Wonders Never Cease (Harlequin Super Romance) Read online

  A gravelly “meow” reverberated across the tops of her cat-warmed thighs. “Frank,” she said, picking up the glossy-coated black cat. “Is it chow time, kiddo? I’d better feed you before I get ready for my date.”

  The idea of walking into the gala on Ben’s arm left her a little giddy. Too bad she couldn’t get involved with him on a personal level. Everyone knew cops and reporters didn’t mix.

  “Did I tell you about my choice of escort?” she asked, scratching behind Frank’s left ear. “Almost as hunky as his dog.”

  Frank leaped from her arms and stalked off—tail stiff.

  As Jill followed the cat downstairs, she thought about the reasons she and Ben shouldn’t develop any kind of relationship.

  One, she needed proof that Dorry was just avoiding her—not hiding out because of some threat. Two, she had to figure out if somebody at the Sentinel was purposely sabotaging her work, or—as Will suggested—if her imagination was blowing things out of proportion. Third was the Excelsior investigation itself. She planned to get to the bottom of that even if she had to dig her own soil samples. No, it probably wasn’t a good idea to seduce the guy they’d send to arrest her for trespassing.

  BEN SCOWLED at his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he fiddled with the tiny, pearl-shaped button at the base of his throat. How did I let her talk me into this?

  The clerk at the tuxedo shop had been about twenty-five, as perky and shapely as a Dallas Cowboy cheerleader and very good at her job. By the time Ben had left, he’d spent just under a hundred bucks.

  A noise, he could have sworn it was a chuckle, made him glance down. “What are you looking at?”

  Czar eyed him speculatively from the doorway of the bathroom, his front paws framed by the squares of white tile. His haunches rested on the gleaming hardwood floor that Ben had painstakingly refinished right after moving into the house. He’d been overjoyed to discover oak flooring beneath the wall-to-wall olive-green carpet. As Joely had predicted, Czar’s nails left scratches, but three Oriental carpet runners helped, and Ben still smiled every time he walked across his floor.

  “You can stop begging. I already told you you can’t go. She insisted on driving.”

  The topic of whose car to take had been a matter of hot debate when Jill called that morning to reconfirm their date. For a woman who exudes self-confidence, she sure is insecure, he thought. It was that contradiction that had made him cave on the issue of who would drive.

  Czar’s bark startled Ben, causing his fingers to undo the tricky button he’d just barely gotten closed. Tractionless on the wood, Czar’s nails sounded like hail on a metal roof as he raced off, apparently responding to the sound of a car pulling into the driveway.

  Ben glanced at his watch. “At least that Time God of hers keeps her punctual.”

  He leaned closer to the mirror, twisting the fabric of his shirt until he was sure it would rip. He hated to think how much that would cost.

  “Damn,” he said when the doorbell chimed.

  Ben left the button undone and hurried down the hall; he unlocked the dead bolt and turned the knob, bracing himself for the worst. He hoped—almost prayed—that she wasn’t as beautiful as he feared she’d be.

  There was no screen door to dilute her effect. Long slanted rays of sunlight shimmered on her floor-length gown of amber satin. Simply designed, the dress escaped being classified as a sultry nightgown thanks to two rhinestone straps that twinkled through the strands of golden waves cascading around her shoulders.

  Gorgeous. Worse than he’d imagined. Ben was grateful he hadn’t been able to get his collar buttoned because he never would have been able to swallow the lump in his throat.

  “Hello,” she said, smiling up at him. She must have been wearing flat slippers because she seemed smaller, more delicate than he remembered. She had her hands tucked behind her. The ingenuous pose called attention to the shape of her breasts pressed against the fabric of the dress.

  She stared back as if seeing him for the first time. Suddenly she blinked and whipped her hands around, holding something out to him.

  “For you. For going with me. I truly appreciate it,” she said, offering him a boutonniere in a plastic box.

  Her words were spoken softly, almost apologetically, as if she regretted putting him through this torture. Did she know he was feeling tormented by her beauty? Did it show on his face?

  Ben looked at the sprig of baby tears—waxy white blossoms that appeared artificially perfect against a too-green leaf.

  Elegant. Classy.

  “I think so, too,” she said. “Much nicer than roses or God forbid, carnations. That’s what girls always gave guys on prom night, remember?”

  Ben realized he must have spoken the words out loud. He took an involuntary step backward. Focus, he ordered himself. His training had never failed him in the past. It had carried him safely through all sorts of life-threatening jams. He was a master at focus.

  But for some reason, his gaze kept getting sidetracked by creamy shoulders dusted with freckles from summers past. Smooth skin that invited touch. As he watched, a cool gust made the hair follicles on her arms prickle.

  “May I come in? Or are you ready to go? It’s a little chilly in this dress.” Her tone was wry. “I thought about black velvet, but Mattie’s Rule Twenty-one is never wear white before Easter or velvet before Thanksgiving.”

  “How many rules are there?” he asked, stepping aside.

  “I’ve always been afraid to ask.”

  Her nonchalance helped him wrangle his emotions under control while she petted Czar. “I’ll be ready in a sec. One last button.”

  He’d taken two steps toward the hall when she said, “You look very dashing. Like a movie star getting ready to accept his Oscar.”

  Her tone more than made up for the cost of the tux. “Thanks. So do you.” He was terrible with compliments—both the giving and the receiving. He hurried away.

  When he returned a minute later, Jill was standing in the door of his living room, Czar at her side. Her fingers, thin and delicate-looking, tipped with a pearlized gloss, ruffed Czar’s thick fur. He arched his neck to give her a better field; Ben would have done the same thing.

  “Be careful. He sheds.”

  She pivoted, whisking hairs from her fingertips. “So does my cat, Frank. It’s just something you live with if you like animals.”

  He was about to reach for the boutonniere, which she’d set on the table near the door, when she cleared her throat. Ben waited, knowing something was coming, and by the look on her forehead it wasn’t good.

  “I told you about the purpose of tonight’s gala,” she said.

  He nodded. “The Excelsior Estates development. I asked around, and I get the impression the community is about fifty-fifty, for and against.”

  She nodded. “You won’t hear anything but acclamation tonight.”

  Ben was fascinated by the play of emotions he read in her expressive face. “Do you expect your presence to be a problem?”

  A stain of red colored her cheeks. “Of course not. I’m small time, not worthy of notice. It’s just that…”

  He bit back a smile; she had that little-girl look again. She took a deep breath, drawing his gaze to the swell of shimmering satin. His hand cupped reflexively.

  “I think I may have invited you for the wrong reasons, and Penny says I owe you an apology.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Well, you would if you were a woman whose ex-husband and his gorgeous new wife were hosting a party and you had the choice of showing up alone or bringing along someone who looks like…you.” Her hand waved up and down, followed by her gaze, Ben wasn’t sure whether to preen or be pissed.

  Before he could make up his mind, she turned sideways, displaying a provocative dip of folded satin from shoulder to midback. Her smooth pale skin practically begged to be caressed. He took a step closer.

  “I know that sounds awful. Penny called it reverse sexism.�
�� She looked at him. “It’s shallow and petty and I’m a terrible person for even thinking it, but just look at you in that tux.” Her hand reached out and skimmed the surface of his jacket sleeve, much the way she petted Czar. “I knew you’d be gorgeous, and I just couldn’t resist the thought of showing up with you on my arm.”

  She clapped her hand over her mouth. Lifting up the hand, she mumbled, “I had no idea how ludicrous that would sound until I said it out loud. If you’d have said that to me, I’d have decked you.”

  She cringed a little, keeping an eye on Ben, who couldn’t quite decide how he felt about being a sex object.

  “I’m a sexist pig. I’m sorry.”

  Ben fought to keep from smiling. One part of him, a kid he almost didn’t recognize, decided to have fun with the situation. He dropped his chin and shook his head woefully. “I feel so used.”

  She flew to his aid, patting his arm. “Don’t say that. I mean, it’s not as if I don’t find you attractive. I do. Obviously, I do.”

  “But you’re just attracted to my body.” Ben could barely say the words without laughing. They came out strangled, as if he might cry.

  “Well…yes, but I’m sure you have a very nice mind, too. We really haven’t had much of a chance to talk…” Her words trailed off and she looked at him suspiciously. “You’re laughing, aren’t you? I’m baring my soul here and you’re laughing.”

  Ben let go of his mirth—at ease for the first time in days. Maybe months. “I apologize. I couldn’t resist. You were so earnest.”

  She looked both stunned and sheepish. “I get that way. Mattie—my mother—says I can’t see the forest past my knees.”

  Catching Ben’s look of confusion, she added, “I think she means I’m so busy worrying about my own problems I trample over everyone else’s.”

  Her gaze met his. The last rays of sun slipping through the patio doors made her eyes a rich blend of golds and browns. An image of her lying naked in a pile of autumn leaves took his breath away.

  “How about we put all this behind us and go on our date?” She picked up the plastic flower box—a peace offering.

  “I think I can handle it.”

  AS THEY PASSED through the rock-and-timber entrance to the Ahwahnee Hotel’s great hall, Jill swallowed the lump in her throat. Ben moved with all the assurance and grace of a man in control of his life, and she couldn’t help wanting to stay close to him—hoping that some of his confidence might rub off on her.

  “The steward said the reception is being held in the Mural Room,” Ben said, guiding her toward the right with a light touch at the base of her spine. An hour in the intimate shell of her sports car had intensified—to the point of over-kill—the attraction she felt for him. Even their tongue-in-cheek debate over the merits of Ricky Martin’s music only added to his charisma.

  She slowed her pace, content to enjoy the moment. The touch. His amazing good looks.

  As if sensing her stare, Ben glanced sideways. His dark eyes were inscrutable but not intimidating. He looked…interested. “It’s getting late. Won’t your Time God be mad?”

  His gentle teasing was kind, not mean-spirited as Peter’s had been at the end. Before she could answer him, a voice said, “Hello, Jill. What a pleasure to see a familiar face.”

  Jill pivoted. Her heart slowly went back to its normal cadence when she realized the person addressing her was Mona Francis, the mayor’s wife.

  “Hi, Mona,” Jill said, giving her a friendly hug. “My, you look lovely tonight. Have you lost weight?”

  A diminutive woman of Italian descent, Mona embraced life—and pasta—with gusto. Her wide, pleasant grin made her still-beautiful skin light up. “Not an ounce, you flatterer, but I appreciate the lie. Wouldn’t it be nice if I could give you a few extra pounds? She’s too thin, don’t you think?”

  Mona looked at Ben expectantly. Jill could read the appreciative gleam in the older woman’s eye, much the way an art lover might view a Picasso or Monet. Mona was a politician’s wife, but she’d somehow remained untainted by the more sordid aspects of the game.

  Jill took Ben off the hook. She swatted Mona’s arm lightly. “You’re worse than my mother, Mona. Putting my poor date on the spot like that.” She took a quick breath then made introductions. Mona’s dark brown eyes widened when Jill mentioned Ben’s profession. She was a dear lady, but she liked to gossip as well as anyone.

  “Bud mentioned your program the other day. Is your dog here?”

  Ben shook Mona’s hand with solemn formality, then told her, “No, ma’am. There wasn’t room in the car. Jill drove.”

  “Oh, of course. Bud pointed out your car in the parking lot. He’s quite a car aficionado—always poking under the hood.”

  “Speaking of the devil,” Jill said, looking over her shoulder, “where is our esteemed mayor?” Jill wasn’t looking forward to seeing Bud Francis any more than she was Peter and Clarice.

  For the first time Mona looked uncomfortable. “He’s taking a little nap in the car. He played an extra round of golf today and needed a quick rest to be at his best.” Jill interpreted that to mean he needed to snooze off a little booze. “This is very important to the community,” Mona said, “and you know how seriously Bud takes his duties.”

  Jill had several rather strong opinions about Bud’s work ethic, but in deference to his wife, whom Jill really liked, she kept them to herself. “We were just about to go in, Mona. Would you like to join us?”

  “Why, thank you, dear. I always hate to walk into a room alone. I’ll know a dozen people the minute I get inside, but I just hate that first moment of strangeness, when you think everyone is looking at you.” She motioned for Ben to come to her. “Perhaps I could borrow your date for a minute or two, Jill. If I walk in with him, that ought to get the gossipmongers’ jaws flapping. What do you say, young man?”

  Ben smiled graciously. “My pleasure.”

  Mona had to reach up to poke her hand through the offered crook in his arm, but she looked as pleased as a girl going to the prom. Jill used the moment to admire her date from behind. His long legs looked absolutely fabulous in the black tux; the material sculpted his broad shoulders then tapered to a snug wrap around his hips. Peter used to complain that tuxedos made all men look alike—obviously he’d never seen Ben Jacobs in a tux.

  But he was about to.

  “Jill,” Ben said, offering her his other arm. “Two beautiful women to escort. How lucky can one guy get?”

  Once inside, Mona gave Jill a quick hug then left to join two friends who hailed her. Jill scanned the room—no Peter in sight. She breathed a sigh of relief until she looked up to find Ben studying her.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.

  They were standing near a glass display case honoring the basketry of the Miwok Indians, who’d been very nearly exterminated by the zealous pioneers who settled in this area. She found it ironic that Land Barons would choose such a setting to flaunt its latest acquisition.

  “Sure. Why not?” The intensity of his gaze made her blush. “So I’m not a great liar, but I’ll be okay. I just have to stay focused on the subject at hand. My personal life is old news, Excelsior Estates is where the action is.” She passed him one of the slim, colorful brochures she’d grabbed on the way in. “Here. With your hands full, you didn’t have a chance to pick one up.”

  He tucked it inside his jacket, his eyes never leaving her face. “Being a reporter is important to you, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “Yes. My job is meaningful, when it’s done right.” She inwardly cringed recalling the flubbed-up obituary. “But tonight I really have to succeed. I have something to prove.”

  His questioning look made her explain.

  “Peter didn’t want me to work. Period. When we were first married, I devoted myself to being a perfect wife and helping him succeed in the company, but there came a point when that wasn’t enough. I tried freelance writing for magazines, but it was tough to get established
because we moved so often. My financial dependence reinforced Peter’s opinion that he was doing me a favor by staying married to me.” She raised her chin defiantly. “I have to show him that I can provide for myself. That I’m a whole person, even without him.”

  Her words came out a little louder than planned, and Jill glanced around to see if anyone was eavesdropping. Most of the thirty or so people present were gathered around a ten-by-twenty-foot topographic relief map in a glass case. She looked at Ben to suggest they check it out, but when her gaze met his, her mind lost track of all incoming messages.

  Dark and intense, his eyes seemed to envelop her. She couldn’t remember ever being on the receiving end of such a sexy look; it made her mouth go dry and her knees tremble.

  “Only an idiot would think you were less than whole,” he said, his voice low and for her ears only. Jill wondered momentarily if he’d meant to say the words aloud, because he suddenly lifted his chin and looked away.

  Jill swallowed, not knowing what to say or how to get her brain back on track.

  “Jillian,” a familiar voice called, breaking her out of her trance. “They let anybody into these things, don’t they?” The sniping tone was mitigated by a little chuckle. “Did you get your car fixed? It looked like you were having some trouble with it the other night.”

  Jill turned and took a step back, inadvertently moving into Ben—a very warm, solid fortress. His proximity eased the sudden flutter in her heart, although it was too late to stop the release of acid in her stomach.

  “Hello, Peter,” Jill said, taking in her ex-husband’s new look.

  His artfully streaked hair and tanning-salon-perfect skin tone gave him a healthy, all-American look that hinted of crewing on the Potomac. Normally, such GQ polish would have worked against a man where Jill was concerned, but Peter’s added little-boy-lost quality had been her downfall from the start. It had taken years to figure out what he’d lost—his soul.

  Jill saw Peter’s eyes narrow speculatively as he studied her date. Ben placed a large warm hand on Jill’s bare shoulder. She knew his gesture—whether he’d intended to make a statement or not—did not go unnoticed.