He stifled a groan now as he recalled that Lauren hadn’t waited until the middle of the night to deliver on her taunt, her tempting little body sliding down his torso until her head was between his legs, her tongue sliding sensually up and down his suddenly erect cock.

And while he slept most nights in Elle’s bed, she wasn’t a cuddler and always stayed on her side of the king sized bed. It was one of her little quirks, as he thought of them, just like the way her enormous walk-in closet was precisely organized according to color, article of clothing, season of the year. Or how she kept bottles of hand sanitizer in every room of the house, in every purse she owned, and how she seemed to be using it every fifteen minutes or so. She never, ever, walked barefoot, even in her own rooms, and was a self-professed germaphobe.

And when Elle’s parents – whom he had yet to progress beyond addressing as Mr. and Mrs. Kimbrough – visited, Elle insisted that he occupy his own bedroom during those weeks, and made it quite clear that sex was definitely off the table. Her parents, she’d told him, knew that they were dating and that they were roommates, but the elder Kimbroughs were still very old-fashioned and wouldn’t condone their daughter openly sleeping with a man she wasn’t married to. All of Ben’s belongings were still in his suite of rooms, not just to perpetrate the sham to Elle’s parents that they didn’t sleep together, but because he tended to be a bit on the untidy side. Elle’s almost compulsive neatness couldn’t handle the thought of having her obsessively organized closet out of order, and thus his things had remained in his own space.

Once more, he couldn’t help thinking about Lauren, and the messy condition of the cabin, especially in her bedroom. She’d never actually made the bed during his stay, leaving the sheets and comforter perpetually rumpled, and the pillows tossed about. Her clothes, flip flops, and underthings had been scattered haphazardly around nearly every room of the place.

He forced his thoughts back to the present as Elle smoothed down the lapel of the hideously expensive designer suit that she’d insisted he had to buy for this interview.

“I know National Geographic Travel isn’t a literary journal or a high-end fashion magazine,” she acknowledged, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t make a good impression at this interview.”

Ben sighed. “I’m not even certain I want this job, Elle,” he admitted. “I don’t really have editorial experience, and I’m not sure how I’m going to feel about being tied to a desk job most of the time.”

She frowned. “So you’d rather keep traveling constantly, be away from home three weeks out of every five? Be away from me for all that time?”

“Of course not,” he assured her gently, feeling instant guilt at the hurt expression in her big dark eyes. “It will be a nice change not to spend quite so much time on the road. I guess I’m just so used to that lifestyle that it’s weird to even consider the alternative.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder. “Well, I know it would make me very happy to have you at home a lot more. And from what my father’s friend told me about this job, you’d still be doing some traveling.”

“I know.” He gave her a reassuring pat on the upper back, realizing that to say anything further would make him seem ungrateful.

And he was grateful for the interview that she’d arranged for him, how she’d contacted her father’s friend who was the editor-in-chief at the magazine. She had surprised him – shocked him, even – when she’d excitedly given him the news a couple of weeks ago, especially since it had been the first time he’d even heard about the job opening. But Elle had been throwing hints for weeks now about him finding another job where he didn’t have to travel nearly as much, and where they could be together more often. He actually liked his current job at Conde Nast, enjoyed traveling to so many varied locations. And while the countless hours logged at airports did grow tiresome at times, the travel was simply something he’d accepted over the years as part of the job.

Elle had taken things into her own hands, however, determined to spend more time with him, and therefore deepen their relationship. And he couldn’t deny the facts that the prospective job at National Geographic Travel paid a hell of a lot more than his current position, and carried a considerable amount of prestige as well. He’d have a private office, a personal assistant, and have several production crews reporting to him. He would have the last word on what stories the crews would cover, the locations where they would travel to, and final approval on the finished product. It would be a smart career move, and the opportunities for further advancement would be plentiful.

He just hoped he wouldn’t be expected to wear this damned suit and tie on a regular basis.

***

November

“Stop tugging at your shirt collar,” Elle whispered to him urgently. “My parents have noticed and they’re both looking at you rather oddly.”

“Sorry,” he whispered back, picking up his wine glass to distract himself from the irritating collar. The sauvignon blanc wasn’t really to his taste, even though the price of the bottle had been alarmingly high. But Mr. Kimbrough had selected it, and he knew that Elle’s very sophisticated father considered himself to be quite the wine expert.

The Kimbroughs had arrived in town for their bi-monthly visit two days ago – the same day when Ben had officially been offered the editor’s job at National Geographic Travel. Gordon Kimbrough had insisted on taking him out to dinner to celebrate, and had selected one of the top restaurants in Manhattan. A restaurant that Elle had informed him had a rather strict dress code, and so he’d worn the gray Armani suit this evening – along with the very uncomfortable shirt and tie.

Of course, this wasn’t the first time he’d been out with Elle’s parents, but as the waiter brought out their entrees, Ben wondered if he would ever feel at ease with them. Gordon was something of a cross between a stuffed shirt and a pompous ass, while Sunita – Elle’s regal, refined mother – made him feel as though he wasn’t quite worthy enough to be dating her daughter, a daughter who was descended from old Indian royalty. Gordon and Elle frequently discussed topics that Ben knew little to nothing about, while Sunita rarely spoke, merely gazing at him from time to time with thinly veiled disapproval.

At least when they were at the brownstone he could retreat into his rooms while Elle spent time with her parents. He was leaving tomorrow on what would be his final assignment for Conde Nast, so he would see very little of the Kimbroughs on this visit. He was due to begin his new job right after the first of the year, and had given in to Elle’s cajoling to spend Christmas with her parents in England.

In preparation for the two week trip to England, Elle had been dragging him out to shop for what seemed like an entire new wardrobe. When he’d protested that he didn’t need so many things, she’d reminded him in that prim, rather haughty tone she used at times that they would be expected to attend a number of social events during their visit. As a result, he now owned three new suits, half a dozen dress shirts and ties, several pair of slacks, cashmere sweaters, and leather shoes. His favorite pair of faded jeans, well-worn T-shirts, and biker boots were now relegated to the far corner of his closet.

“Ah, how remiss of me,” lamented Gordon in that nasally, upper crust accent that made Ben inwardly cringe at times. He picked up his wine glass. “I meant to propose a toast to Benjamin when we first arrived. It’s your fault, Eleanor,” he teased his daughter, “for engaging me in a conversation about the upcoming elections in France.”