The Guy Most Likely To...: Underneath It AllCan't Get You Out of My HeadA Moment Like This

by Leslie Kelly; Janelle Denison; Julie Leto

  “You’re acting like I’m half naked.”

  Fortunately for him, she was half naked. He could stand here looking at her all day…or until she moved the bucket again.

  Unfortunately, she was half naked in a public hallway. Where anyone else—any other dude—could walk up and see her. They were within eyeshot of the elevators. The doors could slide open at any moment exposing her to the leering eyes of a dozen ex-football players, drunk and horny, wanting to relive their high school carousing.

  His inner caveman rising up as he imagined it, he frowned and took her arm. “Let’s go into your room and talk in private.”

  “We have nothing to talk about, and I need some ice,” she insisted. Yanking away, she turned toward the vending area, which was right across the hall from the alcove where he’d hidden. At least she hadn’t been planning to hike down a long corridor in such skimpy attire.

  But that yank and the quick turn made her robe flare even more, from the waist down. It was quick, just a second, then it settled back into place. Even a second was long enough to confirm what he’d suspected: she wasn’t wearing one damn thing else. Hunger flooded his mouth and blood roared through his veins, settling right in his groin. His head spinning, his mind tried to re-create the gorgeous, perfect image that had flashed before his eyes.

  He was doing an excellent job of it, if he did say so himself. He’d always been a pretty visual guy.

  But when he heard a door close from down the hall, Seth reacted quickly. He’d be damned if any other man would get such a gift. Not if he could help it.

  He snatched the ice bucket from her hands. “I’ll get the stupid ice. Get in your room before some horny creep sees you like this.”

  “Too late,” she said with a sneer.

  Oy. Why the hell was he doing this? It would be less difficult to climb Everest than to think Lauren was going to forgive him. And less painful to gnaw his own foot off to get out of a bear trap than endure her insults while he tried to get her to.

  “Please, Lauren, get inside,” he insisted, gesturing down her body. “That robe might have felt demure when you put it on, but considering your nipples are hard and your legs are shaking, you look like you’re begging somebody to do you like you’ve never been done before.”

  Gasping, she gripped the edges of the robe and crossed her arms over her chest. “That was…”

  “True.”

  “Damn you, Seth.”

  “Damn me all you want. Behind closed doors.”

  She hesitated for a moment, then slowly nodded and turned toward her door, which presented him with the back view—Good God, that ass is a work of art. Recently, his memories had been mostly about how much he’d cared about her, loved her, so he hadn’t really anticipated such intense heat. It churned in his gut, sucking his breath from his lungs, emptying his brain. He was aware of nothing except her smell and her softness. And how she looked. Oh, God, the way those long, milky-white thighs had looked, topped with a soft tuft of curls he was dying to explore, with his hands, his mouth, his cock. All of the above, once and then again and again.

  Every masculine fiber of his being was ready to do it, from his tingling fingertips, to his breathless mouth, to his rock-hard dick, which was currently putting his zipper through one hell of a strength test.

  He’d never been so confused by his own emotions. He was torn between anger, regret, excitement and sharp, pounding lust. All directed at or caused by her.

  Get her alone. Say what you have to say. Then see what happens.

  Maybe he’d fly back to L.A. filled with all those same crazy emotions and that same twisted sense of pain and pleasure he felt every minute he spent with her. Or maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe she was protesting so much because she still had feelings for him, too.

  She might claim to hate him, but once they were alone inside that room, would the ice queen’s facade melt? God, he hoped so.

  Hardly able to stand the few minutes more, he watched as she unlocked her door and stepped inside. Then she turned and looked at him. He should have known by her expression she was going to say something he didn’t like.

  And she did.

  “Funny. I’ve suddenly decided I prefer my water warm.”

  With a triumphant smile, she slammed the door in his face.

  Well, so much for melting.

  “You could give the Snow Miser a run for his money.”

  He only hoped he wasn’t the one who’d frozen her heart into such solid rigidity. God, did he ever hope that.

  Seth considered leaving the ice chest right outside her door. It would serve her right if she tripped over it when she left her room. Then he thought better of it, imagining her tripping over the thing, breaking a leg. While he felt aggravated that she was being so stubborn, not giving him a chance to make a proper apology, he didn’t want her hurt. Not by him. He’d been there, done that and never wanted to buy another Seth-broke-my-heart T-shirt.

  So, filling the bucket with ice for her, and leaving it on the alcove table, he boarded the elevator. He headed for the Wild West saloon-themed bar and ordered a beer. Nursing it, he argued with himself about what he was doing, trying to persuade himself to give up, get a cab to the airport and get on the first plane back to L.A.

  But he couldn’t. He’d come this far, and had been so close—close enough to touch her, smell her, share her warmth and hear the voice that haunted his dreams. No, he wasn’t leaving. Not without having his say.

  By the time he’d finished his drink, he realized the dinner had already started. Feeling calmer, he headed for the banquet room, which he’d mapped out earlier. When he got there, he immediately scanned the room, spying her at the correctly numbered table…the one where he’d arranged to be seated, too.

  Not only had she come, she’d put on her female armor, obviously preparing herself to face him tonight.

  She looked absolutely beautiful, almost as perfect now as she had when flashing him from beneath that robe. Not that she hadn’t been practically perfect in his eyes when they’d bumped into each other this afternoon, of course. Nothing could hide the natural beauty of Lauren’s heart-shaped face, the jewel-blue hue of her eyes or the thickness of her golden-brown hair, now hanging around her shoulders in thick waves. But unlike earlier, when she’d appeared frazzled and weary, she was absolutely put together now, wearing tasteful makeup, not a hair out of place, dressed in a blue cocktail dress that clung to her perfectly.

  He’d bet she was wearing heels. Lauren wasn’t short. In fact, she was of average height. But she’d always worn high-heeled shoes when she needed to build up her self-confidence.

  He leaned his head to the side and swept his gaze downward, noting the long, shapely, bare legs. And her feet.

  Four inches. At least. Spike-heeled power shoes that were supposed to make her feel tall and in control but just made her look sexy as hell.

  He smiled as he wove his way toward her table. A few people recognized him and said hello, others merely raised curious brows, but he didn’t pause. No way was he giving Lauren a chance to spot him and leave. She couldn’t very well get up and march out the second he sat down, right?

  He sat down. “Hello, everyone.”

  She stood up. “Goodbye, everyone.”

  Damn. She startled a laugh right out of him. But knowing better than to try to reason with her, he simply muttered, “Chicken.”

  She glared. “I’m not a chicken.”

  “What do you call running away?”

  “Self-preservation.”

  “You don’t have to protect yourself. I’m not trying to hurt you.”

  “Why not? It’s what you do best.”

  “Ouch,” somebody muttered.

  They both looked around the table at the other half-dozen people, all of whom were watching them.

  “Sit down, sweetie. Don’t let him spoil your night,” said the woman sitting on the other side of Lauren. Seth recognized her as Lauren’s best friend.

  “Hello
, Maggie. Nice to see you.”

  The pretty blonde grunted. “I thought you were in prison.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you.”

  “Oh, you’re good at disappointing people.”

  Another ouch. Lauren had an army of defenders, it appeared.

  “It’s all right, Maggie,” said Lauren, slowly sinking back onto her chair. “He doesn’t bother me.”

  “Certainly not intentionally,” he insisted.

  She rolled her eyes.

  A guy Seth recognized from his senior English class offered him the first genuine smile he’d seen since he’d entered the room. “Nice to see you, Crowder.”

  “You, too, Josh.”

  “How’s life? Where are you living these days?”

  “West Coast.”

  Beside him, he saw Lauren yawn, as if she were completely uninterested. He didn’t believe that, though. Tension rolled off her. Ambivalence usually didn’t cause stiff shoulders, clenched fists and a defiantly uptilted chin.

  “What do you do?” the other man asked.

  “Actually, I’m a sports agent.”

  “Get out,” the other man said, immediately intrigued as anyone with testosterone always was when they found out what he did for a living. If he mentioned the names of some of his clients, Josh would probably fall over.

  Waving a hand to gloss over what was, if he did say so himself, a pretty cool job, he said, “I couldn’t make it into the pros myself. Next best thing, I guess.”

  “We always thought you would,” Josh replied, earnest and loyal as always. He smiled cautiously, casting an apologetic look at Lauren before adding, “I sometimes wondered if that’s where you went—if you got drafted into the bigs and they wanted you in training right away.”

  “If only,” Seth said. Then, aware he had Lauren’s full attention—and also aware this might be the only time he had that attention, since she would be looking out for him now, knowing he’d manipulated himself into the seat beside her—he went ahead and came out with the truth.

  “Nothing nearly as great as the NFL,” he explained. “The real story is…”

  Lauren shifted in her seat, leaning perhaps a hairsbreadth closer, as if she wanted to hear in spite of herself.

  And he wasn’t about to disappoint her with anything except the whole, utter truth.

  “I disappeared because my crooked parents had to get out of the country fast, so they dragged me and my sister to somewhere without an extradition treaty.”

  * * *

  LAUREN HADN’T WANTED to listen to Seth. Well, she’d wanted to listen, she just hadn’t wanted to hear any of his excuses. It wasn’t that she was scared, despite what he might think about the way she’d been avoiding him. The truth was, she’d always assumed there were no excuses worth hearing.

  But the one that had come out of Seth’s kissable mouth stopped her heart from beating for a few seconds. She couldn’t breathe, could barely remain sitting upright. Because of all the things she’d imagined—good and bad—this definitely wasn’t one of them.

  “Holy shit, man, seriously?” asked Josh, taking the words right out of Lauren’s mouth.

  Seth reached for his water glass and lifted it. Lauren noticed the way the water sloshed on the top, and realized Seth’s hand was shaking. He might be projecting a smooth, everything’s-all-right attitude, but deep down, Seth was a mess. This confession, made so baldly in front of all these people, had cost him dearly. There was only one reason she could think of for him to throw it out there so publicly: because she wouldn’t allow him to say it to her privately.

  A hint of shame stabbed her. She cleared her throat. “You don’t have to do this.”

  He shrugged. “Everybody’s whispering about it, anyway. Might as well let the truth mingle in with all the stories.”

  “You’re not kidding, are you?” Maggie asked, the sneer gone, her pretty green eyes big and round.

  “I wish I were.”

  “How come we never heard about it?” Josh asked.

  “I don’t think there was a lot of news coverage until later, when the feds caught up with them.”

  One question answered. His parents were, apparently, no longer in hiding. Guess that nonextraditing country hadn’t been such a safe haven after all.

  “By then, you’d all graduated and I was old news. I don’t think my name was ever in the papers, either.”

  Even if it had been, Lauren wouldn’t have seen it. She’d left Chicago a few weeks after graduation, once she’d realized Seth really wasn’t coming back. And she’d never—despite being tempted on a few occasions—gone looking for news of him on the internet.

  “How…what…wow, they dragged you out of the country?” asked Maggie.

  “Yeah. I had gone home the night before and stayed there so I could borrow my Dad’s car to drive to the prom.”

  Lauren nodded slowly, remembering. He’d talked about that—insisting he wanted to take her in style in his dad’s Porsche.

  “I woke up that morning preparing to go pick up my tux and a corsage for Lauren. Then I came downstairs to find my father shoving cash in a briefcase and my mother scooping up the silver from the dining room. They told me there was an emergency, they were in danger and we were moving. Immediately.”

  The conversation in the banquet room had quieted significantly, and Lauren realized everybody within earshot had shut up to hear the juicy details firsthand.

  “I didn’t find out the truth until we were on a plane somewhere over Central America,” Seth continued. “Dear old Dad apparently went to the Bernie Madoff school of financial management, though on a much smaller scale. My mom helped him, and they knew they were about to be arrested.”

  He said it easily, but she heard the heartbreak there, and honestly couldn’t imagine it. She had never met Seth’s parents, but she knew they had never come to a single school event. She had the feeling he and his sister were treated as out-of-sight, out-of-mind tax deductions. Still, she couldn’t imagine having the blinders torn off your eyes like that, finding out your wealthy, well-respected parents were wanted criminals.

  As if he knew the question everybody wanted to ask, he continued. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I went. I was eighteen, and I could have thrown a fit and refused to go with them. But to be honest, I was kinda shell-shocked. Remember, I didn’t know the whole story at first—I was imagining a hit being put out on my dad by the mob or something. Not the FBI.”

  Of course, what eighteen-year-old kid after being told by his parents that they were in danger wouldn’t think something dire like that? It was certainly more logical than the wanted-by-the-authorities explanation.

  “Mainly, I was worried about Em, who wasn’t eighteen and had no choice. When she was a baby, my parents wouldn’t have remembered to feed her if it was the maid’s day off.”

  He had always been close and protective of his sister, who had been in seventh grade at the time. At just twelve or thirteen, her whole world had been shaken apart, as Seth’s had been.

  He had been speaking to everyone, but he suddenly turned his attention to Lauren. “I had time to make one phone call. I was told exactly what to say, and my father was standing there the whole time to make sure I didn’t say anything else. I’m so sorry I stood you up that night, Lauren.”

  She didn’t respond. She’d spent so many years being angry at him. To say she was confused would be an understatement. She had more questions, of course, but wasn’t sure she had the right to ask them. He was, after all, telling this story to everyone, not just to her. If he wanted anybody to know more, he’d say it.

  He didn’t, falling silent while buzzing conversations resumed at their own table and at those near enough to have overheard. This would be the talk of the reunion.

  “Seth, I don’t know what to say,” she finally replied.

  More than that, she didn’t know what to feel. She’d spent so many years resenting him for breaking her heart, imagining a million things, but nothing
close to the truth. Now, though, she wasn’t sure what to call the emotions racing through her, making her stomach churn, her fists clench, her eyes sting.

  Indignation, of course—on his behalf, and his sister’s. Anger at his parents. A huge amount of curiosity about what else had happened. How had Seth ended up back in the U.S.? And when?

  Yeah. Lots of questions. But none she wanted to ask in front of any of these people. She wasn’t sure he’d want to answer them, even in private, but she had to at least try. So, taking a deep breath and telling herself she owed him the chance to clear the air, and owed herself the chance to learn the truth and forgive him, she pushed back from the table.

  Rising to her feet, she glanced at Seth, seeing the flash of disappointment on his face and hearing his sigh. Did he think she was leaving? Walking out without a word? Was he so used to rejection and revulsion when other people heard about his family that he automatically expected it?

  Her heart—frozen and hardened against him such a long time ago—thawed the tiniest bit. They weren’t kids anymore, and far too much time had gone by for anything to happen between them. Not to mention the geography issue. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t give Seth the atonement he seemed to need.

  “Come on,” she told him, seeing the way his head jerked in surprise. “Let’s get out of here and go talk.”

  3

  SHE DIDN’T HAVE TO ASK him twice. Seth wasn’t about to stick around with these wide-eyed people who were dying to put their heads together in titillation over his confession: that the golden-boy king of the prom was the son of a couple of crooks. He’d come here for one reason—Lauren. Her finally agreeing to talk to him made the trip from California worthwhile.

  He got up, nodded to the others at the table and took Lauren’s arm. She fell into step beside him, their strides matching, as if she was just as eager to escape as he was. Her long leg brushed against his trousers and her bare shoulder was inches from his own, their hands touching as they both reached for the door handle.

  The excitement was catching; it was as if they’d both realized they were going to share a moment ten years in the making. Finally, they could clear the air, answer the questions, ask for and offer forgiveness.