Wild for Him

Chapter Eight

ARE you interested in a short-term affair?

He'd told Christine he'd think about it, and he hadn't lied. For the rest of the afternoon that question buzzed through Ben's mind like the greatest of temptations, seducing his body and senses with a dozen different erotic scenarios. At the most inappropriate times he thought about what it would be like to really make love to Christine, to be deep inside of her when she climaxed, to feel all those tight, rippling contractions around his cock as she came undone just for him.

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.

Instead, she watched Ben eat his dessert, and when he finished he glanced at her uneaten pastry, then at her, his expression etched with concern. He stretched an arm across the back of her chair and leaned in close to her.

"Are you doing okay?" he asked, his voice a low, husky murmur.

She shivered as his thumb stroked down the nape of her neck in a soothing, but equally sensual, caress. "I'm just getting a little restless. I'll be fine once I'm done with my speech."

He glanced at his wristwatch. "You've got about another half an hour before it's time to face the crowd, so in the meantime why don't we walk around and try to calm your nerves?"

She appreciated his suggestion, and decided that his idea had merit. If she sat there at the table she'd do nothing but think about standing up at the podium and how not to panic while over two hundred people watched her speak.

Ben got up from his seat, pulled her chair back, and she stood, too. Hooking her arm through his, she strolled around the ballroom, as other men and women were beginning to do now that the meal portion of the party was over. The hired band began to play upbeat music, and some couples headed toward the dance floor, while others went over to where the silent auction was set up to see what kind of items there were to bid on.

Ben placed his large, warm palm over the hand she'd rested on his arm, the touch subtly possessive and inherently intimate, making them look like the couple they were posing to be. "Would you believe I actually see someone I know here?"

"Really?" She glanced around, trying to figure out who he might be acquainted with at a swanky charity event such as this one. "And who is that?"

"My good friend's brother. Come on and I'll introduce you."

Grateful for the distraction, she let him escort her toward two couples who were engaged in a conversation. One of the women, who was pregnant, looked vaguely familiar, but Christine couldn't place where she'd seen her before. As they approached, one of the men glanced toward them, his blue eyes first widening in shock. Then a big, friendly smile transformed his striking features.

"Hey, Ben." The good-looking man reached out and shook Ben's hand in a firm grip. "What a surprise to see you here."

Ben grinned. "You, too, Scott, though I did see your name on the guest list. I just didn't think this was your kind of thing."

The other man gave a slight wince. "Trust me. I could do without all the formal attire and hoopla, but Ashley is a big supporter of the foundation, so what's a husband to do but tag along?"

"I completely understand. My date is involved in the charity auction portion of the event," Ben said, then went on to introduce her. "This is Christine Delacroix. Christine, meet Scott Wilde and his wife, Ashley St. Claire-Wilde. Joel Wilde, my partner at ESS, is Scott's brother."

"It's nice to meet both of you," Christine said with a smile.

Now Christine knew how she'd recognized Ashley St. Claire, heiress of the St. Claire Hotel that was hosting tonight's gala. She'd met the woman a few years ago at another event, but hadn't seen her since, though she'd heard that she'd gotten married. Judging by the adoration on Ashley's face as she gazed up at her husband, and the soft pink glow of her complexion that complemented her pregnancy, it appeared that the two were still in the throes of wedded bliss.

Ashley indicated the other couple standing with them. "These are my good friends, Matthew Carlton and his wife, Faith. Matthew is a pediatric surgeon at Children's Memorial, so this foundation is very important to him, as well."

Matthew tipped his head as he studied Christine curiously. "Is your father Nathan Delacroix?"

She nodded. "Yes, he is." The question was always a loaded one that usually led to some kind of political statement. Whether the comment was a positive or negative one, she never knew. It all depended on which candidate the person supported.

"Well, he certainly has our vote for governor," Matthew said sincerely as he wrapped an arm around his wife and drew her close to his side. "Faith and I really respect what he's doing with the whole gentrification issue. It's nice to see a politician stand up for the less fortunate and push for inner-city rejuvenation, rather than destroying so many people's lives to make a quick buck," he said, obviously referring to Charles Lambert, Nathan's opponent.

"Delacroix has our vote, too," Scott added for himself and his wife, Ashley.

Christine was glad to have the positive feedback. "Thank you, I appreciate your support, and I know my father will, too."

Ashley placed a hand on her rounded belly, which was draped in black silk. "Ben mentioned that you're in charge of the charity auction for tonight. Scott's sister, Mia, donated one of her stained glass designs for the auction."

"Yes, she did." What a small world it was to discover how everyone was related. "Mia was incredibly generous and offered up a custom-made design of the winner's choice. Considering the beautiful work she does. I'm sure it will be one of the more popular items that people bid on."

"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen." A female voice came over the ballroom's speakers. "In about five minutes. Christine Delacroix will be coming up to the podium to talk about the silent auction, so if she could have everyone's attention to give you all an explanation of how it works, that would be great."

Christine smiled. "Well, that would be me." She drew a deep breath to calm the flutters already hatching in her belly. "I'd better go ahead and make my way to the front of the room."

Right after the announcement, the guests in the ballroom started shifting toward the small staging area, and she let Ben guide her in that direction. It was difficult at times to get past the crush of people, but eventually they made their way to the raised dais, where a few people were milling around-including Leanne and Craig.

The event coordinator ushered the guests away from the platform, then came up to Christine. "Your notes are on the podium as you requested, and there's a glass of water on the shelf beneath if you need it."

Her mouth was already dry and she knew she'd need that water to moisten her lips and throat. "That's perfect. Thank you."

"I'll be right over here," Ben pointed out, and stepped off to the right side-far enough away so that he wasn't hovering over her, yet close enough to make her feel secure.

Lifting the hem of her dress so she didn't trip on her way up to the stand, she maneuvered the two steps and crossed the short stage without any problems, if she didn't count the rush of anxiety that swept over her. Before addressing the room, she took a big gulp of the cool water beneath the podium and took a moment to gather her composure.

As soon as she spoke into the microphone to welcome everyone to the gala, the entire ballroom fell silent and all eyes focused on her, and her aversion to public speaking immediately kicked in. Her heart beat faster in her chest, and she glanced down at her notes to keep her speech on track. Otherwise, she knew she'd babble and wouldn't remember a thing she'd written.

She began her presentation by praising the Children's AIDS Foundation and their cause, as well as how far they'd come over the years thanks to the selfless and altruistic donations that went toward research, grants, and advocacy programs. A little more than five minutes into her talk, she felt her skin flush warmly, and her arms and legs began to tingle.

Pausing between the points she'd outlined-as her speech coach had taught her if she needed a quick break-she took another drink of her water, letting the cool liquid soothe her throat and hopefully settle her queasy stomach.

She continued, first thanking all the various businesses for their gracious contributions to the silent auction, which included signed artwork, designer jewelry, autographed sports memorabilia, and a plethora of other coveted items. She assured the crowd that there was something for everyone, and encouraged them to bid generously, and often, since every dollar they spent went directly toward the foundation.

Her head began to spin, as did the room and the occupants, and when she glanced back down at her notes the words on the page were blurred and disjointed. She blinked to clear her vision, took another drink of her water that finished it off, and tried not to panic.

Clutching the edge of the podium so that she didn't sway, or God forbid pass out from the light-headed sensation enveloping her, she explained the bid sheet that accompanied each donated item, and how each person interested in an item would be assigned a bid number so as to keep their identity private. As she went over the rules for the silent auction, her dizziness increased as did the heart palpitations, adding to the growing pressure in her chest.

A wave of nausea churned in her stomach, and knowing she wasn't going to last up at the podium for much longer without embarrassing herself, she wrapped up her speech sooner than she'd intended, then tried to remember where Ben said he'd be waiting for her, but couldn't think beyond the desperate need for fresh air.

The crowd around her started to disperse, which only added to her confusion and her feeling of disorientation. She couldn't breathe. She only knew she had to get out of the room before she either collapsed or threw up.

Where was Ben?

She stumbled off the platform to the left, and somehow Craig was there, his expression filled with concern. Suddenly, the room started to spin in earnest.

"I've got to get out of here," she rasped, and nearly lost her balance as her legs seemed to grow weak. She felt so lethargic, her mind so muddled-like no other anxiety attack she'd ever had. "I need fresh air."

"Come," he said, and with his arm supporting her around her waist, he guided her through the throng of people and toward the double doors leading outside.

"Where's Ben?" she asked.

Craig didn't answer.

She looked around for Ben, but her vision was so unfocused and everything around her seemed to be moving in slow motion, and she hated the helpless sensation sweeping over her. She felt so tired. So sluggish as she tried to put one foot in front of the other. Craig was talking to her, but she couldn't decipher what he was saying because his voice was so garbled.

And then she felt a rush of cold air on her bare skin as they stepped outside to the front of the hotel, but it wasn't enough to snap her out of her stupor. It was as if she were drunk, yet she'd only consumed one cocktail a few hours ago. Was she still walking? Or was she standing still and everything around her was moving? She no longer could tell.

She wanted Ben. She needed Ben. But when she opened her mouth to tell Craig to go and get him, only a soft moan escaped. And somewhere in the back of her fading thoughts she knew that when Ben did find her he was going to give her hell for not staying put.