Give Me Tonight(71)

"What did he find out?"

"His sister's working in a dance hall. "

"As a dancer?"

"As a . . . fancy woman." That was a delicate way of putting it. There were a hundred more colorful words that were more commonly used to describe a whore, all of which would have offended a lady's sen­sibilities. He wasn't sure if Addie would have taken exception or not.

"Oh, Ben." Addie's voice was soft with pity. "How old is she?"

He shrugged. "Sixteen, seventeen."

"What if she had more money? How much would it take so she wouldn't have to work there anymore? I can find some way to get some from Daddy. You know how tenderhearted he is inside—"

"I've already offered to help. Watts refused to take a cent. At the moment he's not thinking too straight. I'll try again tomorrow when his head is clearer." As Addie continued to frown, Ben reached out to touch a lock of hair that was trailing over her shoulder. He tugged it gently. "Don't look so worried. It'll be all right. "

"I hope so." She looked down at the floor. "Sometimes I can't believe how much unhappiness there is in the world."

"What are you unhappy about?" Ben nudged her chin up with the tip of his forefinger and smiled into her eyes. "Tell me and I'll fix it."

"You couldn't begin to," she said shortly, jerking away from him. "Just leave, please. I'm going to bed now."

"Leave? But this is my favorite part of the eve­ning. "

"Good night," she said firmly.

"I hope so." He smiled into her startled face, reaching past her to the doorknob, turning it with a deft twist. The door swung open as if eager to wel­come him. Addie was speechless as Ben pushed her into the room and closed the door behind him with a nudge of his elbow. He hadn't asked to be invited. Typical of him.

"B-Ben . . . " she stuttered.

"Hmmn?" He arched an eyebrow in casual inquiry, rolling down his sleeves.

"Ben, get out of here. I . . . What are you doing?"

"What I've been wanting to do ever since we were interrupted earlier." He was starting on the front of his shirt now, freeing the buttons one by one. Stunned, Addie watched with her jaw hanging as the firm, tanned flesh of his torso was revealed by the gaping shirt. Then she glanced at the door, unable to believe Ben had come in here and started to strip his clothes off. Was this another one of her nonsensical dreams? It had to be.

She heard the rustle of his shirt dropping to the floor, and looked back with a start. He was bare to the waist. He seemed much larger without the shirt on, his shoul­ders broad, his arms and chest heavily muscled. The expanse of abdomen revealed by low-riding jeans was etched with washboard muscles, sun-bronzed except for the half-inch of paler skin that gleamed just above the top of his Levi's.

Addie pointed at his discarded shirt with a finger that trembled slightly. "I told you to get out . . . I . . . Put that back on!"

Ben smiled slowly, walked over to her bed, and sat down. And held her eyes while he yanked at a boot. That calm, anticipatory stare was too much to. bear. She found her tongue and began to babble, certain that any minute someone in the house was going to find out what was going on in her room.

"Ben . . . Ben, stop that and listen to me. I'm sorry for the things I did tonight that might have made you think I'm interested in doing this with you, because I'm not, I'm not ready to do this with anyone, espe­cially not you, and if Daddy knew you were in here right now, he'd kill you, either that or tomorrow morn­ing you'd find yourself on the wrong end of shotgun until you promised to m-m . . ." Her voice stuck on the last word.

"Marry you?" Ben finished for her helpfully. He pushed his boots aside with one bare foot and stood up. There was an enigmatic softness in his voice. "In­teresting idea, isn't it?"

"Not very," she quavered, knowing she had no control over the situation, searching for some retreat. "Although I'm certain you like the idea of marrying someone with my money. And you know my father would give you everything he has if we got married, including the ranch, with no strings attached. Oh, I'll bet the prospect of being my husband holds no end of appeal for you."

As Ben saw her distress, the hint of ruthless amuse­ment faded. "To hell with your father's money and the ranch. I don't need to be given anything. I have my own resources, including enough money to do what­ever the hell I want."

"H—how can that be?"

"Mavericking is a highly profitable venture, if done well. And I had a particular talent for it. So I don't need your money. But you're damn right—the idea of being your husband appeals to me. And in the next few hours I'm going to show you why."

She was shaken by a chill and then a flash of heat as she watched him unfasten the top button of his Levi's.

"Come here," he said, his stare direct and com­pelling.

Before she could stop herself, her eyes flickered down to the shadowy opening of his unfastened jeans, where the lean stretch of his abdomen continued downward into a furring of dark hair. In the course of her work at the hospital she had seen men unclothed before, but never anyone so uninhibited about it. Peo­ple were always embarrassed without the protection of their clothes. Ben seemed to be entirely comfortable without them.