beside him. Magic? Coincidence? Fate? Whatever—being with Sandy made him realise he had been living a stunted half-life that might ultimately have destroyed him.
How could he let her go in three days’ time?
But if he asked Sandy to stay he had to be sure it would be to stay for ever.
With just one finger he traced the line of her cheekbones, her nose, her mouth.
She stirred, as he’d hoped she would. Her eyelids fluttered open and her gaze focused on him. His heart leapt as recognition dawned in her eyes. She smiled the slow, contented smile of a satisfied woman and stretched languorously.
‘Fancy waking up to you in my bed,’ she murmured. She took his hand and kissed first each finger in turn and then his palm with featherlight touches over the scars he hated so much. She placed his hand on her breast and covered it with her own.
‘You were so worth waiting twelve years for,’ she whispered.
‘Yes.’ He couldn’t find any more words. Just kissed her on her forehead, on her nose, finally on her mouth.
Want for her stirred again. He circled her nipple with his thumb and felt it harden. She moaned that sweet moan of pleasure. She returned his kiss. Softly. Tenderly. Then she turned her body to his.
Afterwards she lay snuggled into him, her head nestled on his chest, their legs entwined. The sweet vanilla scent of her filled his senses. He held her to him as tightly as he could without hurting her. He didn’t want to let her go.
Did she feel the same way about what had just happened—a connection that had been so much more than physical?
Did she know she had ripped down a huge part of the barricade that had protected him against feeling anything for anyone?
Hoarsely, he whispered her name.
The tenor of her breathing changed and he realised she was falling back to sleep. Had she heard him?
‘Ben...’ she murmured as her voice trailed away.
* * *
As Sandy drifted back into sleep, satiated not just with sexual satisfaction but with joy, she realised a profound truth: she’d never got it right with anyone but Ben. Not just the physical—which had been indescribably wonderful—but the whole deal.
Right back when she was eighteen she’d thought she’d found the man for her—but those close to her, those who had thought they knew what was best for her, had dissuaded her.
She tightened her grip on his hand and smiled.
Her heart had got it right the first time.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
‘SO, IS THE sex with my nephew good?’
Sandy nearly fell off the chair near Aunt Ida’s hospital bed, too flummoxed even to think about a reply.
Ida laughed. ‘Not a question you expect a little old lady to ask?’
‘Uh...not really,’ Sandy managed to splutter as hot colour flooded her cheeks. She’d come to talk about the Bay Books business, not her private life with Ben.
Ida shifted her shoulders and resettled herself on the pillows, a flash of pain tightening her face. Sandy ached to help her, but Ben’s great-aunt was fiercely independent.
‘You don’t actually have to answer me,’ said Ida. ‘But great sex is so important to a healthy relationship. If you don’t have those fireworks now, forget having a happy future together.’
Sandy realised she had blushed more times since she’d been back in Dolphin Bay than she had in her entire life.
‘I... Uh... We...’ How the heck did Ida know what had happened with Ben last night? How did she know there’d been fireworks aplenty?
Ida chuckled. ‘I’ll take that as a yes, then. Any fool can see the chemistry between you two. Good. No matter what the world dishes up to you, you’ll always have that wonderful intimacy to keep your love strong. It was like that for me and Mike.’
‘Oh?’ Sandy literally did not know where to look. To talk about sex with someone of her grandmother’s age was a new and unnerving experience.
‘I suppose you know about my scandalous past?’
‘I heard that you—’
‘But I guess you don’t want to hear about that.’
The expression in Ida’s eyes made it clear that Ida wanted very much to tell her story. And Sandy was curious to hear it. There hadn’t been much talking about relationships in her family’s strait-laced household. No wonder she’d been so naïve at the age of eighteen, when she’d met Ben.
Sandy settled herself back in her chair. ‘Did you really run away with a sailor, like Ben says?’
‘Indeed I did. Mike was sailing up the coast. We clicked instantly. I went back to his boat with him and—’
Sandy found herself gripping the fabric of her skirt where it bunched over her knees. She wanted to hear the story but she didn’t—she really didn’t—want to hear the intimate details.
‘I never left. I quit my job. Threw my hat in with Mike. We got married on an island in Fiji.’
One part of Sandy thought it romantic, another thought it foolhardy.
‘Even though you hardly knew him?’ But how well did she actually know Ben? Enough to risk her heart the way she’d done last night?
‘I knew enough that I wanted to spend every waking and sleeping moment with him. I was thirty-five; he was five years older. We didn’t have time to waste.’
Was that message aimed at her and Ben? The way she felt right now Sandy hated being parted from him even for a minute. But there were issues still unresolved.
‘What about...what about children? Did you regret not having kids?’
‘Not for a moment. We couldn’t have had the life we had with kids. Mike was enough for me.’
Could Ben be enough for her? Right now her heart sang with the message that he was all she wanted. But what about in years to come? If things worked out with Ben, could she give up her dreams of a family?
Ida continued. ‘And I don’t have time to waste now. Once I’m over this injury I want to go back to the places I visited with Mike. It might be my last chance.’
Sandy put up a hand in protest. ‘Surely not. You—’
‘Still have years ahead of me? Who knows? But what I do know is I need to sell Bay Books—and I want you to buy it from me.’
Again, Sandy was too flabbergasted to reply to the old lady. Just made an incoherent gasp.
‘You told me you want to run your own business,’ said Ida. ‘And
