Pipe Dreams(23)

She shivered mightily. But then she sidestepped him. "I didn't think  you'd even remember," she said, giving him a cutting look. Then she  turned her back and marched away, toward the hotel lobby.

He stood there watching her go. Every ounce of her anger toward him was  deserved, but time was in short supply. He couldn't afford to just  shrink back and wait for Lauren to realize there was a reason they  couldn't stop watching each other from the opposite ends of a party.

Finishing his beer, he tried to think what to do. He was done with this  shindig, though. He'd put in his time. Setting down his empty drink, he  made his way past the pool where hotel guests were still splashing, even  in the dark.

When he spotted the check-in desk, he got an idea.





THIRTEEN



Storming into the ladies' room, Lauren didn't know whether to laugh or  scream. You summoned me, he'd said. And, damn it, she had, even though  it hadn't really been her intent.

She was truly amazed that he'd remembered the dress. Men weren't  supposed to remember these things. They were supposed to have hammock  sex and then forget about it by cocktail hour the following day. And if  Mike was the rare romantic who could never forget a big moment, then why  had he treated her so carelessly?

For someone who supposedly still loved her, he had a funny way of showing it.

Lauren was just standing there avoiding her reflection in the mirror  when she heard a groan. A glance revealed the hem of an adorable  fifties-style dress beneath one of the stalls. "Rebecca? Are you okay?"  she called.

"I don't know," came a wobbly voice.

"What's the matter?"

The next groan sounded more frustrated than ill. "I wasn't supposed to  drink. But I thought a single glass of champagne would be okay."

"And it isn't?" Lauren guessed.

"Not so much, no."

"Do you feel sick?"

The stall door opened slowly. "I thought I did, but my stomach is fine."  Becca wobbled out. "My head is all woozy, though. I need to go  upstairs."

"I'll go with you," Lauren said quickly.

Becca's eyes grew damp. "Don't tell Nate. He'll be pissed at me."

"Oh, screw him," Lauren said, reaching over to take Becca's hand. "He doesn't control us."

"But he's gone to so much trouble for me, and I'm such an idiot." She  reached up with a free hand to rub her temple. "The fancy new doctor  said not to drink. And I didn't listen."

"Lesson learned, then," Lauren said lightly. "Where are your shoes?"                       
       
           



       

"Oh, crap," Becca said, a little sob escaping her. "I left them under a bar stool."

Since this was such a nice hotel, there was an upholstered sofa near the door. "Sit here. I'll find your shoes."

"Really? I'm sorry. You're being so nice to me."

Ugh. That only proved she'd been a perfect bitch before. "It's fine.  Just don't go anywhere." She helped Rebecca to a seat and then slipped  out of the powder room.

Her return to the party was accomplished with stealth worthy of a James  Bond movie. She didn't want to catch Nate's eye, and she didn't want to  bump into Mike, either. But the shoes were quickly located when Nate's  back was turned, and Mike wasn't visible anywhere.

Twenty minutes later a dizzy Rebecca was safely tucked into her bed.

First, Lauren waited while Becca changed into an amusingly skimpy  nighty. "I'm sorry you're not getting your sexy encounter with a  basketball player."

Becca glanced down at her lacy negligee and gave a wobbly shrug. "This  isn't for special occasions. I always wear lingerie. It's my way of  reminding myself that sex still exists."

"Huh. I should try that. And Nate would pee himself if he saw you in this."

"Why?" Becca burped.

Whoops. "Do you need any aspirin?" Lauren asked to cover her Freudian slip. "Or a glass of water?"

"I guess water is a good idea. I just feel so odd. Like I had ten drinks instead of two."

"Hmm." She fetched a glass of water from the bathroom. "Look, do you think we should call your doctor?"

"No!" Becca groaned. "One glass of wine can't kill me. I don't want to make a big deal out of it."

"Are you sure?" Lauren asked. "Nate won't be mad."

"Yes, he will!" Becca used the furniture and then the wall to brace  herself on her way to bed. She yanked the comforter down and climbed in.  "I'm jus' gonna sleep it off. Don't tell anyone."

"Okay," Lauren agreed. "Under one condition. You let me take your key card and come back to check on you in a couple of hours."

"Deal," Becca said, facedown in her pillow. "S'on the desk."

Lauren tucked the key into her tiny purse and said good night. Then she  had to ride the elevator back down to the lobby, because the hotel had  two towers and she and Becca were staying on opposite sides. As the  doors parted, she took a cautious glance into the lobby. Neither of the  men she'd been avoiding was present, so she walked quickly around the  wacky, hallucinogenic furniture toward the other elevator bank.

Where Nate was standing, wearing a frown. "Have you seen Rebecca?" he barked by way of a greeting.

D'oh!

"Rebecca is fine," Lauren said carefully. "I just came from her room,  and she's gone to bed." That was all true, even if it wasn't all of the  truth.

Nate's eyes narrowed. "I saw her stumble out of the party. She did not look well."

"Um . . ." Lauren hesitated. "She wasn't feeling well, but she's really  okay. And I'm going to check on her again in a couple of hours. I'll set  my alarm."

Nate ran a hand through his hair. "Did she drink? Is that why you look guilty?"

"I'm guilty of nothing," Lauren reminded him.

He gave her a Nate smirk.

"Look-Becca thinks you're going to be mad at her."

"For breaking the doctor's orders? I am." He folded his arms and began to pace in front of the fountain.

"Why?" Lauren yelped. "It's not your body, Nate. She's your employee.  She's having a bit of a hard time, but you can't go all medieval on her  and bring down the wrath of the kingdom just because a single glass of  wine hit her really hard."

He glowered at her. "I'm supposed to be shaking hands all night for Alex. And instead I'm worrying about Rebecca."

That's when Lauren lost it. "You poor overworked man," she gasped, her  scowl matching his. "Everything you do is your choice, Nate. So worry or  not. But consider asking yourself why obsessing about Rebecca's health  is your new favorite hobby. And if you say it's because you need her  back at her desk running the Brooklyn office, I may not be responsible  for my actions."

His eyes widened, and the color on his cheeks deepened. Lauren found  herself in a stare-down with her boss. Even more startling-she won. Nate  winced and looked away.

Lauren didn't even know why she was pushing him. It was none of her  business, and Nate didn't like to be pushed. Still, she shoved a hand  into her clutch purse and pulled out a key card. "Look. This is her key.  Am I using this to check on her later? Or are you?"                       
       
           



       

He took a deep, yoga-worthy breath. Then he snatched the card out of her hand and shoved it into his pocket.

"Just be nice, okay?" Lauren added. "Don't scold."

His eyes dipped. "All right."

Lauren stood there a moment longer, a little shocked that she'd  intervened in the Nate/Rebecca melodrama. But then she gathered her wits  and left Nate alone, patting the pocket where the key was. She looked  over her shoulder as she hit the button for the elevator that would take  her to the Princess Suite. "She's in room 404," she added quietly.

"I know," he said, his voice rough. Then he gave her a smile more sheepish than Nate was usually capable of making.

Trippy.

She rode the elevator up to the penthouse level alone. Maybe she should  fill up the giant bathtub in the Princess Suite and soak in it. She  deserved a decadent reward for flying to Miami and surviving a party  where Mike Beacon wore a tux. Even though she was mad at him for  intruding on the demilitarized zone she'd tried to enforce between the  two of them, it didn't stop her from wishing she could remove his tuxedo  shirt with her teeth and nuzzle his slightly furry chest with her nose .  . .

Lauren keyed into the suite and heard the sound of running water.  "Hello?" she called out. The room was softly lit and there was music  playing in the background-a soft house music beat. Very Miami. The maid  who performed the turndown service at this hotel was very thorough. But  also tardy. It was way too late for housekeeping to be in her room. And  where was her cart?