A Best Friend’s Vow

The hero of Flagman’s Folly has been gone more than a year. But he still stands between Ben Sawyer and what he desires most—Dana Wright, the love of Ben’s life.

When soldier Paul Wright left for the last time, he made his best friend promise to look after his wife and kids. Ben—good, steady Ben—is honoring that promise. And it’s burning him up inside.

Because Dana is shutting Ben out. She wants him—so much—but she can’t afford to give in. If she does, she’ll spill her secret, and the betrayal will hurt everyone she cares about—her children, who loved their daddy; her town, which loves its hero; and Ben, who loved his friend. She’ll do anything to protect her secret—even give up her second chance at happiness.

He touched her shoulder lightly. “Did you plan on sleeping in this dress?”

Dana swallowed hard. “Well, you can unbutton the top two buttons. That ought to get me started.”

Ben laughed softly, then touched the low-cut edge of the back of her gown. Her breath caught. When he undid the top button, his knuckles brushed the newly exposed skin. When he reached for the next button and the next, she closed her eyes, wishing he’d meant to set off the heat building inside her.

“This isn’t what I expected when I promised to take care of you, but I won’t complain.” He slid his hand into the unbuttoned back of her gown, pressing his fingers, wide and firm, against her. The soft material slipped down her shoulder. Goose bumps rippled along her skin.

To accompany the chill running down her spine.

“Take care...?” she repeated.

“Of you and the kids.”

She tried to keep her tone even, her voice soft. “And who did you make that promise to?”

He shifted, as if her question made him uncomfortable. A small gap opened between them, and her body cooled.

“Paul,” he said.

“Then it has to stop. As I’ve told you so many times I’ve lost count, I can take care of myself—and my children.” She tugged the lace overskirt of her gown into place. “And I think it’s time for you to go.”

Dear Reader,

I’m so glad to have the chance to tell you Ben Sawyer’s story, because it would not leave me alone.

When his best friend dies, Ben is obligated to take care of his friend’s family. He’s desperate to do the right thing...yet he has spent his life since kindergarten longing for the woman he now must watch over.

Thanks to the local matchmakers and a plan of his own, he and Dana are forced together. But his plan backfires, and he learns the awful truth in the saying “Be careful what you wish for.”

Now that Dana is within his reach, propriety and honor and a promise he made all keep him from stepping over the line. From claiming the one woman meant for him.

Writing this book, I found myself holding my breath as I waited for this honorable man to find a solution to his dilemma. I hope you find your breath catching, too, as you read this story.

Please let me know what you think of it! You can reach me at P.O. Box 504 Gilbert, AZ 85299 or through my website, www.barbarawhitedaille.com. I’m also on Facebook: www.facebook.com/barbarawhitedaille and Twitter: https://twitter.com/BarbaraWDaille.

All my best to you.

Until we meet again,

Barbara White Daille

Honorable Rancher

Barbara White Daille

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Barbara White Daille lives with her husband in the sunny Southwest, where they don’t mind the lizards in their front yard but could do without the scorpions in the bathroom.

A writer from the age of nine and a novelist since eighth grade, Barbara is now an award-winning author with a number of novels to her credit.

When she was very young, Barbara learned from her mom about the storytelling magic in books—and she’s been hooked ever since. She hopes you will enjoy reading her books and will find your own magic in them!

She’d also love to have you drop by and visit her at her website, www.barbarawhitedaille.com.

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In memory of F. D. White

an honorable man himself

and

as always, to Rich,

the best man for me

~~~~~~

I reckon there are many ways

to call a man a hero.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Excerpt

Chapter One

Always a bridesmaid, never a bride.

Ben Sawyer had heard folks say that of some women. Not the one standing on the far side of the banquet hall from him, though. The one who’d done her best all day to avoid him.

Dana Wright had once worn a long white gown and walked down the aisle to meet her groom. He should know, as he’d stood up near the altar holding the ring his best friend would slip onto her finger.

Now, if the saying held true for the male side of a wedding party, he surely fit the bill.

Always a groomsman, never a groom.

Always losing out.

No sense worrying over it. He’d made his decisions a long time ago. Still, he had to fight to keep his eyes from tracking Dana’s every move.

Twirling the stem of his champagne glass in his fingers, he watched the couples two-stepping past him. After plenty of turns on the dance floor himself this evening, he’d decided to sit this one out. Every once in a while, in a gap between the couples, he could see the opposite side of the hall. Just then, he caught sight of Dana disappearing through one of the glass doors to the terrace.

The newlyweds danced toward him.

“Having fun yet?” Tess asked.

“Absolutely,” he confirmed. “Like everyone else.”

Except Dana?

Tess’s groom, Caleb, swept her away.

Ben set his glass on a nearby waiter’s tray and began circling the room. Every few feet, someone stopped him. While he always enjoyed a good conversation, the interruptions came more often than he would’ve liked right now.

Finally, he eased away from a small group and edged over to the doorway Dana had exited through.

In the light from the carriage lamps outside, he saw her standing alone near one of the stone fountains flanking the club’s entrance. He frowned and went through the door, pulling it closed behind him without a sound.

Her back to the building, she stared down into the water pooling in the base of the fountain. Lamplight and moonlight combined to make the silver combs in her blond hair sparkle. The combs held her hair up, exposing the smooth, pale skin of her neck. A row of buttons that matched her long pink dress marched down to the point where a bunch of lacy fabric covered the sweet curves of her hips.

His mouth went dry. He’d have welcomed another glass of champagne at the moment. Hell, he needed it to wet his tight throat. To occupy his hands. His fingers itched to touch those buttons now taunting him.

How had she managed to get into that dress all by herself? Would she need a hand getting out of it?

He shook his head at the stupidity—and the futility—of his questions. Of his dreams. Nine-year-old Lissa had probably buttoned her mother’s dress and would unbutton it, too. In any case, Dana certainly wouldn’t want his help. She didn’t want his assistance with anything.

That gave him trouble, in view of the promise he’d made to his best friend. A promise he aimed to keep.

For a moment, he stood there considering his next move. Unusual for him. Folks teased that he’d talk to a tree if he couldn’t find a person handy to listen to him. Yet, for the first time in his life, he didn’t know what to say.

He took a deep breath and let it out again. Not wanting to startle her, he called her name in a low tone.

Without turning to look, she raised her chin a notch. She’d recognized his voice and gone into defensive mode. Hadn’t he known she would? The sight should have made him turn around and leave. Instead, he smiled.

He never could pass up a challenge.

He ambled across the open space to stand by her side. Her head barely reached his shoulder. He caught the faint scent of a flowery perfume. When she neither lowered her chin nor looked at him, he gestured toward one of the small stone benches near the fountain. “How about you relax and we call a truce for tonight? After all, we’re here to celebrate with Tess and Caleb.”

She glanced from the bench to the country club as if assessing the lesser of two evils. “You’re right, it’s their night.” With a small sigh, she took a seat.

The bench proved narrower than he’d expected and put him closer to her than he should’ve risked, truce or no truce. Their arms touched. Their elbows bumped. It would have made sense for him to wrap his arm around her shoulders. They were friends, weren’t they? But once he’d touched her, could he keep it at that?

Her expression softened. “Caleb went all out for Tess, didn’t he?”

“Renting the biggest hall within a hundred miles of Flagman’s Folly? I’ll say. Good of him to invite all the folks from town to the wedding, too.”

“He seemed surprised that everyone accepted. But I know they wanted to wish him and Tess well.” She smiled softly. “Tess makes a beautiful bride.”

You did, too. Without missing a beat, he changed the words that had come so quickly to him. “You’re looking good in that maid of honor dress yourself.”

“Matron,” she said. “Being a widow makes me a matron of honor.”

Which makes you a woman alone with three little kids. So, why won’t you accept my help? He couldn’t ask that tonight. Not after he’d called for a ceasefire between them. He probably wouldn’t ask that ever, as nine times out of ten, the shots came from Dana’s side of their conversations. She’d never acted so defensively with him before Paul died.

“What is it they’re calling Nate again?” he asked. Nate was the bride and groom’s nine-year-old tomboy and the best buddy of Dana’s daughter Lissa. Like the girls, Tess and Dana had been best friends all through school.

“A junior bridesmaid.” She laughed. “Nate stopped fighting over wearing a dress the minute Caleb said he’d get her a pair of boots made to match his. She held her ground about being a flower girl, though.”

He chuckled. “That sounds like her. Well, Sam’s little girl had a good time dropping those petals in the church aisle. I heard you made her dress. And yours. Nice.”

Damn him for using the compliment, but it gave him a reason to touch her lacy pink sleeve.

She shied like a filly come eye to eye with a rattler.

He clasped his hands together and stared down at them.

When he looked at her profile again, he found her gazing into the distance, unblinking. The moonlight showed her lips pressed together in a straight line, the way he’d noted much too often lately. Her cheekbones had never looked sharp before now.

Nothing could make her less beautiful to him, but it shocked him to realize she had lost weight.

She’d driven herself after losing Paul. Trying to handle everything alone had to be too much for her. He needed to stop thinking about himself—about what he wanted and could never have—and figure out some way to be of help to her.

He’d already bought the building where she rented office space so he could give her a break on the rent. There had to be something else he could do.

Right now, he just needed to get her talking. He cleared his dry throat. “Caleb’s fired up about his new property. I’ve got to hand it to you for that one. Nobody could’ve done a better job of selling that ranch, especially considering it’s bigger than every spread around here.”

She waved her hand as if to brush his words away. “That was Tess’s effort, mostly. I just stepped in to handle the paperwork when we knew she’d become half owner. Besides, she had to focus on getting married.”

“Whatever the reason, I know she was happy to have you help wrap everything up in time for the wedding.”

He knew Dana accepted help in return from Tess, too, when she needed it. Why wouldn’t she take it from him? They’d all been friends forever, through high school and beyond. Not Caleb, who at some point had fallen a year behind. But he and Tess and Dana. Sam Robertson. Paul Wright.

He thought of his best buddy often, recalling him as young and full of life. As part of almost every memory he’d forged since the day he started school. He tried not to think about Paul’s death a year and a half ago. Impossible to avoid that thought at the moment, with the man’s widow sitting on the cold stone bench beside him.

In all the years since grade school, nothing had ever come between Paul and Dana. He had always honored that. Now he had to make doubly sure not to cross the line. “Today has to be hard for you,” he said, keeping his voice low.

“Seeing Tess and Caleb so happy? Why should that cause me any trouble? I’m glad they’re finally together.”

She meant it, he knew, though her words sounded as brittle as the chipped ice in the banquet hall’s champagne buckets. In the moonlight, her eyes glittered. Had she tried for a lighter tone to fight back tears? Or to prove how comfortable she felt around him?

Why did she have to prove anything? Why the heck couldn’t she enjoy his company, the way she always used to? If she’d just give him that, he’d feel satisfied.

Sure, he would.

She’d grown quiet again, and he gestured toward the fountain. “What brought you out here? Wanting to make a wish?”

She shook her head. “No. Those are for people who aren’t willing to work hard to get what they want.”

“I can’t argue with you there.” Still, he felt tempted to toss a coin into the water for a wish of his own—that for once, she’d let him make things easier for her. “But there’s such a thing as working too hard, you know.”

“Ben, please.” She gathered up her dress and stood. “You called the truce yourself, remember? I know you only want to help. For Paul. And because we’re friends.” Her voice shook from her stress on the word. “We’ve had this conversation before. Now, once and for all, I’m doing fine.” As if to prove her point, she smiled. “And I have to go inside. Tess will be tossing her bouquet soon. I wouldn’t want to lose out on that.”

A tear sparkled at the corner of her eye.

Missing the chance to catch a handful of flowers couldn’t upset her that much. He knew what she really missed—having a husband by her side. Her husband.

His best friend.

But neither of them would have Paul back in their lives.

Before he could get to his feet, she left, running away like that princess in the fairy tale his niece asked him to read to her over and over again.

No, not a princess. The one who took off without her glass slipper—Cinderella.

Dana was no Cinderella. She hadn’t left a shoe behind. Hadn’t even dropped a button from that pink dress as something for him to remember her by. As if he could ever forget her.

She’d been the heroine of a story he’d once created long ago, a story he’d had to write in his head because he hadn’t yet known how to spell all the words.

How did it go? Like in his niece’s storybook...

Once upon a time, that was it.

Once upon a time, in the Land of Enchantment—otherwise known as the state of New Mexico—Benjamin Franklin Sawyer had high hopes and a huge crush on the girl who sat one desk over from him in their classroom every day.

No other girl in town, Ben felt sure, could beat Dana Smith, and most likely no other woman in the world could compare to her, either. In any case, without a doubt, she was the cutest of all his female friends in their kindergarten classroom.

Unfortunately, when the teacher moved his best friend, Paul Wright, to the desk on the other side of Dana’s, Ben saw his hopes dashed.

The crush, however, continued. For a good long while.

As for Benjamin Franklin Sawyer’s hopes...

Well, not every story had a happy ending.

Not even Dana’s.

Since Paul’s death, they had seen less and less of each other. By her choice, not his.

She needed time, he had told himself. Needed space. So he’d waited. He’d talked himself down. He’d exercised every horse in his stable enough to cover every inch of the land he owned. When none of that worked, he’d bought the danged office building. And even that hadn’t brought him peace.

Seeing her now had.

He never could stand to watch her cry, but tonight, he welcomed those tears in her eyes and the way she’d hurried away from him. Doing fine, she’d said. Like hell. Her actions revealed more than she would willingly tell him. More than she’d ever want him to know.

She needed his help, though she refused to accept it.

The help he had promised Paul he would give her.

No matter how firmly she dug her heels in and how often she turned him down, he was damned well going to keep that promise.

* * *

AFTER ONE LAST BREATH of fresh air to calm herself, Dana slipped back into the banquet hall and sought safety at one of the tables.

“Hey, Dana, over here!”

Even above the music, she heard the familiar voice and fought to hide her cringe of dismay.

No safety for her tonight, anywhere.

Forcing a smile, she hurried toward the table halfway around the dance floor. Anything to keep from standing near the door. If Ben found her there, he would assume she had waited for him.

For the past year and more, she had done just the opposite—tried her best to keep out of his way. A ridiculous goal in a town the size of Flagman’s Folly, where you couldn’t step out your front door without meeting someone you knew.

Then he’d bought the building that housed her office, and she’d had to work twice as hard to avoid him. Ten times as hard to ignore her feelings. Because it wasn’t only anger and irritation that made her insist she was fine. And that had sent her running from him now.

Reaching the table, she smiled down at Tess’s aunt Ellamae. “Everything okay?” she asked. “Did you need something?”

“Everything’s fine,” the older woman said.

Fine. That word again. She resisted the urge to steal a backward glance at the French doors. To look for Ben.

They’d been friends forever, yet she couldn’t risk being near him anymore. Talking with him meant she had to raise her guard. Trying to make him understand how she felt made her frustrated, in more ways than she wanted to think about. Every time they spoke to each other, she left more shaken than before.

Even tonight, when she fled outside for a few minutes alone, she’d found no escape from him. Worse, sitting beside him in the moonlight, she’d had trouble catching her breath. And that had nothing to do with the formfitting bodice of her gown.

“We were wondering what you’d gotten up to,” Ellamae said.

She jumped. “Up to? Nothing. I’m the matron of honor, that’s all. It’s a busy job.”

“Yeah. So, it’s funny you found time to run off like that.”

Ellamae’s weatherworn face and gruff tone made most kids in town antsy around her. Her job as court clerk only increased their anxiety. But like a prickly pear cactus, her rough exterior covered the softness beneath.

Years of spending time around Tess’s family had taught Dana that. She could handle Ellamae. “I just went out for a quick breath of fresh air.”

“Not so quick, was it?”

She blinked. On the other hand, the woman’s tendency to see all and want to know all made her a bit antsy, too.

Especially when she had so much to hide.

The man on Ellamae’s other side broke in. “Glad you’re back, anyhow,” Judge Baylor said. “Wouldn’t want to miss Tess throwing out her bouquet.”

“Oh, I think I’ll pass.”

The judge’s bright blue eyes met hers. “Well, now. Can’t have you doing that, can we? It’s tradition.”

As Ellamae nodded vigorously, the bandleader made the announcement. At the tables around them, women jumped up from their seats.

Knowing enough not to protest, Dana swallowed a sigh. Everyone had respected her year and more of mourning, but with the folks of Flagman’s Folly, tradition was practically the law. And between them, Ellamae and the judge were the law in town.

“Time you got back into the swing of things,” Ellamae said.

Trust her to speak her mind. She now shooed Dana into the crowd with as much enthusiasm as little Becky Robertson shooed her chickens into their new coop.

Giving up, Dana joined the women surging toward the dance floor. Laughter broke out from behind her, and she looked back.

Ellamae stood waving a well-used baseball catcher’s mitt. She hurried to Dana’s side. “C’mon, girl, let’s move it. I got done out of catching the bouquet at Sam Robertson’s wedding, but I’m not missing a chance at this one.”

Almost the same words Dana had used to escape from Ben. Time to make good on her excuse. Refusing to look for him, she took her spot with the women. From the middle of the crowd, Lissa and Nate turned, grinning, to wave at her. She waved back.

Ellamae nudged her, making elbow room.

Dana laughed and edged a few steps away. Though she stayed on the fringes, she held her hands up as everyone else did and matched their wide smiles.

The bride listened to her guests, all telling her how and when and where to toss her bouquet. Dana knew each woman in the group hoped to become the lucky winner—especially Ellamae, who stood waving her mitt-clad hand above her head.

Good luck to her. And to anyone else on that dance floor.

As long as she stayed behind all the other women, the bouquet shouldn’t come anywhere near her. Just the idea that she might win the toss made her heart thud painfully.

Unable to stop herself, she glanced across the room. Ben stood near the French doors, gazing at her, and she hurriedly turned away. Knowing he watched only made things worse.

The sigh she swallowed bordered on a sob. Of all the folks in town who worried her, good old Ben topped the list. Not only because he kept offering to help her.

But because he would be the person most hurt by the secrets she kept.

“Everybody set?” Tess called.

The crowd murmured in anticipation, and Dana forced herself to focus. If she didn’t, it would be just her luck not to realize the bouquet had come right at her until too late—after her reflexes had kicked in and she had caught it.

Tess swung her arm as if winding up for a baseball pitch, then let the flower arrangement fly. It skimmed the fingertips of one woman after another, bouncing its way across the crowd.

To the amusement of everyone in the hall, Ellamae made a valiant effort to snag the bouquet in midair. The cumbersome baseball mitt let her down. The flowers slipped from her grasp, tumbled in Dana’s direction, bounced off her shoulder, and landed in the arms of five-year-old Becky Robertson, who squealed. Jaw dropped and eyes wide, she looked up at Dana.

Sam’s little girl was deaf. Glad his wife had taught folks some sign language, Dana fluttered her hands in the air, using the gesture for applause. Hearing Becky’s high-pitched laugh made her smile. Dana held her right hand palm turned inward a couple of inches from her own face. Tilting her hand, she pulled all her fingertips together. “Pretty.”

Clutching the bouquet, Becky nodded energetically, then ran toward her daddy, who waited at the edge of the dance floor.

“There goes one happy young’un,” Ellamae said, shaking her head. “Well, after seeing that smile, guess I can’t begrudge the girl. Better luck next time for the rest of us.”

Not for me, Dana thought with relief as the other women drifted away and Ellamae stomped off in a pretend sulk. Her good fortune had come from not getting stuck with that bouquet.

Then she made the mistake of looking at Ben. No smiles there. No luck for her, either. He had started across the room toward her.

Chapter Two

Had Ben read her thoughts in her face from all the way across the room? Had everyone in the entire banquet hall noticed her relief at not catching the bouquet?

Casually, she hoped, Dana glanced away from Ben at the tables clustered around the dance floor. No one seemed to pay any special attention to her—except the bride, who marched up, shaking her head. “What in the world do you call that attempt? You didn’t even try to catch it.”

“I most certainly did. Ellamae made me nervous.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” Tess frowned. “Are you having a good time?”

“Of course.”

“I wonder. I wish we could have matched you up with a more eligible partner.”

“Don’t be silly. Sam and I are perfectly happy to act as a couple for the day.”

Tess laughed. “You know, Caleb planned to ask him to stand up for him anyhow, but Sam beat him to it. He insisted Caleb choose him. Since he’d just gotten married, Sam claimed he would be the best best man Caleb could ever find.”

No, he wouldn’t. Dana had to bite her tongue to keep the words from spilling out. Of all the males in the room, Ben Sawyer would make the best man. He’d proven that ever since her own wedding. And in all the years before it.

He’d always been there for her, had always played such a big role in her life. Right now, though, she felt sure he planned to steal the show. Or at least, to make a scene. One she didn’t want Tess to witness.

“Speaking of Caleb,” she said quickly, “he’s trying to get your attention.” She gestured toward Tess’s new husband, who had pulled a chair into the middle of the dance floor.

Tess gave an exaggerated groan. “Oh, no. It’s garter time.” She murmured, “Tradition is all well and good, but we have to draw the line somewhere. I’ve got the garter around my ankle.” She grinned. “I hope he’s not too disappointed.”

Dana forced a laugh. “You have no worries there.” The band played a few bouncy chords. Copying Ellamae, she made shooing motions toward Tess. “Go on. Everyone’s waiting.”

Single males, including Ben, flowed onto the dance floor. But as Tess returned to the front of the hall, he broke from the group and veered toward Dana.

“Did Tess tell you what she thought about your pathetic try at that bouquet?” he asked.

She exhaled in exasperation. They certainly had an audience now. She caught several people watching them, including Judge Baylor, who had taken pride of place in the center of the floor.

If she had to, she would smile until her cheeks hurt. But she wouldn’t take a lecture from Ben. “Yes, Tess gave me her feedback. So I won’t need any from you. Thanks, anyway.”

“But I had my entire speech planned.”

She laughed. “Save it for someone else. And for your information, as I told Tess, Ellamae made me back off.”

His brows rose. “That’s a switch.” He smiled as if to soften his words. “I thought you could handle anyone who got in your way.”

“Anyone but you, Ben,” she muttered after he’d left to rejoin the other men.

At the front of the room, teasing his blushing bride, the groom tugged at the hem of her gown. As the other wedding guests cheered him on, Dana’s mind wandered—directly to the dark-haired man whose shoulders strained the fabric of his well-cut tuxedo.

After Paul’s death, Ben had offered to do anything he could to make things easier for her. His attention smothered her. His kindhearted attempts to help threatened to do even more. To make her needy and dependent and weak.

She couldn’t let that happen. Not after all the years she’d heard those words from another man—the one she had mistakenly married. Paul had forced those words on her, had done his best to convince her they truly described her. She couldn’t fall for that again, either.

And so, it had been easiest—best—to turn away from Ben. To stay away from him, when she wanted to do just the opposite. When everything in her longed for—

Laughter rippled around her. She sagged in relief, genuinely glad for the interruption that kept her from going down that mental road. She couldn’t go anywhere with Ben. Shouldn’t even think about him.

Outside, alone with him in the moonlight, sitting beside him on that bench, she’d wanted just to close her eyes and lean against him and see what would happen next. But she couldn’t. Too many responsibilities and too many bad memories would keep her from ever relying on any man again.

Especially Ben.

As if she had called his name, he turned. Her breath caught. It wasn’t until he approached her that she realized the garter toss had ended.

The music changed from the bouncy rhythm to a slower beat.

“May I have this dance?” he asked. He stood so tall, she had to look up to see his dark eyes staring down at her.

At the thought of stepping into his arms, her heart lurched. A dangerous road... A risky decision...

Somehow, she had escaped having to dance with him at Sam and Kayla’s wedding the year before. She had managed to avoid that tonight, too. Until now. But they had an audience all around—all the folks from Flagman’s Folly—scrutinizing their every move.

She blurted the only thing that came to mind. “Why not? We’re friends, aren’t we?”

His expression solemn, he nodded and held out his hand.

She couldn’t have refused his invitation. Couldn’t have turned him down. And he knew it. Of course, the matron of honor would dance with the ushers, too.

Why was she trying to kid herself? She wouldn’t have turned Ben away at all.

But she should have.

He took her hand and settled his free arm around her waist, holding her in a light but steady embrace. As he led her expertly around the crowded floor, she tried desperately to focus on her movements. One trip over her own feet, and she’d make a fool of herself. One slip on this dance floor, and she’d wind up even closer to him than she stood now.

If that were possible.

She was nearly nestled against him. Her head swam, and she strained to keep her focus on the lapel of his dark tuxedo. She would not look up at him. She would not meet his eyes. She was too afraid of what he would read in hers.

There were other senses besides sight, though.

His warmth enveloped her, relaxing her even as it made her heart beat triple-time.

Loving the scent of his spicy aftershave, she inhaled deeply...and caught herself just as her eyelids began to close. Wouldn’t that have made a pretty picture for all the wedding guests to see!

She shifted slightly in his arms. Her hand brushed the edge of his collar, her fingertip catching the faint sandpaper prickle of five-o’clock shadow on his neck. A shiver ran through her.

“You okay?” he murmured, tilting his head down.

“Fine,” she whispered. So many uses for that one little word. So many lies.

He moved his arm from around her waist and rested his hand flat against her back. His thumb grazed the skin left exposed by her gown. For a moment, she felt sure he’d done it deliberately.

Silly wishful thinking. Yet she had to swallow hard against the small, strangled sound that had risen to the back of her throat. She should have turned him down.

No matter how much she longed for him to hold her.

The musicians brought the song to an end. With a sigh of relief, she dropped her arms and stepped back. Instantly, she missed his warmth.

“Thank you for the dance,” he said.

Reluctantly she looked up, more unwilling than ever to meet his eyes. Instead, she focused on his mouth. On any other man she might have taken the curve of those lips as a complacent smile. Or even a self-satisfied smirk.

Not on Ben.

“Thank you, too,” she murmured. She saw Tess approaching and turned to her.

“Dana, didn’t you say P.J. and Stacey are staying with Anne all night?”

“Yes.” The casual question helped clear her head. She had made special arrangements with her babysitter. “Anne’s keeping them at her house, since I knew Lissa and I would get home so late.”

“Good. But Lissa’s now staying at the Whistlestop with Nate.”

Dana frowned. Tess’s mother had turned their family home into a bed-and-breakfast inn a couple of years earlier. Lissa spent the night at the Whistlestop Inn as often as Nate stayed at their house. But... “Roselynn doesn’t need an extra—”

“No buts, please. I checked with Mom first.” Tess leaned toward them and continued in a lower voice, “Nate’s having a hard time adjusting to us going away. I invited Lissa.”

“In that case, then, of course.”

“Great.” Tess turned to Ben. “We’ve had to do some rearranging and the limo’s now overflowing. You won’t mind taking Dana back to town, will you?”

“Of course not.”

“But—” Dana started.

“Gotta run,” Tess interrupted. Again. “Caleb’s waiting.” She turned away, her gown swirling behind her.

“I can find another ride—”

“No need,” Ben said.

He closed his fingers around her elbow as if she planned to hurry after Tess. She did. “Duty calls,” she said, tugging her arm free. “After all, I’m Tess’s matron of honor tonight.”

“No problem,” he said easily. “I’ll be waiting for you when it’s time to go.”

A few quick steps, and she’d left him behind. If only she could have left her own treacherous thoughts on the dance floor, too. On the long ride to Flagman’s Folly in the quiet darkness of his truck, she’d better put those thoughts out of her mind. Or even safer, put herself to sleep. Then she wouldn’t be tempted to think...to say...to do...anything she’d regret.

Silly to worry about that. What harm could come from a simple ride home with him?

Good old, dependable Ben. She could count on him to be there for her. To be her friend, always. To never do anything inappropriate.

It was enough to break her heart.

* * *

A RED GLEAM FROM THE ROAD up ahead caught Ben’s eye. The headlamps of his pickup truck reflected off the taillights of a vehicle pulled to one side of the road.

“Ben,” Dana said, her voice tight with concern.

“Nothing to worry about.” Even if he hadn’t seen the car days ago, he’d have realized that. The coating of yellow dust from bumper to bumper and the dingy handkerchief hanging from the antenna told him it had sat there for a while. “I noticed it when I came this way last week.”

No need to check for anyone stranded inside the vehicle. Still, habits died hard. He slowed for a look as he drove past. Around here, with towns few and far apart and where the sun parched everything it touched, folks kept an eye out for others.

Just as he watched over Dana.

“I’m surprised you didn’t notice it before tonight,” he added. “You’re on the road often enough.”

“Not lately.” She sounded irritated.

“In fact, that could’ve easily been your van broken down back there. And what would you have done by yourself?”

“Called for a tow truck, of course. Besides, when I leave town, I’m usually not alone. I have clients with me.”

She shifted in the passenger seat.

She hadn’t said much so far on their way home. He’d even caught her with her eyes closed a few times. No surprise, considering the clock read ten past midnight.

Cinderella hadn’t made it home on time.

Between her last-minute duties at the banquet hall and the long ride back to town, they’d only come to the outskirts of Flagman’s Folly now.

“Sleep well?” he asked, smiling.

“Just resting my eyes.”

In the dim light from the dashboard, he could see the line of her cheekbones. Again, he noted the weight she’d lost. Still, she looked beautiful. But tired. “With all the kids away, maybe you can get some extra rest in the morning.”

“Not a chance. I’m picking up P.J. and Stacey at seven.”

“So early?”

She laughed softly. “I wouldn’t inflict P.J. on Anne and her mother any longer than that.”

It had been a while since he’d seen the kids. Once, he’d had the run of Paul’s house. He swallowed the bitter thought and kept his eyes on the road. “He’s still a chatterbox, huh?”

“Always been a chatterbox,” she corrected.

“He takes after his mama.”

“He does not.”

His laugh sounded much more loud than hers had. “Now, don’t try pulling that one on me. I grew up with you, remember?”

“How could I forget?”

She didn’t sound happy about it. “Was it that bad?”

“Don’t be silly.” She sighed. “I didn’t mean that. I was just thinking in general about growing up here.”

“The best place in the world,” he said.

“Mmm.”

“What? You don’t agree?”

“Of course, I do. It’s just...you know how people are here. They don’t forget a thing, either.”

“Works for me. It’s nice to have folks around who know all about you.” Nice, except for their long list of expectations. He stayed quiet for a while, listening to the tires whip the road. “Well,” he said, finally, “I’d hate to live in a town where nobody knew his neighbor. Wouldn’t you?”

She didn’t answer. He smiled. She’d gone back to resting her eyes again. Her lashes left shadows on her cheeks. Her lips had softened. He wanted a taste. When he’d held her in his arms tonight, he’d had to fight like hell to keep from pulling her closer and kissing her.

Before they’d left the banquet hall, he’d thought about polishing off a whole bottle of champagne. He hadn’t had but two glasses, hours before. Maybe some extra would have given him justification for what he wanted to do now. To step outside everyone’s expectations. Especially hers.

He’d rejected the idea of more champagne, though. He’d never been much of a drinking man, and he wouldn’t use liquor as an excuse for his behavior.

Besides, he didn’t need alcohol to explain why he felt the way he did about Dana.

Glancing across the space between them again, he noted the way the pink lace of her dress lay across her shoulders. Then he forced his gaze to the road, where it belonged.

He had no right to look at her as she slept, unaware and vulnerable. No right to look at her at all. He was obligated to watch over her, to take care of her, as he’d promised his best friend he would do.

She’d made that damned hard for him.

He thought back to the day Paul had stopped by the ranch house on his last leave. The day Paul had asked him to watch over his family. Stunned by the request, Ben still had his wits about him enough to agree in an instant.

Paul and Dana and their kids were as close as family to him. He loved Lissa and P.J.—Paul Junior—as much as he loved his niece. He felt the same now about Stacey. Of course he would watch over them. All of them.

He had to keep that promise. Had to make sure he stayed close to Dana and the kids.

Staring at her with lust in his eyes probably wasn’t the best way to get her to go along with that.

She woke up again just as they reached Signal Street, the town’s main thoroughfare. He managed to smile at her briefly without making eye contact.

A few minutes later, after he’d turned onto her street and pulled into her driveway, he found himself grasping the steering wheel, as if his tight grip could rein him in, too. “Here we are,” he said inanely, his voice croaking.

When he rounded the truck and opened the passenger door, she gathered her dress in both hands. Balanced on the edge of her seat, she hesitated.

The light from the streetlamp a few feet away turned her face pale as whipped cream and her hair buttery gold. Her eyes sparkled. He stood, one hand palm up, heart thumping out of rhythm, the way he’d waited after he had invited her to dance.

Finally, she reached out to him. Though he’d had the heater on low for the ride home, her fingers felt cool. Automatically, he sandwiched her hand between his. “You should have said something,” he reproached her. “I’d have cranked up the heat.”

“It’s okay.” She slipped free and walked toward the house.

For a long moment, he watched the pink-skirted sway of her hips. Then he came to his senses. As she unlocked the front door, he caught up to stand beside her.

“Coffee?” she murmured.

Not such a good idea. He forced a laugh. “You’re not awake enough to make coffee.”

“Of course I am,” she shot back.

He’d said just the wrong thing. Or had he? Had his subconscious picked just the right words to guarantee she would argue the point?

She frowned and pushed the door open. “It will take more than the ride home to settle me down after all the excitement today. And it’s the least I can offer to say thank you.”

You could offer me something else.

Fingers now curled tight around a nonexistent steering wheel, he followed her into the house and the living room he’d once known so well.

“Have a seat,” she said. “I’ll be back soon.”

Obediently, he dropped onto her couch and sat back as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

Yeah. Sure. At least he’d gotten the obedient part right. No one in town would have cause to argue with him about that. Not even Dana.

He knew what folks thought of him—he’d lived with the knowledge his entire life. Good old Ben Sawyer. Well-behaved, safe, trustworthy Ben. Ben, the boy-next-door. All compliments, all good qualities to have.

The trouble was, not one of them appealed to him now.

The moment Dana went through the doorway into the kitchen, he sat up. He needed to pull himself together. To get control.

Not much chance of that, all things considered. Since grade school, he’d struggled to get a handle on the crush he had on her. Struggled—and failed. Years ago, that calf-love had turned into a powerful longing. And tonight, holding her in his arms had shot all his good intentions to pieces.

No matter how long or how hard he fought, he would never win.

Because no matter how wrong it made him, he wanted his best friend’s wife.

Chapter Three

Leaving Ben as quickly as her pink high heels could carry her, Dana escaped to the kitchen, seeking safety in her favorite room in the house. But once there, she felt the walls closing in. As a tenant, she couldn’t make permanent changes, but she’d decorated with blue-and-white towels and curtains to match her dishes. The normally soothing colors did nothing for her now.

Throughout the room, she’d hung so many houseplants Lissa often said they ate their meals in a garden. A jungle, five-year-old P.J. insisted every time.

An appropriate description at the moment, as she roamed the room like a tiger on the prowl, too tense to sit while the coffee brewed. Too aware of Ben just a few yards away.

After the dance, the ride home in the car and the sight of him sitting comfortably on her couch, nothing could calm her. And she had to go back into the living room and make polite conversation with him—at this hour! Why hadn’t she said goodbye at the door instead of inviting him in?

Not wanting to admit the answer to that, she gathered mugs and napkins and turned the teakettle on.

Ben would only want coffee, though. She knew that about him and a lot more. His coffee preference: black, no sugar. His favorite food: tacos. Favorite cookie: chocolate chip. Favorite ice cream: butter pecan. What she didn’t know about Ben Sawyer wouldn’t fill the coffee mug she’d set on the counter.

What he didn’t know about her...

She stared at the teakettle, which took its sweet time coming to a boil. Maybe better for her if it never did. Then she wouldn’t have to go into the other room and face the danger of getting too close to him and the disappointment of knowing all the things she wished for could never come true.

This reprieve in the kitchen couldn’t last much longer. Unfortunately. She had to stop obsessing about Ben.

She had to think of her kids. And her husband.

The reminder froze her in place.

Not all that long ago, her marriage had become about as solid as the steam building up in the teakettle. She and Paul had both known it, but before the issues between them could boil over, he announced he had enlisted. No warning. No compromise. No discussion. She’d barely had time to adjust to the news when he’d left for boot camp.

She had tried to see his decision as a positive change, a chance for him to come home a different man. For them to work things out. She owed her kids that. But the changes didn’t happen for the better. His letters slowed to a trickle and then stopped arriving altogether.

When he came home on leave, the brief reunion was more uncomfortable than happy. Their final time together, she’d made one last attempt to save their relationship—an attempt that had failed. By the end of his leave, they’d agreed to a divorce. And to keep that between them until he returned after his discharge.

Only, he hadn’t returned at all.

She’d been left with kids she loved more than life, a load of debt she might never crawl out from under, and renewed determination to hold on to the truth. A truth she had sworn no one—especially Ben Sawyer—would ever learn. A determination that Ben, so full of kindness and concern, undermined with almost his every breath.

Beside her, the teakettle screeched and spewed steam.

Like a dragon, P.J. always said.

She looked at it and shook her head. Dragon or no, the kettle didn’t scare her. Neither would Ben.

As long as she didn’t get too close to either of them.

With an exasperated sigh, she moved across to the coffeemaker and poured a full, steaming mug. She was stalling, delaying the moment she’d have to face him again, whether he scared her or not. Quickly she poured her tea. Then she stiffened her spine and stalked toward the doorway to the living room. There, she faltered and stood looking into the room.

Tall and broad and long limbed, he seemed to take up much more than his share of the couch. He had left his jacket in the truck. While she had gone to the kitchen, he’d undone his tie and the top few buttons on his shirt. The sight of that bothered her somehow. Maybe because he hadn’t hesitated to unwind, yet she remained strung tight.

He turned his head her way. His dark eyes shone in the lamplight. A smile suddenly curved his lips.

“I made myself comfortable,” he said.

“So I see.” Obviously he felt right at home, while she felt...things she definitely shouldn’t allow herself to feel.

“You haven’t changed much.”

Startled, she stared at him. Then she saw he hadn’t meant her at all. His gaze roamed the room, scrutinizing the well-worn plaid fabric on the couch and chairs, the long scratch on the coffee table where P.J. had ridden his first tricycle into it. Ben had been there that Christmas afternoon. He had bought that tricycle. Was he thinking about that now, too?

Nothing in the house had changed since he’d last visited. But she had. “No, not much different in here,” she answered with care, as if he would pick up on the distinction.

With equal care, she handed him his coffee. For a moment his fingers covered hers. She nearly lost her grip. The hot, dark liquid sloshed dangerously close to the point of no return. When he took the mug, pulling his fingers away, she gave a sigh of relief mixed with regret.

Still, she hesitated.

She glanced across the room at her rocking chair, so nice and far from the couch. But with such sharp edges on the rockers, ready to pierce the lace of her dress. She’d lost even that small chance of escape.

One of P.J.’s dinosaurs sat wedged between the couch cushions. She plucked it free and dropped it on the coffee table. Then, cradling her tea mug, she took a seat.

“Your hands still need warming?” he asked.

Again she stared. If she said yes, would he take her hand between his again, the way he had when she’d climbed from his truck? Her palms tingled at the thought. But of course he hadn’t meant that as an offer. How desperate must she be, wanting his attention so badly she found it where none existed? At least, that kind of attention?

She shook her head to clear it as much as to answer his question.

From under her lashes she watched him set the mug down on his thigh, holding it in a secure grip, as if he didn’t want to risk spilling coffee on her old couch. Or on his tuxedo pants.

He had large hands with long, strong fingers, firm to the touch from all the hours—all the years—he’d spent working with them. No town boy, Ben Sawyer. He’d always lived on his family’s large ranch on the outskirts of Flagman’s Folly.

Working with real estate, she knew to the acre how much land Ben Sawyer owned. Not as much as Caleb Cantrell now did, but a good deal more than most of the ranchers around here. She knew to the penny the worth of Ben’s land, too.

Not as much as his worth as a man. Or as a friend.

She took a sip of her tea, understanding she was stalling again. She could list Ben’s good points forever, but now she used them to keep her mind occupied so her mouth couldn’t get her into trouble.

“How’s the ranch?” she asked finally. A safe subject.

“Still there, which says something in this economy. You haven’t come out since we raised the new barn.”

So much for safe. “Work has kept me busy.”

“I’m sure. Well, I’ll need to have another potluck one of these days, before the weather turns.”

Again she wondered if his words held a hidden meaning. No. Not Ben. But she couldn’t be quite as open with him. Since Paul’s death, she’d made it a point of visiting Ben’s ranch with the kids only when he had a potluck. When there would be plenty of folks there. And even then she felt uneasy. Unable to trust her judgment around him.

Just as she felt now.

“We’ve got a couple of new ponies the right size for Lissa and P.J.”

Her laugh sounded strangled. “Please don’t tell them, or I’ll never get Lissa to stay home and focus on her homework.”

“Is she struggling with it?”

“Some. Mostly math. I try to help her, but a lot of it’s over my head. It’s gotten tougher since we were in school.”

“A lot of things have.” He sounded bitter. He smiled as if to offset the tone. “I can stop by and give her a hand.”

Oh, no. She had to nip that bad idea before it could blossom into another problem. “Thanks, but she started going for tutoring. With Nate. I think they’re catching on.”

“Good.” But he sounded disappointed.

Refusing to look at his face, she stared down at her tea. She couldn’t risk having him come around here, getting close to the kids again. Sending her emotions into overdrive every time she saw him.

“Well.” He gestured to the coffee mug. “What happened to my cookies?”

She looked up at him in stunned surprise. That was no casual question, was it? That was a direct quote of his own words, something he’d once said to her time and time again, beginning with the first week of her eighth-grade cooking class.

He sipped from the mug.

His averted gaze gave him away, proving he’d asked that last question deliberately. He’d meant to remind her.

Hadn’t he?

Yet, truthfully, everything he said and did, everything he was, only made her recall their long history.

Everything she thought and felt only made things worse.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m all out of cookies.”

“That’s no way to say thanks for a ride home, is it?”

“If I’m remembering correctly—” she paused, cleared her throat “—I offered coffee, not dessert.”

“A man can dream, can’t he?” Now, over the rim of his mug, his eyes met hers.

Her heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t be flirting with her. Not Ben. He couldn’t want more.

Even though she did.

“Sure,” she said finally. “Dream on.” She looked down at her mug and blew lightly on the inch of lukewarm tea that remained, pretending to cool it. Needing to cool herself down. Needing to get him out of here—before she gave in to her own imaginings and made a fool of herself. Her cheeks burning, she added, “Speaking of dreams, I...I guess it’s time for me to turn in. And for you to go. Before it gets too late.”

“It already is.”

She stared at him.

He shrugged. “It’s nearly one o’clock, and I’m usually up by four. It doesn’t seem worth it even to go to sleep, does it?”

“Not for you, maybe. But I intend to get a few hours in before I pick up the kids.”

He nodded. “I’d better go, then.”

Relief flowed through her. Two minutes more, and she’d be safe. She set her mug on the coffee table and rose from the couch. She had turned away, eager to lead him to the door, when he rested his hand on her arm. She froze.

“Before I go,” he murmured, “you might need some help.”

“I don’t think so. I can manage a couple of mugs.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He tapped her shoulder lightly. “Did you plan on sleeping in this dress?”

“No,” she said, hating the fact that her voice sounded so breathless. That she felt so breathless. She must have imagined his fingertip just grazing her skin. “I thought Lissa would be here.”

“She’s not.”

“I know.”

She swallowed hard. Why had she ever wanted to make a dress she couldn’t get out of herself? Why did she not regret the decision now? She could have saved herself some heartache.

She turned to him, and their eyes met. Unable to read his—unwilling to let him see what she knew he’d find in hers—she spun away again. “Well, you can unbutton the top two buttons. That ought to get me started.”

Behind her, he laughed softly. He touched the low-cut edge of the back of her gown. Her breath caught. As he undid the top button, his knuckles brushed the newly exposed skin. She clutched her lace overskirt with both hands and hoped he had touched her deliberately.

He undid the second button, his fingers following the same path along her spine. Warmth prickled her skin.

When he reached for the next button and the next, she closed her eyes, wishing he’d meant to set off the heat building inside her.

After he’d undone the back of her gown, she turned, already planning the quick farewell that would send him on his way. With one look at him, her words disappeared before they reached her lips. Now she could read his eyes clearly. Could read naked longing in his face.

A longing she recognized too well.

In those endless months when she’d known in her heart her marriage to Paul was over, she had begun to yearn again for all the things she had always wanted in her life. All the things she had hoped Paul would be but never had been.

A solid, steady, dependable partner.

A husband she could truly love.

A daddy who would willingly raise her children.

A man...

A man just like Ben.

“Think I’ve gone far enough?” His voice rumbled through her. No sign of laughter now. His chest rose and fell with his deep breath. He looked into her eyes, then let his gaze drift down to her mouth.

She had spent the entire evening wanting him to kiss her—and she couldn’t wait for him to kiss her now.

Slowly he reached up and rested his warm hand flat against the back of her neck. She tilted her chin up, let him cradle her head in his palm, allowed her eyelids to drift closed.

His breath fanned her cheek.

The brush of his lips against hers came with the lightest of pressure. Not tentative, but restrained, as if he touched her in awe and disbelief. That sense of reverence made her eyes sting. Made her heart swell.

He cupped her face, his fingers curving beneath her jaw, fingertips settling against her neck. He couldn’t miss her rapid pulse.

His head close to hers, he murmured, “You know, I’ve had a crush on you since kindergarten.”

“No.”

“Yes. Although I admit,” he added, his voice hoarse, “I didn’t think about this until a few years later.” He slid his hand from her neck and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

When she opened her eyes, she found his face mere inches away. “You’re only looking for cookies,” she teased.

“Oh, no. Not when I’ve just had something much better.” His mouth met hers again. “You taste like wedding cake.”

She smiled. “You taste like champagne.”

“Only the best for you, darlin’. Always.”

Always. The way he’d been there for her.

Yet through all the years she had known him, she’d never imagined they would ever kiss. During the recent months when she’d begun to dream about him, she’d never dared to let those dreams bring her this far.

She had to clear her throat before she could speak again. Still, her voice cracked. “Are you trying to sweet-talk me, cowboy?”

“Sweet? No, ma’am.” He shook his head. “I’m thinking more like hot.” He slid his hand into the unbuttoned back of her gown, pressing his fingers wide and firm against her. The soft material slipped from her shoulders.

Not breaking eye contact with her, he trailed both hands down her arms. Like the water bubbling in the country club’s fountain, the gown fell in a froth of pink satin and lace.

When he took her hand and sank onto the couch, she went with him, wanting to get even closer, to brace herself against his solidness, to absorb his warmth. Wanting to hold on to a reality she wasn’t yet sure she believed.

A few minutes later, though, she believed in him with all her heart. Despite his words, he was gentle and kind and sweet. And yes...later...he was hot, too.

He gave her everything she’d ever dreamed of. And more.

An even longer while later, she reached up to slide her hands behind his neck and link her fingers against him. As she held on, unmoving, he explored once again, running his hands down her sides, cupping her hips and holding her closer.

When she sucked in a deep breath, one side of his mouth curled in a smile. “This isn’t what I expected when I drove you home tonight.”

“That makes two of us.” Like a schoolgirl, she struggled to hold back a giggle of pure joy at being two halves of a couple with him.

“And,” he said, “this isn’t what I expected when I promised to take care of you. But you don’t hear me complaining.”

Her throat tightened, and the giggle died. “No,” she said, “I don’t.” Goose bumps rippled along her skin.

To accompany the chill running down her spine.

“In fact—”

“Wait,” she interrupted, meeting his eyes. “You said ‘take care’?”

He nodded. “Of you and the kids.”

She tried to keep her tone even, her voice soft. “And you made that promise to...?”

He shifted, as if the question she’d left hanging caused him considerable discomfort. A small gap opened between them, and her body cooled.

“To Paul,” he said.

“I see.” She sat up, needing more distance between them. When he let her go, she grabbed her gown from the floor and slid into it, heedless now of the fine lace, of the delicate satin. “That’s the reason behind everything?” she asked. “Because you made a promise to Paul?”

He leaned against the arm of the couch. “What ‘everything’? You mean us, here?”

“We’ve never been ‘us, here’ before tonight.” She wouldn’t—couldn’t—think about that now. It took twice as much effort to keep her voice level as it had to stifle that foolish giggle. “No, I mean everything you’ve done. Trying to help me. Stopping by my office unannounced. Buying the office building. All that—because of what you promised Paul?”

Frowning, he nodded. “Yeah. But I’d have done those things anyway. Why wouldn’t I? I told you, you’ve been the girl for me since kindergarten.”

“How long ago did you have to make that promise?”

“The day he shipped out at the end of his leave. But there was no ‘have to’ about it. I willingly gave him my word.”

“I’m not willing to let you take care of me.”

“It’s too late for that.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“I’ve watched over you for years. Ever since we were kids in school.”

“Then it has to stop. We’re not kids anymore. And as I’ve told you before, many times, I can take care of myself—and my children. I don’t think you’ll ever understand that.” She tugged the bodice of her gown into place. “And I think it’s time for you to go.”

For a few long moments he didn’t move. Then, slowly, he curled his fingers into fists and stared at her, his eyes narrowed.

She had no fear. This was Ben. He was good and kind and meant well. And because he was so good and kind, because he felt so determined to take care of her, she’d hurt him.

After he’d just made love to her as if—

She couldn’t finish that thought. She couldn’t sit here and watch him walk out.

Instead, she rose from the couch, then crossed the room. “Good night,” she said over her shoulder. Her voice shook.

“Running away won’t help anything,” he said.

“I’m not running,” she answered, climbing the stairs without looking back. Without stopping. “I’m just standing on my own.”

On legs no steadier than her voice had been and that threatened to give way at any moment.

From the upstairs hallway she listened to his movements below.

When he left, she went down again to lock the door.

Then she sank onto the rocking chair. Her heart thudded painfully. She had wanted to stop him. Wanted to call him back. But she couldn’t. She had to make him leave, had to force him to understand she didn’t need him.

She had to force herself to accept a painful truth, too. For all this time, Ben had considered her his responsibility.

She couldn’t allow that to continue.

No matter what she had heard for years from another man, no matter what that man had tried to make her believe, she wasn’t anyone’s burden. Never had been—and as long as she lived, never would be.

Especially not Ben’s.

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