Chapter Twelve
June
“Ben, there’s a Robert McKinnon on the line for you. Should I take a message?”
Ben snapped to attention at the mention of that particular last name. He’d been engrossed in reading over an article that one of his teams had drafted after a recent trip to Belize, and had barely noticed that a call had come in.
“No, you can put him through, Kym,” he told his assistant via intercom. “Does he, uh, sound annoyed or anything?”
“Polite but impatient,” clarified Kym. “Hang on a sec and I’ll put him through.”
“Thanks.”
Ben frowned as he wondered why Lauren’s father would be calling him. Was it possible that Lauren had finally told her family about their long ago summer fling, and her dad was calling to chew his ass out? But even as he thought such a thing, he knew that wasn’t the reason. Lauren would never allow anyone else to fight her battles for her, and especially not her father. So whatever the reason he was calling now, Ben sensed it wasn’t personal.
“This is Ben Rafferty,” he greeted in the polite but businesslike tone he typically used on the phone.
“Mr. Rafferty, this is Robert McKinnon, Lauren’s father. I’m very sorry to disturb you, but I understand that you’re my daughter’s boss?”
Robert had a deep, no-nonsense voice, and Ben could distinguish traces of a Scottish brogue here and there in his speech patterns.
“That’s correct, Mr. McKinnon,” replied Ben, his tone becoming friendlier and more relaxed. “Though I’m not certain she’d agree with that. Lauren is very much her own boss, I’m afraid.”
That earned a deep chuckle from the other man. “And how long did it take you to figure that out?” he asked in an amused voice. “With most people, it only takes a few minutes.”
“I would break that down into seconds in my case, Mr. McKinnon. What can I do for you, sir? Lauren and her crew flew out yesterday to Nepal in case you were looking for her.”
“I’m always in the loop about my daughter’s travel plans, Mr. Rafferty. Lauren is very good about keeping us updated on her schedule. But she also calls us every time she reaches her destination, and then again when she returns. And according to the itinerary she gave us, she ought to have arrived almost twelve hours ago. I even checked the flight status, and the plane arrived right on time. Her mother and I are growing concerned because we haven’t heard from her. Has she or one of her crew contacted you?”
Ben was so astonished by what he’d just heard that he was speechless for long seconds. It was only when Robert cleared his throat a bit impatiently that Ben hastily replied. “Ah, no, Mr. McKinnon. I haven’t heard from them, but that’s not unusual. I’m sure there’s a good reason why she hasn’t called you yet. Have you tried her cell phone? Email?”
Robert gave a mildly disgusted “humph”. “I get a fast busy signal every time I try to call her, and she hasn’t replied to our emails yet. I’m sure I sound ridiculously old-fashioned, Mr. Rafferty, but we do worry about our Lauren. I know she’s tougher than a dozen men put together, but she’ll always be our little girl. And when she jets off without a care to some of these godforsaken places you send her to – well, I can’t help but be concerned.”
“First of all, please call me Ben,” he told Lauren’s father gently. “And second, I share your concern for Lauren and all of my employees when they’re on an assignment. I’ll tell you what, Mr. McKinnon. I’m going to try and get a hold of her one way or another, and tell her to contact you right away. Let’s see – it’s around eight p.m. in Nepal right now.” He made a quick estimate after pulling up a time zone converter site on his computer. “They should be having dinner or just finishing up.”
“I appreciate it – Ben,” replied Robert. “And I am sorry to have disrupted you at work but Lauren’s usually so reliable about calling us.”
“Not a problem, sir. Hopefully I can get in touch with her, and have her call you back soon.”
As Ben disconnected the call, the smile on his face grew wider and wider until he was chuckling, and then laughing out loud. By the time he buzzed Kym and asked her to please bring in one of the satellite phones, he very nearly had tears in his eyes.
Use of the satellite phones was widely discouraged due to the high cost of making a call. Dutifully, Ben tried calling each of the crew on their cell phones first, and predictably got the same fast busy signal each time. Next, he tried calling the hostel where the crew was staying, but received an automated message that the call could not go through as dialed. Knowing how unpredictable communications could be in more remote parts of the world, Ben resorted to using the pricey satellite phone, knowing a lecture from Nadine about saving money would be sure to follow.
Each time a crew went out on assignment, they were given a satellite phone to take along, often for occasions just like this one. It took a minute or two for the call to connect, but then, thankfully, George picked up on the other end.
George sounded surprised to hear from Ben, and even more so when he asked to speak to Lauren. In the background Ben could hear dishes and silverware clanging, conversations being carried on, and the loud hum of what sounded like a generator.
“Ben?” Lauren’s voice sounded both perplexed and annoyed, and the connection wasn’t the greatest. “What’s the matter? Must be something big for you to break out the satellite phone. Did you get Nadine’s written permission first?’
“I don’t need her permission. For anything,” he stated. “And the reason I’m calling is because you forgot to call home. More importantly, Daddy is very worried about his little girl.” He wasn’t able to hold back the laughter for a second longer, and was quickly chuckling anew.
There was silence on the other end for long seconds, and Ben only hoped the tenuous connection hadn’t been lost. But then Lauren spoke, and he realized he’d actually managed to shock her.
“You talked to my father?” she asked, aghast. “He – he called the office looking for me?”
“We had a very nice conversation,” drawled Ben. “And he’s concerned because you didn’t call when you were supposed to. He even checked to make sure your flight got in on time.”
“Jesus, please tell me this is not happening,” she muttered. “How long ago did he call?”
“Just a few minutes ago,” he replied cheerfully. “So tell me, why haven’t you checked in yet with the folks? Especially when you know how much they worry about their baby girl?’
“Will you shut up?” hissed Lauren. “And if you dare say a word to the rest of the crew, you will definitely regret it. Big time. And the reason I haven’t contacted my parents is because this charming but bare bones hostel Nadine found for us currently has no power and therefore no internet service. And apparently, even though she was supposed to arrange for an international calling plan specific to this area, something got lost in translation because none of our phones work.”
“Why didn’t you just use the satellite phone?” Ben asked in confusion. “That’s why you have it, for situations just like this.”
Lauren scoffed. “Yeah, try telling that to George. He’s acting like the Phone Nazi about it, insisting this isn’t a true emergency and that he swore to Nadine we wouldn’t use it unless absolutely necessary. God, did you know those two have been dating? Now she has the world’s biggest wuss to do her dirty work for her. You’ve got to do something about both of them, Ben, or there’s going to be a revolt. And I’m going to lead it.”
He smiled at Lauren’s usual over-dramatization of the situation, and couldn’t suppress a little shudder at the image of George and Nadine out on a date. “Call your parents on the satellite phone,” he told her. “And that’s an order. I’ll make sure Nadine doesn’t give you shit about it.”
“Are you sure?” asked Lauren worriedly. “I mean, I won’t talk to them for more than a minute or two. Unless you’d rather call him back and tell him what’s going on?”
“No.” He wouldn’t admit that he had found Robert McKinnon to be more than a little intimidating. “I think one conversation in a day with your father is plenty. Besides, you’re the one he wants to hear from.”
“Okay, I’ll call them. And, ah, thanks,” she added hesitantly. “Sorry if he bothered you. My dad – well, he worries too much at times.”
“I don’t blame him. If you were mine – I mean, my daughter,” he stammered, desperately hoping she hadn’t caught his little slip, “I’d worry, too. So don’t keep Daddy waiting any longer and call home like a good little girl, okay?” He hadn’t been able to resist the jibe, or trying to get a rise out of her.
But all Lauren did was to mutter, “Asshole,” and then abruptly disconnect the call.
He was still grinning from ear to ear as he turned off the phone, especially since he now knew of an especially effective way to keep Lauren in line in the future. Or at least cause to tease her unmercifully.
***
July
Lauren ignored both the stares and the catcalls she received as she sauntered in the direction of her office, wishing that she was back in Big Sur where no one would have blinked an eye to see her walk by dressed like this.
If she hated New York in the winter when it was cold and snowy, then that feeling was only reinforced in the summer months when it was ninety degrees with what felt like two hundred percent humidity.
‘I feel like I’m in a sauna that’s in the middle of the Sahara Desert with a heater going full blast,’ she thought as she neared the building. She’d even switched to iced coffee this morning, since the very thought of drinking anything hot only made her sweat more.
And if she felt a tad underdressed as all of the smartly dressed women in their summer suits and ridiculously high heels passed her by, at least she was cool and not sweating nearly as much as they had to be doing. Fortunately, the dress code at the magazine went way beyond business casual to just casual – and then some. Not that it would have made a whit of difference to her this morning, when it was already eighty degrees at barely nine a.m.
Her cell phone began to ring with Julia’s distinctive tone, and she quickly fished it out of the blue and white striped canvas bag she was carrying. The thought of hauling her bulky, overstuffed messenger bag in this heat had been quickly dismissed, and she’d dumped what she would need for a day at the office into this smaller, lighter tote.
“Hey, baby sister,” she greeted. “And why are you awake so freaking early? No, don’t tell me. You’re either on your way to a six a.m. yoga class, or else Lover Boy woke you up for an early morning snog.”
“Uh, well, both actually,” admitted Julia, and Lauren knew her twin’s cheeks would be flushed a pretty shade of pink right about now. “Nathan just dropped me off at the yoga studio, and my class is going to start in a minute. But I wanted to check in, especially since we hardly got to communicate at all while you were in Nepal.”
“Don’t remind me.” Lauren grimaced. “You should have seen this dump we stayed at. Half the time the power was out, and I swear the internet worked for maybe an hour a day. And don’t even get me started on the plumbing – or lack thereof.”
“At least you’re back in civilization now,” soothed Julia. “How is my second favorite city in the world this morning?”
“Hot as fuck,” replied Lauren crassly. “And if you tell me it’s cool and foggy in San Francisco, I’m going to scream. Loudly.”
“Okay, then I won’t say a word. I, ah, understand Dad spoke with your boss while you were away. You must have been thrilled to learn he contacted Ben the Bastard to check up on you.” Julia’s voice was clearly amused.
“Yeah, just thrilled,” she grumbled. “And knowing him, he’s never going to stop ribbing me about it. At least he hasn’t told the other guys – not yet, at least. And I expect you to never mention it again, Jules. In fact, I’m invoking the Twin Clause for this one.”
“Ooh, this must have really touched a nerve with you,” teased Julia. “You haven’t invoked the Clause for a long time.”
“Unlike you,” retorted Lauren. “I’ve got way too many of your secrets stashed away, Jules. We seriously need to start archiving some of them.”
As young girls, the sisters had created what Lauren had dubbed “the Twin Clause”. Simply put, when one of them confided a deep, dark, twins-only secret to the other, they invoked the clause – which meant that they could never, ever betray what had been confessed unless given specific permission to do so.
“I haven’t told Mom and Dad about Nathan just yet,” admitted Julia. “And they are never to learn that we had a fling in New York last year. There are some things they just don’t need to know.”
“Got your back, baby sis.”
The ill-fated one night stand with Nathan – who had been newly engaged to another woman at the time - had been one of the reasons why Julia had left New York last fall. But it seemed that fate hadn’t been quite finished with the pair of them, because Nathan had wound up being the co-owner of the architectural design firm in San Francisco where Julia had started working this past January. They had fought their undeniable attraction for each other for months, and Julia had been miserable and unhappy every time Lauren had talked to her, never knowing the reason why. And then Lauren, who’d realized from the second she’d met Nathan that he had the hots for her twin big time, had made a few intentionally provocative comments, insinuating that Julia was on the prowl for a new man. That was all it had taken to spur Nathan into action and re-claim the girl he’d fallen in love with months earlier. He’d promptly broken off his engagement, and now he and Julia were as good as living together. Lauren, of course, had claimed full credit for getting them back together, and expected Nathan to treat her to a very expensive dinner the next time she was in San Francisco.
And recalling how miserable her sister had been while pining for a man who was already committed to another woman had only intensified Lauren’s own resolve to keep as far away from Ben as possible. She would never, ever settle for being the other woman, and her surprisingly high moral codes forbade her from even thinking about ways to break up Ben and Elle. Ben Rafferty had had his chance with her five years ago, and had blown it royally. And Lauren rarely if ever believed in giving someone a second chance.
“I know you do,” said Julia. “And I hope you know it’s the same for me. I mean, you’ve always been the stronger one of us, the one who looks out for everyone else. But if you ever need to talk to me about anything, I’m always here for you, Lauren.”
Lauren felt an unwelcome shimmer of tears momentarily cloud her vision, and she was thankful her eyes were hidden by a pair of oversized aviator sunglasses. “Thanks, baby girl. I appreciate it. But everything is cool with me as usual. Now, don’t you have to go do sun salutations, or some wacky stuff like that?”
Julia bid her good-by after instructing her to select a date, and a restaurant, to claim the promised dinner from Nathan. Lauren was smiling as she replaced her phone, genuinely happy to know how blissfully in love her sister was, and tried very, very hard not to be envious.
And tried equally as hard not to feel guilty. She and Julia had always been close, even though they’d had widely different interests and personalities. Lauren had always considered Julia to be her best friend and confidante – even more so than Angela, her girlhood friend with whom she continued to be close. And yet, she’d never told either of them about Ben, or even hinted that she’d been involved with someone that summer. So far as Julia knew, the Ben she had mentioned from time to time – and groused about whenever she did – was strictly her boss. It had in fact been Julia who’d dubbed him “Ben the Bastard” because Lauren had used the derogatory term every time she’d mentioned his name.
‘Not much point in telling Jules anything now, though,’ she resolved as she entered the office building. ‘What good would it do except to make me feel shitty all over again? Besides, Jules is over the moon about ole Lover Boy, and the last thing she deserves is for me to bring her down with my sad little story. Best to keep it sealed up in the vault where it’s been stowed away all this time.’
The lobby was blissfully cool from the air conditioning, and she breathed a sigh of relief as her white rubber Havaianas flip flopped along the marble floor. She ignored the male stares she received during the elevator ride up, gazing straight ahead and slurping loudly on her iced coffee with complete disregard.
Most of the office staff had become accustomed to seeing Lauren in various stages of dress and undress over the years – ripped jeans, workout gear, combat boots, plus her sizeable collection of T-shirts that bore logos from places she’d visited, rock bands she’d seen in concert, athletic events she’d participated in, along with both witty and semi-obscene sayings. Once or twice she’d even stumbled in half-asleep wearing pajamas pants and fuzzy slippers.
But even the co-workers who usually didn’t blink an eyelash when she walked past did something of a double take this morning. And when she walked into the conference room – the last one to arrive as usual – four pairs of male eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets as she dumped her bag on the table and pulled out a chair.
Ben cleared his throat, his jaw practically hanging open. “Uh, what exactly are you wearing?”
Lauren glanced down and shrugged. “Denim shorts, white T-shirt, flip flops. You know – clothes.”
At her sardonic glare, Ben flushed and dragged his gaze up from her breasts to her face. “Um, sort of. That’s not exactly what I’d deem appropriate office attire.”
Chris nudged Karl, and they both snickered. “You’re entitled to your opinion, Ben,” joked Chris. “But I’d say the rest of us can’t find one damned thing wrong with what Lauren’s wearing. Or not wearing.”
Lauren fished a wadded up napkin from her bag and threw it at Chris. “Pervert. But, really, what else is new? And excuse me, but it’s like a hundred and forty degrees outside, and I’m not willing to sweat any more than I have to. Especially when I’ve got a two mile walk here from my aunt’s apartment.”
Ben frowned. “Why don’t you take the subway? Or a bus?”
Chris, Karl, and George all looked at each other in dismay.
“Oh, boy,” groaned Karl. “Here we go.”
Lauren arched a brow in horror. “The subway? You’ve got to be kidding. And the buses are just as bad. Not only are they the very definition of claustrophobic, but they’re chock full of weirdos and rude people. The last time I rode the subway I a) got sneezed on, b) had my ass grabbed, and c) stood next to some wackadoodle who alternated between quoting Bible verses and singing Broadway show tunes. So thanks anyway but I’ll walk,” she declared.
Karl shook his head at Ben. “Now you’ve done it. She’ll be going off for the next half hour on the subject.”
***
Fortunately, Lauren wasn’t in the mood to continue her rant about New York’s public transit system, and seemed more focused than normal on the business being discussed. As usual, she drank too much coffee, kept stuffing junk food in her mouth, and had an opinion about everything – which was more often than not completely different from everyone else’s.
And, thought Ben as he snuck yet another furtive glance in her direction, she was the sexiest, most provocative, and thoroughly tempting woman he’d ever seen. He was torn between paddling that saucy little ass of hers, punishing her for dressing in such skimpy attire, and ordering the three other men out of the room so he could spread her out on the conference room table, strip her naked, and fuck her raw. He wondered if she’d dressed like this deliberately, knowing full well how the snug, semi-transparent white T-shirt clung to those sensational breasts, and how much tanned, shapely leg was bared by the denim shorts. Her long hair was pulled up into a high, bouncy ponytail, while her makeup free face glowed with health and vitality.
But even though Lauren flirted a lot, she wasn’t a cocktease, or an exhibitionist, and had more than likely dressed like she was spending the day at the beach rather than the office simply because of the brutally hot, steamy weather outside.
Whatever her intention in dressing this way had been, it was having some rather unwelcome effects on all the men in the room, and he was definitely no exception. Despite the air conditioning blasting through the room, Ben felt sweat break out on his forehead and upper lip each time Lauren stood or bent over, and the snug fitting denim shorts cupped the delectable curves of her ass enticingly. His gaze was drawn time and time again to the smooth, tanned length of her leanly muscled legs, and he knew that both the tan and the muscles had been acquired from long hours spent outdoors hiking, surfing, and mountain biking. Lauren would never have need of – or even think of using – a tanning bed or spray-on products. And the only time she exercised indoors was to take a martial arts class or to use a gym on those rare occasions when the weather prevented her from being outside.
Ben bit down on his bottom lip to stifle the low moan that would have otherwise escaped as Lauren leaned over the table to hand George some papers. The soft, clingy fabric of her T-shirt gapped away slightly at the neckline, providing everyone in the room with a mouthwatering glimpse of her deep cleavage. Ben shifted in his chair uncomfortably, and forced himself not to reach down and rearrange the erection that was pressing insistently against his zipper. And as he noted that her lacy white bra was visible beneath the semi-transparent cotton top, he reached for a water bottle to ease his suddenly dry throat.
He recalled how surprised he’d been to discover that Lauren often liked to wear silky, frothy lingerie beneath her jeans, T-shirts, and tank tops. She had blamed her extravagant collection of bras, panties, and thongs on her Aunt Madelyn, who made it a habit to send both Lauren and her twin sister regular shipments of samples, overstock, and end of season closeouts that she’d been given from various designers. He wondered now if Lauren was wearing matching white lace panties beneath those teeny shorts, or one of the miniscule thongs she had favored. Or had gone commando, as she’d often done back at the cabin. He was sorely tempted to peel those shorts off her saucy ass and find out for himself.
Just like he was practically dying inside to strip that T-shirt off over her head, unclasp her bra, and let those perfect tits tumble free into his waiting hands. His tongue longed to flick over the nipple, just before his lips sucked the entire pale pink areola into his mouth. He could remember like it was yesterday the sounds she’d made – somewhere between a whimper and a groan – as he’d lingered for long minutes over those sensational tits. She’d been such a hungry, responsive lover, such a hedonistic, sensual woman, that he’d once brought her to orgasm simply by stimulating her breasts.
“Ben, what do you think? I mean, even I admit this is something of an unorthodox approach, but I think it would really catch the readers’ attention.”
“Huh?” Ben suddenly realized that Lauren had just asked him a question, and was gazing at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. She smirked knowingly as he hastily dragged his gaze away – again – from the impudent thrust of her breasts.
“Uh, let me look it over again,” he mumbled, quickly scanning the page she’d set in front of him a few minutes ago. “What, uh, does everyone else think?”
Ben exhaled in relief as he bought himself a few extra minutes, and was able to read enough of Lauren’s outline to realize it was as brilliant and innovative as everything she did. She had a natural gift for journalism, for telling a story and bringing it to life, even though she always claimed she hated to write and would much rather leave all of that stuff to Karl.
The meeting wrapped up before one p.m., by which time he was in bad shape. Several hours of watching Lauren sashay around the room had given him a raging hard-on, and had brought back all sorts of erotic memories that were probably best left forgotten, especially given her mostly hostile attitude towards him these days.
George left the room first, as he had a lunch date with Nadine - who didn’t like to be kept waiting. Chris, Karl, and Lauren went back and forth on where to grab lunch before finally agreeing on the Jewish deli two blocks away.
“Want to join us, Ben?” asked Karl. “They make the best Reuben sandwich I’ve ever had.”
He shook his head. “It sounds great but I’m meeting Elle for lunch. Maybe another time.”
Ben didn’t know if it was his imagination, but he could have sworn Lauren’s back stiffened upon hearing Elle’s name. But she kept her face impassive, and he figured he was mistaken in thinking that the thought of Elle bothered her in any way.
“Lauren. A moment please,” he requested as she would have left with the others. “This won’t take long.”
She didn’t bother to disguise her impatience as she slung her bag over her shoulder. “I hope not. I’m starving and there’s a roast beef sandwich calling my name.”
Ben couldn’t help himself from chuckling. “How can you still be hungry after everything you just put away this morning?”
He’d lost track of all the snacks she’d munched on, whether they had been her own or ones she’d poached from the guys. He forced himself not to gulp as he pictured the way she’d eaten a package of M&M peanuts – rolling each piece between her fingers before popping it into her mouth and chewing it with slow, deliberate enjoyment. He had envied every single candy coated peanut, wishing it had been his finger – or another part of his anatomy – that had slipped past her lips instead.
Lauren shrugged. “I’ve got a super quick metabolism, burn up calories crazy fast. And I need some protein or I’m going to crash soon after all the sugar I ate. So what’s up?”
He hesitated, stalling for time as he tried to figure out a way to not totally piss her off. ‘Screw it,’ he told him resignedly. ‘That’s going to be impossible, so just spit it out already.’
“Look,” he began clumsily. “I get it that the weather’s stifling outside today, and that it’s not what you’re used to back in Big Sur. And we admittedly have a pretty lax dress code here. But what you’re wearing now – well, it’s just a little too much, I’m afraid. Or, more accurately, too little. In the future, you need to, uh, cover up more.”
Lauren stared at him for long seconds before bursting into laughter. “Oh, God, this is priceless! How long did it take you to work up the nerve to say something like that to me? And, look, you even broke a sweat over it!”
She teasingly brushed her fingers across the beads of sweat clinging to his forehead. Ben took a step back, ducking his head in embarrassment.
“I admit that I wasn’t looking forward to having this conversation, but it had to be said,” he acknowledged. “There’s casual and then there’s – um, underdressed. This isn’t an amusement park or a beach party, Lauren. In future, please don’t show quite as much, er, skin. Okay?”
Lauren was still grinning from ear to ear, clearing enjoying his discomfiture. “You know, you’re starting to sound more and more like my father. But, hey, okay if it’s that big a deal, I’ll cover up from now on. Think a burqa would look out of place here?”
“Nothing that extreme,” he replied, smiling a little at her joke. “And I know it’s probably too hot for jeans right now. What about a skirt or a – a sundress, something like that?”
She gave him an amused look. “This is really uncomfortable for you, isn’t it? You look like you’d rather be walking over hot coals or a bed of nails right now.”
“I would,” he muttered. “But you get my point, don’t you? And I don’t mean any offense, just – well, frankly, you were pretty distracting during the meeting.”
“Yeah?” She batted her eyelashes at him flirtatiously. “Did I distract you, Ben?” She moved in closer, deliberately letting her breasts brush up against his arm. Her voice lowered to a sultry whisper. “Did I turn you on?”
“Lauren. Don’t.” His voice was rough, guttural. “This isn’t – appropriate.”
She stepped back, all hint of humor immediately replaced by a look of scorn. “Yeah, right. Appropriate. Proper. Just like your perfect, ladylike girlfriend. So you think I ought to wear a skirt or a dress every so often, huh? Maybe be more like Elle?”
Ben shook his head, fighting with every ounce of self-control he possessed not to yank her back against him. “No. That’s ridiculous. I couldn’t think of two more opposite individuals than you and Elle. You’re nothing alike.”
“Except for one thing.” She stepped in close again to murmur wickedly in his ear. “Apparently we both have the same taste in men.”
She patted his cheek before giving him a little smile and then strolled leisurely out of the room. And in spite of himself, he couldn’t help staring at her ass in those ridiculously short shorts as she walked down the hallway.
***
One Week Later
“Here’s your wine. They didn’t have Sauvignon Blanc so I hope Chardonnay is okay.”
Elle smiled as she accepted the glass. “It’s fine, thanks. I doubt anything they’ll serve is going to be of very good quality so I’m not sure the vintage matters.”
Ben took a sip of his own glass of red wine. “Well, these office parties aren’t known for having top of the line food and drink.”
Elle made a little moue of displeasure. “We actually have a very good caterer we use for these types of events at The New Yorker. I should give his name to whoever organizes these things here.”
Ben chuckled. “Don’t forget that this is a very different sort of crowd. More like beer and nachos rather than wine and brie.”
“I suppose you’re right. Still, everyone seems to have dressed a little nicer than usual. And you were wrong, Ben. You’re not the only one here wearing a suit.”
Ben took another sip of his wine and refrained from pointing out that having two other men in the entire room wearing a suit hardly qualified it as a crowd.
They were attending an after-work cocktail reception for a recent retiree from National Geographic Travel. Elle had prodded him until he’d reluctantly agreed to wear one of his suits, knowing full well that he’d get ribbed about it from his staff and peers. Fortunately, the weather had cooled off a lot over the past week, largely due to the rain that had swept through the city a couple of days ago. Even so, Ben still couldn’t help tugging at his shirt collar every few minutes.
As they walked around the room greeting and chatting with other guests, Ben noted – not for the first time, of course – how at ease Elle was at events such as this one. She had been a great help to him in navigating through all of the social niceties expected at such occasions, and he knew if he’d been left to his own devices that right about now he would be standing in a corner somewhere alone, or sticking with the same small group of people he felt most comfortable with. Or counting the minutes until he could make a discrete exit.
Unlike Elle. who lived for these types of events, who had been brought up attending parties and receptions from girlhood. She both looked and acted the part of the poised, sophisticated professional, knowing exactly what to say. She wore one of her seemingly endless supply of chic little black dresses, this one of a summer weight fabric that bared her Pilates-toned arms, and a pair of low-heeled black slingbacks. Her dark hair was sleeked back into its usual chignon, and pearls glistened discreetly in her ears and around her throat.
She seemed happy and content this evening, which was a huge relief to Ben after the argument they’d had two nights ago. He had been tired and stressed out after another hectic day at the office, but had still consented to going out to dinner with Elle and her former roommate who was in town for a visit. He’d been nearly comatose from fatigue upon arriving home, and had been largely incoherent when she’d kissed him good night and told him she loved him.
And when he’d merely smiled tiredly in response, Elle had grown teary-eyed and Ben had felt guilty yet again at not being able to say the words back to her. One thing had led to another, and soon she’d been weeping and telling him in her very best martyred tone that he didn’t have to feel obligated to stay with her if he didn’t want to. Ben had sighed, knowing this particular scene by heart, and had quietly offered to move out if that was what she really wanted. But Elle had flung her arms around his neck, begging him to stay, and assuring him that she didn’t mean it, and that she was sorry for being a nag.
The next morning she had acted as though none of it had ever happened, and things had returned to normal. But Ben knew it didn’t take much to set Elle off, and that it was only a matter of time before another such incident occurred.
He thought at times that it would just be kinder all around if he were to move out and allow Elle to get on with her life, to find someone who could truly love her and give her everything she deserved. He had told her just that on more than one occasion, but each time she’d pleaded almost desperately that she didn’t want to lose him, that she was perfectly content with the state of their present relationship, and that he didn’t need to worry about her feelings.
And truthfully, their present relationship far more resembled that of the platonic roommates they had been at one time, or best friends, than it did of lovers. He worked late so often, and was so worn out when he was at home that he didn’t have the patience it took to be intimate with Elle. She found it almost impossible to be spontaneous, had to schedule or plan out sex as though it was an appointment on her day planner. And she was usually so prim and reticent in bed that it took awhile for him to become aroused. Then, too, her parents had been spending more time than usual in New York over the past few months, and Elle still stubbornly refused to share a room with him while they were in residence.
He shouldn’t have minded, really, given the lengthy periods of celibacy he’d endured in the past. But it seemed that whenever a certain curvy, troublesome photographer was in town – and in his proximity – that all of a sudden he was constantly horny.
He’d jacked off in the shower just this morning, in fact, with an image of a glistening wet Lauren washing her body more than enough stimulus to bring on an almost violent climax. She had been the most spontaneous lover he’d ever known, had always been eager and almost voracious for sex, and he’d kept his fingers crossed that he would be able to keep up with her.
While Elle was deep in conversation with her father’s good friend the editor-in-chief, Ben excused himself to get another glass of wine. As he took a sip of what he considered a decent Merlot – though Elle had told him it was barely palatable – he almost choked when he spied the woman who stood in his direct line of vision.
He recognized her – knew her – and yet she looked completely different from any previous image he had of her. She looked like a femme fatale, a sexy pin-up girl, and he had never wanted her more than he did at this exact moment.
She had apparently taken his half-joking advice to wear a skirt and then ran with it. Though there was no possible way she could run a step in the snug fitting black skirt that clung to her hips and ass lovingly. And he wondered how she could even walk in those red stiletto heels. A sleeveless white silk tank top and a wide red patent leather belt that cinched her small waist completed her simple but screamingly sexy outfit.
Lauren normally pulled her abundant hair back into a braid or ponytail, but this evening it fell in thick, glossy curls halfway down her back. And she was even wearing makeup – including bright crimson lipstick that made her mouth look like the most forbidden fruit ever created. He wanted that lush, red mouth wrapped around his cock, wanted to plunge his tongue deep inside of it, wanted to kiss her until they were both breathless and dizzy.
She glanced up and saw the way he was looking at her, and for a few moments it was as if five years had never passed. She, too, was drinking red wine, and she smiled as she raised her glass in a mock toast before taking a sip.
He started walking in her direction without conscious thought, not stopping until he was right in front of her. Up close, she looked even more delectable, her sumptuous breasts more than filling out her top, and the lavish lace of her bra was clearly visible beneath the fine, silky fabric.
“You, ah, look – different,” he said haltingly. “You look – nice.”
She snickered. “Nice? Is that the best you can do, Blue Eyes? Nice is how you describe what your grandma is wearing. But then, for a writer, you always were a man of a few words. Strange. So why don’t I tell you what I think of your outfit instead?”
Ben took a fortifying sip of wine, grateful that he’d kept his suit jacket buttoned since it helped to hide his burgeoning erection. “Okay. Have at it.”
Lauren ran a finger down the sleeve of his jacket. “Hmm. I’m not anywhere near as good at this as my sister or aunt, but I’m going to guess this is Armani.”
He nodded, gritting his teeth as the scent of whatever perfume she was wearing – another first – teased his nostrils and made his cock feel like it was going to burst.
“Fancy,” purred Lauren as she tugged playfully on his tie. “Silk. Very nice. In fact, dressed like this you might have had a chance with my sister. She’s got a real thing for a man who can wear a suit as well as you can. Which, for her, has resulted in a couple of really bad lapses in judgment where men are concerned.”
“But I take it you’re not a fan of this look?” he observed.
“Of the suit?” She shrugged. “It’s okay. But it’s nowhere near as sexy as a pair of faded jeans and an old T-shirt. In fact, this whole scene here – ” she waved an arm around the crowded hotel reception room – “isn’t you. I’m guessing you’re hating all this bullshit as much as I am, and would much rather be drinking a cold beer and chowing down a bacon cheeseburger.”
His mouth quirked up at one corner. “Is it that obvious? And here I thought I was putting on a convincing act.”
Lauren shook her head. “I mean, you might be fooling most of the others, but not me. There’s not a lot that gets past me, after all. Not to mention the fact that I know the real you. And this,” she gestured at his suit and loafers, “is definitely not the Ben I met in Big Sur.”
He gazed down at her, unsmiling, and for a few moments completely forgot there were a couple of hundred other people in the room. Those eyes of hers – the ones that saw everything, missed nothing – were locked with his, and he wished with all his heart that he had the guts to yank her against him and capture that plush, sinful mouth in the longest, deepest kiss anyone here had ever witnessed.
“There you are, Ben. I was wondering where you’d taken yourself off to.”
And then the bubble was abruptly popped as Elle sidled up against his side, clutching his arm possessively. He quickly broke eye contact with Lauren, and gave Elle a reassuring smile. “Sorry. I was just getting another glass of wine when I saw Lauren and came over to say hello.”
Elle’s smile was polite and utterly false as she turned to greet Lauren. “I see. Well, I’m surprised you recognized her. You, ah, look very different tonight, Lauren.”
She did not say that Lauren looked beautiful or even nice, and it was obvious – at least to Ben – that she was both irritated and jealous right about now. And while her mouth might have been fixed into some semblance of a smile, the look in her dark eyes was almost terrifying.
But Lauren wasn’t easily intimidated, and smiled lazily. “Well, someone told me recently that I should consider wearing a skirt once in awhile. So I figured no time like the present.”
Ben stared down into his wine glass, not trusting himself to offer up a reply at this moment. When he’d made that suggestion he had admittedly had a very different type of skirt in mind – something loose fitting and floaty, that fell below the knee, perhaps made of cotton. He certainly hadn’t pictured her in this sexy, tight fitting number that made her look like a 1940’s screen siren, and especially not paired with those insanely alluring red stilettos.
Elle’s returning smile seemed to have grown even tighter, her lips a thin, pinched line. “I see. Is your outfit new then?”
Lauren continued to grin wickedly, almost as though she was deliberately baiting Elle. “Yup. Fortunately my aunt knows how much I hate shopping, so she picked out some stuff for me and I just popped by her office this afternoon. And since her office is in a department store, that made things very convenient.” At Elle’s puzzled expression, Lauren explained, “My aunt is Madelyn Benoit, the head buyer at Bergdorf’s. And I did not inherit any of her fashion sense, so I rely on her and my sister to pick out most of my nicer clothes.”
Elle was visibly taken aback at this information, and quickly gave Lauren’s outfit another quick lookover, most likely realizing that it was designer and had cost more than her own dress and shoes.
She gave Ben’s arm a little tug. “Well, we should really mingle a little more. I’m sure Lauren understands.”
But before Elle could pull him away, Karl and Chris descended upon them, exchanging handshakes and greetings and wolf whistles for Lauren.
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you in a skirt or dress that I forgot how nice you clean up,” joked Karl as he flung an arm around her shoulders and gave her a friendly smooch on the cheek. “Got a hot date tonight, kiddo?”
“Not yet,” replied Lauren regretfully. “But the night’s still young. You up for making the rounds tonight?”
“Absolutely. We’re all flying home tomorrow so might as well enjoy our last night in town for a few weeks. You up for some clubbing, Chris?”
“When am I not? Do you two want to join us?” Chris asked Ben and Elle.
Ben hesitated while scrambling for a plausible excuse – definitely not wanting to watch Lauren trolling for men – but Elle smoothly answered for them.
“I’m afraid we already have dinner plans, but thank you for asking us. Perhaps another time.”
He wondered if she intentionally tried to sound as uptight and formal as she did, her British accent very pronounced this evening and sounding extra stuffy. But Chris, Karl, and Lauren seemed unfazed, merely shrugging and moving on to the next topic.
Chris eyed Lauren’s wine glass with interest. “Is that the merlot? I couldn’t decide between that and the cabernet. Mind if I have a taste?”
Lauren moved her glass out of his way and eyed him warily. “Depends. Did you get tested yet?”
Chris rolled his eyes. “Are you still on that? I’ve told you not to worry about it. As usual, you’re making a big deal out of nothing.”
“Nothing?” Lauren shook her head in revulsion. “I’m sorry, but I could practically see the STDs crawling up that skank’s arm. And until you get tested, you are not putting that mouth of yours on anything I’m eating or drinking.”
At Ben’s and Elle’s looks of confusion, Lauren quickly explained. “During our layover in Moscow on our way home from Nepal, Chris here hooked up with a – ah, let’s call her a female of questionable moral standards. Karl and I have been after him ever since to get tested for every social disease known to the modern world.”
Chris scowled. “I used protection.”
Lauren patted him on the cheek. “Honey, even if you used two condoms it wouldn’t have been enough with that skank. So until you can prove to me you’re clean, I’ll be keeping my food and drink to myself.”
Ben bit down on his lip, trying like hell to suppress the laughter rumbling up inside his chest. Meanwhile, the look of horror on Elle’s face compelled him to make their excuses and whisk her away before she could say anything in response.
But unfortunately, she had plenty to say after they returned home after dinner. She’d been moody and mostly silent during the very uncomfortable meal, and Ben could almost see the anger building up steadily inside of her. She had also had more to drink than usual, only this time the alcohol had made her tense and edgy rather than giggly and charmingly tipsy.
“You’re having an affair with her, aren’t you?”
The accusation she fired at him as soon as they walked inside the brownstone startled him, and he could only stare at her, speechless.
“What?” he asked, completely taken aback. “Who are you talking about? And, no, I’m not having an affair with anyone. Where did you get an idea like that?”
“I saw you with her,” accused Elle, swaying a little on her feet. “You and that foul-mouthed bitch Lauren. I saw how she kept touching you and laughing. And I saw the way you kept looking at her. You thought she looked hot, didn’t you? And I know the two of you are sleeping together so stop denying it!”
Ben was flabbergasted. “Elle, nothing happened at the party. That’s just the way Lauren is, she flirts with everyone. And I am not sleeping with her. I wouldn’t do that to you, Elle, wouldn’t cheat on you with another woman. That’s not who I am, and I would have thought you knew me better than that.”
Elle was weeping now, the tears tracking down her cheeks. “You’re lying,” she sobbed. “I know there’s something between the two of you. I saw the way you were looking at each other.”
He shook his head. “No, Elle. There’s nothing going on between us. You’re imagining things now, letting your jealousy get the better of you. Come on, let me make you a cup of tea and get you calmed down, okay?”
“I don’t need to calm down!” she screamed, growing more and more agitated. “I just need you to tell me the truth. Are you sleeping with that whore?”
Ben closed his eyes, knowing that when Elle got herself into this kind of state there was often no reasoning with her. She simply had to work through the episode, cry it out, and then finally collapse in exhaustion. And while it was on the tip of his tongue to finally tell her about his past relationship with Lauren, the wild, almost hysterical look in her eyes changed his mind. There was no possible way she would take the news well while she was in this condition, and he was seriously afraid it could push her over the edge. He would have to find another time to tell her, when she was calm and reasonable and he could explain it all properly.
So instead he took her into his arms, holding her gently as he soothed her. “Stop this, Elle. You’re going to make yourself sick. And for nothing. I am not having an affair with Lauren or any other woman. I’m here with you, Elle. Okay?”
But as she sobbed against his shoulder, her slender, almost fragile body shaking in reaction, he knew that he wasn’t being completely honest with her – either about his past love affair with Lauren or the fact that he would probably never stop loving her.