The Stillness Of You(5)

Except for the moment, Matt controlled my money because I was the crazy   girl. The crazy girl who had fucked and partied her way through more   guys and nights than she could count. The crazy girl who had given up on   everything except whatever could make the noise stop or the slow down   the fast parts inside her. The crazy girl who had tried to kill  herself.

"All in the past," I murmured.

Ben was still sleeping when I left for my run, his tall body not exactly   a fit for the queen size pullout. The door to the office was wide open   and I couldn't, not peek. The guy wore boxers to bed and as I took an   extra second or two to appreciate the curve of his ass, I wondered if   the boxers were just for our benefit. He totally seemed like the kind of   guy who slept naked.

Naked Ben. How delicious.

Outside the morning was fresh and as I popped in my ear buds, I knew it   was going to be one hell of a hot one. But this time, this twilight   before dawn, was the best time to run. It was quiet. Peaceful.

And for the moment my mind was silent.

I ran for nearly forty-five minutes and by the time I made it back to   the loft, the first rays of sunlight crept across the horizon.

I waved to our doorman Joe, bypassed the elevator and didn't stop   running until I stood in front of the fridge and rooted around for the   orange juice, which I confiscated and finished in several long, gulps. I   closed the door and backed away.

And promptly came into contact with something warm and hard and very male.

My first thought was, holy shit Ben Lancaster felt great.

My second thought was that he smelled amazing, like mint and pine rolled together.

My third thought was that I hoped he was wearing something more than the   boxers I'd seen him in earlier. Because I was pretty sure that Ben and   me and his boxers wasn't exactly what my brother had in mind when he'd   left an hour ago.

"Sorry." His breath was warm at my neck and, wait, was that his hand on my hip? "I didn't mean to crowd you."

I was willing to bet he wasn't sorry at all and I was fine with that.

He had morning voice-that husky tone somewhere between sleep and awake.   It had been a long time since I'd been anywhere near morning voice. It   had been a long time since I'd been anywhere near a warm body, and I   closed my eyes, willing time to stop for just a few moments. The   sensation was that freaking amazing.

But then reality hit. I thought of Matt and gave myself a mental smack   down. He'd only been gone for just over an hour and already I was   fantasizing about how awesome his hockey player felt pressed up against   my butt.

I needed to shut that shit down right away.

I sidestepped and took a peek. Track pants. Okay, this was good.

"You just back in from a run?"

"Yep." I tossed the empty carton into the garbage under the sink and turned around so that I could see him properly.

Holy fuck. Ben Lancaster was something to behold in the morning. The   shadows on his jaw and chin were much more pronounced than the evening   before. I liked that. I liked stubble on a guy. His hair waved crazily   and his hooded eyes were sexy as a slow grin spread across his mouth.                       
       
           



       

He was bare-chested, but then again, if I was a guy and I looked like   that I wouldn't be covering up either. And he was cut, but not overly   beefed up like some of the guys I'd seen and the tattoo on his left   bicep was yummy. I had a weakness for long hair and tattoos and it   wasn't fair to find all of that right here in my kitchen.

Not when it belonged to someone I'd been warned away from.

I was grateful he still wore boxers, because his track pants hung way   too low on his hips and if not for the boxers I was sure I'd be staring   at more than I should be staring at.

I exhaled and looked down.

His feet were bare. Shit. There was something about a guy in bare feet   that I adored. I don't have a fetish or anything but still, I found it   hot. Could I not find something crappy about him? A wart? An extra   appendage like a finger or a toe? A third nipple?

His eyes were as dark as melted chocolate and at the moment they were focused on me with an intensity that told me a few things.

It told me he was interested. It told me that Ben wasn't afraid of my   brother and his warnings and the over protective posturing he'd pulled   the night before.

Perversely, I liked that. It meant he wasn't a wimp. It meant that he   was the kind of guy who took what he wanted and if I was reading the   signals correctly, at this exact moment in time he wanted me.

Except he didn't know the real me. The one who existed behind the medication. Behind the diagnosis.

The one who was bipolar. The slut. The train wreck. The one who was damaged goods.

I took a step back. I was pretty sure if he knew all my dirty little   secrets he'd run the other way. Not that I would blame him, hell, it's   what I would do. Life was complicated enough without adding someone like   me into the mix.

His eyes slowly moved from mine, downward. I knew my T-shirt was damp   and I knew that it clung to my breasts. I also knew that my nipples were   now pebbled and hard and that they were the reason his grin widened   ever so slightly.

"Lancaster," I said clearly. "Above the chest, okay?"

He took his time, but eventually honored my request.

"I'm going to take a shower and then we'll have a look at the properties   on your list. If we can, we'll get to all of them today."

"Sounds good," he answered.

I moved away and was halfway down the hall when he said, so softly that I   nearly missed it, "Let me know if you need help in there."

"I'm a big girl, Ben. I can handle it."

He just laughed, but his laughter followed me all the way into the   shower and not even the hot spray could wipe away his morning voice. Or   his sexy eyes.

Or those damn boxers.





Chapter Five





Ben





Georgia King was different from any girl I had ever met. We'd spent most   of the day together and I still couldn't figure out what it was that   made her special, and after I while I stopped thinking about it. What   was the point?

She just was.

She was smart and she made me laugh. She liked the San Francisco Giants,   hated American Idol (though she admitted to a weird crush on Simon and   was glad he'd left for X-factor), and was a big fan of Georges St.   Pierre the UFC fighter. Most girls I knew had no idea who that guy was   and I was impressed.

And she was gorgeous. The eyes, the long hair, the petite and graceful   body. Hell, she stood beside me in line waiting for an ice-cream and I   felt like a fucking giant.

I kinda liked that.

Somewhere between the property we just looked at, and the last one on   our list, we stopped for ice cream at a little hole-in-the-wall kind of   place just off the road. A hole-in-the-wall yes, but it was obviously   well known. The lineup was impressive, but Georgia wanted a   chocolate-chunk-peanut butter cone and I wasn't about to deny her the   pleasure.

Besides, what was sexier than a girl with an ice-cream cone between her lips?

"So, do you go to college?" I was curious and thought of her paintings.   "Do you study art?" I wanted to know more than just her likes and   dislikes. I wanted to know what made her tick. I wanted to know why the   faces hidden in her abstract paintings were sad. Actually, they were   kind of creepy with their abnormally large eyes and mouths that hung   open as if they were frozen in a perpetual scream.

I knew it was art, but still …

I wanted to know why she was living with her brother when clearly, it   was a new thing. Was it a bad break up? Had some guy broken her heart?   Or had she done the honors?

She deflected with a question of her own and it wasn't until we were   back in my rental that I realized she'd never answered me. She cranked   the tunes as we headed to our last drive-by, a place in Haddonfield, New   Jersey and I wasn't able to ask her anything more.                       
       
           



       

The house wasn't as rural as I was hoping for but it was on nearly four   acres of land and the listing said at 1.5 million it was a bargain.   Built in the 1930's it had been empty for a year or so and the property   needed some work.

As soon as I saw it, I knew it was for me.

Set back among a stand of trees, it was Colonial brick with a detached   four car garage and even though it had a general look of abandonment, I   saw the potential.