Big Ben, page 7
“They do a bunch of training with the dogs before they adopt them out. Rascal was a breeder dog, but they got rid of him, some genetic reason. But he’s happier here anyway. Right, boy?” The chocolate jumped from the step and threaded himself between Ben’s legs.
Jillian caught Ben’s gaze as he smiled. She pushed the wet tendrils of hair from her face. Thankfully the clip was still holding. But her carefully applied makeup had to be running all over the place.
“Oh.” His brow knit in alarm. “Let me get you something to change into. There’s a bathroom just past the kitchen.” Ben hopped up the step into a large, white-tiled kitchen. Jillian followed as the dogs kept close to his heels.
“Did you just move in?” Her eyes scanned the space. The room looked like it had never been used. A brand sticker was still on the oven door. Past the kitchen in one direction was a living room with a fireplace, but no furniture. A staircase clung to the wall on the other side, a doorway to what Jillian guessed was the bathroom nestled underneath.
“A few months ago.” Ben turned at the foot of the stairs and looked about the rooms. How would the emptiness appear to someone else? He’d never considered bringing someone here, so he’d never given it much thought before. And he didn’t want to now.
He took the first few risers and the dogs jumped ahead of him, racing to the landing. Except Rogue. Ben turned, caught Jillian watching him, her thumb twitching behind Rogue’s right ear. No wonder he was glued to her. That was his sweet spot.
“C’mon, Rogue, leave the lady alone.”
“He’s okay. I don’t mind.” Her voice lilted through the room, as if she stood right next to him. Rebel bounded down the stairs, sliding against the hardwoods before stopping at her bare feet. Even the new puppy liked her. She bent down and rubbed his blotchy face. “No puppy destruction from you, huh?” She spoke in honeyed tones, to the dog.
“Don’t let him fool you. He’s cutting teeth. But for some reason he prefers blankets to shoes.”
“My dog was like that when she was left alone.”
“It’s impossible to be alone in this house. There are four other dogs here!” Ben laughed and took the rest of the stairs two at a time.
Entering his bedroom, he stood in the closet and stared. What was he supposed to give her? He pulled a polo and hanger off the bar. He tugged on the shirt, slipping the hanger on the empty section of the bar on the left. He did the same with the hanger the dry pair of chinos was on.
The routine helped calm his mind. It was his nature to plan everything to the minutest detail. Not a compulsion, just part of his makeup, as ingrained as walking or talking. But since Jillian Welch sauntered into his resort, he was on edge. She had him off balance. He never knew quite what to expect. Not just from her and her comedic timing, but from his own reactions.
She was in his house. He stepped back, leaning against the wall as he peeled off his wet slacks and replaced them with the dry pair. No one had been in his house yet. Any friends who wanted to see him did so at the resort so they could get a free round of golf from it.
Bending down, he pulled the belt from his pants, realizing that even that was wet. Jillian must be so uncomfortable. Her legs were bare, and that red sweater clung to her. More so in the rain.
The pants went on the laundry sorter, the belt hooked over the top to dry. Maybe he should just drive her back to her room. She could change there. Did he really want to take her back to the resort in his clothes? That wouldn’t look good to the employees. Threading a new belt through the loops he decided he would give her a towel and drive her back quickly, before she caught a cold or something.
Except the top wasn’t on the Jeep, so she’d have to wait while he did that, or run down the street and get one of the cars from his folks’ garage. But that would just get him wet again. He groaned and studied the shelves in the closet. He opted for a plain white T-shirt and flannel pajama pants. He’d never worn them, couldn’t remember where they came from, but was glad they were there now.
Stepping out of the closet, he realized he was alone. None of the dogs were in his room the way they usually were. He usually tripped over them getting to the stairs. But now he could walk freely.
They must be with her. He couldn’t blame them. She was much better company. Ben bounded down the stairs, and froze on the last step. Jillian knelt on the floor, surrounded by the dogs, Rogue and Rake lay on their backs, offering their bellies up for scratching. But that wasn’t what stalled his heart.
Her hair had been towel dried, hanging in big round waves. She wore a dark green T-shirt, one of his warm-ups from college still in the rotation to be worn when he went running. It had the University of Oregon emblem on the front and his name on the back. She’d washed the makeup from her face, a creamy glow and freckles no longer hidden.
She looked fresh faced, and strangely familiar. His brain screamed recognition, but he didn’t know from where. On bare feet he stepped closer, studying, trying to place the familiarity. What was it exactly?
Renegade, the yellow lab, meandered his way towards Ben for some attention. Jillian’s gaze followed the dog. She smiled, but didn’t get up from the floor.
“I hope you don’t mind.” Ben studied the tawny color of her lips. Her color without the cherry red or peachy gloss. “I was freezing, and I found the shirt in the dryer.”
“Whatever works. I couldn’t figure out what to bring you.”
“I put my stuff in the dryer, but just on fluff. I think heat might shrink them and they aren’t mine to ruin.” Her nails scratched against Rogue’s upturned chest, eliciting a groan from the dog. Was it wrong to be jealous of your dog?
“The clothes aren’t yours?” Ben turned his attentions to Ren, noting that he needed to clip his nails later. Hoping to distract himself from wondering what Jillian wore beneath his shirt, Ben made a mental list of grooming he needed to do for the dogs.
“Nope. They belong to the magazine too. That’s why they’re coordinated with the bags, for photo shoots.”
Ben nodded, sighing in relief. She wasn’t a fashionista who spent every moment obsessing about her wardrobe. But who was she, really? And why did she seem more at home in his house than he was?
“What’s this one’s story?” She scratched the white dog splayed out at her side.
“Rake’s got a bad hip.”
“Oh, poor baby.” Jillian nuzzled closer to Rake who relished the attention. Ben joined them on the kitchen floor.
“He’s fine. He just can’t show.”
“Show what?” Her nose wrinkled across the bridge. Why was that so cute?
“In dog shows. A breeder couldn’t sell him, sometimes they’re put down for it. Rake got to come here instead.”
“That’s awful.”
“You think that’s bad? Another breeder wanted to do the same thing to Rebel.” At the mention of his name Rebel climbed into Ben’s lap. “He’s so mismarked, he looks like a mutt.”
“And the quiet one?” Jillian nodded her head towards the yellow lab.
“Ah, Renegade. He’s a guide-dog reject. He had a hard time learning all they were supposed to do.” Ben lowered his voice and leaned closer, near enough to smell the rain on her skin. “He’s not very smart. He has a great disposition, but it was just too much for him.”
Jillian nodded like she understood. Not even a wisecrack about how he lived in the world’s largest doghouse. His friends always jabbed him with that. Another reason he liked the dogs so much. They didn’t tease, or ask questions about your brother you couldn’t answer.
“They’re all boys?”
“They were at one point.” Laughter faded into silence. But it wasn’t at all awkward. Just the dogs vying for attention, glad there was someone new to give it to them.
When it got quiet Ben usually felt the need to fill it with something, but not with her. She reminded him of something his mother used to say when he asked too many questions. All the answers are in silence, if you only listen hard enough.
Ben studied her, trying to get a read on exactly what he was feeling. Was it just physical? Was he really that bad off he couldn’t control his thoughts anymore? Because right now all he wanted to do was carry her upstairs and kiss her until she melted and became a permanent fixture in his bed.
So lost in his fantasies he didn’t notice the time. Just heard the click of the door, the beep of the alarm pad, footsteps coming too quickly to move. Too fast to even formulate an excuse.
“Mr. Cannon, I’m so sorry.” Two gangly teenagers loomed in his kitchen. “I—we didn’t know you’d be home.” The boys from next door who came over mid-day to walk the dogs stared at Jillian without shame or decorum.
Ben shook his head in disbelief. Before dinner every person in town would know about the blonde sitting on his kitchen floor wearing his T-shirt. And if he answered his cell phone, his father would know too. Just perfect.
Jillian gave the boys a shy smile, enough to redden both their faces. He’d been thinking like a hormone-driven teenager just seconds ago, he knew what was going through their minds.
“I didn’t know I’d be home either. We got caught in the rain. Is it clear out?”
“Yeah, it passed. It was great though. We were playing Dungeon Wars and it sounded like we were under a waterfall.” The older brother spoke for them both.
“It felt like a waterfall when we got caught in it. Remember to wipe off their paws when you get back, okay? And if you go to the dog park—”
“Keep Rebel on a leash. We know.”
Ben watched them hook the leashes to the dogs and lead them out of the house. Rogue seemed to want to stay, but he joined the others without too much fuss.
“I miss that.” A resigned sigh escaped Jillian as she slunk farther against the floor.
“Being a teenager?” Ben laughed, wondering if he should get up or stay on his kitchen floor with her. He didn’t even have a sofa to invite her to sit on. Just a recliner in the den in front of the television. Furniture shopping was a must. Tomorrow.
“No, having a dog.”
“You should get one.”
“I couldn’t have a dog in New York.”
“Lots of people do.”
“I know. There’s dog walkers and puppy day care, but I like big dogs, and they need room to run. And I have roommates who would freak out. Plus, I’m never home.” Another heavy sigh did nothing to lighten her expression.
“All that dating?” He was trying for levity, but her features became pointed, sharp.
“I’m not some kind of—”
“Dating Diva? You kind of are.”
“I research dating trends and report on them. I do not have relationships indiscriminately. I’m never home because I work a lot.”
“All that dating research must be exhausting.” He could tell he was annoying her, but she wore it well. Her features lit up with a passion he felt from three feet away.
“That’s not the kind of person I am.”
“And what kind of person are you?”
Chapter Six
“What kind of question is that?” Jillian scrambled up from the floor and leaned against the granite countertop.
No wonder he thought so little of her. She’d been throwing herself at him since she set foot in the pro shop yesterday morning. And he wasn’t that far off base when it came to her. Jillian never went further than a first date and a peck on the cheek with any of the dates for her column. But she wanted more from Ben.
“I don’t mean to offend you, I just can’t get a handle on what’s going on.” Ben sprang to his feet, but kept the length of the counter between them.
“What’s going on?” Jillian knew she sounded like an impertinent child, repeating his question. But he’d ruined the moment. Sitting on the floor with him she’d actually thought that maybe— It didn’t matter. “I’m here to do a piece on how the golf course is the new singles bar. I told you that. After the mixer at Crosslands tonight I should have enough to finish.”
“You’re leaving early? I thought you were staying until Saturday.” Was that disappointment she saw in his eyes?
“I’m not leaving. I’m just done with trying to golf. I’m taking that storm as a sign from the heavens that I’m much better suited for indoor activities.”
“You’re getting better, Jillian. Really.” The corners of his mouth turned up, but just his mouth. His eyes and forehead stayed the same. A fake smile.
He either had no idea she was flirting with him, or he did know and didn’t want to embarrass her. Had he flirted earlier out of pity? She waved her hand, dismissing his comment and the negative thought. At this point she’d take a pity kiss. Just to prove that what she held onto was a fantasy, a creation of her overactive imagination.
Ben stepped closer, finally within touching distance. “We’ll give it another shot tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow I need to hire a taxi. Or rent a town car, though that could get expensive.”
“Where do you need to go?”
“Toledo.” Leaning closer, Jillian took a deep breath, memorizing the way rain and grass smelled on him. “My mom wants me to come home for the day.”
“Toledo’s east of Newport, right?” He didn’t back away. If anything he moved closer. “It’s only an hour from here. You can borrow one of my cars. Lucky for you I have quite the collection at my disposal.” His lips quirked, but his eyes smiled bright.
“You collect dogs and cars?” Would he let her flirt back now?
“Nah, just dogs. I have a Jeep you could use, but I’ve also got the keys to Jay’s truck, and all three of my parents’ cars. If I were you, I’d take Dad’s Corvette. You could get there in half an hour.”
“Oh, I couldn’t.” Jillian’s heart palpitated at the very thought of driving that fast.
“Sure you could.”
“No, you’re very generous. But you don’t understand. I’m a terrible driver. Every time I drive a car, I run it into something. Inanimate objects so far, but I don’t want to take my chances. I haven’t been behind the wheel since I moved east.”
“Inanimate objects?” Ben raised an eyebrow, his fingers inching closer to hers along the countertop.
“Curbs, trash cans, mail boxes, trees, the house—that sort of thing.” Jillian felt the heat coming off his hand. What would he do with it?
“You hit a house?”
“In broad daylight.”
“Okay, so I’ll drive you.”
“Really, I doubt Cannon Meadows’ concierge service includes a personal chauffeur. I’m sure the front desk has a list of services I can call.”
“You’re really not going to take any more lessons?” Ben cocked his head to the side and studied her so intently she felt as if she’d sprouted a second head.
“No. I got what I need for the piece.”
“Well, if I’m not your instructor then my rule about not flirting with students wouldn’t apply.” His fingers snuck next to hers so gently she wanted to check and see if they were really there. But she wouldn’t look away.
“You’ve been flirting with me, you just won’t let me flirt back.” Why is that?
“Semantics. I’ll drive you. If you’re done with the resort it can be one hour each way of non-stop flirting. We’ll both get our fill.” His thumb caressed the back of her hand, sending electric waves up her arm and down her spine.
“Oh.” Jillian forced herself to think, to speak, and not lunge at him the way she wanted to. “I’ll be finished with the dating piece, but I called an editor this morning about doing a feature about the two resorts. Comparing and contrasting how the two can coexist successfully.”
Ben pulled his hand away as if she’d bitten it. “Why would you do that?”
“Because it interests me. I write about what I want to know about. I’m more than just the Dating Diva. I get an ear to pitch features at all the magazines the parent company of Mine & Ours owns.”
“You want to write about Crosslands and Cannon Meadows? Some kind of exposé?” Ben was no longer smiling, his emotions unreadable on his face.
“Nothing like that. I entertain to inform. Hard-edged journalism is just about informing. I’m here, the photographer is coming anyway.” Why was he so bothered by this? She hadn’t thought of his reaction, but she never imagined he’d be like this. “Who knows, she might not like the idea. It’s free publicity. Be pleased. Angela was ecstatic when I mentioned the idea to her.”
“You’ve been talking with Angela?” He stepped closer, his eyes widening in alarm. So close she felt the tension radiating from him. “What for?”
“Golf-course dating? You haven’t been forthcoming with your thoughts, and she hosts mixers. Why are you mad?” He had no right to expect anything from her. No right to be looking at her with that intimidating clench to his jaw.
“I don’t need any bad publicity. Not right now.” He stalked closer still, prowling like a cat. She couldn’t move if she’d wanted to.
“Why?” Jillian swallowed hard, trying to portray nonchalance. “Is something wrong with the resort?”
“No, it’s fine, and it needs to stay that way.” His voice was gravelly, almost a growl that hitched her breath. Made her all too aware she was completely alone with him. She didn’t even know where they were, really. His hands slid next to hers on the counter, then glided over the top with just enough pressure to hold them in place.
His gaze locked with hers. He stared straight into her eyes with an intensity that nearly buckled her knees. The attention made her feel fragile, womanly, powerful. All her life she’d wanted someone to look at her that way.
A look that felt like a proposition. More tempting than she’d dreamed, yet something scary buzzed around him. Ben Cannon was more dangerous than she’d ever considered.
Her stomach constricted as her breaths got shorter and shorter. She knew this feeling. This was the panic that made her run that night. And he’d barely touched her.
“Sit on the counter.”
