“If I eat and take an aspirin will that be enough to appease this guilt trip you seem to be on?”
Inwardly Ben smiled. It wasn’t easy for her to give in. Later he’d give himself a point for achieving that magnificent feat. Right now, he sensed it was more to get him out of her hair as soon as possible than anything else.
Giving credit where it was due, she was absolutely right about one thing. He was guilty. So guilty he’d almost choked on it all day while he’d tried convincing himself that coming to see her was a very bad idea.
“You cooked?” he asked after he’d moved into the kitchen to see a dish of something wrapped in foil on top of the stove.
“I forgot to put that away. She would have a fit if she saw that,” Victoria said.
“ ‘She’ meaning your mother, I presume?” Her kitchen was small compared to his, but definitely homey with its warm beigewalls and friendly yellow curtains. There was an island in its center, with a vase full of fresh flowers, a stack of cloth napkins and two placemats that matched the checkered pattern of the curtains.
Victoria nodded. “She loves to cook. Lasagna’s her specialty.”
Lifting the foil from the dish and inhaling deeply, Ben replied, “And it appears she does a great job. How about I heat up a bowl for both of us?”
While he was salivating over the lasagna she’d already moved to the cabinets—light oak polished until they practically gleamed—and had two plates in her hand as she looked over her shoulder at him. “Right, because both of us need to eat to ensure that I’m alright.”
Ben shrugged, not in the least bit offended by being caught. “My mother always told me never let a woman eat alone.”
She smiled.
And the tense atmosphere that he’d walked into dissipated. Hell, every worry, every thought disappeared from his mind. Nothing was as important as her smile. Her comfort. Her satisfaction. The way his heart warmed at that thought and threatened to thump right out of his chest was something he’d have to examine later.
Victoria
“So, you’re a Mama’s Boy?” she asked while she sat back in the chair watching him devour his second helping of lasagna.
He didn’t look like he had a big appetite, his body was muscled and toned to the point he looked absolutely delicious in his clothes, whether dress or casual, as she was being treated to tonight. Even khakis and a black t-shirt that looked as if it had been painted on his sculpted chest was gorgeous.
Victoria liked to think she was a realist, she didn’t believe in fantasies, didn’t indulge in meaningless fairy tales. The fact that Ben was an attractive man, was a given. She could admit that and not feel an ounce of guilt. And before thirty minutes ago, she would’ve firmly believed he was an arrogant egotistical ass most of the time. Now, however, she was seeing another side of him.
“I wouldn’t say that. I adore my mother and so does my brother. She dotes on both of us, even though we’re adults. My dad just shakes his head at the three of us most of the time. I’d say we just love each other a lot. Kind of like you and your mother.”
She’d watched him talk, watched his lips move over bright white teeth, the muscles in his jaw tick as he took another forkful of food. His eyes were dark, almost black, but still held a warmth she hadn’t considered he possessed.
“My mother and I are very close,” she admitted. Never in her wildest dreams had Victoria thought she’d be sitting in her kitchen talking about family with Ben. “Especially since my dad died.”
“I’m sorry about that,” he told her and she got the sense he knew exactly what happened to her father. Why he would know didn’t make sense, then again nothing about this man was adding up into the neat little column she’d placed him in.
Shaking her head she said something else that surprised her. “Tell me more about your family.”
He took a drink of the iced tea she’d poured for them. “We have a very large family. Some of us are here and some are in Washington, Virginia, Texas, Miami and London. We’re all spread out,” he told her. “Most of us try to get together at least once a year to catch up.”
“Like a family reunion. I’ve never been to one of those before.” And making that statement made her realize she really wanted to.
“Your family doesn’t get together?”
“It’s just me and my mother. She has some family back east, but we rarely hear from them, let alone see them.”
“Family should always keep in touch,” he said earnestly.
“Your family is not like most,” she said reaching out to pick up her glass. She didn’t want to have a drink, just needed something to do with her hands. Resisting the urge to want to touch Ben—on his sculpted biceps, his tone shoulders or even just his hand—was harder than it should’ve been.
“I could take you to a family dinner, if you want. That’ll prepare you for the reunion. We can be a bit overwhelming,” he told her and took another bite of food.
She did take a drink then and looked at him with consideration as she returned her glass to the table. “You’re very presumptuous.”
“Really? I’d call it optimistic,” he said with a smile as he swallowed the last bit of his food.
