Page 8 of Between Love and Honor

Ben shook his head. He didn’t need Cinderella’s name.

He already had it. Not to mention her date of birth, her mother’s maiden name, and her current address. He’d been tracking the woman for years. Thirteen to be precise. Ever since the night she’d made a fool of him in high school.

“Wait.” Adam slammed his boots back to the floor and leaned toward one of the monitors. “She looks very familiar in that picture.”

“No. She doesn’t. She was the date of Griffin’s person of interest. Nothing more. And I’ve got work to do, so beat it.” Ben wanted Adam gone before he figured things out.

“No. I swear I’ve seen her before,” Adam argued.

“Whoa! That’s the babe on your screen saver. Well I’ll be damned. She is a real person and not some fantasy woman you’re building in a lab somewhere.”

Too late. Ben flipped him off.

Adam laughed. “Me thinks you doth protest too much.”

Ben jumped from his chair and began to circle the room.

“Who is she Bennett?”

Adam’s quietly asked question made Ben halt his frantic pacing. Heaving a sigh, he rested a hip on the corner of his desk. His eyes landed on one of the still videos depicting Quinn smiling in wonderment at Alexi Ronoff as they entered the White House. Memories of her gifting him with that same tender smile made his chest constrict.

Had she ever really meant it? Or had he been played in the worst way possible?

Despite being a whiz at unearthing information others couldn’t find, everything he’d been able to track down about her was superficial. While every other woman on the planet was flaunting her life on social media, Quinn’s electronic footprint consisted of a simple business page for her photography business. No school records. No traffic tickets, hell, he couldn’t even find a freaking dental record for her. It was as if she was an apparition.

Except she’d been very real last night. The moment his fingers brushed against her skin he’d felt shock waves reverberate through his body. Her quick gasp at the contact told him she felt it too. Still.

He forced the emotion from his throat. “Her name is Quinn Darby. She’s a photographer to the rich and famous. Judging by who she attended last night’s dinner with, she doesn’t care how clean the money they pay her with is.”

“Let me rephrase. Who is she to you?”

A harsh laugh escaped Ben’s throat before he could pull it back. “She used to be everything to me.” It was the first time he’d ever admitted that out loud. He shook his head.

“But I was young and stupid then. I know better now.”

“Talk to me, Bennett.”

He made his way to the sofa on the other side of the room and slid down into the soft leather. “It’s your typical story. Exotic girl moves into a small town. Geeky high-schooler makes a fool out of himself over her. She leads him on before eventually ghosting him the night of the prom. He ends up as the laughingstock of everyone in town.”

“You’re too smart to let that happen.”

Leaning his head against the back of the sofa, Ben closed his eyes. “Just because I have a superior intellect doesn’t mean I can’t be a fool.”

And he had been. From the moment Quinn Darby arrived in Watertown, with her long tan legs, her lush cinnamon lashes, and her sultry British accent, he had been captivated by her. Of course, so had every other male in town between the ages of five and ninety-five.

“We were lab partners in chemistry.” He laughed at the irony. “Apparently, I was the only one who thought the chemistry was real.”

“Did you ever find out why she stood you up for the prom?”

“Isn’t it obvious? She wanted to humiliate me.”

And humiliate him she did. By mutual agreement, he and Quinn kept their budding relationship quiet. Ben did so because he didn’t want to tempt fate or whatever gods had prompted her to look at him twice. He thought she’d felt the same. That what they shared was unique and fragile and too special to broadcast to anyone else. Then, when she’d agreed to attend the prom with him, his ego took hold and he went caveman, bragging to anyone who’d listen. Right up to the night she’d blindsided him.

For years, he grappled with the particular puzzle of why. Mostly because every time he ventured back home to Watertown some asshole brought it up. Nothing ever blew over in a small town. He wished they’d all forget. He wished he could forget. But, try as he might, he couldn’t erase the memory of that fateful night.

When no one answered the door the evening of the prom, he’d called the sheriff’s office. His grandfather, a deputy with thirty years on the force, arrived in his cruiser five minutes later. He could still see the pity in the old man’s eyes. No one really believed the wealthy beauty would consent to attending the prom with a nerd like Ben.

“Face it, son,” his no-nonsense grandfather said after they knocked on every door of the house to no avail. “She got a better offer. They probably jetted off to the islands for the long Memorial Day weekend.”

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