Текст книги "Sensational"

Автор книги: Janet Nissenson

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 29 страниц)

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.

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 intrigued,” 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.

But the evening unfortunately hadn’t ended after dinner. The limo had whisked them off to an exclusive private club where she’d had a tough time deciding what was more offensive – the décor, the pretentious sounding cocktails, or the music. They had danced a few times, and Daniel had grown increasingly handsy as the evening wore on. She’d lost count of the number of times his hand had groped her ass or grazed against the side of her breast, and she’d almost gagged when he had rubbed his erection against her thigh. The smell of his perspiration had begun to mingle with that of his hair gel and cologne, until she’d had to hold her breath just to avoid gagging.

“And still the hell didn’t end,” continued Lauren. “After I almost broke his finger by removing his hand from my ass – again – I thought he’d finally gotten the message to keep his clammy palms to himself. But as soon as we were back in the limo, he practically jumped my bones the second the door shut. And while he was trying to pull my zipper down, I might have elbowed him in the nose a little too hard. Next thing I know he’s bleeding all over his Dior suit and screaming like he’d just had a limb amputated. His driver pulled over to see what was going on, so I chose that moment to make my exit. I caught a cab back to my aunt’s, ordered a pizza, and broke out my own damn tequila.”

Karl and Chris were laughing almost uncontrollably by now, while the normally reserved Ben was grinning. George, however, was anything but amused.

“There must have been a reason why he was so aggressive,” stated George. “Knowing the way you love to flirt with everyone, Lauren, I’m guessing you must have lead him on. How can you blame the guy?”

“Hey. Cool it, Georgina,” she warned in an ominous voice. “I might flirt but I never lead guys on to that degree. And in Top Ten’s case, there is no possible way he could have misread my intentions. Because while he might have thought he was going to hit a home run last night, the way I see it he never got out of the batter’s box.”

The fact that his co-workers and boss seemed to find the whole situation hilarious only made George angrier and more frustrated.

“You’ve ruined everything,” he accused Lauren. “You screwed up this deal for Ted so badly that he’s blaming me for it. He probably won’t speak to me for a month. And our deal is off, Lauren. No free lunches, and as far as I’m concerned Nadine can book you a seat on a cargo plane from now on.”

Lauren tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “Big deal. Knowing you we’d be eating at the cheapest places you could find. And you really need to stop panting over your brother-in-law, George. I mean, it’s perfectly obvious that you’ve got this big ole man crush on him, but get over it already.”