Hidden Shadows (The Shadow Series Book 1) (10 page)

Yet he reminded her she was not a girl, but a woman. Full of power and prowess. She felt sensual, sexy, desirable.

She was intensely aware of the strength in his hands as he caressed them down her body, past the curve in her waist, over her hips. Through the vibration of a moan on his lips, she assumed he approved of those hips that had borne two children.

The kiss deepened and she spiraled with it.

And then as quickly and unexpectedly as it began, it was over.

“Now you know the answer.”

What? A voice? She couldn’t tell through the ringing in her ears.

Jenna shook her head lightly to clear the fuzziness, opened her eyes and focused on Ben’s moving mouth. The mouth she now knew could do so much.

“Were you saying something?” she asked, unable to mask the faintness in her breath.

A smile a mile wide spread across his face. “I think I got my point across, whether you heard it or not.”

Clarity roaring back now—she would not sway around flabbergasted by his advances if he found it so amusing—she stood straight as a solider, pushed back from the snare of his legs. “And what point would that be?”

“If you have to ask, maybe the question wasn’t that important.” Ben stood, casually stretched his legs.

The question? What question?

Then she remembered.

The Kidz Land parking lot. Her attempt to seduce, to aggravate, to bait—inquire about his sexual orientation.

He’d definitely wrapped that up with a big bow on top.

Doing what she did best, Jenna put up a shield, spoke primly. “I recall the question. There was no need to prove yourself to me, Ben. You could’ve just told me.”

“Well, now you know. And my way was more fun.” He grabbed a green apple resting in a bowl on the bar, tossed it in his hand. “Mind if I take this instead of that drink?”

When she only thinned her lips, he grinned, tipped his head in her direction. “Gotta get back to work, Ms. Gregor. Think I used my ten and more. Nice seeing you today, though. Real nice. Appreciate you inviting me in. I’ll be back when I have more time someday, make good on that sandwich offer.”

She cocked her head, irritated and intrigued at his boldness. “I bet you will.”

Her eyes followed him to the door, refusing to acknowledge that a certain part of his anatomy looked so magnificent in those dirt-stained jeans. He was a sneak. A cad. Arrogant.

“Jenna?”

Startled, she shot her eyes up as he stopped, turned in the open doorway. “Nice car.” He glanced around the entryway, “nice house." He stared straight at her, “nice lips.”

As he walked out the door, she heard the distinctive crunch of an apple.

SIX

Roused by several deep voices echoing outside her window, Jenna floated from her enjoyable dream to consciousness. She squeezed her eyes shut, cursing whoever decided to be the neighborhood rooster on a Sunday morning while wondering what in the world they could be doing to make so much racket.

Sighing, she rolled over with a lazy stretch and yawn, unable to hide her smile. Her dreams had been quite satisfying indeed.

The night’s imaginings about a particular man with a particularly gorgeous mouth were enough to leave her feeling happy and refreshed. So much so that she decided to make the best of the early wakeup call and start the day.

Rolling out of bed, she plodded toward the bathroom, not sure at all why she was so suddenly so enamored with the man from her fantasies. He
had
blown her expected peaceful weekend to smithereens.

After Ben and his lips left her kitchen yesterday, she spent several minutes in recovery mode. But the moment her mind sputtered back to life, she’d grabbed the phone, barked when Robin answered, “Need you—now!”

Her best friend was over in fifteen minutes flat.

Two hours and one bottle of wine later, Jenna could finally admit that at thirty-two years old, she’d gotten the “it” kiss. The one that movies always show, novels always talk about, and women secretly hope for.

So what was the problem?

She was, Robin none-too-sweetly told Jenna.

Jenna’s supposed friend informed her she was stuck. Stuck in the quicksand of Keith’s betrayal that she’d yet to churn out of. So she'd made leaps and bounds in many areas since those first days. But her stubbornness—a trait not attributed to Keith—and her bitterness—borne from Keith’s affair and leaving—left her with a suitcase of baggage she had yet to unload. At least when it came to any potential relationship with the opposite sex.

To Robin’s defense, she followed these allegations by letting Jenna know she was also the world’s best mother, best friend, best nurse, best cook, and if she let herself, could be the best woman to any man of her choosing——namely Ben Aston.

Far too annoyed to process the challenging truths Robin had presented, Jenna pressed her for an explanation of her confidence in Ben as a suitor. After all, Robin had never even met the guy.

Robin was prepared with a simple answer. “Jenna Claire, I haven’t seen you like this in our entire friendship. It’s a new you. A new leaf. Maybe even a new life.”

Jenna stared at herself in the mirror now as she began her morning cleansing routine. Wash, rinse, repeat, moisturize.

She splashed warm water in her face, hoping it would somehow relieve the uneasiness coating her stomach from mulling over Robin’s words.

The much too true words.

Jenna had never been unsettled by a man like this before. Not even Keith in their early days. In the falling-for-you stage.

And she could handle that. She could handle Ben’s flirtation, his attempts to corner and unnerve her with his charm. She could even handle the spectacular, out-of-this-world kiss.

But that didn’t mean she had to entertain a serious relationship. And definitely not a life-changing one.

If was far too soon to think of that.

No matter how quickly her heart beat in his presence. No matter how her stomach jumped or her head swam when he came near.

She was an adult. A smart one at that.

She’d been hurt before, betrayal of the worst kind. She did not intend for that to happen again.

The easiest way to do that was to keep your distance. Put up a barrier and not allow anyone too far in. If they left, so what? If they decided they loved someone else and not you, okay.

To Jenna’s mind, if you didn’t let anyone in the deepest corners of your heart, it wouldn’t feel hollow when they were no longer there.

Simple as that.

So maybe Robin was right (as usual). She was stuck. But Jenna liked being there, in the muck. It was safe, comfortable. And who said she couldn’t stay a while longer.

Was she expected to change who she was overnight? Forget her past and its hurts because of one kiss, because of one man that happened to give her phenomenal butterflies?

She turned off the rushing water, patted her face dry. Annoyed to hear the noise outside had grown louder.

Certain now that the deep voices she’d heard earlier were male and even surer that they were much closer to her home than any neighbor, she rushed to the front door, peeked out one of the two narrow vertical windows that flanked her door.

Before seeing anything that made sense, she heard a familiar voice dictating to put this here, move that there.

Wildly curious, she opened the door, scurried out on the lawn, and gaped at the mess of what used to be her front yard.

Half a dozen men wandered her property hauling tools, plants, pots, dirt. Mulch sat in mounds, smooth rocks in piles, and most of her former attempts at planting were evicted, tossed idly out of their beds and into a heap in the yard.

She gawked at the man who was clearly in charge. “
What
do you think you’re doing?”

“Exactly what it looks like, Ms. Gregor. What do you think so far?” Ben smiled as he gathered a handful of empty pots, tossed them in the back of a work truck.

“I think I have no idea what you’re doing digging up my yard at seven
a.m.
on a Sunday morning!”

Ben clapped his gloved hands together, sent clusters of dirt raining to the ground before crossing to her in two giant strides. “Good morning to you, lovely Jenna.”

“Don’t try to charm your way out of this one. What’s going on?”

“Boy, you sound strikingly similar to my third grade teacher. Ever thought about a profession change?”

“I’m not kidding, Ben.” She moved forward, poked a finger in his chest. “Tell me what’s going on.”

He wobbled back as if punched, laughed softly when her face did not alter.

“Okay, okay. Explanation.” He pushed off a glove, took her fingers gently, brought them to his lips, and kissed softly. She ignored the tickle in her belly in favor of the disorder around her. “I’m sorry about yesterday. About barging in on you like that. Shouldn’t have caged you in at the clinic either.”

“And this is part of your apology?”

“Part of. Thing is, it’s hard for me to stay away from you when I know you’re nearby. Hard for me to get you off my mind, really. So I came up with what I hope is a truce to settle things between us, get us started on a new foot.”

“I’m listening. And still concerned why a handful of strange men are on my property.”

“See that patch over there?” He pointed to the far left corner of her home, once unadorned, now dotted with shots of color. “Closest to the garage we've put in four bushes of peach roses. Picked as a nod to that lovely blush in your cheeks by the way.”

She whipped her head toward him, but he was already moving on, pointing out the next line of plantings.

“Here along the front of the house, we’ll be putting Caryopteris.”

He glanced at her shocked face, added, “Don’t worry, they’ll be on both sides of the porch, flanking it to create symmetry."

“I wasn’t worried,” she breathed quietly.

“Good.” He smiled broadly, gestured to one of the men carting a small plant with silvery-gray leaves. “See, Caryopteris. It's known as Blue Mist; one of the only true blues in the flower world. Come summer, once it blooms, it’ll be a nice shade of violet-blue. Almost like your eyes.”

He paused to stare at her, looked into her eyes for one instant before smiling again. “They bring butterflies too—so the kids might enjoy that.”

“Last but not least, the backs of the beds will be bordered by tall Sneezewoods. You’ll have to trust me that they look better than they sound.” He winked and grabbed her hand, pulling her a few steps out into the yard. He moved behind her, raised her arm with his, pointing in the direction he wanted her eyes to go.

He made a slow line with their hands, showing her that the flowers would be a backdrop to the other plantings and a frame for the entire house.

“Sneezewoods are beautiful,” he spoke softly next to her ear. “Their blossoms are all shades of reds and golds. But if they bloom like I hope, they'll be their darkest color.” He turned his head so his lips grazed the top of her head. “About the shade of what your hair looks like when the sun hits it."

“Boss!” a stout man with a ruddy face and thick forearms called in their direction. “Where these Knock Outs go?"

“Oh, and the Knock Outs,” Ben tipped his face to hers. “They’ll be weaved in too, chosen for, well . . . guess,” he grinned. “Pink roses,” he informed before calling over his shoulder, "check out the sketch on the dashboard, Butch. I’ve got ‘em placed in certain holes throughout. Main grouping by the peach roses. You can start there."

Turning to face her now, he finally released her hand. “Sufficient explanation?”

He waited as she took a breath, looked around at the confusion that now seemed beautiful. “Sufficient might not cover it. Ben, this is amazing. Unexpected. Sweet and kind.” She hesitated, still trying to process her thoughts, his words. "I sincerely appreciate all the kind things you’ve said. How you know the shade of blush in my cheeks or the color of my eyes or what my hair looks like in the sun, I’m not sure. I am grateful, though, and speechless at your thoughtfulness.”

Sheesh, she
did
sound like a teacher. But she didn’t know any other way to get through her words. Prim and proper was her go-to. Professional was her comfort zone. Feelings were too complicated, too scary. Truth too real.

Plus, her heart was only presenting two options: the formal thanks, or jumping in his arms and asking him to carry her away on a white horse.

She decided the former. “I do still have a question.”

“Please.”

She tried to soften her tone, say what she was thinking in the kindest way possible. “What are you doing? I realize there was great thought put into what you brought here today, intending to plant—”

“No intentions. We’re already planting, have planted.”

“So I see.” Jenna nodded to some of the men eyeing her. “But, Ben, as kind as your thoughts are, I did not ask for this. I did not schedule your services."