Pipe Dreams(16)

No! Her brain tried to stomp out the brush fire that kiss had caused.  She stepped backward to break the spell. "I can't," she gasped.

That's when the door to the tavern swung open and Ari, the team massage  therapist, and Georgia, the publicist, stepped out of the bar. "Hi," Ari  said, her face becoming cautious, as if wondering if she was  interrupting something.

"Hi." Lauren took another healthy step away from Mike. "I was just  heading back to the hotel. Want to join me? The car should be . . ." She  looked around. "Right there, I think." An SUV was waiting for the light  at the other side of the intersection.

"Uh, sure?" Georgia gave her a funny little smile, as if surprised at the offer.

When the car stopped at the curb beside them, Mike opened the rear door  and made a show of greeting the driver and looking him over. "Take care  of these ladies," he said, and Lauren wanted to roll her eyes. As if she  didn't use Uber at least once a day, in cities all over the world.  Alone.

Ari slid into the car first, followed by Georgia.

Lauren avoided his gaze as she followed, but he squeezed her arm as she got into the car. "Take care of yourself."

"I will."

He closed the car door, giving her a wistful look as it clicked shut.

The car pulled away from the curb, and Lauren leaned back, feeling  shell-shocked. Mike Beacon just kissed me, she said to herself. Did that  really happen? "Jesus Christ," she breathed.

"I hope we didn't interrupt anything," Georgia said quietly.

"Nope," Lauren said quickly.

"Patrick told me just last week that you and Beak used to be a thing," Ari said.

"True story." Lauren sighed.

"What happened?"

Perhaps the answer to that question was more complicated than Lauren  used to think. "Depends who you ask. He broke up with me over the phone  the month we were shopping for apartments together."

"Ouch," Georgia said.

"The other side of the story is that his ex-wife was terminally ill. He  panicked and went back to her after a year and a half with me."

"Holy shit!" Ari yelped.

"I never saw it coming. So I had a rough couple of months." Try two  years. She still wasn't over him, damn it. "We haven't talked at all,  either. But he wants to be friends again, and I don't know if I can do  it."

Ari and Georgia were both staring at her with undisguised fascination.  Then again, this was more talking than she'd ever done to these two. "So  that's my life. How are yours?"

Georgia blinked. "And here I thought I was a little stressed out about  planning a charity benefit in only two days. Compared to your thing I  guess it isn't such a big deal."

"What benefit?" Ari asked.

Georgia made a face. "Nate had this bet with a friend from college. Some Florida billionaire."

"Alex Engels," Lauren volunteered. "She owns cable TV networks, real estate, and an NBA team."

"Right," Georgia agreed. "They had a bet going. Whoever's team didn't  make the play-offs had to donate a million dollars to the other guy's  charity of choice. The Bruisers made it but Alex's team didn't. So she's  throwing a black-tie cocktail party in forty-eight hours. Whatever she  raises she'll match on top of her own million. All the players have to  go, because this thing is being billed as a way to meet both a hockey  team and a basketball team in one night."

"Let me get this straight," Ari said. "Nate won a bet . . . so I need to put on a gown and heels? How is that fair?"

"You have two days to find one," Lauren put in. "And an entire team to  prepare for the next round of grueling competition. No sweat, right?"

Ari smiled. "You're funny, Lauren. How do we not know this?"

"Eh. Being around the team makes me cranky. I have to psych myself up  just to step into any building where Mike Beacon is. It's hard to be  funny when you're trying not to throw up."                       
       
           



       

"Huh," Georgia said slowly. "That's why you always tell Nate that you hate hockey."

Lauren smiled for the first time in hours and hours. "I say that just to  be a pain. He knows that hockey used to be my life, and that this team  was my family. My father was the GM until Nate fired him and promoted  Hugh. My boyfriend was the captain."

Ari snapped her fingers. "I'd forgotten that Beak was captain. Patrick  told me he only got the job because Beacon had some family emergencies. I  sure never heard the whole story, though."

This surprised Lauren a lot. "I guess it's nice to know that not everyone is a gossip."

"I've worked for the team almost since the minute Nate bought it and I  never heard about you and Beak," Georgia said. "Maybe the gossip wasn't  as bad as all that?"

"Maybe not now. But the hockey wives all knew Shelly because she'd been  their friend for years, and she was well liked. And when she and Mike  broke up they all blamed me, even though it wasn't like that. Later,  when he left me, they were filled with glee."

"Yikes," said Georgia softly.

"I moved to Manhattan in a big hurry then." The worst part about that  awful time wasn't the bitchy looks in the grocery store, though. It was  her own anger. She'd hated Mike for leaving. And she'd been angry at  Shelly for using an illness to claw back the man she'd cheated on.

That's how it had looked, anyway. And then, when Lauren figured out that  Shelly was actually dying, it only made her feel guilty. Horribly  guilty.

The car pulled up in front of the hotel, and both Georgia and Ari reached for their pocketbooks. "No-I've got it."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. It's just a few dollars and you two were practically my  therapists all the way here." She could hardly believe how much personal  stuff she'd just spewed at these two. They probably thought she was  twice as crazy now that they knew the real story.

"Well, I hope it gets a little easier," Ari said, holding the car door open.

"I'll be fine," Lauren said. She was used to handling things by herself.  "If you have any real issues with finding a dress, call me. Clothes are  my hobby. You and I are about the same size," she pointed out to Ari.  "You could borrow something."

Ari looked shocked at the suggestion, reminding Lauren just how  unfriendly she'd been up until now. Yay. Something else to feel guilty  about. "If I'm in a real bind, I just might take you up on that," Ari  said with a smile. "I have a tightly packed therapy schedule tomorrow. I  don't see how I could get near a store."

The three of them entered the hotel lobby. "I'll text you a couple of  pictures of dresses tomorrow when I'm at home," Lauren offered.

"Thank you. Seriously." Ari pushed the elevator button. "All my dresses  are either for work or they look like a club kid's wear. Because I used  to be a club kid."

"I'll set you up," Lauren promised as the elevator doors opened. It would be easy. Ari would look smashing in anything.

"I'm so relieved."

Lauren's was the first stop, on the fourth floor. "Good night, girls,"  she said as cheerfully as an emotionally exhausted person could manage.  "See you at the butt crack of dawn."

She heard laughter as the elevator doors closed again.





TEN


BROOKLYN, NEW YORK

APRIL 2016


The next morning at ten thirty, Mike keyed in the security code on the  door of his brownstone and walked inside. He tossed his duffel bag onto  the floor and kicked off his shoes. Then he listened.

Violins-two of them. Elsa and Hans were practicing. The piece was  something fun and fast, with one violin chasing the other one around the  melody. The effect was like two chattering squirrels zipping around a  tree.

He just stood there in the entryway to his own home for several minutes, listening until the piece broke down.

"You said to repeat!" Elsa said with a giggle.

"But not there!" Hans argued, his voice amused. "Go back to measure fifty-five. Let's finish this before I'm old."

The music started up again, and he walked slowly through the house. He'd  overpaid for this place, but it was gorgeous. The Wall Street couple  who'd sold it to him had done a modern renovation down to the studs.  They'd opened up the rooms to make a clean and bright space, with lots  of natural light. It was ridiculously contemporary, though, with every  surface painted either a shimmering white or an expensive shade of dove  gray. The light fixtures resembled space age bird's nests. Or something.  He couldn't quite decide what the hell they were supposed to be.