Her sister shrugged. “Maybe I don’t believe you.”

“Why?” Rachel had to smile as she lifted her arms. “Don’t I look fabulous?”

“No.” Mel didn’t smile to soften the blunt word. “You look miserable. Like you’re hurting, and I don’t mean physically.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Rachel stared down into her tea and lied. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, that’s because we’re discussing you. If we were tearing apart my life, which we’ve done often enough, then you’d know exactly what I was talking about.”

“Mel-”

“Look, I know I’m a screwup, but I don’t expect it of you.”

“And just what am I supposedly screwing up?”

“Seen Adam much lately?”

“A little.”

“Because of his busy schedule?”

“Uh…no.”

“Because you’ve been ignoring him?”

Rachel looked at her fingers. Specifically her fingernails. Which were ragged and hadn’t seen a nail file or polish in months.

“You know, before the accident, I’d have sworn you were this close to sleeping with him.” Mel held up fingers only an inch apart. “Maybe even considering marrying him.”

“The accident changed everything.”

“The accident did…or Ben?”

Rachel’s gaze jerked up to Mel’s before she could stop herself. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Is it ridiculous that you never sleep with anyone? Is it ridiculous that if you did, you’d fake an orgasm rather than tell them they’re totally inept with the female anatomy…or that you can’t seem to relinquish that last little bit of control?”

“Mel-”

“Admit it, sis. You don’t know how to let someone be that close to you.”

“Like you know!”

“Hey, I know how to climax.” A smug smile crossed her well-glossed mouth. “Often.” She flashed a look to the man who’d just let himself in and was now leaning back with lazy ease against the doorjamb, unabashedly eavesdropping on what Rachel figured to be her most embarrassing moment. She wanted to crawl in a hole and die- Right after she killed Melanie. “Where’s Emily?” she asked, striving for cool, calm and collected.

“Bathing Patches, who seems to have a thing for jumping in puddles.” With a wry smile, Ben lifted his leg to examine the bottom of his jeans, which were mud splattered. Then he leveled Rachel with one of those classic Ben looks that made her pulse scramble and her skin feel too tight. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

“To not interrupt you’d have to be on the other side of the closed door,” Rachel muttered.

Melanie grinned. “Talking sex makes her grumpy.”

“Not me,” Ben offered.

And Mel, still grinning, nodded. “Me, either. So Ben…we’re taking a survey…do you ever fake your orgasms?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Me, either.” Melanie cocked her head. “It just seems like if someone was going to fake it…then they’d fake it the other way. You know, like they didn’t get one.”

Given Ben’s wide grin, he agreed.

“That way, you’d get another,” Mel reasoned. “Maybe even two, depending on how fast you can come.”

“I’m with you.” Ben looked at Rachel and the temperature shot up in the room to boiling point. “Orgasms are good.”

Melanie laughed. Laughed. “Yeah. Well, if Ms. Prude here would get off her duff and call Adam over here, maybe she’d figure it out.”

Ben’s smile faded at that.

Not noticing, or maybe not caring, Mel jumped down off the counter and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Rachel demanded of her sister.

“Off to watch my niece bathe a puppy. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t, sis.” A sly smile crept over her features. “Oh wait…I don’t have to tell you that, you won’t do anything.”

“Come back here-” She let out a breath when Mel let the door shut behind her. “Traitor.”

Ben sauntered his way toward her. “Interesting topic of conversation.” He walked around the back of her, trailing a finger over her shoulder and bringing a set of goose bumps to the surface of her skin. “Orgasms.”

Did that require a response? Suddenly, she could hardly breathe, much less think of a brilliant way out of this particular topic. “H-how was your hike?”

“Fun.” Then he leaned in over her shoulder, putting his mouth right beneath her ear, against the sensitive skin there. “Is it true, Rach?”

“Is wh-what true?”

His breath was soft and warm against her skin, his jaw rough with a day’s old growth. The contrast liquefied her bones. “Do you fake your orgasms with your lovers?”

“I-” His fingers trailed upward, over the back of her neck and she fought to keep her eyes open.

“Rachel?”

She closed her mouth. “I don’t want to discuss this with you.”

“I bet you don’t.” Shifting around so that they were face-to-face, he ran a finger over her cheek. “So let’s cut to the chase.”

“Ben-”

His hand slid around the back of her neck to cup her head, holding her gaze steady with his. “Did you fake with me?”

Trying to pull away did no good, he was strong and, though his hold was gentle, he couldn’t be budged. “We were seventeen!” she said, exasperated on all counts. “We had no particular skills in that area and you know it.”

He brought their faces even closer together. “I did the best I could back then, but yeah, we were young. Young and inexperienced. I’m sorry if I wasn’t any good for you.”

Remembering what they’d shared brought a flush to her cheeks. Truth was, inexperienced or not, it stood unrivaled to this very day as the hottest, most erotic, most touching experience of her life.

And he was apologizing for it.

“But I promise you,” he said softly, still holding her gaze prisoner. “If you sleep with me now, I’d prove there’s no need to fake anything.”

She stared at his mouth, wide and firm, and yet she had reason to know it felt soft and tasted like pure heaven.

“Rach…?”

She actually leaned toward that low, sexy voice making promises she thought she just might be interested in. Then she thought of the actual physical action required to do what he was suggesting.

He’d get naked. No problem there.

Then she’d have to get naked-big problem there. He was perfection, and she… “No.”

Ben let out a soft, rude noise and dared her with both his eyes and his voice. “Chicken,” he taunted softly.

“Just being realistic.”

Another man would have conceded defeat and walked away. Another man would have hidden his thoughts.

Ben stood there, right there, only inches away, and let her see everything he felt. Annoyance. Heat. Frustration.

Heat. “You’re really not going let me prove it?”

“No.” She looked away. “I’m not interested.”

“Ten minutes,” he promised silkily. “I could rock your world in ten minutes.”

“Go away, Ben.”

No big surprise, he did.


BEN SHOVED OUT the front door, slowing down only to lock it behind him. Asada was long gone, everyone kept telling him that, but he couldn’t break the old habit of watching his back.

And Emily’s.

And Rachel’s. Damn her.

She’d kicked him out. Nothing new. Stepping out the front gate, he joined the early Saturday morning shoppers, of which there were many, and lost himself in the streets. They were as different from the mean, hustling, dangerous streets he’d gotten used to as they could get. These were clean and tantalized with mouthwatering scents from the cafés. They were busy, but also easygoing and safe. No need for this terrible tension and aggression, and no outlet for those feelings, either.

Stalking along, blindly window-shopping, he was torn between wishing he was on the other side of the world, and wishing Rachel would have let him fulfill his promise. It would kill them both, of course, being together like that again. Or at least it would kill him, but-

“Ben!”

Oh, and now he was hearing things. Rachel’s soft voice above the crowd. As if she’d be chasing him down, as if she could-

“Ben, wait!”

Whipping around, he stopped short in shock. Rachel, in her loose, gauzy sundress and sandals, using her cane as she chased him down at an alarming speed. She was going to stumble and take a fall, was his first heart-stopping thought.

She looked frantic to catch him. Him, Ben Asher, the man she’d just shoved out her door.

“I’m sorry,” she rushed, still coming at him. When she was within two feet, he held out his arms, completely without thought.

She walked right into them and fit like she belonged there.

At the slight tightening of his arms and his lack of smile, hers faded. She swallowed hard. “Oh, Ben.”

The two words spoke volumes and yet didn’t tell him a thing. “Did you want to finish talking about orgasms?” he asked a little hoarsely.

A woman walking by, arms loaded with shopping bags, looked over with a lifted eyebrow.

“Uh, no.” Rachel smiled apologetically at the woman. “I was hoping we could talk about…other stuff.”

“I’d rather give you an orgasm.”

This time it was a man walking his hundred-pound Saint Bernard who overheard, and he shot them a comical second glance while Rachel closed her eyes. “Talk, Ben. Can we talk?”

“If that’s all you’ve got.”

“That’s all you’re getting.” She pointed to a sidewalk café a few buildings down. “Hungry?”

For you. “Sure.”

When they were seated, Rachel ordered an iced tea, set her menu aside, and looked at him across the table.

“What?”

“Don’t brood.”

“Why would I brood?”

“I don’t know.”

He nodded. “Are you sleeping with Adam?”

She sighed.

His heart kicked once, hard. “Are you?”

“You have such a one-track mind.”

“Are you?”

“You know that’s none of your business.”

He answered with a very impolite one-word expletive and she sighed again. “No, I’m not sleeping with Adam.”