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The Guy Most Likely To...: Underneath It All / Can't Get You Out of My Head / A Moment Like This
Leslie Kelly

Julie Leto

Janelle Denison


The Guy Most Likely To…Underneath It All by Leslie Kelly Can’t Get You Out of My Head by Janelle Denison A Moment Like This by Julie LetoEver wonder what happened to the guy most likely to… …Score with the prom queen? Lauren and Seth were the high school “it” couple – until Seth disappeared on prom night. But a reunion gives Seth a chance to show Lauren an evening long overdue! …Not date a Playboy Bunny?Ali was the highlight of geeky Will’s high school years. But now that he’s ditched the nerdyness, he’s 100% of calculated hotness…and Ali won’t be able to say no! …Ride out of Town on a Harley?Rebel Scott 'Rip' Ripley always had a thing for the elusive Erica. But reunion night holds a few sexy surprises when Erica decides it’s time to take the bad boy for a ride!










Look what people are saying about these talented authors…

Leslie Kelly

“Kelly is a top writer, and this is another excellent book. 4½ stars.”

—RT Book Reviews on Play with Me

“A hip contemporary romance packed with great one-liners! 4½ stars.”

—RT Books Reviews on Terms of Surrender

Janelle Denison

“Kudos to Ms Denison for her fantastic, hot, steamy love stories and the heroes that leave you wishing you had one just like him!”

—A Romance Review

“When I want a sensuous read, I know Ms Denison delivers what I want to read: sexy heroes, sassy heroines and sinfully erotic games to die for!”

—Reader to Reader Reviews

Julie Leto

“Julie Leto certainly knows how to put the X in sex! A great and exciting read!”

—Fresh Fiction on Too Hot to Touch

“Get a cold drink when you sit down to read this one; this is one hot book!”

—Fresh Fiction on Too Wild to Hold




About the Authors


LESLIE KELLY has written dozens of books and novellas for Blaze. Known for her sparkling dialogue, fun characters and depth of emotion, her books have been honored with numerous awards, including a National Readers’ Choice Award, an RT Book Reviews Award, and three nominations for the highest award in romance, the RWA RITA


Award. Leslie lives in Maryland with her own romantic hero, Bruce, and their three daughters. Visit her online at www.lesliekelly.com or at her blog, www.plotmonkeys.com.

JANELLE DENISON is a USA TODAY bestselling author of more than fifty contemporary romance novels. She is a two-time recipient of the National Readers’ Choice Award, and has also been nominated for the prestigious RITA


Award. Janelle is a California native who now calls Oregon home. She resides in the Portland area with her husband and daughters, and can’t imagine a more beautiful place to live. To learn more about Janelle, you can visit her website at www.janelledenison.com, or you can chat with her at her blog, www.plotmonkeys.com.

Over the course of her career, New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author JULIE LETO has published more than forty books—all of them sexy and all of them romances at heart. She shares a popular blog—www.plotmonkeys.com—with her best friends Carly Phillips, Janelle Denison and Leslie Kelly, and would love for you to follow her on Twitter, where she goes by @JulieLeto. She’s a born-and-bred Floridian homeschooling mom with a love for her family, her friends, her dachshund, her lynx-point Siamese and supersexy stories with a guaranteed happy ending.




The Guy Most

Likely To…

Underneath it All

Leslie Kelly

Can’t Get You Out of My Head

Janelle Denison

A Moment Like This

Julie Leto









www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)



Underneath It All


To Janelle and Julie. This project has been a long time coming…I’m so thrilled we got to work together at last! Long live the Plotmonkeys!




Prologue


The Winfield Academy Times

May 2002

Prom Rocks: But Where Was The King?

THIS YEAR’S PROM WAS a huge success!

Held at the downtown Marriott, the members of the class of 2002 partied the night away in their tuxes and glittering dresses. The decorating committee’s “A Night in Paris” theme was a big hit and made everyone feel like they were strolling along the Seine or posing for pictures beneath the Eiffel Tower.

Deejay “Mad Mike” spun all the class’s favorite tunes, and students and faculty alike shook their stuff on the dance floor. The hotel-catered food was delicious, the punch managed to go all evening without being spiked and everyone had a great time.

There was only one incident, which left prom-goers whispering and confused.

What happened to Prom King Seth Crowder?

His queen—and longtime girlfriend—Lauren Desantos had to go up on the stage alone to be crowned, and her tears sure didn’t look like happy ones. Rumor has it that Seth stood Lauren up, with only a mysterious phone call to explain his absence.

The plot thickened Monday when word got out that Seth had withdrawn from Winfield Academy…and he hasn’t been seen or heard from since.

Which begs the question: Where’d he go?

One thing’s for sure—judging by the picture of Lauren up on that stage, all alone, looking absolutely heartbroken, Seth Crowder has some explaining to do!




1


Present Day

STANDING AT THE BACK of the A–E line at the registration desk, her dark sunglasses shielding her eyes and her stiff posture discouraging communication, Lauren Desantos came to a sudden realization. The Marquis de Sade had invented the high school reunion. Him, or that Torquemada guy from the Spanish Inquisition.

It made perfect sense; there could be no other explanation. Only someone who enjoyed seeing others squirm in discomfort, who got off on inflicting pain, who thrived on reducing mature adults back to their overemotional, whiny, bitchy, competitive, miserable adolescent selves, would have thought this reunion thing was a good idea.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, along with the fear and discomfort came other remnants of high school days—nervous twitches, weak, fake-sounding laughter. Heck, even long-left-behind acne seemed to show up. It was probably brought about by the stress of wondering who you were going to run into first, who looked better than you did, who would notice the extra ten pounds you’d put on since graduation, who would remember you had once slipped on mashed potatoes in the cafeteria. And, more important, who would ask if you ever fulfilled your dream of becoming a magazine editor and what they would say if they found out you worked in marketing for a grocery store chain.

Yeah. Pure hell. Straight evil. Really, only a masochistic idiot would ever agree to attend one of these reunions.

So what on earth am I doing here?

There were a thousand ways she could be spending this lovely summer weekend, including staying with her family during this all-too-rare visit back to the Chicago area. Instead, she’d driven outside the city to this sprawling, dubiously themed hot spot called Celebrations, which catered to the let’s-relive-past-glory-days-and-pretend-we-aren’t-bitterly-crushed-by-the-reality-of-our-adult-lives crowd. In other words, a reunion resort.

Blech. Next thing you knew, they’d be opening a spot for post-hemorrhoidal-surgery patients to get together and shake their recently-operated-upon backsides.

So get out. Go before anybody sees you.

She considered it, but knew she wouldn’t. Lauren couldn’t disappoint her oldest friend, Maggie, who had been there for her during some rough times. Now, when her friend was so unhappy and lonely after her recent divorce, how could Lauren let her down? She wasn’t a coward, or a quitter, so she just had to suck it up and get through this weekend no matter what.

She inched closer to the front of the line, staying quiet, hoping not to be seen by any of the former classmates ahead of her. Some de Sade descendant had decided nobody could get their room key until they checked in at the reunion registration desk. She had fully planned to go to her room and get cleaned up before risking running into anyone, but instead, she got stuck standing here with her suitcase and her messy hair, trying to remain invisible.

The odds weren’t good that she’d stay unnoticed. Every minute somebody recognized somebody else and the squealing commenced. Watching air kisses between girls who had ripped each other to gossipy shreds ten years ago, and man hugs between former jocks whose beer guts now got in the way of a good old-fashioned chest bump, she could only hope the first person to ID her wasn’t kissy or bumpy.

“Hello, Lauren.”

Or him.

Oh, God, she would take kissy, bumpy, fake, shrill, sexist, knowing, biting, sarcastic or slobbering over the voice she’d just heard from directly behind her.

Seth’s voice.

How can this be happening?

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she said, still staring straight ahead, not turning her head so much as an inch. Surprisingly, she didn’t stammer, sounding in control. She couldn’t imagine how that was possible, considering her throat felt filled with a huge, anger-flavored lump.

“Was that why you decided to come?”

“Yes.” The one condition she’d imposed on Maggie was that Seth not be attending. As of yesterday, his name hadn’t been on the list of attendees. Obviously he’d decided at the last minute to crash. “Still have a problem with that RSVP thing, huh?” Showing up when he wasn’t supposed to, bailing out when he was.

“Honest as ever, huh?”

His voice was still smooth, easy, sexy and masculine. Just like it had been when he was joking, flirting, whispering sweet words in her ear…and breaking her heart.

Hopefully the rest of him had changed and he had become one of those overweight, prematurely balding, red-nosed-from-too-much-beer guys. Because if he got to keep the delicious voice, he ought to at least have been forced to give up his damn good looks. And maybe a few teeth. And all his hair. A limb might not be stretching it, either. Or his peni…Don’t even go there. She wouldn’t even allow herself to think about certain body parts and Seth in the same brain wave. Allowing them to come together would be like crossing the beams and disrupting the whole space-time continuum or something.

Needing to know either way, she swung around to face him.

“Oh, hell, you would be gorgeous.”

Had she said that out loud? Yikes, the way his brow shot up told her she had. “So you were hoping I’d be a total dog?”

“It would only have been fair for your looks to match your character.”

He winced. “Score one for Desantos.”

“I’m not keeping score,” she insisted.

She didn’t want to keep score with him, or to exchange zingers. She wanted to go on believing she was completely over him… Which was easier to do when she didn’t have to look at his unfairly handsome face.

The eighteen-year-old Seth had been super cute in the way young, lean guys are. The twenty-eight-year-old one ought to have one of those hazard labels, like the kind on the side of cigarette packages. Warning: Guys This Hot Are Dangerous To Your Heart and Your Underwear.

Because he was so very, very hot. He’d break hearts and melt panties. Seth was a veritable perfect storm of good looks and sexuality, designed to sink a woman’s resistance and drown her in her own physical hunger.

His hair was thick and dark, shorter now, but he had a few of those tiny finger-tempting curls at his nape. The dark green eyes were deep-set, heavily lashed, punctuated by light laugh lines on either side, and they still twinkled. Ugh.

His face was a little scruffy, unshaven. No more smooth-cheeked youth, he had the kind of rough jaw a woman would want rubbing against her skin, leaving deliciously wicked red marks.

And his body…wow, the body had definitely matured. Seth had played football in high school, but he’d been the quarterback, so he’d been fast and lean, not bulky. Now he had muscles on top of his muscles. Every inch of him looked powerful, from the broad shoulders clad in a tight black T-shirt down to the massive chest, the rippled stomach with hair.

Stop it. You can’t see his stomach or any hair.

Only, she could. In her mind’s eye.

She suddenly realized he’d caught her staring. Heat rushed into her cheeks. Jeez, she hadn’t blushed since she was a teenager.

“So, do I pass inspection?”

“Not even close.”

“Why do I get the feeling you were wishing I’d be bald and covered with scars from a virulent case of shingles?”

“You’re too young for shingles. Chicken pox would have suited me fine,” she said with a smirk. “I bet you’d be a scratcher.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you were always ready to scratch your itch the minute it started to bug you,” she replied, remembering his rep as a player from when she’d first started school with him in their junior year.

“As I recall, I was kept unscratched and uncomfortable for a pretty long stretch there before graduation.”

She ignored the implication. “What would you know about graduation?” He hadn’t shown up there, either.

“Touché. By the way, it’s nice to see you, too,” he said, his grin widening, fully aware she was angry about finding him every bit as sexy as she’d hoped, as hot as she’d prayed he wouldn’t be.

“Nice isn’t exactly the word I’d use.”

Ignoring her, he took a long second of his own to look her over, from top to bottom, and Lauren sent up a mental curse against the person who’d designed airplane seats to be tiny and clothes-rumpling, and their processed air to be hair-flattening and makeup-melting. Of course it hadn’t helped that a harried mommy and her way-too-big-to-be-a-lap-baby demon spawn had been seated beside her. The kid kept throwing tantrums and lollipops, one of which had landed in Lauren’s hair, which now probably had a sticky streak of red mixed in with the golden brown. And the little brute had been a kicker, so she had a bruise on the side of her arm.

Worst. Day. Ever.

Okay. Nix that.

Second. Worst. Day. Ever.

He stared at her, as if he couldn’t look enough, and Lauren found herself shifting from foot to foot, like a nervous kid being inspected by the school principal.

Good grief, she so needed to get away from this reunion. She was degenerating back to high school mode, even in her thoughts! It didn’t help that she suddenly remembered the secret Senior Class Superlatives that had made their way around campus, outside of the safe, sanctioned ones in the yearbook. Seth had been voted “Most Likely to Score with the Prom Queen.” She’d forgotten all about it until right now…when she was face-to-throat with the potent male who was supposed to have been her first lover.

It was one more thing to be mad at him for. Because of Seth, she’d lost her virginity to a guy she didn’t even like much. Being abandoned by her first love had made her anxious to prove herself worthy of sexual desire, so she’d gone to bed with the first guy she’d dated in college.

He’d thought her clitoris was inside her belly button.

“What are you doing here, Seth?” she finally asked.

“Last time I checked, I was part of the class of ‘02.”

“You didn’t show up at graduation,” she reminded him again.

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t get a diploma.”

Well, that was news to her.

“I got them to mail it to me,” he continued. “I had the grades, even without being there to take my finals.”

He’d definitely been smart enough, which had been part of his appeal. Handsome, athletic, sexy and supersmart. Could any girl have resisted him? Certainly none back in high school. He could have had anyone he wanted…but he’d sworn he only wanted her.

They had gone to an exclusive, pricey private school in Chicago. She’d been a scholarship commuter kid from a blue-collar neighborhood who took a city bus to and from classes every day. He’d been a golden boy, a blue blood, living in the Ivy League–priced dorms, occasionally mentioning a family estate outside the city, but mostly not talking about his parents, with whom he didn’t get along.

She and Seth had been as different as chocolate and sauerkraut…yet those ten months they’d been together, she’d believed there was nobody else on the planet as right for her.

Stupid teenager.

“Did they mail your diploma to the dark side of the moon?” she asked with a sweet smile. “I mean, I assumed you were kidnapped by aliens, the way you disappeared.”

“You can’t know how badly I feel about that.”

“Save it.”

“It killed me not to be able to take you to prom.”

“Yeah, well, believe me, if you’d been close and I’d had a weapon that night, I would have happily taken care of that killing thing for you.”

“Lauren…”

“Then, on Monday, when I found out you’d withdrawn from school, I stopped hating you long enough to be really worried,” she admitted, though she chided herself for the note of concern she still heard in her voice.

But she had been concerned. Concerned enough to forgive him, enough to think something truly awful must have happened. Enough to decide to be there for him during whatever calamity must have befallen him. She’d waited for him to reach out to her to explain. And she’d waited.

Finally, she’d called—number disconnected.

She’d written—letter returned to sender.

Only the fact that his younger sister, a middle schooler, had also withdrawn the same day convinced her Seth hadn’t been murdered. That, and his second call. He’d phoned her house that autumn, saying he was okay, and he was sorry.

Lauren had already been living in Georgia with her aunt, having just started her freshman year of college, and her parents had refused to give Seth her number. When her mom called to give her the message, Lauren had only cried for about ten minutes before going back to her regularly scheduled plan of get-over-Seth-and-move-on. End of contact. Until today.

“Lauren, I…”

“Hey, look guys, it’s Seth and Lauren! The king and queen of the prom are finally together!”

“Oh, fuck my life,” she muttered under her breath.

Seth’s quick, short bark of laughter told her she hadn’t been quiet enough.

Never had Lauren so wished for a time machine—she’d get in it and go back ten minutes, to the moment when she’d pulled up her rental car in front of this overly lavish place. Instead of parking, she’d have kept on driving. Canada was nice this time of year. Or Mexico. The Sahara. Anywhere else.

Though, honestly, if she had a time machine, she’d be better off going back to warn her young, vulnerable self to never say yes to Seth Crowder in the first place. She could even take an extra minute during the trip to offer herself a stock tip: Starbucks, yes. Borders, no. Oh, and since you’re single, cruise on up to Harvard and introduce yourself to this dude named Mark Zuckerberg. He’s single right now, too. He’s a bit of an egghead, but he’s got an idea for this thing called Facebook…

“Pose for a picture guys—the one you never got on prom night!”

“Fat chance,” she snapped, turning quickly. They could take a picture of her butt as she walked away. “Lauren, we need to talk,” Seth said.

“No, we don’t.”

“Please!” He held out a hand and put it on her arm.

She shivered slightly, affected in spite of herself. Seth was here, looking at her with desperate longing in his beautiful green eyes, touching her with those strong hands that had once given her as much pleasure as a girl could get with her hymen still intact. This man had been born understanding a woman’s anatomy—no belly button confusion for him. He and her clitoris had made friends on their third date. By the fifth they’d been drinking buddies.

But it didn’t matter.

“Let me go, Seth,” she told him.

“Can’t you give me a chance to explain?”

“Nope.”

“Come on, a half hour, that’s all I ask.”

Considering she was already standing here thinking about her panties and her girlie bits, and his habit of making them sing, five minutes was already too long.

“It’s not going to happen.”

“Why not?”

She answered the only way she could. Truthfully.

“Because I have spent the past ten years either crying over you or hating your guts. I’m over the crying, and I’m past the hating. Now all I feel for you is…nothing. And I intend to keep it that way.”

Then, ignoring the wide eyes of their audience, and the tiny gasp of what might have been dismay that he didn’t try to hide, she stalked through the lobby and back out the front door of this dubiously named resort.

“Celebrations,” hell. They ought to call it “Nightmares.”

WELL, THIS WAS GOING to be harder than he’d thought.

Seth hadn’t expected Lauren to welcome him with open arms, or to smile and melt against him the minute he looked her way. He had never imagined it would be easy to get her to give him another shot, if not romantically, at least in friendship. Not that friendship was what he really wanted from her. But reconnecting in any way was better than the decade of silence he’d just endured.

Still, he hadn’t expected the sweet, funny, sexy girl he’d known to tell him she hated him. That stung; he hadn’t even known Lauren was capable of that emotion. Then again, she didn’t look like the girl he’d known, either. The pretty, vivacious cheerleader had turned into a stunning woman. Her hair was still thick and golden-brown, with highlights that framed her face. Her eyes were still a stunning ice-blue. But the rest of her was all grown-up, intoxicating woman.

“I’d call that being let down hard,” said a commiserating voice.

Glancing over, he saw his kid sister, Emily, who had convinced him to come this weekend. Em worked for Celebrations, and she was the one who’d confirmed for him that Lauren would be attending. He hadn’t even bothered to let the organizers of the event know he was coming. He just came. Heck, he’d skipped out on prom and graduation, why not crash the reunion?

“Ya think?”

“You knew this wouldn’t be easy.”

“Nothing ever is,” he muttered. And it hadn’t been, for a long time. Not since the day of his senior prom, when his entire world had fallen apart.

“You’ve got the whole weekend. You’ll find a way to make her listen.”

“And if I don’t?”

Emily squeezed his arm. “Then she doesn’t deserve you.”

“Dude, you got served!” someone else said. The voice was familiar—as was the chortle.

“How’s it going, Boogie?” Seth replied with a weary sigh as the other man walked over. He wished he’d followed Lauren out the door. But there wasn’t much chance of avoiding the rest of his former classmates in his quest to finally make things right with Lauren, so he figured he might as well get the greetings over with. Besides, he had a few old friends to whom he owed apologies and explanations. Nobody as much as Lauren, but she hadn’t been the only one he’d disappointed with his disappearance all those years ago.

The other man—never a close friend—cast him a sheepish glance. “Hey, keep the Boogie on the down-low, man, my wife’s over there and she doesn’t know that was my nickname.”

Does she know you used to pick your nose and flick boogers on girls in our freshman biology class?

By their senior year, Billy “Boogie” Drake had liked to pretend he’d earned the name because of his mad dancing skills. Seriously, Boogie? Did we go to school in, like, 1978? Of course not. And anybody who’d known him since middle school knew the true origin of the unattractive nickname.

What the hell am I doing here? He could be home in L.A., hobnobbing with his clients, some of the wealthiest, most successful athletes in the country.

Then he thought about Lauren—the picture Emily had shown him of her standing alone on the stage at prom, with the crown on her head—and knew.

He was here to apologize, to explain. To gain forgiveness.

And maybe to see if there was any chance at all of something sparking between them again. Because, as crazy as it sounded, she was his Achilles’ heel. Sure, he’d dated plenty of women over the years, some seriously, but Lauren was the one he’d never completely gotten over.

He’d loved her at eighteen. Really loved her, even though, at the time, he probably hadn’t quite understood what a momentous thing that was. Now, at twenty-eight, having never loved anyone else, he got it. If only he could get her.

“Dude, I can’t believe Lauren Desantos didn’t spit in your face. I’ll never forget how she looked on prom night. Harsh!”

“I heard.”

“What the hell happened? You, like, dropped off the face of the earth! We thought you got busted or deported or something.”

Seth and his sister exchanged a glance, both undoubtedly thinking the same thing. Busted and deported—that wasn’t too far off the mark. But he didn’t owe those details to Boogie, he owed them to Lauren. And one way or another, he was going to get her to sit down and listen to them.

“Long story,” he said.

“Well, you should probably go see if they’ll take you as a walk-in,” Emily said, pushing him toward the front of the now-empty A–E line in which Lauren had been waiting. Then she whispered, “You’re both in the Homecoming Tower, your room’s about six doors down from hers, number 1424.”

Homecoming Tower? Was it next to the Old Gym Wing and the Principal’s Office Ballroom? Gag me.

“See you at the dinner tonight…or tomorrow at the carnival?” Boogie asked.

Seth lifted a brow. “Carnival?”

“It’s one of Celebrations’ specialties,” Emily explained. “We have a whole graduation carnival set up on the grounds.”

He wondered if it had been his sister’s suggestion. She’d been a Grease nut in middle school, with the school carnival at the end being her favorite scene. Personally, Seth had always wondered why the cute girl had to turn into a tramp to get the dude.

“There are rides, games,” she continued. “Everybody loves it.”

Thinking about it, he recalled there had been a carnival at their school many years ago. A fall one, complete with pumpkins, scarecrows and hayrides. He and Lauren had ridden the rides together, already the “power couple” of the senior class…a good seven months out from Seth’s family’s date with disaster.

He wondered if she remembered. More importantly, he wondered if she’d be there, or if she’d walked out the door, gotten into her car and left altogether.

He didn’t think she had. Lauren was furious at him, but she’d never been a coward. When she calmed down and let herself accept the fact that he was here, she’d probably come back ready to tell him off, having thought of a dozen zingers to fling at him.

He could hardly wait to hear them. Because at least it meant she’d be talking to him.

Keeping that thought in mind, he quickly registered, saying hello but not getting involved in any deep conversations. None of his few close friends from high school had checked in yet, which gave him time to go to his room and clean up for tonight’s dinner. Tomorrow would be a formal dance—prom for adults? God, at least there will be booze—but tonight was a more casual event in one of the private banquet rooms.

Not wanting to risk running into Lauren en route to the dinner, for fear she’d then skip it, he left his room a half hour before it was scheduled to start. He figured he’d kill some time in one of Celebrations many lounges—he’d seen a list of the themed places in his resort guide.

He’d taken a half-dozen long strides toward the elevator, his eyes on her closed door, when he saw that door begin to swing inward. Almost stumbling, he came to a sudden stop.

Praying it was a maid leaving after delivering some extra towels, he held his breath, spying a swish of pink fabric and a delicate bare foot.

Lauren. It had to be Lauren.

He was about to be busted as a freaking stalker.




2


“OH, SHIT,” SETH MUTTERED. It looked like it was game over. If she found out they were staying on the same floor in this massive place—which couldn’t possibly be an accident—not only would she not go to the dinner, she’d probably change rooms. Or leave the reunion altogether.

Not thinking about it, he leaped into a small alcove, trying to cram himself between a small decorative table and the wall. On the table stood a huge vase filled with plate-size flowers, peacock feathers and curly sticks of wood. As he tried to shove himself into the pretty pathetic hiding place, he accidentally set the vase in motion. Lunging, he grabbed the thing in both hands and yanked it toward his chest, hoping not only to steady it but to try to hide behind its fronds and branches.

This is ridiculous.

He was acting like…a high schooler. No, worse, a middle schooler, a stalker-y, wimpy kid being led around by his hormones, hoping to make a girl like him. Jesus, he was Seth Crowder, successful sports agent, named as one of L.A.’s most eligible bachelors in a West Coast magazine last year. Yet around Lauren Desantos, he’d become an absolute basket case. This reunion thing was taking all his rational brain cells and mashing them to bits. “I see you there, you moron.”

Gritting his teeth, he peered through the flowers and feathers, imagining the image he presented. Lauren was standing a few feet away, glaring at him, her arms curled protectively around an empty ice bucket. She wasn’t yet dressed for the evening. All she wore was a long robe—silky and pink against her skin.

He shoved away the want, want, want that filled his brain.

“Uh, hi.”

“Doing a little redecorating for the hotel?”

He pushed the vase back to the center of the table, then stepped out of the alcove. “I bumped into it and thought the vase was going to tip over.”

“So you leaped behind the table to steady it?”

Totally busted, he couldn’t prevent a self-deprecating grin from widening his mouth. “Would you believe I was trying to steal the flower arrangement? It would go so well with my color scheme.”

She snorted. “Not only are you the world’s worst decorator, you’re one step short of color blind. How did you get my room number?”

No point in denying it. “My sister.”

Her brow went up in surprise. “Emily’s here?”

Lauren had always liked his kid sister, and had been good to her. She’d taken the five-years-younger girl under her wing and treated her like her own sibling, as if knowing how badly Em needed an older female figure in her life. God knows their mother had never been a good one.

“Yeah, she works at this place.”

Lauren’s expression turned wistful for a moment. “I’d love to see her,” she admitted. Then, as if noticing how much that idea pleased him, she hurried to add, “To tell her to keep customers’ room numbers private!”

“Don’t be mad at her. You know she always loved us as a couple back then.”

She rolled her eyes. “Thirteen-year-olds love Edward and Bella as a couple, too.”

“I’m not a vampire.”

She hesitated, as if ready to argue that point. She had, after all, already called him a dog and a moron. What was a little you disgusting bloodsucker between old friends?

“Well, you sure don’t glitter” was all she finally said.

“And you’re not a vapid klutz.”

One brow arched up. “Do a lot of vampire-romance reading these days?”

He shrugged. “What can I say? Channel surfing on late-night cable.”

“Huh. I’d have figured you more for the porn type when you’re doing your late-night channel surfing.”

Zing.

He cleared his throat. Not to mention clearing his mind of the images her words elicited. Porn and sex weren’t something he should be thinking about while Lauren was around, not if he wanted to retain his sanity and his edge, both of which were pretty shaky right now. Damn, but the woman could cut the legs right out from under him…and make him laugh while doing it.

“Back to Emily,” he insisted. “She loved you. She always wanted you to be her sister-in-law.”

Another unladylike snort preceded her response. “Oh, and I suppose you’re here to propose to me now?”

If I did, would you say yes?

No, of course she wouldn’t. Nor was he here to ask that question. Getting her forgiveness and understanding was the first step, maybe dinner and drinks after that. He’d be lucky to get her to voluntarily touch him. Marriage seemed like a distant dream.

Funny, it had been what he’d dreamed about all those years ago when he’d been so suddenly separated from her. Would she believe that? Probably not.

He stepped closer, unable to resist leaning in to breathe some of that Lauren air. She wore a different perfume than she had in the old days. No longer innocent and flowery, it was heady, womanly, evocative.

Or maybe that was just her. She was incredibly womanly, amazingly sexy, from the top of her shining gold-brown hair down to the tips of her red-tipped toenails peeping out from beneath the robe. And, of course, everywhere in between.

The in-between was especially distracting. Beneath that pink silk was nothing but luscious female. Even with the ice bucket in front of her, he could see the way the V-neckline of the robe revealed some amazing cleavage. Lauren had been more slender as a teenager. Now she was all curves, all inviting and sultry, with full breasts, a small waist and hips that were meant to be clutched in a man’s hands. All that, wrapped up in a pink package he wanted to open like a Christmas present.

“Stop staring at me,” she said, her voice weak, breathless. As if even she wasn’t sure she meant it.

“I can’t help it,” he admitted. “You’re beautiful.”

Unable to stop himself, he moved closer, until his shoes nearly touched her toes. The robe flitted against his pants and he caught a glimpse of pale, soft leg.

Groaning low in his throat, he lifted a hand and slid it onto her hip. Memories flooded him, thoughts of how he’d like to encircle her waist in his hands and pull her close now. He’d brush his fingertips along the top curves of her bottom, teasing her lightly, knowing the caresses drove her mad. He would hold her like this, and pull her hard against him to kiss her until neither of them could even think.

She looked up at him, her blue eyes sparkling, and time fell away. Electricity sparked between them and for a half a second, Seth thought she might not punch him if he kissed her.

He leaned closer, needing to taste her. Needing to revisit that place where need and desire and emotion twirled into a quiet storm that both excited and fulfilled.

Their mouths met, a soft brush of lips, a quick tumble into memory, a time when they knew, without a doubt, they were meant to be together.

She tasted like heaven. Like sweetness. Like coming home.

And then she pushed her ice bucket hard against his chest and shoved him back. “That was way out of line.”

His hand dropped to his side. His fingers were tingling and hot, already missing the connection, and his mouth ached with the need to taste her more fully, to lick her tongue and plunge his deep, claiming her again.

“Sorry,” he said, not really meaning it.

“Just go away, would you?”

He would…except for the fact that his hand and her bucket-fumbling had done some damage to her robe and the thing was now practically gaping open. It was all he could do not to start drooling on the spot as the fabric played peekaboo with one perfect nipple, dark and puckered against the silk.

“And leave you like this?” Aroused? Unsatisfied?

“You’re acting like I’m half naked.”

Fortunately for him, she was half naked. He could stand here looking at her all day…or until she moved the bucket again.

Unfortunately, she was half naked in a public hallway. Where anyone else—any other dude—could walk up and see her. They were within eyeshot of the elevators. The doors could slide open at any moment exposing her to the leering eyes of a dozen ex-football players, drunk and horny, wanting to relive their high school carousing.

His inner caveman rising up as he imagined it, he frowned and took her arm. “Let’s go into your room and talk in private.”

“We have nothing to talk about, and I need some ice,” she insisted. Yanking away, she turned toward the vending area, which was right across the hall from the alcove where he’d hidden. At least she hadn’t been planning to hike down a long corridor in such skimpy attire.

But that yank and the quick turn made her robe flare even more, from the waist down. It was quick, just a second, then it settled back into place. Even a second was long enough to confirm what he’d suspected: she wasn’t wearing one damn thing else. Hunger flooded his mouth and blood roared through his veins, settling right in his groin. His head spinning, his mind tried to re-create the gorgeous, perfect image that had flashed before his eyes.

He was doing an excellent job of it, if he did say so himself. He’d always been a pretty visual guy.

But when he heard a door close from down the hall, Seth reacted quickly. He’d be damned if any other man would get such a gift. Not if he could help it.

He snatched the ice bucket from her hands. “I’ll get the stupid ice. Get in your room before some horny creep sees you like this.”

“Too late,” she said with a sneer.

Oy. Why the hell was he doing this? It would be less difficult to climb Everest than to think Lauren was going to forgive him. And less painful to gnaw his own foot off to get out of a bear trap than endure her insults while he tried to get her to.

“Please, Lauren, get inside,” he insisted, gesturing down her body. “That robe might have felt demure when you put it on, but considering your nipples are hard and your legs are shaking, you look like you’re begging somebody to do you like you’ve never been done before.”

Gasping, she gripped the edges of the robe and crossed her arms over her chest. “That was…”

“True.”

“Damn you, Seth.”

“Damn me all you want. Behind closed doors.”

She hesitated for a moment, then slowly nodded and turned toward her door, which presented him with the back view—Good God, that ass is a work of art. Recently, his memories had been mostly about how much he’d cared about her, loved her, so he hadn’t really anticipated such intense heat. It churned in his gut, sucking his breath from his lungs, emptying his brain. He was aware of nothing except her smell and her softness. And how she looked. Oh, God, the way those long, milky-white thighs had looked, topped with a soft tuft of curls he was dying to explore, with his hands, his mouth, his cock. All of the above, once and then again and again.

Every masculine fiber of his being was ready to do it, from his tingling fingertips, to his breathless mouth, to his rock-hard dick, which was currently putting his zipper through one hell of a strength test.

He’d never been so confused by his own emotions. He was torn between anger, regret, excitement and sharp, pounding lust. All directed at or caused by her.

Get her alone. Say what you have to say. Then see what happens.

Maybe he’d fly back to L.A. filled with all those same crazy emotions and that same twisted sense of pain and pleasure he felt every minute he spent with her. Or maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe she was protesting so much because she still had feelings for him, too.

She might claim to hate him, but once they were alone inside that room, would the ice queen’s facade melt? God, he hoped so.

Hardly able to stand the few minutes more, he watched as she unlocked her door and stepped inside. Then she turned and looked at him. He should have known by her expression she was going to say something he didn’t like.

And she did.

“Funny. I’ve suddenly decided I prefer my water warm.” With a triumphant smile, she slammed the door in his face.

Well, so much for melting.

“You could give the Snow Miser a run for his money.”

He only hoped he wasn’t the one who’d frozen her heart into such solid rigidity. God, did he ever hope that.

Seth considered leaving the ice chest right outside her door. It would serve her right if she tripped over it when she left her room. Then he thought better of it, imagining her tripping over the thing, breaking a leg. While he felt aggravated that she was being so stubborn, not giving him a chance to make a proper apology, he didn’t want her hurt. Not by him. He’d been there, done that and never wanted to buy another Seth-broke-my-heart T-shirt.

So, filling the bucket with ice for her, and leaving it on the alcove table, he boarded the elevator. He headed for the Wild West saloon-themed bar and ordered a beer. Nursing it, he argued with himself about what he was doing, trying to persuade himself to give up, get a cab to the airport and get on the first plane back to L.A.

But he couldn’t. He’d come this far, and had been so close—close enough to touch her, smell her, share her warmth and hear the voice that haunted his dreams. No, he wasn’t leaving. Not without having his say.

By the time he’d finished his drink, he realized the dinner had already started. Feeling calmer, he headed for the banquet room, which he’d mapped out earlier. When he got there, he immediately scanned the room, spying her at the correctly numbered table…the one where he’d arranged to be seated, too.

Not only had she come, she’d put on her female armor, obviously preparing herself to face him tonight.

She looked absolutely beautiful, almost as perfect now as she had when flashing him from beneath that robe. Not that she hadn’t been practically perfect in his eyes when they’d bumped into each other this afternoon, of course. Nothing could hide the natural beauty of Lauren’s heart-shaped face, the jewel-blue hue of her eyes or the thickness of her golden-brown hair, now hanging around her shoulders in thick waves. But unlike earlier, when she’d appeared frazzled and weary, she was absolutely put together now, wearing tasteful makeup, not a hair out of place, dressed in a blue cocktail dress that clung to her perfectly.

He’d bet she was wearing heels. Lauren wasn’t short. In fact, she was of average height. But she’d always worn high-heeled shoes when she needed to build up her self-confidence.

He leaned his head to the side and swept his gaze downward, noting the long, shapely, bare legs. And her feet.

Four inches. At least. Spike-heeled power shoes that were supposed to make her feel tall and in control but just made her look sexy as hell.

He smiled as he wove his way toward her table. A few people recognized him and said hello, others merely raised curious brows, but he didn’t pause. No way was he giving Lauren a chance to spot him and leave. She couldn’t very well get up and march out the second he sat down, right?

He sat down. “Hello, everyone.”

She stood up. “Goodbye, everyone.”

Damn. She startled a laugh right out of him. But knowing better than to try to reason with her, he simply muttered, “Chicken.”

She glared. “I’m not a chicken.”

“What do you call running away?”

“Self-preservation.”

“You don’t have to protect yourself. I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“Why not? It’s what you do best.”

“Ouch,” somebody muttered.

They both looked around the table at the other half-dozen people, all of whom were watching them.

“Sit down, sweetie. Don’t let him spoil your night,” said the woman sitting on the other side of Lauren. Seth recognized her as Lauren’s best friend.

“Hello, Maggie. Nice to see you.”

The pretty blonde grunted. “I thought you were in prison.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

“Oh, you’re good at disappointing people.”

Another ouch. Lauren had an army of defenders, it appeared.

“It’s all right, Maggie,” said Lauren, slowly sinking back onto her chair. “He doesn’t bother me.”

“Certainly not intentionally,” he insisted.

She rolled her eyes.

A guy Seth recognized from his senior English class offered him the first genuine smile he’d seen since he’d entered the room. “Nice to see you, Crowder.”

“You, too, Josh.”

“How’s life? Where are you living these days?”

“West Coast.”

Beside him, he saw Lauren yawn, as if she were completely uninterested. He didn’t believe that, though. Tension rolled off her. Ambivalence usually didn’t cause stiff shoulders, clenched fists and a defiantly uptilted chin.

“What do you do?” the other man asked.

“Actually, I’m a sports agent.”

“Get out,” the other man said, immediately intrigued as anyone with testosterone always was when they found out what he did for a living. If he mentioned the names of some of his clients, Josh would probably fall over.

Waving a hand to gloss over what was, if he did say so himself, a pretty cool job, he said, “I couldn’t make it into the pros myself. Next best thing, I guess.”

“We always thought you would,” Josh replied, earnest and loyal as always. He smiled cautiously, casting an apologetic look at Lauren before adding, “I sometimes wondered if that’s where you went—if you got drafted into the bigs and they wanted you in training right away.”

“If only,” Seth said. Then, aware he had Lauren’s full attention—and also aware this might be the only time he had that attention, since she would be looking out for him now, knowing he’d manipulated himself into the seat beside her—he went ahead and came out with the truth.

“Nothing nearly as great as the NFL,” he explained. “The real story is…”

Lauren shifted in her seat, leaning perhaps a hairsbreadth closer, as if she wanted to hear in spite of herself.

And he wasn’t about to disappoint her with anything except the whole, utter truth.

“I disappeared because my crooked parents had to get out of the country fast, so they dragged me and my sister to somewhere without an extradition treaty.”

LAUREN HADN’T WANTED to listen to Seth. Well, she’d wanted to listen, she just hadn’t wanted to hear any of his excuses. It wasn’t that she was scared, despite what he might think about the way she’d been avoiding him. The truth was, she’d always assumed there were no excuses worth hearing.

But the one that had come out of Seth’s kissable mouth stopped her heart from beating for a few seconds. She couldn’t breathe, could barely remain sitting upright. Because of all the things she’d imagined—good and bad—this definitely wasn’t one of them.

“Holy shit, man, seriously?” asked Josh, taking the words right out of Lauren’s mouth.

Seth reached for his water glass and lifted it. Lauren noticed the way the water sloshed on the top, and realized Seth’s hand was shaking. He might be projecting a smooth, everything’s-all-right attitude, but deep down, Seth was a mess. This confession, made so baldly in front of all these people, had cost him dearly. There was only one reason she could think of for him to throw it out there so publicly: because she wouldn’t allow him to say it to her privately.

A hint of shame stabbed her. She cleared her throat. “You don’t have to do this.”

He shrugged. “Everybody’s whispering about it, anyway. Might as well let the truth mingle in with all the stories.”

“You’re not kidding, are you?” Maggie asked, the sneer gone, her pretty green eyes big and round.

“I wish I were.”

“How come we never heard about it?” Josh asked.

“I don’t think there was a lot of news coverage until later, when the feds caught up with them.”

One question answered. His parents were, apparently, no longer in hiding. Guess that nonextraditing country hadn’t been such a safe haven after all.

“By then, you’d all graduated and I was old news. I don’t think my name was ever in the papers, either.”

Even if it had been, Lauren wouldn’t have seen it. She’d left Chicago a few weeks after graduation, once she’d realized Seth really wasn’t coming back. And she’d never—despite being tempted on a few occasions—gone looking for news of him on the internet.

“How…what…wow, they dragged you out of the country?” asked Maggie.

“Yeah. I had gone home the night before and stayed there so I could borrow my Dad’s car to drive to the prom.”

Lauren nodded slowly, remembering. He’d talked about that—insisting he wanted to take her in style in his dad’s Porsche.

“I woke up that morning preparing to go pick up my tux and a corsage for Lauren. Then I came downstairs to find my father shoving cash in a briefcase and my mother scooping up the silver from the dining room. They told me there was an emergency, they were in danger and we were moving. Immediately.”

The conversation in the banquet room had quieted significantly, and Lauren realized everybody within earshot had shut up to hear the juicy details firsthand.

“I didn’t find out the truth until we were on a plane somewhere over Central America,” Seth continued. “Dear old Dad apparently went to the Bernie Madoff school of financial management, though on a much smaller scale. My mom helped him, and they knew they were about to be arrested.”

He said it easily, but she heard the heartbreak there, and honestly couldn’t imagine it. She had never met Seth’s parents, but she knew they had never come to a single school event. She had the feeling he and his sister were treated as out-of-sight, out-of-mind tax deductions. Still, she couldn’t imagine having the blinders torn off your eyes like that, finding out your wealthy, well-respected parents were wanted criminals.

As if he knew the question everybody wanted to ask, he continued. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I went. I was eighteen, and I could have thrown a fit and refused to go with them. But to be honest, I was kinda shell-shocked. Remember, I didn’t know the whole story at first—I was imagining a hit being put out on my dad by the mob or something. Not the FBI.”

Of course, what eighteen-year-old kid after being told by his parents that they were in danger wouldn’t think something dire like that? It was certainly more logical than the wanted-by-the-authorities explanation.

“Mainly, I was worried about Em, who wasn’t eighteen and had no choice. When she was a baby, my parents wouldn’t have remembered to feed her if it was the maid’s day off.”

He had always been close and protective of his sister, who had been in seventh grade at the time. At just twelve or thirteen, her whole world had been shaken apart, as Seth’s had been.

He had been speaking to everyone, but he suddenly turned his attention to Lauren. “I had time to make one phone call. I was told exactly what to say, and my father was standing there the whole time to make sure I didn’t say anything else. I’m so sorry I stood you up that night, Lauren.”

She didn’t respond. She’d spent so many years being angry at him. To say she was confused would be an understatement. She had more questions, of course, but wasn’t sure she had the right to ask them. He was, after all, telling this story to everyone, not just to her. If he wanted anybody to know more, he’d say it.

He didn’t, falling silent while buzzing conversations resumed at their own table and at those near enough to have overheard. This would be the talk of the reunion.

“Seth, I don’t know what to say,” she finally replied.

More than that, she didn’t know what to feel. She’d spent so many years resenting him for breaking her heart, imagining a million things, but nothing close to the truth. Now, though, she wasn’t sure what to call the emotions racing through her, making her stomach churn, her fists clench, her eyes sting.

Indignation, of course—on his behalf, and his sister’s.

Anger at his parents. A huge amount of curiosity about what else had happened. How had Seth ended up back in the U.S.? And when?

Yeah. Lots of questions. But none she wanted to ask in front of any of these people. She wasn’t sure he’d want to answer them, even in private, but she had to at least try. So, taking a deep breath and telling herself she owed him the chance to clear the air, and owed herself the chance to learn the truth and forgive him, she pushed back from the table.

Rising to her feet, she glanced at Seth, seeing the flash of disappointment on his face and hearing his sigh. Did he think she was leaving? Walking out without a word? Was he so used to rejection and revulsion when other people heard about his family that he automatically expected it?

Her heart—frozen and hardened against him such a long time ago—thawed the tiniest bit. They weren’t kids anymore, and far too much time had gone by for anything to happen between them. Not to mention the geography issue. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t give Seth the atonement he seemed to need.

“Come on,” she told him, seeing the way his head jerked in surprise. “Let’s get out of here and go talk.”




3


SHE DIDN’T HAVE TO ASK him twice. Seth wasn’t about to stick around with these wide-eyed people who were dying to put their heads together in titillation over his confession: that the golden-boy king of the prom was the son of a couple of crooks. He’d come here for one reason—Lauren. Her finally agreeing to talk to him made the trip from California worthwhile.

He got up, nodded to the others at the table and took Lauren’s arm. She fell into step beside him, their strides matching, as if she was just as eager to escape as he was. Her long leg brushed against his trousers and her bare shoulder was inches from his own, their hands touching as they both reached for the door handle.

The excitement was catching; it was as if they’d both realized they were going to share a moment ten years in the making. Finally, they could clear the air, answer the questions, ask for and offer forgiveness.

His heart was pounding. Seth had never been more aware of a woman, never so desperate to breathe deeper to catch her scent, to touch her to make sure she was real and here, ready to give him a chance to explain. Everything about her called to a nearly forgotten part of him, that deep, secret place where he’d once been young and crazy in love.

Not to mention in lust.

He’d wanted Lauren desperately the entire time they’d dated, but he’d been the “good” boyfriend and made do with heavy petting and deep, hungry make-out sessions that usually left him blue-balled and needing to visit his own hand. Knowing they were supposed to consummate their relationship on prom night had been like racing for the end of the rainbow to get the pot of gold.

Instead, he’d spent that night running away from everything he knew with his cold, selfish parents, already mourning what he had lost…and what he’d never had.

He hadn’t come here to have sex with Lauren. But he wasn’t a liar. If the opportunity presented itself, he’d take it and never look back. Because he thought it might kill him if he lived his entire life without ever knowing what it would be like to make love to her.

He was about to ask where she wanted to go when she said, “I need a drink. Let’s find the nearest bar.”

“Good plan,” he said with a nod.

He didn’t steer her toward the saloon, which had been heating up with a raucous crowd when he’d left a short time ago. Nor was he interested in the ‘50s Sock Hop Hall, the ‘70s Disco, or the ‘80s Techno Club. The piano bar sounded like the best place for them to sit in a shadowy corner undisturbed.

Fortunately, most of the reunions being held at Celebrations this weekend had similar opening dinners tonight. So while the banquet rooms were filled to the brim, the small piano lounge was almost completely empty.

She spied the same back corner table he did, and strode toward it. A waitress met them there and Lauren said, “Vodka martini. Dirty. And make it a double.”

Hiding his smile, Seth murmured, “I’ll have the same.”

He sat across from her, letting his eyes adjust to the low lighting, liking the way the amber table light cast shadows on her gold-streaked hair. It wasn’t quite as long as it had been in high school, but was still thick and beautiful. He remembered burying his hands in it when they kissed. Many times.

“So. Dragged to a foreign country by your fleeing-the-law parents,” she finally said, holding his steady gaze. “I guess that qualifies as a decent excuse for not coming to prom.”

A tiny smile tugged at his mouth. “Have I mentioned our flight was so turbulent, I got sick in my mom’s purse?”

“On the silver?”

“They wouldn’t let her carry it on. But I ruined her designer wallet.”

“Was it really airsickness?” she asked, seeing through the humor and getting right to the point.

He shook his head. “No. It wasn’t.”

He’d been physically ill all right…sick about what his parents had done, that he’d let them drag him along, about what would happen to Emily. The minute he’d found out the truth, he’d started to argue, demanding to be returned home. His pleas had fallen on deaf ears. And when he truly accepted the fact that his father—who he’d assumed was inattentive because he was busy making millions of dollars for other people—had been stealing those dollars, he’d literally thrown up.

He had to be honest with himself. If he’d been able to call Lauren sooner, he might not have done it. He’d been pretty ashamed for the first few months of his unwanted exile.

As if she knew that, she reached across the table and gently squeezed his hand. It was meant to be comforting, quick, friendly. But Seth found himself gripping her fingers, holding tight. He was flooded with memories of innocent days when holding Lauren’s hand had felt like the most momentous part of his day.

Her fingers were still soft, fragile, slender. He wanted them touching him, twining in his hair, pulling him close for a warm, sultry kiss.

Their stares met and locked for a long second. Then, knowing they still had talking to do, he released her.

The silence continued as the waitress returned with their drinks. Lauren took a sip of hers, then lowered the glass back onto the table and ran the tip of her finger across its wet rim.

“So then what happened?” she finally asked.

He didn’t really want to get into the whole story, but he’d promised her—and himself—that he wouldn’t hold anything back if she gave him the chance to speak. So he told her, trying not to dwell on the dark details or let his voice reveal the still-tangled emotions he carried with him and probably always would.

When he was finished, she peppered him with questions. “Did you even know which country you were in?”

“Not at first.”

“And you didn’t have any money?”

“Not a cent. Or my passport. They took it.”

“There was no phone, no computer at the house they rented?”

“No computer. They had a satellite phone they kept under lock and key in a safe in their bedroom.” Knowing the other questions she had to be wondering about, he added, “The servants all spoke Spanish, and I didn’t. Plus the estate they rented was in the middle of nowhere. The times we went into the nearest town, my parents never let us out of their sight. Em and I pretty much just had each other.”

She bit her lip and blinked quickly, as if trying to hide any telltale moisture in her eyes. “How did you get away?” she asked, her voice soft, a whisper.

“I cracked the safe,” he admitted, smiling at the memory.

“Seriously?”

“It was pretty old. I worked on it for months. Finally, I opened it, got a hold of the phone and called my grandfather in California.”

“Did he come for you?”

“He waited long enough to get a visa, then hopped on a plane to South America,” he replied, wondering if she could hear the relief and gratitude he still felt, all these years later. His grandfather had been the best man he’d ever known, had been everything Seth’s own father wasn’t. Honest, loving, honorable, he’d been a straight-arrow high school football coach who’d never understood the woman his daughter had become when she’d married Seth’s rich father. Seth had known his Gramps would know what to do. And he had.

“How…”

“I was able to tell him the country and the name of the nearest town. He showed up a week after my call for help. He told my parents he’d already called the FBI and turned them in. Demanding our passports, he packed up me and Em and flew us back stateside.”

“When was that?”

“October ‘02. Almost five months after we left Chicago. He took us back to live with him in L.A.” Seth reached for his own drink, sipping and letting the icy liquid cool off the heat of the memories. “That was the week I called you at your parents’ house.” Not sure what answer he wanted, he asked, “I guess you didn’t get the message?”

“I got it.”

Oh. She’d chosen not to call him back. A part of him had been hoping she’d say her parents had never told her he’d been trying to find her. “I understand. I guess you’d moved on and didn’t want to hear any excuses.”

“True, though I probably would have listened to them at that point. I didn’t get quite as hard and angry until a few years had gone by without any further word.”

Unable to help it, he asked, “So why didn’t you call me back?”

Her eyes widened in shock. “Call you…What do you mean?”

“I gave your father my number and asked him to have you call me in California. I even offered to fly to Chicago to explain and to apologize to you and your family in person.”

She lifted a hand to her face, rubbing her eyes, sighing audibly. “I didn’t get that part of the message.” Shaking her head, she said, “My mother was the one who told me you’d called to apologize, but nothing else. I guess my father only told her what he wanted either of us to hear, because I know she wouldn’t have kept that from me.”

Seth wasn’t sure whether he felt better, or worse. Part of him was relieved she hadn’t chosen to ignore him for the past decade. Another part hated that she’d been manipulated by her own father, as he had by his. Of course, hers had almost certainly been doing it for her own good. His…not so much.

“That’s a lot of lost years due to other people’s interference,” he mumbled, talking as much to himself as to her.

“Maybe we needed them in order to grow up.”

“Maybe.” Then, getting to the point that had brought him here, he added, “So do you think you can forgive me for running out on you without a word?”

Lauren stared at him across the table. Her eyes were decidedly glassy now, and she was nibbling her bottom lip. The hand that continued to toy with the rim of her glass shook.

But her words were steady. Absolutely certain.

“I can. And I do, Seth. You’re forgiven.”

He nodded slowly and replied, “Thank you.”

LAUREN HADN’T TOTALLY understood how much her acceptance of Seth’s apology meant to him until she saw the way he sagged back in his chair in relief. He looked like a criminal who’d been forgiven by his victim.

In truth, he’d been the victim…of unscrupulous parents, of time, of distance, of her resentment and her father’s over-protectiveness. She wanted to cry for him, and for Emily. They hadn’t even talked about what had happened later. Were his parents in prison? Still on the run? How had he ended up working as a sports agent and how had Emily ended up back here in Illinois?

There were a lot of questions still to be answered. But right now, she didn’t want to ask them. She just wanted to sit here, enjoying the soft music and his company, letting herself believe, for the first time in ten years, that he really had, at one time, cared about her. She wasn’t going to call it love—eighteen-year-old guys didn’t really understand that concept as far as she was concerned. But he’d cared. And that mattered to her. A lot.

“So how’s your life been?” he finally asked with a wry chuckle, breaking the silence.

She laughed with him. “Not bad. I live in Georgia now.”

His jaw dropped. “Seriously? I can’t picture you as a slow-talking, languid Southern belle.”

A hint of an accent had crept into his remark, and she responded in kind. “Why, suh, you wound me. Ah’m a genteel Georgia peach.”

His laughter turned into a snort. “You might have a Georgia zip code, but your blood’s all Chicago speed and energy.”

Maybe. Probably. She definitely wasn’t happy with her job, and hadn’t been since her much-loved boss, Mimi, had left the grocery store chain her family owned. Frankly, laying out ads for canned green beans and dog food hadn’t been what she’d had in mind when she’d gotten her marketing degree.

Seth’s open smile and easy charm made him so easy to talk to that she found herself telling him all about it. He soon had her spilling her guts about her life, everywhere she’d been in the past ten years, every address, job…and relationship.

Those hadn’t been hard to talk about—they’d been few and far between. But the conversation had opened the door, and since turnabout was fair play, she eventually asked, “What about you? No Mrs. Crowder back in L.A., I take it?”

He almost choked on his drink. Setting it down, he leaned over the table and said, “You really think I’d have tracked you down and tried so desperately to make things right with you if I had a wife?”

Not wanting to read too much into his words, which made it sound as though he’d come here for more than an apology, she kept her tone light. “It’s possible. Maybe you’re doing some kind of twelve-step program and making amends is part of it.”

He gestured toward his empty martini glass. “If so, I’m doing a pretty shitty job with the rest of the program.”

“True.”

“I came here because I wanted the chance to explain, to make sure you understood. I’ve been angry at my parents for a lot of reasons for a lot of years.”

“I don’t blame you.”

He went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “But close to the top of the list is that they cost me you.” His jaw clenched and his hand tightened on his glass. His voice low, he added, “They cost me the night we were supposed to share after the prom.”

Lauren’s heart skipped a beat. She’d been letting down her guard, enjoying being with him, remembering how wonderful Seth had been to talk to. She’d almost forgotten the sexual tension that swam between them when they were together. Now she was reminded of it. His lips parted as he breathed across them, his eyes narrowed as he swept a thorough stare over her hair, her face, her throat, her chest. Oh, yeah, there was lots of tension.

He looked away. “Sorry.”

He wanted her. Still. There was no denying it. Maybe he had come here for forgiveness, but he’d also come here because of the sex they’d never had.

Was there anything men wanted more than the one who got away? She didn’t think so. Funny, though, she wasn’t offended by it. In fact, she had to take a moment to pull her thoughts back in order, and decide what she was feeling. She’d been telling herself, ever since she’d heard his voice at the registration desk, that Seth being here was a bad thing. Feeling the electricity zapping between them during that oh-so-brief kiss when she’d caught him outside her room had reinforced that idea.

Now, though, she couldn’t decide if things had gotten better or worse. She had forgiven him, she did understand and she was still incredibly attracted to him. As he, apparently, was to her.

Could she have him, though? They barely knew each other anymore, with a decade’s worth of resentment and misery between them. They lived on opposite sides of the country for heaven’s sake!

Still, he wasn’t talking about a relationship, about love. He was talking about sex. About attraction, curiosity, regret and the need to finally have something they’d both been denied.

She wouldn’t have trusted declarations of love, not after all this time. But sexual desire? That she could trust. That she could rely on. That she could even indulge.

“It meant that much to you?”

“Are you serious?”

She nodded slowly.

Seth leaned closer over the table, until the tips of his fingers brushed hers, and she could feel the warmth of his exhalations against her cheek.

“It meant everything to me, Lauren.”

She had to shift in her seat, her entire body going on alert at the tone in his voice. He was so sure, so certain, so unmistakable about his desire for her.

“I’d had sex before, you knew that.”

Yes, she’d known. And she honestly had wondered why he was being patient, waiting for her, the innocent virgin.

“But it was like I was starting over again with you. Getting the chance to do it the right way, for the right reasons, with the right person.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. I ended up with the wrong person because I was so angry at you.”

He swiped a frustrated hand through his thick hair. “One more thing to add to my list of crimes.”

She reached out and grabbed his other hand, not wanting him to take on that burden of guilt, as well. “It’s okay. Women survive bad sex.”

“So do guys.”

“Had your fair share, huh?”

He nodded. “I never got past the wondering. I compared every woman I got involved with to the possibility of what it would have been like with you.”

She understood. Because she’d done the same thing for ten long years.

Suddenly she realized those years didn’t matter. What had happened in the past didn’t matter. What would happen tomorrow didn’t matter.

There was only tonight. They had it. They deserved it.

And she wanted it.

“I think it’s time we found out, don’t you?” she asked, hearing the invitation in her own lowered, sultry voice. “What are you—”

She cut him off, knowing what she wanted and not wanting to dance around it anymore. “I’m saying, Seth, that I want the night we never had. Now.”

He didn’t respond, didn’t accept her invitation—or, probably more accurately, her challenge. Because whether she’d meant it that way or not, her tone had dared him to take her up on her offer.

She held her breath, waiting to see if he would. Then, without saying anything, he pushed his chair back, threw a wad of cash on the table and took her arm.

Guess that’s a yes.

“I would say your room or mine, but frankly, I’m not sure I’m even going to make it past the elevator,” he admitted.

Her legs shook and every feminine part of her softened with need at the sound of desperation in his voice. Because it was matched by her own. “The first private spot will be fine.”

As luck would have it, however, there was no private spot between them and the elevator. In fact, to Lauren’s extreme consternation, as soon as they left the lounge, they ran into several people from their class, who had left the dinner and were now heading out to sample the various entertainments Celebrations had to offer.

Everyone begged her and Seth to join them, but Lauren had a much different celebration in mind. The reunion she was looking forward to would happen in a bed—his or hers, it didn’t matter which—and would involve sultry pleasure and a long night filled with passion.

Or so she hoped.

God, what if it’s no good? What if he’s no good?

Scratch that. He’d be good. She had no doubt of it.

But what if he thought she was no good?

Suddenly feeling doubts, she let her feet drag as their former class president, Roseanne something, who had also been one of Seth’s old flames, stepped right into their path. The woman hadn’t changed much—still rich, still beautiful, apparently still a raging bitch.

“Oh, come on, Seth, you have to come with us. You owe me a dance. After all, we never got to finish dancing at the spring formal in our junior year, remember?” She cast Lauren a catty look. “We left early.”

“I remember you leaving early,” Lauren said, meowing back as good as she got. “Weren’t you the one who got so drunk, you passed out and didn’t even realize a freshman drove you home?”

Beside her, Seth chuckled and whispered, “That was Sixteen Candles.”

“Shut up,” she hissed back, enjoying watching Roseanne sputter.

“That’s not funny!”

“Sure it is,” Lauren replied. “Come on, Roseanne, you were totally wasted. And Seth wasn’t even your date that year. He went with, hmm, who was it?”

“Sharon Stillwater,” he said, unabashed, obviously enjoying himself.

“You were such a dog,” Lauren couldn’t help replying.

“Only until you finally gave me the time of day.”

His smile tender, he slipped an arm around her waist, visibly saying to everyone else what hadn’t yet been put into words: the prom king had finally claimed his queen. At least for tonight.

Even Roseanne shut her mouth as Seth led Lauren toward their tower, heading for the elevators. Lauren imagined there would be a lot of gossip flying around this place tonight. Tomorrow’s carnival and formal dance would probably turn into interrogation sessions, and her friend Maggie would probably be lead inquisitor.

But she’d worry about that tomorrow. Tonight, she didn’t have a care in the world. She was going to live, to take what she had wanted for such a long time, and enjoy the hell out of it.

As they waited for the elevators, Seth murmured, “I really was a bit of a player, wasn’t I?”

“Not really. Just a typical high school superstar.”

“Why’d you ever agree to go out with me?” he asked, looking truly curious. “I must have asked you a dozen times before you finally said yes in our senior year.”

She didn’t have to think about it. The memory was emblazoned in her mind. “I saw you with Em, comforting her.”

He raised a curious brow.

“It was about a week after 9/11, when classes started again.”

He swallowed visibly, the way everyone probably did when thinking about those awful days.

“I was walking to the bus stop, and passed you sitting on a bench, holding her hands. She looked like she’d been crying, and you were reassuring her that she would be all right, that you wouldn’t let anything happen to her.”

He nodded. “She had bad dreams for weeks. My parents were in New York when it happened. It took them two days to think about their children, to call and tell us they weren’t dead.”

She remembered him telling her that, later. Remembered the quiver in his voice, the moisture in his eyes.

But not as well as she remembered that September afternoon, passing by them as they sat on the bench, witnessing Seth’s tender care of his sister. That was the moment she’d realized there was so much more to him than the rest of the world ever gave him credit for. It was also probably the moment she started to fall in love with him.

She turned toward him, rose on tiptoe and brushed her lips across his jaw. His sandpapery skin was rough against her mouth, but she loved the roughness, the raw masculine power of him and couldn’t wait to experience it on other parts of her body.

“I saw the real you that day,” she whispered. “I decided he was somebody I wanted to know better.”

And soon, she was going to know him as thoroughly and completely as a woman could ever know a man.

It was their long-promised night. At last.




4


SETH MANAGED TO KEEP his hands to himself, at least until they were inside the elevator. Alone. The minute the doors swished shut, however, all bets were off.

There was a camera above them. He didn’t give a damn.

“Come here,” he ordered, grabbing her waist and pulling her close.

Lauren didn’t resist. Melting against him, she lifted her arms around his neck. Their mouths came together in a fast, hard kiss, their tongues plunging in a frenzied mating that had been building for ten years.

She tasted like heaven. Like Lauren. Familiar and sweet and sultry and so impossibly good.

He’d kissed other women over the years, but none had felt as right, as perfectly made for him. He hadn’t imagined it. All the times he’d wondered if there really was such a thing as a soul mate, the one right person for everyone, he’d remembered how it had felt to kiss her. But he’d also wondered if his memories were lying to him.

They weren’t. She was perfect…for him, anyway.

He kissed her hard and deep, as if to remind them both of that, to drive thoughts of any other man out of her head for good, and to imprint her on his own, lest he ever have doubts again.

Lauren writhed against him, her soft body curving into all his angles, asking and answering all at the same time. They shared breaths and their heartbeats pounded in unison. The silence was broken only by their sighs, and by the ding of the elevator as it went up, up, up, taking them toward what he was sure must be heaven on earth.

But not fast enough. He needed more. Needed to taste her, touch her. “God, Lauren, I’ve wanted you forever,” he said as he moved his mouth to her neck.

She twined her fingers in his hair and held him tight, as if unwilling to let him go. “Ditto.”

Their mouths came together again, slower this time. He dropped his hands to her hips, pulling her more firmly against his groin, and heard her groan as she felt how hard and ready he was for her.

“Ahem.”

They’d been so lost in the kiss, they hadn’t even noticed that the elevator had stopped and someone had boarded it. Seth forced himself to let her go. Glancing over, he saw an older couple eyeing them speculatively. The man was grinning, the woman—mid-forties and very attractive—was studying the number panel on the side of the elevator. But Seth noticed the way a flush of color rose in her face, and how her companion slipped an arm around her waist, giving her bottom a familiar pat.

Once the other couple got off a few floors later, he heard Lauren begin to laugh.

“I think if we hadn’t been here, they’d have been the ones shocking the security camera guys. Something about this place makes everyone want to…celebrate.”

That was true. He’d seen cozy couples in the lounges, and sitting on plush couches in the lobby. The resort might have been made for group reunions, but it seemed to also invite gatherings of a more intimate sort.

“Maybe it’s because a reunion, by definition, brings you back to your younger years, when you were freer, more willing to take risks.” He nuzzled her neck. “And indulge in pleasures. Take what you most want.”

She gazed up at him, licking her reddened lips. “Makes sense to me.”

They at last arrived on their floor. Seth grabbed her hand and practically dragged her after him. Her room was closer, but he didn’t want to wait long enough for her to dig the key out of her purse. His was in his pocket, and then, a second later, in his hand.




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