She laughed. ‘It’s not you I’m worried about. It’s my mother.’
Ben didn’t give a damn if her mother realised they were sleeping together. Mothers had never been a problem to him. They usually liked him a lot. ‘I can handle your mother,’ he said.
Lord, but he was an arrogant devil. But she did so like him. And she wanted him like mad. Already she was regretting not going to New York with him, even if it was only for a holiday. Still, she suspected Ben hadn’t totally given up on that idea. Jess wondered what she would say if he asked her again.
Hopefully, she would have the courage—and the common sense—still to say no. But, dear Lord, she did have a lot of trouble saying no to him.
‘I’m coming to that barbecue,’ he announced firmly, ‘And that’s final. Now, about that new name for Fab Fashions; I’ve given it some thought. What do you think of Real Women? It would lend itself to a good advertising campaign. Clothes for real women, et cetera, et cetera.’
The take-over man in action again, Jess thought. Telling her he was coming, then changing the subject.
She had to smile. He was clever all right.
‘I think it’s a great name,’ she said. ‘I love it.’
He beamed across the table at her. ‘Finally she agrees with something I’ve suggested!’
‘I can be agreeable,’ she said. ‘When it’s a sensible suggestion.’
‘Coming to New York with me is just as sensible.’
‘Ben,’ she said with a warning look. ‘Just leave it, will you?’
‘Okay. I will. For now. But I make no promise to do so indefinitely.’
They both fell to eating their meals, Jess doing her best to stop thinking about her potentially dangerous feelings for Ben. Once again she wished she could be like other girls. Most would jump at the chance of going to New York with him, even if it didn’t lead to anything permanent.
But maybe it would; she started hoping as she ate. How would she know unless she agreed? She’d gone to bed with Ben initially because she knew she’d regret it if she didn’t. Maybe she’d regret not going to New York with him and not giving their relationship a chance.
But it wasn’t a relationship, her more pragmatic side argued. It was just a fling, or an affair, for want of a better word. Ben had never said he loved her. Not that he would. It was way too early for a man of his natural wariness to make such a declaration. She certainly wasn’t about to tell him she was close to falling for him either. That would only give him power over her. He had enough of that already.
No, she wouldn’t be foolish enough to admit that. But she would think about going to New York with him and, when he asked her again, she probably would say yes.
‘That steak was quite good,’ Ben said, wiping his mouth with a paper serviette.
‘My dad cooks much better steak on the barbecue,’ Jess told him. ‘And Mum’s salads are way better.’
‘In that case, I’m in for a treat later today.’
‘Just don’t let my brothers give you too much beer.’
‘Why? You’re worried I might not be able to perform when you take me home?’
‘What? No, of course not! Ben De Silva, haven’t you had enough sex for one weekend?’
‘There’s no such thing as too much sex.’
‘There is if it involves getting your bottom spanked,’ she whispered so that the people at the next table couldn’t hear.
He frowned. ‘Sorry. I did get a little carried away last night. In that case, you can have today off.’
She tried to be annoyed with him but she simply couldn’t. Instead, she smiled. A slightly wry smile, but still a smile. ‘One day, some woman is going to tell you where to go, Ben De Silva.’
He nodded. ‘You could be right there. And I have a feeling she’s sitting across the table from me.’
I wish, Jess thought. But she just laughed, then finished off her coffee. Ten minutes later, they were back on the road and heading for home, turning off the motorway just after three-thirty.
JESS’S HOME WAS bigger than Ben had expected, a two-storeyed, family-sized house in blond brick, with the biggest shed that Ben had ever seen sitting in a nearby paddock. A workshop, obviously, plus garaging for the hire cars. Two of the three massive roller doors were open and Ben could glimpse several cars within. The land around the house was bigger than he’d expected too, at least five acres. It was a lovely looking property with well-tended gardens, rolling lawns and enough trees to give privacy and shade.
Jess drove her SUV off the driveway onto a large square of gravel by the side of the house, the clock on her dash showing five to four as Ben climbed out. Jess had explained on the way that the barbecue wouldn’t start till five-ish, so they had some time before her brothers and their families descended upon them.
‘What a lovely place,’ he said straight away.
Jess smiled. ‘We like it. Mum will be in the kitchen, preparing the salads. You can meet her first. This way…’
‘I presume that’s the office,’ he said as he walked past a converted double garage which had sliding glass doors at the front with ‘Murphy’s Hire Car’ in big, black letters engraved on it.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘That’s mostly Mum’s domain. I help out when Mum’s shopping or plays bowls or just needs a break. Mum, we’re here,’ Jess called out as she opened the front door.
A woman appeared at the end of the hallway, light behind her forming the silhouette of someone much shorter than Jess, and somewhat plumper.
‘Goodness, but you made good time. I didn’t expect you till four-thirty at least.’
When she came forward, Ben saw her more clearly. She looked nothing like Jess, being short, with ash-blonde hair and blue eyes. Attractive for her age, though.
‘Hello, there,’ she said, smiling as she looked him up and down. ‘You must be Ben.’
‘And you must be Mrs Murphy,’ he replied, stepping forward to give her a kiss on the cheek. ‘Lovely to meet you.’
Jess could not believe the look on her mother’s face. It was the kind of look you saw on the face of a female fan of a rock star. Truly!
‘Oh, don’t call me that.’ Her mother fairly simpered at him. ‘Call me Ruth.’
Jess gained some satisfaction in the thought that he wouldn’t charm her father so easily. Joe Murphy was a tough nut to crack. He wasn’t going to be impressed by a New Yorker who’d never had dirt under his fingernails in his life.
‘In that case, Ruth,’ Ben said, flashing those brilliant white teeth of his, ‘would you kindly point me to the nearest bathroom?’
Her mother didn’t point. She escorted Ben herself to the small powder room next to the family room, leaving Jess standing there in the hallway like some shag on a rock.
Jess sighed, then trudged upstairs to use the toilet in the main bathroom. By the time she made it downstairs, Ben was ensconced on one of the kitchen stools, chatting away happily to her mother whilst she worked on the various salads.
‘That’s a terrific new name Ben’s come up with for Fab Fashions, isn’t it?’ she directed at Jess as she joined them.
‘Fantastic,’ Jess