Which she needed to keep in order to survive.
But he wasn’t telling her that he loved her.
Emma’s eyes locked with his, and that was how Greta found them.
“Land sakes, that boy can fill a hamper with clothes!” her friend complained as she walked in from the great room. She came to a halt in midstride and stared. Her eyes widened when she spotted Beaker sitting next to the stove, eyeing her back.
Greta returned her gaze to the table. “It’s nice to see you again, Benjamin Sinclair.” She set her basket down and wiped her hands on her slacks before she reached out in greeting. “You might not remember me. I’m Greta LaVoie, a friend of Michael and Emma.”
Ben stood and accepted Greta’s hand, taking it between his as he smiled down at her warmly. “Miss LaVoie. I certainly remember you bake the best cakes this side of the Canadian border.”
Greta, who wasn’t charmed by the best of men, blushed like a peach. “So you finally came,” she said, clasping Ben’s hands within hers. “I’m so glad. Michael’s been wanting to meet you for a very long time.”
“I’m deeply glad to have discovered him,” he answered before pulling away.
“And now you’ll protect him and Emma from whoever’s trying to kill them?”
“What makes you think someone wants to kill them?”
Greta frowned up at him in disbelief. “They were shot at. Their plane crashed. They know too much.”
“Half the county knows as much as they do by now.”
Greta nodded. “You just keep that boy out of this logging war. And who’s this?” she asked, going over to the German shepherd.
“That’s Beaker. Emma’s new pet,” Ben told her.
Greta looked at Emma. “But you’re scared to death of any dog larger than a squirrel.” She looked at Ben. “Emma Jean was chased halfway across town by a Doberman when she was seven. I had to walk that child to the store for six months after that. She had terrible nightmares for years.”
“She likes Beaker.”
Greta began petting the dog, who welcomed the attention.
Emma looked down at the table, picked up the application for her marriage license, and quickly signed on the one remaining blank line. Then she folded it back into fourths and pushed it to the center of the table.
A large hand swooped down and grabbed it, and Emma watched it disappear into Ben’s shirt pocket. She lifted her gaze to find piercing gray eyes staring back at her with triumphant satisfaction.
By God, she’d done it now.
Chapter Seventeen
I t was well intothe small hours of the night—the time when the mind is drugged with sleep, when dreams and reality mesh. Emma came awake slowly, her senses rousing one by one. The now familiar warmth snuggled against her side comforted her, as did the peaceful shadows of her room and the feel of her own pillow under her head. Only her nose was at odds with her surroundings, nudging her further awake.
She was smelling springtime. Flowers. Specifically, roses.
A sound was her second clue all was not right within her realm of security. From the floor came the soft noise of Beaker contentedly gnawing on a piece of rawhide.
Which meant the warmth beside her was not her dog.
Adrenaline fired her awake into frozen awareness. The heavy warmth beside her rose to loom like a dark specter as the blankets tightened, entrapping her.
“Sshhh. Don’t panic. It’s me.”
“Ben?”
“You’re a sound sleeper. I’ve been lying beside you for nearly an hour.”
Emma tried to throw off the last cobwebs of sleep. She was suddenly living her long-held dream of sharing a bed with Benjamin Sinclair. All of her fantasies bubbled to the surface—the warmth of his body, the welcome weight pushing against her, the feel of his breath on her face. His smell invaded her senses, making it impossible to tell reality from longing. She closed her eyes, savoring the feel of his weight.
“Wake up, Emma,” he whispered.
“I don’t want to.”
“I want you awake when I make love to you, Em.”
She opened her eyes and found his face mere inches from hers, his eyes aglow with reflected moonlight, his mouth a white gleam of humor.
“Okay,” she sighed.
“Oh no. I want to hear the words first.”
“Words?”
He blew an impatient sigh, wafting her hair. “The words to back up that paper you signed today, that give me permission to be in this bed.” He softly kissed the end of the nose. “I need to hear them soon, before I go insane.”
“I do trust you, Ben. With my life, my home, and my nephew. I trust you.”
The moonlight illuminated his frown. She knew what he wanted to hear; she just wasn’t sure she could say it out loud.
“And?” he growled, every muscle in his body tightening.
“And I think you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever met. You’re more beautiful than a sunset, and more solid than the mountains. You’re more man than I ever hoped to be with.”
Suddenly his hands were in her hair, capturing her head while he lifted her face and kissed her full on the mouth.
No vision from her imagination could ever consume her so completely. No other man could waken her feminine yearnings as fiercely. Emma parted her lips, matching his passion with her own. She tasted him, pulling his essence into herself as she struggled to free her hands to gather him closer.
He broke the kiss, drawing in a shuddering breath that matched hers, and stared down at her with eyes the color of polished lake ice.
“I swear, Ben—if the ground starts shaking again, I’m going to scream.”
He laid his forehead on hers. “I’m about to forget all about my noble intentions, your sore shoulder, and the words I’m still waiting to hear.”
“I can give you what you want without saying it out loud, Ben.”
“No,” he said, lifting his head. “We’ll seal our bond tonight, Emma, but not until you surrender yourself. You can be strong and stubborn and fearless with the rest of the world, but with me, right now, you need to let down your guard. No pretenses. No digressions. I want you warm and soft and vulnerable, and that begins with you saying the words out loud.”
He was done with the chase, and he wasn’t about to settle for a compromise. He wanted total, complete, irrevocable surrender.
“I love you,” she whispered. “I always have and I always will. I’ve been waiting fifteen years for you to come for me.”
She waited, then said, “I’m not the only one baring her soul here, Sinclair.”
”Don’t you know that I love you!” His mouth captured hers again, making her burn all the way to the center of her being.
As a declaration of love, it was about as romantic and subtle as a bull moose bugling its intentions. Ben tore the blankets from the bed and fell on her with all the finesse of a man well beyond his patience. Completely naked, he scorched her skin right through her flimsy nightgown.
Smelling roses again, Emma opened her eyes to see petals floating through the air, set off by the blankets thrown to the floor. She was completely surrounded by rose petals, and by the man who had strewn them over the bed while she slept.
With an eagerness that matched his, Emma wrapped her arms around Ben’s neck and met his passion, raining kisses over the hard planes of his face, feeling the scratch of his beard tickle her with joy.
“I love you,” she whispered into his ear just before she lightly bit it.
He laughed out loud, the sound warming her. He found the neck of her nightgown and ripped it down to her waist as he pulled it from her shoulders. Another cloud of petals filled the air, dancing in the moonlight as lightly as her heart.
He suddenly stopped above her, then leaned down and softly kissed the bandage on her left shoulder. “My God, I could have lost you.” He gathered her against him fiercely. “I nearly lost you.”