Arresting Benjamin E-Book

Amber Daulton

• Herausgeber: Amber Daulton
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

A one-night stand, a surprise baby, and a mysterious stalker.
Mechanic Benjamin Starwell can’t stop thinking about Belle Hamlin, the ballsy musician he slept with and skipped out on months earlier. He never meant to get her pregnant, but he’ll do whatever it takes to win back her trust and be a part of his child’s life. His desire for Belle drives him to be a better man, but he’s worn thin with a garage to run and his estranged sister dumping her troubles on him.
Belle’s juggling impending motherhood, her indie rock career, and a stalker who’s determined to see her fail. Even though she’s desperate to get her priorities straight, she pushes aside her past hurt and welcomes Benji back into her bed. She never expects him to slip into her heart.
When the danger escalates, they face the greatest challenge of all—protecting their unborn child.

– Book 3 in the sexy romantic suspense series, Arresting Onyx.
– Warning: scenes depicting gang violence and organized crime, drug use (discussed), kidnapping, and attempted assault. Intended for mature audiences.

Standalone novel. No cheating. HEA guaranteed.

Available in the Arresting Onyx series
Arresting Mason (Mason and Mia)
Arresting Jeremiah (Jim and Calista)
Ryan's Temptation (Ryan and Chanel)
Arresting Benjamin (Benji and Belle)
Trevor's Redemption (Trevor and Shea)
Arresting Alan (Alan and Hannah)

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Title Page

Copyright

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ARRESTING ONYX SERIES BIBLIOGRAPHY

Arresting Benjamin

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Epilogue

Trevor’s Redemption

Chapter One

About the Author

Read More from Amber Daulton

Arresting Benjamin

Amber Daulton

––––––––

Arresting Benjamin © 2022 Amber Daulton

First Edition

Published by Daulton Publishing

Cover Art by Satin Rose Designs

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

NO AI TRAINING: Without in any way limiting the author’s [and publisher’s] exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

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ARRESTING ONYX

SERIES BIBLIOGRAPHY

Arresting Mason

Arresting Jeremiah

Ryan’s Temptation

Arresting Benjamin

Trevor’s Redemption

Arresting Alan

Arresting Onyx: Box Set Volume 1

Arresting Onyx: Box Set Volume 2

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Arresting Benjamin

A one-night stand, a surprise baby, and a mysterious stalker.

Mechanic Benjamin Starwell can’t stop thinking about Belle Hamlin, the ballsy musician he slept with and skipped out on months earlier. He never meant to get her pregnant, but he’ll do whatever it takes to win back her trust and be a part of his child’s life. His desire for Belle drives him to be a better man, but he’s worn thin with a garage to run and his estranged sister dumping her troubles on him.

Belle’s juggling impending motherhood, her indie rock career, and a stalker who’s determined to see her fail. Even though she’s desperate to get her priorities straight, she pushes aside her past hurt and welcomes Benji back into her bed. She never expects him to slip into her heart.

When the danger escalates, they face the greatest challenge of all—protecting their unborn child.

Chapter One

Is that Belle? Benjamin Starwell jolted upright in his chair, his heart hammering as he stared out the restaurant window. His sexy as sin one-night stand, Belle Hamlin, parked her modern lime-green bug under a streetlight, pulled her drab peacoat around her, and hustled down the sidewalk. After she entered a building across the street, he blew out a long breath. Did the universe hate him—dangling what he gave up right in front of him while Sandy jabbered on?

“Can you believe that?” Sandy flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder. “The bitch double-booked my appointment and made me wait half an hour before she did my nails.”

He forced a smile as his date flicked her fingers, showing off the tacky rhinestones glued on the tips of her gleaming red claws. How much more of her bullshit could he stand? The sound of clanking dishes, customer chatter, and instrumental music drowned out her complaints as he peered back outside. What was Belle doing—meeting a guy? Why had he been so stupid?

“Benji, answer me.”

“Sorry, Belle. What did you say?” He whipped his gaze back to the woman across from him at the table. Instead of seeing the sassy brunette he hungered to touch, his scowling date crossed her arms over her chest, which pushed up her already impressive cleavage in her low-cut dress. Aw, shit. Had he lost a few brain cells? “Sandy, I—”

“Who’s Belle?”

He licked his dry lips. Better take the opportunity before he lost it. “I’ve had fun with you over the past few weeks, but oil and water are more compatible than we are. We shouldn’t see each other again.”

She leaned back, her mouth agape. “You’re breaking up with me?” A whip sharpened her voice. Red flared in her cheeks. She grabbed her glass and tossed her drink on him.

“Are you crazy?” He jumped up and lifted his arms. The scent of raspberries washed over him as red wine dripped down his black suit. His wet dress shirt and undershirt clung to him, the cold liquid prickling his skin. The heat rising in his cheeks silenced the harsh words on his tongue. No way would he make this worse.

“Good luck, Ben. I hope your precious Belle gives you warts and your dick falls off.”

He arched his eyebrow. Oh yeah, they were over. For damn sure.

Sandy set down the glass, grabbed her parka and purse, and sashayed out of the restaurant.

He moaned. That ass was killer, but he’d lose his mind if he had to suffer her prattling on for another minute. Muffled laughter pierced his ears. Great. An audience. Patrons and waiters stared at him with wide eyes and gaping mouths, souring the food in his stomach. The snickering twenty-something-year-old couple in the back of the crowded dining room begged him to lecture them about showing respect. He cringed. When had he grown so old—or rather, mature?

With a napkin, he blotted his wet clothes and ruined the fancy cloth. He yanked his wallet from his pants pocket as the blushing waiter approached with the check.

“Thanks.” After he handed several bills to the other man, Benji shrugged into his bulky duffel coat and dashed toward the exit. The stares followed and prickled the hair on his nape. His pulse raced as he pushed open the double glass doors. Yes! Freedom. Frigid air engulfed him, cooling his cheeks and shooting a chill down his spine. He puffed out streams of white.

Moonlight sliced through January snow clouds and gleamed off the vehicles and old brick buildings as though to highlight his escape, but no way did he want to flee the inner-city suburb of Denver, Colorado.

Belle was here.

Once the traffic cleared, he jogged across the road to find her. His feet slipped and kicked up from a patch of ice. Shit! His heart lurched. He grabbed a frozen metal signpost and spread his legs to steady himself. The breeze tousled his hair and raked goosebumps across his flesh.

Careful, man. You break your leg, you’re screwed.

At least someone had cleared the sidewalk and pushed mounds of blackened snow against the buildings. No worries about falling there—he hoped. He strode more carefully to a British pub that was probably Americanized out the ass and pushed open the door. Ah, hell. Heat blasted him. Customer chatter echoed like white noise as some new wave song he’d never heard before blared from the stereo. The scent of alcohol and fried food filled his nostrils. This was so much better than that snooty restaurant. Men drank at the bar that ran the length of the right-side wall, and a few people played darts in the back. Maybe he’d challenge Belle to a game?

As the waitress delivered food to a booth on the opposite wall—Belle’s booth—he claimed a barstool. What was he? Chicken? He scowled at his reflection in the mirror that stretched behind a row of high-end booze. Did that red nose and disheveled auburn hair belong to him? Damned wind. He rubbed his face and watched Belle’s reflection in the mirror.

She sipped her drink and popped a few thick-wedged fries into her mouth.

“What’ll it be?” The short, beefy barman wiped his hands on his apron. A Cockney accent rolled off his tongue.

“A pint of your best stout, please.”

The barman poured the drink from the tap and set it on the counter with a light thud.

Benji paid and gulped the dark, heavy-bodied ale. The rich liquid tingled his taste buds and cascaded down his throat like ambrosia. The scent of hops teased him as the foam tickled his upper lip.

“Uppity little chit. Thinkin’ she’s better than us.”

The gruff voice drifted from Benji’s left. He stiffened as two young men leaned against the bar.

“What a bitch.” The blond guy folded his arms.

“American birds are supposed to be easy, likin’ our accents and all.” The pimple-faced brunet swigged his ale. “Might as well go home if they’re all like her.”

Benji shifted and followed their line of sight to Belle. The fools. She’d eat them alive. He wiped his sweaty palms on his slacks and turned back to the mirror.

Fuck. Belle was hot. Her dark-brown hair brushed her shoulders—short enough to match her sassy mouth but long enough for him to fist.

She rubbed her stomach and dabbed a napkin under her eyes.

His gut tightened. Was she crying? What did those jerks do? He turned to glare at her unwanted admirers, but they’d joined a group of people at the bar and no longer paid attention to Belle. Gripping his mug, he wove around the small tables that cluttered the space between the bar and booths. He leaned against the wooden privacy post that separated Belle’s booth from the adjacent one and cleared his throat.

“Not interested, buddy. Back off.” Her abrupt tone snapped harsher than her words. She munched on a fry and stared at the food.

“People come to pubs to mingle and drink, Belle. Not just for the grub.”

“What?” She jerked her head up and blinked several times. Her puffy eyes widened. “Benji? What are you doing here?”

He lifted the pint. “Mind if I sit?”

She shook her head and patted the corner of her eyes, smoothing out the tear-smudged eyeliner. A flush rose in her cheeks.

He slid onto the worn, cushioned bench seat across from her and set his drink on the table. Her gray turtleneck sweater hung loose, concealing the curves he longed to lick. Beside her lay her coat, beanie, and scarf in a haphazard heap.

“It’s pretty good, huh?” She nodded toward his beverage.

“Yeah. I don’t drink it often, but when in Rome.” He trailed his fingertip over the glass’s rim. Her gaze followed his movement. “Wanna try it?”

Belle snatched the glass and sniffed the liquid. A low moan escaped her lips, but she pushed the drink back across the table.

“I could order you something. You like vodka tonics, right?”

She’d had three of them the night they fell into bed together.

“Thanks, but I shouldn’t drink. These hamburgers are to die for, though.” She picked up the thick burger and bit off a chunk too large for her mouth. Her jaw worked overtime. “You gonna eat?”

If only she’d work that mouth on me. His cock hardened to the point of pain. He shifted his legs, relieving the pressure in his groin. “Nah, not hungry.”

Belle licked a spot of mustard from the corner of her mouth. “Why are you here?”

“To drink.”

“No. Here with me? I didn’t expect to see you again.”

He’d met Belle about three months earlier while having dinner with his friends and family. She kept stealing his attention as she performed onstage, so his gal pal Mia pushed him into Belle’s limelight. The women were best friends. He’d bought Belle a few drinks, and their playful banter led to a night of amazing sex.

Benji bit his tongue. How could he explain? Would she accept an apology?

“Of course, we’d see each other again.” He scratched his cheek. “Your friend and mine are engaged. We would’ve run into each other at Mason and Mia’s wedding.”

God. What had he been thinking? He never should’ve touched Belle. They roamed in the same circle of friends, for fuck’s sake. But really. It wasn’t his fault. How could any hot-blooded man resist her charm and in-your-face attitude?

“Right.” Belle sipped water from her glass. “Who knows when Mia and Mason will tie the knot. They’ve been together for several months but act like it’s been years.”

Benji snagged a fry from her plate and ignored her arched eyebrow. The grease-coated potato slid down his throat easier than the rubbery gourmet chicken he’d eaten for dinner. He took off his coat and popped another fry into his mouth.

She laughed. “What happened to your shirt?”

He grimaced at the stains. “I forgot about that.”

“Ooh, I doubt it will come out.” Belle dipped the tip of her napkin in her water glass, leaned over the table, and dabbed at his formerly white shirt. “Vinegar and club soda might work for a small stain, but this will require bleach. Even then, the shirt will probably end up faded. It’s wine, right?”

“Yeah.” He straightened his dinner jacket across his chest, trying to hide the largest blot.

She settled back and nibbled on her lip.

He wanted to nibble the succulent pink flesh for her, but the last thing he needed was more liquid soaking his clothes and sticking to his skin. At least she was drinking water. “I—um—all right, I’ll be honest. I’ve been casually seeing a woman for a few weeks, but I ended things with her at the French place across the street. She tossed her drink on me.”

“Wow. She got dinner from you. Good for her.”

The cheap shot stabbed him in the gut. “About that. Us, I mean. I’m sorry I acted like an idiot. I never should’ve skipped out on you.” He grasped her hand and thumbed her knuckles in a soft caress.

She pulled back from him and hid her hands under the table. “Most men are jackasses—that’s not breaking news. You just drove the fact home.”

He flinched. “You have no reason to trust me, but do you wanna talk about something? Did those guys at the bar upset you?” He nodded toward her drunk, laughing admirers.

Belle peeked around the booth. “Oh, them?” She smiled back at Benji. “No, I’m fine. I can handle arrogant jerks.”

“You were on the verge of tears when I came over.”

Her forehead creased. “Bull. I had an eyelash stuck in my eye. You know what an eyelash is, right? It hurts like a bitch when it’s trying to blind you.”

Benji drew back. Damn. That brave face was always front and center. He normally steered clear of hurt, angry women, but he wanted Belle naked again. If only he’d patched up her broken heart months earlier. He scoffed. Men like him broke hearts. They didn’t fix them.

I really am a jackass. He sighed heavily as two leather-clad bikers strode into the pub. “Do you come here often? The clientele seems rough.” He reached for another fry.

She smacked his hand. “Keep your paws off unless you wanna fork over some cash.”

He grinned and held up his hands, palms out.

“I stop in every few weeks.” She popped another fry into her mouth. “The people are friendly, and the food is authentic. You should try their shepherd’s pie. Yum. Sometimes I go to shady bars and pubs, but I’m always careful.”

“You shouldn’t go to dangerous places. Anything could happen.”

“I’m a musician. I travel all over Denver and across the state for paying gigs. Bars, lounges, the stage over there”—she nodded toward the small two-foot-high platform in front of the bank of tinted windows—“and I usually go alone. When my friends join me, we make a night of it and stay for hours.”

“God, Belle. You need to take care of yourself first and make money second. Don’t you work for some insurance company?”

“Yeah, but Tintz is my day job. Not my dream.”

“If I ever have to visit you in the hospital, I’ll spank your cute little ass once the doctor releases you.”

Her eyebrow lifted straight to her hairline. “You’ll spank me, huh? I might enjoy that.”

Benji tunneled his hand through his shaggy, chin-length hair, but the flirty smile on her lips calmed his nerves. Mason probably freaked out whenever Mia set foot in a rough-and-tumble bar, and Benji would be damned if he let his woman get away with that shit.

“It’s kinda late. Are you performing?” He glanced at his wristwatch—half-past eight—and scanned the mostly male crowd. “Your man-bashing songs won’t go over well.”

She smirked. “No, but it would be awesome to rock out and see all these men’s mouths drop to the floor. It’s my birthday, so I wanted to treat myself. Mia, Chanel, and Shea—you met Chanel and Shea a few months back—plan to throw me a party this weekend.”

“Yeah, I remember them.” He’d met her friends the same night he met Belle, but neither of those beautiful ladies bewitched him as Belle had. “Happy birthday. How old are you?”

“Bad move. Never ask a woman that.”

“C’mon. Tell me, or I’ll sing the birthday song.”

She tapped her fingers on the tabletop. After a glance around the dining area, she leaned over and whispered, “It’s the big 2-9. I feel so old.”

He laughed as she plopped back in the seat. “Wait until you’re my age.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

Her wide chocolate-brown eyes dazzled. Or was that from the overhead light? “I’m thirty-five, and the downhill progression continues in April.”

“Downhill, huh? We’re both crazy. When we’re eighty, we’ll look back and call ourselves fools for complaining now.”

“Definitely.”

The waitress returned. “How about dessert, luv?”

“No, thanks. I’m good.” Belle dug inside her purse as the other woman ripped the check from her pad.

“I’ll take that.” He grabbed the slip and pulled several bills from his wallet. “Keep the change, ma’am.”

Her tired smile bloomed into a genuine grin. She winked at Belle and left.

“You shouldn’t have done that, Benji.”

He reached over and placed his finger on her petal-soft lips. “It’s not right if the birthday girl pays for her own dinner.” He pulled back before he could stroke her cheek.

“You’re a piece of work.” Belle bit her lip, right where he touched her. Her eyes watered again. She crumpled her napkin and sighed. “I’m sorry. Thanks for paying. You can have some fries now.” Although she pushed the plate to the middle of the table, she grabbed the half-eaten burger and hunkered over it.

“Don’t worry. I won’t steal your burger.” He chuckled and helped Belle finish the fries before he downed the stout.

She chased the last of her burger with her water. “Well, I should head home. Gotta work tomorrow.” She stuffed on her beanie and slid from the seat.

Oh, baby. Her plump ass beat Sandy’s, hands down, especially in those low-rise jeans. Once they donned their coats, they left the pub for the biting wind sweeping down the street. His nose stung from the cold. “I’d like to see you again. Do you have plans this Saturday?”

“Maybe. I don’t know when the girls will throw the party, but it’ll probably be Sunday.”

“Good. I’ll pick you up at your apartment. Let’s say, six o’clock? You still live in East Colfax, right?”

“That’s some way to ask me out on a date—you don’t give me a choice in the matter.” She wrapped the scarf around her neck and pulled a set of keys from her purse. “I enjoyed our talk, but I won’t sleep with you again.”

“No, Belle. I want to get to know you. I—”

“Save it.” She placed two fingers on his mouth.

How could he miss the significance of her two compared to his one?

“We have the same friends, so I’m sure we’ll see each other again, as you said. Maybe we could’ve had something special a few months ago, but I’ve changed. It’s too late.”

His throat tightened. “I understand.” Not. He grasped her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Good night, Belle. Happy birthday again. Drive safe. If you want, I’ll hook you up with some snow chains. You can find directions to my garage online.”

“I know where it’s at,” she snapped, drawing back.

What was that about? Pressure tightened in his shoulders. “Anyway, the roads are slick. Watch out for black ice.” He longed to kiss her, so he pivoted and headed down the sidewalk for his truck instead. He better figure out a game plan to win her back, or was she already too far out of reach?

Chapter Two

“Why, sir, at Tintz House and Auto Insurance, we hold our customers to the highest standard of respect and ourselves with integrity.” Belle rolled her eyes as she spouted a typical bullshit response to the customer’s call-in complaint. After six years with the insurance company, she’d memorized her various speeches and ignored the cues on her computer. “I assure you the claims adjuster will handle your case with the utmost care and—” A dial tone echoed through the receiver of her thin black headset. “Hello? Are you there, sir?”

Belle jabbed the big, red End Call button on the touch-screen computer and ended the recording. “Idiot. Tintz will handle the claim as any corporation would—with its own interest at heart, and yours as a far second.” She couldn’t give a rat’s ass if a snowstorm felled a whole tree on the asshole’s roof, let alone one measly branch that didn’t even do much damage.

“Easy. Dragon Lady’s on the prowl.” Maury ducked his dark head around the partition separating their cubicles and smiled at her. Even though their manager observed their coworkers across the large room, he still whispered. “Hormones acting up again?”

“Yeah. Sometimes I’d rather go postal than drag myself out of bed. This baby will be the death of me.” Belle patted her small bump and rolled toward him in her swivel chair. Her blouse hid the telltale sign, but her slacks, a size larger than normal, fit snug around her waist. “Thank God it’s Friday. I need a break.”

He chuckled. “Promise me one thing—if you go postal, do it two weeks from now. That’s when I’m on vacation.”

“Deal.” They shook hands. A blinking green button on Maury’s computer snagged Belle’s attention, so she nodded at the Call Waiting symbol.

Sighing, Maury rolled back to his desk.

She returned her chair to its rightful place as well, and just in time as Cheryl Calder—also known as the Dragon Lady—neared Belle’s station. After Cheryl headed toward her office, Belle guzzled enough delicious raspberry tea from her thermos to settle her queasy stomach. Eager to stretch her legs, she tossed her headset on the desk with a soft clack and tapped the blue Sign Off button to exit the computer program.

A ten-minute timer flashed on the screen, ticking backward second by second.

She set the timer on her phone to match and then headed to the break room.

“Belle’s over there.” Freda’s voice carried across the workspace.

Damn, now what? Belle paused at the doorway as her coworker pointed in her direction.

A uniformed courier with a long, rectangular-shaped box circled the mass of cubicles. “Belle Hamlin?”

“Yes?”

He handed her the white box tied with a red ribbon and pulled a scanner from his belt. “If you’ll sign, I’ll be on my way.” After she jotted her name on the screen, he left.

She hurried into the empty, sterile-white break room and plopped the box on a table. Freda and a few other women followed her in like a swarm of buzzing bees. Of course they’d have to take their break at the same time she did.

“Open it, Belle.” Freda grinned like a child on Christmas morning. “Hurry before the Dragon Lady roars for us to get back to work.”

Belle winced. Cheryl’s no dragon; she’s just super stressed.

As a three-time mother, Cheryl had firsthand experience with raging hormones and bursting bladders, so she hadn’t fired Belle for snapping at a few customers or putting a call on hold to go pee. In fact, she’d arranged for Belle to have more bathroom breaks than the standard two.

Belle untied the ribbon and opened the lid. Her heart skipped. A dozen long-stemmed red roses. The sweet aroma wafted to her nose.

Her coworkers giggled.

“Look. A card.” Freda pointed at the bottom of the box. “Read it aloud.”

Belle slid the card from the crisp white envelope. A sob clogged her throat. Her knees weakened like jelly, and she plopped into a creaky metal chair.

Freda snatched the card. “Ooh, it’s handwritten. It says—Happy belated birthday. Just thinking about you. Enjoyed Tuesday night. Signed B. Who’s B, Belle? What happened on Tuesday?”

Tears stung her eyes. She wrapped her arms around her middle. Damn you, Benji. Why did you do this?

“Ah, Belle has a boyfriend.” One of the other women clapped. “Spill the details. Is he the baby daddy?”

“Okay, ladies. Back to work,” Cheryl said from behind them. “I’ve checked your timers.”

Belle’s coworkers zoomed out the door like ants fleeing a crumbling anthill.

The manager glanced at her phone that monitored her employees’ breaks. “Take some time to compose yourself. You still have four minutes.”

“Thanks.” Belle stuffed the discarded card in the box as Cheryl left. Trembles coursed through her. She dashed away tears and drew in deep breaths. Better not explode. After she returned to her cubicle, misery shifted to red-hot anger. She hung up on a bitchy customer—better that than cuss the woman out—and gripped the desk as dizziness swamped her.

“Belle, my office.” Cheryl waved her into the corner room.

Ten minutes later, Belle turned off her workstation computer and grabbed her stuff. At least Cheryl didn’t fire her, but going home early when every paycheck counted sucked ass.

Freda and the other gossipmongers looked away as she passed.

Now they gave her breathing room. Figures. Alone in the elevator, she blinked back tears and ignored her surely haggard reflection in the mirrored walls. The spacious lobby threatened to undulate around her as she hurried to the exit. Five feet. Four. One. Finally! Cold air engulfed her. Countless vehicles cluttered the vast lot, several of them nicer than her little bug. A chain-link fence encased the property like a prison.

Belle dropped her gaze as people headed to and from the three-story office building. The wind sweeping through the trees buffeted her as though she needed another beating. Hadn’t Benji’s gift hurt her enough? The keys nearly slipped free as she unlocked the car with shaky hands. Once she settled inside, the colorful smiley-face flowers on the steering wheel cover mocked her. Damn it! She hit the wheel and inadvertently blasted the horn.

A few passersby jumped and frowned at her through the windshield. The don’t-fuck-with-me scowl she leveled on them hurried the strangers along.

She better relax. No way could she drive like this. What had she been thinking, snapping over the flowers? How could she pay rent and support her baby if she lost her job? Go home to Mom and Dad? Hell, no.

She cranked the car and glared at the flower box on the passenger seat. She had to find Benji and set him straight. The heat blowing from the vents warmed her stiff hands, but the block of ice around her heart hardened. How dare he do this? And at her job? Jesus. Once the engine warmed up, she drove across the lot, and the security guard waved her through the open gate.

After Benji had fled the scene from their explosive night together, she checked online for the business he’d told her about and drove by the garage. In his note, he’d promised to call, so she pined for days like a stupid female. Too bad she didn’t have his cell number. Had she contacted him through his work phone—goodbye pride. No way would she admit to tracking him down. Then morning sickness struck, and everything changed—her life, body, hopes, and dreams. She couldn’t afford to waste any more time on Benji and all the what ifs.

What if he cared about me? What if he wanted to be a father to our child?

Tears welled in her eyes again. She slowed the car as the traffic light flashed yellow.

The garage loomed ahead, sandwiched between a gas station and a pizzeria.

“You’re in control.” Belle cleared her throat to steady her voice. “Just tell him you don’t appreciate the flowers. Be nice, keep your chin up, and don’t curse him to the lowest levels of hell like the rotten dog he is. Don’t you dare cry like a wuss.” She drove down the busy road and pulled into the lot.

Four attached garages bordered one side of the lobby, the doors of each slot closed. Smudges and grime marred the flaking blue-and-cream paint. Freshly shoveled snow packed atop blackened snow obstructed a parking spot on each side of the cracked asphalt lot.

She parked next to Benji’s truck with its shiny, black paint gleaming from the sunlight and nearly blinding her. What was it with men and big trucks? Benji sure as hell wasn’t compensating for something since he had a freaking cucumber between his legs. She oughta know. She’d licked and bounced on it. He was definitely all man.

Belle pulled a powder compact from her purse and smoothed out her raccoon eyes. After she fluffed her hair and dabbed gloss on her dry lips, she slung her purse strap onto her shoulder and grabbed the box. One end of the cardboard bent in her viselike grip.

“Stay calm.” She stepped from the car and tightened her coat. Rock salt crunched beneath her ankle boots as she hurried across the lot. The cut-out paper snowflakes and colorful blue streamers taped on the inside of the lobby windows were weird. Not that the designs were weird—the snowflakes were quite pretty—but why in the world would Benji decorate his garage like it was an elementary school classroom?

Heat rushed around her as she entered the lobby. Customers watched some obnoxious TV game show in the waiting area on the right, and the industrial-sized shelves on the left offered a slim selection of tires, hubcaps, and snow chains.

“May I help you?” The tall, lanky man at the checkout counter set aside a stack of papers.

Belle glanced over his head toward the bathrooms and the open office doorway on the far wall. The air in her lungs stilled.

Benji hunched over a large desk and clutched a cordless phone. His thick auburn hair cascaded over his head in disarray, as though he’d tunneled his hand through it too many times. He scribbled on a piece of paper and stared at his computer.

“Ma’am? You okay?”

The clerk’s voice seeped through the pounding in her ears. Red clouded her vision. She stomped around the counter and barreled toward the mechanic.

He jumped back and knocked a clipboard to the floor with a clatter.

She barged into the cramped office. “Who the fuck do you think you are? Why did you send me these?”

Benji’s jaw slacked. His bushy eyebrows shot up like mini red-tree mountains.

“Yeah, I gotta go,” he said to the person on the phone. “Make sure you send the shipment today. I need it by Wednesday morning, or I’ll have an upset customer.” He pushed a button to end the call and tossed the device on his messy desk.

“Hi, Belle.” He leaned back in his swivel chair and linked his fingers together on his stomach. “You’re gorgeous when you’re mad.”

That did it. She flung the box top across the room, snatched the long stems, and thrashed the flowers on top of his head.

Lifting his arms, he leapt to his feet. The chair slammed into the paneled wall behind him and rattled some certificates. As she hauled back to smack him again, he swiped the roses from her grasp. The bent stems and bruised petals fell across his desk and on the floor.

“Damn it, woman. What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“After the crappy way you treated me, you have no right to mosey your way back into my life. Flowers won’t fix what you dragged through the mud.”

“Close the door, Belle. We’ll talk.” Benji fisted his hands. “Now.”

“Why did you—”

“The. Door.” He bit out the words.

Tension lanced through her. She turned, scowled at the bug-eyed clerk, and slammed the door shut so hard the frame vibrated. She whipped back around.

“I never meant to hurt you, Belle.”

“Of course not. You’re just a man. Why should you think about your actions?”

“Like you’re one to talk.” He picked up a rose, sniffed it, and tossed it aside. “I’m lucky I bought the thornless kind.”

“What did you think I’d do—kiss you and spread my legs?” She braced her hands on her hips. “We both wanted sex that night, but you chose not to pursue anything more. That’s fine. Whatever. But you can’t change your mind so long after the fact. I’ve moved on. I’m a different person. I have responsibilities you can’t even dream of.”

“I run my own business. Responsibility and me? We’re tight.”

“Maybe so, but you don’t understand mine.”

“Tell me. What’s going on in your stubborn head for you to attack me with flowers?”

“Attack you?” Tears spilled from her eyes as the furious red haze in her vision faded. Her cheeks heated. “Oh my God. I’ve lost it. I’m a freakin’ psycho.” She rushed to the door.

He chased after her and flipped her around. Scant inches separated them as he gripped her wrist in a light but firm hold and pinned her against the wooden barrier.

Air sliced up her throat. The heat emanating from his tall, muscular frame caressed her like silk ribbons. How could she still desire him? Her throat tightened, choking off her apology. The last of her strength evaporated. She clutched him close and cried.

Fool! She shouldn’t do this, but he felt so good. A rich coalescence of musk, oil, and evergreen-scented cologne—or was that deodorant?—teased her senses. She fisted his T-shirt and grasped the hard, flexing muscles in his back. She needed his support, his concern, his time, but it wasn’t real.

“It’s all right,” he cooed, stroking her hair.

Belle sniffled and drew back. Fine creases bracketed his deep ocean-blue eyes. She could drown in those eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a wreck lately. The flowers are lovely. No one has ever sent me roses.” She dabbed her coat collar at her cheeks. Who gave a damn about makeup smears? That’s what dry cleaning was for.

“Not all the stems are broken. You can take them back.” He wiped away a tear. “I made a mistake when I didn’t call you. Have dinner with me tonight? I’d like to start over.”

“I can’t.”

“At least tell me why you’re so emotional. I’ll help if I can. Are you free tomorrow? We could see a movie.”

“I’m pregnant. It’s yours.”

He stepped back, blanching white.

Oh, God. Why did she say that? Bile raked her throat. She ran from the room, leaving her pride behind.

Chapter Three

Benji paced from wall to wall in the office. Anxiety prickled his skin and churned his stomach. Belle was pregnant? How? He’d used a fucking condom. Was the baby even his? She probably bed-hopped all the time. That didn’t sit well with him. She was a little wild, but no way would she trap a man who wasn’t the dad. Unless she wanted his money or business. Goddamn it. What a nightmare.

His assistant manager, Ollie, cracked open the door. “Hey, Ben. You got a phone call. Some woman is demanding to speak with you. I put her on hold.”

“The woman from earlier?” Benji stared at the roses he’d stuffed back into the box. Please, God. Let the caller be Belle.

“The crazy, crying lady who decorated your hair and office with flowers? Nah, I don’t think so.” Ollie smirked. His mop of dark hair dangled over his eyes.

Benji groaned. He’d never live this down.

Ollie had pushed his way into the office after Belle left, and he doubled over in laughter at the petals stuck in Benji’s hair.

“Thanks, man. I got it.” Benji grabbed the phone from his desk and pressed a button as Ollie left. “Ben’s Auto Repair, Benji speaking. How may I help you?”

“About damn time. I need you, Benji. Please, help me. I’m in trouble. Like, big trouble.” The words rushed out in a breathless stream.

He froze. His sick stomach dropped to his feet. Fucking hell. It was his sister. “How did you get this number, Meghan?” He skirted the desk and collapsed in his chair.

“Online, from your website. Come pick me up.”