The clapping has died down, and there is nothing I can join. I continue to eye my glass when Julian rises from his chair and walks over to the man who is seated to my right. The gentleman whose name escapes me is jovial and nods after Julian whispers in his ear. Smiling, the man rises from his chair and excuses himself. Rather than leave the table altogether, he walks over to Julian’s unoccupied chair and sits next to the woman who will be fucking the man I’m attracted to. At first, Shira is disappointed, but after a brief introduction, a grin so wide forms on her attractive face.

“Lina.” Just the sound of his deep voice excites me.

“Julian, why did my dining partner change seats? What did you tell him?” I ask, surprised.

“Sebastian is a movie producer, and I thought it only fitting that he sits next to an aspiring actress.”

“Oh.” Why am I disappointed with his answer? Julian looks amused. “Lina, truth be told, I want to be next to you. We haven’t had a chance to talk.” He reaches for my glass and takes a sip of my water.

“What are you talking about? We spent most of the day together.” I shake my head.

“Yes, but I need to apologize for this afternoon,” he says as I become possessed by his eyes.

“I’m sorry as well.”

Julian places his hand on top of mine. “I’m the one who was an arse. Sometimes I forget that we’ve been apart …” He shakes his head. “Let me start again. I want to spend as much time with you as possible,” he announces while revealing a wonderful smile. Sincere and sexy at the same time and still so mischievous.

Please, please just kiss me.

My eyes focus on his bottom lip. I’d like to bite it.

And then he does it. Oh, dear God. He bites the corner of his own lower lip and it. Turns. Me. On.

Stop looking at his full, luscious lips.

The sound of a grown woman giggling saves me from my own salacious thoughts.

It seems that I’m not the only one thrilled with Julian’s company. Sebastian’s wife, Mary, who is seated next to my crush, interrupts us. Charmed by his presence, Mary is awkward, now asking him questions about his business, his hobbies, and even his love life. Julian is gracious, answering several of her prying questions, and for a few more minutes, he engages in mindless conversation as she giggles like a schoolgirl the entire time. When she brings up his love life, he simply offers, “I’ve never had a serious relationship, but it doesn’t mean I haven’t found the right woman.” His eyes bore into mine, and suddenly, I am interrupted by servers.

Men and women dressed in long tuxedo coats parade around the dining room, refilling water and cocktails. As time passes, more servers enter, serving some of Marcel’s favorite dishes. Our meal consists of pear and Gorgonzola flatbread, roasted pork tenderloin with apricot-mango chutney, and wild mushroom polenta. Dessert is simple, chocolate mousse. Although there are about fifty guests at the party, dinner seems more intimate. Julian confesses, “Astrid hired a party planner and originally wanted to throw an extravagant birthday party, one that would have included Cirque du Soleil and fireworks.” He rolls his eyes. “Father, however, wanted something more intimate.” I survey the room and agree it is a select few. With the exception of Julian’s ‘friend,’ everyone in the room means something to Marcel. They are either a relative, a good friend, or a colleague he had done business with for years.

“I’m amazed all these folks were able to come at the last minute. It speaks volumes about your father,” I say while admiring most of the attendees.

“I agree. Father had been a recluse for so many years. I have to admit that calling each and every one was time consuming, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way.” Julian gazes at his father’s table. “Even with all his faults, Father is a good man. He has helped everyone in this room in some way.” I ponder Julian’s words and know that I am also included in the select few Marcel has helped in the past. He was my loving surrogate father for so many years.

To my left is Alistair who for the past few minutes has been sharing a conversation with Sebastian. Alistair surprises me when he asks, “Is there something going on with the two of you?” pointing directly at me and then at Julian.

I choke at his question before answering. “Umm … no, not at all.”

“Are you sure about that?” Without missing a beat, he continues, “Julian is clearly enamored with you. He’s been by your side most of the night even though he is with that dimwit,” he says, nodding in Shira’s direction. Julian’s date looks perfect even though she’s talking at a ridiculously loud volume.

“My God, she’s annoying,” Alistair says before taking a sip of his whiskey. “So are you and my cousin going to finally fuck?”

My eyes widen. I cough again and nervously laugh. Alistair hands me a glass of water. “I think you should drink this before you choke on all my questions.” He chuckles and doesn’t bring up Julian for the rest of the dinner conversation. Instead, he and Julian banter while I sit between them. Yeah, poor me, sandwiched between two handsome men. I overhear comments about Alistair’s latest conquest, a Spanish supermodel he enjoyed for the past few months. “Marisol is very beautiful, smart, and wealthy in her own right. But then she broke the cardinal rule.”

“What cardinal rule?” I ask, realizing that I intruded upon their conversation.

Alistair drinks his cocktail before declaring, “Marisol wanted something I could never give a woman … commitment. There are too many dishes I have yet to try. I’ll never fall in love.” He takes another sip and gives me a wink.

Never fall in love.

I sigh, and instantly, I am saddened by Alistair’s admission. How could someone never fall in love? Rather than dwell on it, I think about my own situation and wonder, if I have ever been in love? I love Andrew, but I don’t think I’ve ever been in love with him. I’ve never felt the all-consuming feeling that my father had preached about.

I sigh again. Thankfully, a server saves me from my own thoughts by placing a large serving of chocolate mousse in front of me.

“Well, I think they forgot me,” Julian mutters while blatantly staring at my mousse.

The waiter looks embarrassed. “I apologize, sir, but it is indicated in the seating chart that you declined dessert.”

Julian and I now eye my former seating partner. Sebastian is a heavyset man in his late fifties who has barely touched his meal. Mary adds, “Sebastian is on a strict diet,” before continuing to savor her dessert.

Without a thought, I spoon a small piece of my chocolate mousse and raise it to his mouth. “Julian, have a try.” Closing his eyes, he gladly accepts my offering. At the sight of his long eyelashes and curved full mouth, I am taken aback. How could someone be so beautiful? He is only inches away from my face. I see every pore on his skin. The scar on his cheek, more pronounced. There is a small trace of stubble and his heady scent hits me. With a hint of chocolate on the outer corner of his upper lip, I wonder what it would taste like. His mouth deserves to be kissed.

How many have had the fortune of tasting his lips?

I swallow.

What would it feel like to have those beautiful lips caress my inner thighs?

I freeze.

Everyone at the table is watching the intimate moment I had just shared with Julian a few minutes ago. He takes the spoon in front of him, preparing to feed me. “Delicious, your turn.”

All of the sudden, I am unable to enjoy my dessert. All I want to do is hide. I glance up, and both Shira and Alistair are staring directly at me. Alistair smirks, and Shira pouts. Actually, she looks like she’s about to jump across the table and bitch-slap me. “It’s okay, Julian. I don’t think I can eat anymore.”

Getting into a catfight would be not be cool. Do not pay attention to the woman glaring at me with vicious eyes.

“Lina,” Julian utters to gain my attention. “Chocolate mousse. I specifically requested this for you.”

This gorgeous man really knows the way to my heart.

He nudges my arm before I finally fake defeat. “Okay, how can I say no to that?” When I turn my body toward him, I am met with a spoonful of chocolate mousse that is irresistibly delicious. This is so good. With the pad of his thumb, he wipes the chocolate on the corner of my lips. “Wasn’t that delicious?” he asks before biting his full bottom lip again.

Oh God, help me.

With the exception of my growing arousal and the dampness between my thighs, the rest of the meal is uneventful. The servers have started to clear the dishes, and I excuse myself. Not too far from the dining area is a powder room that I escape to. My underwear is soaked, and all I want to do is remove my thong. I become nervous. I’ve never walked commando before. I realize that’s the least of my concern. Where the hell would I put my underwear? I’m not carrying a bag. Dammit! Just keep them on for a few more minutes.

Ten, maybe fifteen, more minutes and then I’ll head back to the guest bedroom where I can fantasize about the delicious Englishman who excites me in ways I’ve never imagined before. After checking my reflection in the mirror, and satisfied with my appearance, I return to the party.