Feeling hot and bothered, she shifted in her seat and addressed the other issue Ben had been privy to when her mother had joined them for lunch. "I'm really sorry that you had to witness all that family drama back at the house."
"Hey, stuff happens." He shrugged casually as he eased the truck off an exit ramp just outside of the Chicago city limits. "I've learned to tune out conversations like that."
She shook her head, finding that hard to believe. "I don't know how that's possible. I mean, you were right there, and it's not easy to tune someone like my mother out. Believe me, I've tried."
He chuckled, the rich, warm sound sliding over her like a caress. "Okay, I'll give you that. Let's just say I hear more than I care to when it comes to my clients, but I don't judge or make assumptions. At least I try not to, anyway. It's not my place."
Which said a lot about his own moral compass. There had been too many instances in her life where people had judged her, based on something as simple as her last name, where she lived, and what her father did for a living. It was a refreshing change to find someone who didn't give a damn about those things.
"I'm glad to hear that you're not one to think the worst based on someone else's opinion, because what my mother had to say wasn't very flattering, or even very nice for that matter."
A familiar frustration reared its ugly head, and she sighed in an attempt to keep all that bottled up resentment from spilling out of her right here and now. Instead, she kept her voice calm and steady as she said, "I'm truly beginning to wonder if my mother is ever going to forgive me for calling off my engagement to Jason only months before the wedding."
Ben cast her a brief but incredulous look. "Are you kidding me? From what I've heard, the man is an ass and deserved what he had coming to him."
She lifted a brow and teased blithely, "Isn't that a bit…judgmental?"
"You and I are participating in a conversation, and in that case I'm entitled to express my opinion." His gaze scanned the area, then his rearview and side mirrors, an action he'd done routinely on the drive to his place. "I'm certain you saved yourself a boatload of future heartache by ending your relationship with him."
She silently agreed. Surprisingly, there had been no regrets when she'd broken up with Jason, just an immense, profound relief that she hadn't ended up marrying a man she didn't love. She'd known the truth deep inside even as he'd slipped a huge diamond solitaire on her finger, but her own feelings had been eclipsed by the overwhelming pressure from her mother to accept Jason's proposal. And once the word yes had slipped from her lips, she'd been swept into a maelstrom of engagement parties, bridal showers, and wedding plans.
She had Jason's careless actions to thank for stopping her from making the biggest mistake of her life.
"I just wish my mother would swallow her pride and let the whole entire fiasco die, instead of continually punishing me for something that was more awkward for me than it was for her."
"What's her problem?" he asked with a slight frown. "The guy cheated on you, and not just once. You had every right to call off the wedding."
She assumed Ben had learned from her father all about Jason's trysts with a number of call girls, along with the restraining order she'd had to issue against him shortly thereafter. "According to my mother, it was a few minor indiscretions and I should have looked the other way."
Just as Audrey had with her own husband's infidelity.
Ben made a sound of disgust. "Yeah, well, your father obviously felt differently."
True. Her father had gone so far as to not only fire Jason from his staff, but he had also dealt a huge blow to Jason's political career in Chicago-and rightly so since Jason had been siphoning campaign funds.
Unfortunately, the whole entire scenario with Jason had planted a few doubts and insecurities about her own desirability, and made her question what was lacking in her that Jason had turned to paid escorts to fulfill. Oh, sure, there had been the obvious differences between herself and the upscale prostitute she'd caught him with-such as the other woman's voluptuous breasts and centerfold curves and the provocative way she always dressed-but the things he'd been doing to and with that woman before Christine had interrupted them had been not only shocking, but so opposite of the tame, missionary-only style of sex Jason insisted on with her. There had been no passion between them, no burning desire, or even a whole lot of pleasure for her. A few quick touches, a couple of hard thrusts, and he was done.
Since she'd only had one other sexual experience to compare Jason's technique to-and that encounter had been as exciting as a gynecologist appointment, and just as memorable-she couldn't help but wonder, and fear, that maybe she shared her mother's dislike for sex and just didn't, and couldn't, enjoy the act. That like her mother, sex would always be more of a marital chore or duty rather than an unrelenting and provocative need to take and be taken in return-without hesitation or reserve.
She'd worried about those things a whole lot… until Ben. The lust and desire she experienced when she was around him was proof enough that she wasn't frigid, and she was more than ready to shed any and all inhibitions for a taste of what hot, demanding, explosive sex was like.
Minutes later. Ben made a left into a quiet middle-income neighborhood, drove down the street, then turned into a driveway leading to an apartment complex. The two-story structure looked as though it had been recently painted, and the landscaping around the building was well-kept. The place was modest and simple, just like the man.
He parked his truck beneath a carport, cut the engine, and they both got out of the vehicle. He came around to her side and they headed toward a pathway leading to the complex.
"It should only take me a few minutes to pack up what I need," he said, glancing at her.
"It's not a problem," she assured him, enjoying the way the afternoon sun glinted off his dark brown hair, streaking it with warm strands of gold. "I'm not in any hurry, so don't rush on my account."
A slow smile eased across his lips, and his eyes glimmered with animated concern. "What about your plans tonight? Don't you need to get back home so you can start getting ready?"
She rolled her eyes. "I'm not meeting my friends at Envy for another three and a half hours. Contrary to what you might think, I'm not that high maintenance."
He laughed. "I'll believe it when I see it."
They passed a chain-linked area where a small group of boys were playing basketball on a concrete court. As soon as they saw Ben, they ran for the open gate to greet him, then formed a semicircle around the two of them.
"Can you play a game of hoops with us, Ben?" One of the kids asked hopefully. He looked about twelve, as did the three other boys who'd joined him, and it was obvious by the bright expressions on all four of their faces that they were very fond of Ben.
Ben reached out and affectionately ruffled the boy's unruly brown hair. "Sorry, guys, not today."
"Awww, man." Clearly disappointed, he hung his head and scuffed the ground with the toe of his well-worn Nikes.
"Who's your girlfriend?" one of the other boys asked as he tucked the basketball beneath his arm.
"This is Christine, and she's a friend," Ben clarified, then went on to introduce her to the boys, who also lived in the apartment building.
"Well, she should be your girlfriend, because she's hot," the one named Jimmy said, eyeing her much too boldly for someone so young.
Ben cringed at the unexpected, and very suggestive comment.
Unoffended, Christine laughed. It had been a very long time since someone had referred to her as hot, and she wasn't about to turn it down. "Why, thank you, Jimmy. That's a lovely compliment."