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?”
It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse him outright, but then she met his gaze and her knees suddenly went weak. The temptation to be held in his arms for even a couple of minutes quickly became too much to resist.
“Sure. Why not? Beats sitting here in uncomfortable silence,” she returned flippantly. Karl and Chris and their girlfriends were either dancing or at the bar, leaving Ben and Lauren the sole occupants of the table.
Ben shook his head with a rueful smile even as he guided her out to the dance floor, a hand on the small of her back. “Though I’ll warn you now that I’m not much of a dancer.”
She gave him a cheeky grin as he drew her into his arms. “That’s okay. I don’t mind leading.”
He threw back his head and laughed heartily. “I’m sure you don’t. But given your limited mobility in that dress you’re sewn into, not to mention those high heels, I think you’d better leave the leading to me.”
“I’m about two minutes away from losing the shoes,” she replied darkly. “I have no idea how my sister virtually lives in these things. I’d give anything right about now to be in my jeans and sneakers watching the latest Bond movie. With a jumbo tub of popcorn with extra butter and salt, and a huge ass mug of hot chocolate. Spiked with peppermint schnapps, of course.”
Ben looked wistful. “You and me both. These events aren’t really my thing. Neither is the tux.”
“But you look really hot in it,” she blurted out impulsively. “I mean, if that makes you feel any better about wearing it, that is.” She could have happily stepped on her own foot with a stiletto heel right about now for saying something so stupidly inappropriate.
Ben, however, didn’t seem to mind her compliment in the least. “Thanks, I think,” he replied in amusement. “And you look – sinful.” His voice lowered, deepened, as he murmured the last word in her ear. “Carlo is a very lucky man. And I’m guessing every other man here tonight is wishing they were in his shoes.”
“Except for you, of course,” she retorted.
Ben’s cheek brushed against hers as he pulled her a little closer against his body. It was all she could do to suppress a moan at the feel of his warm, hard chest pressed against her breasts, or how the fabric of his tuxedo trousers kept brushing against her legs. He smelled amazing, felt so damned good, and all she wanted was to pull his head down to hers and French kiss him for the next half hour, not giving a damn who watched the show.