Wilde for Him (6 page)

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.