Free Talk Me Down by Victoria Dahl Page B

house. Ben followed. Oh, sure, he was willing to come in now.
    Molly tossed the box on a table and headed for the kitchen. “Do you want a piece of homemade apple pie?”
    “Who made it?”
    “I did.”
    “Pie? What’s gotten into you?”
    “Coffee!” Just the sound of the word cheered Molly up. “Coffee got into me! My beans came!” She gestured toward the ripped-open FedEx package.
    “I see.”
    She followed Ben’s gaze to the staggered trail of coffee beans that littered the floor and counter. “Sorry, I was pretty excited. You want a latte? I’ve got my fancy city-girl espresso machine up and running.”
    He cocked his head as if he was figuring something out. A few seconds later, his shoulders lost a little of their stiffness. “You’ve got coffee and pie. I’ve got a container of chili in the car. That sounds like dinner.”
    “Dinner? That’s a date!”
    But Ben was already shaking his head. “No. A real date would be a drive up to my cabin where we’d have dinner in front of the fireplace. Wine. Dessert. Then maybe we’d walk over to the hot springs at the edge of my property. I’d strip you naked and carry you in. And then, Molly, then we’d make love in the warmest part of the water while snowflakes melted on our skin. We wouldn’t care about the cold. We wouldn’t care about anything but getting more of each other. That would be a date.”
    Holy mother of God, it certainly would.
    “But we’re not dating because you refuse to tell me anything about yourself. So we’re having chili and pie in the kitchen, and that’s it.”
    “That’s it?” she whispered.
    He held up his hands in regret. “Is this Cameron Kasten someone you work with?”
    Molly fought the urge to throw the whole pie at him. “Shut up and get the chili. And don’t look so sure of yourself. You think I couldn’t get into your pants if I wanted?”
    He left without a word, though she thought he looked a little worried. Good. It would serve him right if she stripped down and laid herself out naked on the counter. She did have whipped cream.
    Hmm. Maybe.
    But then he was back, carrying a big Tupperware bowl.
    “Why do you carry chili around in your truck?”
    “Why do you have a big wi-fi antenna on top of your house?”
    “What?” She shook off the question. “Listen, I’m really sorry about the paper. Again. I shouldn’t have seduced you into…you know.”
    “I’d hardly call it seduction.”
    “Wait. What the hell does that mean?”
    “It means you were drunk and slightly incoherent, and I should have been the one to know better.”
    “Slightly incoherent? Wow, you paint a beautiful picture.” She’d been thinking pretty damn fondly of that night, but she was suddenly overwhelmed by a very different image. A scene in which she, sloppy drunk and cracking unfunny jokes, masturbated herself against an unwilling man’s lap.
    Oh, holy hell, she’d totally used Ben Lawson as a sex toy.
    Molly put her hands over her eyes in horror, determined to talk herself down. That wasn’t what had happened. Okay, yes, she’d used him as a sex toy, but he hadn’t been unwilling. In fact, his mouth had been tremendously friendly.
    Ben touched her hand and she peeked above her fingers.
    “I told you I had a good time, Molly. And remember, policemen can’t lie.”
    “But I think I used you.”
    “Oh, you used me. And I’m so traumatized I can barely keep my hands off you, even though I’ve given us both every reason not to get involved.”
    His eyes, normally so careful and guarded, sparked to life. They practically shimmered with heat. Hot heat. Hot, I-wanna-rip-off-your-clothes-and-do-you-outside-in-the-water heat. That fire reached out to her and shivered over her nerves, especially the most important nerves.
    He’d done it again; made her wet with just a look. How was that possible?
    Molly slowly dropped her hands and stared openmouthed at this man who’d lost any semblance of familiarity. He wasn’t