BRINGING BENJY HOME Read online

  "Let me go," she said softly.

  His hand on her shoulders flexed and smoothed caressingly.

  He shook his head slightly.

  "Please."

  The word was a whimper in her throat, and he interpreted it as he wished. He slid off the bed to face her, kneeling just as she was. His stance was wide and he trailed his hands down to force her hips into the cradle of his.

  Her gasp was buried against his chest. His mouth went immediately to her throat. She shuddered and reached up to anchor herself by clutching his biceps. More than anything else he wanted to lose himself in this woman. Emotion churned through him, aching for a release. He knew her skin burned where it met his, just as his did. Pinpoints of electricity danced between them everywhere they touched. The vision of black, silk sheets under their entwined bodies beckoned him further.

  He captured the pulse that beat at the base of her neck with his mouth, teasing it with his tongue. It fluttered madly, signaling her distress, or her desire. He recognized the complexity of her emotions, because they mirrored his own.

  Jaida shuddered. This time there was no conscious fear of visions that would intrude. Her response to his touch was too magnetic for that. Its nature was even more terrifying. She'd lived her life carefully, sure she'd never find a man she could trust enough to be vulnerable in this way. And she was vulnerable. His touch stripped her of all illusions, leaving her nowhere to hide, no way to pretend she could control her own responses.

  Her lips parted naturally as his mouth covered hers, already knowing him, ready for his taste. Her fingers dug into his taut skin, and her head was driven back with the force of their passion. Their tongues mated, and a shiver of delight spiraled down to her stomach. When his hand rose to cover her breast, she felt scorched through her clothes. Still, she couldn't prevent herself from thrusting forward into his palm. He closed his hand around her, taunting her nipple with his thumb. The pleasure that careened through her was wildfire, leaving embers of desire in its wake.

  She felt the carpet at her back, and her eyelids flickered dazedly; she was unaware she and Trey had moved. He was leaning half over her. As he dropped a series of kisses at the corner of her mouth, his knee parted her legs and pressed against her warm center. His mouth came down on hers more fiercely then, and he pulled her shirt from her waistband and slid his hand up her smooth waist to cup her breast once more. The intimate actions combined to jolt her from her desire-induced lethargy, and she cried out in a mixture of surprise and fear.

  He murmured something into her ear, low and soothing, but she couldn't concentrate on his words. Last night had proven that she couldn't predict her reaction to him. Far from being assailed by his emotional sensations, she was swamped by her own. They were exciting, enticing and totally unfamiliar.

  They scared her to death.

  "Let me go." Her words were more a plea than a demand, and he went instantly still. A moment later he moved away from her, using exaggerated care, and she rose, fleeing to the terrace.

  She sat down, hugging her knees against her chest. She wished fiercely that Trey would leave without further words. They'd been forced to travel almost forty minutes inland before they'd found a motel with rooms for each of them. She was fervently grateful for that. She needed time away from him, away from the flames that leaped so easily to life between them.

  His approach was silent, but she sensed the moment he stepped out onto the terrace.

  "You have your own room," she informed him, her voice shaking. "Use it."

  "No."

  "Leave me alone, Trey!"

  "Not yet. Not until we talk this out."

  "There's nothing to talk out. I want you to stay away from me."

  "That's going to be a little difficult, given the circumstances."

  "You know what I mean," she said a little wildly. He was being deliberately obtuse, and he wouldn't be denied. He was as persistent as water wearing on a rock. She didn't have the strength to argue with him.

  "Why don't you tell me what has you running scared every time I touch you?" he suggested. When she didn't reply, he continued, "I know that the reaction you have to me is new for you. We've already established that. It's new to me, too." She refused to answer. He contented himself for the moment by examining her delicate profile in the approaching dusk. Her features were fine; her soft, pink mouth sulky. He was pushing her, and she didn't like to be pushed. He resisted the urge to cover that sulky mouth with his own.

  "I don't have a lot of experience," she said in a low voice.

  Her words, not totally unexpected, sent a curl of satisfaction through him. "That can't be from lack of opportunity."

  She gave a little laugh that was devoid of amusement. "I'm a freak, remember?" She didn't look at him, didn't dare. She was afraid she'd see the agreement on his features. "I've dated, but I couldn't … I could never…" She stopped, chewed her bottom lip and wondered how to explain. "Being that close to someone, I couldn't block anything out. It's an enormous strain trying to shield myself from a person's thoughts and emotions any time I'm touched. I can't maintain that sort of defense indefinitely. And so I would pick up all his feelings, and they would just overwhelm my own. Or I'd get a glimpse of a vision and that…" Her voice trailed off for a moment. When it resumed, it was tinged with irony. "It sort of ruins the moment, if you know what I mean."

  His voice was inflectionless. "Is that what happened in there? Are you saying it's the same with me, Jaida?"

  She gave a bitter little smile in the falling darkness. She sensed the urgency behind that question. She wished she could lie to him. The one thing that Trey would be unable to tolerate was allowing someone close enough to sense what he was thinking.

  "No." She shook her head uncomprehendingly. "And I don't understand that, either. Everything inside gets all jumbled up, and the feelings skyrocket through me. But they're not yours—they're mine. It's so different." She didn't mention the erotic image she'd had of both of them against black silk sheets. That had seemed more a fantasy than vision, at any rate.

  A primordial surge of possessiveness arrowed through his gut. He doubted she recognized the significance of her confession, but he did. He suspected that she'd never felt real desire before. Once she had, with him, she found her emotions too engulfing to sense his. He was undeniably relieved at the realization. He was also completely, primitively, aroused. He'd have to be made of stone not to respond to her words.

  He acknowledged the futility of the desire that still pulsed in him, and frustration ate at his patience. He rounded the table and put both hands down on its surface, leaning toward her. "I think you're beginning to understand what scares you so much, honey, but you can't run away from it forever. There's something between us, Jaida. And after we find Benjy, when we're sure he's safe…" He paused meaningfully until she raised her gaze to meet his.

  "Then you and I will finish it."

  He stared hard at her pale, still face before abruptly leaving. Moments later, she heard the door to the adjoining room close.

  She took a deep breath and let it out in one long, shuddering gasp. His words had been rife with meaning, and her body couldn't decide whether to react with delight or fear. She hadn't replied to his words, hadn't needed to. She knew he spoke the truth. She should have realized long ago what it meant, this strange connection that leaped to life each time they touched. Certainly she'd understood enough to be wary.

  But not wary enough. A wary woman wouldn't have gotten in over her head, wouldn't have cared so very much about making a man believe in her. A wary woman wouldn't have sought to comfort him at the risk of sending her own normally skittish reactions haywire.

  A wary woman wouldn't have fallen in love with such a man to begin with.

  She buried her face in her hands. How was it possible to be so certain of her feelings for a man she'd met less than a week ago, a man she hadn't been certain she even liked? Yet something inside her had known him the first moment they'd met, something
that caused this purely electrical current when they touched.

  She'd always been a sympathetic person, always become somewhat emotionally involved in a case. But never had she thought she might be in love as a result. She had picked a hopeless man to love. As sweet as it had been to hear him say he believed her, finally, she knew well what a long way that was from any deeper feeling. He'd said he was a man without faith.

  She wondered if that meant faith in emotion … in love.

  Yet she knew he was capable of emotion. At first she'd been convinced that he was incapable of feeling, but then she'd seen him with Lauren and known she was wrong. And her encounter with William Penning had taught her what a true lack of feeling felt like. Trey wasn't like Penning, although he guarded his emotions closely.

  Granny had seen him so clearly the first time he'd come to the valley. She'd said there was a void inside him, and now that Jaida had a better understanding of what had caused it, she doubted even more her ability to fill it. Trey let only a chosen few into his heart, into his trust. What he had offered her—promised her, rather—was something else altogether.

  She shivered at the tantalizing prospect of fulfilling that promise, before rising and returning to her room. She closed and locked the terrace doors behind her. Benjy's blanket still lay forlornly across her bed, reminding her that there was something even more important to finish than whatever existed between Trey and her.

  With deliberate steps, she moved toward the brightly colored blanket. She knew even before she reached it that their desperate journey was near its end.

  * * *

  She awoke in stages, slowly and groggily. Her eyes stayed closed as she waited for awareness to completely set in.

  Her sense of smell was the first of her senses to become alert, and after a moment one eye opened. She was unsurprised to see Trey sitting on a chair next to her bed. She was startled, however, to see the tray he'd set on the bedside table. The sight wakened her completely, and she sat up in bed.

  Trey had learned a few things about Jaida West on this little trip. Waking her wasn't done easily and, for both their sakes, shouldn't be done by touching her. Still, short of an alarm dock in a cooking pot, he hadn't been sure how to get the job done. He'd hit on the idea of the breakfast tray, guessing that food would accomplish what he couldn't, or didn't dare to. He was amused to observe that his estimation had been correct.

  "Breakfast in bed," she murmured delightedly, her voice sounding raspy with sleep.

  The sound of that sleep-laden drawl had an immediate, predictable effect on his groin. He almost groaned out loud. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so hasty in congratulating himself for coming up with this plan. His eyes drooped as he watched her sit up, the covers falling to her waist as she reached for the tray. The nightgown this time was green, with tiny flowers strewn across it. It was as demure as her last one had been, but unable to hide her womanly shape for all that.

  "You certainly know the way to a woman's heart," she noted happily. Spreading a napkin across her lap, she dug into the huge mound of scrambled eggs and fried ham. "You ate earlier?"

  Amusement sparked again at her automatic assumption that the generous portions were for one. Which they were, of course. He'd observed her eating habits enough to realize the portions necessary to fill her up. "I ate earlier," he affirmed. "I figured this was the best way to get you out of bed before noon."

  She shook her head at him, her mouth full. Swallowing, she inquired, "Did I sleep late? What time is it?"

  "Barely nine."

  "That's not bad," she replied. "The post office can't even be open yet, can it? Is that how you were going to mail the blanket back?"

  He nodded.

  "Did you speak to Lauren last night?" she asked after a moment.

  "Yes." He'd called his sister after he'd left Jaida, and the tears he'd heard in Lauren's voice were just another reason he'd had difficulty sleeping last night. Although most of the credit was sitting in front of him, daintily downing a meal most truckers couldn't handle. "She was thrilled with what we found, but it's very difficult for her. The waiting."

  "It's difficult for you, too," she said softly, watching him.

  "I promised her it wasn't going to be much longer. I hope I didn't lie to her. Lauren can't take much more disappointment." Everyone knew the risks, had the same fears. The detective had told them that the chances for success in solving a crime declined significantly after the first three days. And Benjy had been gone nearly three weeks. It had been impossible for Trey to keep from reassuring his sister. It went against everything inside him to put his trust in another, but Jaida was the best chance they had for finding Benjy. Their future, Benjy's future, was in her hands.

  The knowledge should have made him feel helpless. He was edgy in any situation until he'd decided the best way to manage it. This was a situation he was incapable of controlling. And yet he felt energized, ready to act. Her presence did that to him. He used to get the same feeling in the military when one of his carefully mapped strategies was about to go down. He'd been a civilian for years, but the edge hadn't dulled; the instincts were still there. They were getting closer to Benjy. He could feel it.

  Jaida finally pushed the tray away, her appetite satisfied. No, it wouldn't be much longer. She had the same feeling, but was helpless to tell him more. She could pinpoint Benjy's location, but she didn't have the power to see what was in store for any of them once they reached it. The sense of urgency was growing stronger. But she didn't know if that was because they were on the verge of finding Benjy or because something else was about to happen. She knew only that time was running out.

  "After we drop off the blanket at the post office we need to head to the nearest airport."

  Trey's eyes widened. "You're suggesting an airport?" he asked dubiously. Then swiftly comprehension dawned. "Do you have a particular destination in mind?"

  Her mind played back the surreal vision she'd had last night when she'd clutched Benjy's blanket in her hands. It had been too soon. The vision had been out of focus, difficult to interpret. And then it had rushed upon her, flinging her skyward, and taken on a nightmarish quality. Looming medieval structures, huge lifelike figures from the Dark Ages that seemed more monsterlike than friendly to an eighteen-month-old boy. Being whisked away in a seat that whirled faster and faster, awing Benjy, half frightening and half exhilarating him. A huge place with a continuous mob of people, an endless vista of characters in Renaissance dress and a carnivallike atmosphere.

  "Have you ever heard of Kids' Kingdom?" she asked.

  Trey leaned forward in his chair, his eyes alight with fierce interest. "Sure. It's a chain of amusement parks scattered across the country. Their theme is medieval times."

  "I called the front desk. The closest one is eight hours away."

  "Is that where you think Benjy is?"

  "We need to hurry," she whispered. She couldn't explain the sense of urgency she'd felt in the last vision, but it had been too strong to ignore. She shivered in dismay at what lay ahead. "Somewhere, in the middle of all those people, is Benjy."

  * * *

  The customary sickness was almost welcome as the jet screamed down the runway. At least concentrating on that meant she didn't have to worry about where they were going. And how their destination would affect her.

  Her hand was peeled back from the death grip she had on the seat and encompassed in a warm, tight clasp. She gasped and tugged at it, but she was held fast.

  "Stop fighting me," Trey advised in an even voice. "At least when I'm touching you you're concentrating on something other than losing your breakfast. In comparison, I can't believe I'm that unacceptable an alternative."

  She stared at him, wide-eyed. He was right, the nausea was fading, to be replaced with sensations much more powerful, much more alluring. The electrical impulses jumped and sparked madly between them, and she watched his eyes grow shuttered.

  It was as if he were inviting it, daring the connectio
n between them to prove itself again, and a satisfied smile curled his hard mouth when it did just that. Warm heat flowed between them, and Jaida slowly let her hand relax in his.

  "Do you feel that?" he asked hoarsely. "A few days ago you jumped three feet if my fingers so much as brushed yours. But you don't anymore, do you, Jaida?" His voice was low, inexorable. "And it's not because the connection is any weaker, because that's still there, too. You're becoming accustomed to my touch." His thumb rubbed over the back of her hand, and she trembled in response.

  She couldn't refute the truth of his words. She suspected that he enjoyed the reaction that leaped to awareness between them, that he savored it. And the thought of just why he'd want her accustomed to his touch made her heart beat madly and her mouth go dry. He wanted her. As badly as she wanted him. He wasn't going to let his desire interfere with his search for Benjy, but afterward, then she knew as well as he that there would be nothing else between them. How would she go back to her quiet life in the valley after he'd jetted home again to California, to his family and friends? Somehow she knew that if she gave in to the passion that simmered between them she would have a terrible time dispensing with the memories.

  But then, the memories of him would linger, regardless. Would they hurt more or less if she just once followed her heart?

  He was right; his constant touch steadied her. She closed her eyes fatalistically and awaited another type of reaction, the transient visions that would transmit from him to her. For they would surely come. Passion masked them, made it impossible to concentrate on any emotions but her own. But in a moment such as this one, there would be no such barrier. She made no attempt to shield herself from them. Part of the price of loving him would be understanding him far better than he would dare to let anyone else.

  By far the highest price would be losing him when this was over.

  * * *

  They were the last ones off the plane. Trey had noticed before the way Jaida tended to hang back, making excuses to avoid the melee of passengers jostling one another as they retrieved luggage and jockeyed for position to disembark. When they were finally off there was only a short wait for their bags, and then they rented yet another car.