Never Too Much Read online

He’d made a lot of headway, too. She’d gotten easier with him, less rigid. She returned his kisses, freely touched him, and finally, she’d admitted to wanting him.

  But something had happened last night to change her mind.

  So many times since first meeting her, he’d glimpsed the deep mysteries in her eyes, the defensiveness in her prickly pride. He wanted Sierra to trust him enough to confide in him.

  He wanted her to trust him enough to give him . . . everything.

  Ben hugged his mother and kissed her cheek. “You’re right about that. I am in control. And I intend to take complete charge tonight.”

  His statement brought a troubled frown to Brooke’s brow. “Now, Ben, I didn’t mean for you to overreact.”

  “I won’t.” He tipped his head, studying her. “I have to get to work, so tell me, were you visiting for a reason, or did you just stop in with the hopes you’d get to see Kent?”

  He’d only been half-serious, but the second he saw his mother’s face, he knew he’d caught her. With mocking shock, he said, “Why, Mom, you flirt.”

  She jammed her purse strap over her shoulder, gave him an austere frown, and started grousing. “It’s a sad day when a mother can’t visit her only son without being harassed.”

  With that parting shot, she turned and flounced out.

  Ben chuckled as he watched her go, feeling reassured on many levels.

  No, whatever Sierra and Kent had between them, it wasn’t sexual. But it was special and Ben couldn’t help but be envious. Sierra shared herself with Kent, but she wouldn’t share with him.

  Throughout the rest of the day, he found himself watching for Sierra to return. He could hardly wait to start his newest campaign. One way or another, he’d get her figured out. He hadn’t met a woman yet who could completely stump him, though Sierra was by far the most complex female he’d ever known.

  Sexually, he wanted her more with every second. She was so intrinsically female, so . . . earthy. There wasn’t an ounce of artifice to her, not makeup, not perfume. Her physical appeal came through in womanly pride and confidence mixed with soft skin and hair, and the most luscious, kissable mouth he’d ever seen. Just thinking about her mouth sent his temperature up a notch.

  He enjoyed her company, too. She was responsible, independent, and she vied with his grandmother for having the shortest temper. She was cute, candid, often too serious but also sympathetic. And she kept some mysterious secrets.

  All those things made her a most unique and, as his mother had pointed out, special person.

  Ben had assumed it would be late when she got home, but at five o’clock, Gary, who’d been manning the front desk, jogged into the restaurant to tell him she was back. Ben might have felt stupid putting his staff on the lookout for her, but determination overrode such mundane considerations.

  He didn’t wait to see if Sierra would come to him; he knew she wouldn’t. Empty-handed, not a single peace offering to his name, not even a sandwich, Ben strolled across the street.

  Sierra hefted a large hardware bag from the back of the truck.

  She saw him but didn’t say anything.

  Ignoring her silent rejection, Ben caught up to her, kept pace at her side, and peered into the top of the bag. She’d bought locks. Lots of them. “Planning to lock me out?”

  “No.” She made a face, shook her head. “I mean, yes, you are locked out. But no, they’re not for you.”

  More secrets. Ben lifted the top package, an extra sturdy deadbolt lock, from the bag. “Getting nervous at night, are you?”

  Her jaw clenched, and again she said, “No,” but Ben knew she lied. He didn’t know how he knew, he just did. She was a woman alone, so she should be cautious. But why now? Had someone or something spooked her?

  At the front door she juggled the big bag in one arm and shook her key ring around until she got her door key in position. Ben didn’t offer to help her. He hoped to eventually confuse her as much as she always confused him.

  Once she got the door open, she stepped inside and turned to face him, blocking his way so he couldn’t follow. Given her expression, Ben assumed she felt safer inside, while he remained outside.

  “What do you want, Ben?”

  “You.”

  Her mouth opened, and then closed with a snap. She frowned.

  He eyed her militant stance. “I gather this means I’m not invited in?”

  Being rude didn’t come easy to Sierra. Ben saw her guilty flush before she firmed her resolve. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got a lot to do.”

  “Installing locks?”

  Her chin lifted. “That’s right.”

  Ben had no problem being rude, not when there was something—or in this case, someone—he wanted. He stepped forward, forcing Sierra to move out of his way. She did so automatically, then realized what she’d done and squawked at him.

  Ben wrested the bag from her arms and set it aside. In the process he noticed a sheet and pillow on her couch and looked at her with raised brows. “This is where Kent slept?”

  Her eyes glittered dangerously. “It-is-none-of-your-business.”

  Ben whistled. The careful way she enunciated each word should have made him back off. He wouldn’t. “Sensitive today, aren’t you?”

  Disbelief, quickly followed by outrage, darkened her color. She crossed her arms tight over her chest. “Damn it, Ben. I told you at the restaurant that I didn’t want to see you anymore.”

  “I know.” His soft tone served a direct contrast to her near shout. “I was thoroughly humiliated in my own workplace.”

  Sierra flushed with a wave of guilt. “I . . . I didn’t mean to do that.” Then with a renewed scowl: “It’s just that . . . I’ve changed my mind about things.”

  “That’s what I want to talk to you about. And I’m not leaving till I do, so how about just listening?”

  Her gaze filled with disgust. “It’s so like a man to leave a woman with no choices.”

  Such bitter words, Ben thought. Suspicions edged their way into his consciousness, and none of them were pleasant. Who the hell had taken away her choices? He discounted himself and his present actions because he knew he’d never hurt her.

  There were a hundred questions he wanted to ask, but he decided it might be better to put his queries to Kent. “Listen, sweetheart, I don’t mean—”

  The ringing of her phone interrupted him.

  Like a deer caught in the headlights, Sierra froze, but only for a second. She jerked around and rushed into the kitchen. Ben followed her. She sounded very tentative when she said, “Hello?”

  Ben took in every nuance of her features, and saw the dread that she quickly masked. Without a word, she dropped the phone back in the cradle.

  “Wrong number?”

  “Yeah.” A pulse raced in her throat. She took two slow, deep breaths. “Now, what do you want?”

  Despite her work clothes and firm determination, she looked so vulnerable, so small and delicate that Ben wanted to fold her into his arms and make all sorts of promises. He swallowed down that absurd inclination. “We should be friends.”

  She managed a credible smirk. “Yeah, like that’s even possible now.”

  “Why?” Ben hoped he looked more innocent than he felt. “You think there’s too much sexual tension between us?”

  She crossed her arms around herself defensively and refused to answer.

  He’d convince her somehow. “I can control myself, and I’m assuming you can, too.”

  She didn’t look overly positive, but she nodded.

  Ben held out his hands in surrender and shrugged. “You’re off-limits from now on. I won’t touch. I sure as hell won’t kiss. But we can talk.” He bent his knees, lowering himself so he could look her in the eyes, to read her myriad expressions. “Come on, Sierra. I enjoy your company. I really do. And we’re neighbors. That’s not going to change, right?”

  “You’re damn right.” She turned combative, jutting her small jaw at him as if he perso
nified everything evil in her life. “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

  Ben drew back in surprise. “I want you to stay.” He tried a laugh that sounded flat. “No reason to attack me, I swear.”

  Her small body trembled with upset. In a rush that mirrored desperation, she said, “Ben, I really do have a lot to do.”

  “Throwing me out already? Okay, but have we made a truce?”

  “All right, sure.”

  This time his laugh was genuine. “You agreed so fast, I’m not sure I believe you.”

  Her phone rang again. Sierra started, then set her jaw, stared Ben in the eyes, and ignored the phone.

  Ben gazed at her quizzically. “You don’t want to answer that?”

  “Whoever it is will call back.”

  “Right. I guess I’m so engrossing, you can’t pull yourself away?”

  A low growl erupted from deep in her throat. She whirled away from him and snatched the phone up.

  “Hello.”

  This time the fear was buried beneath rage. “No, and no.” And in a near shout: “And no.”

  Floored by her display, Ben watched as she slammed the phone down, then slammed it twice more. She kept her back to him, her body held rigid, her labored breaths sonorous in the otherwise quiet room.

  Kent’s words came back to him, loud and clear. She wanted to protect everyone. Was she trying to protect him now?

  Gently, his heart breaking with the need to hold her, comfort her, Ben asked, “Another wrong number?”

  She’d been pushed beyond her limits. Her voice broke as she said, “Please leave.”

  “Not on your life.” He couldn’t leave her like this. The mere thought of leaving went against every fiber of his masculine being. Not only was she female, smaller and more fragile than he, but he cared about her. A lot.

  She’d allowed Kent to get close. Sooner or later, she’d grant him the same rights.

  Ben touched her shoulders and when she didn’t jerk away, he smoothed his hands over the small bones, cupped the ball joints in each palm. She was so stiff, so tense.

  “Ben . . .”

  “No, shhh. I’m not coming on to you, I swear.”

  She laughed brokenly and dropped her head to the wall behind her with a solid thunk.

  Wincing in sympathy, Ben eased her back away from the wall so she couldn’t inflict more damage on her poor skull. “Regardless of how you might prefer it, Sierra, we’re friends now. I meant what I said. I’ll go on wanting you, just as I suspect you’ll go on wanting me. But I won’t go away.”

  “You don’t even know what you’re doing.”

  “Sexually?” he asked, because being this close to her, feeling so protective, so defensive of her, made him more aware of his basic nature than ever before.

  Laughing again, Sierra turned. She was breathing hard and her eyes were bright. “You want to have sex? That’s what it’ll take to get rid of you?”

  She sounded so desperate, his insides twisted. He kept his tone calm and sure. “I just told you, babe, you can’t get rid of me.”

  “You said I was a challenge for you. But if the challenge is gone . . .”

  “Sierra.” He touched her sun-kissed cheek and tried to make her understand. “How can it ever be gone when you provoke me with your determination to keep me away? Oh, no.” Ben shook his head, very sure. “You’re a bundle of contradictions, a constant dare to my manhood, and I like meeting each and every challenge.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” She softened and tried a new tact. “Ben, you haven’t known me that long, so there’s no reason for you to get drawn into my problems.”

  What she said was true, in the normal course of things. But his relationship with her hadn’t been normal from the start. He’d gotten one look at her and wanted her so badly he hurt. Ben wondered if she really had no idea how deeply involved he’d gotten.

  He gave her one truth she couldn’t refute. “I know you better than any other man knows you.” His voice dropped, reassuring and reaffirming. “I’m the one who gave you your first orgasm. Right?”

  Her eyes rounded, her breath caught. “That was a mistake.”

  “No way, sweetheart. I knew exactly what I was doing.”

  A comical look crossed her features, sort of a mix of chagrin and disbelief, then she exploded. “Fine. Great. You don’t want to leave, that’s just dandy.”

  She stormed away from him, slammed open a kitchen drawer, ripped out a hammer and tossed it to him. At least, Ben chose to see it as a toss, rather than an attempt at bodily harm. He was quick on the draw and caught the thing before it hit him in the abdomen.

  “Stay if you insist. But you can help me get my locks in. I don’t have time to stand around arguing with you.” And just to be nasty, she added, “Unlike some people, I’m busy trying to run a business.”

  She located another hammer and a screwdriver set.

  Her slurs had no effect on Ben. She’d invited him to stay, to help, so he could forgive her anything else. Besides, he knew she’d spoken in anger. And she’d looked so cute in her pique.

  Smiling to himself, Ben followed with the hammer while she carried her tools to the tiny living room. “Are we doing all the windows?” Luckily, there weren’t many.

  “That’s right.” She watched him, just waiting for him to complain. When he didn’t, she frowned. “Are you handy?”

  “Very.”

  She thrust a few screwdrivers at him. “So you know what you’re doing?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She glared at him in suspicion, her face hot. “I’m not talking sexually, you know.”

  Ah, but she obviously had sex on her mind. Ben gave her a sunny smile. “You think I can afford a full-time handyman for the motel?”

  He could tell he’d taken her aback with that disclosure. She gave a hard nod. “Fair enough. You start in here, and I’ll start in the kitchen.”

  Working side by side with her would have been nice, but he supposed that was out of the question. And in her present mood, it was probably safer. An irate woman with a hammer was never a good thing.

  Ben heard her rip a package open with unnecessary force. Since she was on the other side of a wall, he couldn’t see her, but they could still converse with ease. “I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me what troubles you have.”

  “No.”

  He’d expected that reply. “If I knew, I could keep an eye on things.”

  “No.”

  Three layers of paint covered the rickety lock on her living room window. Ben frowned at it. “I’m going to keep a lookout anyway, you know.”

  Silence.

  He wedged the screwdriver into place against the lock and struck the end of it three times carefully with the hammer. The lock cracked into two pieces, leaving only one embedded screw. “Piece of crap,” he muttered to himself, glad now that she’d had enough initiative to change the locks.

  Because everything was warped and rusty, the job took longer than it should have. Each room possessed one window only. While Sierra finished up in the bathroom, Ben took care of the one in her bedroom.

  Since he was alone, he looked around in undiluted curiosity. He’d been inside her tiny home many times, but never in this particular room.

  She’d decorated in a bare-bones fashion. Her twin size bed consisted of a mattress and box springs on a frame. Period. No headboard or footboard, no colorful spreads or dust ruffles. White sheets, a plain brown and blue quilt, ragged in places, and a standard pillow were tossed atop the mattress. Ben remembered the other pillow and sheet on the couch and knew she slept with two pillows, though he’d hardly consider that extravagant.

  A cheap window shade provided privacy. There were no colorful throw rugs to soften the cracked linoleum floor. A windup clock rather than a radio alarm sat atop a wooden nightstand that didn’t match the cumbersome dresser. There was nothing on the walls, not even a mirror. The dresser top held a set of keys, a little change, a few plain rubber
bands and nothing more. No makeup, no perfume, no bright hair clips.

  Sandals peeked out from beneath the bed, and in her closet hung a few shirts, a jacket.

  Her bedroom looked much as he envisioned a prison might.

  Her existence was meager beyond what most people could tolerate. Emotionally numb, Ben dropped to the edge of her mattress and just sat there. A strange, nearly painful emotion swelled within his chest, like his heart had just broken.

  Sierra stuck her head in the door, frowned when she saw him sitting on her bed, and said, “What are you doing?”

  Her tone dripped of suspicion. Ben pushed himself upright from the bed. “Nothing.”

  She didn’t look as if she believed him and glanced around her room as if expecting to find evidence of some nefarious deed. When she found nothing, she grudgingly asked, “You want something cold to drink? I’ve got iced tea.”

  Ben looked at her with new eyes, and the feeling in his chest changed, became dangerous and unsettling. He watched her so intently, she squirmed.

  “It was a simple enough question, Ben. Why are you staring at me like that?”

  Ben shrugged. What the hell could he tell her?

  Hands on her hips, she said, “Well, just stop it, all right?”

  He felt tense with the need to coddle her but still found a small smile. She was in such a bristly mood today. “Iced tea would be great. Thank you.”

  Slowly, as if she had to tear her gaze away from him, she glanced toward the window. “You through?”

  “Just taking a breather.” His voice was soft, his heart softer. Damn it, he didn’t mean to give himself away, but so many emotions churned inside him he could barely rationalize them all.

  Wearing a deliberate expression of indifference, Sierra shrugged. “Why don’t you just head off, then? I can finish this up.”

  Ben turned back to the window. “Nope. I’ll be done in a minute.” And then what? He’d have to find an excuse to come back tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. For some reason, despite their sexual compatibility, Sierra wanted rid of him. But the sexual attraction was strong, and he’d build on it, slow but sure, until he’d won her over.

  Grumbling low, she muttered, “Fine. Suit yourself.”