The Guy Most Likely To...: Underneath It All / Can't Get You Out of My Head / A Moment Like This

“I wish I were.”

“How come we never heard about it?” Josh asked.

“I don’t think there was a lot of news coverage until later, when the feds caught up with them.”

One question answered. His parents were, apparently, no longer in hiding. Guess that nonextraditing country hadn’t been such a safe haven after all.

“By then, you’d all graduated and I was old news. I don’t think my name was ever in the papers, either.”

Even if it had been, Lauren wouldn’t have seen it. She’d left Chicago a few weeks after graduation, once she’d realized Seth really wasn’t coming back. And she’d never—despite being tempted on a few occasions—gone looking for news of him on the internet.

“How…what…wow, they dragged you out of the country?” asked Maggie.

“Yeah. I had gone home the night before and stayed there so I could borrow my Dad’s car to drive to the prom.”

Lauren nodded slowly, remembering. He’d talked about that—insisting he wanted to take her in style in his dad’s Porsche.

“I woke up that morning preparing to go pick up my tux and a corsage for Lauren. Then I came downstairs to find my father shoving cash in a briefcase and my mother scooping up the silver from the dining room. They told me there was an emergency, they were in danger and we were moving. Immediately.”

The conversation in the banquet room had quieted significantly, and Lauren realized everybody within earshot had shut up to hear the juicy details firsthand.

“I didn’t find out the truth until we were on a plane somewhere over Central America,” Seth continued. “Dear old Dad apparently went to the Bernie Madoff school of financial management, though on a much smaller scale. My mom helped him, and they knew they were about to be arrested.”

He said it easily, but she heard the heartbreak there, and honestly couldn’t imagine it. She had never met Seth’s parents, but she knew they had never come to a single school event. She had the feeling he and his sister were treated as out-of-sight, out-of-mind tax deductions. Still, she couldn’t imagine having the blinders torn off your eyes like that, finding out your wealthy, well-respected parents were wanted criminals.

As if he knew the question everybody wanted to ask, he continued. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I went. I was eighteen, and I could have thrown a fit and refused to go with them. But to be honest, I was kinda shell-shocked. Remember, I didn’t know the whole story at first—I was imagining a hit being put out on my dad by the mob or something. Not the FBI.”

Of course, what eighteen-year-old kid after being told by his parents that they were in danger wouldn’t think something dire like that? It was certainly more logical than the wanted-by-the-authorities explanation.

“Mainly, I was worried about Em, who wasn’t eighteen and had no choice. When she was a baby, my parents wouldn’t have remembered to feed her if it was the maid’s day off.”

He had always been close and protective of his sister, who had been in seventh grade at the time. At just twelve or thirteen, her whole world had been shaken apart, as Seth’s had been.

He had been speaking to everyone, but he suddenly turned his attention to Lauren. “I had time to make one phone call. I was told exactly what to say, and my father was standing there the whole time to make sure I didn’t say anything else. I’m so sorry I stood you up that night, Lauren.”

She didn’t respond. She’d spent so many years being angry at him. To say she was confused would be an understatement. She had more questions, of course, but wasn’t sure she had the right to ask them. He was, after all, telling this story to everyone, not just to her. If he wanted anybody to know more, he’d say it.

He didn’t, falling silent while buzzing conversations resumed at their own table and at those near enough to have overheard. This would be the talk of the reunion.

“Seth, I don’t know what to say,” she finally replied.

More than that, she didn’t know what to feel. She’d spent so many years resenting him for breaking her heart, imagining a million things, but nothing close to the truth. Now, though, she wasn’t sure what to call the emotions racing through her, making her stomach churn, her fists clench, her eyes sting.

Indignation, of course—on his behalf, and his sister’s.

Anger at his parents. A huge amount of curiosity about what else had happened. How had Seth ended up back in the U.S.? And when?

Yeah. Lots of questions. But none she wanted to ask in front of any of these people. She wasn’t sure he’d want to answer them, even in private, but she had to at least try. So, taking a deep breath and telling herself she owed him the chance to clear the air, and owed herself the chance to learn the truth and forgive him, she pushed back from the table.

Rising to her feet, she glanced at Seth, seeing the flash of disappointment on his face and hearing his sigh. Did he think she was leaving? Walking out without a word? Was he so used to rejection and revulsion when other people heard about his family that he automatically expected it?

Her heart—frozen and hardened against him such a long time ago—thawed the tiniest bit. They weren’t kids anymore, and far too much time had gone by for anything to happen between them. Not to mention the geography issue. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t give Seth the atonement he seemed to need.

“Come on,” she told him, seeing the way his head jerked in surprise. “Let’s get out of here and go talk.”

3

SHE DIDN’T HAVE TO ASK him twice. Seth wasn’t about to stick around with these wide-eyed people who were dying to put their heads together in titillation over his confession: that the golden-boy king of the prom was the son of a couple of crooks. He’d come here for one reason—Lauren. Her finally agreeing to talk to him made the trip from California worthwhile.

He got up, nodded to the others at the table and took Lauren’s arm. She fell into step beside him, their strides matching, as if she was just as eager to escape as he was. Her long leg brushed against his trousers and her bare shoulder was inches from his own, their hands touching as they both reached for the door handle.

The excitement was catching; it was as if they’d both realized they were going to share a moment ten years in the making. Finally, they could clear the air, answer the questions, ask for and offer forgiveness.

His heart was pounding. Seth had never been more aware of a woman, never so desperate to breathe deeper to catch her scent, to touch her to make sure she was real and here, ready to give him a chance to explain. Everything about her called to a nearly forgotten part of him, that deep, secret place where he’d once been young and crazy in love.

Not to mention in lust.

He’d wanted Lauren desperately the entire time they’d dated, but he’d been the “good” boyfriend and made do with heavy petting and deep, hungry make-out sessions that usually left him blue-balled and needing to visit his own hand. Knowing they were supposed to consummate their relationship on prom night had been like racing for the end of the rainbow to get the pot of gold.

Instead, he’d spent that night running away from everything he knew with his cold, selfish parents, already mourning what he had lost…and what he’d never had.

He hadn’t come here to have sex with Lauren. But he wasn’t a liar. If the opportunity presented itself, he’d take it and never look back. Because he thought it might kill him if he lived his entire life without ever knowing what it would be like to make love to her.

He was about to ask where she wanted to go when she said, “I need a drink. Let’s find the nearest bar.”

“Good plan,” he said with a nod.

He didn’t steer her toward the saloon, which had been heating up with a raucous crowd when he’d left a short time ago. Nor was he interested in the ‘50s Sock Hop Hall, the ‘70s Disco, or the ‘80s Techno Club. The piano bar sounded like the best place for them to sit in a shadowy corner undisturbed.

Fortunately, most of the reunions being held at Celebrations this weekend had similar opening dinners tonight. So while the banquet rooms were filled to the brim, the small piano lounge was almost completely empty.

She spied the same back corner table he did, and strode toward it. A waitress met them there and Lauren said, “Vodka martini. Dirty. And make it a double.”

Hiding his smile, Seth murmured, “I’ll have the same.”

He sat across from her, letting his eyes adjust to the low lighting, liking the way the amber table light cast shadows on her gold-streaked hair. It wasn’t quite as long as it had been in high school, but was still thick and beautiful. He remembered burying his hands in it when they kissed. Many times.

“So. Dragged to a foreign country by your fleeing-the-law parents,” she finally said, holding his steady gaze. “I guess that qualifies as a decent excuse for not coming to prom.”

A tiny smile tugged at his mouth. “Have I mentioned our flight was so turbulent, I got sick in my mom’s purse?”

“On the silver?”

“They wouldn’t let her carry it on. But I ruined her designer wallet.”

“Was it really airsickness?” she asked, seeing through the humor and getting right to the point.

He shook his head. “No. It wasn’t.”

He’d been physically ill all right…sick about what his parents had done, that he’d let them drag him along, about what would happen to Emily. The minute he’d found out the truth, he’d started to argue, demanding to be returned home. His pleas had fallen on deaf ears. And when he truly accepted the fact that his father—who he’d assumed was inattentive because he was busy making millions of dollars for other people—had been stealing those dollars, he’d literally thrown up.

He had to be honest with himself. If he’d been able to call Lauren sooner, he might not have done it. He’d been pretty ashamed for the first few months of his unwanted exile.

As if she knew that, she reached across the table and gently squeezed his hand. It was meant to be comforting, quick, friendly. But Seth found himself gripping her fingers, holding tight. He was flooded with memories of innocent days when holding Lauren’s hand had felt like the most momentous part of his day.

Her fingers were still soft, fragile, slender. He wanted them touching him, twining in his hair, pulling him close for a warm, sultry kiss.

Their stares met and locked for a long second. Then, knowing they still had talking to do, he released her.

The silence continued as the waitress returned with their drinks. Lauren took a sip of hers, then lowered the glass back onto the table and ran the tip of her finger across its wet rim.

“So then what happened?” she finally asked.

He didn’t really want to get into the whole story, but he’d promised her—and himself—that he wouldn’t hold anything back if she gave him the chance to speak. So he told her, trying not to dwell on the dark details or let his voice reveal the still-tangled emotions he carried with him and probably always would.

When he was finished, she peppered him with questions. “Did you even know which country you were in?”

“Not at first.”

“And you didn’t have any money?”

“Not a cent. Or my passport. They took it.”

“There was no phone, no computer at the house they rented?”

“No computer. They had a satellite phone they kept under lock and key in a safe in their bedroom.” Knowing the other questions she had to be wondering about, he added, “The servants all spoke Spanish, and I didn’t. Plus the estate they rented was in the middle of nowhere. The times we went into the nearest town, my parents never let us out of their sight. Em and I pretty much just had each other.”

She bit her lip and blinked quickly, as if trying to hide any telltale moisture in her eyes. “How did you get away?” she asked, her voice soft, a whisper.

“I cracked the safe,” he admitted, smiling at the memory.

“Seriously?”

“It was pretty old. I worked on it for months. Finally, I opened it, got a hold of the phone and called my grandfather in California.”

“Did he come for you?”

“He waited long enough to get a visa, then hopped on a plane to South America,” he replied, wondering if she could hear the relief and gratitude he still felt, all these years later. His grandfather had been the best man he’d ever known, had been everything Seth’s own father wasn’t. Honest, loving, honorable, he’d been a straight-arrow high school football coach who’d never understood the woman his daughter had become when she’d married Seth’s rich father. Seth had known his Gramps would know what to do. And he had.

“How…”

“I was able to tell him the country and the name of the nearest town. He showed up a week after my call for help. He told my parents he’d already called the FBI and turned them in. Demanding our passports, he packed up me and Em and flew us back stateside.”

“When was that?”

“October ‘02. Almost five months after we left Chicago. He took us back to live with him in L.A.” Seth reached for his own drink, sipping and letting the icy liquid cool off the heat of the memories. “That was the week I called you at your parents’ house.” Not sure what answer he wanted, he asked, “I guess you didn’t get the message?”

“I got it.”

Oh. She’d chosen not to call him back. A part of him had been hoping she’d say her parents had never told her he’d been trying to find her. “I understand. I guess you’d moved on and didn’t want to hear any excuses.”

“True, though I probably would have listened to them at that point. I didn’t get quite as hard and angry until a few years had gone by without any further word.”

Unable to help it, he asked, “So why didn’t you call me back?”

Her eyes widened in shock. “Call you…What do you mean?”

“I gave your father my number and asked him to have you call me in California. I even offered to fly to Chicago to explain and to apologize to you and your family in person.”

She lifted a hand to her face, rubbing her eyes, sighing audibly. “I didn’t get that part of the message.” Shaking her head, she said, “My mother was the one who told me you’d called to apologize, but nothing else. I guess my father only told her what he wanted either of us to hear, because I know she wouldn’t have kept that from me.”

Seth wasn’t sure whether he felt better, or worse. Part of him was relieved she hadn’t chosen to ignore him for the past decade. Another part hated that she’d been manipulated by her own father, as he had by his. Of course, hers had almost certainly been doing it for her own good. His…not so much.

“That’s a lot of lost years due to other people’s interference,” he mumbled, talking as much to himself as to her.

“Maybe we needed them in order to grow up.”

“Maybe.” Then, getting to the point that had brought him here, he added, “So do you think you can forgive me for running out on you without a word?”

Lauren stared at him across the table. Her eyes were decidedly glassy now, and she was nibbling her bottom lip. The hand that continued to toy with the rim of her glass shook.

But her words were steady. Absolutely certain.

“I can. And I do, Seth. You’re forgiven.”

He nodded slowly and replied, “Thank you.”

LAUREN HADN’T TOTALLY understood how much her acceptance of Seth’s apology meant to him until she saw the way he sagged back in his chair in relief. He looked like a criminal who’d been forgiven by his victim.

In truth, he’d been the victim…of unscrupulous parents, of time, of distance, of her resentment and her father’s over-protectiveness. She wanted to cry for him, and for Emily. They hadn’t even talked about what had happened later. Were his parents in prison? Still on the run? How had he ended up working as a sports agent and how had Emily ended up back here in Illinois?

There were a lot of questions still to be answered. But right now, she didn’t want to ask them. She just wanted to sit here, enjoying the soft music and his company, letting herself believe, for the first time in ten years, that he really had, at one time, cared about her. She wasn’t going to call it love—eighteen-year-old guys didn’t really understand that concept as far as she was concerned. But he’d cared. And that mattered to her. A lot.

“So how’s your life been?” he finally asked with a wry chuckle, breaking the silence.

She laughed with him. “Not bad. I live in Georgia now.”

His jaw dropped. “Seriously? I can’t picture you as a slow-talking, languid Southern belle.”

A hint of an accent had crept into his remark, and she responded in kind. “Why, suh, you wound me. Ah’m a genteel Georgia peach.”

His laughter turned into a snort. “You might have a Georgia zip code, but your blood’s all Chicago speed and energy.”

Maybe. Probably. She definitely wasn’t happy with her job, and hadn’t been since her much-loved boss, Mimi, had left the grocery store chain her family owned. Frankly, laying out ads for canned green beans and dog food hadn’t been what she’d had in mind when she’d gotten her marketing degree.

Seth’s open smile and easy charm made him so easy to talk to that she found herself telling him all about it. He soon had her spilling her guts about her life, everywhere she’d been in the past ten years, every address, job…and relationship.

Those hadn’t been hard to talk about—they’d been few and far between. But the conversation had opened the door, and since turnabout was fair play, she eventually asked, “What about you? No Mrs. Crowder back in L.A., I take it?”

He almost choked on his drink. Setting it down, he leaned over the table and said, “You really think I’d have tracked you down and tried so desperately to make things right with you if I had a wife?”

Not wanting to read too much into his words, which made it sound as though he’d come here for more than an apology, she kept her tone light. “It’s possible. Maybe you’re doing some kind of twelve-step program and making amends is part of it.”

He gestured toward his empty martini glass. “If so, I’m doing a pretty shitty job with the rest of the program.”

“True.”

“I came here because I wanted the chance to explain, to make sure you understood. I’ve been angry at my parents for a lot of reasons for a lot of years.”

“I don’t blame you.”

He went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “But close to the top of the list is that they cost me you.” His jaw clenched and his hand tightened on his glass. His voice low, he added, “They cost me the night we were supposed to share after the prom.”

Lauren’s heart skipped a beat. She’d been letting down her guard, enjoying being with him, remembering how wonderful Seth had been to talk to. She’d almost forgotten the sexual tension that swam between them when they were together. Now she was reminded of it. His lips parted as he breathed across them, his eyes narrowed as he swept a thorough stare over her hair, her face, her throat, her chest. Oh, yeah, there was lots of tension.

He looked away. “Sorry.”

He wanted her. Still. There was no denying it. Maybe he had come here for forgiveness, but he’d also come here because of the sex they’d never had.

Was there anything men wanted more than the one who got away? She didn’t think so. Funny, though, she wasn’t offended by it. In fact, she had to take a moment to pull her thoughts back in order, and decide what she was feeling. She’d been telling herself, ever since she’d heard his voice at the registration desk, that Seth being here was a bad thing. Feeling the electricity zapping between them during that oh-so-brief kiss when she’d caught him outside her room had reinforced that idea.

Now, though, she couldn’t decide if things had gotten better or worse. She had forgiven him, she did understand and she was still incredibly attracted to him. As he, apparently, was to her.

Could she have him, though? They barely knew each other anymore, with a decade’s worth of resentment and misery between them. They lived on opposite sides of the country for heaven’s sake!

Still, he wasn’t talking about a relationship, about love. He was talking about sex. About attraction, curiosity, regret and the need to finally have something they’d both been denied.

She wouldn’t have trusted declarations of love, not after all this time. But sexual desire? That she could trust. That she could rely on. That she could even indulge.

“It meant that much to you?”

“Are you serious?”

She nodded slowly.

Seth leaned closer over the table, until the tips of his fingers brushed hers, and she could feel the warmth of his exhalations against her cheek.

“It meant everything to me, Lauren.”

She had to shift in her seat, her entire body going on alert at the tone in his voice. He was so sure, so certain, so unmistakable about his desire for her.

“I’d had sex before, you knew that.”

Yes, she’d known. And she honestly had wondered why he was being patient, waiting for her, the innocent virgin.

“But it was like I was starting over again with you. Getting the chance to do it the right way, for the right reasons, with the right person.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. I ended up with the wrong person because I was so angry at you.”

He swiped a frustrated hand through his thick hair. “One more thing to add to my list of crimes.”

She reached out and grabbed his other hand, not wanting him to take on that burden of guilt, as well. “It’s okay. Women survive bad sex.”

“So do guys.”

“Had your fair share, huh?”

He nodded. “I never got past the wondering. I compared every woman I got involved with to the possibility of what it would have been like with you.”

She understood. Because she’d done the same thing for ten long years.

Suddenly she realized those years didn’t matter. What had happened in the past didn’t matter. What would happen tomorrow didn’t matter.

There was only tonight. They had it. They deserved it.

And she wanted it.

“I think it’s time we found out, don’t you?” she asked, hearing the invitation in her own lowered, sultry voice. “What are you—”

She cut him off, knowing what she wanted and not wanting to dance around it anymore. “I’m saying, Seth, that I want the night we never had. Now.”

He didn’t respond, didn’t accept her invitation—or, probably more accurately, her challenge. Because whether she’d meant it that way or not, her tone had dared him to take her up on her offer.

She held her breath, waiting to see if he would. Then, without saying anything, he pushed his chair back, threw a wad of cash on the table and took her arm.

Guess that’s a yes.

“I would say your room or mine, but frankly, I’m not sure I’m even going to make it past the elevator,” he admitted.

Her legs shook and every feminine part of her softened with need at the sound of desperation in his voice. Because it was matched by her own. “The first private spot will be fine.”

As luck would have it, however, there was no private spot between them and the elevator. In fact, to Lauren’s extreme consternation, as soon as they left the lounge, they ran into several people from their class, who had left the dinner and were now heading out to sample the various entertainments Celebrations had to offer.

Everyone begged her and Seth to join them, but Lauren had a much different celebration in mind. The reunion she was looking forward to would happen in a bed—his or hers, it didn’t matter which—and would involve sultry pleasure and a long night filled with passion.

Or so she hoped.

God, what if it’s no good? What if he’s no good?

Scratch that. He’d be good. She had no doubt of it.

But what if he thought she was no good?

Suddenly feeling doubts, she let her feet drag as their former class president, Roseanne something, who had also been one of Seth’s old flames, stepped right into their path. The woman hadn’t changed much—still rich, still beautiful, apparently still a raging bitch.