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.