Cupid's Mistake (12 page)

Greg said, "I'm just along for the show," with a
wink for Ben.

Obviously bewildered, Ben spread his hands before him.
"I don't understand. I spoke with Helen myself, everything seemed
fine."

Jeff
tcha'
d
indignantly. "Of course she wouldn't let on how worried she was to
you
. Does she know you? No, she does not. Allison's her
baby girl, you could have been an axe murderer for all she knew."

"Oh, my Lord," Allison said under her breath. Mia
elbowed her gently in the side.

Thrusting his cell phone at Allison, his face turned
dramatically away from her, Jeff said, "Call your mother before she
harasses me into an early grave. You can explain to Helen why, in your moment
of need, you turned to a s
tranger
instead
of your own mother or your best friends in the world."

Wincing, Allison reached out to take the phone, but Derrick
snatched it from Jeff's grasp. "I'll do it," he said to Allison.
"You're in no condition to deal with her."

Glaring at Jeff, who crossed his arms and turned pointedly
away, Derrick took the phone and left the room. The words, "Helen? She's
fine. No, I'm here now," floated back to the crowded bedroom as he walked
down the hall toward the kitchen.

An awkward silence fell over the group. Standing up, Mia
held out a hand to Allison and offered to help her shower, so with one cautious
glance between Ben and Jeff, Allison agreed. Jeff pushed in front of Ben and
swept her into his arms to carry her into the bathroom, but she mouthed a
silent, "Thank you," to Ben over Jeff's shoulder, which seemed to
ease the look in his eyes. Greg gave her a shooing wave of his hand to indicate
they'd be fine.

In the bathroom, Jeff deposited her on the closed toilet
seat, then crouched in front of her, his hands on her cheeks. "Are you
really all right, honey?" he asked.

Nodding, Allison placed her forehead to rest against his.
"I am now. I'm sorry you were worried."

He hugged her gently, then kissed the top of her head.
"What's a little sheer terror between friends? Next time, call us, though,
okay?"

"There better not be a next time," she muttered.

"Just feel better, sweet pea. I love you."

Hugging him again, Allison closed her eyes against the tears
that wanted to spring. "I love you, too. Thanks."

"All right, you, time to go," Mia said, waving him
out. "Shoo."

"Let me know if you need any help," he said.

"We've got it, but thanks. You could make sure she's
got clean pjs and something hot to drink when she gets out."

"I'm on it," he said, saluting them with a
debonair flip of the hand.

Alone in the bathroom with Mia, Allison said, "Do you
think the guys will be okay out there?"

"Derrick will keep an eye on them, don't worry,"
Mia soothed. "Come on. You'll feel better once you're cleaned up."

The shower took way longer than it should have. Her muscles
simply refused to cooperate, and she had to take several breaks to sit and get
her breath back, even with Mia's help, but finally, it was done. Her hair hung,
heavy and wet, down her back. She sat again on the lowered toilet seat lid
while Mia painstakingly worked out the snarls. Brushing her teeth was heaven.
But by the time her toilette was complete, she was exhausted.

"Stay here," Mia murmured.

Minutes later, she returned with Ben, who lifted her into
his arms and carried her back to bed. Someone had changed her linens while she
was in the bath, so she slid into fresh, cool sheets with a grateful sigh.

Mia brushed her hand over her forehead, then leaned down to
place a kiss there. "Get some rest," she said. "I'll get the guys
out of here."

Allison smiled at her, her eyes drooping heavily, but when
Ben would have turned away, she reached for his hand and tugged him back to
face her. With the last of her energy, she smiled up at him and said,
"Thank you, Ben."

He held her gaze, and the moment stretched out, too many
emotions flowing between them to decipher them all. Gratitude, trust,
affection. Beyond that, she wasn't ready to say.

Ben's mouth kicked up in that little half-smile she was
starting to think she couldn't live without, and his grip tightened briefly on
her fingers.

"I'd say any time, but let's hope that's not
necessary," he said, giving her a wink and a squeeze of her fingers. She
tightened hers, and smiled again, but released his hand.

The soul-mate thing had always seemed like a bit of a game,
stories she halfheartedly believed in, hoped for, but not
really
. Her incredible reaction to Ben when they'd first
met had spooked her more than she'd wanted to admit. But after spending nearly
two full days—two very intimate days—with him, her whole
perspective had shifted. She might not have been ready for him, but like it or
not, this—whatever this was—had weight and substance to it, had
shockingly genuine feelings careening through her veins.

It didn't matter that they hardly knew each other. It held
the promise of joy. It had the power to hurt. No middle ground existed. She'd
either tumble down that treacherous slope and crash, or survive and claim him
as hers forever.

Either way, she'd have to find out. But not now. Not yet.
She needed to get her strength back. She needed to keep it casual a bit longer,
or she'd risk showing her cards too early, before she was ready to manage the
hand she'd been dealt, courtesy of Dee and Cupid.

Maybe it was cowardly, but she wanted just a little longer
to come to grips with the powerful emotions he'd raised without even trying. To
be sure they were real before she risked scaring him off. Or scaring herself.

Ben flicked his finger lightly over the tip of her nose
before turning toward the door. The last thing she saw was his face as he
looked over his shoulder at her once more and turned off the overhead light.
She was asleep before he crossed the threshold.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It took more than a week for Allison to get her full
strength and appetite back, though she still looked a bit pale even after ten
days. Ben spent at least part of every day with her, helping her when she
needed it or just keeping her company, conducting his business when she dealt
with hers. He did her grocery shopping and gathered her mail, and in the
evenings they watched TV together, snuggled up on her couch. He cooked her
meals, anything he could think of to get her to eat.

The day she asked for two cheeseburgers, a chocolate shake
and an order of fries from In-N-Out, he knew she was cured.

He took her to see the home he'd chosen, and they walked the
beach, hand in hand, slowly. It felt right, having her there. Her delight in
the house cemented his choice in his mind.

Her friends came over several times, singly, in pairs, or as
a group, including DeeDee and Sally. Eventually, he decided he liked them all.
Even Jeff, who continued to give him the cold shoulder until they got into a
discussion about musicals and musical theater. Ben sided with Jeff against the
rest of them with his opinions on a particular version of
Les Misérables
, and after that they were fast friends. Greg had
gifted him with a smile and a wink behind Jeff's back.

And all the while, he and Allison talked. He discovered
other sides to her beyond her party-princess image over the days and weeks they
spent together. He admired her business sense, enjoyed her humor. She loved her
friends and family deeply, was fiercely loyal. Having gone through her illness
together, the usual stiffness of a new relationship had disappeared, at least
once she got over her embarrassment. He teased her out of it by reminding her
he'd seen the inside of her stomach. There could be no secrets between them
after that.

They discussed their respective families, friends, and school
experiences. Allison shared her goals for her business with him. He told her
all about his travels and his ideas for bettering parts of the world he'd seen.
He even told her about Caitlyn, the whole story, not the bits and pieces she'd
heard from Sally. He told her why he'd left the way he had and why he'd finally
come back.

Eyes damp, she'd held his hand hard in hers. "I can't
even imagine."

The tears Allison shed had touched him deeply and helped to
further heal the wounded part of his heart where Caitlyn's memory lived.

It worried him sometimes, how fast he'd fallen for Allison,
but sometime during the second day of her illness, the realization had simply
taken him over. Now it was just right. It worried him, too, that she was really
the only woman he'd dated since Caitlyn, but he knew himself. Once love lodged
in his heart, it was there to stay. Would playing the field change anything in
how he felt about Allison? No. It would only delay the inevitable. He saw no
point in playing that game.

This time with her was like a relationship retreat, an
intensive program to condense months of dating into a few short days, bonding
them together tightly despite the still-chaste manner of their courtship.

And it was a courtship, or that was how he thought of it,
anyway. He hadn't quite got up the nerve to broach that topic with Allison yet,
but sometimes he caught her looking at him in such a way that made him believe
she felt as deeply for him as he already did for her.

The only fly in the ointment was the nonstop stream of phone
calls she received at all hours. From men. Not just one man, or even two. Lots
of men.

How was he supposed to compete with all that variety?

To her credit, she didn't seem to encourage them when she
spoke to any of them on the phone, but how could she with him sitting in the
next room? He didn't think of himself as insecure, nor did he mind a little
competition. He'd willingly work to have her to himself. But there sure were a
lot of competitors.

She was far more serious-minded than he'd first given her
credit for, dedicated to her business and her friends. He didn't want to tame
the wild side of her, other than to secure himself as the only man in her life.
The question was whether his party princess was ready to give up that part of
her social calendar for a life with him. He had some convincing to do.

Logic, reason and caution aside, he'd made up his mind.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"So," Mia said, plopping on the floor next to
Allison's couch with a stack of bridal magazines spread around her in a fan,
"how's it going with lover boy, and where is he tonight?"

Sitting above Mia on the purple couch, her legs stretched
out beneath one of her grandmother's ancient afghans, Allison thwacked Mia on
the head with a rolled up copy of Mia's
Orange County Bride
.

"He's not my lover boy," she said moodily,
"and he's babysitting for Sally. Her ex dropped the kids off with no
notice, and she had an event she couldn't get out of."

Mia twisted around to look Allison in the face.
"Trouble in Camelot?"

"What do you mean?"

"You tell me. He's your knight in shining armor while
you're sick and afterward. You've been making googly eyes at each other for
weeks, but now you're all—" She waved her hand to indicate Allison's
face. "So what's the problem?"

Allison shrugged. "No problem," she said, grabbing
the pint of Ben and Jerry's from between her knees for a bite. "It's just.
. ."

Snaking the ice cream out of her hands, Mia helped herself
to a spoonful. "Mmmmm," she said. "That's good." Handing it
back, she rubbed a hand over Allison's arm. "It's just what?"

"He hasn't—we haven't—and I don't know how
to bring it up. He introduces himself to you guys as my boyfriend, then doesn't
say another word about it. It's not like we're dating, we're just hanging out.
He comes over, we talk and eat and watch TV, and that's it."

"That sounds like dating to me," Mia interjected.

"Yeah, well." Allison sighed. "You were a
virgin until Derrick, so what do you know?"

She said it lightly, and Mia laughed along with her, but
inside, Allison's frustration had developed a keen edge. She was fully
recovered now, finally, but Ben continued to treat her like a China doll. After
that incredible o
h-my-God
kiss in the
restaurant parking lot, she was dying for another dose.

There'd been comfort in the hours they'd spent together, for
sure. A sense of rightness and belonging. But she'd experienced those same
feelings when hanging out with Mia, or Derrick, or Jeff. What about the rest?
What about passion, desire, sex?

Fluttering her hands in frustration, Allison said,
"There's no. . . oomph. No moves. The most he's done is kiss me on the
forehead. I'm not contagious, I had food poisoning."

"You know what your problem is," Mia said,
snagging another bite of ice cream before Allison could swat her hands away,
"you're too used to getting what you want."

"What's the point in not getting what you want? I want
him, and I know damn well he wants me. I can't figure him out."

Mia's expression was sympathetic, but Allison read amusement
underneath. She ground her teeth. "It's not funny! He's driving me crazy.
He just won't. . . He just won't."

Tapping a finger against the point of her chin, Mia said,
"Have you, you know. . . done the thing?"

"What thing?"

"The thing-thing!" she said, exasperated.
"Your thing, the 'come hither, big boy' thing. You wink and twitch your
hips and the men fall like dominoes."

Laughing now, Allison said, "I do no such thing."

"Trust me, as your best friend who's seen you in action
a bazillion times, yes, you most certainly do. Maybe he's waiting for a sign.
You were pretty sick. He doesn't know your usual style. He might be afraid of
moving too fast and scaring you off."