I Married a Master(54)
Author: Melanie Marchande

"Remember that conversation we had about boundaries?" he asked me, softly.

"No," I said, smiling.

This was totally harmless, right? What could possibly go wrong? We were only about to spend a week together, probably in a romantic bed and breakfast in the mountains somewhere, probably with just one bed, because otherwise how would that look?

"Just to be clear," said Ben, after a moment’s silence. "Are we talking about killing me, or…some other option?"

"Let’s just see where the night takes us," I said, archly, loving the look on his face.

He slumped a little in his seat. "You’ve really got to stop this," he said. "A man can only take so much."

"Oh, I’m sure you can take a whole lot." I grinned. "Mr. Perfect Billionaire who’s always in control."

"Nobody’s perfect," he said. "For instance, I’ve got a snaggletooth."

He bared his teeth in a smile and pointed, to demonstrate. I had to laugh. One of his canines was slightly askew, now that he’d invited my scrutiny – just enough to prove that he hadn’t been genetically created in a lab. "Yeah, wow, it must be very tough for you. I bet all the supermodels can barely look at you, Elephant Man."

He actually looked a little bit taken aback, like he’d shared something he didn’t tell most people. I almost felt bad as he cleared his throat, frowning slightly.

"I just mean, it’s not a big deal," I explained. "I never noticed it. People are always like that, with their so-called ‘flaws.’ Nobody can see them but you."

"I guess," he said. "But it doesn’t really matter, does it? Either way, I act like the guy with the snaggletooth. People might not see it, but they see the self-consciousness. I’ve gotten better at hiding it, but that doesn’t mean it’s gone."

It took all of my strength not to laugh out loud. The idea that someone like Ben, who could have made his fortune in underwear modeling if he hadn’t been born a billionaire, was insecure about one tooth – it was pretty hilarious.

But to him, it was real.

"Why don’t you get it fixed?" I suggested, gently. "Not that you need to, just…maybe you’d feel better."

He made a face. "You should already know the answer to that. I hate dentists. Orthodontists. Whatever. If they want to fuck with my teeth for a living, I don’t want to know them. Unless, of course, I’m in pain, then we can make a deal."

"Fair enough." I crossed my legs. "Well, I like it."

He raised his eyebrows slightly. "Yeah?" he said, softly, looking like he actually believed me.

"Yeah," I said. "It’s got character."

Rolling his eyes, he took the last sip of his drink. "Oh, sure. Okay. Thanks a lot for that."

"I’m serious," I insisted, surprised to find that I was. Now that he’d pointed it out, it was part of the whole package that was Ben – and if I was being honest, probably my favorite part. He was just too damn perfect otherwise, but with the snaggletooth he looked…cute. Approachable. I just couldn’t figure out a way to say that, without offending him.

Suddenly, I realized that was why so many of his smiles were lopsided. He was trying to cover that tooth. Like he actually thought that it mattered to people.

"If you just displayed your tattoos all the time, you know, nobody would be looking at your face," I suggested, half-jokingly.

"And you claim to be so vanilla," he said, reaching down to unfasten his cuffs. "Little Miss Tattoo Fetish. Here." He started rolling up his sleeves. "You can look, but don’t touch. Like a museum."

"No flash photography?" I grinned. This was the closest I’d seen them, and I found myself trying to focus on the individual elements of the design. "Are there stories, or is it just art?"

"Yes, and yes," he said. "But the stories don’t matter anymore."

I wondered about that. Slowly, just because he’d told me not to, I reached out and traced a little spiral design with my fingertip. "What’s this?"

"It’s a Triskelion," he said. "It’s an ancient symbol. Has a lot of meanings." His eyes met mine. "You’re not very good at following rules, are you?"

"It’s like a Wet Paint sign," I confessed. "Somebody says don’t, I just want to do it more."

Ben smiled, closing his eyes and letting his head rest on the back of the seat. "You and I could have so much fun together. I love a good battle of wills."

I didn’t know what to say to that.

Chapter Twenty-One

Jenna

The sign said, WELCOME TO THE FINGER LAKES WINE COUNTRY.

Upstate New York. Of course. Maddy had spoken very highly of the wine that came from these regions, but I’d never been. It was breathtakingly beautiful, dappled sunlight glowing on the water, with a lovely little cabin all to ourselves.

The gravel crunched beneath my feet as I walked up to the rustic front door. I wanted to admire the place, but I only had eyes for the man standing on the porch. In his three-piece suit, still minus the jacket, with those sleeves rolled up so enticingly to show off the wildness he hid from the world, he looked like a wet dream.

Any willpower I had left was fading fast.

Inside, there was a beautifully appointed kitchen with a variety of wine bottles already laid out on the counter. Ben went to them immediately, selecting one from the middle and examining the label. "What do you think, a nice Syrah? Or is it too early for proper drinking?"

"It’s never too early to drink in wine country," I said, hunting for stemware. Once I found it, and satisfied myself that it wasn’t dusty, I set out the glasses for him, and he poured.

I should’ve eaten something – a small snack, at least, and there was definitely a basket of crackers or something in the corner, but I was standing very close to Ben and suddenly I didn’t want to go anywhere.

"It’s good, isn’t it?" He swirled his glass. "I don’t know that much about wine, but I think it’s good."

"Well, it’s an acquired taste," I said. "Luckily, I’ve acquired a taste for much worse. So this is quite nice."

He chuckled. "Well, my taste can’t really be trusted either. I’m adaptable." He took another sip. "Eager to please, you might say."

"Oh, sure, that’s you all over." I rolled my eyes. He was obviously driving at something, but I wasn’t going to let him get there too easily.

"There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me," he said, resting his hand on the counter. It was the one with the big silver watch on it, and the tattoo that I’d so recently fondled. "I wouldn’t rush to judgment so quickly, until you have all the facts."