Wild for Him

Chapter Six

BEN knew he was in trouble. Big trouble. Four days had passed since he'd given in to temptation and kissed Christine, and he knew it was just a matter of time before something else happened. He could feel it in the air whenever Christine was near him. Could sense the subtle changes in her since that night-a sensual self-assurance that kept Ben on edge, waiting and wondering what her next plan of attack would be.

It didn't help matters that he was keenly aware of the woman, in every way. She walked by him, and that warm, vanilla scent clinging to her skin sent a shot of arousal straight to his groin. She laughed, and the sound captivated him. She'd always been flirtatious with him, but now when she sent a smile his way, it was filled with a sultry feminine knowledge and womanly confidence that didn't bode well for him and his good intentions.

So far, she'd behaved herself, but he suspected that was because of how busy she'd been with work. This week she'd spent a good twelve hours a day at the office, mostly preparing for an upscale charity gala for the Children's AIDS Foundation, which was scheduled for this upcoming Saturday and was being held at the St. Claire Hotel in downtown Chicago. From what she'd told him, Christine had been hired to handle the sponsors and silent auction portion of the social affair.

Now, as he relaxed on a very comfortable couch in the reception area of Christine's office where he could keep a close eye on her as she worked, Ben found it hard to believe that he was getting paid five figures to spend most of his days playing FreeCell on his laptop to pass the time. But there wasn't a whole lot to do while Christine and Madison fielded phone calls, accepted various deliveries that arrived for the silent auction, and spent hours discussing the best way to raise the most money for the Children's AIDS Foundation.

In all honesty, with nothing productive to do other than ensuring Christine's safety, he had far too much time on his hands to think about things he had no business dwelling on. Like how great her ass looked in the brown slim skirt she'd worn today, and how incredibly sexy her legs were in yet another pair of designer heels. Then there was that hot, mind-blowing kiss they'd shared that kept replaying over and over in his head. Except in his mind, instead of pulling away and ending the carnal embrace, he gave into the untamed need to strip off her clothes, bury himself deep inside her soft body, and forget the long list of reasons why getting involved with her was a very bad idea.

She'd told him she wanted to feel desire, and taste passion, and that was another thing he mulled over much too often, as well. How could she have been engaged and not have experienced desire or passion? It didn't seem possible, yet the vulnerable glimpse of emotion he'd seen in her gaze just before she'd kissed him wasn't something she could have faked.

Shaking his head clear of those too interesting thoughts, he started another game of FreeCell. A few moments later, something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he glanced out the office's glass-enclosed window-front to see a black Town-Car with dark-tinted windows pulling up in front of The Big Event. As always, whenever someone parked near the business he went straight into security mode-taking in the car description, memorizing the license plate, and making a mental note of whoever exited the vehicle. If they entered the office, the scrutiny continued, but on a more personal level to make sure the visit was legitimate.

The driver, dressed in a uniformed suit, stepped out of the car and opened the back door. Ben groaned as Craig Crosby emerged, looking like the pretentious son of a bitch that he was in his dark blue, knit-collared shirt, tan trousers, and with his dark, glossy hair combed back from his face. He said something to his driver, then headed toward the shop with a portfolio folder in hand.

He pushed open the door, and a buzzer rang in the back rooms to let Madison and Christine know that someone had come inside. Looking straight ahead, Craig didn't notice him sitting on the couch off to the side, giving Ben the advantage. As the other man continued walking farther into the office as if he planned on going in search of Christine himself. Ben decided to squash his presumptuous stride.

"Hey, Crosby."

Craig jolted to a stop, and his head snapped to the left. As soon as he saw Ben, the suave grin he'd been wearing to greet Christine fell flat and animosity etched his features. "What a surprise seeing you here," he said dryly.

"I'm sure it is." Leaning back into the couch cushions, Ben folded his arms behind his head and smiled, liking that he had the upper hand over this guy.

"Especially at this time of the day," Craig said, the insinuation of Ben being a bum reflecting in his voice. "Don't you have a job?"

Ben shrugged. "I make my own hours. Do you have an appointment to see Christine?" Each morning he went over the day's agenda with her, and Crosby had not been listed for a meeting today. That's something he wouldn't have forgotten.

Craig visibly bristled with annoyance. "What are you, her receptionist now?"

"No. Just a very jealous boyfriend."

The other man's gaze flared with a mix of anger and frustration, and Ben had to admit that provoking Craig was the most fun he'd had in days.

Craig didn't bother hiding the look of disdain he gave Ben as he took in the casual USMC cotton T-shirt and well-worn jeans he was wearing today. "I don't understand what she sees in you."

"I can't really say." Ben mulled that one over as he compared himself to Craig and the biggest difference between them. "Maybe it's the fact that I'm just a normal, average Joe."

Craig smirked. "Well, that novelty will wear off in time, I'm sure."

No doubt, Crosby was hoping that was true, but Ben was well aware that even after he was out of Christine's life, she had no intentions of ever getting involved with Craig.

Thank God.

"Craig?" Christine came around the corner, a half-smile on her lips and a curious look in her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Hi, Christy." Crosby's smarmy smile reappeared as he turned all his attention on Christine. "We never did get the chance to discuss some of the details for your party on Sunday since you left so abruptly, so I thought I'd stop by and we could go over a few things. Do you have any spare time right now?"

She glanced at her watch, then nodded. "Sure."

"Great:" He cast a quick, telling glance at Ben. "Do you mind if we go somewhere a bit more private?"

"How about the conference room?" she suggested.

"Perfect," he said, an unmistakable note of satisfaction in his voice.

Christine met Ben's gaze. "I'm sure this won't take long. I'll be done in just a while, then we can head over to Starbucks for a drink." She then smiled at Craig. "Ben knows all the long hours I've been working this week, so he dropped in to make sure I took a break today."

Ahhh, a good call on Christine's part to explain his presence.

She headed to the conference room, and Craig fell into step beside her. When he placed his hand at the small of her back as she preceded him inside the room, Christine stiffened and stepped away from Craig. Ben's blood boiled in his veins and it took every ounce of control he possessed not to charge in there and break the man's arm in a couple of different places so he'd keep his hands off Christine in the future.

Ben shifted restlessly on the couch and swore beneath his breath, unable to believe how this one guy could get to him in such an elemental way. Craig closed the door behind them, but the conference room was glass-enclosed, and while Ben wasn't able to hear their conversation, he was able to watch every move that slimy bastard made.

He shut down his computer, set it aside, and kept his gaze glued to the conference room and the pair inside. An eternity seemed to pass as he watched the two interact. Craig casually touched her arm as he pointed to something in his portfolio folder, and Ben's jaw clenched. The other man said something to make Christine smile and laugh, and Ben's stomach churned with an emotion he refused to exam too closely.

By the time they came out of the conference room. Ben was feeling more than a little surly.

Christine walked Craig to the door, said good-bye, then strolled back toward Ben with an amused smile curving her lips. She was wearing a button-up beige silk blouse with her brown skirt and killer high heels, and the expensive material shimmered across her chest as she moved, reminding him of how soft her breast had felt in his hand, how tight and hard her nipple had peaked against his fingers. At the time, he'd ached to pull off her pajama top and take one of those firm mounds of flesh into his mouth so he could taste her.

She sat down beside him on the couch. "Did I hear you right earlier when you said you're a jealous boyfriend?" She looked immensely pleased at the notion.

So, she'd overheard part of his exchange with Craig. "A jealous pretend boyfriend," he corrected her. "I'm just acting the part for your benefit."

She tipped her head, causing the ends of her hair to brush across her shoulder like expensive skeins of blond silk. "Are you sure about that?"

No way was he going to admit that his jealousy was real, and judging by her sweet, knowing smile, he didn't have to. The woman read him way too easily, and it was an unnerving feeling to realize she could get into his head that way.

"Even knowing you have a boyfriend, the man can't keep his hands off you," he said bluntly.

"I don't encourage it, as you've seen," she said, absently smoothing a hand down the front of her skirt.

"I don't like him."

She laughed lightly. "So you've said before. Not that you're jealous or anything." She made a face at him.

He held back a grin, because she just looked so damned cute and irresistible. "My dislike of Craig is all based on my professional assessment of the guy," he said gruffly.

With a sudden look of concern, she reached out and placed a hand on his forehead.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"You're a little warm," she said, appearing completely serious. "I think you're experiencing office fever from being cooped up in here for so many days. And you seem to have all the symptoms of office fever, too."

He frowned in confusion. "And what would those be?"

A playful smile flirted at the corners of her mouth. "You're grouchy and irritable, which are the two most common ailments of office fever."

"Oh, you're funny," he replied.

"Luckily, I know just what you need. A change of scenery and some fresh air does wonders to alleviate office fever." She stood back up. "Give me another hour to wrap up a few things and make sure Madison has everything under control, then you and I can leave the office early this afternoon."

"To do what?"

"I have some errands to run, and then I was thinking you and I could grab a bite to eat afterward. I've had a craving for pizza lately. How does that sound?"

He grinned. His day had just taken a turn for the better. "Are you kidding me? Pizza and beer is my idea of a gourmet meal."

"You're very easy to please." She touched her fingertips to his jaw, and the lighthearted moment between them shifted and changed, as did the nuance of her comment.

He pulled back so that her fingers fell away, but the slight distance between them did nothing to dissipate the sensual awareness she'd kindled between them with just a simple caress.

And considering the desire warming her gaze as she stared at him, she knew exactly what she'd done, too.

As she walked away, he groaned beneath his breath. Oh, yeah, he was definitely in deep trouble when it came to Christine.

CHRISTINE opened her day planner and scratched off another item on her to-do list for the afternoon. "Only one more errand to go, and we're done for the day," she said, and glanced over at Ben, who was driving her around the city in his truck.

Over the past few stops they'd made, she'd noticed a gradual change in Ben whenever they came back to his vehicle and started for their next destination. He'd grown quiet and pensive, his gaze continually checking his rearview mirror as he navigated the streets of downtown Chicago.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," he said, a frown furrowing his brow as he headed toward their next stop. "Do you know anyone who drives a white car?"

She automatically glanced over her shoulder and out the back window of the truck, her gaze searching the traffic behind them. It was close to rush hour, and all she saw was a sea of cars of various makes, models, and colors. "Why, is someone following us?" she asked anxiously.

"Well, that was nice and subtle," he said of her obvious rubbernecking.

"I'm sorry." She cringed, realizing her mistake too late. "It was just an instinctive response. What's going on?"

"It could be nothing, but I'm not one to take chances." He looked into his rearview mirror again. "There's a white car that seems to be following us from a distance, and has been since we left the office. I can't get a good feel for the make or model of the vehicle because it's too far away, but my guess is that it's a smaller, sporty model."

She thought for a moment, and it didn't take her long to realize who owned a white vehicle. "The last I knew, Jason drove a white BMW Coupe. I don't know if he still has it, though."

Without warning, Ben eased his truck over to the curb and came to a stop while the rest of the traffic kept driving by.

She glanced up at the tall building next to them in confusion, because it was nowhere near where they needed to go next. "What are you doing?"

He kept his gaze riveted on the mirror on his windshield. "I'm going to wait for the car to drive by and see who it is."

The man certainly knew his business. Curious as all heck to see the car's driver for herself, she sat there and waited not so patiently for the white vehicle in question to pass them. She didn't dare glance out the back window again, though she wanted to.

Less than a minute later he slammed his fist against the steering wheel and cursed beneath his breath, his frustration palpable.

Startled by his outburst, she jumped in her seat. "What's wrong?"

"The car turned down a side street before I could get a good look at anything worthwhile." He put the truck back into gear and segued back into traffic. "That leads me to believe it was someone who didn't want to drive by us, though I could be wrong."

Somehow, Christine didn't think that was the case, and the whole incident left her feeling uneasy and grateful to have Ben with her. She gave him the rest of the directions to their last errand, and they arrived across town in less than five minutes. This time, with no one following them.

"You need to pull into this upcoming parking structure," she said, and slid her date book back into her purse.

He did as she instructed, found a parking slot, and brought the truck to a stop. "Where do we need to go?"

She bit her bottom lip, unsure how Ben was going to take this next bit of news. "There's a men's clothing shop around the corner that you and I need to go to." It was an exclusive men's store her father frequented, where they also rented high-end formal attire.

That definitely grabbed his attention. "What for?"

She waited until they were both out of the vehicle and walking toward the men's store before explaining. "Did I happen to mention that the charity event this weekend is a black-tie affair? You know, the one you'll be escorting me to?"

A looming sense of dread swept across his features. "Uh, no."

"You wouldn't happen to have a tuxedo hanging in your closet at home, would you?" She already knew the answer to that question. Most likely the only suit he'd ever worn was his Marine dress blues.

He laughed, but the sound didn't hold much humor. "You're kidding, right?"

She held back a grin. "I didn't think so. Which means we need to get you one for this weekend."

"Why?"

Stopping in front of the shop, she faced Ben, who didn't look at all happy with the current turn of events. "Because this is a formal party, and bodyguard or pretend boyfriend, a nice suit is required."

He groaned like a man being taken to the gallows.

This time, she let a throaty laugh escape. "Don't worry. There's a fabulous tailor who works here, and I promise he'll be gentle in taking your measurements and getting you properly fitted. We'll be done in no time."

Ben grunted in reply, then held open the door for her in resignation. "Fine. Let's get this over with."

AN hour later, they were seated at Santori's, an old-world Italian restaurant known for their delicious deep-dish pizza and other authentic dishes. After ordering a pizza to share, a beer for Ben, and a soda for her, Christine smoothed a napkin onto her lap and glanced across the booth at Ben.

"Getting fitted for a tuxedo was relatively painless, don't you think?" She'd ordered him a Hugo Boss ensemble, and she just knew he was going to look gorgeous come Saturday evening.

He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. "Having a guy with a feminine lilt to his voice measuring anywhere near my crotch is not my idea of fun."

She burst out laughing, because he truly seemed miffed. "Paul was just making sure he had the right measurements for your inseam so your pants would fit properly."

"If you say so," he muttered. "He just seemed to enjoy his job way too much."

"Take it as a compliment," she said, trying to bolster his male ego, though she was certain there was no way that Ben felt flattered by having a man all but fondle his crotch.

Their waitress came by to deliver her drink and Ben's beer. Once she was gone, Christine closed her eyes and inhaled the delicious scent of rich tomato sauce and spices. When she blinked her lashes open again, she found Ben watching her in a way that made her stomach stir with awareness.

"God, I've missed this place." She glanced around, taking in the casual atmosphere and old-world charm surrounding them. "I haven't been here in forever, and I've forgotten how good pizza can smell."

"I take it you don't do pizza often." He took a drink of his beer. "It's a weekly must for me."

"That's because it's the perfect bachelor food."

He grinned, the first one since they'd left the men's shop. "I won't argue with that."

"Normally I'm eating for one, so buying an entire pizza just doesn't make sense because most of it would go bad before I could enjoy it." She fiddled with her fork and knife, just to give her hands something to do. "And whenever I go out to eat with my parents, well, my mother doesn't do pizza, and would be mortified to be seen in a place like this."

"What about Jason?" he asked unexpectedly. "Did the two of you ever come here when you were engaged?"

The switch of topic to Jason was a little startling, but not something she had an issue talking about with Ben. "Jason had this whole image thing he worried about, so he always insisted on going to the upscale restaurants where he could see and be seen, if you know what I mean."

He studied her much too intently. "From what I've read about him, and what I know about you, I just don't get what attracted you to the guy."

"Initially, his charm and my mother's insistence that he was quite a catch and great marriage material. We all know how that turned out."

"It turned out for the best, Christine," he said, his voice softening with understanding. "You could have married the guy and then found out what a pig he was."

"You're right," she said, and sighed. "I just feel foolish that I didn't see his true colors until I was slapped in the face with it." She shuddered when she thought about the evening she'd caught Jason with his pants down-literally.

Ben's long fingers absently stroked the condensation off the bottle of his beer, the interest in his gaze genuine. "How did you meet Jason, anyway?"

"He was at a political party for my father, which my mother and I were attending as well." She shrugged, opting for an indifferent attitude on the subject. "It was fairly well known that Jason came from a very wealthy, respectable family back East, and as soon as he showed the slightest bit of interest in me, my mother was all over getting us together as a couple, and insisted that my father hire him on as a political consultant, which he did. We started dating, and within six months my mother was pushing for an engagement."

"It sounds like you were more pressured into the relationship than anything."

Looking back and analyzing the situation, Christine knew that had been exactly the case, and she hated that she'd fallen right into her mother's grand scheme to match her daughter up with an affluent family that would increase Audrey's social standing in the community. As for Jason, he'd obviously seen the opportunity to use Christine and her family's connections to further his own political career.

"Unfortunately, at the time, my mother was a huge influence over me and a lot of the decisions I made." And back then, she'd still been intent on trying to please her controlling mother, because that's all she'd ever known.

"All my life, my mother did everything she could to groom me to be the perfect wife for someone prominent," she went on to explain. "She sent me off to an all-girls' boarding school, she signed me up for various pageants, enrolled me in etiquette classes, and I did the whole debutante thing, which thrilled my mother, as you can imagine."

All those scenarios had been Audrey's way of molding her into a polite, demure woman who would marry at a young age, have a family, support her husband's political aspirations, and look the other way when it came to her spouse's indiscretions.

Just as Audrey, herself, always had.

Christine shuddered to think that she'd almost ended up just like her mother in that regard.

Their pizza arrived, and while they both dug into a slice of the deep-dish pie, Ben was still reeling over this huge, revealing insight to Christine's past. Audrey, he decided, was a real piece of work, and it was amazing that Christine hadn't ended up more like her mother. Then again, from what Christine had just told him, there had been glimpses of her true personality trying to break free from Audrey's restrictive pressures and demands.

After enjoying a big bite of his pizza, he pointed out one of them to her now. "You being on the girls' basketball team in high school is quite a contradiction to all those formal, ladylike lessons your mother foisted on you."

She laughed, her eyes sparkling with humor. "I had to rebel where I could. My mother wanted me to take a dance or ballet class, and she wasn't at all happy about my choice of an extracurricular activity."

He chuckled, too. "I can just imagine."

She licked away the pizza sauce on her thumb, her expression more reflective now. "You know, looking back, I really should have learned to make more decisions for myself, rather than letting my mother dictate my life."

He shook his head. "You were just a kid, Christine. A good one who did as she was told, and you certainly can't be faulted for that."

"Maybe," she said, not sounding entirely convinced as she wound a long string of cheese around her finger. "But I'd like to think I've changed since ending my engagement to Jason. That I'm now one hundred percent in control of my life and every decision I make."

He grinned at her. "Well, if it's any consolation, I do have to say that during lunch last Sunday with your mother, you were quite impressive in the way you stood up to her about your job and going to Envy."

"I was impressive, wasn't I?" Her tone was sweet and teasing, and not at all conceited. "That's the new and improved me. And I don't think my mother is too happy about all the changes I've made lately."

"It's all about making the decisions that make you happy," he said, and reached for another slice of pizza. "That's all that matters at the end of the day."

"I am happy. With my life. My new career. Being independent and living on my own. And especially going after what I want without worrying about what my mother will do or think." Pride and contentment mingled in the tone of her voice. "What about you, Ben? Are you happy with your life?"

"Sure," he replied automatically. He had a great job and few responsibilities other than to the security company he was a part of, and the assignments he took on. But at the end of the day, there was definitely a sense of emptiness deep inside of him that he hadn't been able to fill, along with a host of regrets for things he'd once hoped for, but had lost back in Iraq. The woman he loved. A wife to come home to and share things with. And eventually, a family of his own.

Every single one of those things had slipped through his fingers in one horrifying, life-changing moment that would haunt him forever.

Not wanting to launch into a conversation about his dark past, he instead watched as Christine finished off a second slice of pizza. The woman had a great appetite and didn't hesitate to feed it well.

When she was done, she sat back in her seat, placed a hand over her still flat stomach, and sighed. "That pizza was amazingly good."

He couldn't have agreed more. "So, did you leave any room for dessert?"

Her eyes lit up at the mention of something sweet. "Absolutely. They make the most fabulous tiramisu here, but don't expect me to share." She grinned impishly.

He shook his head and chuckled. "I wouldn't dream of it."