he’d never known a woman like you.”
A feeling of warmth slid through her. “He really said that?”
Sage nodded. “He couldn’t stop singing your praises.”
“Of course at the time, he was high as a kite on drugs,” Annie added.
Maggie just smiled. “I’ve only seen the two of you together once, but Ben was clearly protective of you. Considering he thinks women are made strictly to satisfy his appetites, you’re definitely special. Of course if you ask him, he’ll probably deny it.”
“What will I deny?” Ben asked, strolling into the kitchen, looking ridiculously sexy in an old drab green T-shirt and jeans.
“None of your business,” Annie said, and Ben grinned.
All three women just stared.
“What?” he said.
“You don’t grin,” Annie said. “You’re the Iceman.”
His grin turned into a scowl. “What are you doing here, anyway? You come by to torture Claire?”
Annie grunted. “I imagine you can handle that all by yourself.”
“We just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” Sage put in diplomatically.
Ben ran a hand unconsciously over his side. “Better every day. I’m coming into the office tomorrow morning. I want to work with Sol, do some brainstorming, see if we can think of another way to pick up Bridger’s trail.”
Annie’s voice softened. “You’ll find your boy, Ben. I know you will.”
Ben just nodded.
“You got a picture?” Annie asked.
Claire was surprised when he pulled out his wallet and slid out a photo of Sam. “I found it in an album Claire had in her living room.” He turned in her direction. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“I don’t mind,” she said softly, feeling a stab of the old guilt for giving Bridger a reason to want revenge and not protecting the boy.
Ben held the photo out to the women.
“He looks just like you,” Annie said.
Sage studied the picture. “Same black hair and those Iceman eyes. Sam’s a very handsome boy.”
Maggie took the photo. “He’s smiling. He looks like a happy kid. You’ll find him, Ben, and bring him home.”
A muscle tightened in his jaw as he took the photo from Maggie’s hand and slid it back into his wallet. “I need to get back to work. Thanks for coming by.”
The women watched him disappear down the hall.
“He loves the kid already,” Annie said.
Claire’s throat tightened. “I know.” She shook her head. “It’s my fault Sam’s missing. I should have told him how much I cared about him. I tried to adopt him myself, but the judge wouldn’t have it. I should have convinced him to give me time to work things out and find him a loving home.”
Sage squeezed her hand. “You did your best, Claire.”
She swallowed. “I promised Laura I’d take care of him. She didn’t think Sam’s father would want him, but I should have gone to Ben sooner, found out for myself. I let all of them down.” Tears swam in her eyes.
Maggie leaned over and hugged her. “You’ll find him,” she said. “You’ll bring Sam home.”
She nodded, wiped away the wetness. “We just... We need a clue, something that will tell us where to look. I’m coming into the office with Ben tomorrow. He won’t like it, but I’m coming anyway.”
The women exchanged glances.
“You’re coming anyway,” Annie repeated, a glint in her shrewd brown eyes. “Even if Ben doesn’t want you to.”
“He can’t always have things his way.”
Annie grinned. Sage and Maggie smiled.
Was Ben really that hard a man? But Claire knew that he was.
The women finished their tea and headed back to work, leaving Claire alone in the kitchen. As she thought back over the visit, she started smiling. She felt as if she’d been battered by a whirlwind and yet she hadn’t missed their concern. She really liked Ben’s friends. And she was beginning to think they liked her. Life was just full of surprises.
If they found—when they found Sam, she corrected—she had a big surprise in store for Ben.
Eighteen
“I’m taking you to dinner.” Ben walked out of his bedroom at six o’clock that evening, looking gorgeous in beige pants, a soft blue sweater that set off his eyes and a navy blue sport coat. “If you don’t have something pretty to wear, we’ll buy you something on the way.”
Claire ignored the little tug of heat that slid into her stomach. She stood up from the kitchen table, where she had been working on her iPad, catching up on email and checking with her friend Mary Wilson on the boy Ben had rescued.
Mary’s last email had said that Ryan was living with a family she had personally chosen