And then she shocked him speechless by sliding her arms around his neck, pressing her body flush against his as she tugged his head down for her kiss. Too startled to react at first, Ben remained passive, his hands hanging loosely by his side. And while he wasn’t exactly pulling away from Elle’s very unexpected embrace, he wasn’t actively participating, either.

Elle was frowning, her delicately arched brows drawn together in confusion as she lifted her lips from his unresponsive ones. “Ben – please,” she whispered, gazing up at him imploringly. “I’ve wanted you – wanted this – from the first time we met. And I know I promised we would just be friends but I want so much more than that.”

“Elle.” He shook his head. “You know my feelings about that, know that I - ”

“I know that you’re in love with a ghost,” she told him firmly. “And that you’re throwing your whole life away because of it. It’s time, Ben. Time to let her go, and to start living again. And I want you to start over with me.”

This time as she reached up to kiss him, he didn’t push her away. Instead, he found himself kissing her back almost without being aware of his actions.

***

October

“Hold still a minute. Your tie is a little crooked. There. Perfect. Just like you look in this suit. I told you that everyone looks good in Armani, and that goes double for someone as handsome as you.”

Ben smiled as Elle gave a final adjustment to the gray and silver striped tie that she’d helped him pick out a few days ago. It coordinated perfectly with the charcoal gray suit and crisp white dress shirt, but the shockingly expensive ensemble didn’t feel at all comfortable and familiar. He had to constantly resist the urge to tug at the shirt collar, which felt snug and confining, despite the fact that it was the exact right size.

“But as good as the suit looks on you, you’ll need to lose the earring for the interview,” she said resolutely.

He touched the small, barely noticeable gold hoop. “Seriously? I mean, I already think the suit is overkill. This isn’t The Atlantic or Esquire I’m interviewing at.”

Elle shook her head. “And this isn’t New Mexico or California, Ben. Things are different here in New York, more formal, old-fashioned. You’ve seen that for yourself the past eighteen months. Take my advice and leave the earring off. And thankfully the suit and shirt cover up that ugly tattoo.”

She’d made it very clear on a number of occasions that she didn’t like his tattoo – or tattoos in general – though she’d been careful not to nag him on the subject. But Elle had a way of making her displeasure apparent, even if it was in the most subtle of ways. He’d picked up on that particular trait of hers, along with a number of others, in the three months that they’d been a couple.

The morning after they’d had sex for the first time, Ben had felt a myriad of emotions – regret, uncertainty, confusion, and guilt. And the guilt had been a double-edged sword – on one side because while his body had participated in the act with Elle, his heart and emotions had been largely absent; and on the other side because what he’d done had felt like a betrayal of what he’d had with Lauren.

Which was a ridiculous and pointless notion, because he was convinced that Lauren would have moved on long ago. Her volatile, impulsive personality would have guaranteed that she’d have found another guy within weeks, if not days, after he’d left her. She had an enormous amount of pride, and her bruised ego would have sought a quick way to soothe itself. She was a gorgeous, vibrant, and sexy woman who drew men to her like a lodestone, and flirting was second nature to her. There was absolutely no way that she hadn’t allowed other men into her life – or her bed – since the end of their short-lived relationship. Lauren was too full of life to do anything but live it to the fullest every single day. Unlike Ben, who’d been living half a life at best since he’d left her.

And that was the main reason he’d allowed himself to get swept along in this rather odd relationship he now shared with Elle. For too long now, he’d ignored the facts that he was lonely and alone, that he had no close friends here in New York, and that he’d drifted even further away from his family. And it was, well – nice to have someone who cared about him, someone to spend time with, and share things with. Elle was a great sounding board for his articles, had already traveled to a number of the places he was sent to on assignments, and was able to give him her perspective and insights.

He’d had more than his fair share of doubts at the beginning – continued to do so, in fact – but their relationship had progressed so quickly after that first night that even now his head was spinning as a result. Elle had begun introducing him to her friends as her boyfriend, had just assumed that they would spend most of their free time together, and had started to arrange his life much as she would organize her closet. He’d been too dazed at the start to resist her efforts very much, and as the weeks had passed and Elle had attached herself to him more and more, he didn’t have a clue as to how he might be able to extricate himself from the complicated threads of their new relationship.

But even though they had crossed the line from friends to lovers, Ben’s feelings for Elle hadn’t changed all that much. He still considered her a kind, soft spoken woman, admired her intelligence and accomplishments, and tried hard not to be intimidated by her unshakeable poise and sophistication. She was his closest friend, his staunchest supporter, and he felt real affection for her.

But he didn’t love her, certainly not in the way a passionate and devoted lover would, and sex between them was sweet, gentle, and rather infrequent. For him, at least, it had yet to make the earth move – not the way it had every single time he’d been with Lauren.

He had tried hard not to compare the two women, knowing that to do so would be grossly unfair to both of them. But it was almost impossible at times to shut his brain off and not think about the wide-ranging differences between them.

Elle was as fastidious about sex as she was about most everything else in her life. She wasn’t the least bit adventurous in bed, preferring to stick to the most basic of missionary positions; she wrinkled her nose in distaste at the mere suggestion of giving or receiving oral sex; insisted that he use a condom each time, even though she was using birth control and both of them had tested clean; and immediately after sex she always scurried into the bathroom to wash up.

Ben had never actually seen a bidet until he’d moved into the brownstone, much less knew anyone who used one. But Elle utilized the one in her bathroom on a regular basis, especially after sex, and would then emerge wearing an expensive but largely concealing silk nightgown to sleep in.

Lauren, on the other hand, had laughed when he’d offered to fetch a washcloth for her after they’d had sex for the first time.

“Why?” she’d inquired, grinning wickedly. “I mean, we’re just getting warmed up here, Blue Eyes. What’s the point in washing up when you’re just going to come in me again? Within the next fifteen minutes or so, I predict. Besides,” she’d whispered, her tongue tracing an erotic little pattern around his ear, “I like the feel of your cum trickling down my thighs. Why would I ever want to wash that away?”

And if she’d owned a nightgown or a pair of pajamas, she’d certainly never made use of them during their time together. She would curl up against his side unashamedly naked, and had had no qualms about walking around the cabin in the nude. She had laughed yet again when he’d begun to slip on a pair of dark gray briefs to sleep in.

“I wouldn’t bother if I were you,” she’d teased him. “You never know when someone might get the urge to give you a blow job at two in the morning. It would be a real shame if there were any obstacles in the way, wouldn’t it?”