Page 30 of Home to Me

Normally, wardrobe fittings were one of Ben's favorite days. He loved the wardrobe mistresses. Barbara and Marlene were two of his favorite people in the world. They were hilarious. During the three years he’d worked on the show, he’d grown very close to both them and their families.

But, today, all he could think about was Lauren. Lauren and her beautiful body. Lauren and what it would be like to make love to her.

And it wasn't just her body that was sending Ben into a frenzy of barely controlled arousal. It was also her manner. He’d never seen her this easy and assured. He loved watching her interact with Barbara and Marlene. He was impressed with the way she seemed to so quickly get used to being poked and prodded, pulled at and adjusted. At first, he hadn't been sure if she would be able to handle it. It wasn't an easy transition to make at your very first wardrobe fitting, especially if you walked in not knowing what was in store for you.

He was learning that Lauren Harrison was adaptable to pretty much any situation, a survival-of-the-fittest, adapt-or-die kind of girl, and he loved that. She kept surprising him, and he liked that too.

He smirked grimly to himself.

Too bad she wasn't his type.

9

Lauren sat straight up in bed, her head filled with an odd buzzing. What was that sound? Why was it bothering her in the middle of the night?

After a few moments, her fuzzy head cleared enough to realize that the sound was the text message notification on her phone. She pulled her phone off of the nightstand and, through blurry eyes, saw that it was a text from the driver saying that he was out front, ready to pick her up.

Lauren was momentarily confused, but when she glanced down, she saw that she was dressed only in a towel.

“Oh shit!”

Suddenly she had a crystal-clear memory of lying down after she took a shower last night. Damn. Why had she done that? She just thought she was going to close her eyes for a few minutes—which was, of course, always the kiss of death. She’d been exhausted from both the meeting and the wardrobe fitting, which had taken several hours.

After all of that, she’d had her real job to deal with. She’d tied up all of the loose ends at the office, seeing as she was going to be out of town for a few days.

She hadn't gotten home until well past midnight. Her plan had been to shower, pack, and then catch a few hours of sleep before the car came to pick her up for the airport.

Well, at least she'd gotten through the shower part of it. The rest had been completely derailed.

She quickly texted the driver back, letting him know that she would be right out.

Lauren began running around the room like a crazy person, grabbing anything and everything she thought she might need, and tossing it pell-mell into her rolling suitcase. Her wardrobe, thank God, was taken care of by production, so if worst came to worst, she could literally wear sweats every moment that she wasn’t on set.

For Lauren that really would be the worst thing.

Her mind was racing and she found it hard to concentrate on these simple tasks that she must now accomplish because of the near panic that was crowding her brain. She tried to calm down and tell herself to simply concentrate on one task at a time, because rushing around with no rhyme or reason was not going to get her packed and out the door any quicker.

She still felt the shakes from being awoken so unexpectedly. She had a pervasive sense of dread that came from running late, and—insult to injury—she wasn’t able to prepare her travel list because she had planned on doing that immediately after showering.

On top of all that, she felt guilt and embarrassment over the fact that it was only her first day and, like the big diva personality she never wanted to be, she was already making the car service wait for her. She hated that.

Wasn't this the exact kind of behavior she had berated Ben about? She sighed as she tossed a pair of shoes into her garment bag. She felt so out of control.

After hastily packing a few more garments, she pulled on a pair of jeans and the white V-neck T-shirt she’d worn on Saturday while lounging around the house. It obviously wasn’t the traveling outfit she would've chosen, but it was what happened to be lying across the arm of her reading chair in the bedroom.

Lastly, she ran into the bathroom to pack her toiletries, gave her teeth a quick brush, and ran a comb through her sleep-matted hair.

On the way out of her bedroom, she grabbed her purse and her luggage, including her carry-on with her laptop and some paperwork she needed to go over. With a sense of accomplishment and relief, she pulled on her winter coat and stepped out of the door.

As she approached the car, the driver met her halfway to her front door and relieved her of the larger bag.

She felt horrible for causing him to wait, and she apologized profusely, explaining that she overslept.

She felt somewhat better when, in the face of her apology, he honestly looked like he couldn’t have cared less. Right, she thought. He is probably being paid by the hour. Why would he care whether he spends it driving me or waiting for me? Still, she couldn't shake the sense of guilt, the sense that she’d disrespected his time.

He opened the back door for her and she quickly removed her coat before slipping into the back seat. Looking up at him she thanked him as he closed the door. Movement caught her attention and she turned in her seat.

Great, she thought sarcastically. Of course. It was the perfect end to a perfect morning.

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