She was crabby and impatient as she continued on her way, especially since she had been required to arrive in town a full four days earlier than previously planned. And all because of the new sheriff in town, the editor who’d been hired to replace the newly promoted Quinn Cohen. No one knew very much about the new boss except that he’d previously worked at Conde Nast. Lauren hadn’t bothered to find out anything else about him, figuring she would have as little to do with Quinn’s replacement as she had with Quinn himself.
She’d liked Quinn well enough – even if he was a little too much of a corporate kiss-ass for her liking. And her former boss had seemed content to leave her alone for the most part, allowing her a great deal of creative freedom with her assignments. Of course, he’d also tried to hit on her at least half a dozen times, until she’d “accidentally” spilled a scalding cup of coffee on his lap. She’d ruined his expensive wool trousers, given him a painful second degree burn, and, most importantly, stopped his very unwelcomed flirting for good.
And that had been a very, very good thing, she told herself, picking up the pace as she walked along, trying to stay warm. Quinn wasn’t a bad looking guy, if a little too buttoned-up for her taste. But he’d had any number of strikes against him that would have ensured a relationship between them had never developed. Being her boss had been number one. She would have never considered sleeping with her immediate superior, and then have the resulting gossip and innuendoes fly fast and furiously. It was tough enough for a woman to make it in this field without dealing with the stigma of having slept her way up the ladder.
Quinn was also a lot older than she was, nearly twenty years, and the thought of doing it with someone almost old enough to be her father tended to cause a bit of a gag reflex. And Quinn also happened to have a steady girlfriend, a sweet if somewhat vapid woman named Phoebe whom Lauren had met on several occasions. No matter what, Lauren did not poach on other women’s men, nor was she open to sharing them – despite the multiple times she had teased her sister about enticing some hot guy to take both of them to bed at the same time. Julia always shuddered in revulsion at the mere suggestion of the so-called “twin sandwich”, and told Lauren she was getting way too kinky for her liking.
No, if a guy already had a wife or girlfriend, or even a regular booty call, he was strictly off limits for Lauren. Once, during her sophomore year at UCLA, she’d unknowingly dated a guy who was living with his girlfriend. Fortunately, they’d never done much more than make out a little, despite his repeated urgings to take it further. So when the douche bag’s girlfriend had angrily confronted Lauren after class one day, calling her a skank, and demanding she leave her boyfriend alone, she’d at least had a mostly clear conscience about the unfortunate mess. Lauren had promptly invited the angry girlfriend out for a beer where they’d schemed and plotted the perfect revenge for the lying slimeball. After that the two girls had become good friends, and Lauren still kept in regular contact with Shay.
Her cell phone rang at that moment, the distinctive La Vie en Rose ring tone signaling the caller was Julia. Her twin loved all things French – food, clothes, films – and truly embraced their maternal grandparents’ heritage.
“Bonsoir, Jules,” greeted Lauren, her French every bit as perfect as her sister’s. “How are you on this really, really shitty morning?”
Julia sighed. “Bad flight?”
“You would not believe. God, how did you stand living in this city during the winter? Do you realize I was surfing at this time yesterday? In a wetsuit, mind you, but the sky was blue and there sure as hell wasn’t any dirty snow on the ground.”
“At least your next assignment is someplace warm, isn’t it?” asked Julia.
The team was headed to Australia in less than a week. Under normal circumstances, Lauren would have met up with the others in Los Angeles, and then caught a flight to Sydney. Instead, she’d be making two cross country flights within a five day period, just so she could meet the new boss and listen politely to all of his plans and goals for the team – and then end up doing everything her way after all.
“Yeah, thank God it’s summer down under. I’m still in shock that we’re actually going somewhere in season. But some of the activities we’re planning to cover are only available for a few months each year. It must be killing that cheapo Nadine to be allotting so much money from the budget. I swear that girl is descended from Scrooge in A Christmas Carol. Or maybe it’s Scrooge McDuck.”
The twins continued to chat as Lauren approached her office building, confirming plans to meet up the next time she was in San Francisco. After losing her job in October – and suffering through a brief, ill-fated fling a few weeks prior to that – Julia had given up her tiny Manhattan apartment and moved back to California. She’d been staying with their parents in Carmel for the past couple of months, but was in the process of moving to San Francisco where she was due to begin a new job.
Lauren gave a little wave to the security guard as she flashed her I.D. badge, and immediately began to unzip her quilted down jacket and unwind her cashmere scarf. As cold as it was outside, it was stifling inside the lobby of her office building, and she knew the office itself would be even hotter. It was too bad, she though snidely, that Nadine didn’t turn the heat down and use the money saved to pay for decent flights instead.
As the elevator ascended up to her floor, Lauren ignored the admiring glances she was receiving from two of the men to her right. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the whispered comments they made to each other, their voices pitched not quite low enough to avoid being overheard. But the things they were saying, the semi-dirty innuendoes, weren’t anything she hadn’t heard hundreds of times before. And the two men, who were dressed to the nines in designer suits and cashmere overcoats, were definitely not her type. Julia salivated over a good-looking man in a suit, but Lauren didn’t even spare them a glance.
As the elevator stopped on her floor, she couldn’t resist the urge to turn and smile wickedly at her two admirers. “Sorry, boys, but you just aren’t my type. Unless you like being tied up and blindfolded, that is. Have a nice day.”
She chuckled to herself as she walked down the hallway towards the conference room as she recalled the look of shock on both men’s faces. Julia was always cautioning her to watch her sassy mouth, fearful that one of these days she was going to say the wrong thing to the wrong guy. Or worse, that one of them would actually take her up on the seductive offers she made strictly in jest.
Since the only member of the team who worked full time in the office was their producer, the rest of the group didn’t have official desks or cubicles. When they were required to be at the office for planning sessions, they typically commandeered one of the smaller conference rooms for their use. As Lauren made her way towards the one they were almost always assigned to, she paused to greet several staff members, wishing them a Happy New Year, or asking how their holidays had been.
She popped her head inside Nadine’s office, scowling at the administrative assistant whose main responsibilities included making travel arrangements, and pinching every penny she could find along the way. “Thanks a bunch for another great flight, Nadine,” she grumbled. “Can you at least get me an aisle seat next time? I was stuck in between this three hundred pound guy whose gut kept intruding into my personal space, and another guy who reeked of curry and cheap aftershave – two scents that do not mingle well.”
Nadine’s tight-lipped expression looked almost painful as she replied primly, “If you want a better seat next time, Lauren, then please answer my emails on a timely basis instead of waiting until the last minute. You can’t expect to get your preferred seat when I’m forced to make last minute reservations.”
Lauren shrugged unconcernedly. “Hey, it wasn’t my idea to cut my time off short by four days. And how come nobody’s whining about the cost involved in two extra cross country flights? We could have used that money to upgrade me to business class for the flight to Sydney.”
Nadine shook her close-cropped chestnut head. The pixie style should have looked cute but Lauren thought it made her look a tad on the butch side instead. Same thing with the black nerdy-chick glasses. Rather than being cute and stylish they just looked – well, nerdy.
“You know that all of the crews fly coach no matter what,” reiterated Nadine firmly. “Only the editors and executives get to fly business. Speaking of which, they’ve been waiting for you in the conference room for over an hour now to meet the new boss. I suggest you hustle over there instead of harassing me yet again.”
Lauren resisted the urge to roll her eyes – or flip Nadine off – and thought, not for the first time, that the tall, skinny admin assistant was the perfect person for this job, what with her uptight, almost OCD personality. Even her clothes reflected her anal retentive character – a mud brown sweater worn over a beige shirt buttoned up to the neck; khaki slacks that didn’t have even a hint of a wrinkle and looked like they’d been bought in the men’s department; and brown leather loafers that were so butt ugly Julia would have cried to see anyone actually wear them – male or female.
As she continued on down the hallway towards her destination, Lauren forced herself not to turn back and snidely remind Nadine that it was really her fault that she was late – due to the flight delay in Chicago that wouldn’t have happened if Nadine had actually booked her on a nonstop flight for once.
Sweat was beading her forehead as she removed her jacket and breezed into the conference room. “Jesus, how high is the heat cranked up in this place anyway? I’m either freezing my ass off outside or feeling like I’m in a sauna inside.” She unceremoniously dumped her jacket, scarf, and bulging messenger bag on the closest chair and plunked her coffee cup on the table.
“You’re late. Really late. We’ve been waiting for you for more than an hour.”
This time she didn’t even try to resist the urge to roll her eyes heavenward as the other major pain in her ass in this office scolded her.
Lauren smiled with false sweetness and gave the team’s new producer a rather patronizing pat on his chubby cheek. “Sorry, Georgina. Thanks to Nadine’s usual tight-fisted flight arrangements, my connection got delayed a couple of hours. And being stuck in O’Hare of all places is definitely not my idea of a good time.”
Stefan, the team’s longtime producer, had resigned last fall to return home to Sweden. His replacement had been George, a recent college graduate who was always overly eager to please his superiors, and so annoying that Lauren had to constantly hold herself back from swatting him like the pesky little insect he was.
“Don’t call me that,” pouted George. “You don’t hear me calling you by the masculine version of your name, do you?”
She gave Karl a conspiratorial little wink before giving him a hug. “News flash, Georgina. Lauren is used as a man’s name, too.” She whispered to Karl, “If you see me reaching inside my boot for a knife, do whatever you can to stop me. Otherwise, I swear I’m going to stab that annoying little shit someplace where he’s going to bleed a lot.”
“Down, girl,” Karl murmured in a low voice. “And best behavior, hmm? The new boss is anxious to meet you, and you don’t want his first impression of you to be with a blade pressed against George’s throat.”
Lauren shrugged as she turned to give Chris a hug. “Like I give a rat’s ass about what sort of impression I make on anyone. Especially since I had to sacrifice four days off and endure the flight from hell in order to meet His Lordship. And if he’s so anxious to meet me, then where the hell is he anyway?”
“Right here,” said a voice from behind her – an achingly familiar voice that she had never expected to hear again.
Lauren extracted herself from Chris’s embrace and turned slowly, her gaze colliding like a head-on crash with those dark blue eyes that had haunted her dreams for far too long, telling herself that this couldn’t possibly be happening; that the man who stood regarding her solemnly from the doorway wasn’t the same man she’d never stopped loving – even when she’d cursed him to hell and back for breaking her heart.
And even though she would have known him anywhere with those piercing eyes, ruggedly handsome features, and hard, leanly muscled body, Ben had changed in too many other ways to count. His dark blond hair was still cut in the same close-cropped style, but was a bit longer these days. He was clean shaven, without a trace of the thick stubble that she’d always found so sexy. The earring was missing from his lobe, and the long sleeved beige cotton shirt hid his tattoo – the one that was a twin to her own. In addition to the button-down, he wore dark tan khakis and brown leather loafers.
He looked nothing like the gorgeous, chiseled man who’d rode into her life on his motorcycle wearing faded jeans and an equally faded T-shirt. The one she’d dragged along on her daily surfing excursions; the one who’d trekked through the Ventana wilderness with her, or walked the dogs along the beach; the one who’d sparred with her out on the deck as they went through their martial arts drills; and he most definitely looked nothing like the man who’d fucked her with unrepentant hunger on nearly every surface of her cabin, inside and out.
The lover she’d alternately longed for and called every vile name in the book was gone, replaced by this unsmiling stranger who regarded her somberly.
Karl had an odd look on his bearded face as he glanced back and forth between Lauren and Ben, and she suddenly realized that the rest of her crew had quickly picked up on the strange vibes that reverberated through the room.
“Uh, Lauren, this is our new editor – Ben Rafferty. Ben, meet the infamous Lauren McKinnon. Or, as we’re fond of calling her, Her Majesty.”
Lauren knew without having to look in a mirror that her eyes would be spitting emerald fire right about now as she silently dared Ben to act as though they were meeting for the very first time. “Welcome aboard, Ben,” she told him in a cool, measured voice. “I assume you’ve been given fair warning what you’ve got yourself into by taking this job.”
Chris looked startled, and George’s eyes were nearly bugging out of their sockets at her admittedly impudent greeting, but Ben merely gave her an amused smile as he extended a hand towards her.
“Your crew has been keeping me entertained for the past hour or so with tales of some of your, er, adventures,” he replied, neither acknowledging or denying that they’d already met. “I’m looking forward to working with all of you. And now that you’ve finally arrived, let’s sit down and discuss your next assignment, shall we?”
Lauren’s hackles rose up instantly at the very businesslike, impersonal manner in which he’d greeted her, and when she finally shook his hand it was with a grip so fierce that Ben visibly winced. She wished viciously that her fingernails were long enough to dig into his flesh and draw blood.
“I wasn’t intentionally late,” she muttered sullenly. “My flight from Chicago was delayed by bad weather. And it certainly wasn’t my idea to book a connecting flight, or a red-eye.”
“You could have called from JFK when you landed to update us,” pointed out George in that priggish, kiss-ass manner of his that she loathed. “And then to take extra time for a Starbucks run when you knew everyone was waiting was just rude.”
Lauren was in George’s ruddy, plump-cheeked face before Karl could hold her back, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Listen up, Georgina. I haven’t had any sleep in almost thirty hours, I can still hear screaming babies and smell sweat and curry from the guys seated on either side of me. I need more coffee, food, a shower, and a nap in that exact order. So back off – get it? Otherwise, I’m going to - ”
This time Karl took a firm grip of her arm as she would have reached inside her boot – a place where he knew she often stashed a switchblade, and steered her to a chair. “Easy there, tiger,” he whispered. “I’ll get you some more coffee and Chris snagged a bagel for you earlier. So leave the weaponry alone before George pisses himself.”
With some satisfaction, Lauren noti
ced the fearful expression on George’s face, and then smiled gratefully as Karl and Chris placed coffee and a bagel in front of her in turn. But it was the expression on Ben’s face as he watched all of this unfold that puzzled her – a combination of impatience, amusement, and what looked almost like jealousy. Idly she wondered if Ben thought that she and Karl were an item, given the way her co-worker tended to look out for her, even though he knew better than anyone just how capable she was of taking care of herself. But then she dismissed that crazy idea, not allowing herself to believe that Ben cared about her in that way any longer. All she’d ever been to him was a place to crash for a few days, and an all too convenient booty call.
And now, by some horrific twist of fate that she couldn’t even begin to come to grips with, he was evidently her new boss. As Ben began this short, informal meeting with the crew, Lauren wondered why on earth he would have wanted an editorial job, especially since he’d talked at length about how much he loved to travel and see new places. This new job would all but eliminate that aspect, tying him to the office for the majority of the time. Try as she might, Lauren just couldn’t see him in that role. Ben was nothing like Quinn or any of the other editors or executives – he was too quiet, almost introverted, and certainly not the corporate ladder-climbing type.
So something had happened in the past four and a half years that had changed him. Or else she had never really known him at all.
***
“Thanks, Karl. I’m glad we’ve had time to chat one on one. I just hope I haven’t bit off more than I can chew with this job.”
Ben’s admission to the long-haired travel writer was made wryly, but also with an honesty he couldn’t mask. Out of all the members of his new staff that he’d met with thus far, Karl was the one he’d felt an almost instant affinity with. They were both loners of a sort, both writers, and the same age. Karl, however, thought Ben glumly, could still wear faded jeans, flannel shirts, and cowboy boots to work, while he now found himself wearing what he’d rather resentfully dubbed his yuppie wardrobe. Still, the khakis and button down shirt were vastly preferable to one of his suits.
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