Best Man...with Benefits

by Nancy Warren

  Besides, maybe Seth knew what was up with Lauren.

  After a miserable game, in which Seth beat him soundly, mocking him for not keeping his head in the game, they settled in for their usual post-game beer and catch up.

  Of course, he couldn’t come right out and ask if Lauren was okay, so he went for the subtle approach. He said, “So, are Lauren and Amy plotting to redecorate your house while you’re out?”

  Seth winced. He’d spent their last visit complaining that Amy was taking a house they’d both claimed they liked and redecorating every freakin’ room.

  “No. Amy joined a Pilates class. Haven’t seen Lauren for a while. She’s working on something.”

  Jackson tried to come up with something snarky to say, but without Lauren there to hear it, he couldn’t summon the enthusiasm. Besides, he was worried about her. She worked all alone with dangerous substances. Hot guns and sharp glass. What if she’d hurt herself? A horrific vision of her needing help, trapped under a heavy piece of furniture that had fallen on her as she reached for her ringing cell phone, bloomed and wouldn’t let go.

  He scoffed at his own stupidity. Of course she was okay. But then why didn’t she answer him?

  “That woman sure is hard to please,” Seth said.

  “Amy?”

  “No. Well, yeah, Amy’s hard to please, but I meant Lauren.” Seth shook his head. “Do you know those girls have a rating system for guys? One to ten. Lauren gave Daniel a seven.”

  “She was being generous.”

  “You’re as bad as she is. I figure that guy’s a catch. All that Britspeak the girls seem to love and he’s rich and well connected. Has a great job.”

  “Plays polo,” Jackson added.

  “Exactly,” Seth agreed, never one to pick up on subtle sarcasm. “And she gives him a seven.”

  “What did she rate me?” he asked before he could stop himself.

  “I don’t know. But Lauren told me that when Amy met me she said I was a ten.”

  “That’s nice.” In a slightly nauseating way.

  “So Daniel called me looking for Sylvia’s number.”

  “Sylvia? I thought he was interested in Lauren.”

  “He was. You saw him at our dinner. Totally into her. Amy and I were really excited. Thought they made a perfect couple. So, he calls and asks her to dinner and she blows him off.”

  “Well, he was only a seven.” But a glow of satisfaction warmed him. He didn’t want Lauren going out with a dick, and for some reason he’d decided Daniel was a dick with an accent.

  “Yeah, well, don’t sound so pleased with yourself. When he called and asked for Sylvia’s number Amy checked with Sylvia, and she said sure, he should call her. Your Sylvia. And she said yes to another guy.”

  “She’s not my Sylvia.”

  “Well, she could have been. You screwed up there, dude.”

  “She and Daniel will be perfect together.”

  They finished up their beer. “You want to grab some dinner?” Seth asked him.

  “What about Amy? Won’t she be expecting you home?”

  Seth’s jaw tightened. “Amy needs to get used to me having a life of my own. Some space.”

  “Sure, that’s cool. I can’t, though. I need to head back into the office for a couple of hours tonight. There’s a bug I need to fix.”

  “Yeah, no worries. Maybe next week.”

  Jackson did go back to the office, mostly because he never wanted to lie to Seth. But he didn’t stay long. He’d showered and shaved at the gym and was wearing clean jeans and a T-shirt. He hit the road. Even as he pointed his car north, he cursed himself for being such a fool. He and Lauren didn’t have this kind of relationship. They were two very different people with nothing in common but amazing sex. A few miles into this strange, impulsive road trip, he called her from his car and left a voice mail. “Look, I know this is crazy, but I’m worried about you. You’re not answering your phone, not responding to texts. If you don’t want me to show up at your door, you’d better let me know, because I’m on my way.”

  As he drove, he realized that what he was doing was changing the nature of their relationship. If he got there and she was in bed with another guy, obviously it would be the end. He couldn’t believe Lauren would do that to him, though. They’d been honest with each other and he trusted her to tell him if she was seeing someone.

  Unless her not responding to his texts or calls was her way of letting him know she was seeing someone. At least he knew it wasn’t Daniel.

  If there wasn’t another guy in her life, then he hoped she was missing him as much as he missed her. There was no denying their chemistry. They were only compatible in one area of their lives, but damn, he’d never known anything like it. His body had grown accustomed to having her, and going without for more than a week had him feeling like an addict in withdrawal.

  He chuckled as the dark road unrolled ahead of him. A sex addiction. Great. That was all he needed.

  When the lights of Leonato Estate Winery rose ahead of him, he wavered once more. He wasn’t a showing-up-on-the-doorstep kind of guy. He tried Lauren’s cell phone one more time. Still nothing.

  Okay, he thought, he’d swing by her place. If he could find her place. He knew she lived on a cottage on the winery estate because she’d told him so. He knew what car she drove because he’d seen it. Process of elimination should make it easy to find her, assuming her car was parked in front of her home. He’d hoped for a security guard who could warn Lauren he was on his way, but there wasn’t one. A sign informed him he was on private property. He followed a lane behind the winery offices and the tasting room, to a scatter of more modest buildings.

  A big house sat on a hill, and he assumed that was the home of the winery owners. But lower down were the scattered cottages. He cruised the lane and found Lauren’s car. There wasn’t a second car beside it, so he pulled up and parked. He climbed out and glanced around. Her cottage seemed dark. A quick look at his cell phone clock told him it was only 9:00 p.m. She couldn’t be in bed yet.

  He walked around and noticed a second building, more like a shed. Light spilled from it. Curious, he walked forward. Music spilled out along with the light. It made him think of Fitzgerald and the Charleston, jazz and flappers. Truly curious, he knocked on the door.

  * * *

  “DAMN IT, I don’t have time for this,” Lauren growled. She’d finished applying flux to the foil she’d folded over all the edges of glass for the current widow. Now she was ready to use the copper solder. Who would bang on her door? Unless it was the Leonatos complaining about the noise, which she doubted.

  She went to the door and flung it open. She blinked when she saw Jackson standing there. “What are you doing here?”

  At the same second, he said, “Are you okay? You look terrible.”

  For a stunned second, they both stared at each other. He broke the silence first. Wincing. “Not the first thing I meant to say to you. Sorry. But are you okay?”

  “I’m working.” She felt irritated at the very sight of him. How dare he arrive unannounced looking like a sex fantasy when she couldn’t remember the last time she’d showered or slept. And he was seeing someone else.

  “I tried to call,” he said. “For a week, I’ve been texting and calling you.” He shuffled his feet as if he felt foolish. “You didn’t answer. I—oh, shoot me if you want to—I was worried.”

  She glanced around vaguely, trying really hard not to be flattered that he’d worried about her. “I’m not sure where my phone is. I haven’t seen it for days.”

  He could obviously see the chaos of creation behind her. “I caught you at a bad time.”

  “Did you drive all the way up from San Francisco?”

  He looked slightly belligerent. “Yeah. Like I said, I was worried.”

  “Oh. Thank you.”

  She blinked her eyes a few times, realizing that she was going to strain her eyes if she wasn’t careful. She had no idea what to say to Jackso
n. It was as though she’d been so immersed in her work that she’d forgotten her social skills.

  He seemed as lost. The music was the only sound. Finally, he smiled and said, “Not what I’d have guessed your taste in music to be.”

  “I always play music that suits what I’m working on. These windows are for a house built in the 1920s. It helps if I play music of the period, especially when I’m designing, but I like to have it on when I’m constructing the window, too. Keeps me focused and authentic.”

  He frowned at her. “When did you last eat?”

  “I don’t know. What time is it?” Her stomach felt hollow, as if it had given up on reminding her to eat.

  “It’s after nine. At night.” He grinned, as if she might have mixed up night and day. Which she probably could have.

  “Oh. Um, I had breakfast.” The remains of a container of yogurt and a spotted banana, the last of a bunch she’d bought last time she got groceries.

  “Why don’t I make you some dinner?”

  Dinner would be amazing. A break would be amazing. “I don’t think I have any food in the house.”

  He sent her that charming grin once more, the smile of a man who was getting enough sleep and bathing regularly and had seen the sun in recent days. “I lived in poverty as a student. Trust me, I can make a meal from pretty much anything.”

  “I need half an hour,” she said, knowing she had to get the window pieces put together.

  “You come when you’re ready.”

  She turned to her work. Then back to him. “Thanks.”

  “Do I need a key to get into your place?”

  “No. Door’s open.”

  And just like that, he was gone.

  * * *

  WHEN SHE WALKED into the cottage, the most incredible smells assailed her. She entered the kitchen feeling as though she’d walked into a dream. Jackson stood in front of her stove, stirring something that smelled amazing, like an authentic Italian restaurant. Her senses sprang to life and she realized she was starving.

  “How on earth did you manage that?” Had he brought food with him?

  “Let’s see. A can of tomato paste in the back of that cupboard there.” He pointed to where she kept canned goods. “Some bacon in the freezer. A can of olives. You’ve got lots of dry spices, and I took the liberty of opening a bottle of wine.”

  Thank goodness the Leonatos always kept her well stocked with wine.

  “You don’t have garlic, or parmesan, or bread, but there was half a packet of spaghetti. We’ll make do.”

  She felt, as her senses reengaged, that she couldn’t sit down to dinner in the clothes she’d been working in all day. “Can I grab a quick shower?”

  “Sure.” She thought she caught a hint of relief in his tone.

  When she caught sight of herself in the bathroom mirror, she understood why. Was that really her? Her hair was dragged back from her face in a ponytail that hung limp. Her eyes were shadowed from lack of sleep and she was wearing the worst of her work clothes. They hung from her frame, so she was pretty sure she’d lost weight.

  She threw herself into the shower, shampooed her hair twice, soaped herself all over and then, after drying swiftly, slapped some of the expensive body lotion on her skin. She didn’t have time for makeup or to dry her hair, but at least she was clean. She ran a comb through her wet hair, brushed her teeth, scooped up her dirty clothes and changed into a comfy pair of jeans and a blue cotton sweater that was one of her favorites.

  When she returned to the kitchen, Jackson popped the pasta into boiling water. She loved that he’d timed dinner for her convenience. Then he passed her a glass of red wine.

  She raised her glass in a silent toast and then sipped.

  She was about to set the table when she saw he’d already done so. As she scanned the empty fruit bowl, the breadless bread bin, she said, “I don’t normally live like this.”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  She rolled her stiff neck. Suddenly, Jackson was behind her, his strong hands kneading the knots in her neck and shoulders. She pressed her lips together to keep from moaning with pleasure. The touch of his fingers on her skin, the feel of him right there behind her, made her quiver in parts that hadn’t quivered in too long. She realized she wasn’t only starving for food.

  Then she frowned. “Wait. Does Sylvia know you’re here?”

  His hands paused, then continued their magic. “Sylvia? No.”

  She felt fuzzy. Going too long without proper nutrition or sleep was making her stupid. “But you’re seeing her.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “You went out for dinner together. Amy said so.”

  He moved, taking his lovely massaging hands with him, so he was in front of her, where she could see his face. “We had a drink after work. That was it. I think she’s seeing Daniel.”

  “Daniel? English Daniel? But—” She shut up before she sounded like a twit, boasting that Daniel had asked her out and she’d turned him down.

  But Jackson did the crinkly-eyed thing that always made her knees weak. “He asked you out?”

  She nodded.

  “You turn him down?”

  She paused, and then nodded again. “I’m too busy to date,” she explained.

  “Oh.”

  The humor of the situation started to hit her. “What did you tell Sylvia?”

  He paused and turned back to the stove. Finally, he said, “I told her that it’s complicated.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that since she strongly suspected that she was the one complicating his life. “So they turned to each other. It’s kind of perfect, don’t you think?”

  “I do. I hope it works out for them.”

  He drained the spaghetti and spooned the sauce, and she thought how capable he was. Who knew he could cook?

  When she took her first bite, she thought nothing had ever tasted so good. The flavors exploded in her mouth and she had to force herself to take her time, not to gobble down her meal like a starving person.

  It was quiet. He hadn’t put on music and after the noise of her workshop, she was grateful for the silence. “How was your week?” she asked.

  Normally they didn’t talk about personal stuff. But he’d driven all the way out here to check on her. He’d cooked her dinner. She felt as though something had shifted and taking an interest in his life was okay.

  He blinked, as though as surprised as she was that she’d asked him about his work. “It was good. We’re beta-testing part of the site. How about you? Tell me about the commission.”

  So she did. Explaining her concept, and how the job had grown during the week to a much bigger project than she’d envisioned. “That’s why I’m so slammed.”

  “Maybe you need help.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not good at asking for help.”

  He smiled. “I can see that.” Then he leaned forward. “I need to work tomorrow, but there’s nothing planned for the weekend that I can’t blow off. How about I come back tomorrow night. I’ll cook for you. Then I’ll help out over the weekend. I can lift heavy things, keep you fed and watered. What do you think?”

  What did she think? She sipped her wine, pondering. One: the way her heart leaped when he offered to spend the weekend with her made her a little nervous. She’d believed he was no longer available to her. That he was seeing Sylvia. Now it turned out he’d missed her enough to drive up here and they were back on again. Two: if he got in her way and kept interrupting her, she’d be worse off than she was now. Three: if he was as good as his word, this weekend could make the difference between stressed success and relaxed success, since failing to complete such a prestigious commission on time was not an option.

  She put down her wineglass. “Here’s the deal. If it works, you stay. If you slow me down or get in the way, you go. Fair?”

  “Fair.”

  “And thanks.”

  He rose, took their empty dishes to the sink. She got up to help him,
but he waved her away. “You need to rest. I’ll wash up.”

  “It’s a long drive back,” she said, walking behind him and wrapping her arms around him. He felt solid, warm, sexy.

  “It is,” he agreed.

  “Maybe you should stay.”

  “You want me to?”

  More than she wanted the earth to keep turning. “Yes.”

  “Okay. Go slip into nothing and I’ll be there in a minute.”

  15

  LAUREN WOKE SLOWLY, stretching luxuriously. As she came to full consciousness, she was fairly certain there was a smile on her face. Mmm. If ever a woman had needed the release of a couple of rounds of great sex, she was that woman and last night had been the night.

  As she rolled over, she noticed that she was alone in bed. She stretched once more and got out of bed. It was just after seven and she felt fantastic, inspired, ready to face the day.

  When she wandered into the kitchen, she found a scrawled note in the middle of the counter, a red-and-green apple holding down the corner like a paperweight. Beside it was a granola bar. The note said, “Remember to eat. See you tonight. J.”

  As love letters went, it didn’t rate all that high, but she was certain that apple and the granola bar hadn’t come from her kitchen. He must have had them in his car, leftover from a lunch or a trip to the market.

  She bit into the apple and found it crisp and sweet. Just like Jackson.

  As she brewed coffee, she thought about how she was letting him into her home, her life. Letting him help her this weekend. Seemed to her that this suggested they were moving beyond casual sex to some kind of a relationship. The notion scared her a bit—they were so different, understood each other so rarely. And yet...

  Something about the two of them together worked. Maybe it wouldn’t work forever, but it was working for now.

  Anyhow, she didn’t have time to think about her personal life. Not now, not when her professional life was taking over every waking minute. She’d see how the weekend went, if he even showed up as he’d said he would, and then after it was over she’d worry about the future. Feeling good about things, she finished her apple and then pulled on some old work clothes.