Sensational

by Janet Nissenson

  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?”

  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.

  “Did I say that?” he whispered. “You’re always beautiful, Lauren, always desirable. But tonight you’re spellbinding. Sensational. And I’m no more immune than the next man.”

  She stared at him in bewilderment, but before she could dream up a response, Ben gave a slight shake of his head, silently cautioning her not to speak.

  But she didn’t mind, not so long as she could remain in his arms for another minute or two. She didn’t need – or want – any words to spoil this stolen moment, knowing that it was bound to end far too soon.

  ***

  Elle couldn’t decide if she was hurt or angry or mortified – or a combination of all three raging emotions. She sniffled as she gazed at herself in the mirror, daintily dabbing a tissue at the corner of her eyes where her makeup had become ever so slightly smudged. She’d escaped into the ladies lounge a good ten minutes ago, struggling to maintain her composure and not have a very undignified public weeping fit – or worse, a jealous rage – out in the banquet room.

  She’d been upset all evening, ever since Ben had impulsively accepted Chris’s invitation to sit at the same table with Karl, Lauren, and their dates. He’d jumped in so quickly that he hadn’t given Elle an opportunity to think up a believable excuse – which she suspected had been his intention. She wouldn’t have minded so much if it had just been Karl, or even Chris – not that they were her favorites among Ben’s staff by any means. But the moment she’d seen that Lauren was in attendance tonight, her entire evening had been ruined.

  The photographer admittedly looked good tonight, Elle acknowledged grudgingly, carrying off the dramatic black lace de la Renta like few other women could. Elle had greeted the younger woman coolly, and hadn’t missed the knowing little smile she’d received in return. Lauren had to be well aware of Elle’s thinly veiled animosity towards her, and it infuriated Elle that Lauren didn’t seem to let that bother her one bit.

  In Lauren’s favor, Elle conceded that she’d barely spoken to or even looked at Ben all evening, and had spent most of the time chatting with her escort Carlo or with Karl’s girlfriend Tamsyn. But Lauren’s offhand treatment hadn’t stopped Ben from looking at her whenever he thought no one else would notice. It seemed to Elle that nearly every time she’d stolen a discreet sideways glance at him his brooding gaze had been fixed on the lovely, vivacious Lauren.

  Elle had grown angrier and more upset as the evening wore on, her nails digging into the tender flesh of her palms as she’d struggled to hold it all together. Rather petulantly, she’d continually called Ben’s attention back to her, asking him questions and engaging him in conversation, but it hadn’t entirely stopped his covert glances across the table.

  She’d been so startled when Carlo had charmingly asked her to dance that she hadn’t been able to think of an excuse before he’d taken her hand in his. And at first she had found his attention flattering, unable to deny that he really was very attractive and had lovely manners. It was hard to believe that this suave, sophisticated man in the Brioni tuxedo, with his gleaming white teeth and perfectly styled hair, was actually the brother of the brawny, long haired, and tattooed Franco. Carlo had kept up a steady stream of conversation, and Elle hadn’t missed the way nearly everyone in the room kept staring at him, evidently far more of a movie fan than she was.

  And then she had spied Ben and Lauren dancing together, and it had felt like someone had plunged a knife into her chest. He’d been holding her far too closely for Elle’s liking, and Lauren seemed to be perfectly content to have his arm banded around her tiny waist. But it was the way they continued to gaze at each other, the looks of longing and of something else she couldn’t quite define, that made her feel sick at heart. And when Carlo had followed the direction of her shell shocked gaze, he’d merely given her a knowing little smile, leaving her to suspect he’d manipulated all of this – asking her to dance so that Ben and Lauren could be alone. Elle had given him a frosty glare, which had only made his smile deepen, and had none too politely excused herself the second the song was finished. Meanwhile, Ben and Lauren continued to dance as the next song began, seemingly having forgotten about their own dates or anyone else in the room for that matter.

  So she’d hidden out here in the lounge, not trusting herself to be around other people until she could compose herself. Her parents had always instilled in her the need to conduct herself in a ladylike manner no matter what the circumstances, and she wasn’t about to cause a scene in front of two hundred or so of Ben’s co-workers – including Brad van Patten, the editor in chief and her father’s old friend.

  As Elle reapplied lip gloss with a trembling hand, she wondered if her parents had been right about Ben all along. Both her mother and her father - as tactfully and civilly as possible, of course – had suggested more than once that perhaps Ben wasn’t quite the right man for her. They had pointed out the very different sort of upbringings they’d both had, the gap in their financial and social statuses, their widely varied interests, and had wondered just what it was that Elle saw in him.

  She’d asked herself that question any number of times, knowing that her parents brought up good points. She and Ben had very little in common, though she knew he tried very hard to indulge her when it came to things like dining, books, movies, and the friends they socialized with. Elle guiltily acknowledged that she had done very little compromising on her end, hadn’t even considered the possibility of eating a burrito or drinking a beer, seeing an action movie, or going backpacking or mountain biking. All things, she thought darkly, that Lauren no doubt enjoyed as much as Ben did.

  She couldn’t properly explain her attraction – her fascination – with Ben, except to know that she had been inexplicably attracted to him from the very first time they’d met. Perhaps it had been because he was so different from herself, or from all the other properly brought up young men she’d associated with since childhood. Whatever the reason, she loved him deeply and took great pride in the fact that they were a couple. Even if he had yet to say those three magical words to her after all this time.

  She had never been happier than she had in the last eighteen months or so. Except, she thought with a glower, when women smiled at him o
r did their damndest to flirt with him wherever they went. She knew he lost patience with her at times over the jealous rages she would fly into, as well as the bouts of weeping. But she’d been making a real effort to control both of those things, had been doing a much better job of it lately. At least until tonight – when the woman who continually kept getting stuck in Elle’s craw had caused her to struggle mightily for control once again.

  As if on cue, the door to the ladies lounge opened, and Lauren strode in. Though it was really more of a limp at this point, the tawny haired woman clearly not used to walking around in four inch heels for hours at a time. Elle’s spine stiffened as Lauren walked over, a bright smile on her face.

  “Oh, hey, Elle. Here you are. Ben was just wondering where you went,” Lauren said cheerfully. “God damn, these shoes are killing me! I don’t care if these cost eight hundred bucks, I’d trade them in for a pair of Old Navy flip flops right about now. Hey, are you okay? You look like you’ve been crying or something.”

  “I’m fine.” Elle gave a small sniff. “Though now that you’re here there is a question I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

  Lauren gave a little shrug as she peered at herself in the mirror. “Sure. Ask away.”

  “Exactly how long have you been having an affair with Ben?”

  Lauren froze at Elle’s calmly uttered inquiry. The shock was evident on her face, her skin paling visibly beneath her makeup, her green eyes wide.

  “Elle,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. “I am not having an affair with Ben. Why - ”

  “Don’t bother to deny it,” interrupted Elle with a hiss. “I’ve seen the way you keep looking at each other tonight, the way you both looked when you were dancing. And I know you had that – that actor arrange it so that you could have Ben to yourself.”

  “No.” Lauren shook her head emphatically. “To both accusations. Carlo had no reason to do something like that. And I assure you that there is absolutely nothing going on between Ben and I.”