Chapter 8
8
In the twelve hours since Bernie's call the night before, Lauren had been trying to wrap her mind around the fact that she and Ben would be working together for the next three weeks on pretty much a daily basis...and who knew how much longer after that if the series got picked up. In fact, since the phone call, she’d been doing nothing but trying to get used to the idea—not even sleeping.
However, as she headed to the first production meeting, she felt confident. She knew that no one would be able to see her sleepless night when they looked at her. She was dressed impeccably, as always, every hair in place, makeup subtle and perfect. The picture of professionalism.
She pulled up to Mountain Ridge, where the production team was temporarily renting Justin and Amanda's conference room, and walked in, taking her seat. The director was already there, as were a couple of producers and a PA in front of a laptop, poised to take notes.
About thirty seconds after Lauren took her seat, as she was still saying her hellos and accepting her congratulations, Ben walked in. In contrast to her supremely professional attire, he was decked out in jeans and a sweatshirt.
Lauren did a double take. On one level, she was shocked and appalled that he would come dressed so casually to a professional meeting. In her mind, it reflected poorly not only on him, but on the real estate profession as a whole.
On a completely different level, she couldn't stop thinking about how damn hot he looked in those jeans.
Lauren covered her reaction as quickly as she could and pasted on a smile. She stood and extended her hand cordially, wanting to start things off between them on the correct professional footing, but he smiled broadly and pulled her in for a hug. This caused her to flush—and not only in her cheeks.
They both took their seats as the meeting began.
The director, Paul Groves, stood up and smiled warmly. "Hi, everyone," he began. "I'm sure you all know who I am, but let me just start this meeting off by introducing myself. I'm Paul and I'll be directing this pilot. I want to thank everyone for their dedication and support for this project, which is what's gotten it this far and will hopefully ensure its success far into the future. I would also like to offer our congratulations and extend a warm welcome to our new co-host, Lauren Harrison."
The room erupted in a round of enthusiastic applause, Ben's the most enthusiastic of all, Lauren was surprised to see.
When they died down, Paul continued. "We're shooting this on a tight schedule. Just three weeks. It will involve three location shoots."
At these words, a PA left his laptop and grabbed a stack of papers, which he started to hand out.
"Jimmy is passing out your itineraries. We're going to be based out of Hope Falls three days per week and on location for two—a travel day and a shoot day.
"You'll notice that your itinerary is only for the first week of shooting. When we see what kinks need to be worked out, we'll set the schedule for the second and third week. Call times are on the last sheet. Any questions?"
Paul looked around the room, as did Lauren. She was shocked to see that no one was even really paying attention at this point. They looked almost bored, as if this were all completely standard stuff. In fact, it seemed as if, to them, the invitation for questions were merely a formality, and it was a foregone conclusion that no one would be asking any. The meeting attendees were already stuffing itineraries into messenger bags and backpacks as they got up, pushing their chairs in, chatting with each other companionably, assuming that the meeting was already dismissed.
Lauren, however, had a million questions, and she raised her hand.
"Excuse me," she said, pulling out her pen and flipping open a notebook. "I have some things I'm unclear on."
The people in the room looked at her, shocked, some of them even scowling. It was clear that they had no desire to sit in a continuing meeting while she asked a bunch of rookie questions.
Ben smiled at them. "You guys go ahead and go," he said amiably. "I'll make sure that Lauren is up to speed on anything she needs to know."
The crew smiled in relief and scurried out of the room.
Lauren turned to Ben, annoyance flashing in her eyes. "Hey," she said. "What are you doing? It’s not up to you to decide whether or not I get to ask any questions."
Ben looked sincerely apologetic. "I'm sorry," he quickly explained. "I realize it must’ve come off that way. But you've got to remember, I know these people. I know them well enough to be certain that making them sit in a meeting while they hear answers to questions that they already know backwards and forwards when they have a crushing workload waiting for their attention... Well, it's just not the best way to make a good first-day impression."
Lauren opened her mouth reflexively to argue, which seemed to be her default position with Ben, but before she spoke even one syllable, she realized that he was, in fact, right.
"You've got a point," she said only slightly begrudgingly.
Ben adopted an exaggerated faux-surprised expression. "What is this?" he asked in a high voice, playing up his shocked tone for effect. "Lauren Harrison is admitting that I'm right?"
"Funny. You’re funny. Maybe you should consider a third profession as a comedian," she said dryly, but with a smile. A genuine one.
Ben chuckled warmly. "I’ll take that under consideration," he said, "but first, we have a wardrobe fitting starting in about five minutes. And if we're gonna make it on time, we'd better get going."
They stood and Lauren followed Ben up to the small cabin that production had also rented and turned into a makeshift wardrobe department.
As they made the short trek, she realized that it hadn't even occurred to her that she wouldn't just be wearing her own clothes on the shoots—although, now that she thought of it, she realized that was ridiculous. The producers would want to control every visual aspect of the show, including—and maybe especially—what the hosts were wearing.
She wondered how many other aspects there were of her new job that she had never, before this moment, given any thought to whatsoever.
When they reached the front door of the wardrobe cabin, Ben opened it and gestured for Lauren to go on in ahead of him.
She smiled. "Chivalry isn't dead," she said, impressed.
"It may be on life support," Ben laughed, "but definitely not dead yet. Especially not when I'm around. I'm an old-fashioned guy."
Lauren walked into the cabin and gasped. She couldn't believe the sheer amount of beautiful, sophisticated clothing she saw before her. She moved forward and reverently touched the garments. She was amazed; racks upon racks of clothing in her size, in her preferred style, even. Gorgeous clothing.
She was flabbergasted, honestly, that they’d been able to amass such an impressive amount of carefully selected stunning items in such a short amount of time.
"Wow," said Lauren in awe. "Am I really going to wear all of these clothes on the show?"
Just then, two cheerful, middle-aged women popped up from behind the racks. One of them said, "Hey there! You must be Lauren!"
This startled Lauren so badly that she gasped and stumbled backward, running straight into Ben.
The two women laughed heartily and walked over to Lauren.
"Sorry to scare you sweetheart," said the one who had not yet spoken. "Wasn't intentional!"
Even though they were laughing, Lauren could feel the warmth coming from them and never for a minute got the sense that they were laughing at her, but rather that the laughter was just part of their personalities.
Ben said, "Come on now, ladies. Lauren's probably scared enough as it is, this being her first day and all. You need to give her a heart attack on top of everything else?"
He turned to Lauren and made introductions, gesturing to each woman in turn as he said their names. "Lauren, meet Marlene and Barbara, two of the best wardrobe mistresses you'll ever meet. They work on Home Sweet Home , and we were lucky enough to be able to snag them for Home Sweet Vacation Home as well."
Barbara stuck out her hand to shake Lauren's, saying enthusiastically, "Lucky enough to get us… Are you kidding me? We feel lucky to be dressing a woman for a change! No offense, Ben, but men's clothes can get pretty boring compared to women's."
"Agreed," said Marlene. "Now, come on over here, sweetheart, and we'll get you started."
Marlene briskly led Lauren over to the side of the room where the majority of the women’s clothing was hanging, and Barbara took Ben over to the men’s side.
"What are we doing?" asked Lauren.
"Oh, honey, we need to try the outfits on you!" Marlene said. "Figure out if they're gonna need tailoring, see how the colors look against your skin—all of that."
Lauren looked around. "Where are we going to change?" she asked.
This brought a fresh round of laughter from both of the women and Ben.
"No time for modesty, hon," said Marlene. "Trust me. I've seen it all anyway."
Lauren's eyes widened, but she didn't want to make the same mistake she almost made in the meeting, which was to make a spectacle of herself and make enemies on her very first day, so she went along with the program. As uncomfortable as she was undressing in front of strangers—and, deep breath, especially in front of Ben!—she figured that the best way to handle it would be to just take emotion out of the equation.
So, refusing to let any shock show in her face or demeanor beyond her initial widening of eyes, she turned to Marlene and said briskly, "Okay, sounds good. Where can I hang my things?"
Marlene looked impressed and turned to where Ben was standing. "Hmmm..." she said. "I like this one. She gets with the program. Not like the two hours of arguing we had to do with you!"
Ben blushed and, in a clear attempt to downplay, said, "I think that's a slight exaggeration."
Barbara and Marlene looked at each other for a moment and then both shook their heads.
"Nah," Barbara agreed. "It was a good two hours, maybe more."
Lauren smiled, feeling inside that she had won a small victory, but not a victory over Ben. This wasn't a competition. It was a victory over the hurdles she would be facing while acclimating to this new job.
She had to keep reminding herself that of course Ben seemed very comfortable with the routines and the logistics of hosting the show; he'd been doing it for a few years now. She couldn't make the mistake of feeling bad about herself because she was comparing her current performance, on the very first day, with Ben's seasoned and expert proficiency. As much as Lauren hated to admit it, because she wanted to be the best at everything right out of the gate, she knew that there would be a learning curve.
The fact that she now knew that there was one obstacle she had overcome significantly quicker than Ben initially gave her confidence that eventually she could be as good at this—if not better—than he was.
Lauren smiled to herself. Because of her competitive nature, there was always going to be an 'if not better' inserted. That was just how she was.
Lauren turned her back to Ben and began to disrobe. She heard the rustling of fabric behind her and realized that he must be doing the same. She felt a flush start to creep up her cheeks, and she wished that she could control her physiological reactions with the power of her mind.
Hey, maybe I can , she thought to herself. Let me give it a try .
Do not get red-faced thinking about Ben naked. Do not get red-faced thinking about Ben naked. She paused for a moment to see if it had had any effect, taking stock of the sensations on her face.
Nope. She could still feel heat slowly rising on her cheeks. So much for mind over matter.
After Lauren got over her initial reticence about being scantily clad in front of strangers—and in front of Ben—she found that she enjoyed the wardrobe fitting immensely.
As it progressed, she completely saw what Marlene meant about there being no time for modesty. They powered through outfits at an extremely rapid pace, Marlene helping her step into and out of trousers and pulling them up, holding shirts and jackets behind her as she slid her arms in.
As soon as one outfit was reasonably well in place, Marlene would take a quick Polaroid of it and pin it up to a corkboard—and just that quickly, they were on to the next.
On Ben's side of the room, Barbara was doing the same.
"What are the Polaroids for?" Lauren asked.
"Oh, those are so Barbara and I can sit later and strategize which outfits will look the best in the scene and next to each other," Marlene explained. "We'll shuffle them like playing cards and decide what our top pairings are. When we get it all settled, we'll chart it out and pack the clothes up, using the Polaroids to label which garment bag has which outfit."
"Wow. That’s quite an impressive system," Lauren said.
"Yep," Marlene agreed. "It serves us well."
Lauren could not believe how much behind-the-scenes work went into producing a television show, even a reality television show. It was a gigantic collaboration involving the talents and labors of many people. It was something she had never realized or respected before, but she was beginning to now.
As Barbara and Marlene hustled Ben and Lauren in and out of outfits, Lauren couldn’t help but sneak glances over at Ben, and in spite of her best intentions, she found herself admiring his well-muscled chest and six-pack abs.
In fact—again in spite of her best intentions—she actually found herself getting a little hot and bothered by the sight and proximity of a nearly naked Ben Stevens.
“Marlene,” Ben asked at one point, “is your son home from Afghanistan yet?”
“Two more months,” said Marlene sadly, but then she brightened. “I do get to Skype with him quite a bit. So that's a plus. I don't know how the wives and mothers of soldiers did it before that kind of technology, waiting weeks on end for letters to show up. I'd go absolutely nuts.”
“True,” Ben agreed. “But still. I bet you and James are counting down the days.”
“Fifty seven,” Marlene confirmed, and there was something so poignant in that—in her immediate recitation of the specific amount of days—that Lauren got a little misty even though she barely knew this woman.
Lauren felt her perspective on who Ben was shifting yet again. Remembering that Marlene's son was in Afghanistan, recalling her husband's name, caring about both of those things—this was not something that fit with the idea of Ben that she had in her mind. Was it possible that her concept of ‘Ben’–a Ben that was self-involved and entitled—was not the whole story and maybe not even what he was like at all?
It made her uncomfortable to think that she could’ve misjudged him so utterly and so quickly.
She wasn't yet entirely sold on the idea that she’d been wrong about Ben, but even the possibility of that made her feel unsettled.
During the entire three-hour fitting, Lauren tried to take advantage of small moments, little breaks, like when Marlene was pinning a Polaroid to the corkboard or when the two had to stop for thirty seconds to confer about small details, to try to somewhat keep up with the emails that were coming in on her phone at an alarming rate.
All she had time to do was scan them and reply to the most urgent ones. She noticed that Ben was doing the same thing.
At one point, she turned to him with a slightly frazzled smile and asked, "Is it always like this?"
Ben gave her a small half smile and a wink. “Nah,” he reassured her.
“Oh, that's good,” Lauren said with relief.
“Sometimes it's actually busy,” he clarified with a rascally twinkle in his eye.
Lauren laughed at this joke, which she’d left herself wide open for, and then said, “Well. Good thing I'm an excellent multitasker.”
--- ~ ---
Torture. Pure, unadulterated torture. That's what this wardrobe fitting was for Ben.
Watching Lauren continue to be dressed and undressed, trying to keep his physical reaction to her under control—oh, yes, it was the sweetest torture he could possibly imagine.
What made it worse—and better—was that the longer the fitting went on, the less inhibited and more comfortable she seemed to become.
As Lauren slipped slacks on and off, he saw her legs—slim, toned, but undeniably strong. She was wearing a delicate, peach-lace bra-and-panties set, which made him smile. Leave it to Lauren to be dressed to the nines right down to her skivvies when she didn't even know that anyone would be seeing them that day. He wouldn't have expected any less of her.
But the reaction they were causing in him wasn’t a smiling matter. That pastel-peach color had him firing on all cylinders in a way that even an in-your-face, overtly sexy color like black or fire-engine red wouldn't have. It was so feminine, so close to her own skin tone, that he felt almost as if he were getting a preview of what Lauren Harrison must look like naked—and that was definitely not an experience he was prepared to have without sprouting some major wood.
And therein lay the problem. Not only did Ben wish to conceal his visceral, physical, sexual reaction to Lauren's beauty and state of undress from Lauren herself, but he wasn't exactly crazy about the idea of showing off his boner to Barbara and Marlene either—women he’d known for three years, whom he thought of as surrogate aunts.
Yes, that would definitely be a supremely uncomfortable situation.
Normally, wardrobe fittings were one of Ben's favorite days. He loved the wardrobe mistresses. Barbara and Marlene were two of his favorite people in the world. They were hilarious. During the three years he’d worked on the show, he’d grown very close to both them and their families.
But, today, all he could think about was Lauren. Lauren and her beautiful body. Lauren and what it would be like to make love to her.
And it wasn't just her body that was sending Ben into a frenzy of barely controlled arousal. It was also her manner. He’d never seen her this easy and assured. He loved watching her interact with Barbara and Marlene. He was impressed with the way she seemed to so quickly get used to being poked and prodded, pulled at and adjusted. At first, he hadn't been sure if she would be able to handle it. It wasn't an easy transition to make at your very first wardrobe fitting, especially if you walked in not knowing what was in store for you.
He was learning that Lauren Harrison was adaptable to pretty much any situation, a survival-of-the-fittest, adapt-or-die kind of girl, and he loved that. She kept surprising him, and he liked that too.
He smirked grimly to himself.
Too bad she wasn't his type.