The water shut off and he started up the stairs, then decided he'd give her a few minutes to get dressed before charging in.
"Lauren?” He knocked. “You decent?"
No answer.
"Lauren?"
He heard shuffling and the knob rattled. He took that as an invitation and opened the door. All he could think then was this invitation wasn't what he'd expected. Lauren stood frozen, her eyes huge with shock, in a white tank top kind of thing with some lace over breasts he'd never let himself notice. And she wore these bottoms that looked kind of like running shorts, only lighter, and whiter. And clingier. And—girly.
Man. Since when had her legs gone all the way up to her ears anyway? They were so shapely and white, except for her poor swollen knee, puckered from the too-tight bandage.
He pulled his tongue back in and cleared his throat.
"Go ahead and sit down and I'll wrap it before you get dressed."
She sat, still silent, on the closed toilet and Seth knelt at her feet. If he'd been wearing a collar he'd be tugging at it. He found it suddenly difficult to swallow in the steamy room, scented with flowery shampoo. Now he needed to touch that soft lovely skin. Lauren's skin.
Lauren. His best friend. He cleared his throat again, shifted his weight to alleviate some of the pressure building in his lower body, and reached for the bandage. He was careful to keep his eyes on her knee, to think of her as a patient, even though he wanted to see how the damp air of the bathroom made her top cling to her—top.
No, no, no. This was Lauren. Careful not to touch her, he started wrapping her knee. His fingertips brushed her skin and both of them jumped. She made a little noise, an “Oh!” and Seth looked up into her face.
Mistake. Her eyes were dark with a longing he'd never seen but recognized all the same. Her lips parted around desperate little pants that made his blood sizzle. And her face was flushed a rosy color that had nothing to do with the steamy room.
He leaned back, suddenly unable to breathe. Cool things off. Make a joke. For the life of him he couldn't think of one. “Geez, you really like hot showers,” he said lamely.
Oh, man, why did he go and say that? Now he was picturing her in the shower, lathering her hair, water running over her upturned—
He hooked the bandage and scrambled backwards, bumping his head on the open cabinet door when he stood. He saw stars but it didn't slow his exit. “I'll just, ah, wait for you downstairs,” he said. “Take as long as you need.” An hour should be enough time to get his body under control.
Lauren sat in the bathroom for a long time. Wow. Wow. That had been—wow. She'd meant to make sure the door was locked before he came in, but apparently the fates had something different in mind.
God. The way he'd looked at her—Seth had never looked at her that way before, like he wanted to run his hands all over her body. Her body had responded with a resounding, “Yes!"
He'd wrapped her leg, so careful not to touch her. Anticipation built until he'd finally brushed his touch over her skin and her entire body jolted like she'd touched a live wire. She'd dreamed about this for years and years, had never let herself hope. And when did everything change? Right after everything else changed. Was she even thinking clearly, interpreting things clearly?
And how could she entertain thoughts of getting romantic with Seth while her parents were splitting up? Wasn't that proof of how wrong things could go? And her father was a stable kind of guy, not like Seth, who had a different girl every month. If she became one of those girls, and he discarded her, then everything would change. He'd no longer come around, and that didn't bear thinking about.
How could she face him now? He had to know she was aroused—he'd been with enough women to know the signs.
She only had one option—pretend it never happened.
He could run. He could claim an errand; get the hell out of here. Lauren would know the reason why, but at least he wouldn't be sitting around pretending nothing happened. But she was his best friend and she was going through a rough time. He wouldn't abandon her, no matter how uncomfortable the rest of the day would be.
And embarrassment wasn't the only discomfort. He figured the least sexual activity to indulge in, since she really didn't want to go out, was college football and a couple of six packs on the couch.
By the middle of the first quarter, he realized he'd clearly forgotten high school. All he could think about was the woman down the couch from him. Was she still wearing those silky things under her clothes? He'd never thought of Lauren as a silky thing kind of girl. He'd always thought she was cotton all the way. Now he couldn't think of anything else.
The more beer she drank, the further she slumped, toward him. He tried to avoid contact, even though his body raged for it. This was Lauren, the last person in the world he wanted to hurt, and the single person he could hurt the most.
And then she opened her mouth. “You think it's been a long time since my parents had sex?"
Beer spewed out of Seth's nose and he lurched forward in search of a napkin. “God, Lauren, I don't even want to think about that!"
She eased back toward the arm of the couch, kind of looking down her nose at him, only not. She had to be completely clueless about the effect of this conversation. He was, after all, her best friend, not someone she'd ever had to watch her words around.
"I just wonder how long they've been unhappy, you know? How long they haven't been able to turn to each other. And if having sex would solve that."
He set his beer down and wiped the coffee table with his wadded napkin. “You know it wouldn't."
She shifted, trying to sit up and wincing. “Not the sex itself, but the intimacy, you know? The being there for each other."
"Have you talked to your dad?” he asked, desperate to get away from this conversation.
"Yeah, a little while ago, but not about this. He's doing better than I expected. I guess he saw it coming a little better than I did."
"I imagine."
They fell into a silence, but Seth knew she wasn't watching the game. He could practically hear the cogs in her brain turn.
"How long has it been for you?” she asked.
Okay, that he hadn't expected. He should have, but didn't. He pretended not to follow. “For what?"
"Since you had sex."
He sat up straighter, shifted away from the intimacy of the question. “Geez, Lauren, I don't know. Why?"
Oops, dangerous question. Did he really want the answer?
"I just think if it's been awhile you'd have better stuff to do than have a pity party with your old pal Lauren."
Where was she going with this?
"So it hasn't been that long, huh?” she persisted.
"A couple of weeks. How long has it been for you?” Hey, this was a pal type conversation, right? So turnabout was fair play.
"Eons."
"Right. You've been with someone since Ed, right?"
"Er—"
Man, it had been nearly a damn year. What was wrong with the men out there? He knew Ed's betrayal had hurt her. Had she locked herself up as a result? Was she alone by choice? “Seriously. You haven't?"
"Well, no, but you know what they say about a guy who sleeps around. You sleep with him, and everyone he's slept with. So that should hold me for awhile.” She sat forward and grabbed another beer, twisting the top off as she sat back. “You know, not really something I want to think about. So, like, did you know her awhile?"
"Who?"
She tossed the aluminum cap back on the coffee table, watched it roll off onto the floor. “The last girl you slept with."
"Lauren, I just don't—” He bent for the cap, using the excuse to move away.
"I'm trying to figure out how relationships work, see, and not having been in one for awhile puts me at a disadvantage."
He sat back against the arm of the couch, bouncing the cap in his palm. “From my point of view, it's not much easier if you're in one."
"You haven't been in one that lasted longer than a month as long as I've known you. But look at your parents. They seem to have it figured out."
"My parents?” Man, she really didn't know what she was talking about. “I don't know. I think they have to pay a price to be together."
Lauren twisted to look at him. “A price? What kind of price?"
He couldn't tell her what he knew about the kind of man his father was, shouldn't have said as much as he did. If she knew, on the heels of her mother's news—damn, he wouldn't know how to deal with that. But the way she was looking, he had to come up with something.
"Five kids,” he said, and saluted her with the beer.
Seth stared at the pink paper on his desk at the firehouse and rubbed his chin. He never took a woman's phone number if he didn't intend to use it. This woman, Angela, looked like she stepped out a Victoria's Secret catalogue, and she'd gotten a kick out of his firefighter's uniform when he'd gone into her apartment building for an elevator situation. He'd been with women who had less going for them. He needed this, good lusty sex to clear out the cobwebs.
Still, for some reason the idea didn't appeal.
No, not some reason. Lauren was the reason. Lauren and these new feelings he had. Damn, he never thought his friendship with her would ruin his love life. He'd be damned if he let it. He picked up the phone, dialed the first six numbers, let his finger hover over the last before slamming the phone back in the cradle, wadding up the little pink piece of paper and throwing it away.
He picked up the phone and called Lauren instead.
Lauren twirled pasta on her fork and tried to pretend Seth wasn't watching her across the red checked table. He'd called her at work, said he wanted pasta for supper and would she go with him? Something was up if he was asking her out to his favorite date restaurant and looking at her like a specimen under glass. Finally she set the fork down and glared.
"What?"
He folded and looked at her, his gaze direct and disturbing. “So why do you think—how come we haven't ever—I mean, you and me. Got together."
She tilted her head, frowning. That was completely not what she expected him to say. “Us? A couple?"
"Yeah.” He adjusted the linen napkin on his lap. “How come we haven't—ah, coupled?"
She felt the blush heat her skin, something she hadn't even done the other day in the bathroom. Ohhh. That's what this was about. Okay, Lauren, don't make this too big of a deal. This is so not what you need right now. “I always thought you were afraid of my father."
Seth grinned and was himself again, not the Big Embarrassment Maker. “There's that, only I'm not scared of him."
"I'm sure he'd be thrilled to hear that.” She plucked a piece of bread out of the basket and started shredding it, hoping he'd drop the whole thread.
"So why do you think we haven't?” he persisted. Of course. Usually she could derail his train of thought so easily. Why was this topic sticking?
She lifted a shoulder and stabbed at the romaine in her salad. “I always thought the attraction wasn't there."
He set his fork down deliberately and folded his hands on the table. “What's that supposed to mean?"
She shifted. “I mean.” She dragged the word out. “You're way more handsome than I am pretty."
He snorted and picked up the fork again. “That's garbage."
She made eye contact now, needing him to understand what she believed. “It's true. If we hadn't grown up together, you'd never look twice at me. You have gorgeous women throwing themselves at you all the time. Which makes you not having a date tonight pretty extraordinary."
"I didn't call her.” Seth waved his hand back and forth over the candle flame.
"Who?” Lauren looked up from her forkful of food.
"The girl who gave me her number. And she was probably out of my league."
She set the fork down again, still loaded. “Seth, no woman is out of your league."
"Sure, but—” He frowned across the table. “How do you know if someone is out of your league?"
"Well, there are tiers, you see. Butt ugly people, ugly people, unattractive people, plain people, cute people, attractive people and beautiful people.” She stacked her hands as she spoke. “You usually are most comfortable with someone in your own tier. Occasionally you might rise one tier above your own, but never two. Those relationships never work.” And that was why she'd never let herself have a hope about Seth. She was content to be his friend.
She was.
"And you figured this out when?"
"High school. Look, just look around you."
"The light's too dim."
"Yeah, why did you pick this place anyway?” It was a definite couples place.
"I was hungry for spaghetti."
She looked pointedly at his unfinished meal and grew uneasy. He had another motive.
"So anyway, tell me more. Do you really believe this?” He folded his arms on the table and looked at her as if she had all the secrets of the universe.
"Of course. It's so common it's nearly a statistic."
"Seems like a pretty dim view on relationships."
"Why would I have any reason to have any other kind of view? You know my history. And hell, look at my parents. My mother is a beautiful person. My father, much as I love him, is not. Witness the result of that."
"I doubt that played into the decision after thirty years of marriage. I think after a while you probably stop seeing each other."
"And what would you base that on?"
"You sure opened my eyes the other day in the bathroom."
She dipped her head as her face heated. She didn't know whether to be insulted that he'd stopped seeing her or flattered that he'd noticed her. “That's different. We're ... different."
"How?"
Because she still saw him in all his glory every time she looked at him. But she wouldn't admit that. It would leave her even more vulnerable than being in her underwear after her shower. “We just are. Now do you want to hear my theory or not?"
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug.