Chapter Eleven
April
“I still say you should have let me put some makeup on those bruises. Nobody would even notice that way.”
Chris glared at her through an eye that was half swollen shut, before retorting through puffy lips, “I don’t think a professional makeup artist could cover up these bruises.”
Lauren brightened as a new thought arose. “What about a ski mask? One of those things people wear to cover up from the cold or sometimes the sun – a baklava.”
“That’s a pastry made with filo dough,” corrected Karl, wincing as his cracked ribs sent pain coursing through his upper body. “You’re thinking of a balaclava. And that isn’t a half-bad idea, Chris.”
Chris shook his head. “Except that it’s seventy degrees outside. Plus, I have no idea where we could buy something like that within the next five minutes. No, there’s no hope for it. We’re just going to have to fess up to the boss.”
Lauren’s expression darkened considerably. “Yeah, especially since the town crier is bound to spill the beans the second he walks into the room. I still say you guys should have let me push him around a little, made sure he kept his big mouth shut for once.”
Karl gave her a pat on the head, then grimaced as even that brief movement made his ribs hurt again. “I think we’ve all had enough brawling for awhile. And George won’t need to tattle to Ben about what happened, since it’s pretty damned obvious from looking at the three of us. Even you didn’t come out of it unscathed.”
Lauren scowled as they reached the conference room. “The only reason I have this bruise is because I head-butted that fat bastard a little too hard. I should have just jabbed him in the throat instead, works much better.”
Chris gave a little groan. “What we should have done was go to a different bar. That’s where all of our troubles began.”
“You mean where your troubles began, Christina,” corrected Lauren. “Karl and I only got roped into the fray to save your sorry ass. Now, play it cool and keep your head down, and maybe Ben will be too preoccupied to even notice.”
But Lauren was overly optimistic, because the very first thing their boss said as they entered the conference room was, “What the fuck happened to you all? And I want Karl to tell me. I doubt I’d believe any wild story Lauren would concoct. And Chris – well, judging from the size of that fat lip you’re sporting, I’m guessing that talking isn’t all that easy right now.”
The three of them glanced at each other hesitantly, until Ben practically barked, “Sit. Now. And explain, please – Karl.”
Lauren plunked herself down on one of the chairs, making sure it was the farthest away from where Ben was sitting and glaring darkly at each of them in turn. “I’m, uh, surprised you haven’t already heard the story from George,” she mumbled.
Ben’s eyes narrowed almost dangerously as he gave Lauren a look that sent a rare chill up her spine. “George is running late this morning, though he should be arriving any minute. The message I received said that he was under the weather. But after seeing the three of you, I’m guessing that was just an excuse. How bad does he look?”
“Oh, he looks fine,” Lauren assured him quickly. “George doesn’t have a scratch on him. He really is sick. Something he ate in Croatia, and then our flight home was pretty turbulent so he spent most of the time upchucking in the bathroom. He wasn’t even involved when we - ”
Ben held up a hand to indicate she needed to stop talking. “I believe I said that I wanted Karl to tell me what happened. So unless you want to get into more trouble than you already are, I strongly suggest you keep quiet for once.”
Lauren glowered at him before crossing her arms across her chest mutinously, but grudgingly did as she was told.
Karl took a deep breath, a not so easy accomplishment given his sore ribs. “It’s not as bad as it looks, Ben,” he began in a calm voice, his Southern drawl lazy and more pronounced than usual. “And before you ask, nobody in the place knew we were there on assignment, or that we work for the magazine. Not to mention we hightailed it out of there before the local authorities arrived.”
Ben shook his head, looking perplexed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Are you trying to tell me you all got roughed up during the assignment? Because so far as I know, your assignment in Croatia was a story about ocean kayaking and white water rafting. So unless you all capsized into some rocks, I’m going to assume the bruises and sore ribs were acquired in some other way.”
Karl glanced at Chris and Lauren before giving an apologetic shrug. “Uh, you would assume correctly. The assignment went off without a hitch. Or a bruise. Those were courtesy of a little altercation we had in one of Dubrovnik’s pubs. And not one of their finer establishments, I might add.”
“Chris here got a so-called ‘tip’”, interjected Lauren scornfully, using air quotes to emphasize her last word. “Some local told him that this bar was one of the happening places in town. Unfortunately, the only things happening were bad 80’s music and cheap booze. Not to mention some really skanky women, including the one Christina chose to hit on. The one who happened to have The Hulk’s twin brother as a boyfriend.”
Chris had the good graces to appear chagrined. “Hey, honestly, all I did was say something like “How ya doing, babe”. Next thing I know this huge guy is headed my way with a knuckle sandwich.”
Ben pointed his finger in turn at Lauren and then Chris. “I thought I made it clear that I only wanted to hear Karl’s version of this mess. Which is quickly starting to sound a lot more like a clusterfuck. So you two – keep it zipped unless I tell you otherwise. Got it?”
Chris nodded, while Lauren muttered sarcastically, “Yes, sir”, which only gained her another very dark glare from Ben. He directed his gaze back to Karl expectantly.
“Not a hell of a lot more to add,” said Karl. “This guy is starting to wail on Chris, so I tried to pull him off and got three cracked ribs for my efforts. Then the Kung-Fu Kid here decided to try and take him out with a head butt, which only resulted in pissing the guy off more and Her Majesty bruising her pretty little forehead. Meanwhile, some of The Hulk’s friends looked like they wanted to join in the fray, so Lauren pulled out her secret weapon. Literally.”
Ben shut his eyes, massaging his temples as though a blinding headache had suddenly come over him. “And what would this secret weapon be?” he asked as though in pain. “Please don’t tell me she flashed her boobs at them.”
“Good God, no!” denied Lauren vehemently. “I’m not an idiot, Ben. There’s no way I’d incite a riot by showing off the goods to a bunch of strange, drunk men. This is the weapon Karl was talking about.”
Quick as a flash, she pulled a wicked looking knife from the inside of her black leather riding boots and held it out proudly for Ben’s slack-jawed inspection.
“Never leave home without it,” she declared. “Best birthday present a fifteen year old girl could ever ask for – a Microtech OTF Scarab. My Uncle Mal gave it to me – in secret, of course, because my mom would not have been cool with it.”
Ben stared at the automatic switchblade as though it was a live grenade Lauren held in her hand instead. “That looks – lethal. And illegal.”
She waved a hand in dismissal. “Military issue, but easy enough to come by. I’ve used this little sweetheart to filet fish, cut rope, kill some really disgusting spiders, open boxes, you name it. It’s come in handy on too many occasions to count.”
Ben ran a hand over his face as he visibly struggled for control. “And you thought one of those occasions ought to be threatening – what, three, four guys – in a bar in a foreign country with it? Just tell me you didn’t actually cut anyone with it.”
“She didn’t, Ben,” assured Karl quickly. “Just the sight of it was enough for those guys – uh, probably more like six or seven by that time – to back off. And it bought us just enough time to get the hell out of there before the bouncer arrived. Lauren saved our asses once again.”
“Again?” Ben’s voice was crackling with anger by now. “So you three make it a habit to get in bar fights, do you?”
“No, no.” Karl shook his head in fierce denial. “That’s not what I meant. Not exactly. I mean, there have been a few times when – ah, hell, I’m just making it worse, aren’t I?” he muttered in disgust.
George chose that moment to enter the conference room, still looking decidedly green around the gills. He got a glimpse of the greasy, half-eaten breakfast sandwich that Chris had been taking small, tentative bites from given his swollen lip, and shuddered before taking a seat at the opposite end of the table.
Ben arched a brow at the visibly queasy producer. “Your crew members have just been filling me in about their, ah, adventures in Dubrovnik. But what I haven’t learned yet is exactly where you were when all of the action was happening.”
George’s pasty complexion quickly changed shades as he flushed bright red in embarrassment. “I, uh, was sort of there when it first began but, um, then I - ”
Lauren gave George a look of disdain. “But Georgina here ate a little too much of the local cuisine, and his apparently sensitive tummy wasn’t feeling so hot as a result. And when he saw a little blood – well, someone had to dash to the little boy’s room to puke his guts out. He finally caught up with us back at the hotel.”
“Christ.” Ben blew out a breath before surging to his feet and crooking a finger at Lauren. “You. In my office. Now.”
“Hey, why me?” she whined. “Chris was the one who started it by hitting on that skank. And may I say his poor taste in drinking establishments is only exceeded by that in women. Oh, and let’s not forget - ”
“Lauren!”
Ben’s uncharacteristic bellow caused four startled gazes to look his way. He was almost shaking with anger as he walked over to the door and wrenched it open. “Now, the rest of you. Don’t move. This won’t take long and then we can finally get on with this wrap-up meeting. And you.” He pointed a finger at George. “Go get some tea or ginger ale or a bucket, but whatever you do don’t throw up in here. Chris, get a goddamned ice pack on that lip. And eye. Karl - ” he threw up his hands in surrender. “I don’t even know what to say.”
Lauren had never seen Ben this angry or upset before – hell, had never seen him this way. But as he grabbed her arm and practically dragged her down the hallway to his office, she could almost see steam rising out of his ears. And when he slammed his office door shut behind them, for once in her life she didn’t dare say a word.
Ben rested a hip on the edge of his desk, his arms crossed over his chest as he regarded her somberly for long seconds. Lauren stubbornly refused to look away, standing her ground, and silently sending him the message that he was going to have to do a lot more than glower to intimidate her.
“I know now what your problem is,” he finally said in an exasperated tone. “Your parents and the other adults in your life tried so hard to help you deal with your ADHD that none of them ever dared to try some good old-fashioned discipline. And so help me God, I have never laid a hand on a woman in my life, but I’m this close to putting you over my knee and spanking your ass until you finally learn how to behave like an adult.”
She gasped in outrage, and strode forward until she was right in front of him, angry dark blue eyes meeting furious moss green ones. “You wouldn’t dare,” she hissed. “And dream on if you think you’ve got a chance in hell to - ”
Lauren gave a yelp as Ben unexpectedly grabbed her arm and hauled her across his lap until her denim covered ass was sticking straight up into the air. She wriggled fiercely, trying to free herself, but the arm he used to hold her in place was like an iron bar.
“I’d dare,” he told her darkly. “And you’re not the only one with some dirty street fighting tricks. Guess I forgot to mention that I took my martial arts training back up a few years ago, so every trick you know I’m betting I do, too. Now, are you going to be a good girl and listen to what I have to say for once, or do you want a sore ass in addition to that bruise on your forehead?”
“Fine,” she griped. “I’ll listen. And if you even think of spanking me, I swear I’ll bite you.”
She determinedly ignored the heat of his body beneath her, how her boobs were being squashed against his hard, muscular thighs. Her face was just about even with his crotch, and she couldn’t resist the naughty urge to glance slightly to her right. Lauren bit down on her lip to stop herself from smiling with some sort of twisted satisfaction, because it was rather obvious from the burgeoning swell behind his zipper that he was quickly becoming as aroused as she was at the close proximity of their bodies.
Ben gave a reluctant chuckle. “Some things never change, do they? But you will listen, Lauren, and for once you’re going to take what I have to say seriously. You need to learn that you can’t always crack a joke or be a wiseass to avoid dealing with issues.”
She stopped herself just in time from sticking her tongue out at him as he let her up, as well as resist the urge to rub the sore spot on her arm where he’d grabbed hold. “The last thing I’m in the mood for right now is cracking a joke,” she told him sullenly. “Instead, what I’m really in the mood for is to kick your ass.”
“Of course you are.” Ben sighed in exasperation. “You know, saying things like that are going to get you and that smart mouth of yours in real trouble one of these days. I’m shocked it hasn’t happened already. You’ve been lucky, Lauren, damned lucky. But that luck’s bound to run out one of these days, and you’re going to find yourself in a situation you can’t fight or joke or flirt your way out of.”
“Hey!” she protested. “That is not what I do! And I - ”
Ben placed two fingers over her lips. “Hush. I’m not finished. Let’s see if by some miracle you can keep quiet for the next ninety seconds or so, hmm? My money’s on no, but prove me wrong.”
Lauren gave him the evil eye but didn’t speak, merely arching an arrogant little brow and tapping one booted foot impatiently.
Ben’s expression changed abruptly from irritation to distress. “Do you have any idea how big a risk you took in that bar?” he asked her in all seriousness. “My God, Lauren, you could have been seriously hurt! Or raped. Or gotten yourself locked up in a Croatian jail. You shouldn’t have jumped into that fight. You should have called the bouncer over right away. And you sure as hell shouldn’t have whipped out a knife that’s probably illegal to possess in most countries and threaten a bunch of goons. Why in the world did you even walk inside a place like that?”
She shrugged, refusing to let herself hope that what she heard in Ben’s scolding voice might be genuine concern for her. “I told you, it was Chris’s idea. I didn’t want to be a spoilsport, or a wuss, so I just went along with the guys.”
“Bullshit. You know those guys listen to whatever you say. If you’d told them you didn’t want to go in they would have followed you without question. Sometimes it’s like watching Mary with her little lambs in tow. But you’ve always got to be the tough chick, don’t you? And sometimes I think you’re so focused on proving how tough you are that you don’t use common sense as a result.”
“Hmmph.” She shook her head in denial. “I didn’t realize you had minored in Psychology when you were at Northwestern. But you have no idea what you’re talking about here, Ben.”
“Don’t I? Karl told me a few months ago that he and the others consider you the team leader. And, yes, I realize George is technically supposed to fill that role but I think we can all agree that’s never likely to happen. You hold a lot of influence over those guys, Lauren, and I expect you to use it wisely in the future. No more fights, no more questionable bars, no more stupid, unnecessary risks. If something like this happens again, I won’t hesitate to reassign you to a different crew – one with a much tougher producer. Or even ground you if need be.”
Lauren gave a derisive hoot of laughter. “Ground me? What are you now – my father? He tried doing that a few times when I was a teenager, but I’d always find a way to sneak out and back in without him finding out.”
“Not that kind of grounding. I meant no flying. No travel.”
“Well, screw that,” she spat out. “You can’t do that to me. You wouldn’t do that to me.”
“Sure I would,” he replied easily. “If I hear of one more incident that involves you, a knife, and a fight – or anything else foolhardy that you might attempt – I’ll pull you off assignments for three months and put you on research duty. Or worse, helping Nadine. And you don’t want to push my buttons, Lauren, because I will do it. I’m responsible for you when you’re on assignment, after all, and I’m sure as hell not going to take any more risks with your safety.”
“Aw, I’m touched, Ben, really,” she said in a falsely sweet voice, patting him on the cheek. “And here I was convinced you didn’t care.”
Ben grabbed her wrist, easing it away from his face, and his dark blue eyes were stormy with emotion. “If you’d ever allow me to explain about Big Sur, then you’d know exactly how much I – ow! Fuck!”
With her right hand effectively trapped, Lauren had stomped down with her booted foot on his loafer clad foot, scowling at him fiercely. “I’ve already told you I have no interest in hearing your pathetic excuses. And you’re with Elle now, so whatever you might have to say is pointless anyway.”
“Lauren.” He shook his head, a sorrowful expression on his face. “Yes, I’m with Elle, but I’d still like the chance to clear the air between us.”
She lifted her chin stubbornly. “Well, I’m not prepared to listen, okay? So unless you want me to stomp on your other foot, I suggest you let go of me.”
Ben was quick to release her wrist and take a wary step to the side. “Fine. Especially since it feels like you just broke a toe.”
She looked with derision at his expensive Italian loafers. “If you hadn’t swapped out your own boots for these fancy ass shoes, you wouldn’t have even felt that little tap I gave you.”
“First of all,” he corrected, “that was hardly a little tap. You could have put out a fire with the way you came down on my foot. As for my old biker boots – well, I don’t have much use for them nowadays since there’s no bike to ride.”
Lauren couldn’t hide her surprise – or dismay “You got rid of your bike? Why? Don’t tell me,” she added mockingly. “It doesn’t fit with your new image? Just like the earring and the tattoo don’t. Or did your girlfriend convince you to give it up?”
“Elle had nothing to do with it,” he denied. “The bike just had too many miles on it and needed some serious work done. And once I moved to New York I didn’t really drive it all that much since I mostly use the subway or walk everywhere.”
“Do you miss it?”
Ben smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I do. I miss getting it out on the open road with the wind in my face, and no particular destination in mind.”
“Sounds a lot like the drive I took last time I was home. And pretty much the first thing I do when I get back from a trip is take the Duck out for a spin.”
“The Duck?” Ben’s voice turned wistful. “You actually got that Ducati you used to talk about?”
“Yup. A couple of years ago,” she announced proudly. “Though it’s red, not black. And it’s a sweet, sweet ride. I’m still making payments on it, but it’s been worth every penny.”
“You get rid of that pick-up truck that thought it was a Maserati?”
“Unfortunately, yes. Just like your bike, it needed a lot of work so I sold it for parts and bought a Jeep Wrangler instead. Much better for off roading since it has actual four wheel drive.”
Ben looked thoughtful. “Two new vehicles? I know you make good money but not that much.”
Lauren hesitated for several seconds before telling him, “My mom actually sold some of my photographs at her gallery. They brought in enough to pay for almost all of the Jeep. And before you start spouting legal jargon at me, there was no conflict of interest involved. Nothing was sold to a competing publication or anything like that.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” he assured her softly. “Except to tell you how happy I am for you. And proud. You’re incredibly talented, Lauren, and you always have been. I’m sure if you wanted you could easily make a living from selling your photos to galleries like your mother’s.”
She shook her head. “No way. Oh, I could probably make a good income if I wanted, but I could never give up the travel or stay in the same place all the time. As much as I love the cabin, I’ve also got an incurable case of wanderlust. I still don’t know how you gave all that up, Ben. Don’t you miss it? Regret walking away?”
The look on his handsome face was one of such poignant sadness that it made her heart ache. “Almost constantly,” he whispered.
But it was the way in which he said those two simple words – and the sorrow in his eyes as he said them – that gave Lauren serious cause to wonder if he was referring to his job or to her.
Without another word, she turned and practically ran out of his office before he could beg her yet again for a chance to explain. Because she was very much afraid that this time she might just say yes. And all of the apologies and explanations and regrets in the world wouldn’t matter any longer – not while Ben belonged to someone else.