Wilde for Him (16 page)

On the drive over to the St. Claire Hotel to set up for the charity's silent auction, she kept up a steady stream of conversation, but instead of hearing what she had to say all he could do was watch her mouth move and remember how soft and sweet her lips tasted beneath his—and how badly he wanted to kiss her again.

Deeply.

Hungrily.

Greedily.

They arrived at the hotel, and since he refused to let her out of his sight she cheerfully put him to work setting up tables for the auction items while she and Madison draped them elegantly in panels of beige silk fabric. Christine leaned across the table to smooth out wrinkles in the material before pinning it in place, and her blouse pulled tight across her chest, outlining her perfect breasts and teasing him with a glimpse of those hard nipples he'd plied with his thumb and sampled with his tongue.

She'd bend down to pick something up, and her heart-shaped ass had him fantasizing about one of his favorite sexual positions.

She purposefully flirted and teased and sent him covert glances that kept him keenly aware of her all day long, and made him want her with each seductive smile and throaty laugh she sent his way. He'd spent their hours together in a stranglehold of desire, lust, and yearning for all the things Christine had offered him with one simple question:

Are you interested in a short-term affair?

After their work in the ballroom was done and the auction items displayed, they went back to Christine's place to take showers and get ready for the evening ahead. Standing beneath the hot spray of water and feeling the sleek caress of water and soap sluicing down his naked frame, it was Christine's hands he imagined were stroking across his chest, down his abdomen, and along his straining erection.

All he could think about was having an affair with her, and it was close to driving him insane. She'd planted the seed and all day she'd nurtured the idea, until resisting her, and everything she was suggesting, was nearly impossible for him to do.

Now, as he finished getting dressed, he suspected that tonight wasn't going to be any different than today—except this evening he needed all his instincts clear and on target, his attention sharp and unclouded by all Christine's sultry attempts to seduce him. Being completely aware of their surroundings and keeping her safe during the charity event was his number-one priority until he had her home again tonight.

But before they could leave, he had to wrangle a long strip of silk into something that resembled a bow tie to go with the designer tuxedo he was wearing, and he wasn't having much luck with the task. He scowled at his reflection in the mirror when he ended up with a tangle of knotted material around his neck, and with an impatient growl he gave it a hard tug to unravel the mess so he could start the frustrating process all over again.

"Well, well, well," came a soft feminine drawl from behind him in the guest bedroom. "Don't you look nice."

"Except for this stupid bow tie," he grumbled irritably. "Who invented this contraption of material, anyway? And why couldn't you have gotten me one of those easy, pre-tied bows?"

"Because that would be cheating," she said, amusement in her voice. "You can't wear a cheap clip-on bow with a Hugo Boss tuxedo. It would ruin the entire look."

He rolled his eyes in disbelief. "Who would even know the difference?" Certainly not him.

"Oh, you'd be surprised."

He turned around to tell her that it was ridiculous that anyone would even care about a bow tie, but as soon as he saw Christine and what she was wearing his mouth went as dry as dust.

The black evening gown she had on for tonight's ball was an exquisite one-shoulder design, accented all over in beads that sparkled like brilliant jewels with the slightest move she made. The silky, shimmering fabric molded to her breasts, but from there the material lightly skimmed along her curves all the way down to the floor, gently emphasizing her womanly figure, rather than clinging to it. Of course, peeking out from the hem of her dress was a pair of black, open-toed, strappy high heels.

She'd swept her blond hair up into an elegant style of soft loose curls that left her shoulders completely bare, and her makeup had been applied in a way that made her blue eyes stand out and drew his gaze to her full, pink-glossed lips. Since the gown itself was so intricate, she'd kept her jewelry very simple—just a pair of diamond stud earrings that rivaled the lustrous shine of her eyes.

Somehow, he found his voice. "Wow. You look absolutely stunning." And she was so out of his league socially he felt like a fraud wearing such a high-dollar, designer tuxedo.

"Thank you." She smiled, her expression glowing from his compliment. "Now let's see what we can do about your bow tie."

"We can always throw it in the trash," he suggested with a grin.

"Sorry, but that's not an option." She turned him around so that he was facing the dresser mirror again and she was standing behind him. "Even in my high heels, you're too tall for what I need to do," she said, and moved away from him.

She returned a moment later, dragging the straight-backed chair that had been in the corner of the guest bedroom. She parked it behind him, then told him to sit down. Curious as to what she intended, he did as she ordered and lowered himself to the chair. She positioned herself behind him, the back of his head now resting gently against the soft cushion of her breasts—which wasn't a bad place to be, he decided.

She reached around him and took the two long ends of the strip of silk in her hands. "Tying a formal bow is just like tying your shoes," she said as she wrapped one end of the material around the other and made a loose knot at the base of his throat.

Her cool fingers brushed beneath his chin as she made some kind of loop with the fabric. "And you learned this how?"

"I did it for my father when I was growing up." She tilted her head ever-so-slightly as she continued manipulating the strips of silk. "Just yet another thing my mother insisted I learn for future reference. See, it did come in handy after all." She met his gaze in the mirror and grinned as she made one last adjustment to the immaculate bow she'd created.

"I hardly think your mother planned for you to use your bow-tying skills on your bodyguard," he pointed out wryly.

Finished with the bow, she smoothed her hands along the shoulders of his tuxedo jacket and bent low so her lips were close to his ear. "Then we won't tell her, now will we?"

She was teasing and flirting with him again, but Ben didn't disillusion himself that if Audrey every found out that her daughter was fraternizing with the hired help, especially him, she'd come unglued and all hell would break loose.

"It looks like we're ready to go," she said, stepping away as he stood up. "I just need to get through the auction speech tonight without getting nauseous or sick, and I'll be happy." She absently placed a hand on her stomach.

He wasn't used to seeing Christine insecure about anything, and this unguarded revelation of hers surprised him and made him see a whole different side to her. "Not much of a public speaker, huh?"

"No, not really," she said with a shake of her head. "I've even tried hiring a public-speaking coach to help with my nerves, but I still get that churning anxiety in the pit of my stomach as soon as I'm standing at the podium and I'm the center of everyone's attention."

"You'll do fine." Without thinking, he reached out and caressed the backs of his fingers along her cheek, and her gaze softened in response. "It's a quick speech and I'll be nearby. It'll be done and over with before you know it."

"I hope so." She summoned a brave, determined smile. "We'd better get going. I'd like to get to the hotel a bit earlier than everyone else to double-check the auction display."

"Okay." He followed her out of his room, his gaze taking in the bare nape of her neck and all the smooth, silky skin revealed by the one-shoulder design of her gown. He glanced lower, to the alluring sway of her hips and the tantalizing way the fabric skimmed over her bottom as she walked. As he inhaled, he realized that she wasn't wearing her normal vanilla scent tonight, but instead he breathed in a richer fragrance that was as mysterious as it was provocative.

Feeling that familiar buzz of arousal kick in, he forced his attention elsewhere. "By the way, I went through the guest list for the charity event tonight, and both Craig and Leanne are going to be there."

"Yes, as are over two hundred other people." She picked up a black shawl from the coffee table in the living room, draped it over her shoulders, then turned around to face him. "We all run in the same social circles, so it's inevitable that our paths will cross."

He pushed his hands into the front pockets of his black trousers. "I want you to stay away from both of them. Especially Craig."

She laughed as she grabbed a black beaded purse that matched her gown. "You play the jealous boyfriend so well, not that I mind."

Okay, that did sound way more possessive than he'd intended, and he tried to backpedal so he didn't sound like a Neanderthal. "I just think tonight will be less stressful if you keep your distance from those two."

She opened her small purse and looked through the contents. "You're probably right, but I'll be mingling with everyone, so I can't deliberately ignore them if they come up to me. It would be rude, and since I'm in charge of the silent auction tonight, I don't want to make a bad impression on anyone."

He nodded in understanding. "Fair enough," he said, though he just didn't like the thought of Craig anywhere near Christine, which meant he'd have to find creative ways to steer them both clear of the guy.

THE ballroom of the St. Claire Hotel had been transformed into an elegant and festive affair for the glitzy charity event raising money for the Children's AIDS Foundation. Everyone was dressed in black formal wear, with most of the women in the room wearing their most glamorous gowns and equally stunning jewelry reserved just for special occasions such as this.

Sitting at their assigned dining table enjoying a succulent Chateaubriand with béarnaise sauce and fresh steamed vegetables, Christine cast a surreptitious glance at Ben, who was sitting to her left, to see how he was fairing. For a man who swore on the drive over to the hotel that he had absolutely nothing in common with anyone at the gala and would likely stick out like a greenhorn, she had to say that he'd managed to fit in with the upper crust of Chicago quite nicely.

They'd spent the first hour and a half of the evening enjoying cocktails and hors d'oeuvres while mingling with her friends and other people she was acquainted with. When she introduced Ben, he shook hands with the men, and acknowledged the women with a charming smile and polite greeting that showcased him for the gentleman he was and made her feel proud to have a man like him on her arm.

Of course they ran into Craig and Leanne during the cocktail party and politely said hello to both, but didn't linger to chat. Christine noticed that Ben was quick to avert their attention elsewhere, but that hadn't dissuaded Leanne from issuing her cutting stares from across the room, or stopped Craig from watching them from a distance with a look of irritation on his face.

By eight P.M. they were asked to be seated at their designated tables while the president of the Children's AIDS Foundation stepped up to the podium and gave a heartfelt speech about the organization, AIDS statistics, and how everyone's donation to attend the gala would help fund pediatric research and raise awareness about the children's fight against HIV.

Then came the beginning of a five-course gourmet meal, and when Ben furtively watched from the corner of his eye which utensil she used and when, this time she didn't try to trick him. While Christine found that she was only able to skim from each plate due to her increasing nerves for her upcoming speech, Ben didn't seem to have any lack of appetite. He finished each item that was set in front of him, and in between courses he kept up a steady stream of conversation with the men at the table, which included a doctor, a lawyer, and a local newscaster. All seemed fascinated by Ben's stint in the military, as well as his current occupation in a security firm.

As for the women at the table, well, they seemed very captivated by Ben's easy charm and his handsome good looks, not that Christine could blame any of them.

"Can I have one of those, please?" Madison, who was sitting to her right at their dinner table, said.

Christine glanced to the left as her friend indicated, and the only thing she found that Madison might want was the bread basket. "You want another roll?" she asked, just to be sure, since both of their main entree plates had just been cleared away.

"No. I want a hot guy like Ben," Madison clarified, grinning effusively. "He's been amazing tonight, and you'd never know that he wasn't a part of this crowd. Nice eye candy to have on your arm when you need it, too. Do you know if he has a brother?"

Christine held back a smile and shook her head. "Sorry, but he's an only child."

Madison sighed in feigned disappointment. "That's really too bad, because he's starting to grow on me."

He was growing on Christine, too—in a big way that went beyond just being hot for him. She really did love her newfound freedom and independence after spending years under her mother's overbearing influence, then Jason's controlling personality, but she had to admit that she truly liked having Ben around. She enjoyed his company and their verbal exchanges, and even their arguments sent a zing of excitement through her.

Their mutual attraction was a big bonus and one she had every intention of taking advantage of. Tonight. She couldn't wait to get him home, and she wasn't taking no for an answer, not when she knew how much he wanted her, too. And as exceedingly gorgeous as he looked in his tuxedo, she couldn't wait to get him out of it and see him completely naked so she could touch him everywhere.

A waiter came by and delivered their final course of the evening—dessert—a light, flaky pastry filled with Chantilly cream and drizzled with a caramel and orange sauce. Normally, Christine would dig right in and enjoy every bite, but again, her anxious stomach wasn't cooperating and she didn't even touch the delicious-looking confection.