Julia gazed up at him intently, as if gauging his veracity. Slowly the stressed expression on her face faded, replaced by a dawning ease.
“I’d like that,” she answered.
A smile tugged up the corners of her full lips, loosening the knot of disappointment her earlier admission had gnarled in his chest.
“Good. You ready to wow me with your skating skills?” he asked, because as far as he was concerned, pretty much everything else about her wowed him already.
Chapter Eight
“Are we all ready?”
Ben’s simple question coming from behind her startled Julia, heightening her nervous jitters. She tore her thumb from her gnawing teeth before she ruined another manicure. Her second this week thanks to the terrible nail-biting habit she couldn’t kick in times of high stress.
And tonight was definitely a high stress moment.
Months of committee meetings, phone calls, and networking with local vendors and the event-planning company had coalesced into this moment: bringing her vision for the fund-raiser to life.
“It looks amazing,” Ben said, awe tingeing his deep voice.
Pride swelled in Julia’s chest.
“You’ve done an incredible job,” he added.
“Everyone has. Tonight’s a huge group effort.”
Ben nudged her shoulder with his as he joined her at the gilded balcony railing overlooking the expansive Wintrust Grand Banking Hall. The scent of his earthy aftershave tinted her next breath, an intoxicating aphrodisiac.
Together they took in the view below where workers bustled about, finalizing last minute preparations to the open-aired space.
The well-known building’s neoclassical and Gothic Revival architecture, often photographed and admired in magazines and Web sites, had been transformed into an island holiday celebration. Round tables with seats for eight were elegantly dressed in deep red, green, and gold linens. Several towering Christmas trees flanked the wide columns on either side of the space, each tree decorated with Puerto Rican-themed ornaments. Glittering balls with the country’s red, white, and blue flag, miniature musical instruments commonly played during parrandas, beach-inspired baubles, and little doll-sized pavas, the traditional straw hats worn by many Islanders, hung from the branches. Potted palm trees interspersed among the traditional Christmas firs along the hall floor and across the back of the stage, their fronds glistening with tiny white lights that sparkled.
In a nod to the importance of the Three Kings in Latino cultural celebrations, life-sized carved and masterfully painted wooden statues of the three figures bearing their gifts stood at the entrance of the room, facing the stage erected at the far end. In the back left corner of the stage, on a thin bed of hay, nestled similarly crafted statues of Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus in a manger.
A set of choral risers had been set up center and stage right, with Ben’s emcee dais, a simple lectern in brushed black metal, placed down center stage. Lightweight, it could easily be lifted and placed out of the way on the floor level once the parranda started with the kids.
Above the stage, an illuminated Star of Bethlehem measuring three feet from tip to tip hung in the air. A guiding light for the Tres Reyes on their journey toward the baby.
In Julia’s mind, and she hoped in the minds of the attendees as well, the children from the youth center signified the future. The money raised tonight, gifts from those more fortunate, would provide much needed funding for resources that would assist with better ensuring these inner city kids and others in similar situations had more opportunities to grow and flourish and achieve their goals.
“Team effort, huh?” Ben asked. “How did I know you’d forgo taking credit for envisioning the wonderland that awaits ticket holders tonight?”
Julia glanced at him on her left, her snappy comeback faltering in the face of his devastating handsomeness.
A dark navy tuxedo clung to his broad shoulders and muscular thighs as if it had been tailor made for him. The color heightened his icy blue eyes, the wool material stretching over his biceps and across the expanse of his wide chest. The silk trim at his lapel and pockets along with the silk stripe trailing down the outside seam of his pants, neatly complementing the navy silk bow tie, had her thinking of him as her very own Christmas present. One that, as time passed, she wanted more and more to unwrap and keep all to herself.
Edging a minuscule step closer, Ben placed a hand on the small of her back.
“I know I already said this, but it certainly needs repeating.. . . You look incredible.” His deep voice caressed her fidgety nerves, calming her.
At the same time, the warmth of his palm on her bare lower back sent waves of desire undulating through her.
She’d wondered what Ben would think of her dress when she’d slipped into it earlier. Seeing the flare of appreciation in his eyes made her happy she’d followed Lilí’s fashion advice.
The wine-colored, slim-fitting, backless dress had been a last minute splurge. Earlier in the week, Lilí had balked at the plain, black, midcalf sheath dress Julia had planned to wear.
“¿Pero, chica, qué es eso?” Lilí had screeched.
“What do you mean, what’s that? It’s my outfit for the benefit,” Julia answered, scowling at her meddling cousin.
“No way!” Lilí had gaped at her, scandalized. “I’ve been to a few of the Taylors’ fund-raisers before. Listen, you’re the mastermind of this one! You want to shine, but not look like you’re trying too hard. And this”—Lilí pinched one of the long sleeves that flared to a bell shape at the wrists—“this is definitely not shine worthy.”
A coffee-fueled run to Filene’s Basement on Michigan Avenue Wednesday afternoon had resulted in the bargain-priced, floor-length gown. Sleeveless, it featured a cowl back that draped open nearly to her waistline. The red, stretch crepe material clung to her curves, flaring slightly in a trumpet silhouette that highlighted her slim figure and made her feel sexy, yet stylish.
Julia had swooped her long hair up in a loose, messy bun, then settled on natural makeup with red
