But Ben knew it went beyond all of that, too. The mere fact that she’d adamantly refused to let him even attempt to explain or apologize told him that he’d ruined any chance of ever getting her back. He’d hurt her too deeply, crushed her pride too thoroughly, and Lauren was definitely a woman who could hold a grudge. It was good, therefore, that he’d finally begun to move on with his life, just as she had with her own.
“Is that why Quinn got transferred to another division?” asked Ben. “Did Lauren finally blow the whistle and file a harassment complaint against him?”
“Christ, no,” denied Karl emphatically. “Lauren’s too proud to let someone else fight her battles. She, uh, took care of the problem by dumping a cup of coffee on Quinn’s crotch. She made sure it was extra hot, too, heated it up in the microwave until it was boiling over. You should have heard the fucker scream – it was very emasculating. But he left Lauren alone after that, pretty much let her do whatever the hell she wanted. And he got that promotion because he kissed a lot of asses. None of us were too sad to see him move on.”
Ben had shuddered at the very thought of having scalding hot liquid poured in his lap, and silently vowed never to piss Lauren off to that extent. “I, uh, can’t imagine she dates a lot then, given the extreme measures she uses to ward off unwanted advances.”
Karl grinned. “She draws guys in like a magnet, and flirts more than a whole roomful of Southern belles. But, personally, I think she’s a lot of talk and not much action. At least not around us. For someone who has little to no filter about most everything else, Lauren keeps her private life – correction, her sex life – very private. She’s never once mentioned a boyfriend. Chris and I think she had her heart broken once and that she’s determined never to let that happen again.”
Ben had wondered for days after that conversation if he’d been the one to break her heart, but after considering the indifferent way she treated him nowadays, had decided that she certainly wasn’t pining after him anymore.
He continued to stare at the phone number in front of him, then looked around the small conference table at Chris and George. Since they both lived in New York they always participated in the video chats in person, while Karl and Lauren joined in from their respective homes. Karl had already called in, and was now waiting along with the others for Lauren to connect.
“You want me to call her, Ben?” offered George. “She must have overslept. Probably had a late night and now she’s nursing a nasty hangover.”
Chris looked at George scornfully. “I doubt that. Big Sur isn’t exactly the most happening spot on the map, and as much booze as Lauren can put away I’ve never actually seen her drunk or hungover.”
“Well, whatever her excuse is, she’s late and holding all of us up,” declared Ben impatiently. “So let’s wake Sleeping Beauty, shall we?”
He dialed the number determinedly, drumming his fingers on the table irritably as the phone rang and rang. With each ring he began to grow a little more impatient, become a little angrier, and if that infuriating little minx was in the room right now he’d be sorely tempted to shake her or. Or spank her. Or –
“’Lo?” grumbled a husky, sleepy voice.
It was exactly the way she’d always sounded first thing in the morning, when he had been impatient to have her again and couldn’t wait a minute longer to sink himself deep inside her tight little body. And because it pissed him off to recall just how quickly she’d woken after his first hungry kiss of the day, Ben didn’t even try to couch the sarcasm in his voice.
“Well, good morning to you, too, Lauren,” he drawled in a not so pleasant tone. “I assume your hot date last night distracted you from setting an alarm clock. Or did you just forget the video chat you were supposed to have called in for fifteen minutes ago?”
“Huh?” she mumbled, clearly disoriented. “Who is this anyway? And why are you calling in the middle of the night?”
Ben’s irritation was increasing with each passing second. “This is your boss. Remember me? And the rest of your crew is waiting none too patiently for you to drag your ass out of bed and join us.”
“Ben?” Lauren’s voice was clearer now, but she still sounded confused. “What – no, I didn’t forget. I even set my alarm for eight o’clock so I’d have plenty of time to get ready. What time – Jesus, it’s six-fifteen? What happened to the nine a.m. call we agreed on?”
He closed his eyes, counting to ten. “That would be nine a.m. Eastern time, Your Majesty,” he replied acidly. “If you’re going to insist on having a West coast base, then you need to start adapting your schedule to my time zone. Got it? Now, drag yourself out of bed and connect in to the call.”
He expected her to grumble or cuss or flat out defy him. What he didn’t expect was to hear a throaty chuckle, almost a purr, as she replied teasingly, “Aw, come on, Blue Eyes. You of all people should remember that I’m not a morning person. And you don’t have to be so mean about it. Just give me a few minutes to get dressed and grab some coffee and I’ll call in.”
He grit his teeth, fighting off his mounting irritation, not to mention the growing arousal that her deliberately seductive teasing had triggered. “No. Now. You’ll have to make do without coffee. And nobody gives a crap what you’re wearing. Get your butt on this call now.”
“Fine,” she spat. He could practically see her green eyes spitting like a cat’s as she spoke. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you. Asshole.”
She muttered that last word under her breath, but just loud enough for him to hear. His reply was cut off by the chime that indicated someone else had joined the video chat, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He’d expected Lauren to put up more of a fight, to give him shit for waking her up so early. He remembered how much she hated getting up before sunrise, how she’d always declared no sane person would ever willingly leave their bed at such an ungodly hour of the morning.
But his relief was short-lived as Lauren’s image appeared on screen, and she stared back at him with a smug, defiant expression on her face – and very little clothing on her lush little body.
Ben couldn’t help himself – and from the looks of it, neither could Chris or George – from staring at the tousled-haired, sleepy-eyed woman who positively shrieked wild, dirty sex. All she wore was a tiny black cotton camisole that clung to her full, round breasts like a second skin, displaying a whole lot of cleavage, and a pair of black cotton boy shorts. The shapely length of her legs was bare, as were her small, surprisingly dainty feet, and Ben offered up a silent thanks that Lauren had worn even this much clothing, given her penchant for sleeping in the nude.
“Ah, I think we can, uh, delay for a minute or two while you, er, get dressed,” sputtered Ben, trying desperately not to notice how her nipples were poking against the camisole. Or that Chris and George had noticed, too, and were making no attempt to hide their slacked-jawed fascination.
Lauren seemed to be enjoying herself, too, her behavior irritatingly provocative. She shrugged, causing a spaghetti strap to slip down her shoulder, baring the top half of one breast. George’s eyes bugged out, Chris’s tongue hung out, and Ben’s cock hardened to almost painful proportions.
“Nah.” She waved a hand in dismissal. “I’m fine. Besides, boss, I wouldn’t want to delay your meeting a minute longer and screw up your schedule. Carry on.”
It was the least productive meeting Ben had ever had the misfortune to sit in on. Every time he tried to discuss a subject, all he could see were Lauren’s boobs thrusting out at him from the video screen. Or, when he attempted to divert his gaze, he had to watch George and Chris practically drooling as they kept their own gazes peeled to the screen. Every so often, when Karl spoke from his end in Tennessee, the amusement in his voice was glaringly obvious.