And even though she would have known him anywhere with those piercing eyes, ruggedly handsome features, and hard, leanly muscled body, Ben had changed in too many other ways to count. His dark blond hair was still cut in the same close-cropped style, but was a bit longer these days. He was clean shaven, without a trace of the thick stubble that she’d always found so sexy. The earring was missing from his lobe, and the long sleeved beige cotton shirt hid his tattoo – the one that was a twin to her own. In addition to the button-down, he wore dark tan khakis and brown leather loafers.

He looked nothing like the gorgeous, chiseled man who’d rode into her life on his motorcycle wearing faded jeans and an equally faded T-shirt. The one she’d dragged along on her daily surfing excursions; the one who’d trekked through the Ventana wilderness with her, or walked the dogs along the beach; the one who’d sparred with her out on the deck as they went through their martial arts drills; and he most definitely looked nothing like the man who’d fucked her with unrepentant hunger on nearly every surface of her cabin, inside and out.

The lover she’d alternately longed for and called every vile name in the book was gone, replaced by this unsmiling stranger who regarded her somberly.

Karl had an odd look on his bearded face as he glanced back and forth between Lauren and Ben, and she suddenly realized that the rest of her crew had quickly picked up on the strange vibes that reverberated through the room.

“Uh, Lauren, this is our new editor – Ben Rafferty. Ben, meet the infamous Lauren McKinnon. Or, as we’re fond of calling her, Her Majesty.”

Lauren knew without having to look in a mirror that her eyes would be spitting emerald fire right about now as she silently dared Ben to act as though they were meeting for the very first time. “Welcome aboard, Ben,” she told him in a cool, measured voice. “I assume you’ve been given fair warning what you’ve got yourself into by taking this job.”

Chris looked startled, and George’s eyes were nearly bugging out of their sockets at her admittedly impudent greeting, but Ben merely gave her an amused smile as he extended a hand towards her.

“Your crew has been keeping me entertained for the past hour or so with tales of some of your, er, adventures,” he replied, neither acknowledging or denying that they’d already met. “I’m looking forward to working with all of you. And now that you’ve finally arrived, let’s sit down and discuss your next assignment, shall we?”

Lauren’s hackles rose up instantly at the very businesslike, impersonal manner in which he’d greeted her, and when she finally shook his hand it was with a grip so fierce that Ben visibly winced. She wished viciously that her fingernails were long enough to dig into his flesh and draw blood.

“I wasn’t intentionally late,” she muttered sullenly. “My flight from Chicago was delayed by bad weather. And it certainly wasn’t my idea to book a connecting flight, or a red-eye.”

“You could have called from JFK when you landed to update us,” pointed out George in that priggish, kiss-ass manner of his that she loathed. “And then to take extra time for a Starbucks run when you knew everyone was waiting was just rude.”

Lauren was in George’s ruddy, plump-cheeked face before Karl could hold her back, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Listen up, Georgina. I haven’t had any sleep in almost thirty hours, I can still hear screaming babies and smell sweat and curry from the guys seated on either side of me. I need more coffee, food, a shower, and a nap in that exact order. So back off – get it? Otherwise, I’m going to - ”

This time Karl took a firm grip of her arm as she would have reached inside her boot – a place where he knew she often stashed a switchblade, and steered her to a chair. “Easy there, tiger,” he whispered. “I’ll get you some more coffee and Chris snagged a bagel for you earlier. So leave the weaponry alone before George pisses himself.”

With some satisfaction, Lauren noticed the fearful expression on George’s face, and then smiled gratefully as Karl and Chris placed coffee and a bagel in front of her in turn. But it was the expression on Ben’s face as he watched all of this unfold that puzzled her – a combination of impatience, amusement, and what looked almost like jealousy. Idly she wondered if Ben thought that she and Karl were an item, given the way her co-worker tended to look out for her, even though he knew better than anyone just how capable she was of taking care of herself. But then she dismissed that crazy idea, not allowing herself to believe that Ben cared about her in that way any longer. All she’d ever been to him was a place to crash for a few days, and an all too convenient booty call.

And now, by some horrific twist of fate that she couldn’t even begin to come to grips with, he was evidently her new boss. As Ben began this short, informal meeting with the crew, Lauren wondered why on earth he would have wanted an editorial job, especially since he’d talked at length about how much he loved to travel and see new places. This new job would all but eliminate that aspect, tying him to the office for the majority of the time. Try as she might, Lauren just couldn’t see him in that role. Ben was nothing like Quinn or any of the other editors or executives – he was too quiet, almost introverted, and certainly not the corporate ladder-climbing type.

So something had happened in the past four and a half years that had changed him. Or else she had never really known him at all.

***

“Thanks, Karl. I’m glad we’ve had time to chat one on one. I just hope I haven’t bit off more than I can chew with this job.”

Ben’s admission to the long-haired travel writer was made wryly, but also with an honesty he couldn’t mask. Out of all the members of his new staff that he’d met with thus far, Karl was the one he’d felt an almost instant affinity with. They were both loners of a sort, both writers, and the same age. Karl, however, thought Ben glumly, could still wear faded jeans, flannel shirts, and cowboy boots to work, while he now found himself wearing what he’d rather resentfully dubbed his yuppie wardrobe. Still, the khakis and button down shirt were vastly preferable to one of his suits.

“You’ll do fine,” assured Karl quietly. “Despite what you might think, your lack of actual editorial experience isn’t a big deal. Personally, I’m thrilled to have someone on board who’s actually been through the same experiences as we have. Though I’m guessing Conde Nast put you up at much nicer places than some of the borderline dumps we’ve stayed at over the years.”

Ben shrugged. “I guess so. Though I’ve always been more comfortable roughing it in a tent or log cabin than a five-star resort. I envy some of the assignments your crew has gone on, would have much rather written an article about glacier hiking in Iceland than a new golf course in Florida.”

Karl walked over to the door. “Well, I hope you’ll be able to go with us on an assignment one of these times. So, who’s up next?”

After the relatively brief team meeting, Ben had met with each member one on one – except for the final member of the team and the one person in all the world he’d never expected to see again – much less under such awkward, impossible circumstances.

“Lauren.”

It was the first time he’d uttered her name out loud since he had left Big Sur. In the ensuing years, he had never talked about her to anyone, not even Elle. To this day, Elle still didn’t know Lauren’s name or where they’d met, facts that he was suddenly grateful for. Because there was little doubt that the two women – his past and his present – were now bound to meet up eventually, and Ben only hoped it wouldn’t be a disaster in the making.

“Ah.” Karl nodded. “You’ve saved Her Majesty for last. And now that you’ve actually met her, what do you think?”