"Okay," she said with a nod of her head. "I should check in with Madison and make sure that the auction did well, despite my quick exit."
"Actually, Madison called your cell phone when I was driving you home last night, and I answered the call and let her know what happened." he told her. "She promised that she would handle everything for you, and she'd call you today to see how you were doing."
That said, he started for the door, but she stopped him before he could leave. "Ben?"
He turned back around. "Yeah?"
She was momentarily distracted by his bare chest and somehow managed to lift her gaze back to his. "Thank you for taking care of me last night and keeping me safe."
He gave her a slight, imperceptible nod. "That's my job," he said, then disappeared from her view.
Yes, she knew she was a job to him, an assignment he took very seriously, and she understood and respected his position as her bodyguard. But it was her own myriad of emotions that she wasn't sure she had a complete handle on. When it came to Ben, there was a wealth of want, need, and desire most definitely. Affection and caring was right up there, too. But it was the deeper, unexpected feelings wrapping around her heart that made her realize that she was falling for Ben in ways she'd never, ever, anticipated.
And she wasn't altogether sure what she was going to do about her growing feelings for him, especially when her life was finally her own and everything she'd wanted it to be.
Or so she thought.
FRESH from her shower and dressed in a comfortable sweat outfit for a lazy, restful Sunday at home, Christine walked into the kitchen to find Ben standing at the stove cooking up something that smelled so good it made her stomach grumble hungrily.
She came up beside him as he sprinkled grated cheese on what looked like an omelette sautéing in a pan. "Can I help you with anything?"
"Nope." He wiped his hands on a terry towel, then dropped two slices of bread into the toaster. "I made a fresh pot of coffee if you want a cup, and I'll be done with your breakfast in just a few minutes."
"Thank you." Pouring the hot brew into a mug, she added creamer and a spoonful of sugar, and stirred.
He cast her a quick look as he transferred the delicious-looking omelette to a plate and started in on another. "How are you feeling?"
"Okay." She took a sip of her coffee and let the warm liquid make its way down to her empty stomach. "That shower definitely helped to clear the cobwebs in my head, but I hate the fact that part of my memory of last night is gone."
He added fresh sliced mushrooms and chopped ham to the eggs, then started buttering the toast that had just popped up in the toaster. "Trust me, you're not missing anything worth remembering. Now go sit down so I can feed you."
Smiling, she obeyed his order and took a seat at the table, while he set a plate of fragrant food in front of her. "Wow, this is impressive," she said, taking in the fluffy omelette he'd made for her. "For a bachelor, that is."
He returned to the stove to finish his own breakfast. "Hey. I might love pizza, but I can't live on that alone," he said with one of his sexy grins. "You had all the ingredients for an omelette, so I took advantage."
Suddenly ravenous, she dug into her eggs, which were absolutely delicious with the mushrooms, ham, and cheese. "Where did you learn to make such a light, fluffy omelette? In the military?" she teased.
"No." With his own plate and coffee in hand, he joined her at the table. "This is a gourmet meal compared to what I ate for breakfast while serving in Iraq."
"Which was?" she asked curiously.
"MRE rations, a protein bar, or mushy scrambled eggs," he said, then ate a big bite of his omelette. "Learning to cook something decent to eat came from a lot of years of being on my own."
The comment was said ambiguously, but it made Christine think about how this man lived his life-alone, in a sparsely furnished apartment, and without any family to call his own. "You were on your own long before joining the military, weren't you?"
He'd just taken a bite of his toast, and he glanced up at her, his gaze suddenly dark and shadowed. "What makes you say that?" he asked gruffly.
Judging by his guarded reaction, she knew she was tiptoeing into personal territory he considered off-limits, but there was so much about this man she wanted to know and understand, and she didn't let his brusque demeanor dissuade her, as it had when she'd been at his apartment a week ago.
"I'm just going off of the conversation we had at your place when you mentioned that your father had passed away a few years ago, and that you had no idea where your mother was… nor did you care to know." She took a drink of her coffee, watching as a muscle in his clenched jaw twitched. "What was your childhood like, Ben?"
"It's not something I want to discuss," he said succinctly.
She rolled her eyes, unwilling to let the subject go. "Come on, Ben. We all have a past of some sort. You should know by now that I'm not one to judge, especially considering my own less-than-ideal childhood with a mother who was so intent on molding me into this perfectly demure lady and obedient wife to some man she approved of."
"At least you had a mother around." The barest hint of a smile made an appearance, lightening the moment between them. "Even if she was overbearing and controlling."
"That's putting things mildly and you know it," she said, and playfully pointed her fork at him. "My mother pretty much had my entire life planned out for me, including being a politician's wife. But you already know all that so stop trying to change the subject. We're talking about your mother, not mine."
"It's a long, depressing story that'll probably put you to sleep." He shrugged and continued eating his omelette.
"Luckily I had plenty of rest last night and we have the entire day ahead of us," she countered easily. "Time is not an issue."
He sighed, and surprisingly he didn't attempt to evade the topic any longer. "Honestly, I haven't thought about my mother and what happened with her in a very long time, and I'm not sure where to start."
"The beginning is always a good place," she said, trying to keep things light. "How did your parents meet?"
"They both lived in Perry, a small town in West Virginia. My father, Neil, was twenty at the time and worked in a local coal mine along with my grandpa, which is pretty much what all the men in that town did for a living and to support their families. It wasn't a glamorous life by any stretch of the imagination."
"I'm sure it was very hard, dangerous work," she said, going off what she'd heard on the news over the years about coal mines and the hazards of working in one. "But it's still a respectable job."
"My father and grandpa thought so," he said and smiled fondly, telling her that he'd at least had good memories of those two men who'd been a part of his life. "From what I've heard through town gossip, my mother is the one who pursued my father, and she was eighteen when she got pregnant with me as a way out of her own abusive family life. Of course my father married her, not only because it was the right thing to do, but apparently he truly did love her, too."
Finished with his breakfast, he pushed his empty plate aside. "After I was born, my mother started pushing my father for them to move to the city where he could get a better paying job. She hated living in a small town and the little two bedroom house my father bought, which was all he could afford with what he made. She wanted to live in Charleston, but my father refused to move. He'd been born and raised in Perry and coal mining was all he knew."
Standing, she collected their dishes and carried them to the sink. "And that's where your father's parents lived, too, right?"
"Actually, my grandmother, who was a wonderful woman, passed away when I was about five, and a few years after that my grandpa died from black lung disease. So, really, there was nothing familywise tying my father to that town, but he was a simple man who didn't need or want anything more than what he had."