“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 rubber-necking.
“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 to 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 passenger 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 behind 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 could 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.” S
he 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 too 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 looked 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, lady-like 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 extra-curricular 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 quiet 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.”
Chapter Seven
Ben sat out in the dark, quiet living room, skipping through the cable channels on Christine’s TV in search of something worthwhile to watch at one o’clock in the morning. He stopped on an infomercial for some kind of car cleaner, then watched the ending of a cop chase on Court TV before jumping to a music video on MTV. Once that was over, he skipped to another paid program for Ginsu Knives and decided that was about as good as it was going to get.
With a bored sigh, he tossed the channel changer onto the cushion beside him, then leaned back against the couch to make himself comfortable. Before the host could slice and dice through a tomato, Ben heard a door open, then the sound of feet padding across the carpet to the kitchen. He glanced in that direction and saw Christine’s silhouette as she came to a stop in the distance, then changed course and started toward him in the living room.
She emerged from the shadows, looking sleep-tousled and wearing what he’d normally refer to as a modest nightgown, but on Christine it was anything but demure. The straps holding up the gown were thin, and the front v-neck was trimmed in lace, with a tighter bodice that molded to her small, firm breasts. The hem fluttered around her knees as she walked toward him, drawing his attention to her slender, bare legs.
Ignoring his body’s instantaneous response to her irresistible, sensual allure, he lifted his gaze back to hers. “What are you doing up?”
“With the charity auction tomorrow night, I’ve got a lot of things going through my head,” she said, and sat down on the couch a respectable distance away from him. “I was just going to make myself some chamomile tea when I saw that you were up, too. Is everything okay?”
Her concern warmed him. “Actually, this is pretty normal for me.”
She tipped her head, causing soft, disheveled waves to fall across her bare shoulder. “What, not being able to sleep?”
He nodded. Sleep meant dreams, and not all of them were pleasant. Not since Iraq. “I’m used to getting by with very little sleep. A few hours, and I’m good to go.” He smiled at her.
“I can’t even imagine. Normally, I have to have my eight hours or I’m not functional the next day.” She brought her legs up to the side and covered them with the skirt of her gown. “Have you always been that way? Only needing a few hours of sleep?”
“No, just since being in the service. Specifically, when I was sent to Iraq.” He glanced back at the TV just as the host cut through an aluminum can with one of the Ginsu knives. “Hearing IEDs and gunshots going off in the distance has a way of making
you sleep with one eye open at all times.”
“That couldn’t have been easy,” she said softly.
“You get used to it.” He shrugged, not wanting to get melancholy about his time in the military. “So, most nights, like tonight, are spent watching old re-runs of I Love Lucy, or cheesy infomercials, like this one.”
“Ginsu Knives?” She laughed and reached for the channel changer between them. “There has got to be something better than this on with all the cable channels I have.”
Pointing the remote at the TV, she began flipping through the channels in search of something interesting to watch. The images on the screen blurred as she quickly jumped from one show to the next. She passed what appeared to be a couple in a heated embrace, and in the next instant she was hitting the reverse button and stopping on the Playboy channel and the soft porn movie in progress.
The man and woman were slowly striping off each other’s clothing as they indulged in deep, tongue-tangling kisses and provocative caresses as more and more skin was bared, until the pair was completely naked. It was evident to Ben exactly where this seductive scenario was heading… toward some hot and steamy sex.
Unsure why Christine had stopped on an adult skin-flick—possibly to torment him and remind him what he couldn’t have when it came to her?—he slanted a covert glance toward the woman sitting on the opposite side of the couch. Her gaze was riveted to the TV, and she looked totally enthralled by the action unfolding on the big screen in front of them.
“What are you doing?” he asked, trying to sound casual about the whole situation, when he was anything but.
“Just watching,” she said, never taking her eyes off the couple, who were now moving on to more erotic pleasures.
Ooookkkaay. If she could watch a porn movie with such composure and without getting flustered, then so could he. Except like most guys, the whole visual thing made his dick sit up and take notice—and wearing only a pair of sweat pants made it extremely difficult to conceal his growing hard-on.
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