She had wanted to give Chris a good hard smack for inviting Ben and Elle to sit at this table, and was frankly surprised that they had accepted. But to refuse would have likely required Elle to lie or be rude, two things Lauren sensed she never did. At least, thought Lauren as she picked up her wine glass, Carlo had seemed to sense her discomfiture with their tablemates and made sure they weren’t seated next to the other couple.
Lauren was unusually quiet as the evening wore on, and for once she ate sparingly. She blamed the tight fitting dress, plus the rather blandly prepared beef and vegetables, for her lack of appetite. But she knew it was mostly the sight of Elle and Ben together that was making her feel slightly nauseous – the way he smiled at her, the sight of her slim hand touching his sleeve, how he would bend his head to hers from time to time as she murmured something in a low voice. Lauren longed to pry those long, elegant fingers off of Ben’s arm, to pull all the pins out of Elle’s perfectly coiffed hair and pull it hard, to “accidentally” spill an entire glass of red wine on her classic black gown.
But she didn’t do any of those things, because she was just enough of a lady to mind her manners at an occasion like this. Instead, she seethed in silence as the meal dragged on, the anger and the irritation and the unwilling desire for Ben continuing to build and build until she felt like screaming.
‘You need to get laid, girl,’ she told herself. ‘That’s what your real problem is. You’re horny and Ben looks pretty damned hot in that stupid monkey suit. Maybe you should make Carlo an offer after all.’
But even as she considered sleeping with her “friend with benefits” one more time, she dismissed the idea as foolish. The last thing she wanted to do was jeopardize what had been a long standing friendship, not to mention have a bout of meaningless sex. She’d had her fill of the latter last month.
It had been the crew’s last evening in Spain, and she had been unusually morose and moody, knowing that she would be seeing Ben in a couple of days and feeling strangely reluctant to return to New York. Ever since that scene in his office in September, she had continued to have as little contact with him as possible, barely looking at or speaking to him during their team meetings. She knew the other guys had noticed her standoffishness towards their boss, but they had either been too wise or too scared to question her about it.
After dinner they had gone to see a tango show, and both the eroticism of the dance and the seduction of the music had stirred her blood. It had been a long time since she’d been with anyone, and she was both horny and desperately lonely. So she’d ditched the guys after the show, making some half-assed excuse, and headed for one of the more exclusive clubs in the area. It had taken all of five minutes for the man to approach her, ten more before they were leaving and heading for his flat three blocks away.
The sex had been frantic and hot, but oddly unsatisfying. She hadn’t come, despite her partner’s best efforts, and had slipped quietly out of his bed without a word. Once back at her hotel room, she’d promptly dashed for the toilet, dry heaving with the revulsion she’d felt at her actions. She had practically scrubbed her skin raw beneath the pounding spray of the shower, as though she could somehow wash away her shame.
She had been weak, she acknowledged now. Weak and sad and alone, and she vowed now that she would never be that weak again. She’d never been the sort to sleep around or indulge in one night stands, and her actions in Spain had been a sure sign of how deeply she had begun to sink into desperation.
But that was going to change now, she promised herself. She was Lauren McKinnon, the fearless badass chick that nobody dared mess with, and it was about damned time she remembered that. Ben Rafferty wasn’t worth sacrificing her pride or dignity for, and she was through mourning him. He and Princess Elle were welcome to each other. After all, she consoled herself, Elle might act like a princess, but Lauren was the goddamned queen, and it was about time she started acting like it.
With that resolution, she gave a satisfied little smile and actually summoned up an appetite, enough to almost clean her plate. She happened to catch Ben’s eye across the table, and lifted a brow in response to the brooding look he gave her. But then Elle said something, calling his attention back to her, and Lauren merely began to slather butter on another dinner roll.
Soon after coffee and dessert the dancing began, and Carlo urged her out onto the dance floor. The music was actually a lot better than she’d expected, and soon she was laughing and greatly enjoying herself. Carlo was always good company, and could usually make her laugh, and she was glad he’d had an evening free to be her date tonight.
“Maybe you should have been an actress, cara,” he murmured in her ear as they slow danced. “You’re doing a pretty good job of convincing your boss that he’s invisible. Poor man, got to feel sorry for him, given that he hasn’t stopped staring at you all night.”
“Pfftt.” Lauren flicked her fingers in dismissal. “You’re full of shit, Carlo, as usual. Or else you’ve had too much to drink. My boss is just that – my boss. And he has a girlfriend, in case you didn’t notice.”
Carlos’s handsome mouth turned down at the corners. “That cold fish? Brrr, I’ve gotten a chill every time I’ve looked at her. And Ben might be here with the lovely Elle, but the one he really wants to be with is my bella Lauren.”
“Don’t, Carlo. Please.” She rested her head on his shoulder as they danced, and something in her voice must have alerted him to the distress his words were causing.
“Okay.” His lips brushed her temple fondly. “I’ll stop being a busybody and change the subject. But deny it or not, your boss thinks you look hot.”
Lauren feigned an indifference she didn’t even remotely feel. “Well, duh. Everyone in the room thinks I look hot. And they’d better, considering how this dress is making me itch in about ten different places, and I can feel a blister forming on my foot as we speak.”
Carlo laughed in delight, happy to see her feistiness return. But the fact that he dropped the subject for the duration of their dance didn’t mean the meddling devil was through butting his nose into the matter. As soon as the song ended, he escorted Lauren back to their table and promptly asked Elle to dance.
Elle hesitated for a brief moment before giving Carlo a polite smile and placing her hand in his as he drew her out to the dance floor,
Which left Lauren and Ben alone in what had to be one of the most awkward moments of her life. They looked at each other, then glanced away, until Ben cleared his throat and blurted, “I, uh, didn’t realize that Carlo and Franco were brothers. They, uh, don’t look much alike. Not to mention having very different professions.”
Lauren nodded. “Kind of hard to tell with all that long hair Franco has, and especially when he doesn’t shave for days at a time. As for their choice of profession, all of the siblings have followed very different paths. One sister is a dentist, another a pastry chef, while their brothers include a musician, a cop, and the very youngest who’s in medical school.”
“Are you and Carlo – well, you know,” stammered Ben, clearly not comfortable with the conversation that he had initiated.
“Dating? Fucking?” replied Lauren in her usual forthright manner. She shook her head. “No, to both questions. We’ve, ah, done both in the past, but these days Carlo sort of lives in a different world than the rest of us. There’s no way I’d want to date a celebrity, put up with all the drama and the crazy fans. Besides, he and I decided years ago that we’re much better off as friends. He’s in town for a few days and miraculously had a free night so I dragged him along as my date. Nothing more complicated than that.”
“I see.” Ben took a sip of his wine, looking around the room briefly, until he startled her by asking, “Would you like to dance?”