Never Too Much Read online

  It wasn’t a spacious mansion, such as his grandmother enjoyed, or posh like his brother’s new home. But it was his, and for Ben, that was all that mattered.

  He stripped off his wet shirt and tossed it into the bathroom toward a hamper. He was briskly drying his hair when suddenly every window lit up with a blinding flash of lightning. Almost at the same time, the motel trembled from a thunderous roar.

  Had they been hit by lightning?

  Ben cursed and started toward the window, intending to look for any damage in the lot. He’d just pulled aside the curtain when the overhead lights blinked and went out. A thick curtain of inky darkness fell all around him.

  “Shit.” Ben moved back across his room to the hallway door. The storm was accommodating, sending strobes of light to guide him. He jerked the door open and saw only impenetrable blackness. “Where the hell are the emergency lights?”

  He no sooner asked it than the dim lights over the exit doors and elevators came on. His two employees stood frozen behind the desk, their eyes round in an effort to see. “Don’t move,” Ben told them, and ducked back inside for a flashlight.

  Wendy called out to him, and she sounded nervous. “The lights are off everywhere, Ben. The whole street is dead.”

  “Great. Just great.” Ben took the large utility flashlight off the wall in his kitchenette area and flicked it on. He got the other smaller flashlight from his bedside drawer. He heard a few late-nighters mill into the lobby and wanted to curse. Just what he didn’t need.

  Frustrated and tired, Ben directed Gary to retrieve the other flashlights from the inner office and to turn on the battery-operated radio.

  “Our electricity is out,” a young man complained, and the woman beside him bobbed her head. Though the walkways from the rooms were covered, they were both damp from the blowing rain.

  “The whole street is out,” Ben explained. “The lightning must have hit a transformer or something.”

  “We’d only seen half the movie.” The man drew the woman closer into his side and she gave a vacuous grin. “You won’t charge us for it, will you?”

  No doubt an adult movie, given their flushed faces and disheveled appearances. Ben hid his grin. “No, you won’t be charged. Just remind the desk clerk in the morning that your show got interrupted. We’ll listen to the radio and if the storm worsens, you’ll be notified, but in the meantime, there’s nothing to be done.”

  The two left the lobby, fondling each other. Maybe it was a full moon, as Sierra had suggested. To Ben, that sounded like a more plausible excuse for his extreme infatuation than anything else.

  He hoped like hell that’s all it was.

  He turned back to his employees. “If anyone else feels the need to venture out in this weather, remind them that the key cards might not work after a time. They could end up locked out of their rooms.”

  “Will do.” Wendy’s voice sounded ominous in the otherwise silent motel. “But what do you want us to do?”

  Ben shrugged. He could see through the front lobby window that Sierra’s lot was black. Sudden worry for her coursed through him. She was new to the area, unfamiliar with the house. A woman alone.

  He smiled at Wendy. “Play cards, make out, hell I don’t care. Just hold down the fort.” He started out the door. “I’ll be back in a little bit.”

  Gary snickered, then Ben heard Wendy mutter, “He was kidding Gary, so forget it.”

  Still shirtless, Ben stepped out into the storm. No reason to dress when he’d only get soaked again. The rain was stinging in force, the wind howling and so hard he had to lean into it to get across the street. The narrow beam of the flashlight barely penetrated the gloom.

  Already debris littered the road, and when Ben finally made it to Sierra’s front door, he saw that a large limb had broken from the tree, crashing against the front of the house. Her door was blocked by it, and the front window was shattered.

  It was late, the night black and the storm ferocious. He was worried, damn it. Ben flicked the flashlight around the stoop while calling to her.

  He didn’t get an answer. He stepped over the limb and pounded on the door, but still got no reply.

  Without a second of hesitation, he picked up a smaller branch and knocked the rest of the broken glass out of the window, then climbed inside, being careful not to cut himself or step on her bed with his wet shoes. Not that it would matter—her mattress was already damp.

  Over the roar of the storm, he heard a muffled sound and followed it down the short hall. He had to step around packing boxes and crates and pieces of furniture.

  “Sierra?”

  Behind a closed door, Ben heard a loud thump, then a low curse. Alarmed, he jerked the door open, bounced the flashlight beam around—and found Sierra sprawled naked on her backside, just outside the shower stall.

  Ben stared hard. He didn’t really mean to, but . . . his gaze wouldn’t budge. She had a towel in her hand, but it didn’t cover a single inch of her bare, wet body. Ben forgot to breathe. Her work clothes had hid a very sweet little figure.

  Sierra looked up at him and her green eyes, in the glare of the light, snapped with fury. “Out!”

  Still a little dumbfounded, Ben turned his back. He didn’t want to. Hell no, he didn’t want to. He swallowed and tried to collect his wits, but he just kept seeing her, her legs straight out, her round breasts glistening with water. And her belly. Jesus, she had a sexy belly.

  She looked even better out of her clothes than in them.

  “Sierra?”

  “If you look, I swear I’ll kill you.” She had a mean voice when provoked.

  But her warning was too late. He’d already looked. Her image was permanently emblazoned on his brain. Lust coiled inside him. “It might be worth it,” he suggested and heard her horrified gasp. Women could be so funny about nudity. Ben shook his head, and relented. “I’m teasing, so don’t shoot me. I won’t turn around until you’re covered.”

  He heard her moving, heard her grumble. She was naked behind him.

  Ben cleared his throat. “Did you hurt yourself?” With concern motivating him—uh-huh—he started to peek.

  “Ben.” She growled his name like a bear.

  “All right, all right.” God, his awareness of her as a desirable woman, a woman he wanted, was so acute it hurt.

  There were times when he cursed himself for being a gentleman. This was one of those times.

  “Here, this might help.” Without turning, Ben held the flashlight back to her and felt it snatched out of his hand. He braced himself, half expecting her to bludgeon him with it.

  A few seconds passed without movement, and Ben grew impatient. “You aren’t decently covered yet?”

  There were a few more seconds before she admitted in a small, yet defiant voice, “I don’t have anything in here except the towel.”

  Just a towel. Ben locked his thighs against temptation and barely swallowed his groan. “I’d offer you my shirt, but as you can see I don’t have one.”

  “I noticed.” The flashlight moved over him. Slowly. “Why is that?”

  Did her voice sound deeper? What game was this now?

  “I was getting ready to shower when the lights went out.” He shifted, on edge. “Once I realized you were in total darkness, too, there didn’t seem to be much point in getting dressed again.”

  Ben could feel her stillness, and her disbelief. “So you rushed over here to help me?”

  “Why else?” He grinned despite his desire and attempted to reason with her. “I didn’t know you were naked and in the shower, you know.”

  He sensed her moving closer and made a magnanimous offer, all things considered. “Tell me where your pajamas are and I’ll get them for you.”

  More silence. Maybe she’d decided not to get dressed. Maybe she’d decided to just take advantage of this very propitious moment . . .

  “I don’t have any pajamas.”

  Ben’s eyes closed and his hands curled into fists. Oh,
she didn’t just tell him that, didn’t just admit that she slept . . . naked. He shifted again, trying to ease the sudden constriction in his pants. “No?”

  “All right, this is ridiculous.” She sounded very put out, even with herself. “We’re both adults, right?”

  Ben had no idea what she was getting at, so he answered cautiously. “Right.”

  “Then I guess you can turn around. But don’t you dare leer at me.”

  Ben slowly turned. She had the flashlight in his eyes so he couldn’t really see her. “Tough to leer when you’re blinding me.”

  She lowered the light to her side, shining it on the floor, leaving them both heavily shadowed. “I heard a crash right after everything went black. Did you break in?”

  “No.” Despite his best intentions, Ben looked her over and felt the increased acceleration of his heartbeat. The towel was white and showed up in the darkness. “A tree limb came through your window. I just knocked a few pieces of broken glass out of my way so I could get in without cutting myself to ribbons.”

  “You snuck in through my window?”

  “Sort of. I called your name and you didn’t answer.”

  “And you were . . . worried? About me, a total stranger?”

  She sounded so disbelieving. “Exactly. By the way, your front door is blocked by a big tree limb. You should have that elm trimmed right away before one comes through your roof.”

  She groaned, then shoved her way past him. Now, with her back to him, Ben indulged his need to absorb the sight of her. Her pale shoulders looked very feminine and smooth. The towel hugged her round bottom and put those shapely legs on display.

  One little tug, Ben thought, and the towel could be relegated to the floor. His hands twitched—until he heard her gasp.

  “Oh, no.” She moved the light over her window, her bed, the surrounding boxes. Rain sprayed in, soaking the mattress, forming a puddle on the floor. “Damn, I didn’t need this.”

  She sounded utterly defeated, beat down with exhaustion. Her shoulders, which had been so straight a moment ago, now slumped. Watching her, something stirred inside Ben, something he didn’t recognize.

  He decided it was a new form of lust.

  Using her woeful voice as a reason to touch her, he lightly laid his hands on her slim shoulders—and shuddered with reaction. God, he was a goner. He had shoulders, for pity’s sake. Not soft and sleek and narrow like hers, but hell, it wasn’t like he’d touched her breasts or her sexy belly or . . . between her thighs.

  Just thinking that made him shake.

  He had to clear his throat twice to speak, whereas Sierra seemed almost oblivious to him. “It’ll be all right,” he told her. “I’ll block the window to keep anything else from being ruined, and help clean up this mess.”

  “No, that’s okay.” She sighed, then rubbed her forehead. “Go on back to your place and get some rest. I’ll take care of this.”

  Annoyance prickled. “I insist.”

  She glanced at him over her shoulder. “You do, huh?”

  The way she said that made him shift uneasily. “I’m a neighbor, Sierra. I want to help.” Then, cajoling, “Let me help.”

  She dismissed him without replying, and moved the flashlight over the window again. “My bed is soaked.”

  Mother Nature must love him, Ben decided. He squeezed her shoulders. “You can sleep at my motel.”

  Now she stiffened. “I beg your pardon?”

  As she slowly turned to face him, Ben dropped his hands. His eyes were quickly adjusting to the dark, and here, near the window, the lightning made it easier to see. The towel covered her, but it was still just a towel, with her naked underneath.

  And he knew what she looked like naked.

  Convincing arguments crowded his brain. “Be reasonable, Sierra. You can’t stay here. As you just said, your bed is soaked. Unless you’ve got a mattress in one of those boxes, you don’t have anywhere to sleep. Besides, it’s not safe with the window out. And who knows how much worse the storm might get?”

  She crossed her arms under her breasts and scowled. Her hair was wet, hanging in sodden ropes over her shoulders and onto her chest. She wasn’t overly endowed, but breasts were breasts and he could see the upper swells of hers.

  Her legs were . . . Well, they were the stuff of fantasies and he was already having a few. She shivered as she watched him and Ben concentrated on looking innocent, on wiping all lascivious intentions from his face.

  With a continued frown, Sierra turned to survey the damage again, offering Ben another opportunity to view her perfect behind in the very short towel. About two inches, and he’d be able to see her cheeks.

  When he finally got her naked and willing, he fully intended to spend a prolonged amount of time on her lovely tush.

  “Do you promise to behave?”

  No. He asked, teasing, “Do I have to?”

  Exasperation exploded from her. “Fine. Just forget it.”

  She started to stalk away—to where, Ben couldn’t guess—but he caught her shoulders and brought her back around to face him.

  “Ben!” She panicked and made a fast grab for the towel, which had almost come loose.

  He waited, but she held it secure. Shaking his head at himself, Ben apologized. “Okay, okay. Bad joke. I’m sorry.”

  Her eyes glittered in the darkness. “Was it a joke?”

  Ben tipped his head back and stared at the shadowed ceiling, contemplating the advantages of lying. But he decided against it. If he wanted her trust, he’d have to be truthful.

  “You know I want you.” Using his thumbs, he stroked the soft skin of her shoulders, up to her throat, and watched her eyelids go heavy, her lips part.

  Amazed, Ben realized how quickly she’d gone from ill humor to warm awareness. She’d done that earlier, too, when he’d kissed her on the stoop. He hadn’t wanted to push then, but he’d seen the smoldering heat in her eyes.

  He wondered if this was another part of her game. With any luck, he’d find out tonight. “I won’t do anything to you that you don’t want me to do. Cross my heart.”

  She seemed so undecided, so uncertain about what to do that Ben wanted to comfort her. He gently began easing her closer so that her body touched his. Just as she would have been in his arms, her eyes widened and she scowled.

  “Fine.” She shoved the flashlight at his chest, and in the process forced some space between them. “I want it to go on record right now that no matter what I might say later . . .”

  Ben’s eyes widened. “Damn. What do you plan to say later?”

  She ignored his interruption and raised her voice to talk over him. “I do not want to have sex with you.”

  “Ever?” Ben asked, needing her to clarify that much or he’d never get through the night.

  Her mulish expression faded. She looked down at his naked chest, breathed a little harder, then shook her head. “Tonight.”

  His knees almost gave out. He sucked in air until he knew he could talk without choking. “All right.” He touched her chin, lifted her face so that she had to meet his gaze. “No sex—tonight.”

  But he made no promises about the morning.

  Chapter Three

  Somehow, Ben’s promise didn’t sound all that reassuring to Sierra. She hoped his willpower was better than her own. Ben Badwin in wet jeans and a naked chest was tempting enough, but when he poured on the charm and freely gave assistance, he was too tempting to resist.

  But resist she must.

  She’d set up new priorities for her life, and she had to stick to them. So far that hadn’t been a problem; she knew what she wanted and she’d gone after it with single-minded purpose.

  Granted, she hadn’t counted on Ben in the equation, but she’d just have to get over her attraction.

  She was trying to convince herself that might be possible when Ben stepped closer to her back and she felt his warm breath on her temple. She’d been alone too long, she reasoned, or something so simple wouldn
’t seem so tantalizing.

  His left hand rested easily on her waist while the right held the flashlight. Even through her thick towel, she felt his touch like a brand. His voice was a low, teasing growl that he no doubt knew to be effective.

  “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but . . . do you want to get something to wear? Not that I’d insist, because Sierra, you look incredible in a towel. But since you’ll have to walk through my lobby . . .”

  “Yes.” Sierra stiffened her resolve. “I definitely want something to wear.” Sleeping naked was out of the question now. It wouldn’t be easy to sleep in clothes since she’d gotten used to going without them. She’d started the habit as an act of freedom and had quickly discovered it was more comfortable.

  She turned to wave a hand at the boxes on the floor. “My clothes are in one of them.”

  Ben looked at her, waiting, and she rolled her eyes. “I can’t very well . . . bend over, now can I?”

  His slow grin did funny things to her, but luckily he didn’t say a word, just turned with the flashlight and hunted around. Finally, he hefted up a box. Thankfully, it was dry. “Here you go.”

  He held it out to her while she kept the towel secure with one hand and rummaged inside with the other. She located panties, which he hummed over, then a T-shirt and loose cotton shorts. She stepped away from him and wondered where she should change.

  Ben cleared his throat. “I suppose you want some privacy.”

  “Absolutely.”

  He nodded. “All right. I’ll run across to my place to get something to block the window.”

  “There are long sheets of plastic out back. We use them in landscaping to stop weeds. They’d probably work.” She rubbed her head. Much as she disliked imposing on him, she needed his help. “I don’t have any nails or anything though.”

  “Sierra?”

  She looked up.

  “It’s not a problem, okay? Quit fretting.”

  How had he known she was fretting?

  He touched her chin. “I’ll grab a staple gun and be right back.”

  “Thank you.” For some ridiculous reason, she hated to see him go.

  He hesitated, then crowded nearer and looked down at her with a direct gaze that seemed to see right through her. “Will you be all right for a minute?”