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 noth
ing. 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.
Chapter Thirteen
August
Lauren was admittedly in a bad mood this morning, but she figured that after the night she’d had she was more than entitled to be pissy. She was in such a foul mood, in fact, that not even the two extra sugar packets – on top of her usual four – that she’d dumped into her coffee, nor the jumbo sized cinnamon roll with extra icing, had helped one damned bit to make her feel better.
And the weather in Manhattan was back to being hot and muggy this morning, which only added to her crankiness. She couldn’t even wear shorts to the office any longer, thanks to Ben’s little lecture last month about “appropriate” attire, and she refused to give him the satisfaction of actually wearing a skirt or dress. Her white cropped jeans, dark blue racer-back tank, and flat brown leather sandals were cool enough, she supposed grudgingly, and certainly covered up a lot more than the outfit she’d worn last month that had triggered Ben’s outcry. Given the rotten mood she was in this morning, though, she really didn’t give a shit if her clothes met with his approval or not.
Ever since that cocktail party last month – where some wicked impulse had compelled her to dress up like a sexy secretary simply to get a reaction from him – Ben had been – different. His behavior had been more formal and businesslike, definitely more distant, and she had no idea why the change had occurred. She suspected that Elle might have had something to do with the change, for it had been glaringly obvious that Ben’s live-in love didn’t like her one bit.
‘Girl couldn’t take a joke if her life depended on it, could she?’ Lauren grumbled to herself. ‘And what in the world do she and Ben have in common anyway? Elle looks and acts like she should be dating a count or a duke or someone else with a stuffy title like that, while Ben’s type is more like - ’
She stopped herself before she could tack the word “me” onto the end of the sentence. She didn’t permit herself to daydream about Ben, refused to even entertain the fantasy about someday getting back together with him. For one thing, Lauren had rarely if ever indulged in fantasies or girlish daydreams, had never been a silly romantic fool like Julia – who’d staged Barbie doll weddings as a child, and designed her own wedding gown as a teenager when she’d been head over heels in love with Sam. Lauren dealt strictly in reality, and the reality nowadays was that Ben had a girlfriend and Lauren was merely one of his employees.
It shouldn’t bother her to accept that fact, and it definitely shouldn’t make her heart ache to realize that what she’d had with Ben was well and truly over. She was still young – twenty-six in October – had her dream job, the best family anyone could ever wish for, good friends, and pretty much had her whole life ahead of her. Ben Rafferty had been a one-time summer fling, and she needed to close that chapter of her life and keep it shut from here on end.
She popped into the Starbuck’s half a block from the office and ordered another coffee, eyeing the glazed donut that was beckoning to her from the display case. Unfortunately, her belly was still full from the cinnamon roll – not to mention a tad queasy from all the tequila shots she’d taken last night on top of a rather greasy pizza. It had been a lot of booze, even for her, but Lauren figured she’d more than earned the right to get a little drunk given the disaster of a blind date she’d idiotically agreed to go on.
It was because of that blind date – and its horrific outcome – that she was very intentionally delaying her arrival at the office. She knew there would be a confrontation, was not so naïve as to hope that the news hadn’t already reached its target, and really wasn’t in the mood to deal with it.
But deal with it she must, and when she couldn’t delay her arrival a minute longer, she walked inside of her office building and got in the elevator. And before entering the conference room where the others would be waiting for her, she assumed her very best badass attitude, strutting inside like she owned the place.
“Sorry I’m a little late,” she said breezily, intentionally not making eye contact with anyone as she dumped her bag and coffee cup on the table.
On the other side of the room she could practically feel the steam rising out of George’s ears, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to guess his cheeks would be flushed red with anger, or that his beady little eyes were ready to pop out of their sockets.
“What the hell happened last night?”
Very casually, Lauren glanced over at George, who looked ready to bust a vein. Any hopes she might have harbored that he hadn’t yet heard the whole sordid tale were immediately dashed. To make matters worse, Karl, Chris, and Ben were all gazing at her expectantly, and she was left to wonder how much George had already told them.
She decided to play it cool, an attitude that had gotten her out of far worse situations than this one many times before. “What happened was the worst blind date of my life,” she replied matter-of-factly. “And it’s the very last time I let you set me up with anyone, George. I should have known that any friend of yours would be a big ole loser. He might as well have had a capital L tattooed on his forehead.”
“Loser?” George was sputtering now, and a little vein near his right temple began to throb. “Daniel is a multi-millionaire! He’s the co-owner of one of the top ten venture capital firms in the country, and was voted one of the most eligible bachelors in Manhattan three years in a row. How does that make him a loser by any stretch of the imagination?”
Lauren shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee. “Then I suppose you’ve got a piss poor imagination. And – news flash, Georgina – there’s a lot more to being a real man than how much money he has. Because from where I was sitting last night, that’s about all Mr. I’m Wearing Too Much Stinky Hair Gel has going for him.”
George glared at her darkly. “So you broke his nose because you didn’t like the way his hair gel smelled?”
She scoffed, very aware of the three male stares directed her way. “Of course not. And for the record, I did not break the whiny little crybaby’s nose, it just bled a lot. Trust me, if I’d wanted to break his nose he’d be holding the pieces together with duct tape right about now.”
Chris guffawed, while Karl winked at her, and Ben looked as though he was torn between laughing and shaking his head in exasperation. George, meanwhile, just kept getting angrier and angrier.
“You do know that my brother-in-law was this close to sealing a deal with Daniel, don’t you?” demanded George.
“I believe you mentioned that four or five times when you kept trying to talk me into this ridiculous blind date,” Lauren replied with sarcasm. “And if this guy is such a stud, then why the hell did he have you acting like his pimp? Couldn’t he get his own date?”
George slammed his fist down on the table, then winced from the pain. “You know all this, Lauren,” he hissed. “Daniel saw a photo of you on my phone, thought you were hot, and threw out all sorts of hints about sealing the deal with Ted if I could arrange a date with you.”
Ted was married to George’s older sister, and George practically idolized his brother-in-law. Personally, Lauren thought it was a rather unhealthy case of hero worship, especially since Ted sounded like a huge dickhead from what she’d been able to surmise. But George had been all too eager to please Ted, and had gone on an all-out campaign to convince Lauren to go on a blind date with Daniel, something she typically refused to even consider.
George had made her all sorts of promises, everything from buying her lunch for a month to persuading Nadine to book her nonstop flights for the next year. Lauren had driven a hard bargain and demanded both, and George had practically wet himself with eagerness when she’d finally accepted.
“So, now I’m i
ntrigued,” drawled Karl. “We all want to know how your date wound up with a broken, er, bloody nose.”
Lauren rolled her eyes and took a sip of coffee. “Fine. Though it’s really not very interesting. Neither was Daniel, by the way.”
She gave them a somewhat abbreviated version of the worst blind date in history, but included enough details that everyone got the picture.
Daniel had picked her up in a chauffeur-driven limo, the epitome of pretentiousness in her opinion, and there had even been a chilled bottle of champagne awaiting her. But Lauren’s enjoyment of the admittedly fine vintage had been spoiled by the overpowering odors of Daniel’s hair gel and designer cologne, enough that even her cast iron stomach felt a little queasy.
She’d hated the restaurant he had brought her to from the moment they had walked inside. It had been one of those dimly lit places with modern, spartan décor, and a menu filled with dishes that had an entire paragraph describing the complicated ingredients and preparation. Daniel had made a big production out of choosing a particular high priced single malt Scotch, as though that was supposed to impress her, and had almost choked when Lauren had asked the waiter for a round of tequila shots.
George was horror-stricken. “You ordered tequila shooters at The Avenue? You do know that it’s one of the Top Ten restaurants in the city, don’t you?”
Lauren’s gaze narrowed sharply. “This dude seems to have a weird obsession with top ten lists. His firm is on one, he’s on one, he goes to restaurants that are on one. Anyway, don’t have a hernia about the tequila, Georgie. This incredibly pompous waiter looks down his nose and tells me in a very snooty voice that they didn’t have tequila. I mean, really? Who doesn’t have tequila in a restaurant? So I ordered an even more expensive glass of Scotch than Top Ten did.”
From that point on, things had disintegrated rapidly. Between Daniel arrogantly taking it upon himself to order both her meal and the wine without asking her opinion, to the teeny tiny portions of food she barely recognized, and to his complete monopolization of the conversation, Lauren had been counting the minutes until the evening could mercifully be over. In between talking about himself nonstop, Daniel fielded at least a dozen business related phone calls and texts during the meal, which had at least given her short reprieves from having to listen to him prattling away.
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