Page 33 of Home to Me

Trying not to think about the fact that she’d spent the entire day with Ben looking like…she looked, she quickly turned on the shower, letting the water run. As she did this, she called Karina. She was freaked out about the one-bed predicament and knew that if anyone could be blasé about the situation, it would be Karina.

She held the phone to her ear, listening to it ring, and whispered desperately to herself, “Pick up, pick up, pick up...”

Which, luckily, Karina did.

“Hey, TV star. How’s Aspen?” Karina greeted her cheerfully.

“Grand Junction,” Lauren whispered into the phone.

“What happened? And why are you whispering?” Karina whispered back to her.

“We have been waylaid due to weather. As have many other people, which is why the only hotel room we were able to get has one bed. And we're sharing it. Together.”

“Nice!” Karina replied.

“No, it's not nice!” Lauren retorted in a harsh whisper.

“It sounds pretty nice to me. What’s the problem? This seems like an excellent opportunity.”

“The problem is that, with my newly discovered knowledge that I want to have sex with Ben Stevens, I don't trust myself sleeping in a bed with him!”

“Honestly, Lauren, I feel like you're overthinking this. Take this as a sign from the universe. It's perfect—stuck together in a storm, a hotel room with only one bed. You couldn’t have engineered a situation this good. This is what movies are made of.”

“I'm trying to be serious here, Karina.”

“So am I!” Karina replied with conviction.

“So, what are you saying then? I should sleep with Ben?”

“Do you want to sleep with Ben?”

“You already know I want to sleep with Ben.”

“Well, therein lies your answer. Can you believe me? I'm like frickin' Confucius up in here. I should start an advice column.”

Lauren sighed. “Okay, Confucius, I’ve got to go. He thinks I'm in the shower.”

Karina began, “Ask him to join—”

But Lauren had already disconnected the call.

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Ben looked over the place settings he’d laid out for himself and Lauren while she was in the shower. Not bad. Pretty basic, true—just the covered plates surrounded by napkins, drinking glasses, and silverware—but at least it showed that he was making an effort.

He was just smoothing out the last napkin when Lauren emerged from the bathroom looking fresh and revived.

The force of her appearance nearly knocked him right on his ass.

She was wearing loose and flowing, charcoal-grey, silk boxers, the deep color of which set off the creamy complexion of her legs to perfect advantage. On top, she had on a tighter, stretchy, coral-colored tank top with a bit of lace around the low-cut neckline.

Her hair was wet and freshly combed, and he could smell her shampoo from across the room. Or maybe, he thought, you start to smell flowers when you're having a stroke? Because that's what it felt like he was having.

This didn't feel like the sort of thing he thought of as 'attraction'—when you see a sexy woman, take note of her assets, and feel a visceral pull in your groin that tells you that you'd like to sleep with her. No. This felt like getting hit with a nuclear bomb.

He didn't think anything could be sexier than what Lauren was wearing to travel today—a simple V-neck shirt and jeans—but that was because he hadn’t seen her in her current nighttime attire.

He ran his hands over his face, rubbing them up and down as if he were scrubbing, trying to bring himself back to earth. Shit. He was never going to make it through dinner, much less the entire night with her.

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