Louder Than Words (22 page)

But could you do that other thing again? I really liked that
. Too embarrassed to say that out loud, I reverted to my old ways.

“What other thing?” He paused outside the door to my room. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

You know. That thing …

“I want you to tell me what you want.” He put me down on my bed in a patch of moonlight.

I shook my head.

“Use your words, Sasha.” He was going to make me work for it.

I closed my eyes so I didn’t have to look at him. “Fine, be that way. I want you to touch me the way you did when I was at your house. I want you to make me scream again. Is that what you want to hear?” As mortifying as it was to say it out loud, it was definitely worth it.

“That’s exactly what I want.” He lay down on top of me, his legs hanging off the end of the bed. “Am I crushing you?” His elbows rested on the bed as he planted tiny kisses all over my face.

“No, you could never hurt me, but that tickles.” I twitched my nose.

“Just you wait.” In one motion, Ben slipped out of his shirt and started to unbutton mine. “This is okay, right?”

“What if I said no?”

“I might not take no for an answer.” Ben swallowed hard. “Oh, that was bad. Did that make you think of those football assholes? I’m such an idiot. I was just playing—you know that. I would never force you to do anything.”

I’m fine. I wasn’t thinking about them at all. I like when you tease me like that. It’s really hot, actually
. I ran my hand down his chest, and he shuddered.
So we’re okay?
He nodded.
Then back to work
.

He kissed his way from my lips down to the top of my jeans, unbuttoned them, and pulled down the zipper. Although I was incredibly ticklish, I tried to hold it together.

Ben looked up. “You can laugh. I don’t mind.”

Pressing his lips against my stomach, he kissed a trail down to my panties. Instead of laughing, I moaned. Mind reading wasn’t his only gift.

A car door slammed once, then twice, and I let out a yelp. “Shit, that can’t be them.” Time flew when we were together, but it couldn’t have passed that quickly. I looked at the bedside clock. “It’s only nine-thirty.”

“It’s fine. Just put your shirt back on … and breathe.” Ben tucked in his own shirt and stood in front of the mirror, trying to tame his wild curls. “Do you need a little help with that?”

Alarm bells going off in my head, my fingers fumbled with the buttons. Calm and collected, as usual, Ben quickly did up my shirt and ran his fingers through my hair. “You’ve got a wicked case of bed head. Maybe you should put your hair up.”

“Good idea. We have a little problem beyond my hair, though. I decided not to tell them about my voice, and I kind of hadn’t gotten around to telling them that we were back together, either. Charlotte’s going to go apeshit.” Procrastination was a bad habit of mine, and I needed to do something about it, soon.

“Probably an understatement. Here I am in your bedroom, and it’s obvious we haven’t been playing chess. So I guess you can tell them now, at least about the back together part. The sometimes-talking part can wait. You don’t want to shock them with too much news all at once.”

We stood toe to toe, smoothing each other’s clothes. The front door slammed and I could hear voices and laughter. At least they were in a good mood.

“Come on,” Ben whispered. “The best defense is a good offense.” He took me by the hand and led me into the kitchen.

“Oh!” Charlotte jumped. “Ben, you startled me. What are you doing here?”

Stuart, more astute than my aunt, quickly sized up the situation. “Hi there, Ben. Long time no see. How’ve you been?”

“Very good, sir. And you?” With his military academy posture and Ivy League diction, Ben looked and sounded guilty of
something
.

“It’s good to have you back. Charlotte, Sasha and Ben have evidently patched things up. Congratulations, kids.”

I picked up my voice box. “WE JUST GOT BACK FROM DINNER. I DIDN’T THINK YOU’D BE HOME UNTIL MUCH LATER.”

“Apparently.” Stuart unsuccessfully tried to stifle his smirk and raised his eyebrows at me.

“When did you two start seeing each other again? Sasha, why didn’t you tell me? Ben, do you realize how upset we were when you left Sasha? That was a terrible thing to do.”

We? While I was happy that Charlotte cared, sometimes it sounded like it was all about Charlotte.

“I’M SORRY I DIDN’T TELL YOU. I WANTED TO SEE IF IT WAS GOING TO STICK BEFORE I SAID ANYTHING. IT WAS JUST BECAUSE I DIDN’T WANT TO UPSET YOU.” Perfect explanation—diplomatic, logical, Charlotte-centered.

“Oh, sweetheart, you can tell me anything. You shouldn’t have to go through all of this alone. Give me a hug,” Charlotte said as she held out her arms.

No matter how clumsy she sometimes was at the parenting thing, it was obvious she loved me and had only the best intentions. I needed to cut her some slack.

“Mr. and Mrs. Thompson, I’m really sorry about what happened between Sasha and me. I just felt she wasn’t focusing on her recovery as much as she should, and I didn’t want to be a distraction. But I realize now that I couldn’t stand being away from her, and maybe I can help her get better if I work really hard on our relationship.”

“You’re good,” Stuart whispered to Ben. “You should go into politics with patter like that. Brilliant.”

“I really mean it. It’s not just talk.” Ben looked earnestly at my uncle and clasped my hand tightly.

Charlotte yawned and looked at her watch, apparently satisfied with all the explanations. “All’s well that ends well. Now I have to go to bed. We skipped the jazz club because after two cosmos all I wanted to do was go to sleep early, so that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Goodnight, children, and Ben, welcome back to the fold. Don’t you dare hurt my baby again.” There was no bitterness in her voice as she kissed Ben on the cheek. “Come on, Stuart, you promised me a massage.” She slowly climbed the stairs and disappeared into her bedroom.

“Duty calls. Goodnight, then. Sorry to interrupt your reconciliation. Feel free to get back to whatever it was you two were doing.” With a naughty wink, Stuart took a bottle of champagne out of the refrigerator and two glasses from the cupboard. “Why waste a good massage? Don’t come a-knockin’.”

A door slammed upstairs, and then we heard the pop of a champagne cork and Charlotte’s unmistakable giggle.

“I like your uncle.”

“He’s a great guy. I’m really lucky.”

Stuart was the perfect tempering influence. He managed to keep Charlotte’s more hysterical tendencies at bay, and although he’d never wanted kids of his own, he truly was a natural and gifted parent. Whatever the situation, he said and did exactly the right thing. No drama, just consistent, loving logic.

“I guess I should go home now?” Clearly Ben was hoping we could pick up right where we left off, but I felt funny messing around downstairs while my aunt and uncle were going at it upstairs.

“Raincheck?” Kissing him chastely, my lips resting on his cheek for a few extra seconds … why was I sending him home again?

“I guess it
would
be a little weird, huh?” he asked. I held up my thumb and forefinger. “Will you at least walk me out to my car?”

In the dark driveway, Ben picked me up and sat me on the hood. I wrapped my legs around him, his hips pressing hard against me, and I could feel how much he wanted to stay.

“Are you sure we can’t go back inside?” he asked. His voice was husky.

“I’m sure,” I said, panting, although if he’d insisted, I would’ve relented.

My body and my head were waging a death match as to which one was going to be in charge. But as usual, gentleman and voice of reason, Ben said no more, refusing to take advantage of my ambivalence. He softly kissed my swollen lips and held me tight, not forcing the issue.

After a few minutes of making out, he said, “I’m never going to fall asleep tonight, Sasha. This is bad.”

Dream about me, about next time
.
Can I touch you, like you touched me? I don’t want to scare you away again
.

There was bold, and then there was pushy to the point of offensive. I had made that mistake once already. Had I just crossed the slut line again?

He groaned. “Not scared, but you shouldn’t have said that. I’ll never make it until next time.” Picking me up, he carried me back to the front door. “I have to go home now, and take the first in a series of cold showers. I love you, sweet girl.”

“I love you, too, and thank you for everything, for taking such good care of me tonight, and not totally mocking my Dr. O. theory.”

“No offense, but for the last hour, Dr. O. and her perfume haven’t exactly been on my mind.” He kissed my neck, lingering for a few seconds, the sound of his excited breathing hindering my resolve to behave.

“Mine either. But thanks anyway, and please stop doing that. I feel faint.”

I took long slow breaths of the cool, damp night air, trying to keep the dizziness from overwhelming me. As amazing as it felt, I needed to calm down.

“Sorry. Can’t help it. Even though I think you’re off the wall with this, I’ll help you however I can. The sooner we get your head squared away, the sooner we can focus on the rest of you.” He put both hands around my waist and squeezed.

“Goodnight, Ben. Sleep tight.”

I rested my head against his chest. His heart was beating like he’d just run a race.

“Unlikely. Fantasize about us. If I can’t sleep, I’ll just sit in my car and listen to your thoughts—my own private porn tape.”

“You’re kind of pervy for a gentleman.”

“Isn’t that what you like best about me?”

As he said this, he blew gently in my ear. I felt it in my toes. At that moment, I would have done anything he asked.

“That, and your hair.” I grabbed a handful and yanked playfully. “Now go home before I change my mind—
your
virtue could be in danger if you stay.”

“If only … goodnight.”

He peeled himself off of me and drove away, leaving me alone in the dark—in love, in lust, and in limbo. Was it possible to maintain this kind of closeness with him—fooling around but stopping before we took the final step? I hoped so, but the way I felt, I was beginning to doubt it. Maybe Dr. Reuben had some insight into this dilemma. I went upstairs to consult my sex manual.

Ben had insisted on accompanying us on our research expedition to the mall. “I’m the only other person who smelled Dr. O.’s perfume. Jules doesn’t have the faintest idea what you’re looking for. Don’t you think another pair of nostrils could be helpful? I mean, there must be thousands of perfumes. Your nose will be worn out after a few sniffs.”

“I suppose you’re right. But no making fun of me,” I warned him.

“No more than usual.” He pulled into Jules’s driveway and honked the horn every five seconds until she came running out. “I don’t think she likes me.”

“She likes you well enough. All that honking will only help, I’m sure.”

Jules opened the car door and slid into the back seat. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you. Why didn’t you honk?”

“Horn got stuck. Sorry.”

Why was he acting like a stupid teenager now? “BEN, DON’T TEASE.”

We were barely at the corner when Jules said, “Sasha told me what you did for her. Don’t blush. I’m impressed. She said you were very, um, how shall I say … dexterous.”

Jules cleared her throat loudly. I reached back and slapped her knee.

“You can call me Dr. Fisher, amateur therapist.” Ben blew on his knuckles.

“You think it would work for me?” she asked.

Jules was having too much fun. If she weren’t my oldest and best friend, I would have sworn she was making a play for him. Either that or she hated him—it was hard to tell which.

“STOP IT, JULES. YOU’RE EMBARRASSING HIM … AND ME.”

“I could see
you
playing for the girls’ team, Jules, but I don’t see Sasha as a switch hitter, no matter how much she wants to talk to you.” Ben glanced at Jules in the rear view mirror and laughed.

“Ooh, the kitten has claws. Maybe I’ll let you stay, after all.” Jules scratched at the back of Ben’s seat.

“STOP FLIRTING YOU TWO. WE HAVE A JOB TO DO.”

“Yeah, about that. Why am I here? I wasn’t with you at the restaurant, so I didn’t get to sniff the good doctor’s sweater. What use am I?”

“That’s exactly what I said, but Sasha thinks I’m a little too skeptical about her theory that Dr. O. is a hit-and-run driver with a guilty conscience and a nasty white wine habit. Apparently you’re much more receptive to her ideas, however nutty they are. Maybe it’s that artistic thing you’ve got going on.” Ben kept peeking in the mirror to gauge Jules’s reactions to his taunts.

“So I’m just here for moral support. That works for me. I’m not about to let you steal my best friend from me, Dr. Fisher, even though you’ve given her the ultimate gift … and, no, I’m not talking about your voice, Sasha.” Jules moaned quietly, just in case we’d missed her point. “I have to admit, I’m a little jealous. Your first ride on the merry-go-round, Sash, and you get the brass ring.”

Ignoring Jules, Ben crooned along with the radio. “Fly me to the moon …”

I loved his voice and the old-fashioned music he favored. Yet another unique and charming trait, although apparently not to everyone.

“Fine, I’ll change it. You struck me as someone who would appreciate a little Sinatra,” Ben said as he started pressing buttons on the dashboard, stopping at some Top 40 station. “I didn’t think you’d have such generic taste, Jules.”

“What are you talking about? Sasha, what is he talking about? I didn’t say a word.” Jules was totally perplexed. “But as long as you mention it, do you think we could listen to something from this century? I’m not as turned on by this retro crap as my best friend seems to be.”

Looking sideways, I clapped my hand over my mouth.
Oh, shit. Did you just read her mind? I never told her about your special talent … well, your other special talent
.

Ben slapped his forehead. “Shit,” he said under his breath.

“WE’RE HERE.” Not a moment too soon we had arrived at the mall.

Jules pulled me aside and we walked a few steps ahead of Ben as we crossed the parking lot. “What’s with him? Is he crazy?”

I just shrugged. What could I say?

“The funny thing is I was thinking that Sinatra was a total snooze and why couldn’t we listen to something less Paleolithic. But how could he know that?”

“WEIRD.”

Would she figure it out for herself? Or would she hopefully forget about the whole thing when she got distracted by some shiny object in the cosmetics department?

“All right, ladies: deep, cleansing breaths. Where do we begin?”

Ben inhaled slowly and ushered us into the hall of mirrors that was the makeup department. There had to be a thousand different perfumes on display, along with cosmetics and powders and soaps. Trying to isolate a single scent among this jumble of fragrances would be difficult.

“Sash, are you crazy? There’s no way you’re going to be able to pick out one perfume when they’re all mixed together.”

Jules had barely spoken when a young woman in a cocktail napkin that passed for a skirt teetered over in stilettos, offering us a spray of a new scent, Kinky, in a black glass bottle wrapped in tiny silver chains.

Ben winked at me. “Is that for men or women?”

“We have a scent for each, sir. Would you like to try it?” She was practically purring as she stood next to him, her impressive breasts not so accidentally brushing his arm.

“What if I hate it?” Ben looked like he was about to lose it. “I’ll be stuck with it all day.”

We have work to do. Stop flirting with Bambi. By the way, what do fake boobs feel like?

Ben’s obvious indifference to her charms made the situation amusing. She
was
smoking hot, and she was definitely making a play for him, but he wasn’t buying, no matter how hard she sold it.

“Why don’t you see if you like it on me first?” She slid her pale, slender wrist under Ben’s nose. “Does it do anything for you? Kind of sexy, isn’t it?” Definitely not talking about the perfume.

“You know, I really think I’m more of a Brut guy. I’m not sure I’m ready to get Kinky.”

I took his hand and led him away.
Are you having fun?

“I’m having the best time. Jules, are you having fun yet?”

Jules just stared at him curiously. Apparently the lipstick and perfume had failed to take her mind off what had happened in the car. In an effort to get back to business, I tried to describe what I was looking for.

“IT SMELLED LIKE FLOWERS, FRENCH SOMEHOW.”

“That definitely narrows things down, Sash. French, flower? Hardly any perfumes fit into that category.” Jules took a deep breath and shook her head. “You realize we’re looking for a needle in a haystack, assuming you even remember the smell after sniffing all this crap.” She sneezed.

“I’LL REMEMBER THAT SMELL UNTIL THE DAY I DIE. IF IT’S IN THIS STORE, I’LL FIND IT.”

But what if it wasn’t in this store? Or any other store?

“So let’s be logical.” Ben walked over to one of the glass counters where an older woman in a low-cut blouse stared into space, clearly wishing she were anyplace else. “Ma’am, do you think you can help us? We’re looking for a certain perfume. We don’t know what it’s called, but we know what it smells like.”

She looked relieved to have something to do. “It won’t be easy, but we can certainly try. Can you describe the scent? Most perfumes fall into one of several categories: floral, citrus, musky, vanilla, tropical. If you could focus the search a bit, that would be helpful.”

“It’s definitely floral, and it smelled French. Does that make sense?”

“Sure, it’s a place to start. Instead of a thousand perfumes, we can look at a few hundred.” Was she being encouraging or sarcastic? It was impossible to tell.

One hour and fifty bottles later, we had nothing, other than stuffy noses and throbbing sinus headaches. Nothing smelled even remotely close to Dr. O’Rourke’s perfume. Ben agreed with me. Whatever she had been wearing was no run-of-the-mill department store fragrance. This wasn’t going to be so easy. But if it were simple, then it probably wouldn’t be my life.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. Perhaps the scent you’re looking for is a custom blend, in which case, you’d have to ask the person who wears it. But most people who go to the trouble and expense of commissioning their own fragrance don’t like to share. Also, there are many perfumes sold in Europe that aren’t imported to the United States and can only be purchased overseas. Good luck with your search.” The saleswoman turned to another customer.

“Now what, Scooby Doo?” Jules seemed to have recovered her good humor, which in Ben’s company meant sarcasm.

“I don’t know, Shaggy. Back to the Mystery Mobile for a Scooby Snack? What do you think, Velma?” Ben threw his arm over my shoulder. Even in defeat, he made me smile.

“WHY DO I HAVE TO BE VELMA? I WANT TO BE DAPHNE. SHE’S THE PRETTY ONE, ISN’T SHE?” I hadn’t watched that cartoon for years, but I did remember that Velma was the homely one.

“Yeah, but Daphne’s stupid. I’d rather be with the smart, plain girl than the beautiful idiot. Beauty fades, but brains last forever,” Ben said.

“So what are you saying? Sasha’s a Velma?” Was Jules trying to make trouble or just following the game to its logical conclusion?

“JULES, DON’T START.” Ben had told me many times he thought I was beautiful, and that was good enough for me.

“What I’m saying is that if I had to choose between brains and beauty, which I don’t, because Sasha is way hot and incredibly smart, but if I had to choose, I would always pick brains. Smart is much sexier than cute. Just my opinion. Does that make you insecure, Jules? Because you know I think you’re really pretty.”

Jules and Ben continued to do this almost fighting, almost flirting thing, all the way back to the car. I still couldn’t tell whether they liked or despised each other.

“WHAT’S GOING ON WITH YOU TWO? JULES, ARE YOU CRUSHING ON MY BOYFRIEND? BEN? IT’S TOO CREEPY. COULD YOU GUYS JUST BE NORMAL WITH EACH OTHER?”

We got in the car and Jules promptly started kicking the back of Ben’s seat.

“Nothing, Sash. We’re just playing. Your beau is cute, but he’s way too old for me. I’m into Coldplay, not Cole Porter. But that 1950s thing is perfect for you, Sasha, and he does have a killer body. I have to give him that.”

“You’re making me blush, Jules. Should we call a truce? We’re making Sasha uncomfortable.” He turned around and the two shook hands. “No more insults?”

“Agreed.” But Jules held up her other hand, fingers crossed.

“NOW THAT WE HAVE YOUR RELATIONSHIP SQUARED AWAY, WHAT DO WE DO ABOUT THE PERFUME?”

This expedition may have been a lark for the two of them, but to me this was a serious business. That smell was the key to getting my voice back.

“I have a wild plan. Why don’t you just ask Dr. O. where she got it? If she had it custom made, you’ll know she’s the one.” Ben glanced over at me as he drove. “Or is that too confrontational for you?”

“Curly has a good idea. Why not just face her head on? If she’s guilty, she’ll either collapse at your feet, begging for absolution, or she’ll kill you to cover her tracks. Whatever happens, at least you’ll know.”

Considering Jules was the one who had started this whole investigation, climbing trees dressed in camouflage and watching old Hardy Boys episodes on DVD, she seemed awfully blasé about it now. She did have a short attention span, and I guess my progress in solving the crime hadn’t moved swiftly enough to hold her interest.

“I could go for something, too. Let’s stop and get something to eat,” Ben said.

“What the…? How did you know I was hungry? What’s going on?” Jules looked from Ben to me and back again.

“Um.” Ben cleared his throat a couple of times.

What’s wrong with you? You never make that mistake, ever
.

Ben shrugged his shoulders, and Jules leaned forward between the two front seats.

“HE MUST HAVE HEARD YOUR STOMACH GROWL.” It was a lame attempt to explain away Ben’s behavior, since I could see that he didn’t want to tell Jules about his unusual gift.

“No, my stomach didn’t growl. What aren’t you telling me? Is this some kind of freaky Jedi mind trick?” Jules narrowed her eyes.

I looked at Ben and nodded. Maybe it was time.

“I can read minds, Jules. That’s how I knew you were hungry,” Ben said softly as he pulled into the diner parking lot.

Jules punched him in the arm, hard. “Are you kidding me? You actually want me to believe you’ve got ESP? Sash, your boyfriend is a total whack job. You know that, don’t you?”

“IT’S TRUE. BEN KNOWS EXACTLY WHAT I’M THINKING, WHAT YOU’RE THINKING, WHAT EVERYBODY’S THINKING.”

“Nobody can read other people’s thoughts. Why are you two mindfucking me? It’s mean.” Jules rarely got angry.

“Nobody’s mindfucking you. It’s true. Go ahead. Think about something,” Ben urged as we sat in the parked car.

After a few seconds, Ben smiled and said, “I’m not going to repeat what you were thinking, Jules, because I was raised not to use language like that, but I can assure you that my parents are legally married and I was not conceived out of wedlock.”

“Lucky guess. I’m not convinced,” she growled.

“JULES, YOU’RE BEING RIDICULOUS. THINK ABOUT IT. WHO WOULD MAKE UP SOMETHING LIKE THAT? ISN’T IT LOGICAL? WHAT GUY WOULD WANT ME IF HE HAD TO LISTEN TO A ROBOT VOICE ALL THE TIME?”

Having gotten used to Ben’s gift, I couldn’t understand why Jules was having such a hard time wrapping her head around it.

“Okay, Jules, think of a word, a very strange word, a total non sequitur, and that will be proof.” Ben turned and stared deep into Jules’s eyes. “Would it help if I wore a turban or carried a crystal ball? I know you’re an actress, and it’s all about the props with you guys.”

Jules squinted back at him, gnawing at her lower lip. “Okay, smartass, what word am I thinking about?”

“Really, Jules? I should be insulted, but I’ll cut you some slack. You were thinking of the word ‘charlatan.’” Jules gasped and Ben held out his hand. “Now that you know, you must swear on your life not to tell anyone. Not that most people would believe it, but I would rather not be seen as a walking parlor trick.”

Jules pumped his hand vigorously and crossed her heart twice. “To the grave. This is too cool. You really know what everybody’s thinking?”