George gaped in shock. “Who told you that? That’s confidential information, so if someone in HR is gossiping - ”

“Dude, you told us that stuff yourself,” interjected Chris with a shake of his knit cap covered head. “You really can’t hold your liquor, can you? Maybe I should videotape you the next time you have a couple of drinks. You’d be shocked at how loose your tongue gets.”

While George was busy grousing about how much this bar tab was going to set him back, Lauren very calmly took her third shot. God knew she needed the booze after the past ten days. Fortunately, she was flying home to California day after tomorrow, and could finally stop pretending to everyone for a little while – herself included – that Ben Rafferty meant nothing to her any longer and was simply her boss. Lauren excelled at many things, but acting had never been one of them, and it had been a real test of her limited skills to maintain the façade.

When she’d arrived at her Aunt Madelyn’s luxurious apartment earlier this month after learning that Ben was her new editor, she’d been grateful to see that her aunt hadn’t returned from work yet. Especially since Lauren had been a mass of quivering nerves by then, visibly shaking from the shock of having seen the man who’d broken her heart four years ago. The man she still loved – the only man she’d ever loved.

She had taken a long, blisteringly hot shower, trying valiantly to stop her tremors and get herself under control before meeting Maddy for dinner. But even the shower that was supposed to clear her head had brought back memories of Ben, and how they’d showered together every single day that he had stayed at the cabin. She had rested her forehead against the smooth granite wall, shutting her eyes tightly, and trying to banish the memories of Ben’s large, capable hands soaping up her breasts, belly, buttocks, before his fingers had slipped inside her body, opening her, pleasing her, until he’d brought her to a stunning orgasm. And then she’d returned the favor, washing his heavily muscled chest and arms before working her way down his body to the thick, hard swell of his penis. And when he’d come in her hands, pumping out thick spurts of sticky white cum, she’d wickedly whispered that now they would have to get him clean all over again.

With the help of two pre-dinner drinks, Lauren had composed herself enough that her aunt hadn’t noticed anything amiss. And after that first day, Ben had very fortunately been caught up in meetings with other employees under his supervision, enough so that Lauren had only seen him briefly in passing.

She’d had a reprieve during the two-week assignment in Australia, time to get herself under control and come to grips with the fact that, like it or not, Ben Rafferty was back in her life. Once the initial shock had worn off, she’d been overwhelmed with all the anger and bitterness and pain that she’d once sworn to never let herself feel again. But she hadn’t been able to hold it back, and had spent a lot of sleepless nights in Australia fighting back tears and scolding herself for still caring about the bastard. The only thing that had helped to calm her was going through the familiar, comforting ritual of her martial arts practice. Just as she’d done as a child while trying to control her ADHD, Lauren had used the exercises to quiet herself down and gain the upper hand on her wayward emotions.

She had returned to New York with renewed confidence that she’d be able to handle this very unwanted situation with Ben, could treat him in a casual and professional manner, and think of him as simply her boss and not her former lover. But all of her good intentions had been shot to hell the moment she’d seen him again, especially since he’d been more casually dressed – in black jeans and a dark gray Henley – and looked much more like the Ben she’d once known. He had owned a shirt very similar to that one back in Big Sur, though Lauren was willing to bet this new one had cost a hell of a lot more money.

That gray Henley had brought back a very erotic memory, since he’d been wearing that particular shirt on one of the first evenings he had spent with her. She had made an admittedly potent batch of margaritas to go with the fish tacos they’d had for dinner, and by the time the entire pitcher had been consumed they were both way beyond tipsy. She had never seen Ben as playful or lighthearted as he’d been that night, laughing and joking and thoroughly enjoying himself. And he had also been far more amorous than he’d been thus far, his kisses and caresses more aggressive and demanding, and she’d thrilled to see this more dominant side of him.

She had helped him strip the shirt from his beautifully muscled chest, her hands roaming over every inch of his hard, tanned torso before Ben had unzipped his jeans and shoved them past his knees, freeing the intimidating length of his cock.

“Suck me,” he’d urged, threading his hand into her long hair and pulling her forward until her face was even with his crotch.

“Mmm. With pleasure,” she’d murmured huskily, just before licking him up and down like a very satisfied cat.

“Fuck, yes,” he’d hissed, the profanity not something she was used to hearing from him. In general, he’d been a man of few words, one who always held a little something back, even in bed.

But he’d been wild that night, whether from the extra alcohol or simply from the passion she had incited in him. He’d barked out guttural, gasping instructions to her as she had given him a particularly enthusiastic blow job.

“That’s it, sweetheart, oh, God, yeah! You have the sweetest mouth, babe, you suck me so good,” he’d panted. “Keep that up and I’m going to come harder than I ever have before. Fuuuck, yesss!”

Lauren squirmed a little on her padded bar stool, suddenly aware that her panties were soaked simply from the recollection of that night. Ben had kept at her for hours, his hunger for her seemingly insatiable, and she had given every bit as good as she had received. They had made a mess of the bed, the sheets wrinkled and untucked and reeking of sex, of too many mutual orgasms to count. And after finally succumbing to an exhausted slumber near dawn, she had thought that a man couldn’t take a woman that many times, and with such savage, unrelenting passion, and not be as crazy in love with her as she was with him.

But apparently her instincts about men hadn’t been nearly as good as she’d believed, because Ben had walked out on her as stealthily as a fox. And had taken part of her with him when he’d left – a part that was still damaged, still missing a vital, working piece.

Lauren blamed the way she was feeling now on that damned gray Henley he’d been wearing on her first day back from Australia – the day when he had looked more like his old self – more L.L. Bean than Banana Republic. And even though he’d reverted to his new wardrobe of khakis and button-downs after that, the twin images of him in jeans and Henley – both from four years ago and a few days ago – continued to taunt her.

“Oh, hey, look who just walked in. The boss,” announced George cheerfully. “And that must be his girlfriend. Hey, Ben, over here!”

Lauren glanced up after belting down her fourth shot at George’s words, and wished it wasn’t too late to kick him in the shins with her pointy toed Bottega Venetta boots. Jesus, the last thing she needed tonight was for Ben to join them, as though they were all just a bunch of pals getting together for a few after work drinks and laughs. No, she corrected herself with a grimace, the very last thing she needed was for Ben to arrive with his girlfriend in tow. But evidently fate had decided this was a good night to fuck with her a little, and she hastily reached for the fifth shot as Ben and the mysterious Elle approached their table.