Free When She's Bad by Leanne Banks Page B

image.”
    “Oh that,” she said, waving her hand in a dismissing gesture. “It’s not an image. I was born with it. My father said I was the spawn of a devil and angel, but the devil won.”
    He raised his eyebrows. “Was he the devil?”
    She opened her mouth then closed it, blinking at the possibility. “What an interesting thought. My father is a professional evangelist, so I’m sure he believes that he was the angel.”
    “Then why did he tangle with the devil?”
    “Oh, it’s always the devil’s fault,” she said, still feeling nervous about the look in his eyes. She needed to eliminate his curiosity, the almost sexual interest. It made her jittery. “He said my mother tempted him with her earthly wiles. Quick and dirty story is he was a freshly graduated frat boy who hadn’t sown enough wild oats. He went into business with the owner of the local bar where we lived, fell head over butt for my mother when she won a wet T-shirt contest. His mother, however, literally suffered a stroke when she learned her boy was playing around with a single-mother floozy. Guilt-ridden, he repented of his sins by ditching my mother and entering seminary. My mother exacted her revenge by naming me Delilah and neglecting to tell him that he had become a father. So you could say I was born and bred to be a bad girl.”
    “Your mother was a single mother before she had you?” he asked.
    Delilah nodded, certain the truth would offend and horrify him. “Yes. She was quite proli—” She searched for the word. It had been one of her words of the day last week. “Prodig—” She frowned.
    “Prolific, prodigious—”
    She nodded again. “Prodigious. Probably prolific too. Fertile would also work. Four children by four men.”
    He didn’t appear nearly as shocked as she’d expected. He still had that curious, sexually intent look. She’d seen it before a million times, so she knew. “Totally different world than yours. Totally different kind of woman than you’re used to,” she said, heavily hinting that he should take his interest elsewhere.
    “I’ve had a relationship with a certain type of woman and it didn’t work out. Maybe I should try a different kind of woman.”
    She shook her head. “Oh, don’t even think about it. You’re used to French champagne and trust me darlin’ I am domestic to the bone. Think pedigreed French poodle versus mixed breed. You wouldn’t know what to do with me if you had me, and once you had me, you wouldn’t be able to get rid of me fast enough.”
    She saw a hint of challenge light his eyes and bit back an oath. Oh, crap, she’d awakened the sleeping giant that lurked beneath the skin of almost every proper white boy.
    He leaned closer to her and touched his finger to her mouth. “You could be right that I’m used to French champagne. You could be right that I’ve spent too much time with pedigreed women.” He rubbed his finger over her lips in a sensual motion that made her want to slide her tongue over his bold finger. Holding her breath, she resisted.
    “But you could be wrong when you say that if I had you,” he said in a deep velvet voice that felt far too intimate, “I wouldn’t know what to do with you.”
    She felt her body respond in ways it hadn’t responded in months. Swallowing over her surprise that a good boy like Benjamin could generate such heat, she took a step back, determined to cover her reaction. “That’s not something I want or need to know.”
    “That could change.”
    Willy let out a wail. Delilah smiled. “Not likely.” Not with Willy the ultimate sexual mood-killer in residence. Strange as all get out, but it looked as if Willy could protect her from the wiles of Benjamin until he felt he’d repaid his debt of honor to her and got the heck away from her.
    Benjamin spent the afternoon baby sitting. When the clock passed five P.M. , he got an uncomfortable feeling that Delilah would be late. The image of her going out and forgetting to