“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.”