Virgin's Sweet Rebellion

‘You’re worth it,’ he told her, and guided her to a chair at a table in the centre of the restaurant, by a window that overlooked the Tiergarten.

‘Technically,’ she answered, ‘you don’t know that.’

‘You think I have any doubts?’ Ben asked, one eyebrow arched in amused disbelief. ‘A single kiss has kept me awake all night. I’m not worried, Olivia. And you shouldn’t be either.’

Colour touched her cheekbones and she reached for her napkin. ‘Fine...’

‘Now, now, let me.’ Smiling he took the heavy linen napkin from her and spread it in her lap, letting his hands linger on her thighs. Sparks leaped in Olivia’s belly. She nearly shuddered.

Okay, she wasn’t really worried. They had chemistry, definitely. But it still felt new and strange—and exciting.

Very exciting.

‘So what’s on the menu?’ she asked lightly. ‘Besides me, of course.’

‘Nothing nearly as delicious as that,’ Ben answered, his lips twitching in a smile, ‘but I’ll do my best.’

She glanced around the empty restaurant once more. ‘No wait staff?’

‘I gave them the night off.’

‘I hope they appreciated it.’

‘Considering they were fully paid, I think so.’

She swallowed. Audibly. ‘You’ve gone to an awful lot of effort, Ben.’

‘I wanted to,’ he said simply. His gaze was warm and steady and made Olivia swallow again. He wanted to...for her. When had anyone wanted to do anything for her? She’d been the one always striving and trying so hard to prove herself. Now she thought she might like to be pampered. Spoiled. Because she was worth it.

Except you know you actually aren’t.

She pushed that treacherous little voice away and smiled at Ben. ‘Thank you,’ she said, and he smiled back.

‘You’re welcome. And now I need to get the first course.’

She sat back, trying to let herself relax and enjoy the beautiful, luxurious surroundings as Ben fetched their first courses from their kitchen. She wondered what he’d serve her. Oysters on crushed ice? Not that she actually needed an aphrodisiac. Her whole body was buzzing with both adrenalin and expectation.

He returned a few minutes later with two plates of paper-thin beef carpaccio artfully arranged amidst sprigs of thyme and drizzled with olive oil.

‘I kept it simple,’ he told her as he laid the plates on the table. ‘Had more important things on my mind.’

‘Do you mean you cooked for me?’ Olivia asked, and Ben gave a self-deprecating smile and shrug in reply.

‘I thought someone in the kitchen might spoil the mood.’

‘It looks delicious.’ She felt both touched and humbled by how much effort he’d gone to. The restaurant was awash in candlelight, the food and wine beyond delicious. And Ben himself...he looked serious and intent and rumpled and gorgeous. In other words, perfect.

Olivia knew, with a heartrending certainty, she’d never forget this night. She’d never want to. The thought brought a lump to her throat. As far as flings went, this was already off the charts in terms of her emotional investment...which was more than a little scary.

‘You Chatsfields certainly know how to make a girl feel special,’ she said teasingly, and a tiny frown appeared between Ben’s eyebrows.

‘Us Chatsfields?’

‘Surely you didn’t fail to notice the huge billboard James took out in Times Square when he proposed to Princess Leila?’ Not, she realised belatedly, that she wanted to be making that comparison. ‘Were you close to your brothers?’ she continued quickly, desperate to get the conversation on a different track. ‘Spencer and James?’

‘I know their names.’ Ben’s gaze roved over her, mouth tightening. So, a sensitive subject apparently. ‘Yes, we were, actually, very close.’ He lowered his gaze, the candlelight casting his face into planes of light and shadow. ‘We called ourselves the Three Musketeers.’

‘And which one were you? I admit, I haven’t read the book, but I’m familiar with the film version.’ She smiled, wanting to dispel a little of the darkness she saw in his eyes. ‘Were you Athos? Aramis? I can’t remember the name of the third one, the one who was a dandy...’

‘Porthos,’ Ben filled in with a faint smile. ‘I don’t know which one I was.’ He paused, his long, lean fingers toying with his fork as a frown furrowed his forehead. ‘If one of them was a peacemaker,’ he said slowly, ‘that was me.’

‘A peacemaker,’ Olivia repeated thoughtfully, fascinated by this sudden insight into Ben’s childhood. ‘Were there many arguments?’