Chapter 15

15

Lauren was fed up. Yep. Maybe she had felt bad before, but now she had absolutely had enough. She had no idea what crawled up Ben's butt and died, and honestly, at this point, she really didn't care.

He'd been giving her the cold shoulder for three days now. Sure, he was being professional, but it was a bare-minimum professionalism. No warmth, no small talk—hell, no talk, period.

He had not even looked at her in the weekly production meeting.

He had skipped out on their wardrobe fitting, rescheduling (Barb and Marlene had informed her conspiratorially) for a time when she wouldn't be there.

And then, yesterday at the ADR session—which she learned on her own is when they dub over their lines—he didn't make eye contact with her at all, even though they were in a small sound booth and sharing the same mic.

She should've learned her lesson. You would certainly think she would have after New York. Getting involved with people you work with was a bad idea. Yep. Bad with a capital B. She didn't even think about that before she and Ben hooked up because, honestly, this didn't feel like work to her. At least not the kind of work she was used to.

But even on short-term projects in the future, she would need to remember that "dipping your pen in the company ink"—as Karina had so brashly phrased it—was not a good idea.

Now they were about to head out of town again, this time to Palm Springs. She wondered if he would be able to pull off ignoring her for the length of a car ride, a flight, and then another car ride. She bet he could.

Not wanting to risk a repeat of last week's scrambling fiasco, Lauren stood outside waiting for the town car despite the freezing temperatures. This time was different all around. She had composed a detailed packing list and executed it the day before. Most importantly, she had set three separate alarms just to make sure she did not oversleep.

She sighed contentedly, though, thinking about the fact that today they were headed to shoot a property in Palm Springs. She loved Palm Springs. The air, the light, the scorching dry heat. She had stayed on the outskirts several times at Ranchos Las Palmas and had never failed to feel utterly rejuvenated after a weekend there.

But, she reminded herself, this was work, and she needed to keep that in the forefront of her mind. She needed to focus on the job at hand so that she wouldn't fall victim to temptation and start obsessing about Ben again, which could taint her performance.

The town car pulled up to the curb and Lauren climbed in, relieved to be out of the cold. Sure, she knew that she could've waited in the house, but she was still stinging from last week's humiliation. She was not a halfway kind of a girl. Go big or go home. She didn't want them to have to wait on her for a single instant.

The driver, the same gentleman as the week before, quickly got out and opened the door for her while she got in, circling around after she was safely inside to load her luggage into the trunk.

She thanked him warmly and settled into the back seat of the town car.

Ben was typing away on his laptop and, for all outward appearances, was so involved in his work that he didn't even notice her getting into the car.

Heh.

Two could play at that game.

She got her laptop out and powered it up. She was behind on so much real estate paperwork that it certainly wasn't like she needed to fake a need to work, she told herself. Not like Mr. I Have Two Assistants I'd Trust With My Life over there, clicking away officiously on the keys.

She just knew that, if she were to sneak a glance, he'd probably just be updating his Facebook.

As it had so many other times in her life when she needed it to, work provided a welcome oblivion. She got involved in going over several contracts that needed her attention, and before she knew it, the ride to the Reno-Tahoe airport seemed to have gone by in a flash.

Hey, maybe Ben's cold shoulder was a good thing, she thought.

But then why did she just really miss his smile?

--- ~ ---

Oh, for the love of God, why did she have to smell so good?

Ben was trying everything in his power to block out any effect that Lauren had on him. It wasn't easy. Sure, not looking at her helped. It was slightly more difficult when she spoke. Damn, he loved her voice. When she spoke, it almost sounded musical.

And it wasn't just her voice he loved. It was also her words. She was careful, thoughtful, and articulate. Some people he knew used big words to try and make themselves seem more important, but it read false on them. Not Lauren. Her vocabulary was larger than the average person's and she knew how to use it. He found that sexy as hell.

Even that he could somewhat block out of his mind.

But her smell. Damn, her smell. It was intoxicating. It made it difficult for him to think. It infiltrated his brain with its feathery tendrils and wove her magic spell over him. He had never even noticed another woman's scent before beyond the passing thought that he liked the perfume they were wearing that day. But with Lauren, he couldn't un-notice it. It was always wrapped around him like a warm blanket. He couldn't shake it, and that pissed him off.

He'd been able to avoid her in makeup and even completely ignore her during their flight and car rides, but now he would have to face the music. They had to shoot, and as welcome a relief as it had been to allow himself the immature concession of pretending she didn't exist, that would all have to stop now. He had a job to do, one that he was absolutely not going to allow to suffer due to his ego...or whatever part of him it was that she had damaged.

To his utter frustration, though, he found himself unable to be completely at ease with her, even when the cameras started rolling. Their dynamic was stiff and unnatural. There was none of the comfort and chemistry that made them, as a team, so compelling to watch.

He could see by the worried crinkling of Paul's eyes as he watched the monitor, that his suspicions were correct and this day of shooting was circling the drain.

Okay, he thought, maybe this tension between us only exists because we haven't addressed it. Maybe if we just had a quick conversation and agreed to be more civil, that would work.

Between the next set of takes, he took a deep breath and said quietly, "Lauren, I think we just need to be a little friendlier with each other. A little nicer."

"Are you implying I'm not friendly enough for you?" she asked icily.

Oh, great. The cold tone was back. That wasn't going to be simple to thaw. He knew this from experience.

"I'm just saying," he said slowly, attempting to be patient and not let his frustration get the better of him, "you can catch more flies with honey than you can with vinegar."

"Hmmm. Interesting," Lauren replied flatly. "You do realize that, in the scenario you just laid out, you are the insect, correct?"

Paul walked up to them just at that instant. "So I see the honeymoon's over, huh?" he said, tension evident in his face and voice but clearly attempting to make light of the situation in an effort to not bring it to a head.

Lauren and Ben stared at him, neither one of them willing to be the first one to call a truce by cracking a smile.

After a moment of silence so thick with tension, Paul said uncomfortably, "Okay, then. If that's how we want to do it, I'll just be clear and direct. To be honest with both of you, your dynamic this morning has been for shit. I need you to relax. Remember last week? When it was awesome? Think we could harness a little bit of that lightning in a bottle?"

Ben and Lauren just stared at him. Ben wasn't sure what Lauren was thinking or feeling, but he, for one, was scared shitless. This was not a talk you wanted to have with your director, not if you wanted to keep your job.

This was the first time in his career—in either of his careers, really—that he was in a situation where he had to sternly tell himself to get his head in the game, get his shit together, get ahold of himself, and still not actually be able to do it. .

If he followed this train of thought out to its logical conclusion; this could be an indication that he was losing his touch. If he couldn't transition into professional mode at a moment's notice, regardless of what stresses were weighing on him or what else might be going on in his life, then game over. Stick a fork in him—he was done.

Determined not to let that happen, resolute to prove to both Paul and himself that this was just a bad morning and he could, in fact, pull it out, he said with renewed focus, "Absolutely, Paul. You got it. I can adjust. No problem. I'm a professional."

Even without looking at her standing next to him, he felt Lauren bristle. He didn't need to see her in order to feel her annoyed gaze as she cut her eyes sideways at him.

"That's a yes for me as well, Paul," Lauren said, her voice as smooth as a baby's bottom. "I am certainly a professional as well."

Ben sighed inwardly, kicking himself. Well, of course she'd taken that statement personally. He certainly hadn't thought about how it would sound before it came out of his mouth, particularly from her perspective. He was so worried about his life and his career, and what this disastrous morning meant in the scope of both of those things that he hadn't thought about her feelings or the implications this morning might have for her.

He wanted to pull her aside, look into her eyes, talk to her honestly, lay all of his cards on the table and at least see what kind of reaction that might get, because this passive-aggressive routine was doing nothing for him. It wasn't the way he liked to operate. It wasn't who he really was. As with so many things in his life since he'd met Lauren, though, it was a steam engine that was moving forward under its own powerful momentum and he felt utterly powerless to stop it.

Anyway, that conversation wasn't something that could happen now. Paul was about to call action again, and then he and Lauren would be working. They had to focus on the professional now. They could deal with the personal later.

But he did want to deal with it. He hated the cold shoulder. He didn't like giving it, and it was driving him nearly insane to receive it.

And the worst part was that he was still overcome with almost irresistible lust every time he stood within close proximity to her—which was all day long. The ups and downs he had experienced since meeting this woman were unprecedented.

The rest of the shooting day progressed well. But it was no comparison to the brilliance they had experienced the week before; he and Lauren weren't vibing and showing the camera the magical chemistry like they did in Aspen, but they were doing a good job. Their reading today came across as warm and engaging, and they related to each other with a professional respect that read onscreen.

When the long day finally came to a close, Ben gathered up his things and walked out to the front of the house to climb in the town car that production provided for both him and Lauren.

To his surprise, it was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Lauren.

Well, of course, he thought to himself sarcastically. Perfect end to a perfect day.

He went back inside the house, where the crew was still striking the equipment, and grabbed the first PA he saw.

"Got any idea where my car is?" he asked, doing his best to keep the tension and sarcasm out of his voice. After all, it wasn't this poor kid's fault that Lauren decided to take off in the car.

"Sure, one second. Let me check," said the PA.

He turned and stepped away a few feet to speak into his headset mic. In just a moment, he walked back over with a regretful look on his face.

"Sorry, Mr. Stevens," the young man said, nervousness showing through the polite and respectful tone he was delivering the bad news in, "but I guess Ms. Harrison took the town car back to the hotel. Do you want me to call you a taxi?"

Ben nodded, not trusting his voice, sure that it would betray the anger and despair he felt within. He didn't want to take it out on some innocent PA who had nothing to do with his being stranded.

Damn. He'd love to know what exactly was going through her head.