His Ultimate Temptation. Susan Crosby
a few seconds she looked at him.
“They’re just words on paper, sweetheart. The only thing that matters is how you feel. If what’s been planned makes you unhappy you have to tell us. We’ll adjust. Please don’t think that you have to abide by everything your mom and I agreed to in court. We will always put your needs first.”
“That’s a lie.”
He touched her hair. “No—”
“It’s a lie. If you put me first you wouldn’t’ve gotten that stupid divorce in the first place.”
Tears welled up in her eyes, breaking Ben’s heart. She fumbled with the seat belt until it was undone, then she flung herself into his arms.
“I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m sorry.”
Daddy. She hadn’t called him that in a while. Dad, she said, usually with an inflection of exasperation. “You don’t understand, Dad,” was a phrase he heard all too often these days.
As he held her, he struggled to recall the reasons for the divorce—how Les had disregarded all the plans they’d made. How she’d excluded him in her decision to become a cop. Her accusations that he overprotected her, smothered her. How she’d never understood he was building his empire for her, for their children. He’d grown up so poor, and his mother had worked so hard. But his life would be different. He’d vowed that to Leslie right along with the wedding vows. And he’d worked hard, so hard, to attain financial security.
Then just when he had, she’d dug her heels in, refusing to move into the penthouse of his first hotel. Refusing to quit her job, even though they didn’t need her salary anymore, her supposed reason for joining the force in the first place.
She’d become independent. Self-sufficient Distant.
So he’d bought another old building, this time in the Silicon Valley, the technology mecca of California. And he just kept working. Another hotel in Seattle.
Nothing helped. Her job defined who and what she was. He didn’t. Nor did their marriage, which died a long, slow, painful death.
Aware suddenly of Erin pushing away from him, Ben shifted his focus to his sad-eyed daughter. He clasped her hand. “I’m sorry, sweetheart I didn’t realize how much we hurt you.”
“It’s all right, Dad.”
Her world-weary voice, heavy with grim acceptance, made his very soul ache. He knew what it was like to be a child full of dreams. His had been squashed by the time he was Erin’s age, but he’d let his disappointments guide him down a different path—one headed to success and security. He’d vowed his wife and child wouldn’t suffer the way he had. His daughter wouldn’t ever go to bed hungry. There would be money for her education, even if he died young, like his father. Ben’s father had failed him, but Ben wouldn’t fail.
“Still want to ski?” he asked as she buckled her seat belt again.
“I guess.”
It was enough for now, he decided.
The breakfast dishes done, Leslie made her bed, then considered—and rejected—the idea of making Ben’s. He’d shut the door. She left it that way.
How should she spend her day of no responsibilities? When she’d been promoted from patrol officer to detective, her hours switched to a more-normal schedule, five ten-hour days one week, three days the next, and hardly any overtime. But the workdays were long and her days off always busy.
An entire day loomed before her now, waiting to be discovered.
After mixing a batch of cookie dough, she slid the baking sheets into the oven, set the timer, then wandered into the living room. One by one she took pictures off the mantel and relived the memories there. Their wedding, all of them looking so young in their grown-up clothes. Except for Gabe, that is, who’d been born to wear a tuxedo.
She dusted the glass with her fingertips. Who would’ve thought it would come to this?
She and Ben had planned a life far different from the way they were raised. His father had been declared missing in action in Vietnam when Ben was six, then proclaimed dead many years later, but by then his mother had declared Ben the man of the house—a role he’d filled at too young an age, without a man to guide him. And Leslie had lacked a female role model, her father never remarrying after her mother’s death when Leslie was eight.
With a sigh she returned the wedding photo then selected one of her pregnant with Erin, a sideways shot taken shortly before she’d given birth. How their lives had changed then. Ben was finishing up at the California Culinary Academy, his student loans already a burden, but their lack of medical insurance an even heavier weight. At least the birth had been normal and Erin healthy. They were in and out of the hospital the same day, keeping expenses to a minimum.
Pediatrician visits were costly, however, and a baby’s needs were constant and expensive. Their dreams of Leslie being a stay-at-home mom were about as substantial as morning fog. They needed income and health benefits, period.
Without talking to Ben, because she knew he would veto the idea, she applied for the police academy, waiting until she was accepted before telling him. She came from a long line of San Francisco police officers, had grown up around cops gathered around the kitchen table and telling work stories. It was a world she felt comfortable in, and the job paid better than most for someone of her limited experience.
The bonus, however, was that Ben would have less to worry about financially. She’d been so excited when she’d told him, so happy to be pulling her own weight and helping to provide for them so that Ben could pursue his dream.
Then, everything collapsed. He’d been hurt that she hadn’t consulted him, and angry that she’d taken a job that put her at risk. At first stunned by how vehemently he fought with her about it, she became just as adamant about entering the academy. Nothing was the same after that.
The timer went off, interrupting her thoughts. Grateful, she transferred cookies to a cooling rack, then slid the last pan into the oven.
Her arms crossed, she paced, waiting for another ten minutes to tick down, wishing again she could share her problem with Ben. When she’d first become a police officer she’d tried to share what happened daily, but he shut her down, preferring not to know, even refusing to go on a ride-along with her to see what her job entailed. She learned to build a wall in front of her emotions when she drove home from work each day, leaving her job behind—and a big part of herself. In time it had become easier and easier to keep her work life separate.
The phone rang, startling her. If it was Gabe, he was going to get an earful from her.
“Hello?”
“Are you ever a hard woman to track down.”
“Alex?” His usually friendly voice was tinged with curiosity and irritation. “How did you find me?”
“I’m the FBI. I can find anyone.”
“No, really. How did you know where I was?”
“I was getting a little desperate. I called your friend Gabe. What’s going on, Les? Why’d you disappear without calling me?”
Oh, she knew what Gabe was up to. He’d figured that Ben would answer the phone and get jealous that another man was calling her. Honestly, Gabe was hopeless—and she loved him. “Did you hear what happened?”
“Yes. I wish I’d heard it from you.”
“Has it hit the news?”
“Newspaper and television.”
“There’s your answer, Alex. I didn’t want to be home to see or hear it.”
“So, where exactly are you?”
“A little cabin in the mountains.”
“Do