Propositioned by the Playboy. Cara Colter

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СКАЧАТЬ within her, and she wasn’t putting it away. The old Beth would have worried about the awkwardness when she saw him again. But the new Beth couldn’t wait.

      She was alive. She had been sleeping, deliberately, ever since the fiasco with Ralph/Rock. She’d been wounded and had retreated to lick her wounds. She had convinced herself she was retreating for good.

      And then, as if the universe had plans for her that she could not even fathom, along had come Kyle, and then his uncle, and then a tree house in her backyard, all the events of the past weeks beckoning to her, calling to her.

      Live. She needed to live. Even if it was scary. She needed to embrace the wonderful, unpredictable adventure that was life. Not just live, she thought, but live by Ben’s credo: dangerously.

      Hilarious to have a turning point over a crossword puzzle, but Ben had shown her that. Have fun. Throw out the rules from time to time.

      Now it was Sunday morning, and his truck pulled up in front of her house, and he got out. Was his glance toward her window wary? As if he didn’t know what to expect?

      That was good, because she had a sneaking suspicion that in the past he was the one in control when it came to relationships. He was the one who decided what was happening and when.

      Ben Anderson, she said to herself, you have met your match. And then she contemplated that with wicked delight.

      A week ago she would not have considered herself any kind of match for Ben Anderson.

      For a moment caution tried to rear its reasonable head. It tried to tell her there was a reason she had not considered herself any kind of a match for him. Because he was obviously way more experienced than her. She didn’t really know him. They were polar opposites in every way.

      But below the voice of reason, another voice sang. That it had seen how he was with his nephew, how calm and responsible and willing to sacrifice that he was. And it had seen his vision for her backyard taking shape, his plan, that whimsical tree house speaking to her heart and soul, as if he also saw the things about her that no one else did. Just as she had seen him, pure and unvarnished, when he talked about his sister.

      And then, when she had kissed him last night she had tasted something on his lips.

      Truth. His truth. Strength and loneliness. Playfulness and remoteness. Need and denial of need.

      He had already strapped on his tool apron when she came out the door with hot coffee for him and a hot chocolate for Kyle. He took his coffee, said good morning, gruffly, as though they were strangers, but his eyes strayed to her lips before they skittered away.

      “Guess what?” Kyle told her. “Mary Kay and I went to the planetarium last night.”

      “And how was that?” she asked.

      “Awesome,” he breathed.

      She saw in him what she had always wanted for him, a capacity to know excitement, to feel joy, to be just an ordinary kid, a boy moving toward manhood, who could have a crush on a girl and still love tree houses at the very same time.

      She glanced at Ben, and knew he saw it, too, and saw the incredible tenderness in his eyes as he looked at Kyle.

      And she knew he could say whatever he wanted, but she would always know what was true about him.

      “Could I bring her here and show her the tree house?” Kyle asked. “When we’re done?”

      “Of course,” Beth said.

      “It’s not going to get done if we stand around here, drinking coffee,” Ben said, and set his down deliberately. “Kyle, you can start hauling lumber from the truck for the platform. Stack it here.”

      Ben looked like he intended to ignore Beth, but she had a different idea altogether. She had found an old tool belt in the basement, and she strapped it on, too, picked up some boards and headed for the stairs.

      “What are you doing?” he asked.

      “I’m helping.”

      “You don’t know anything about building a staircase,” he said with a scowl.

      “Well, you didn’t know anything about crossword puzzles, either.”

      “We don’t want this to end like that,” he said. “Building things isn’t like doing a crossword puzzle. There’s a purpose to it.”

      “There’s a purpose to crossword puzzles,” she told him dangerously.

      “Which is?” he said skeptically.

      “They build brain power.”

      “But nobody gets hurt if they’re done wrong. If we don’t build this right, you could be up there in your hammock on a sunny summer day, sipping lemonade and reading romance novels, and the whole thing could fall down.”

      “Romance novels?” she sputtered. Had she left one out last night, or was she just that transparent?

      “It’s just an example.”

      He saw her as a person who had filled her life with crossword puzzles and fantasies! And annoyingly it wasn’t that far off the mark!

      But she was changing, but that made her wonder if it was true that nobody was going to get hurt from doing the crossword puzzle wrong. She was open in ways she never had been before, committed to living more dangerously. Rationally, that was a good way to get hurt.

      She didn’t feel rational. She felt as if she never cared to be rational again!

      “Show me how to hammer the damn steps down, and how to do it so that I and my lemonade and my romance novel don’t end up in a heap of lumber at the bottom of this tree,” she told him.

      “Ah, ah, Miss Maple. Grade-five teachers aren’t allowed to say damn.”

      “You don’t know the first thing about grade-five teachers,” she told him.

      His eyes went to her lips, and they both knew he might know one thing or two. He hesitated and then surrendered, even though it wasn’t the marine way. “Okay, I’ll put the stringers and then show you how to put the treads on.”

      In a very short while, she wondered how rational it had been to ask. Because they were working way too closely. His shoulder kept touching hers. He covered her hand with his own to show her how to grip the hammer. She was so incredibly aware of him, and of how sharing the same air with him seemed to heighten all her senses.

      Alive. As intensely alive as she had ever been. Over something so simple as working outside, shoulder to shoulder with a man, drinking in his scent and his strength, soaking his presence through her skin as surely as the beautiful late-summer sunshine.

      Before she knew it, they were at the top of the staircase.

      “It’s done,” she said.

      “Not really. At the moment, it’s a staircase that leads to nowhere.”

      Trust СКАЧАТЬ