An Irresistible Impulse Read online

  “Nope. Try it.”

  “Are you saying that you swim…in addition to running?”

  “Sometimes.”

  In the silence that ensued, they looked at each other intently. Just then, Abby knew she’d missed him—missed his gentleness, his warm banter…. A stirring in the courtroom signaled the end of the bench conference; the judge’s deep voice broke the spell.

  Abby couldn’t forget it though, as morning became history and they returned to the inn for lunch, then piled back into the vans to head north. Nor could she forget it when the drive took them on a tour of autumn in Vermont, and her mind filled with the same romantic thoughts Ben had once before evoked. He sat in the front seat talking with Ray; she sat in the third row behind. Still she could almost feel the thickness of his hair, the strength of the arm thrown across the back of the seat, the warmth of the lips that moved companionably. And she couldn’t help but wonder whether he’d ever kiss her again.

  Lost in a world of increasingly melancholy daydreams, she sat quietly through most of the ride, as did Patsy, who sat beside her. Beautiful as the scenery was, both women were more than happy to alight from the van when it finally pulled up at its destination.

  The hunting lodge was large and rugged. It was inviting in a down-home sort of way, a contrast both to the properly formal courthouse and to the elegantly charming inn. Its walls were of aged, rough-hewn logs, its furnishings rich and mellow. It was the perfect getaway.

  Each drawn by his own interests, the jurors quickly dispersed. Some went inside to the game room, others went directly to the lake. Still others spread out along the veranda, settling into oversized cushioned deck chairs. Abby was about to join the latter group when Ben approached. A spanking clean volleyball rested between his wrist and his hip.

  “Up for a game?” he asked. There was just enough of a challenge in his voice to counter hesitation, had he found it. But she had none. It had been a long few days of sitting for what seemed to be hours on end. Even the morning runs had barely tapped her well of pent-up energy. She was used to far more physically active days.

  “Sure,” she exclaimed. “Any other takers?”

  “Tom and Richard will be out in a minute. They’re seeing who else wants to play. I passed Patsy inside. She seemed to be looking for someone but said she may be out later. Do you think any of the other women would be interested?”

  “I’ll check. Where’s the game?”

  “Out back. In…say…ten minutes?”

  “Meet you there.” She smiled at him, feeling better than she had all day.

  The game was just what she needed. She’d only been able to con one other female into playing—tall, thin Anne Marie, whose initial shyness had eased over the past few days to reveal a woman with a streak of wry humor. And did she ever know how to serve a volleyball….

  “Where did you learn to play that way, Anne?” Abby asked, after three straight points had shocked the all-men’s team on the far side of the net.

  “I was drafted.”

  “The army?”

  Anne Marie shook her head. “Central High. It was a choice between basketball…and this. This seemed the lesser of the evils.” And she fisted the ball a fourth time. This time, though, the opposition was prepared. By the time the game finally ended many more points down the road, both sides had earned the frosty lemonade that a beaming Patsy helped serve.

  “Not bad at all,” Ben grinned, easing down onto the grass not far from Abby. While the game had been in progress, she’d been too busy to concentrate on him. Now she noted the way his hair fell in damp swaths onto his forehead and the way he’d rolled his sleeves to reveal a breathtaking strength of forearm. With his shirttails hanging out over his jeans and the heat of exertion giving added color to his already healthy complexion, he had a boyish look that pulled at her heartstrings.

  “It was fun,” she murmured breathlessly.

  “It was.…You’re a good sport.”

  “You mean that you’re glad I didn’t cry when we lost?” she teased.

  “I mean that you put up a good, clean fight. Next time you can be on my team.” He beamed.

  Abby’s insides flip-flopped madly. She’d be on Ben’s team any day, she mused, then shut her eyes to his bewitchment and lay back on the grass with an emphatic sigh. “It’s nice here, isn’t it?” The sun was a warm foil for the crisp fall air. “I could almost forget the circumstances.”

  “Tell me, Abby,” Ben asked, his voice suddenly closer. “What would you be doing on a normal Saturday?” When she opened her eyes, she found him lying on his stomach, propped on his elbows, his face inches away.

  Swallowing hard, she closed her eyes again and tried to concentrate on what she would normally have been doing. It seemed a world away. “I teach a class in the mornings, then the afternoons…well…you know…the usual lazy Saturday types of things.”

  “What kind of class?”

  “It’s a course on natural childbirth. When I first came here, I met loads of mothers who were expecting second and third children and were interested in trying it naturally. At the time there were no formal classes. Now they drive for miles to attend every week.”

  “Natural childbirth…”

  She could hear it in his voice, that pensiveness that meant he was adding another piece to the puzzle of her life. Opening her eyes, she sent him a warning he promptly ignored.

  “You believe in natural childbirth?” he asked softly.

  “I believe that it’s right for some women and that those women should have the benefit of proper preparation. For some women though, natural childbirth is all wrong.”

  “Would you want it?”

  Something about the way he looked at her made her pulsepoint throb. “I’m not really sure,” she managed to say. “It would depend, I guess.”

  “On what?”

  “On whether my…my husband wanted to be part of it. Half of its beauty is that a husband and wife work together.”

  Ben didn’t say anything, seeming lost in her eyes as she was lost in his. She could see him as that type of man, wanting to share those precious moments with his wife, and she felt a sudden wave of envy for the woman who would one day have him.

  “What…what about you, Ben?” she asked unsteadily. “What would you be doing today if you weren’t here now?”

  As if freeing himself from a trance, he blinked once and took a deep breath. “I have some Saturday morning classes too. Nothing as exciting as natural childbirth though.”

  “You’re making fun of me,” she chided.

  “I’m serious.” And he was. “There’s something much more real about what you teach. I think it’s wonderful.”

  This time Abby couldn’t look away, but was held by the silver intensity of Ben’s gaze. She felt as though she’d known him for years, as though they’d been friends first, then lovers. She felt as though he could see into her, know what she wanted in life even more than she did. She felt perfectly naked and utterly vulnerable.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” she pleaded in a whisper.

  “Why not?” He inched closer.

  “It…it makes me…uncomfortable….”

  “What if I said that I couldn’t help myself?”

  “Then I wouldn’t believe you, Benjamin Wyeth.” She groped at reality, trying to talk herself out of helplessness. “You’re a political scientist, a man of reason, not impulse.”

  He frowned endearingly. “Funny, I used to think so, too. But lately…very lately…I’ve begun to wonder. You’re a woman who inspires irrational thought.”

  “I do not—”

  “You do—the way you look at me with those big hazel eyes of yours, the way you smile and talk. Abby—”

  “Shhh! Please, Ben. Don’t talk that way.” On a burst of resolve, she tried to roll away but he put a hand on her far side and stopped her. “This is crazy,” she gasped, finding her body trapped by his.

  “Don’t you think I’ve told myself that?”
he asked hoarsely. “What else do you think kept me from going after you the other night? I keep saying it’s crazy…but I still want you.” He paused, his molten gaze searing her features one by one before casting its heat deeper. “You know that, don’t you?”

  How could she help but know it when her insides felt on fire and her blood raced in a wild torrent through her veins. She wanted Ben too; there was no doubt in her mind. Nor was there doubt that she was as crazy as he if she thought it would be right…under the circumstances.

  “No…” she whispered, but her eyes dropped to his lips, and she mindlessly reached to touch them. They were firm and strong, warm and willing. Her fingertips traced their manly shape in the exploration of the blind. Then, burned by the flame that leaped between them, she sucked her breath in sharply and tore her hand away. “No!” she cried more forcefully. In truth, she was terrified by the strength of the attraction she felt.

  Startled by her tone, Ben eased back. “Shhhh. It’s all right, Abby,” he said, gentling her softly, all the while studying her expression through a quizzical one of his own. Then he slowly pushed himself away and sat up. Knees bent, arms crossed atop them, he looked out over the lake and took several deep, calming breaths.

  Abby, too, sat up, but she never took her eyes from the broad-shouldered man beside her. When he sighed in frustration, she wanted to ease it. When he hung his head in disquietude, she wanted to reach out. But she did nothing until he turned to look at her at last. Then she nearly jumped.

  “I could use that swim. Care to join me?” His voice was husky, but otherwise he seemed well in control.

  Abby was less so. “I…uh, no. I think I’ll sit this one out.”Swim with him? How could she ever handle that? She doubted the lake could be cool enough to douse the heat she knew she would feel. Rather she’d sit here and give herself time to recover from this most recent attack of desire.

  To her chagrin, she realized too late that she may have picked the greater of two evils. For, several minutes after disappearing into the lodge, Ben reemerged to swim…with a towel thrown over his shoulder…and a positively devastating pair of slim-fitting navy trunks molded low on his hips.

  Fortunately, he was preoccupied. Head down, he descended the long embankment to the waterside. His stride was an even one, the mark of the athlete. As she watched with a gnawing hunger, Abby was struck by the firmness of him, his long, lean length, the muscles that flexed minimally with movement. He was masculinity in motion, and the sight of him made her gasp for air.

  When he reached the waterside, he dropped his towel onto a log, waded into the water up to his thighs, then swung his arms up in a continuous arc and dove forward. Abby sat straight, her own arms clasped convulsively around her knees as she followed the progress of his powerful stroke. His arms rotated smoothly, his legs barely broke the surface with their kick. His head turned rhythmically for air, and she wondered how he could be breathing that much more easily than she was at that moment.

  He must be a kind of demon, she mused, to be able to affect her like this. It simply wasn’t fair! Why couldn’t she respond to Sean this way, with the simplest look eliciting a sensual response? This was a jury, a jury, she told herself again. How could she possibly yield to the temptation of one Benjamin J. Wyeth? Any way she looked at it, it seemed totally improper.

  But she still wanted him. No amount of reasoning could convince her otherwise. She wanted to explore that sinewed body, to know the texture of his skin and the feel of his strength beneath her hands. She ached to stretch out beside him and mold her softer curves to the straightness of his manly lines. Oh, yes, she wanted him…and in the eddy of desire there was only one thought that kept her sane. It was neither the life that awaited her at the trial’s end nor knowledge of the gravity of her current duty. Rather it was the prospect of a woman awaiting Ben…and the fear that for him Abby was nothing more than a few moments’ release from the tension of their circumstances.

  Wallowing in this strange obsession, she lost track of the time. She was aware of others wandering around the grounds of the lodge, occasionally crossing her line of vision—a line that led straight to the lake. She smiled once, nodded twice, but couldn’t move from the spot despite her inner torment.

  Finally Ben swam toward shore, tossed his head back and emerged from the shallows to reach for his towel. His body glistened in the late afternoon sun; she wished she were the one drying it. But he seemed oblivious to her still as he briskly toweled his chest and arms. Then, wrapping the towel around his neck and tugging on its ends distractedly, he started back toward the lodge, seeming as preoccupied as he’d been on the walk down.

  Abby held her breath, fearful that he’d hear the thunder of her heartbeat. She’d never know what actually did stop him, only knew that when he drew even with where she sat he paused, looked up, and stared. Not even the closeness of his damp body could lure her eyes from his. She was sucked in, held captive and released only when he rubbed one end of the towel across his brow and moved on.

  Shaken, she sat for a little longer. But no amount of soul searching could alter the fact that to surrender to what she felt would be irresponsible. She’d never been one to do things on impulse. And now was certainly not the time to start.

  Motivated at last by determination, she jumped to her feet and strode to the veranda, where she retrieved the bag she’d brought, settled into a free chair, curled her legs under her, and opened her book.

  Fortunately it was easy reading, a popular novel she’d begun the night before. She tuned out all movement around the lodge, intent only on immersing herself in the lives of the characters. And she was successful. For when Louise tapped her on the shoulder and informed her that the ribs were just about done, hence the barbecue about to begin in a clearing on the far side of the lodge, she was startled. Feeling definitely refreshed by the hour’s respite and proud of herself as well, she joined the others for a feast of not only ribs, but chicken and steak, sweet corn, potatoes, and three different kinds of salad. In some ways she was relieved when Ben kept his distance. They both needed time to let reason prevail.

  Much to her satisfaction, Abby enjoyed herself. Not that she didn’t with Ben—but that was half heaven, half hell. Here, though, she relaxed with a group of her fellows, finding, one by one, things to like in each. Perhaps having finally accepted that they would indeed be together for a while, they’d begun to open up, talking about the jobs they held, even their families. Abby found herself laughing gaily more than once in response to a personal story told by one of the others.

  Moreover, she couldn’t help but be buoyed by Patsy, who seemed to have taken it upon herself to work with the staff of the lodge, running to and from the kitchen putting refills of food on the long buffet table, grinning radiantly at everyone, her cheeks flushed with pleasure.

  “What’s this about designing skiwear? I think you’ve found your calling here,” Abby whispered while Patsy dispensed the carrot coleslaw.

  Patsy’s eyes glowed. “You should only know.”

  “But aren’t you going to eat anything yourself?”

  “Oh…I’ll catch something in a couple of minutes.”

  “Patsy…” Abby eyed her suspiciously.

  “This is fun!” the other replied happily. “I’m really glad we came.” Then she lowered her voice. “Now, if you’ll move on Miss Barnes so these other poor folk can get some food…”

  Finding Patsy’s effervescence contagious, Abby had moved on and enjoyed the meal. When it was over, though, she set out by herself toward the waterside. It wasn’t enough to be sated by food and pleasant company. There was still Ben.

  “Come on, Abby. Let’s take a ride.”

  She whirled around in time to see the man of the moment capture her hand. “A ride? What kind of ride?”

  “A canoe ride. Why don’t we take one out?” He’d asked her, yet she sensed he’d made a statement. Though he was outwardly his charming self, there was a thread of intensity just below the
surface that suggested he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  “Isn’t…isn’t it getting kind of late?”

  “We’ve still got close to an hour.”

  “But it’s getting dark.”

  His lips curved into a lopsided smile. “What’s wrong, Abby? Never been canoeing before?”

  “Of course I’ve been canoeing. Not for years…but I’m sure I can still handle a paddle.”

  “Are…you afraid of me?” he asked, his voice lowered but bearing that same challenge she’d heard in it before.

  “Not on your life,” she exclaimed. Actually it was her own response to him that frightened her.

  “Then let’s go.” Without further word, he led her to the place where several canoes were beached. “We’d better leave our shoes here,” he said, waiting until they’d both done as much before resuming command. Easing the canoe into the water, he held it while she settled into its bow, then waded into the water far enough to free the craft from the sand and hop into its stern.