Now and Again

by Rothert, Brenda

  “Get in bed with me,” she mumbled.

  “I’d better not,” he said, pulling the covers up to her chest. “You sleep now. I really like you, too, and I feel bad about the hangover you’re gonna have tomorrow.”

  Layla thought about answering, but sleep had a powerful pull, and she gave in to it.

  The throbbing sensation in her head slowly worked its way into Layla’s consciousness. She cracked one eye open and was greeted by the bright rays of morning sun, forcing her to squeeze it back shut again.

  What’s with this headache? Oh, shit. No. I’m hungover.

  She sat up, looking around her bedroom. Had she slept with Ben? She remembered wanting to.

  He said I looked beautiful. We drank. He’s a Marine …He carried me somewhere. Oh, no. I didn’t really offer to blow him, did I?

  She jumped from her bed, looking down at her wrinkled shirt and jeans from the night before. So that was a good sign. She hadn’t removed any clothing.

  The letter from the day before came back to the front of her mind, and she thought of Prince, looking over at his bed in the corner of her bedroom. Empty. Her heart raced as she ran to the living room. She stopped, her mouth dropping open at the sight of her dog curled up on the floor under the glass coffee table. Ben was asleep on the couch, his legs bent at the knees since he was too tall to fit on it.

  He shifted, seeming to sense her presence, and jolted awake, looking alarmed by his surroundings.

  “Layla,” he said groggily. “Shit, what time is it?”

  He squinted at the sunlight streaming in the window, sitting up. Layla’s hands flew to her hair, which was in a mangled ponytail. She pulled out the elastic and ran her hands through it.

  “It’s 6:45,” she said, looking at the clock. “Go back to sleep if you want.”

  “No, I have to go,” Ben said, pulling on his shoes.

  “But – it’s so early. Do you want coffee?”

  “No, it’s okay.” He didn’t even make eye contact as he walked to the door.

  “Wait!” Layla called as he reached for the handle. “Did we…?”

  “No!” He flashed a look of annoyance at her. “You think I’d do that when you’re drunk?”

  “I don’t … I just don’t remember. God, my head hurts.”

  “Take some Tylenol and go back to bed. And lock the deadbolt when I leave. I stayed because I knew you wouldn’t be able to lock it last night. I left my number on the table. If you get scared or if anything weird happens, call me, okay? I don’t live far.”

  “Okay,” she said, her head swimming from uncertainty and the pounding headache. She’d never experienced an awkward morning after with someone she hadn’t even slept with.

  “Alright, see ya,” he mumbled, slipping out the door.

  “See ya,” she said to the closed door. Prince stretched and looked up at her.

  “You want to go for a walk, don’t you?” she said. He recognized the word and crawled out from under the table, heading for the door.

  Layla went to the bathroom to change into a clean shirt, fix her hair and brush her teeth. As she flipped on the light and saw her reflection, she groaned. Worst raccoon eyes ever.

  So Ben had seen her shoeless and sweaty, drunk and stupid and now a hungover mess. She scrubbed the eye makeup from her face with one hand, searching the medicine cabinet for Tylenol with the other. She found the bottle and fished two pills out, downing them with a glass of water and sighing. As usual, she’d made a mess of things.

  Chapter 3

  The briefing on an ongoing narcotics investigation wasn’t holding Ben’s attention. He looked ahead at the stocky, graying deputy chief who was talking, but his mind was on Layla.

  There was something about her that just sparkled. She was sharp and edgy, but he liked that about her. Women who fell all over him were a dime a dozen. When he was with her, she stole all his attention. He hadn’t been able to look at anyone else at O’Malley’s Saturday night.

  And sleeping on her couch? He’d never slept over at a woman’s place, and waking up there was alarming. He’d really botched things, rushing out so quickly. Now it was Wednesday and he hadn’t heard from her.

  But why would I? All I said was that she should call me if she’s scared. I should have told her to call no matter what. Maybe I should call her. No. I’m not chasing after her. I could text her. That might creep her out since I looked her number up in the work database.

  He slipped his phone down to his side, concealing it beneath the table as he typed out a message.

  Hey, it’s Ben. How are you?

  A return message popped up right away.

  Fine. You?

  He wrote back.

  Fine.

  And then nothing. He rolled his eyes inwardly. Apparently they communicated best in person.

  “Sergeant, am I boring you?” the deputy chief asked. Most of the heads in the room swiveled Ben’s way.

  “No, sir,” Ben said, pressing his phone against his leg.

  “I thought I saw an eye roll.” The deputy chief’s snicker was followed by others.

  “Uh, that wasn’t intended for you, sir.”

  “That’s a relief. Hell, I’m getting bored myself. Let’s wrap this up.”

  Ben stuffed his phone back in his pocket, focused on the briefing he had to give in a few minutes to a group of detectives. He’d have to think about Layla later.

  ***

  Charles Bradshaw was Layla’s least favorite of the partners at her firm. He had a weathered face, a white comb over, and usually, a sour expression.

  “Do you think you can handle the hearing on the Pinnacle case on your own?” he asked, raising his bushy brows skeptically.

  “Sure. I’ve got everything I need in the file,” she said, meeting his eyes. He didn’t look away, and Layla started to feel like she was in a staring contest.

  “Alright,” he finally said, slapping his knees as he rose from the leather chair in front of her desk. “It’s all yours.”

  He glanced over at the photo frames arranged in the wide cherry bookcase near the door.

  “What in the world happened to you here? And why would you put up a picture of it?” he asked, leaning closer to look at a photo of Layla.

  “Oh, it’s a mud run. I was all muddy because I did an obstacle course in the mud,” she said, smiling. “It’s a lot of fun.”

  Charles shook his head as he left the room and Layla smiled.

  He needs to retire. He has to be in his 80’s. Poor old thing’s gonna drop dead in this place.

  She scrolled through messages on her phone and saw a text from Emma asking her to call. Layla stared at it for a second before she dialed.

  “Hi,” Emma answered. “How’s it going?”

  “It’s okay. How are you?” Layla spun her chair around to look out the large window of her modest office. She had the side of the building that offered a view of another building rather than downtown. The only movement she could see was a bird flying in the distance.

  “Good. I wanted to ask about the guy you met up with the other night at the pub. Did you guys have a good time?”

  “Oh. Ben.” She considered lying, but why bother? “I got wasted and made an idiot out of myself.”

  “Oh.” Emma’s voice was tinged with sympathy. “And you haven’t heard from him since?”

  “No, I’ve heard from him. He slept on my couch that night and he’s texted a couple times. I just saw a text from him asking me to come to the pub again tonight.”

  “That sounds good. Do you like him?”

  Layla sighed, considering. “I like him too much, Em. He’s just too sexy and it makes me nervous.”

  “Why nervous?” Emma asked.

  “Because of my lifestyle change. I feel a lot better about myself now that I’ve stopped screwing men for entertainment.”

  “But … you don’t want to stay that way forever, do you?”

  “Maybe. If I find someone I want to have a stab
le, long-term relationship with, I’d consider sleeping with him. But Ben’s not that kind of a guy.”

  “What kind of guy is he? Where did you meet him?” Emma sounded intrigued, and Layla’s heart skipped as she remembered her first meeting with Ben.

  “I met him because of a case at work. He’s a detective. He’s like six and a half feet of solid muscle. But he’s the intense alpha type, and you know how Type A I am. It just wouldn’t work.”

  “Yeah, I can’t picture you with a cop,” Emma said.

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know, I guess I just picture you with a corporate type. Someone who wears a suit every day and makes a ton of money.”

  “Ben does wear a suit every day and he looks damn good in them,” Layla said defensively. “And I make my own money. I don’t want a man taking care of me, it’s not the 1950’s.”

  There was a pause, and Layla cringed. “Em, I didn’t mean to say that.”

  “No, it’s okay,” Emma said. “I don’t like not working, trust me. I think I found a building for the bakery. Do you want to see it sometime?”

  “I’d love to.”

  “I’d suggest tonight, but since you’re not seeing Ben tonight … tomorrow night?”

  Layla suppressed a laugh. “Uh … okay,” she said. “I may have dinner with him tonight, but that’s all it’ll be. Dinner. No skin to skin contact.”

  “Nothing wrong with that. You’ve got to eat,” Emma said.

  “Right. So I’ll see you tomorrow night? Text me the address?”

  “Okay. Have fun.”

  As she hung up, Layla considered how much she missed talking to her sister several times a day. It wasn’t tense when it was just the two of them, but she didn’t think it would ever stop feeling awkward when Cole was around.

  She sighed deeply, spinning her chair around from the window and clicking her mouse on her jammed email inbox.

  Layla scanned the crowded bar for Ben, finding only unfamiliar faces. She was wondering whether he was there yet when she saw him standing at a pool table with several other men. Their eyes locked and he gave her a smile that made her heart beat faster. He handed his pool cue off and walked over.

  “Hey, it’s my favorite attorney,” he said. Layla sighed as she stared at the navy blue t-shirt stretching across his chest and arms, with the Chicago Police Department logo on one side. She looked down and noticed the definition of the bulging muscles of his thighs, covered with dark hair and on full display in gray shorts. This was a blatant attempt to make her ogle him. She looked away with a small eye roll.

  “You disapprove of my workout outfit?” he asked, grinning. “Not dressy enough for you?”

  “I don’t disapprove, I just think you like attracting attention,” she said, shrugging.

  “You mean your attention? No one else seems to be checking me out right now.”

  Layla scoffed, wondering if he’d asked her to come just so he could tease her.

  “Are we getting a table?” she asked.

  “Already done.” He led the way to a small booth in the corner, and she slid in, reminding herself not to drink anything alcoholic tonight.

  “I guess you know you’re attracting a lot of attention yourself in that dress,” Ben said. Layla looked down at her fitted turquoise J. Crew dress. She’d taken off the jacket she’d worn over the sleeveless dress at the office.

  “What’s wrong with this? I wore it to work,” she said, furrowing her brows.

  “There’s nothing wrong with it. You look great. But those guys in the next booth were looking at your ass when we sat down. And you definitely have my attention, but that’s always the case.”

  “So you’ve missed me,” she said, dipping a toe into the water of the game he played with her. He grinned widely and was opening his mouth to respond when a waitress approached their table.

  “Hey,” she said to Ben, smiling. Layla felt a flare of jealousy toward the redhead, but kept her face impassive. Ben smiled politely at her and Layla noted he didn’t check her out. The waitress left after they ordered, and Layla sighed, feeling the sexual energy that permeated every encounter with Ben.

  “You seem tense,” he said. “You’re not always wound this tight, are you? Is it because you’re maybe missing something you need? Has it been a while since you’ve had … something that relieves tension?”

  Layla’s lips parted slightly at the boldness of his question.

  “Are you asking--”

  Ben cut her off. “I’m just asking if there’s something you need that I could give you. Like maybe … a cupcake. Everyone loves cupcakes.” His eyes twinkled with amusement, and Layla’s heart picked up speed. His voice was so deep and sexy, and even though he was teasing her, she wasn’t able to make herself get pissed over it.

  “Well, I do love a good cupcake,” she said, a slow smile spreading across her face. “And it has been a while since I had one … but what makes you think I want a cupcake from you?”

  Ben scoffed, raising his eyebrows.

  “I’d give you the best – cupcake – you’ve ever had,” he said, meeting her eyes. “You’d be begging for more. If you want an average cupcake, find someone else. I can only give you the best.”

  “It takes a lot of practice to be the best,” Layla said. “Maybe the thought of being just another cupcake doesn’t appeal to me.”

  Ben shrugged, looking away. “If you prefer some greenhorn, you wouldn’t like me. But I guarantee that after you had my cupcakes, you’d never want anyone else’s again.”

  Layla couldn’t help letting her gaze wander over his thick blond stubble and down to his hard wide chest.

  “That may be true,” she said. “But maybe I’m not as confident in my cupcake making abilities as you are. The thought of your cupcakes is … a little daunting.”

  “That’s the beauty of it, Layla,” Ben said, leaning close enough that she could smell his clean scent. “You just let me do all the work while you enjoy the cupcake.”

  Layla laughed loudly, throwing her head back.

  “You don’t know me very well, Ben,” she said. “I’m not the least bit passive. I think you’ll have to peddle your cupcakes elsewhere.”

  “That’s too bad,” he said, his eyes darkening. “The idea of having a cupcake with you is really appealing.”

  Layla laughed again, trying to conceal her arousal. “Well, if I get hungry enough, maybe I’ll call you.”

  ***

  Layla pressed her lips together as she surveyed the large room. Piles of rusted metal, wadded paper and other debris lined the walls, stacked several feet high. The dark purple walls were only decorated with spray painted profanity. In some spots, the wall board was missing, revealing wood slats. Several ceiling tiles dangled by their corners, ready to join the others that had fallen to the floor.

  Don’t say a word. Don’t be critical. This is Emma’s dream.

  Layla coughed and dug into her large purse for the bottle of water inside.

  “It’s dusty,” Emma said apologetically. “And I know it’s rough, but if you can just see past that … what do you think?”

  “Uh…” Layla coughed again, twisting the cap off her water bottle quickly and taking a swig. “I think if anyone has the vision to make this place nice, it’s you.”

  “You can be honest,” Emma said, smiling. “It’s pretty bad, isn’t it?”

  “It’s a fucking dump,” Layla said, nodding.

  “But we’ll get it cleaned out this weekend,” Cole said, walking up behind Emma and wrapping an arm around her waist. “I got the dumpsters ordered today. And some of my friends are coming to help out.”

  “I’ll help, too,” Layla said, looking down at the paint-spattered wood floor. “But once the junk is out, then what?”

  “We have to fix the walls and ceiling and get it all painted,” Emma said. “Then we need to have a new floor put in and have a work area and display counter built. There’s a room in the back we’ll make into a
kitchen, but right now it looks really bad.”

  Layla’s face wrinkled with dismay as she looked at her sister. “Bad as in worse than this room?”

  “Yeah, it’s worse …” Emma said, her voice trailing off.

  “Are you guys sure this is the right building?” Layla asked. “Have you signed anything? Let me look over the paperwork before you sign anything.”

  “I looked it over,” Cole said, raising his eyebrows at Layla. “The work this building needs is part of the reason we were able to get such a good price on it.”

  They were probably thrilled to get rid of it. This place is one long list of code violations.

  Emma’s eyes were shining with happiness, and Layla didn’t want to spoil her joy. “Well, that’s great,” she said, forcing herself to sound cheerful. “I’ll help with whatever you need.”

  Cole wrapped his arms around Emma, and she leaned her back against his chest, smiling at Layla.

  “I’m nervous and excited at the same time,” Emma said. “I know this will be a lot of work, but I’m actually looking forward to it, after not having any direction for all these months.”

  Cole pulled Emma closer, and Layla looked away.

  “I need to go, guys, but I’ll see you this weekend,” she said, stepping over an oily stain on the floor.

  “Okay, thanks,” Emma said.

  Layla sighed as she walked outside and dug through her purse for her car keys. It was getting dark outside, and she thought of the warning in the letter she’d gotten. More than anything, she was pissed about it. She’d always been independent and never feared for her safety, no matter where she was in the city. But now the letter was always in the back of her mind. Someone was waiting. Waiting where? Waiting for what?

  She got in her car and locked the doors, glancing into the backseat to make sure it was empty. The text message Ben had sent earlier ran through her mind. He’d told her to come by O’Malley’s for dinner if she could.

  Why not? I have to eat dinner, and even though I’m not having sex with him, I can still fantasize about it.

  She drove the short distance to the pub and smiled at the familiarity she felt when she pulled the large wood door open. The crowd blocked her from seeing the bar, but as she walked closer, she saw Ben sitting there talking to a uniformed police officer. He turned her way as she approached.