Never Too Much Page 9

  Ben eyed her askance. When she’d walked out of his room only moments ago, she’d thanked him as if what they’d done had been a one-time deal. Almost as if she truly expected things to end there. Silly woman. He wasn’t even close to being done with her.

  Not by a long shot.

  So how could he change her mind? The only time she wasn’t trying to push him away was when he touched her. Maybe he should just keep her aroused.

  Ben smiled.

  The idea of controlling Sierra with sex filled his mind with delectable possibilities. It’d take some iron control on his end, and he wasn’t sure he was up to the task, not when he wanted her so much. But it would ensure him more time with her, and ingratiate him into her life when she’d claimed a preference to keep him out of it.

  She’d claimed he was trouble.

  Ben shook his head. Sooner or later, he’d break through her reserves. She’d admit she wanted him— and not just for one night. God, the things he wanted to do to her and with her would take at least a month, maybe longer.

  As Ben tugged her into his motel room, he grinned with anticipation. He had several scenarios already in mind, and he was determined that she’d enjoy each and every one of them. He could hardly wait.

  This was one challenge he fully intended to win.

  He looked down at Sierra as she snatched up her underwear. Her face was bright red and taut with both bad humor and embarrassment. She looked around and Ben knew she was wondering where she should finish dressing.

  “Sierra?”

  Absently, on her way to the bathroom, she said, “What?”

  “I have an offer for you.”

  She stopped in midstep, then slowly faced him with a groan. “I’m not at all sure I want to hear this.”

  Anticipation surged through his veins. “Oh, not only will you want to hear it, but you’ll want to do it.”

  She shot him a wild, somewhat curious look, and fled into the bathroom. Ben smiled after her. He had her on the run. Things were looking good.

  Chapter Five

  Brooke had never felt so flustered in her life. But the man standing before her, eyeing her with open appreciation simply stole her breath away. He was big, blond, bold—and he was leering. Men didn’t leer at her, ever. She lived in a quiet, older neighborhood. Worked as a legal secretary for a staid law firm. The men she associated with were . . . polite. Reserved.

  When she got Ben alone, she’d smack him good for leaving her in this awkward situation.

  “It’s a lie, isn’t it?”

  Brooke blinked in surprise at the muscled Adonis. His sleeveless shirt was snowy white, a contrast to his bulky, tanned shoulders. She could see dark blond hair curling on his chest.

  Worse than that, though, were his soft, faded jeans. They hugged his thick thighs like a second skin. They also hugged his crotch, outlining his heavy sex and making Brooke feel far too warm. His jeans were positively scandalous in how they fit.

  She realized he’d spoken to her and delicately cleared her throat. “I beg your pardon?”

  Despite her dark concealing glasses, she was sure he’d been aware of her perusal; his very sensual mouth curled, making her heart turn over and filling her face with hot embarrassment. “There’s no way you’re the mother to a grown man. You’re too young.”

  Out of long habit, Brooke’s defense mechanisms were strong. As physically appealing as the man might be—if you liked big muscle-bound hulks—she wasn’t interested. She raised her chin and gave him a truth that would obliterate his lame attempts at outrageous flattery. “I’m forty-five.”

  His piercing blue gaze went over her again, slower this time. His face was tanned, slightly weathered with smile-lines around his eyes and his mouth. His expression turned tender. “You became a mother at a very young age,” he murmured.

  Inside, Brooke trembled. She decided it was anger. “Yes, young and gullible. But I wouldn’t have changed a thing. Ben has been the center of my life.”

  “Incredible.” Disregarding her attempt to shift the topic, he leaned toward her, subtly crowding. “You don’t look a second over thirty, you know.”

  The thin-strapped, tailored sundress, which had seemed appropriately chic that morning, now felt insubstantial. She knew her nipples had tightened and she was horrified at herself. Because she couldn’t wear a bra with the dress, she also knew that he’d noticed. The fire in his eyes told her so, as did the way he continued to boldly look at her there.

  Her face burned with shame but she kept her tone level, even condescending. “Is that your best line? Because it’s really too absurd.”

  Smiling, he reached out and stole her sunglasses right off her nose.

  Brooke gasped at his audacity and resisted the urge to grab for them, knowing she’d look ridiculous. With her mouth feeling stiff and her breath coming too fast, she stared at him. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

  Holding the glasses loosely between his fingers, he propped his hands on his hips. “Come on, Brooke. There’s no need to hide from me.”

  She almost gasped again. “I was not hiding.” But she knew she had been. Meeting his gaze now was actually painful. It had been a long, long time since a man had stared at her with such intensity. It left her disconcerted.

  He shrugged those broad bare shoulders. “And I don’t have a practiced line. Truth is, I’ve never actually needed one.”

  Brooke could believe that. His grin personified wickedness, but she’d cured herself of attractions to wicked men a long time ago. She held out her hand. “My glasses, please?”

  “Certainly.” He didn’t give them to her, choosing instead to glance at his watch. “Your son ran off with Sierra and I’m thinking we may have a few minutes to wait on them. Why don’t we grab that cup of coffee, as he suggested? I haven’t had any caffeine yet and I’m in need.”

  Brooke hesitated, and he tilted his head to say, his voice a rough purr, “It’ll be painless. Scout’s honor.”

  If the man had ever been a Scout, then the program was in serious danger. But Brooke didn’t want him to think he scared her. That would never do. “All right. Fine. One cup of coffee until Ben returns. Then I need to . . . speak with him.”

  Her excuse sounded so lame, Brooke wanted to groan. Kent did chuckle, the sound low and rough and innately masculine. Disturbed, Brooke turned and headed for the bar. She was very aware of Kent behind her, his gaze a tactile touch on her back. Her sundress was modestly cut in front, hiding even a hint of cleavage, but low in back with criss-crossing straps. She now wished she’d worn a suit. Something sturdy and concealing, despite the weather.

  They stepped through the doorway and the air-conditioning hit her full force, making her shiver. She used the excuse of the cold to wrap her arms around herself, hiding her breasts from his view.

  One look at him and she knew he’d seen right through her ploy, but he said only, his mouth curling in amusement, “A hot cup of coffee will warm you up.”

  They sat at a small corner table and he returned her sunglasses—now that she was inside and had no reason to don them. His grand gesture also forced her to drop her arms. Brooke wanted to smack him, to wipe that smug confident grin off his handsome face, but she would not let him know how he bothered her.

  The waitress poured their coffee, but otherwise they sat in silence. Tension vibrated between them, making her jumpier than she could ever remember.

  Where had Ben rushed off to? She hoped he wouldn’t be long. The last thing she wanted was to prolong her time in Kent’s company.

  But oh, it was so nice to see Ben taken with a woman. In less than two seconds, Brooke had realized that he felt differently about Sierra than most of the women who threw themselves at him. It was there in the way he looked at her and Brooke couldn’t have been more pleased.

  “You have a lovely smile, Brooke.”

  At Kent’s comment, she glanced up and found him staring at her, or more precisely, at her mouth. Her coffee cup jangled in her
hand. “Thank you.”

  Gently, his look knowing, Kent set down his cup, prompting her to do the same. Brooke cleared her throat, wishing she could think of something to say to break the tension.

  As if he’d read her mind, he propped his elbows on the table and leaned toward her. “I’m sorry, but it just occurred to me.” His brows pulled together, making the blue of his eyes icy hot. “Is Mr. Badwin around anywhere?”

  Brooke nodded. “Yes, of course.” Surely, Ben hadn’t abandoned her all together.

  Kent muttered a curse and looked out the window at the broiling sun. “It figures.” He slanted his gaze her way. “Where the hell is he?”

  Confused, Brooke gestured. “He lives here in the motel. But I’m sure he won’t be long. Did you and Sierra have an appointment this morning?” Brooke was thinking that if they did, she’d have a good excuse to seek Ben out and hurry him along.

  The roguish grin slowly returned. “You’re talking about your son.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  She paused, but it would be easier to simply converse with him than sit in that edgy silence. “He said you’re working at the new landscaping business?”

  “Yeah. Sierra owns it, I work for her.”

  When she’d first met them, Brooke had assumed the opposite, based on their ages. “What is it you do?”

  “Whatever needs to be done. Some of the labor, the heavier digging. Stocking. That sort of thing.”

  “I see.” He had to be in his late thirties at least, but he worked a job often assigned to high school boys. Brooke didn’t mean to judge him, but she couldn’t help herself. She was well acquainted with men lacking personal pride and initiative.

  His look said she didn’t see anything, but that he didn’t mind. “Any other misters around—like the type who can claim you for wife?”

  Brooke’s back stiffened. When he’d first asked that, she hadn’t realized . . . “No.” And then, despite herself, she said, “Not that it’s any of your business.”

  He looked at her mouth. “I want to make it my business.”

  Offended by his lack of propriety, she dropped back in her seat. “My God, are you always this forward? Because I must tell you, I don’t like it.”

  He looked down at the table and toyed with his spoon. To Brooke, he seemed somewhat chagrined by his own behavior. “No, I’m usually more reserved.”

  She snorted at that bit of idiotic fabrication—and was appalled at herself. She never snorted, for heaven’s sake. But really, there wasn’t a reserved bone in his big body, far as she could tell.

  With new determination, he faced her. “Have dinner with me, and I’ll convince you.”

  He was very direct. “No, thank you.” Brooke looked around, praying Ben would materialize. He didn’t.

  “Why not?” His work boots bumped into her sandals—and stayed there. “You involved with someone else?”

  “No.” Exasperated, alarmed, she slipped her feet back beneath her chair and out of his reach, then went on to say, “I like it that way.”

  “Safer?”

  Her mouth fell open at his insight. She snapped it shut and gave him mulish silence for an answer.

  “I’m forty,” he offered. “Widowed, with a daughter who’s finishing up college.”

  “A daughter?” Brooke had always wanted a daughter, but she hadn’t wanted the marriage, the tie to a man, that would have made it feasible. She’d already done the out-of-wedlock parenting and knew it wasn’t ideal. Thanks to her, Ben had always had a lot to deal with.

  Pride shone in Kent’s eyes, making him more appealing than ever. “Her name’s Beth. She’s a sweetheart, smart as hell, engaged to a young doctor.” He sipped his coffee, thoughtful. His next words were very softly spoken. “Her mother died when she was sixteen.”

  Brooke’s heart thumped in sympathy. “I’m so sorry.” With an arrested expression, Kent studied her face, then shook his head. “A woman as lovely and sexy as you should never be alone.”

  Brooke had begun to feel for him, her annoyance softening at his loss and the gentle way he discussed his daughter. And he’d ruined it with one line too many. She pushed back her chair and glared down at him.

  One blond brow shot high as Kent looked up at her and took in her annoyed stance.

  Brooke didn’t mean to react so emotionally, to give so much away. Still, she couldn’t stop herself from saying, “The last thing I want or need is a man in my life.”

  Kent whistled low at her vehemence, but he didn’t stand up, didn’t say anything. He just lounged there in his chair, judging her every reaction, dissecting her. His manners were inexcusable.

  Brooke dug in her purse, retrieved two dollars and put them on the table. “Have a good day,” she said, and turned to storm away. Just before she went through to the kitchen, she couldn’t resist looking back over her shoulder. Kent was still watching her, his gaze so piercing she shivered.

  She rushed through the door and let it swing shut behind her. The cook looked up, started to say hello, and Brooke let loose with a long, violent growl that startled him so badly he rushed off to the sink. Men, Brooke thought as she stomped to the break room.

  That particular man.

  But her pulse was racing, her stomach flip-flopped, and she felt flushed from head to toe.

  No, no, no. Not again.

  Kent was staring into his coffee, still grinning, when Sierra and Ben approached the table. Sierra, looking rather shell-shocked and red in the face, slid into the seat Brooke had vacated.

  Somewhat curious, Kent looked up at Ben. The young man appeared very pleased with himself. “What’s going on?”

  Ben gestured toward the kitchen. “I was going to ask you that. What did you say to my mother to put her in such a huff? I saw her stomping off—and she never stomps.”

  Kent shrugged, and had to fight hard to keep from laughing. Her passionate outburst had reassured him that she’d felt some of the awareness, too. “I asked her out to dinner.”

  Ben stared in comical surprise, leading Kent into further thought. Was it so unheard of for his mother to get asked out? Or was Ben objecting to Kent on a personal level? Either way, he wouldn’t accept any interference.

  No sooner did he think it than Ben answered his question with a lighthearted statement.

  “She doesn’t date.”

  “She’ll date me.” Kent was sure he’d get around her prickly objections one way or another.

  “Oh.” Ben frowned, shrugged, then put both hands on the table and leaned over Kent. “I feel compelled here to offer the perfunctory warning about hurting her.”

  Kent eyed the young man with a new measure of respect and a good dose of humor. His mother was old enough to fight her own battles with men, but it was nice that her son cared enough to try. “That right?”

  “ ’Fraid so. You know how it goes. Make her cry, hurt her in any way, and I’ll break your legs, and so on and so on.”

  Sierra straightened in alarm. “Ben!”

  Waving her back to her seat, Kent laughed. “Warning noted.”

  “All right then. We understand each other.” Ben nodded in satisfaction. “By the way, far as I know my mother is oblivious to men.”

  “Every son everywhere assumes his mother is oblivious to men.” Kent took a quick sip of his coffee and then added, “Your mother is not.”

  Ben started to reply, then snapped his mouth shut and made a face. “Thanks. Like I needed to know that.”

  Kent laughed again. From the moment he’d seen Brooke, something had clicked between them. Something hot and thick and most definitely sexual. She’d done her best to hide that fact, which had only intrigued him more. “Why doesn’t she date?”

  “You’ll have to ask her.” Ben clapped him on the shoulder. “But a little advice, if you want to get on her good side, don’t rush her. Give her time. She prides herself on her respectability, on always being proper. It’s important to her.”

  Sierra choked and nearl
y spewed her coffee across the table. Ben just gave her a knowing look, making Kent wonder how improper the two of them had been.

  At the same time, he disregarded Ben’s suggestion. Brooke Badwin was in desperate need of a fast and furious, sizzling-hot love affair. Her son wouldn’t know that about her, and that was as it should be. But Kent had recognized the flustered hunger in her in the same way men had through the centuries, with fine-honed animal instincts. She was a woman determined to hide from her sexual side. He was just as determined not to let her. Not with him.

  He felt a thickening in his groin and had to focus on things other than getting the very respectable Ms. Badwin naked in his bed.

  To aid him in that effort, he gave his attention to Sierra. “So what’s on the agenda for today? With that downpour last night, I take it we won’t be planting after all.”

  “The ground is soup.” She propped her forehead on her hand and sighed. “With any luck and a favorable weather forecast, we’ll plant tomorrow. I’ll spend today getting my new place in order.”

  “I saw a window was out.”

  She glanced up at the young stud still hovering near their table. Almost grudgingly, she said, “Ben helped me last night. He put up the plastic.”

  Kent thought Ben might have done a bit more than hang plastic, but said only, “And you ended up here since it wasn’t safe to stay at home?”

  “That’s about it.”

  Ben shifted his stance, not too thrilled at being ignored. “That’s not even half of it, but it’ll do for now.”

  A waitress approached with the coffeepot and a fresh cup. She bumped hips with Ben, grinned and winked. Ben winked back.

  Kent watched Sierra silently stew.

  As the waitress served Sierra and refilled Kent’s cup, she said to Ben, “The phone’s for you, Ben. It’s Grace, and she said she has to talk to you about Aggie.”

  “Thanks.” The waitress left and Ben bent to kiss Sierra. “I better take the call.”

  She leaned out of reach, her frown fiercer than Kent had seen since she’d moved away from her hometown. “Who,” she demanded, “is Grace?”