Rich, Rugged...Royal. Cynthia Rutledge
Clarice looked askance for a second before she chuckled. “Of course there were men there. Chicago is full of men. What I was asking was if you’d met anyone interesting?”
“I danced with several different men.” Lauren skirted the question, her answer honest as far as it went. Most of the evening had been spent either talking or dancing with old college friends.
“Didn’t anyone in particular catch your eye?”
Lauren sipped the Guatemalan coffee blend and hoped the heat stealing its way up her neck didn’t give her away. One particular man had done a lot more than catch her eye.
“What’s his name?”
“Who?” Lauren took a bite of cheesecake, desperately wishing she’d left right after dinner.
“The man who is making you blush,” Clarice said. “I assume he was good-looking?”
Good-looking?
An image of Alex’s face flashed before Lauren. Good-looking would be an understatement. She’d always liked men with dark hair. And Alex’s hazel eyes held flecks of gold and green in their depths. At just over six feet, he was tall enough without being too tall, with a lean, muscular body and broad shoulders. In his arms, a woman could feel soft and feminine and utterly desirable.
“He was handsome,” Lauren said into the expectant silence. “But it doesn’t matter. I’ll never see him again.”
Having a one-night stand was one thing. Lauren wasn’t going to compound the error by pretending the interlude had been about anything more than sex.
Clarice made a tsk-tsking sound. “You always were such a pessimist.”
“Realist,” Lauren said.
“If your father and I taught you anything,” Clarice said. “It should be that where there’s a will, there’s a way.”
“He’s in Chicago, Mother,” Lauren said, wondering why she continued to take part in this awkward discussion. It wasn’t as if the cheesecake was that good. “Even if I wanted to get in touch with him, I wouldn’t have a clue how to do it.”
Clarice leaned forward. “Surely some of his friends were at the wedding?”
“He was an old college roommate of Tom Alvarez.” Lauren shrugged. “That’s all I know.”
It wasn’t, of course, all she knew, just all she was willing to share. Her mother didn’t need to know what Alex looked like naked or that he spoke French when he made love.
“Tom Alvarez.” Clarice’s brows drew together. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
Lauren sighed. Tom had lived in St. Louis for several years and Clarice had met him on more than one occasion. Apparently he hadn’t been high enough on the social ladder to warrant remembering. “He’s Christy Warner’s publicist.”
“Of course.” Clarice smiled. She certainly remembered the popular motivational speaker and her husband. “You should call Christy. Or David. I’m sure they’d help you track him down.”
“No way.” On this, Lauren would brook no argument.
Four years ago David Warner had been the man Lauren had planned to marry. Then, on a weekend trip to Las Vegas, he’d married his old high-school girlfriend on a whim. Lauren had long since forgiven them both and they were now all friends, but the last thing she wanted was for Christy or David to think she was so desperate she’d chase after a man who hadn’t cared enough to ask for her number.
No, she may have behaved foolishly this weekend, but she was no fool.
“What does this mystery man do for a living?” her mother asked.
Lauren took a bite of dessert, getting an odd sense of satisfaction from knowing she was about to burst her mother’s bubble. “He’s unemployed.”
The excitement in her mother’s eyes dimmed but a flicker of hope remained. “Independently wealthy?”
Alex had driven her to the airport in a late-eighties Buick. Lauren smiled wryly and shook her head.
“Deadbeats.” Clarice shook her head in disgust. “They’re everywhere. Well, I wouldn’t lose any sleep over the guy. He was probably married, anyway.”
“He’s not married,” Lauren said. She’d always believed marriage vows were sacred. That’s why she’d checked out his ring finger when he’d asked her to dance. And when he’d accompanied her up to her room, she’d asked him point blank.
“Don’t get in a huff.” Her mother took a sip of her coffee. “Most good-looking men are married. It’s a fact of life.”
“He’s not married.” Lauren’s self-control snapped. “I would never have been with him if he was.”
“Been with him?” Clarice stopped stirring the cream into her coffee and lifted a perfectly arched brow. “You were intimate with this man?”
Lauren’s cheeks burned under her mother’s suddenly curious gaze but she did her best to act nonchalant. “Goodness, no. We danced a couple of times. Had a few drinks and talked.”
Though Lauren had never been much of an actress, she must have been successful because disappointment skittered across her mother’s face. “That’s all?”
“What?” Lauren’s voice rose. “You think I should have slept with the guy?”
“I wouldn’t have faulted you if you had.” Her mother lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug. “I wanted you to have a nice weekend. If that included a little fling with a handsome man, I wouldn’t have a problem with it.”
If that included a little fling, I wouldn’t have a problem with it.
Lauren pressed her lips together and pulled into the driveway to her town house. She’d beaten herself up for behaving recklessly while her mother obviously saw nothing wrong with it.
Of course, that should have come as no surprise. Her mother had always been into living for the moment and doing what felt good. Though Lauren had always abhorred that philosophy, last weekend she’d embraced it with a passion that still made her blush.
And it had been surprisingly easy.
All it had taken was one look across a crowded ballroom….
Lauren’s lips lifted in a slight smile and she raised her glass in a mock salute. She’d noticed the man earlier on the dance floor. The first time, he’d been chatting with a perky blonde with an irritating laugh. The second with Joni Alvarez, who’d smiled a greeting at Lauren as she’d whirled past in his arms.
Lauren had been intrigued but didn’t think he’d even noticed her. Until her gaze had scanned the ballroom later in the evening and she’d found him staring. A shiver traveled up her spine as he handed his empty glass to a waiter and started across the room.
In a matter of seconds he was at her side.
“Care to dance?” His husky voice kicked her heart into high gear.
Lauren lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug and set her drink on a table. “Why not?”
The minute he took her hand and pulled her close she realized her mistake. Just being in his arms made Lauren’s blood run hot and her body ache with longing. And judging from the desire flickering in his eyes, he wasn’t immune to their close proximity, either.
They danced together for three songs, before Lauren made her excuses and said goodbye. The way she was feeling, staying any longer would be dangerous.
Lauren exited the Grand Ballroom, crossed the hotel lobby and headed for the elevators. She decided it had to be the wedding that had stirred up all these disturbing feelings of…well…lust.
Sara Michaels, one of her friends