Getting It Right!. Rhonda Nelson

her mother knew who her father was seeing—precious little escaped her ever-observant eye and if it did, her private detective kept her abreast of goings-on—but something about her mother’s smug smile when the subject came up indicated to April that, for whatever reason, Morgana would take entirely too much glee in sharing her father’s secret. And evidently, the only thing she’d enjoy more was her dad telling her himself.

      But clearly her father didn’t want her to know, and finding out by any other means seemed entirely too sneaky. She preferred the direct approach.

      A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. As evidenced by this morning’s behavior. Hi, Ben. My orgasm is broken and I need you to fix it for me. Not verbatim, of course, but the meaning couldn’t have been any more clear. Odd how their familiarity had both terrified and liberated her. Ben knew her, which had been both a pro and a con.

      On the pro side, he knew what to expect from her. He knew that she didn’t pull any punches, that she abhorred all methods of manipulation. That had given her the freedom to walk into his office and lay everything out on the line.

      Then again, he knew her. It was like having your gyno and your ex being one in the same. Talk about awkward. Hell, all that had been missing this morning was the paper dress and pair of stirrups.

      At any rate, given the woeful twinge in her sex and the pleasant tingling sensation in her nipples, seeing The Vagina Whisperer had definitely been the right choice. She hadn’t felt that much tension in her hot spots in over a year…and he hadn’t even touched her yet.

      April pulled into her driveway, shifted into park, then let her gaze turn inward. All he’d done was sit there and stare at her with those brooding, rock-your-world eyes. He’d calmly assessed her, trailed that compelling gaze over her body like warm honey over a biscuit and something inside her had wriggled to life once more. She was starving and, though it might be unreasonable, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Ben was the only person who could feed her. April released a stuttering breath.

      And the feast was at seven.

      3

      AT PRECISELY SEVEN O’CLOCK—she’d circled the block three times first in order to avoid being early—April pulled into Ben’s driveway and tried to summon the courage to get out of her car. It was bad enough having to ask for an orgasm, but she had absolutely no intention of appearing too eager by preempting their prescribed meeting time. He knew she was desperate—she’d come to him, hadn’t she?—but there was no need to look downright pathetic.

      Though she’d gotten a good look at the classic Georgian on her numerous trips around the block, April leaned back in her seat and took a minute to really appreciate the old manor.

      Painted a pale dove-gray and accented with crisp white shutters and trim, the house sat on an expertly manicured lawn surrounded by hundred-year-old live oaks dripping with Spanish moss that swayed in the chilly evening breeze. Ivy wound its way around the central columns supporting the huge porch and created an evergreen arbor, one she suspected would be dressed in lazy purple wisteria blossoms come the spring.

      An ornamental iron fence surrounded the property and accompanying accent pieces had been strategically placed around the yard. Vintage gas lamps showcased twin dancing flames on either side of the curiously forbidding door.

      Despite the obvious majesty of the home, there was a slightly gothic feel—one she imagined Ben purposely cultivated. It conjured pImages** of mint juleps and voodoo dolls, and would have been right at home in an Anne Rice novel. She paused, absorbing the sensual essence of the house and decided it suited its owner. It was beautiful yet dark and seductive…full of hidden secrets.

      April let out an expectant breath. But she wasn’t here to explore hidden secrets. She was more interested in his hidden talents, ones she’d been fantasizing about for years and more recently, today.

      Since this morning’s conversation, every waking second had been consumed with the idea that Ben Hayes—the one guy that she’d always wanted—was going to make love to her.

      Tonight.

      For whatever reason, be it women’s intuition or just wishful thinking, she was absolutely certain that he was going to be able to “fix” her, that whatever had prompted her orgasmic hiatus would crumble under the expert skill of his lovemaking.

      A hot thrilling kiss from that sexy mouth, the slide of those big warm hands over her bare back, his talented tongue curling around her nipple. That big hard body positioned between her legs, pushing into her until he coaxed that elusive climax out of her dormant libido.

      A sigh stuttered out of her lungs. All of it, hers for the taking the instant she drummed up the nerve to get out of the freaking car, she thought, annoyed with herself for dawdling. Asking for his help had been the hurdle, dammit. Walking through that door when she knew what awaited her should be a piece of cake.

      And yet, she hesitated.

      April didn’t know why, couldn’t pinpoint an exact cause for her anxiety, but for reasons she couldn’t begin to explain, she knew—knew—that she was taking a huge risk. Knew that things couldn’t as be as simple as what she hoped they’d be. No matter how she tried to simplify things, she’d invited Ben Hayes back into her life in one of the most intimate ways a woman could—into her body. There was nothing casual or commonplace about it and she didn’t take it lightly.

      In her opinion, there was nothing casual about sex. She’d had several lovers over the years, but they’d been chosen carefully. She had too much self-respect to hand her body over to someone who wouldn’t appreciate it or be worthy of the gift. Despite their rocky past, if she hadn’t known beyond a shadow of a doubt that Ben would fit the bill on both counts, she could have never gone to him and asked for his help.

      Somewhere beneath that brooding exterior lay the sexy bad boy with the irreverent smile and kind heart she used to know. Finding him after all these years would be a chore, but she didn’t doubt that he was still there. A faint smile curled her lips. She’d seen the briefest glimpse of him this morning.

      With one last bracing breath, April snagged her purse and keys and got out of the car. It was door-die time, she thought, and, since she wasn’t trying to sell him a vacuum cleaner or invite him to church, this was no front-door visit. Rather than taking the front walk, April followed the winding brick path alongside the house around to the back door. Another woeful twinge in her neglected sex prompted her to knock on the door.

      Thirty seconds later, Ben appeared. Dressed in head-to-toe black, his dark hair still slightly damp and slicked away from his forehead, he looked sexy and dangerous, and completely capable of rocking her world. He smiled, just the merest quirk of his lips, and her toes curled.

      “Come in.”

      If he’d take her in the mudroom, she could come now, April thought, wondering if this was what it felt like to be held enthralled. One look and those two little words and she was utterly enchanted. Captivated. As a teenager he’d been addictive—as an adult, he was positively lethal.