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good guy. He had real feelings, and Lauren never wanted to hurt him or make him think the wrong thing. She’d had the time of her life. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. Now, Mark seemed like a bad dream. In fact, when she pictured her now ex-boyfriend’s potato-white ass in the air and the look of stark terror on the blonde bimbette’s face when the door of his apartment flew open, she wanted to laugh. If only she’d thought to whip out her cell phone and snap a picture of Mark’s posterior for posterity. What a Christmas card it would make—a big snowy moon hung with dangling red balls…
    She almost spit out her iced tea.
    “Are you all right, hon?” Tara asked.
    “Fine, just thinking about something funny.” It hadn’t been at all funny yesterday, though. She sobered. How could she have gotten over it so quickly? “Really. What should I do? Should I just have brunch with him on Sunday like nothing happened or should I call him up tonight and talk to him?”
    “He said for you to call him, didn’t he?” Tara asked.
    Lauren nodded. She’d tried twice from her office, but her stomach felt so knotted each time she’d picked up the phone, she’d ended up just scurrying off to the bathroom to splash water on her face.
    “Then call him. Tell him he was phenomenal and any time he wants to do it again, you’re available. Why not take advantage? Mark’s history.
    Eric’s not dating anyone right now. What have you got to lose?” Roxy’s words seemed so logical. It all made sense.
    “What have I got to lose?” she asked her friends. They shrugged and smiled, but in her head Lauren heard the answer.
    Eric.
    •
    She’d made the bed, Eric noted when he got home that evening. The navy spread was stretched so tight he considered trying to bounce a quarter off it.
    The bathroom was spotless and he wondered if she’d taken a shower before she left. Had she stood naked before the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door? Had she wrapped her supple, magnificently responsive body in one of his towels?
    Had she called? He gave the answering machine next to the bed a skeptical glance.
    Two messages. He tried to maintain nonchalance as he hit the playback button. The first message was an automated sales call, followed by his sister Clarice’s cheery voice.
    “Hi, Uncle Eric. I’m just calling to remind you that Jeremy’s birthday is Sunday at noon at Mr. Mouse’s Pizzeria on Route One. He’s looking forward to beating you at Whack-A-Mole, so take your vitamins! Love ya!”
    Eric lowered himself to the bed and sighed. His nephew’s birthday party had completely skipped his mind. Thank goodness for Clarice, the paragon of efficiency. He would have hated himself for disappointing the tow-headed five-year-old who called him “Unca Eric”.
    Brunch with Lauren. Sunday.
    Under normal circumstances, he would have thought nothing of bringing her to the party. She loved Jeremy. His sister and bother-in-law, Andy, had asked him more than once why he wasn’t romantically involved with his best friend.
    Now, after last night, what would she think of lunch with Mr. Mouse?
    Would it be the same between them? He’d wanted to take her someplace fancy and romantic and suggest that perhaps they cap off a fine meal with an afternoon of hot sex, not a roll in the ball pit and a half-melted slice of ice cream cake.
    Of course, that assumed she’d still speak to him, and that Lawyer Boy hadn’t hunted him down by then and flattened him.
    Bad Eric said to hell with it. Call the girl. Tell her you want her body.
    Now. Under you, begging you to make her come . He had, after all, foolishly stopped at the drugstore on the way home to pick up a twelve pack of ribbed Trojans. He wondered if they’d disintegrate from old age before he even opened the box.

Chapter Six
    Black teddy? Pink teddy? White lace thong and matching bra? White lace thong and no bra?
    Lauren paced before her open underwear drawer, naked and damp