“Okay, so let’s try again. I’m River and you are . . .?”

My eyes scrutinized his face in search of a non-verbal clue. I found it instantly in his grin. Poking my finger into his chest, I slowly eyed him before taunting, “I’m not sure you need to know that information right now. I’m kind of thinking you might be a stalker.”

His eyes widened as he laughed at me. “You’re not serious are you beautiful girl?”

Unable to control my own laughter, I simply said, “Maybe I am,” but my laughter subsided when I realized the sweet name he’d given me.

Leaning toward me, he was close enough that I could inhale his fresh scent. It was soapy, just out of the shower, a simply amazing smell.

“What? If you’re not going to tell me your name then I get to call you whatever I want.”

Averting my eyes from his gaze, I looked down.

After taking another sip of his beer, he set the mug down. He hooked my chin with his finger and tilted my head up toward him. His lingering touch seared my skin and left it tingling. He stared at me with his intense green eyes and chuckled a little. “Can we talk about you thinking I’m a Jack the Ripper type? I just want you to know, I’m definitely not. In fact, I think it’s safe to say you were staring at me first, but in no way do I think you’re a stalker.”

His touch made me quiver and my mouth dropped open. I was unsure of what to say. I knew he was right. I had stared first. I was surprised that he would call me out on it.

Cocking his head to the side he said, “So we can get past this; let’s just say I was staring first. Not that it really matters.”

We were looking into each other’s eyes as the bartender presented me with my bill. When I turned to pay for my drinks, the connection was broken. Handing my money to the bartender, I thanked him and told him to keep the change. This diversion gave me some time to think about how to handle this potentially dangerous situation. I also had to consider my love for Ben.

I watched River as he ordered two more beers, and I realized that I had to figure out these strange new feelings I was experiencing. I wanted to explore them further because our initial connection from a distance had intensified; not only from his nearness, but also from his total honesty and raw charm. I pushed aside any feelings of guilt about my flirtatious behavior. I handed him one of the shots and said, “Cheers.”

People were bumping into him, into me, but neither of us seemed to care. He looked down at my shirt and back up again before lifting his shot glass to clink mine.

“It’s a beautiful day,” he toasted before drinking his shot.

I tried not to show how turned on I was that he had just quoted the lyrics from one of my favorite songs. All of his irresistible gestures throughout this encounter were competing for first place in my head, but all of them deserved it.

Setting his shot glass down, he put his hand in his pocket. “So, does this mean you forgive me?”

The sound of his voice was strong, but soft, and made him even more tempting. I found myself thinking that he was not only adorable, but he was something else entirely. I knew I shouldn’t be doing this. I had a boyfriend that I loved waiting for me.

I raised an eyebrow and questioned, “Forgive you? Forgive you for what?” I was having a hard time concentrating on the conversation and honestly had no idea what the apology was for.

He shifted on his feet. “You know what? Never mind,” he muttered in my ear. His warm breath reached my neck and I wanted to feel it everywhere.

Looking me up and down, he changed the subject and asked, “What, no costume?”

Continuing with this dangerous flirtation, I glanced down my own body, motioning with my hands from head to toe. “How do you know this isn’t my costume?”

While tugging on my t-shirt and pulling me a little closer, he seductively whispered, “If that's your costume you’re definitely taking first place in the contest because it’s the sexiest one I’ve ever seen.”

We were silent for a minute; not even our heavy breathing could be heard. The noise from the bar and the crowd of the people around us had extinguished, but his words, his touch; they inflamed me, excited me, and sent fire through my veins.

“Where'd you get this anyway?” he asked, tugging at the knot on my shirt pulling me even closer.

It felt like the room was spinning and I wasn’t sure if it was him, the alcohol, or the fact that he just asked me a question I didn’t want to answer. “My dad managed The Greek and was a collector of concert t-shirts,” I said, trying to push back the emotion welling inside me.

He seemed to understand my hesitation, maybe from my use of the word ‘was’ or maybe from my body language. He nodded, cleared his throat, and once again totally changed the subject.

“So, have you ever seen Foreigner play?” he asked, now pointing to his own shirt and grinning.

As I looked at the bold white letters across his shirt, I pushed aside all of my sadness and focused on our conversation. We were just two people who had a lot in common, talking, or at least that was what I wanted to think. When our drinks were gone, he ordered another round. As I finished the shot, I accidentally slammed the glass on the bar, causing a loud crack and the bartender glowered at me. I mouthed, “Sorry.”

River reached out and grabbed a strand of my hair that had come loose from my ponytail. He very slowly tucked it behind my ear, sending shivers down my spine. Circling his index finger around my ear, he lightly tugged on my lobe. He sparked a heat within my body that I didn’t know existed. He did this in one swift movement, causing my scalp to tingle while my ear lobe was on fire.

Gulping the drink I didn’t need to be drinking, I hoped to extinguish that fire. I also hoped no one saw him touch me that way. Ben would be f**king furious. He was ridiculously jealous and we had many arguments about other men, all unjustified. At least until now.

As the strobe lights started to flicker and I leaned my hip against the bar for support, he put his hand on my waist and turned me so my back was against the bar. Had he noticed I almost lost my balance because of the flashing lights and my own dizziness? Moving to stand directly in front of me, he put his hands on either side of me and pressed his palms into the bar. He was effectively enveloping me, but I didn’t feel trapped at all. I honestly didn’t know what I felt, but I knew my heart was pounding out of my chest; my stomach was doing flips, and I got light-headed as the goosebumps returned.

He braced his arms on both sides of me and I thought he was going to kiss me as he stared intently into my eyes. I closed my eyes preparing for the kiss but I felt him abruptly pull away. Immediately, I heard a high-pitched voice squeal, “River, don’t forget we’re leaving right after the show,” and before I could catch a glimpse of the girl, she bounced away.

Smirking at me he said, “My little sister has the worst timing.”

I was going to respond when I heard a strange drum roll echo through the bar. Glancing around, I tried to figure out what it was for. With an amused look on his face, he rolled his eyes before shifting them to the stage and back to mine. “That would be for me,” he laughed, leaning in so we were face to face. “They want me back on stage. I’ve gotta go unless you'd rather I stay and we finish what we started? Because that certainly would be way more fun.”

I really hadn’t heard anything he said, but everything seemed to finally make sense. He was the enamoring voice I heard when I came into the bar, and right now he was so close to me I could feel his warm breath and smell his soapy scent. He was so charming, so captivating, and so aware of me. I was pretty sure I was drunk because I was feeling things I should not have been feeling. As I stared into his powerful green eyes, I knew I should’ve been trying to swim out of them.

Before I could say anything in response, he moved his head slightly back, lifted my hand, and slowly kissed it. Then he leaned into me and whispered right in my ear with his wet lips, “Guess not. Not yet anyway.” My hand was on fire, my ear scorching; I should have dressed up as the Wicked Witch of the West because not only was I pure evil, I was melting.

That same strange drum roll rumbled through the sound system again and he quickly dunked his head back to look at me. “I gotta jet.”

He was still holding my hand, as he looked straight into my eyes. “You'll wait for me until after the show.”

It wasn’t a question, more like a statement. And then motioning between him and me, he added, “Because this isn’t finished.”

At that moment I realized that what had started as harmless flirting had turned into a situation that had gotten way too dangerous for me; it was bordering on trouble.

He placed his hands on the bar, surrounding me in his arms again, but not touching me, and waited for a response. Since he hadn’t really asked a question that I wanted to answer, I just smiled and said, “If you’re in the band you’d better go, you shouldn’t leave your fans waiting.”

He took that as a response, or maybe he didn’t, since he wasn’t really looking for one. Maybe he was just in a hurry. But either way, he gave me one last heart-stopping grin and then leaned in and kissed me. My body reacted strangely to his kiss. A rush of something I couldn’t identify surged through me. At first he only lightly touched my lips with his then for a few short seconds he pressed a little harder before pulling away. I didn’t kiss him back, but I was completely lost in the moment.

“I hope you’ve become a fan,” he said, winking at me before grabbing his hat. Then he turned and walked away.

I brought my fingers to the place he had just kissed and watched as his silhouette walked away; taking in the sway that had captivated me from the moment I laid eyes on him. I became vaguely aware of the music being piped through the sound system. The song Superstition was being played overhead, but I wasn’t really listening to it because my mind was on him.

I shook my head, trying to rid the thoughts that should not be in there. I knew I had to leave, or I would end up doing something that I would regret. I had to leave for two reasons. First, I loved Ben, and second, Ben would f**king kill River just for looking at me the way he did. And then there was the kiss; yes, Ben would do more than kill him.

Knowing these things, I wondered why I hadn’t walked away in the first place. For a moment there, I felt as though I believed in love at first sight, which I didn’t. And how could love at first sight even exist when you were already in love with someone else? I didn’t want to analyze the events of tonight because I was confused as hell, and the answers would not be what I wanted to hear.

I smiled about my exchange with this enamoring stranger. He definitely was not a stalker. He was a guy that was adorably charming and utterly charismatic, a guy who had a simple ease about him that I really liked, and a guy I didn’t ever need to see again. This I knew for certain because our complete awareness of each other scared the shit out of me, and his touch did something to me. It made me afraid that the danger would win out, and I wasn’t going to let that happen. I had a boyfriend that I loved, and he was waiting for me at his house.

With thoughts of River swirling around in my head, I made my way through the crowd to the dance floor where I found Aerie with some kind of pink drink in her hand. “We have to leave. Now!” I shouted at her while pulling her off the dance floor.

“What? Why? Are you sick?” she asked, struggling for words.

Then she turned and pointed to the stage. “Because if you’re not, I want to see that hot guy sing first.”

I turned to see where she was pointing and sure enough it was at him, River, the guy who captivated me with his charm and attitude. It was then that I realized I’d never even told him my name.

Pulling Aerie through the crowd under protest, I heard the audience chanting River Wilde, River Wilde. I glanced up to the stage just in time to see him grab the microphone. Before the live music started we exited through the door, and Aerie started yelling obscenities at me. As we walked away I found myself thinking I had just met the most enchanting guy and knowing that I might never be the same.

Chapter Three

IT’S NOT MY TIME

Looking into the future I see the plans we have

And the dreams that we both share

Happiness is what we believe

But we are in a world that tries to take it away

I wish it wasn’t my time.

March 2010…

I looked in the mirror, trying to decide whether or not the pearl necklace would take the edge away from my deep V-necked black cocktail dress. The bathroom counter was covered in different necklaces, our dirty clothes were in a heap on the hamper, and dirty towels were thrown all over the floor. I smiled when I glanced up and saw Ben’s reflection in the mirror. He was leaning with his shoulder on the bathroom doorframe, a wicked grin on his face, and a wild glimmer in his piercing blue eyes.

“Pearls or no pearls?” I asked as I watched him stride toward me in the mirror. I had known him since I was five years old, but for some reason the way he looked at me then left me breathless.

Ben wrapped his tan arms around my waist and started to kiss my neck. I could feel the soft, warm skin of his freshly shaven face. “Dahl, I’d prefer nothing at all to be perfectly honest,” he muttered while he began to unzip my dress.

“Hey, we’re going to be late,” I quipped. “LA is at least an hour drive.” I tried, unsuccessfully, to wiggle out of the one arm he still had around my waist as he continued to unzip my dress with the other.

Still watching Ben in the mirror, I saw him bite his lip as he let out a little groan. “Well, it’s my party, and I can be late if I want to,” he whispered in my ear then resumed kissing my neck. Ben looked incredibly hot in his black tuxedo with slicked back hair and a clean-shaven face. I felt a slight stirring throughout my body from his close proximity, which made me decide against wriggling out of his arm. Instead, I turned around to look at him.