If Sara had been sober, she would have high tailed it out of there right then and there. Instead, she lifted her finger and rubbed the end of his nose. "You're a verrrry bad liar, Pino-cccccchio."

His mouth twitched as he held back a laugh. "Now I'm some lame Disney character? Can't I be a dashing prince or something?"

Sara let her finger drop down and trace his bow tie. She saw he, like Trevor, also wore a tux. But his bow tie was already loosened. She figured Ella had gotten to it.

"You need a big white horse to be a true Disney prince. Sooooo sorry," Sara teased. She tilted her head to the side so that her long hair fell onto his hands.

He lightly combed his fingers through her hair.

"I already have a horse," Bentley whispered into her ear. "His name is Lightning."

Sara sat up straight on his lap. "Oh! Oh! Oh! I could kiss you!" She covered her mouth again with her hands and burst out laughing.

Bentley's eyes began to smolder. He slid his hand across her stomach. And then he started to tickle her.

Sara's mouth opened in surprise. She hated to be tickled. Charles had always tickled her. She was about to shriek when Bentley quickly put his hand over her mouth.

"Shhh, you'll wake the dead." He nodded his head in Ella's direction. She and Trish rested asleep together against the pillows of the couch.

Sara gently fought against his hand, but he wouldn't release her. He seemed to enjoy watching her struggle.

"Thuuusss isn't fummmy," she grumbled against his hand.

He snickered, showing a row of bright white teeth.

Oh dear all things good, Sara thought dreamily. But then she re-focused her unfocused gaze back onto her captor. He didn't look as if he was going to set her free anytime soon.

So she licked the inside of his palm.

"Oooh, now that's hot!" he moaned. He pulled her roughly up against him, pinning her to his chest. And then, to Sara's absolute shock, he stuck his warm, tender tongue into her ear.

"Ahhh!" Sara shouted in alarm. She rubbed her ear frantically. Then she rolled off Bentley's lap, into the sand.

He caught her hand before she could stand up. "I just Frenched your ear, and this is all the thanks I get?" His face broadened into a devastating smile again.

"You have a girlfriend," Sara hissed. "And she's sitting right next to you." She pulled up the silk strap of her top. It threatened to fall down to her elbow.

Bentley kept a firm grip on her hand. He placed his free arm behind the back of his head. He stared daggers at her. Though the daggers were mixed with shooting stars and explosions of mini fireworks.

"Most girls don't matter to me," he said with a sneer. "And besides, you're not my type."

Sara sucked in her breath. Did he really just say that?

Well, what did you expect? she thought to herself. He has everything. He's a celebrity. He can do whatever he wants with whomever he pleases.

"Not your type?" Sara spat. "Tell that to your disgusting tongue in my ear."

For just an instant, he almost looked guilty. But then the neutral, stony expression was back in place on his beautiful face.

"And I never said you were my type either!" Sara growled. Suddenly sober and now fuming mad, she snatched her hand out of his grasp. Then she shot up, out of the sand, and sprinted back towards the house.