conversation with Christine any longer. Saving the security report in his Word file, he shut down the laptop computer and leaned back on the wide, comfortable couch. Clasping his hands behind his head, he forced himself to relax and rerouted his thoughts to something more mundane, like the contrast of his basic, barely furnished apartment with Christine's beautifully decorated house.
When they'd arrived at her place, he'd been pleasantly surprised by the modest size of the house in an upscale neighborhood that boasted two-story monstrosities and enormous, custom-built homes. In comparison, Christine's house was a small, three-bedroom structure that was perfect for someone who was single and lived alone.
Since he needed to know the exact layout of the place for security reasons, she'd given him a tour of each and every room, as well as showing him the guest bedroom where he'd be staying for the next several weeks. Her master bedroom, he noted, was just down the hall from where he'd be sleeping.
In the two years he'd lived in his apartment, he hadn't bothered to do anything to really make the place his own. To him, it was just a place to eat and sleep and shower, and occasionally on the weekends enjoy a few games on the big-screen TV. Christine, on the other hand, had completely transformed her new house in just the few months since moving in. Decorated in neutral tones and accented with brighter shades of deep reds, burnished oranges, and forest greens, the place was warm and inviting in every way, and so opposite her parents' lavish home.
He found himself smiling as he recalled the proud way in which she'd told him that she'd bought the place on her own, without her father consigning on the loan. She'd used part of a trust fund left to her by her grandparents on her mother's side to make a deposit that would leave her with a monthly payment she could afford, and kept the rest of that money untouched. She was determined to do it all on her own for the first time in her life, without depending on anyone to help her out, and he couldn't help but be impressed by her fortitude.
"Okay, so I'm not nearly as quick as you when it comes to getting ready," he heard Christine say. "But I did get a phone call that put me about ten minutes behind schedule, if that counts for anything."
Ben shifted his gaze from the contemporary framed art that he'd been staring at to the woman walking toward him, looking like a temptress in the purest form of the word. Stunned by the transformation, and unable to help himself because he was a man, after all, he took in her jaw-dropping outfit, along with that sensual gleam in her bluer than blue eyes and the blond hair that now fell to her shoulders in a sexy, disheveled mass of curls, and felt his mouth go dry and his groin tighten with an unequivocal heated awareness.
He immediately sat up straight before his reaction to her became obvious.
If that teal, off-the-shoulder sweater molding to her breasts and outlining the enticing curve of her waist and hips wasn't enough to make a man do a double take, then those black suede knee-high boots with a four-inch heel and that thigh-skimming miniskirt would render a guy brainless.
He knew this because he suddenly couldn't speak or think beyond imagining her strolling over to him, straddling his lap, and living up to the bad girl image that outfit of hers portrayed.
Good God, he was certain he was going to have to beat back half of the male population at Envy tonight, because somewhere along the way Christine had transformed from a wholesome girl-next-door into a sultry vixen.
As the silence stretched between them, she tipped her head to the side and regarded him with a good amount of amusement. "I take it you like the outfit?"
He shrugged his stiff shoulders and attempted a nonchalant façade, unwilling to admit just how much her ensemble affected him. "It's okay."
A half-smile lifted the corner of those glossy pink lips that made him think of sweet
When they'd arrived at her place, he'd been pleasantly surprised by the modest size of the house in an upscale neighborhood that boasted two-story monstrosities and enormous, custom-built homes. In comparison, Christine's house was a small, three-bedroom structure that was perfect for someone who was single and lived alone.
Since he needed to know the exact layout of the place for security reasons, she'd given him a tour of each and every room, as well as showing him the guest bedroom where he'd be staying for the next several weeks. Her master bedroom, he noted, was just down the hall from where he'd be sleeping.
In the two years he'd lived in his apartment, he hadn't bothered to do anything to really make the place his own. To him, it was just a place to eat and sleep and shower, and occasionally on the weekends enjoy a few games on the big-screen TV. Christine, on the other hand, had completely transformed her new house in just the few months since moving in. Decorated in neutral tones and accented with brighter shades of deep reds, burnished oranges, and forest greens, the place was warm and inviting in every way, and so opposite her parents' lavish home.
He found himself smiling as he recalled the proud way in which she'd told him that she'd bought the place on her own, without her father consigning on the loan. She'd used part of a trust fund left to her by her grandparents on her mother's side to make a deposit that would leave her with a monthly payment she could afford, and kept the rest of that money untouched. She was determined to do it all on her own for the first time in her life, without depending on anyone to help her out, and he couldn't help but be impressed by her fortitude.
"Okay, so I'm not nearly as quick as you when it comes to getting ready," he heard Christine say. "But I did get a phone call that put me about ten minutes behind schedule, if that counts for anything."
Ben shifted his gaze from the contemporary framed art that he'd been staring at to the woman walking toward him, looking like a temptress in the purest form of the word. Stunned by the transformation, and unable to help himself because he was a man, after all, he took in her jaw-dropping outfit, along with that sensual gleam in her bluer than blue eyes and the blond hair that now fell to her shoulders in a sexy, disheveled mass of curls, and felt his mouth go dry and his groin tighten with an unequivocal heated awareness.
He immediately sat up straight before his reaction to her became obvious.
If that teal, off-the-shoulder sweater molding to her breasts and outlining the enticing curve of her waist and hips wasn't enough to make a man do a double take, then those black suede knee-high boots with a four-inch heel and that thigh-skimming miniskirt would render a guy brainless.
He knew this because he suddenly couldn't speak or think beyond imagining her strolling over to him, straddling his lap, and living up to the bad girl image that outfit of hers portrayed.
Good God, he was certain he was going to have to beat back half of the male population at Envy tonight, because somewhere along the way Christine had transformed from a wholesome girl-next-door into a sultry vixen.
As the silence stretched between them, she tipped her head to the side and regarded him with a good amount of amusement. "I take it you like the outfit?"
He shrugged his stiff shoulders and attempted a nonchalant façade, unwilling to admit just how much her ensemble affected him. "It's okay."
A half-smile lifted the corner of those glossy pink lips that made him think of sweet
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