Page 50 of Blame It On Midnight

“You drank all the soda, didn’t you?” he asked, pouring her a glass of water from the pitcher.

She opened her mouth to deny it, but Benton raised his eyebrows and her face fell. “It was so good and I got busy with Hero and I forgot that I was only supposed to have half of it.”

“Drink your water. We need to dilute all the sugar in your body.”

“Can I still have dessert?”

“There’s dessert?” Collins piped in, happily.

“Not only did Rosie leave her famous oatmeal cookies, she left an apple pie in the oven.”

By the time they had dessert and brought the dishes inside, and then cleaned up, it was pushing eight o’clock. He sent Nora up to her room with instructions to have a shower and that he’d be up in twenty minutes to put her to bed.

“Use an extra handful of conditioner,” he yelled up the stairs. When he returned to the kitchen, he found Collins wrapping up the last bit of pie and putting it in the fridge. She turned around and faced him.

“You’re such a good dad.” There was no flattery on her face. She was speaking what she felt.

“Nora makes it easy.”

Collins wandered over to him. “Do you know what’s sexy about a man who loves his child like that?” She stood in front of him. Tilted her head for, and he got a proper look at the mouth that had been driving him crazy all night.

“No,” he managed to say before she got up on her tiptoes.

“Everything,” She whispered against his mouth and swept her lips across his, the touch barely a whisper. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

Benton didn’t answer. He grabbed her close, slid his hands down her body. His mouth up along her neck. He kissed and nibbled his way up her jawline, then cupped her head between his hands. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he muttered, eyes on her mouth. “Stay the night?”

Benton didn’t have time to wonder if he’d somehow crossed an invisible line that he shouldn’t have because she answered right away.

“Yes.”

Chest heaving. Mind filled with pictures of all the things he was going to do to her, Benton backed away. “I need to get Nora to bed.”

“You do that, cowboy. Then come find me.”

He held her gaze a moment longer, then headed upstairs, smiling to himself when he heard her steps behind him. He took a right toward Nora’s bedroom, and she headed left.

He knew where to find her.

Chapter Seventeen

Benton’s bedroom was the last door at the end of the hall. Collins knew this because the previous Christmas she’d done some snooping. Not because she was a creep or anything, but because she was curious about the man who, with one look, had taken her breath away. She’d been nervous—Collins, the woman who could strut the catwalk wearing next to nothing—and her kneejerk reaction had been to hide. Hiding led to exploration.

Back then, she knew this man was going to be a part of her life—she didn’t know how exactly, but it made her want to know more.

She walked into his room and closed her eyes. It smelled like Benton. Fresh body wash from the shower. His shampoo. That earthy scent that was incredibly male and all his. Her heart sped up.

Exhale. Slowdown.

Collins wandered the large room. It was simple, really. And neat. A large four-poster bed, which looked to be at least a king-size mattress, stood between two large windows. The bedding was navy, and only one extra pillow to be seen. The furniture was antique, and most likely had been in the family for years. Generations probably. There was a fireplace and a sitting area across from the bed. Two more large bay windows that looked out at the barns and outbuildings, and beyond those, the mountains. The floors were wood and well-worn and scattered with colorful area rugs. There was a large painting of a cow with immense horns. It hung over the fireplace, and she spied a portrait of Cal on stage at the Opry shoved up against a wall near the bathroom. Two walk-in closets, one full of Benton’s clothes, including a shelf of hats, the other nearly empty save for a couple of frilly dresses that had to belong to Nora.

It was not cutting-edge décor, or put together with all that much thought, but it was comfortable and safe and solid. It was Benton. She crossed the room and turned the portrait of Cal so that it faced the wall. No way was she getting naked with him looking on.

Slowly, she began to unbutton her blouse. She tossed it onto the chair, then stepped out of her jeans. The throb between her legs was intense, and she grimaced as she pulled off the pink thong and matching bra. They joined her clothes. Her nipples were erect, her breasts swollen, and she slipped her hand between her legs. Warm. Soft. Wet.

She was ready.

Collins smiled. She had plans, though.

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