He rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. You don’t have brothers or sisters. You weren’t around family growing up.”
“No, but I did make friends wherever we went. There were two ways to handle each situation when we moved. I could either be on my own so that when we left again, leaving friends behind wouldn’t hurt, or I could just jump right in and get involved, make friends and hope someday we’d see each other again. I jumped in. I didn’t like being lonely.”
Ben looked thoughtful. “Did you see any of your friends again after you moved away?”
“Unfortunately, no. But it was the hope of seeing them again that mattered, and I have a lot of years left to still do it. Who knows? I might return to Brazil or Africa.”
The violinist and guitar players, instead of just playing background music, had launched into a rendition of “Endless Love,” one of Camille’s favorite songs. She and Miguel moved to the middle of the dance floor, ready for their first dance as newlyweds. They looked so happy.
“Next dance we’re going to have to go out there,” Ben reminded her.
The second dance would also be for the parents, Ben and Sierra and any of the guests who wanted to join in. The idea of being held in Ben’s arms again sent a tremble up her spine.
When the love song ended, the instrumentalists began an up-to-date slow melody.
Ben motioned to the dance floor. “Ready?”
She was as ready as she was going to be. She nodded.
He didn’t touch her—she could still recall too vividly the feel of his fingers on her cheek—until they reached the dance floor. He didn’t hesitate then, just opened his arms in the usual ballroom position. She took his hand and laid her arm on his shoulder. His arm went around her and rested lightly on her waist. The room around her with its pale stucco walls and Native American wall hangings faded into nonexistence.
Ben’s cologne was subtle and very masculine. His bolo tie was straight…his shoulders so very wide. The Westerncut jacket fit him perfectly. She wondered about the man inside. What did he really think about her pregnancy? How did he actually feel? When she’d spoken to him the night of the engagement party, she’d known he was a guarded man. That guard covered his emotions.
Sierra could feel Ben’s fingers through the chiffon. Her dress was two pieces, a long flowing jacket with long sleeves, ruffles on the cuffs, and a slip of a dress underneath. Now it seemed almost like a second skin as the dance floor grew more crowded and Ben pulled her a little closer. She looked up and became immobilized by his stormy gray eyes.
She almost tripped when they moved, and he caught her even tighter. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” This near, she couldn’t help thinking about their bodies joining seven weeks ago.
He must have been thinking about it, too, because he said, “I want you to understand something, Sierra. What happened at the engagement party wasn’t an everyday happening for me, either. I have never slept with a woman without protection before.” His voice was low, his face close to hers.
“Even when you’re in a relationship?”
His brow furrowed, and she knew he wasn’t going to confide in her about any of those relationships. “Even in a relationship. A relationship isn’t a marriage. A child deserves two parents who are committed to each other.”
In a way, his statement was reassuring. But in another way, that intensity she sensed in Ben would be directed toward his child, toward fathering, toward custody.
He went on, “I don’t usually sleep that soundly, either. I hadn’t gotten much sleep that week or I would have heard you when you left. I wouldn’t have let you leave.”
“What would you have done?”
For a moment he was silent and she guessed he was trying to find diplomatic words. “I would have gotten your number in case anything happened. I take my responsibilities seriously. This baby, if it’s mine, will be my responsibility.”
“I’m the one who’s carrying this child. I’ll be primary caregiver. I’ll be making decisions for me and the baby.”
When he stiffened, she knew she might have been too blunt. But they might as well set their boundaries now. She wasn’t going to take directives or follow orders. If he wanted to be involved, this was about both of them being parents, not one or the other taking control.
After a few more seconds of their bodies not being as relaxed as they were a few moments before, Ben said, “I should break in on Camille and Miguel. That’s the tradition. Let’s move that way.”
She couldn’t tell if he’d had enough close contact or was really concerned about tradition. But she let him lead her toward the newly married couple.
Ben tapped his friend on the shoulder. “I think it’s my turn. You’ll have her for the rest of your life.”
“And I’ll even miss these few minutes with her,” Miguel complained. But then he looked at Sierra. Smiling, he offered her his hand. “Dancing with you will be my pleasure.”
He floated her away comfortably, not at all awkwardly the way she and Ben had danced. On second thought, the tension had been awkward, but their bodies had fit together all too well.
“So,” Miguel said, studying her carefully. “Camille tells me you and Ben arrived together. Are we supposed to read something into that?”
“There’s nothing to read. Why should both of us drive up separately?”
“That’s what I told Camille. But you know her, she has a suspicious nature. She maintains you two disappeared the night of our engagement party and we’re seeing the results of that now.”
“The results of what?” she asked.
“That’s what Camille wants to know.”
“You have no interest, of course.” Sierra gave him a rueful smile.
“Let’s just say, not many women turn Ben Barclay’s head.”
“How long have you been friends?” Sierra asked, eager to know more.
“Camille never told you our history?”
Sierra had avoided asking Camille questions about Ben. She hadn’t wanted to seem too interested. Actually, she hadn’t been interested. Not until they’d started talking, not until—
“No, she never told me.”
“Ben went to college with my brother.” A look of pain settled on Miguel’s face, pain that was always in his heart.
Sierra had known that Miguel’s brother, Pablo, had been killed in a drive-by shooting when he was home from college one summer.
“Ben was with Pablo when he was shot.”
Miguel never talked about his brother and Sierra had never asked. Camille had told her the basics and she hadn’t pressed for more.
