Adversaries and Lovers Read Online Free Page B

of pastures and vineyards and fields was really quite pleasant, and although she’d never admit it to Ben, she was actually enjoying herself. With the wind whipping about her shoulders and caressing her legs, she felt as if she were one with the landscape through which they were passing, not an intruder. And Ben was a much more conservative driver than she had expected. She'd pegged him as a chance-taking, daredevil.
    Closing her eyes, she inhaled the fruity aroma of vine-ripened blackberries that were growing in great abundance along the roadside. She could almost smell Grandma's berry pies bubbling in the oven. Grandma never made just one pie. She didn't want to be caught short when Frank and Dora and Thelma and the others popped in. They'd been stopping by each other's places for over fifty years now, and it galled Kate to think that it all might end because of Ben.
    The exhilaration she'd felt moments before vanished, replaced by renewed anger with the man who could turn Grandma's world upside down. Releasing her hold on Ben, she rested her hands on her thighs. Whatever it took, she would convince him to build his office complex somewhere else. But how does one get through to a man who'd probably never experienced any misfortune, a man who went after what he wanted with a vengeance, and with no inkling as to how many lives his venture would change...
    "Lean into me and hold on tight," Ben said. "We're about to leave the pavement."
    Kate looked around Ben to where the main road made a sharp turn, and straight ahead, a narrow dirt road cut between tall evergreens and disappeared into the dusk of dense forest, a scene bringing to mind Red Riding Hood and the wolf. "I really don't want to—"
    "Stop arguing and hold on!" The motorcycle left the pavement, and as it bounced along the uneven road, Kate found herself leaning heavily against Ben, her arms wrapped around him, her face pressed to his back. She'd been aware of a firm athletic build when she'd visited his office, but she hadn't imagined how rock-hard a body could be. Until now. But then, when a man spends his days playing tennis and riding motorcycles, a lean hard body isn't so remarkable.
    The engine throbbed in a low drone as the motorcycle cruised between stately evergreens that rose from a forest floor covered in lacy ferns and tangles of lush greenery. Around a bend, they came to a clearing and rolled to a halt. "Here we are," Ben announced.
    Kate raised her head from Ben's back and stared in shocked surprise at a rustic octagonal dwelling that seemed to be a living, breathing being with a character all its own. Obviously the work of a skilled craftsman. She climbed off the motorcycle and removed her helmet, and Ben doffed his helmet and gloves and stood beside her. "It's made from salvaged materials and odds and ends that came floating down the river," he explained. "The timbers are hand-hewn, and I rescued the doors and windows from demolition jobs."
    "You?" Kate found it hard, if not impossible, to imagine Ben rummaging through the tumbled-down remains of old buildings while searching for scrap materials. "You must have driven your architect mad."
    "On the contrary, without this project I probably would've gone mad,” Ben said, hands on his hips as he looked at his house. “I started it at a time in my life when things were... rough."
    Kate looked at him, incredulous. "You built it?"
    Ben nodded. "Hoisted every beam, split every shingle, drove every nail."
    Kate eyed a scrap-metal artwork that was perched on top of a post. With its gas can body, and motorcycle-fender wings, and high arched neck made from the bendable spout of a gas can, it was a charming rendition of an awkward gull coming in for a landing. Another piece, a metal stick figure on a motorcycle, a work made from nuts and bolts and odd pieces of metal, and with an oil can sitting on top of the figure's head, sat off the side of the steps leading to the front entry. "And the metal art?" she