Wild for Him

Chapter Three

CHRISTINE followed Ben inside his apartment and waited as he locked and bolted the door after her. The extra bit of security was a direct reminder that it wasn't all fun and games between her and her bodyguard, even if she'd had a blast playing basketball and showing the boys, and Ben, that she wasn't the prissy girly-girl they'd thought she was.

"Go ahead and make yourself comfortable," Ben said, waving a hand toward the small living area of the apartment. "And help yourself to something to drink in the kitchen. I think there's some bottled water in the fridge, along with Gatorade and beer, if you feel like drinking and belching like one of the boys," he teased.

"No beer for me," she said with a shake of her head. "That's where I draw the line and prefer a froufrou drink, like an apple martini or piña colada."

His smile was slow, deliberate, and combined with his still tousled, sweaty outdoor appearance made him look sexy as hell. "Sorry, but I'm fresh out of fruity umbrella drinks."

"Ha-ha," she replied with a sassy grin of her own. "Go take your shower, smartaleck."

He placed his keys on the counter that separated the living room from the kitchen. "I only need about twenty minutes to shower, dress, and pack a bag, so I shouldn't be long."

"Ahhh, the joys of being a man." She sighed enviously. "A quick shower, no angsting over what to wear, and no preplanning what to pack for your stay."

"Being a man does have its perks," he agreed. "By the way, what do I need to wear tonight? Does the club have a specific dress code?"

"Jeans and a nice shirt are fine."

He looked relieved that she hadn't asked him to don a suit and tie. "Perfect. That's just my style."

She watched him head down the short hall and nearly groaned when he pulled his damp shirt off just before he turned into the bedroom. She caught a quick glimpse of his smooth, muscled back, and that was more than enough to make her stomach clench with the desire to see what all that hard, honed flesh felt like sliding against her fingertips.

He didn't close the bedroom door, but a moment later she heard a different door shut, then the sound of running water, indicating he was about to get into the shower… completely naked.

Realizing just how dry her mouth had become, she walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. There wasn't a whole lot inside-mainly take-out containers, a carton of milk, and the drinks he'd mentioned earlier. Definitely a sign of a bachelor. Bypassing the beer and Gatorade, she grabbed a bottle of water. Strolling back into the living room, she twisted the cap off the bottle and swallowed a good amount of the cool water as she took in his sparse furnishings.

A single reclining chair in a dark brown leather material, worn from plenty of use, occupied one side of the room. An old, scarred wooden side table was situated nearby with a few Soldier of Fortune magazines stacked neatly on top. Against the opposite wall was what appeared to be Ben's one main indulgence-a large, flat-screen TV tucked inside a basic entertainment center.

The apartment looked like he'd just moved in but hadn't had the time, or the inclination, to decorate or give the place any special touches of his own. The off-white walls were completely bare, and except for a clock on the wall there weren't any knickknacks anywhere to be seen. The only things she saw that she'd even consider remotely personal were two small framed photographs set on one of the shelves in the wall unit.

She found herself gravitating toward those pictures to take a better, closer look. Surprisingly, they weren't snapshots of family. The first photo was a group of men standing together, surrounded by canvas tents in a desolate desert setting. All of them were dressed in military fatigues and sporting short buzz cuts, Ben included. The men looked tired and weary, but the comradery between them was a visible thing.

She assumed the picture had been taken a few years ago, when he'd been in the service. She remembered her father mentioning that Ben was an ex-Marine who'd served in the Iraq War but she didn't know anything about his time in the military, or what his duties had entailed.

Taking another drink of her water, she glanced at the second photograph of Ben and a pretty, dark-haired woman, completely unprepared for the depth of emotion so evident between the couple. Both of them were dressed in fatigues, with the same dry, barren stretch of desert as their background. The woman was hugging Ben around the waist, a wide smile on her lips as she looked up at him with a wealth of love and adoration shining in her eyes. Ben was laughing at something she must have said or done, but there was no denying that he was equally as smitten with her.

"Oh, wow," Christine breathed, shocked at the realization that Ben might have a steady girlfriend. One who might even be living with him, though she doubted that by the lack of feminine presence in the apartment. But the fact that Ben openly displayed such an intimate picture of himself and the woman said a lot about his feelings for her.

Not sure what to think, she dragged her fingers through her hair, wincing as a few tangled strands tugged on her scalp. All she knew was that if Ben was in a serious relationship, then she had absolutely no business flirting with him the way she had been, and vice versa.

"You're awfully quiet out there," Ben called from the other room. "Are you doing okay?"

He was obviously done with his shower. "I'm good." She glanced at the clock on the wall. "And you're down to about twelve minutes. Are you still on schedule?"

He chuckled, and she felt a slice of guilt for enjoying the low, husky sound when there was a chance of him having a girlfriend.

"I'm way ahead of schedule," he said as she heard a shuffling sound coming from the bedroom. "All I have to do is finish getting dressed and pack a few things, and I'll be ready to go."

Still troubled by that picture, she finished her water, tossed the bottle in the kitchen trash, and gave Ben another two full minutes before wandering down the hallway to his bedroom. She had to know if he had a significant other in his life, and if he did, she needed to change her behavior toward him drastically. She'd never poached on another woman's territory, and she wasn't about to start now. She'd been on the other side of that scenario, and it hadn't felt good at all.

She stopped in the bedroom doorway and leaned a shoulder against the frame. As good as her intentions were, she wasn't prepared to find Ben looking so gorgeous and sexy. He had his back to her as he stuffed a few items into a duffle bag, giving her a few quick moments to take in his appearance. Fresh from his shower, his hair was still damp, though he had run a comb through the strands. He'd pulled on a pair of new looking jeans, but he hadn't gotten around to putting on a shirt yet, and tearing her gaze away from the mesmerizing ripple and flow of his incredible muscles as he moved was a difficult thing to do.

He zipped up his bag, then reached for a blue chambray shirt he'd laid out on the bed. As he shrugged into the garment, he turned around, saw her standing in the doorway, and gave her a half-grin.

"Did you come to check up on me?" he asked as he strolled toward the only dresser in the room.

He'd left the shirt open and unbuttoned, treating her to a delectable view of his abs, which were just as toned as the rest of his body.

"I just wanted to make sure you weren't wasting time."

"Trust me, I'm a very efficient, no fuss kind of guy."

She watched him open a drawer and withdraw a semiautomatic and a black holster. Even though she didn't like the thought of him carrying a weapon, she knew and understood that it was all part of the job. She was also grateful that he preferred to dress casually, rather than wear what seemed like the prerequisite suit and tie that most of the security agents in her father's employ wore while on duty-which also made their presence as bodyguards openly known.

As Ben clipped the holster onto the waistband of his jeans and tucked the actual holder just inside his pants to conceal the fact that he was armed and dangerous despite his laid-back appearance, she cast a quick glance around his bedroom. The furnishings were just as meager as the rest of the apartment, with a bed and the single dresser, leading her to believe, once again, that he'd just recently moved in. It was the only explanation that made sense for the lack of all those personal, intimate trappings that made a house a real home.

She brought her gaze back to Ben, both disappointed and relieved to find him buttoning up his shirt and covering up that magnificent chest of his so she was no longer tempted to stare at all that bare, naked flesh.

"I take it you haven't lived here long," she commented.

He lifted a dark brown brow. "What makes you say that?"

She shrugged. "The place looks deserted, like you just moved in."

"Actually, I've lived in this apartment for almost two years." Leaving the tails of his shirt untucked, he sat on the edge of his bed, pulled on a pair of socks, then slid his feet into brown leather loafers. "As for the place looking deserted, I've never needed much. That, and the military has a way of making your life as compact as possible. Most of the time, all your personal effects are what you can fit into a duffle or backpack, and I guess I just got used to living that way."

That made sense, yet in a way it made him seem so detached and a bit of a loner, as though he could pick up and move at any time with little effort. "Does your family live nearby?"

He hesitated, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. "No."

His tone of voice didn't encourage further questions, but there was something about the sudden change in his entire demeanor that prompted Christine to ask, "Where does the rest of your family live?"

"Like you, I'm an only child," he said, his tone holding a shade of impatience. "My father passed away a few years ago, and as for my mother… I have no idea where she is, nor do I care."

He was so matter-of-fact about his parents, and while she was curious to know more about his past and what had caused that twinge of bitterness she'd detected toward his mother, he stood up, grabbed his duffle and what appeared to be a computer carry case, then glanced at his wristwatch.

"I'm ready to go with four minutes to spare," he said. "Even after your little interrogation."

There was just enough humor in his voice to let her know that he wasn't upset with her, even if her questions had brought back what seemed like some unpleasant memories for him.

He passed by her on the way out the bedroom door to the living room, smelling like soap and warm male essence. She followed behind, then waited as he checked the answering machine on the kitchen counter for messages. Again, her gaze strayed to the pictures in the wall unit, specifically the one with Ben and the smiling, happy brunette.

God, she was such a glutton for punishment today. After their exchange in the bedroom about his parents, she ought to leave well enough alone, but she just couldn't walk out of his apartment without knowing about the woman in the photo.

"Ben?"

He grabbed his car keys from the counter and turned toward her, clearly ready to leave. "Yeah?"

She bit her bottom lip, her stomach suddenly churning with a bout of nerves. "I'm sorry, but I really need to ask you something."

Shifting his stance, he adjusted the strap of the computer case over his shoulder. "Okay."

She exhaled a deep breath and let the words out before her fortitude deserted her. "That woman in the picture with you." she said, indicating the shelf with the two separate photographs, "is she your girlfriend?"

His gaze slid past her to the framed print, a distinct pang of sadness etching his features. "She was my fiancée."

His answer, said in the past tense, confused her. If he was no longer engaged, then why did he have such a loving, affectionate photo of the two of them so openly displayed? "Was your fiancée?"

Those golden brown eyes, when they met hers again, were filled with a barely perceptible grief that made him appear, for the very briefest of seconds, raw and exposed. "She died in the Iraq War four years ago."

Startled by such an unexpected reply, her eyes widened and it took her a moment to shake off her shock and respond. "I'm so sorry, Ben," she breathed, her heart hurting for him.

"Yeah, me, too," he said gruffly.

He glanced away, but not before she caught a glimpse of a deeper torment and guilt she didn't fully understand. In the span of just a half an hour, she'd seen a whole different side to Ben, a man with many facets and a past devastated with loss on many levels. Beneath his charming smiles and easygoing nature, there was a wealth of personal pain and secrets he kept to himself, and was very reluctant to share. Not that she could blame him.

She wondered what had happened in Iraq, and how his fiancée had died, but didn't dare ask.

He started toward the door. "Come on," he said, sounding tired and worn out, as if she'd put him through an emotional wringer in a very short span of time. "Let's hit the road. We wouldn't want you to be late for your date tonight."

He was back to teasing her, and she smiled, grateful that he hadn't held her inquisitive questions against her.

CHRISTINE was nearly finished getting dressed to leave for her evening out when her cell phone rang. Still in her bedroom with Ben waiting for her out in the living room, she dug her BlackBerry from her purse. Recognizing the name on the ID display as Craig Crosby, the owner of Envy, she answered the call.

"Hey, Craig," she said as she padded over to her dresser in her bare feet. She still had a few more things to do before she was completely ready, and they were easy enough to finish while she talked on the phone.

"Hi, Christy." His greeting was, as always, spoken in a low, husky tone that made her all too aware of his interest in her. "I'm just calling to see if you're still planning on coming to Envy tonight?"

"Absolutely." She rummaged through her jewelry box until she found the pair of gold chandelier earrings she wanted to wear with her outfit. "I'm meeting Ronnie and Madison for drinks in about an hour," she said of her two best friends.

"Great. I'll make sure to let the bartender know that I'll be picking up the tab for you and your friends for the evening."

She pushed one of the French wire earrings into her lobes, then switched the phone to the other ear to repeat the process. The gold, shimmering links brushed her bared shoulders in a cool, sensual caress that made her feel sexy and flirty.

"Craig, that really isn't necessary." In fact, she preferred that he didn't pay for her drinks, because he did it way too often and it was beginning to make her feel a bit awkward.

"I know, but I want to," he said, dismissing her attempt to refuse his generous offer. "Consider it a perk of being good friends with the owner."

A friend who'd given her enough signals to let her know he was more than willing to take their amicable relationship to a more personal level-despite the numerous times she'd gently turned down his request to go on a date. The man didn't give up easily, and even though she'd tried to let him know by her words and actions that she didn't have any romantic feelings for him, he continued to try to persuade her in little, subtle ways. And his persistence made for an uncomfortable situation for her, considering how essential he'd been in helping her to build her new business.

Keeping things cordial but warm and friendly between them was a fine line that was becoming more difficult for her to walk.

"You've done more than enough for me, Craig," she said, truly grateful for all his referrals and contacts and the way he'd given her business such a huge boost. "I wouldn't have half my clientele without your recommendations. You've been more effective than any ad I could have placed."

He chuckled at the compliment. "It's nothing, Christy. I want to see you succeed. And so far, judging by the comments and feedback I've heard around town, you're creating quite a name for yourself in Chicago as an exceptional event planner."

Smiling, she slipped a wide gold bracelet onto her wrist. "I'm working on it." Thanks to him, she was booked for some very upscale events that would put her name and business in front of a lot more influential people.

"In fact, The Big Event is doing so well that you're making Leanne Baker green with envy."

Cringing at the mention of her rival's name, Christine sat down on one of the plush chairs in her room and reached for the pair of black, suede Manolo Blahnik boots she'd left nearby. She'd known Leanne for years since they'd grown up in the same social circles. Christine had learned very quickly that while Leanne had perfected a sugar-sweet persona on the outside, beneath that I-want-to-be-your-best-friend façade lurked a bitter, spiteful woman who had mastered the fine art of backstabbing or sabotaging anyone who threatened her standing as one of Chicago's premier night club event promoters.

Leanne currently had Christine in her evil sights.

Christine didn't consider herself, or her flourishing business, a direct threat to Leanne's chosen profession, but the other woman clearly did. Christine had heard through the ever-present grapevine that Leanne resented the fact that Craig had taken Christine under his wings in terms of supplying her with all the right contacts to help build her business, when Leanne had been attempting for years to get Craig's attention, along with his support-with only a few second-rate referrals to show for her efforts.

"Speaking of Leanne, she'll be at Envy tonight," Craig said. "She's hosting a bachelorette gig at the club."

"Thanks for the heads-up," she replied ruefully as she pushed her foot into one of the soft suede boots, then zipped up the side all the way to just below her knee. "I'll be sure to keep my distance."

He laughed again, obviously amused by the rift and clash of personalities between herself and Leanne. "By the way, since you'll be at the club tonight I was hoping to steal a few moments alone with you to discuss some of the details for your birthday bash here at Envy."

His request to meet with her alone caused her to hesitate before answering, because when it was just the two of them, without anyone else around, that's when he poured on all the charm and tried to finagle a date out of her-even if it was in the guise of having a drink together.

Tucking the phone between her ear and shoulder, she pulled on the other heeled boot. Since Craig was hosting her twenty-seventh birthday party at Envy the day after the election, and he was inviting a few high-profile contacts for her to meet, she couldn't very well tell him no. "Umm, sure."

"Great," he said enthusiastically. "I'll see you tonight, then."

After saying good-bye, she disconnected the call and sighed, not quite sure what to do about Craig. He really was a nice guy and he'd been a great friend over the past few months, but she had no idea how to handle his growing interest in her, especially when he'd been so integral to making her event planning business such a quick success. At forty-one years old, not only was Craig much older than her, but she just wasn't attracted to him in that sort of way.

Most important, she wasn't looking to jump into another serious relationship after what had happened with Jason. She was experiencing her first taste of real freedom and independence, and enjoying both-she wasn't ready to give up the life that was finally her own for any man.

Standing, she walked back to the bed and dropped her BlackBerry into her purse, then headed over to the vanity and selected a rosy pink lip gloss to use for the evening. Dealing with Craig would be so much simpler and easier if she was casually dating someone, a guy who could accompany her to Envy, and one she could use as a decoy to make Craig believe she was involved with someone else so he wouldn't continue to ask her out.

She swiped the shimmering gloss across her lips, her mind immediately thinking of the gorgeous, sexy man sitting out in her living room who was all hers for the next three weeks. Sure, he'd been hired as her bodyguard, but she couldn't think of a better guy to act as her boyfriend, which would also eliminate him trailing beside her and looking like a security agent, which she hated. As a bonus, they wouldn't have to pretend that they were attracted to one another-the awareness and desire between them spoke for itself.

She lightly spritzed her neck and shoulders with her favorite vanilla fragrance, then gave her appearance one last check in the long mirror on the wall.

Using Ben to put an end to Craig's pursuit was the perfect plan. Now she just had to convince her bodyguard to play along.

FIGURING he had time to kill while Christine was getting ready, Ben set up his laptop computer on her coffee table in the living room and decided to get a head start on typing up his daily security report, which would then be uploaded to the Delacroix case file for Nathan, or any of Elite's partners, to review at any time. Today's report was all basic information so far, mainly outlining his meeting with Nathan, what the assignment entailed, and later he'd follow up with anything interesting or pertinent that happened tonight at Envy.

There was no reason to mention this afternoon's basketball game where Christine showed off her impressive skills and kicked his ass, or the discussion they'd had at his place about his parents and his fiancée, Kim. None of that mattered in the context of his security report, yet it was the too-personal conversations at his place that he couldn't get out of his head.

Out of the handful of women he'd been with since moving to Chicago a few years ago, he'd never brought any of them to his apartment, and now he knew why-because women were inquisitive, emotional creatures who needed too many explanations on why he lived his life the way he did. They wanted to know about his family and his past and everything else in between, and he'd made it a point since leaving the military to keep his private life private, and that meant keeping his place off-limits.

His personal tactics worked well for him and he managed to keep his own emotions untouched. He'd purposefully kept his affairs with women brief and all about physical pleasure. He never let them get close enough to care, to ask about his parents, his mother, or the fiancée he hadn't been able to save from a roadside ambush in Iraq.

Ben scrubbed a hand along his jaw and exhaled a deep breath. Four years after Kim's death, the pain of losing her had dulled, but the guilt had not abated one bit. No, he feared that deep, painful remorse would be something he'd bear on his conscience for the rest of his life.

How was it that in just the span of half an hour Christine had hit on all those hot topics that no other woman had even come close to realizing about him? And why had he given up as much information as he had to Christine? True, he'd kept much of the ugly truths to himself, but she'd still managed to extract way too much out of him.

He had no answers that made sense, and he refused to dwell on that conversation with Christine any longer. Saving the security report in his Word file, he shut down the laptop computer and leaned back on the wide, comfortable couch. Clasping his hands behind his head, he forced himself to relax and rerouted his thoughts to something more mundane, like the contrast of his basic, barely furnished apartment with Christine's beautifully decorated house.

When they'd arrived at her place, he'd been pleasantly surprised by the modest size of the house in an upscale neighborhood that boasted two-story monstrosities and enormous, custom-built homes. In comparison, Christine's house was a small, three-bedroom structure that was perfect for someone who was single and lived alone.

Since he needed to know the exact layout of the place for security reasons, she'd given him a tour of each and every room, as well as showing him the guest bedroom where he'd be staying for the next several weeks. Her master bedroom, he noted, was just down the hall from where he'd be sleeping.

In the two years he'd lived in his apartment, he hadn't bothered to do anything to really make the place his own. To him, it was just a place to eat and sleep and shower, and occasionally on the weekends enjoy a few games on the big-screen TV. Christine, on the other hand, had completely transformed her new house in just the few months since moving in. Decorated in neutral tones and accented with brighter shades of deep reds, burnished oranges, and forest greens, the place was warm and inviting in every way, and so opposite her parents' lavish home.

He found himself smiling as he recalled the proud way in which she'd told him that she'd bought the place on her own, without her father consigning on the loan. She'd used part of a trust fund left to her by her grandparents on her mother's side to make a deposit that would leave her with a monthly payment she could afford, and kept the rest of that money untouched. She was determined to do it all on her own for the first time in her life, without depending on anyone to help her out, and he couldn't help but be impressed by her fortitude.

"Okay, so I'm not nearly as quick as you when it comes to getting ready," he heard Christine say. "But I did get a phone call that put me about ten minutes behind schedule, if that counts for anything."

Ben shifted his gaze from the contemporary framed art that he'd been staring at to the woman walking toward him, looking like a temptress in the purest form of the word. Stunned by the transformation, and unable to help himself because he was a man, after all, he took in her jaw-dropping outfit, along with that sensual gleam in her bluer than blue eyes and the blond hair that now fell to her shoulders in a sexy, disheveled mass of curls, and felt his mouth go dry and his groin tighten with an unequivocal heated awareness.

He immediately sat up straight before his reaction to her became obvious.

If that teal, off-the-shoulder sweater molding to her breasts and outlining the enticing curve of her waist and hips wasn't enough to make a man do a double take, then those black suede knee-high boots with a four-inch heel and that thigh-skimming miniskirt would render a guy brainless.

He knew this because he suddenly couldn't speak or think beyond imagining her strolling over to him, straddling his lap, and living up to the bad girl image that outfit of hers portrayed.

Good God, he was certain he was going to have to beat back half of the male population at Envy tonight, because somewhere along the way Christine had transformed from a wholesome girl-next-door into a sultry vixen.

As the silence stretched between them, she tipped her head to the side and regarded him with a good amount of amusement. "I take it you like the outfit?"

He shrugged his stiff shoulders and attempted a nonchalant façade, unwilling to admit just how much her ensemble affected him. "It's okay."

A half-smile lifted the corner of those glossy pink lips that made him think of sweet cotton candy. "You're such a liar."

"And you're looking for trouble in a short skirt like that," he retorted bluntly. Not to mention those fuck-me boots you're wearing.

She looked momentarily taken aback by his reply, and he was grateful that he'd kept the latter part of his comment to himself.

"Trust me, it's not that short compared to what some of the women wear to Envy," she said, her hands on her hips and her stance full of sass and attitude. "Besides, that's what I've got you for, to protect me from trouble."

Knowing just how unruly guys could be when it came to a woman who looked as hot as Christine did tonight, he narrowed his gaze. "You're not making my job very easy on me, now are you?"

"We're going to a night club, Ben," she said with a long-suffering sigh. "This outfit is completely and totally appropriate."

"And sexy as hell," he said gruffly, realizing too late that he'd spoken his thoughts out loud.

A confident, Cheshire cat grin curved her too kissable mouth and her eyes lit up with silent mirth. "Ahhh, so you do like it, then."

"That was just an impartial observation on my part."

Her light laughter was infused with delight and too much satisfaction. "Sure it was."

He didn't say a word, figuring it was his smartest, safest bet in keeping the rest of his dignity intact.

She set her small purse down on a nearby chair. "Look, before we go, I have a huge favor to ask."

Grateful for the change in topic, he gave her his undivided attention. "Sure. What do you need?"

She started pacing in front of the coffee table, distracting him all over again with the provocative sway of her hips as she walked. "I know having you by my side for the next three weeks isn't an option," she began, giving him a smile that didn't quite erase the nervousness that had suddenly crept into her voice. "If my father hadn't hired you as my bodyguard, it would have been some other security agent in your place."

"True enough." He was beyond curious as to what she was getting at. "What's the favor, Christine?"

Her pacing came to a halt and she met his gaze. She bit her lower lip anxiously. "Do you think that maybe, possibly, when we're out in public together I can introduce you as the guy I'm dating?"

He blinked at her, not sure what to make of her unusual request. "You mean, as your boyfriend?"

She nodded, looking relieved that he hadn't outright refused her. "Sure, that works for me."

He settled back against the couch cushions, trying to analyze her proposal, but unable to figure out her motive for making such a suggestion. "And just why does that work for you, Christine?" he prompted. "Why the charade?"

Again, she started that restless back and forth walk in front of him. "Two reasons, actually. First. I hate having the typical, obvious security agent walking three feet behind me and looking like a bodyguard."

A grin twitched the corners of his mouth. "Cramps your style, huh?"

"That's not how I meant it." A small frown marred her delicate brows and she shook her head. "I honestly hate the fact that everyone knows that I have a bodyguard, because in the scheme of things I'm just not all that important. The whole setup just seems so… pretentious, and I don't like bringing that kind of attention to myself."

So far, he was finding her explanation pretty darn convincing, and he truly believed that flaunting a bodyguard was so not her style. She might have always lived a privileged life, but she'd never given him the impression that she was a spoiled, pampered princess.

She slanted him a quick glance to gauge his reaction so far, and when he said nothing, she went on. "If I could introduce you as my boyfriend, everything would be much more casual and relaxed when we're together, instead of so awkward, stiff, and formal with you lurking in the background."

He didn't disagree with her rationale, but he wasn't ready to concede to her plan just yet. "And the second reason?"

"I have to admit that this one is a bit more self-serving." Her cheeks turned pink at that admission and she went back to nibbling on her bottom lip again. "The owner of Envy, Craig Crosby, has a thing for me, but I'm just not interested in him in a romantic way. He's forty-one, and no matter how many times I've gently turned him down for a date, or dinner and drinks, he knows I'm single and he keeps asking me out in hopes that I'll change my mind, which I won't." She sighed in frustration.

The name Craig Crosby sounded very familiar, and Ben mulled it over in his head until he realized where he'd heard it before now. "Is Craig Crosby related to the developer Jonathan Crosby in any way?"

Surprise lit her features as her pacing came to an abrupt stop. "How do you know Jonathan Crosby?"

"I don't know him personally. I just know of him from what's been written in the papers recently about the gentrification issue surrounding the upcoming election." Jonathan Crosby was a big-time developer, and it was no secret that he was also a huge supporter of Charles Lambert, Nathan's opponent in the race for governor. "In fact, it's been hinted at that Crosby is tucked firmly into Lambert's pocket and is guaranteed to head up the new construction on the lower west side if Lambert wins."

Christine nodded, causing her silky soft waves to brush her bare shoulders. "Unfortunately, that's all true."

"So, is Craig Crosby related to Jonathan in any way?" Ben asked again.

"Actually, Craig is his son."

He lifted a brow. "So, you're socializing with the enemy?"

"He's not the enemy," she said with a wave of her hand. "At least, we're not enemies, despite our fathers' differing political views. Believe it or not, it's never been an issue between Craig and I. I do know that Craig doesn't have the greatest relationship with his father because he opted to open a night club instead of going into the development business like his dad, but I'm sure he supports his father, just as I support mine. People can be friends but not be on the same side of the fence politically."

True enough, but it still made for an odd situation, especially if Craig wanted to date Christine. "Isn't Craig kind of old for you, anyway?"

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, yeah, he's almost fifteen years older than me, but his age aside, he's actually a very nice, decent guy."

He sat forward and clasped his hands between his widespread legs, his gaze on hers. "You just don't want to go out with him."

"Exactly," she said, her tone exasperated. "I've tried to be nice about telling him I'm not interested, but he's very persistent."

Ben's jaw clenched. He hadn't even met the guy yet and already he didn't like him. Then again, maybe his annoyance had more to do with his own attraction toward Christine. "So why not try the direct approach and just flat out tell him thanks, but no thanks, and make your feelings clear so he doesn't ask again?"

She winced. "You're such a typical guy and that's such a harsh way of handling things. Besides, men don't take that kind of blatant, in-your-face rejection lightly."

"So?" Ben didn't see what the big issue was in that. "He'll get over it. We all do."

Exhaling a deep breath, she crossed her arms over her chest, which effectively caused the creamy, upper swells of her breasts to peek out from the low, scoop neck of her sweater. "The problem is, the situation with Craig is different."

"How so?" he asked curiously.

"When I first started my business, Craig was essential in getting my name in front of a lot of influential people, who in turn hired me to plan an event or a party for them. With Craig being a club owner, he has a lot of prominent contacts and he's been very generous in putting me in touch with some amazing people who have put me way ahead of my competition in the area. I'm very grateful for everything he's done for me, which makes this whole issue of him asking me out something I need to handle delicately. Does that makes sense?"

"Actually, it does." To Ben, it sounded like Craig had the ability to make or break her newfound career, and that was a precarious situation in his estimation. "But despite how nice he's been, you don't owe him anything, Christine."

"I know that." She rubbed the tips of her fingers along her forehead. "But I don't want to be rude to him, either. I also don't believe in burning bridges. It's just not good business practice."

Realizing they needed to leave because they were already running late, Ben stood up and went around the coffee table toward her. "How about putting some distance between yourself and Craig?" he suggested. "Maybe not spend so much time at the club?"

"I've already thought about that, but I'm sort of in a position where I have to deal with Craig for at least three more weeks." She hesitated for a moment, then reluctantly continued. "He's insisting on throwing a birthday bash for me at Envy, which is another way of getting my name in front of potential clients, and he's already started to plan the entire thing. I just need to get past that party, and then I can make a clean break with Craig."

He nodded in understanding. "So, in the meantime, you want a pretend boyfriend to make him back off and quit asking you out."

She gave him an impish look. "That just about sums it all up."

Ben scrubbed a hand along his jaw, wondering what her father would think about his daughter's ploy to waylay another man's interest with the bodyguard he'd hired for her. "Christine, as sympathetic as I am to your situation, I wasn't hired on to be your boyfriend."

"Pretend boyfriend," she clarified, and smiled oh-so-sweetly at him. "What I'm asking you to do doesn't really affect your job as a security agent. If anything, it'll keep you close to my side and a part of everything I do."

Ben thought about all the things that being her boyfriend would entail in order to convince everyone, and Craig especially, that they were a couple. Seductive glances, affectionate touches, and private smiles meant to tempt and tease. Jesus, such an intimate scenario was bound to test the attraction between them and push not only his restraint, but his libido, to the limit.

As if sensing his indecision, she took a step toward him and placed one of her hands on his chest, her eyes soft and imploring. "Please, Ben?" she whispered. "You're in the perfect position to do this for me, and the last thing I want to do is have to find someone else to help me out."

He didn't doubt for a moment that she'd attempt to recruit someone else for the job, and the unsettling thought of watching another guy getting up close and personal with her, even if it was just for show, caused a burning, churning sensation deep in his gut.

Bringing in a third party just wasn't going to happen, he decided. Not on his watch. And that meant agreeing to Christine's ploy and everything it entailed so Craig would finally back off.

Ben figured that standing in as a pretend boyfriend wouldn't interfere with the job he'd been hired to do. If anything, it would enable him to get a better insight to all the people she hung out with without them knowing he was a security agent. Bottom line, his job was to protect Christine, and he could do that just as easily impersonating a guy who was smitten with her.

He exhaled a deep breath and took the plunge. "Okay. Fine. I'll do it."

Christine's eyes widened, and before he realized her intent she wrapped her arms around his neck and enveloped him in a tight, appreciative hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

With Christine's soft, lush body plastered so guilelessly against his, Ben's pulse skipped a beat and he wasn't sure what to do-return the embrace, or gently push her away before she realized the kind of effect she was having on him. Her warm breath caressed his neck, her smooth cheek pressed against his, and the seductive scent of vanilla infused his senses. Acute awareness, and a hard kick of lust, flooded south in a rush of heat.

One thing was for certain-faking an attraction wasn't going to be an issue at all. Settling his hands on her hips, he eased her back so he could breathe without thinking about skimming his hands along her curves and other places they didn't belong.

She looked up at him, her eyes shining gratefully. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate this," she said, still caught up in the fact that he'd agreed to help her out. "Just knowing that I won't have to deal with Craig's subtle advances for the next three weeks is a huge relief."

He smiled, enjoying her enthusiasm. "Good."

Despite those four-inch heels of hers, there was a bounce to her step as she walked over to the chair and grabbed her purse. When she spun back around, she was grinning effusively. "You know what this means, don't you?"

He didn't quite trust the mischievous gleam in her eyes. "Umm, no." But he was positive she was about to enlighten him.

She strolled back toward him and trailed a pink painted fingernail down the center of his chest. "This means, as my boyfriend, you're gonna have to call me Christy."

His deep groan rolled into a laugh, and he shook his head at her impudence. Leave it to Christine to revel in that small bit of victory.