probably going to die when his hands actually managed to touch any area that was supposed to turn my knees to water. I was so screwed—hopefully, literally. “I like to get my hands dirty...planting flowers.”

“Mmmm.” It was a sexual, throaty noise until what he’d actually said took root in my brain. Uh, flowers? Okay that was so not what I thought I’d hear. “Huh?”

“Flowers. I know it’s not very manly, but I really like the feel of the earth in my hands and putting geraniums in a pot isn’t quite the same. Have you seen Bella’s gardens? What I wouldn’t give for a space like that to really dig into.” On his face was a smile I had only ever associated with orgasm, and we were talking about flowers and dirt. “Huh” was right.

“Of course my other passion involves getting dirty with something a little more sweaty and geared toward the bedroom or a convenient floor.”

Now there was the Ben I knew and loved. Loved? No, liked a lot, though. Enough that I thought I wanted to see if we could figure out how best to go at it on the floor without one or both of us ending up with some nasty rug burn. And despite those naughty thoughts I was pretty sure I still blushed.

“So on to the envelope we confiscated from Mr. Hedlund. Let’s open it up and see what was so secret he had to hide it under a sink, in an envelope, and practically glued shut.”

Ben worked on the closed envelope while I wandered around a bit. His apartment wasn’t exactly bachelor-pad material, as he had some really nice antique pieces. A beautiful armoire stood at the wall in the living room and, of course, housed a larger than average television along with a big collection of DVDs and CDs. Then there were the video game systems; the man had everything since the Atari came out, and games to go with each of them. Typical male.

A piecrust table held a disreputable and scarred wooden bowl filled with keys and change. A Tiffany-style lamp sat on a nicely aged leather-topped table, which brought me to the couch. Were guys incapable of having a place to sit that did not involve the use of duct tape? The monstrosity in the middle of the living room was some horrid orange-and-green plaid pattern from the seventies and needed, desperately, to hit the garbage dump. Not even a cover could save the soul of that poor thing. But over in the corner Ben had a brand-new-looking recliner in a plush sand color. Brown. My kind of guy.

Ben made a humming noise while he tried to pry the rest of the tape off the flap of the envelope without tearing the paper.

“Any luck?” I said as I turned from a collection of pictures on the mantel. All had Ben with a woman or women in some wilderness-looking setting, and I didn’t want to contemplate how many of those women were not related to him.

“Almost got it,” he said as he worked a knife under the edge of the flap. “Finally. Now come on over here, Ivy. Let’s see what the client guy was hiding.” When I hesitated with my hand on the back of the ugly couch, he laughed. “I won’t bite unless you ask.”

“Ha, ha, now shut up and let’s see what we found.”

“We found? I specifically remember I was the one to crawl under that awful sink, and please remind me to tell Nancy she should have her worker bees clean under there a little better next time. I almost made contact with a used condom and was not happy.”

“Oh, poor baby. How will you explain why you were under there? Now hurry, I’m getting impatient waiting to see what we found.”

Carefully, Ben shook out the contents of the envelope and we stared, horrified at what fell onto the table.