"I'll feed the cake to you, Christy," Jon offered willingly, a gregarious smile on his lips.

"Like hell you will," Ben muttered, just loud enough for his friend to hear, and laugh. Ben decided he could do this and not let it turn into a seductive game between them.

Breaking off a small corner of the cake, he brought it up to Christine's parted lips, and she took the morsel from him, her tongue barely grazing the tips of his fingers. Another piece, and she ate it with delicate little bites in between moaning her appreciation for the taste. She even fed him a small portion of the moist, yellow cake.

The process was all very sweet and chaste… until he reached for a napkin to wipe the frosting off his fingers.

She grabbed his wrist to stop him. "You can't waste the frosting," she said, chastising him. "It's the best part of the cake."

Then she proceeded to lick the sticky buttercream from his fingers. Slowly. Leisurely. Using her tongue to swipe the sweetness from his skin, and her teeth to scrape the confection from the pad of his thumb. By the time she was done, he was grateful that she was sitting on his lap, because her brazen display had made him as hard as stone and he was certain she could feel his erection pressing against her hip.

As if Christine hadn't just turned him inside out with wanting her, she struck up a conversation with her friends, giving his libido time to cool.

The upbeat song that the band was playing came to an end, and a slower melody began to fill the room. "I think we'll wind things down for a little bit," one of the band members said into the microphone as the lights were dimmed. "Let's have the birthday girl pick someone special to dance with during this song, which is titled 'Someone Like You'."

Christine looked down at him, her gaze adoring and filled with an emotion he refused to name. "That special person would be you," she said, and stood, extending her hand toward him.

Ben didn't dance. It just wasn't his thing, which was why he didn't mind when Kevin and Jon had fun with Christine as a partner. But this was different. This was more about a good-bye for him, and he just couldn't pass up the chance to hold her close one last time.

Taking her hand, he led her to the dance floor and pulled her into his arms as the slow song played and the singer's voice crooned the romantic lyrics. He placed a hand at the base of her spine, and she twined her arms around his neck, aligning their bodies so that they were touching intimately from chest to thighs, and igniting sparks of heat with the slightest move they made. She rested her head on his shoulder with her lips grazing his neck, and he pressed his cheek to her soft, fragrant hair. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, memorizing the scent of her skin, the soft, yielding press of her curves against him, and the way she curled into him so trustingly.

Letting her go tonight was going to kill him, even if it was the right thing to do.

After a while, she pulled back and looked into his eyes, her fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck. Her beautiful expression was soft with reverence… and the undeniable glow of love. It was the latter emotion that completely and utterly slayed him. Uncaring of the fact that they were standing in the middle of a crowded dance floor, he lowered his head and kissed her.

One… last… time.

Her lips automatically parted beneath his, so soft and giving, just like the woman herself. Their tongues touched, mated seductively, and he tasted her desire, her escalating need. By the time the kiss ended, she was breathing hard, and he was already withdrawing emotionally, from her and their relationship.

"Take me home, Ben," she whispered, wearing her own heart on her sleeve. "I want to be alone with you."

He swallowed hard, unsure what to say to her but, "Okay," because he would be taking her home.

And then he was going to walk away.


STILL out on the dance floor, Christine could feel Ben pulling back, retreating from all the feelings swirling between them, and knew that tonight she'd be fighting for the one thing she wanted most in her life.

Ben.

She understood the past pain that scarred him and kept him from taking a chance with her. His mother's abandonment. The loss of his fiancée in the most horrific way. The guilt and remorse he'd buried in the deepest recesses of his soul over the fact that he hadn't been able to save Kim from an ambush when it had been his job to protect her. And now, he believed that there was nothing left in his heart to give to another woman.

Christine knew differently.

She knew the fears he harbored. That he believed their background and lifestyles made them too incompatible and they'd never mesh for a long-term relationship. That he'd never be able to live up to certain expectations, and that he'd never have her mother's approval.

As if she cared about any of that.

Christine figured she had enough ammunition to blow every single one of his excuses into smithereens. And as soon as they arrived back at her place, she planned to do just that.

The slow song ended, and she stepped out of his embrace. "I need to use the ladies' room before we go," she said, suddenly realizing just how full her bladder was. "I'll meet you back at the table."

"All right."

He went in one direction, and she headed the opposite way toward the restrooms. By the time she walked back out, her mind was already forming every defense it could to any possible excuse Ben tossed her way. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she nearly collided into Jodie, one of the bar waitresses, who was standing in front of her.

"I'm sorry, Jodie," Christine said, giving the other woman a friendly smile. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Actually, I was waiting for you." The other woman returned Christine's smile with one of her own. "Mr. Crosby said he promised you a bottle of champagne from his private collection for your birthday. He asked me to take you down to the cellar so you can pick out what you'd like."

Earlier, when she'd been with Craig while cutting her cake, he'd told her he wanted to give her a bottle of champagne to celebrate her birthday. At the time, Christine told him that any kind of gift really wasn't necessary, even though he'd insisted. But now that she was leaving with Ben and heading back to her place, the thought of having a bottle of champagne to share with him sounded like a nice idea to compliment her planned seduction.

"The cellar is this way," Jodie said, then led Christine down a private corridor behind the main bar.

They passed a few closed doors, then stopped at the very last one at the end of the hallway. Jodie took a ring of keys from her pocket, unlocked the wooden door, and opened it wide. After switching on a light that illuminated the lower portion of the room, she started down the wooden stairs and Christine followed behind.

As they descended into the cellar, Christine shivered and rubbed her bare arms as cold, refrigerated air cascaded over her skin. "Wow, if I'd known how freezing it was down here. I would have worn my sweater."

Jodie laughed. "I know it's a bit on the chilly side, but we have to keep the cellar set at about fifty-seven degrees to keep the various wines at their peak."

The bar waitress strolled across the surprisingly large room, which looked as though it was a basement that had been recently renovated with hardwood floors, and customized ground-to-ceiling racks that could easily accommodate hundreds of bottles of wine. Most of the cubbyholes were filled, and Jodie came to a stop in front of an area that had been sectioned off from the rest of the room.

"Here is Craig's private collection, and those are the champagnes right over there," she said, pointing a finger in that direction. "He said for you to help yourself to whatever one you'd like. If you want something really nice, I'd say go for the Krug."

"Thanks. I'll take a look and see what he has." Christine wasn't interested in picking the most expensive bottle, just something she and Ben would enjoy.

Jodie shifted anxiously on her feet. "I've got to get back to my drink orders before they pile up, but you can take your time down here. When you leave, just shut the door behind you. It automatically locks from the outside."

"Great. Thanks, Jodie."

Once the other woman was gone, Christine scanned the wooden racks and pulled out a few of the foil-topped bottles to read the labels. After a few minutes of perusing Craig's very expansive collection, and shivering from the cold, she came across a Dom Perignon Rosé. Remembering once having that particular champagne at a wedding and liking the taste, she decided to choose that bottle.

Just as she turned around, she heard the cellar door at the top the stairs close with a soft "click", then slow, steady footsteps coming down the wooden stairs until Craig appeared in the chamber below, looking impeccably dressed in a black suit and crisp white shirt. His hair looked mussed, as though he'd run his fingers through the strands, but it was the eerily calm yet calculated look in his eyes that sparked a sense of unease deep inside her stomach.

"Hey," she said, forcing a cheerful note to her voice and acting as though nothing was wrong. "I just finished picking a bottle of champagne and was coming back up to thank you."

With his hands tucked into the front pockets of his dress pants, he slowly, gradually, strolled toward her, a wholly sexual smile curving the corners of his mouth. "You can thank me just as well down here." His dark gaze raked down the length of her, not bothering to disguise the fact that he wanted her.

His meaning was clear, and as frantic as her heart was beating beneath her breast, she refused to panic or allow him to get the upper hand in the situation if she could help it. She had to get out of there and away from him, pronto.