At the next light he turned right, and then left, down a short road adjacent to a large building. There was nothing overly spectacular about it, except for the lack of windows. “This is the church?”
Ben chuckled. “It’s nondenominational and that particular building is the sanctuary.”
At her quizzical look he explained. “The sanctuary is where they hold the service and worship. What you’re seeing is the back and side of the main building. The front actually faces the courtyard.”
He moved through a large parking lot and stopped near twin sets of glass double doors. Even now Willow would never have guessed the building was a church.
“Oh.” She was a little disappointed.
Another deep chuckle. “I tell Jackie, Zan’s wife whom you met last night at Tess’s shower, that the building needs some pizzaz. But she says it’s not how the outside looks that’s important. It’s what makes up the inside.”
Willow made a noncommittal response as she scanned several other smaller buildings. “You go?”
“Ah. I have. It’s been a while.”
“Me too.” Willow murmured. “I used to until Mom realized I had an interest and some talent in dance. Then my weekends became too crazy. Dad still goes. At least, he used to.”
Ben reached out and twined his fingers with hers, resting their hands on her left thigh. “I’m sure he still does. What about your mom?”
Her fingers flexed. “She’s dead.”
“Ah hell, Will. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
She turned her head and studied his face, not finding it a hardship in the least. The man was breathtakingly handsome and those gorgeous eyes of his always seemed to be lit with something, whether humor, curiosity, heat, or like now, sympathy. His masculinity and sex appeal was simply icing on the cake.
“Don’t be sorry, Ben. You didn’t know.” She squeezed his hand once, then lifted it purposely to the middle of the bench seat, untangling their fingers. Returning her gaze back to the nondescript building, and, unable to hide the hurt, said, “Besides, my mother was a selfish woman who was never pleased and ended up drinking herself to death.”
Chapter Twelve
His soft sigh filled the cab of the truck, his scent a dark and decadent treat. “Methinks you have mommy issues.”
She choked out a laugh that sounded more like a sob and went absolutely still.
His hands were gentle but inexorable as he pulled her around to face him. “I think”—he trailed one finger down her nose to her mouth, his eyes holding a fierce light when she parted her lips—“it’s time for Willow to be pleased.”
Her heart was so loud in her ears at the sensual remark that it might as well be pounding outside her chest.
His teeth flashed in his face, a happy grin that confused her. “Perfect timing.” Then he was gone.
She’d been unconsciously leaning toward him, and would have fallen face first on the place his butt had been only a nanosecond ago if her seat belt hadn’t caught her. Grumbling at Ben’s strange exit, she barely clicked the clasp free when he opened her door.
“The first phase of pleasing Willow. Join me, won’t you?”
Startled, she gave him a wide-eyed stare. “Here?”
“Definitely. Don’t you hear it?”
Now that she was breathing a little easier, she realized it hadn’t been her heart thudding in her ears. It was the music from inside the church.
She shot him a suspicious glance. “What’s going on?”
“Sounds like music to me.” He reached for the ladder, holding it easily in one hand, and reached for hers with the other.
“Hmmm.” But she got out and shut her door, accepting Ben’s wiggling fingers.
He led her to one of the glass doors, releasing her hand to open the door for her before she could do so.
Who said chivalry was dead?
Inside they crossed a brightly lit foyer and into another set of doors where Ben stopped to lay the ladder against an inner wall. Willow shrugged off her coat, which Ben took from her, and peered around the dim interior. It was a large space, lined with chairs in long, neat rows from the back of the room to within several feet of the stage at the front. A stage where a woman was dancing.
Ben tugged her forward. “That’s Rose,” he whispered in her ear.
Moments later, two girls stepped out. All three were dressed in long, airy pants and matching tops. The effect was feminine and graceful, their smooth movements only adding to the beauty of the display. Rose’s long white hair floated and spun like a banner as she twirled, her timeless face marked with joy as she lifted her arms high. The younger girls, probably in their early teens, didn’t have quite the grace as the older woman, but Willow saw what was most important. Their love for dancing.