The Proposal Page 4

  “Goodnight.”

  And he left her alone, sitting on her bed.

  Chapter Five

  Every other Sunday, the girls and Josh had lunch together. It wasn’t lost on Andrea that Ryan was their bodyguard for the meal. Benton left this morning before she awoke. Though she doubted he managed much sleep on her couch. Lord knew after the nightmare, she slept hardly at all. It had more to do with Benton than the dream.

  Growing warm as she thought of the moment in bed, she sipped quickly on her water. She hadn’t meant to induce his discomfort. But it gave her a little thrill when she remembered the way he felt against her. Did it prove he felt an attraction toward her? Or was it simply a reaction any man would have? Sometimes Benton could be so sweet too, and then he opened his mouth and ruined it.

  “Andy, hello? Where did you go?” Emme waved a hand in front of her face.

  Blinking, she pressed her palms to her flushed cheeks. The waitress waited patiently for her to order. Feeling foolish, she rattled off the first thing she could think of and wished the girl wouldn’t ask her questions about lettuce, pickles and tomatoes when her brain was scrambled.

  “So,” Josh drawled, swirling his straw in his soda, “I heard Benton stayed the night last night.”

  Her heart thumped at the mention of Benton.

  “Oh, do tell!” Emme demanded, pushing aside her drink to rest her hand chin on her palm, attention rapt on Andrea.

  “Is nothing a secret around here?” She managed to resist the urge to roll her eyes.

  “I’m afraid I’m curious too,” Ashlyn interjected, swiping her finger through the whipped cream on the top of her milkshake.

  “It was nothing. Nothing happened,” she was quick to add.

  Josh made a disappointed face. “I am bummed, to say the least. I was expecting to hear about hot-”

  “Josh!” Andrea interrupted, cheeks heating up again.

  Emme leaned back in her chair, sighing. “I just don’t know about you two. When are you going to hook up already?”

  “We are not hooking up, Emme.”

  Ashlyn scanned Andrea’s face. “Are you all right? Did something happen?”

  Beginning to wish she skipped Sunday lunch, Andrea sat back. “Do I really need to talk about this?”

  “Hell yes.” Josh again.

  “If you must know, I went on a date with Brad last night.”

  “What does Brad have to do with Benton?” Emme wanted to know.

  “Nothing, really. The date... Well, let’s just say it didn’t end well. And Benton didn’t help.”

  “Still not getting the connection,” Emme pushed.

  “Okay, okay. Brad kissed me. I didn’t want him to, but...” She trailed off, shrugging. “I could’ve handled it. But Benton showed up and... He was rough with him,” she explained, frowning.

  “So, he forced himself on you?” Ashlyn pushed, expression relaying her displeasure.

  Uncomfortable, Andrea shrugged, playing with her napkin.

  “Andrea?” Josh questioned.

  “Yes.”

  “That creep. I hope Benton twisted him into a pretzel,” Emme voiced, eyes flashing with anger.

  “He did enough,” she admitted, tearing her napkin into shreds.

  “Benton stayed with you to watch over you,” Josh said, more a statement and less a question.

  “Yes. So, you see, nothing happened.”

  “That is such a huge disappointment,” Josh said, as if it were him missing out on the chance to sleep with Benton.

  It became obvious to her friends months ago that she liked the driver. The only one who seemed not to notice was Benton, himself. Andrea began to wonder if there was something wrong with her. She couldn’t attract the man she wanted, but she managed to date plenty she didn’t. Maybe she lacked sex appeal; or maybe Benton simply didn’t notice her because he had no interest.

  Neither option was one she wanted to face.

  “He was just doing his job,” Andrea admitted.

  Josh snorted on his soda. “Yeah, right. I want to know what he was doing there in the first place.”

  Ashlyn tossed a napkin at Josh. “Josh has a point, Andrea. Benton knew you were on a date, yet he interrupted it.”

  Emme waggled a finger. “He shouldn’t have been there to begin with.”

  “Oh, you guys, stop it. There are more important things to talk about than my non-existent love life.”

  Josh pretended to consider her words. “No, not really.”

  Thankfully, their food arrived. Andrea immediately plowed into hers, keeping her mouth full as much as possible so she didn’t need to answer any more questions. She knew her friends cared. Their badgering tactics bordered on harassment though. Not to mention it was embarrassing. She only hoped Benton never walked in on one of their conversations.

  “Are you going to press charges against Brad?” Emme wanted to know, around bites of french fries.

  Andrea swallowed. “For what? If anything, Benton was the one who assaulted him. It was just a kiss.”

  “I doubt Deacon will see it that way,” Ashlyn disagreed.

  “Oh, I wish you wouldn’t tell Deacon. I don’t want to get Brad in trouble.”

  “If you ask me,” Josh said, “Brad got himself into trouble.”

  “The jerk deserves whatever he gets,” Emme agreed.

  “I for one am glad Benton was there,” Ashlyn admitted, sipping her water.

  Wishing she could change the subject and stop being the topic of conversation Andrea sighed. “Nothing happened. Benton stayed over, nothing happened there either. End of story.”

  Her friends started talking amongst themselves about Benton again.

  While Andrea understood they only wanted her to be happy, she wished they would stop asking about Benton. So he stayed the night; it meant nothing more than loyalty to Deacon and worry over her safety in respect to friendship. She remained embarrassed enough about her behavior and his discovery that she suffered from nightmares. He would tell Deacon, and her boss would press harder for her to go to a psychologist. Honestly, she thought the dreams helped her mind work through the trauma.

  If she didn’t have dreams, she would fear for her sanity.

  * * * *

  Benton stared at Deacon across the pool table. He felt like the cue pointed at him for reasons entirely different than the actual intent. Still, his friend remained quiet as he sunk the ball nearest the pocket. He slammed a few more into the goal before scratching and giving Benton a turn. Rounding the table, the driver lined himself up for the shot, cue moving into place as he stretched across the felt.

  “So,” Deacon finally said. “You stayed the night.”

  “I wondered when you would finally get around to asking. Yes, I stayed the night.”

  His boss made a non-committal sound.

  “I stayed to make sure she was okay.”

  Deacon pointed at the pool table. “You just sunk one of my balls.”

  Cursing, Benton pulled back his cue. He couldn’t concentrate today. Between not getting enough sleep and being worried about Andrea, he was losing a game he usually beat Deacon soundly at. Pool was one of the few things the Army provided to pass time. He and his entire crew got good at it; enough so that a few of them used those skills to enter tournaments when they needed money.

  “Hell, good thing we aren’t betting,” he muttered.

  “She has you that shook up, hm?”

  Benton eyed him. “I didn’t get any sleep. You try sleeping on a couch too short for your legs.”

  “No thank you. If I have to sleep on the couch, it means I did something to anger Ashlyn.”

  Wondering whether he should betray Andrea’s confidence, Benton allowed concern to win out over friendship. While he doubted she would listen to him, Deacon might be able to convince her that she should see a psychologist if he revealed the nightmares. As of right now, and as far as Andrea knew, her dreams remained a secret. If he felt guilt, it was only a twin
ge.

  “Andrea told you that she has nightmares?”

  Deacon shook his head. “Andrea doesn’t share personal things like that. She especially won’t talk about the Africans or the possibility of going to a therapist.”

  “Yeah, well, she should. You should’ve seen her when she woke up.”

  Lips thinning, his friend frowned. “I wish that she would. I worry about her. There are some days I notice she seems pale and tired.”

  “That’d be why.”

  Deacon rested on his pool stick. “I doubt Brad assaulting her is going to help.”

  “No. For all I know, that’s what she dreamed about.”

  Expression darkening, his boss continued, “Well, he won’t have a job come Monday. He’s lucky if she won’t press charges.”

  Benton shrugged. “Doubt they would care that he forced a kiss on her. Maybe if he’d hit her or something...” He trailed off, gut clenching over the thought of what could have happened.

  “Yes, well, don’t get lost down that rabbit hole, Benton. You kept worse from happening.”

  What neither of them mentioned aloud was his reasoning for being there to begin with. He couldn’t say he had a hunch that Brad would turn out to be more than simply worthless. It was more that he didn’t like the idea of Andrea going on a date at all. Not that he could claim her; not that he had the right to be bothered. He knew when he pulled Brad from her, it felt entirely too good to slam him into the wall.

  Going back to the game, Deacon slammed a ball into the pocket with more force than necessary. “If you hadn’t already given him something to think about...”

  “I don’t need to bail you out of jail, boss.”

  Deacon smirked at him. “What makes you think it would happen to begin with?”

  Benton shook his head, but he couldn’t hide the grin. “You rich people...”

  His friend laughed, not taking offense. “It has its benefits.”

  Thinking of Africa, Benton nodded, knowing he couldn’t not agree.

  Besides, his friend could claim his wealth through the efforts of his own actions. Though he came from a well-to-do family, Deacon built his empire from the ground up. One man with enough force make something from nothing was a welcome ally. And boss.

  Growing up in the Pacific Northwest, Benton always knew he wanted to go into the Army. Between school and his friends, he rarely spent time at home. His mother worked two jobs and his father came around only when he needed something. He frequently wondered why his mother put up with that, but now being an adult, he could see it was a misguided sense of love and fear of attracting nothing better. Which proved to be a shame. Renee Grant worked herself to death.

  Jack Grant drifted now, a degenerate gambler and known alcoholic. Somehow, when he ran low on money, he found Benton. It didn’t matter where he was stationed or where he lived when he took his discharge. The only time he escaped the man was overseas. Considering the mess there, he couldn’t exactly call it an escape.

  A few months passed since the last visit. He expected to see the old man any day soon. And because it was his father, he knew he would give him the money.

  Annoyed with himself, he knocked two balls into the pocket in quick succession.

  “Nice,” Deacon complimented.

  “That’s all I got, boss. Looks like you’re winning this one.”

  “One for the record books.”

  It went down as the worst game he ever played.

  “Heard from one of my guys last night,” he said. “Kaahin’s men are proving difficult, but they found a few more. Seems like most of them are scattering without the boss. I don’t think we’ll see any more trouble there.”

  “That’s good. I’m not sure if I can relax yet, though,” Deacon admitted.

  Benton shrugged. “Nothing wrong with that. It’s what you got me and Ryan for.”

  “If you begin to feel overworked, Benton, hire a few more.”

  “I might.”

  “I trust you. Now, let’s try our luck at darts.”

  Considering how well pool went, Benton doubted he would fare much better with darts.

  Chapter Six

  Heavy, thick clouds sprawled across the sky, threatening rain in the dark shadows of their curves. Peering out the window, Andrea watched the first fat drops hit the glass. The cab pulled up in front of Cross Enterprises. Reaching for her purse on the seat, she paid the driver and braced herself for the onslaught of wind. Its icy fingers grasped at her, weaving their way through the wool and cooling her skin to the bone. December at its finest in Seattle.

  Clad in a dark pencil skirt and demure white blouse beneath her coat, she followed the click of her heels into the building. The rush of warmth was welcoming. She greeted the guards at the front and hurried across the marble to the elevators. Answering various ‘good mornings’, she returned the wave of the front receptionist. Kris looked the part of a blond princess, but she was far from it.

  She joined the others in the car, noting the general quiet of Monday mornings and the wafting scent of coffee filling the small place. Nearly every hand gripped one. Between the colder weather and recovery from the weekend, she knew they probably needed it. By Wednesday the usual chatter would resume as people discussed the week at work and their plans for the next weekend.

  She was the last to get off at the top floor.

  Stowing away her coat in the closet, she carried her purse to her desk and fired up her computer. A fresh vase of flowers sat on the corner, and she admired the roses amidst the carnations. Looking around at the warm burgundy of the walls and the soft browns of the furniture, she felt bundled far away from the weather outside. A quick glance out the window in the small room beside her office told her the gloom had yet to lift.

  Flipping the industrial coffee pot on, she poured water into the base and added grounds. Already delivered, were platters of pastries for guests, and two fruit baskets. The fridge came well stocked with bottled water, soda and cold cuts. Next to the coffee pot, a juice machine hummed quietly. Standing on her tiptoes, she noted it remained full. Those little elves that sneaked in early in the morning kept things running; she was appreciative of them.

  Behind her, she heard the scuff of feet on the carpet. Deacon appeared, pea coat draped over his arm. Polished and appearing well awake, her boss smiled and reached into the fridge for a water. The tall, lean lines of his body were clad in a charcoal gray suit that flattered him, only enhancing his handsome features. Many women in the office secretly or not-so-secretly harbored attractions to him. A few became downright fiendish when he married.

  “Good morning, Andrea.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Cross.”

  He went still a moment, eyes searching her face. She averted her gaze, pretending interest in the pastries, knowing what he looked for. After a moment, he asked her for a cup of coffee when it finished and went to his office. Expelling a breath in relief, she pressed her clammy hands to the cool counter.

  Benton confided in Deacon, she knew it. If she could have kicked the man right now, she might just do it. What happened should stay between them. Though she knew she couldn’t fault him for telling her boss about Brad. She wished the night went differently. If she was honest with herself, she knew her reason for hurrying through the lobby this morning was in the hopes of avoiding Brad. Her chest went tight at the thought of confronting him and her stomach soured at the sight of food.

  What she needed right now, was a talk with her mother. If she called Grace West and spilled all her troubles, she knew her mother would have sage advice. But she also didn’t want to talk about Benton, it made the situation more real. She didn’t want to talk about Brad either. Her parents would be angry and upset, and she didn’t want them to be either. Maybe after work she would telephone her just to talk. They still needed to finalize their plans for Christmas.

  Usually, she went home and celebrated with her parents and her brother. This year though, her brother decided to take his family some
where warm for Christmas. Her parents made noise about coming to see her. Andrea hated for them to spend their money. Both lived on a fixed, retirement income. If they truly were serious about flying here from Colorado, she wanted to pay for the tickets. The best way to do that, was pay for them, mail them and let it be a surprise. Otherwise, they would refuse.

  Fixing Deacon his cup of coffee, she put it quietly on the desk while he conducted business on the phone. He nodded and saluted her with the cup as a way of thanks. Back at her computer, she researched airline tickets while drinking her own cup of the rich, dark brew. With her caramel creamer, it was delicious coffee. Deacon certainly did not scrimp.