Thirteen Hours Page 2

  “I did not,” Dana responded. “I was just wondering what the hell you were doing in my lap. I was too shocked to even react at first.”

  “Well, I’m sorry if I offended you. In fact, I’m sorry I ever took this stupid job.” Laurel swiped the back of her hand over her cheek, sniffling.

  Dana felt her stomach drop. “Are you crying?” She swallowed against the lump of pure dread that was lodged in her throat. “Please don’t tell me you’re about to start crying.”

  “I’m not crying,” Laurel responded, a little too quickly. She brushed the back of her hand over her eyes again, straightening up where she sat slumped against the wall. “I’m just great. Trapped in an elevator on a Friday night with nothing to do but get called a whore by a woman who can’t stand me…nowhere near the cat, the book, and the bathtub I was dreaming about enjoying tonight. Why wouldn’t I be just fucking fantastic?”

  This pronouncement left Dana feeling, all of a sudden, like the biggest asshole on the planet. Great, she thought, running her fingers through her hair. Just great. At a loss, she tried hard to pry her foot from her mouth.

  “I’m sorry, Laurel. Really.” She tried to explain what had incited her cutting remark. “I just didn’t know why you said what you did… you know, about looking at me in the mirror.”

  Laurel gazed at her for several seconds not saying a word. Finally, she murmured, “I said it because you’re a physically attractive woman.”

  She paused. “Despite your wholly unattractive personality.”

  Dana felt the quiet comment like a punch to the chest. “Oh.” She didn’t know what else to say. She looked down at her hands. I love this girl. Forty-six minutes with her and I realize I’m the biggest jerk alive.

  “You’re forgiven,” Laurel said.

  Tears of frustration pricked at Dana’s eyes and she lowered her head to hide them from her companion. She wasn’t the kind of woman who buckled under pressure.

  She thought they weren’t talking again until Laurel said, “You really thought your friend would pay someone to have sex with you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t seem the type to appreciate a gesture like that.”

  Dana looked up. “I’m not.”

  “Then why would a friend do something like that for you?” Laurel appeared to have a genuine interest in the answer, and Dana could detect no malice in her eyes.

  She was briefly tempted to explore that question, but it had already been a long day. “I don’t know,” she said. “A guy thing, maybe.”

  Laurel nodded as if accepting this thin rationale. “Well, it’s your birthday.” With a smile, she asked, “Wasn’t it a good day? I mean, other than the…strip-o-gram.”

  “No better than any other. I came, I worked, I got stuck in an elevator with a half-naked woman who makes me feel like an asshole.”

  “If you feel like an asshole, I’m sorry.” Laurel seemed to be struck by a thought, her gaze sharpening. “Is this whole getting-stuck-in-anelevator thing going to fuck up some big plans later tonight?”

  Dana thought again of her proposal and sighed. The “urgent” project was supposed to keep her from thinking too much about her solitary, boring birthday. A strategy Laurel and Scott had very ably ruined.

  “No,” she murmured. “No big plans. I was thinking about maybe catching a movie tomorrow, but I’m going to have to re-create the proposal that got interrupted.”

  “What do you mean, re-create it?”

  Dana raised her arm and gave an irritated wave at the emergency lights. “Power outage. I’m sure I hadn’t saved the file in quite some time, if my computer even survives the whole thing.”

  “Oh,” Laurel said. “Well, it’s not really my fault, you know. But… I hope you don’t have to redo everything.” She waited for Dana to respond, and when she didn’t, she asked, “What kind of proposal is it?”

  Dana struggled to figure out how to make the task sound as important as she suggested. “It’s for a software development project,” she said. “We want to sell our client some additional functionality to a piece of custom software we wrote for them. I want to get it e-mailed by Monday morning.”

  Laurel blinked. “You write software?”

  “No.” Dana chuckled and shook her head. “I manage the programmers who write the software. They make the application work, and I make them work.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “Yes, a lot.”

  “It sounds a little…boring. No offense, just not my thing.”

  Dana felt immediately defensive. “It’s a good job. It challenges me.” Unable to resist, she added, “Don’t tell me you can say that about your career.”

  Laurel maintained a polite smile. “It’s not my career, not that it’s any of your business. And I guess the best thing about my job is all the great people I meet.” She shot Dana a meaningful smirk. “Like you.”

  “And the opportunity to make money without relying on any real skill,” Dana sniped back. God, why did she find it so easy to get into it with this woman? “Coasting through life, courtesy of your perfect breasts.”

  Laurel tilted her head to the side. “You think they’re perfect?”

  Dana blushed hard and sought to retract her careless revelation.

  “To tell you the truth, I really didn’t pay much attention.”

  Laurel laughed out loud. “Uh-huh. That’s why I still have scorch marks on my skin from where your eyes were burning into me.”

  “You’re imagining things.” Dana scowled.

  “If you say so.”

  Refusing to admit to her intense fascination with the stripper’s chest, Dana decided to pull out the big guns. “I’m not a lesbian.”

  Laurel’s smile gave way to a look of shock. “What?”

  Shifting in discomfort at Laurel’s obvious surprise, Dana repeated, “I’m not a lesbian. Your breasts are irrelevant to me.”

  “Huh.” Laurel frowned. “So why the hell did Scott hire me to dance for you?”

  “Trust me,” Dana said, “I plan on asking him that very question first thing tomorrow morning. As soon as we get out of here.”

  “So, do you have a boyfriend?” Laurel asked in a careful voice.

  “No.” Dana didn’t elaborate. Eager to shift the attention away from herself, she asked, “Do you?”

  Laurel broke into a wide grin, showing Dana her white teeth. “No. I am a lesbian.”

  Dana’s throat went dry. “Oh.” How was she constantly left speechless by this woman?

  “Does that bother you?” Laurel asked.

  Something in her knowing smile rankled Dana. She thought hard before answering, torn between revealing her turbulent emotions and keeping the peace. “No more than anything else about you bothers me.”

  Laurel snickered. “Don’t worry, I won’t hold your sexuality against you, either.”

  “I appreciate that.” Dana managed a half-smile.

  “See?” Laurel murmured. “I told you I wasn’t such a bad conversationalist.”

  Dana tipped her head in acknowledgment. “Better than sitting in here in complete silence all night long, that’s for sure.”

  “You never know. By tomorrow morning, we might actually be friends.”

  Dana rolled her eyes. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. It’s going to be a long night. Anything could happen.”

  At that, Laurel folded her arms over her stomach, hugging her body. Her expression seemed almost hopeful, and a little shy. “You’re right. Absolutely anything could happen.”

  Dana could only wonder what the next twelve hours would bring.

  Hopefully no more tears.

  HOUR THREE—9:00 P.M.

  What are you doing?”

  “Dreaming of escape.” Dana studied the square metal hatch above their heads. “Think if I lifted you up there, you could pop that thing open?”

  “No way,” Laurel answered without hesitation. “Not a chance. You’re not getting this Mrs. Rosen t
o climb up the Christmas tree.”

  Dana recognized the reference immediately. The Poseidon Adventure…one of her all-time favorites. Her estimation of Laurel increased a notch, almost against her will. Dropping her gaze, she felt a nervous little flip-flopping in her belly. She gave Laurel a teasing smile.

  “Where’s your spirit of adventure?”

  “Probably at home with my book, my cat, and my bathtub,” Laurel said with an impatient snort. “I refuse to climb up there. We’re not on a sinking ship. It won’t hurt us to stay right where we are and wait for help.”

  “It hurts my productivity,” Dana protested. Once again, she raised longing eyes to the ceiling.

  “Listen, I’m not going to go all disaster movie with you for the sake of some stupid proposal,” Laurel replied firmly. “I’ve always said that I would be the first character to die if I were in one of those films. I’m convinced of it, in fact. I’m just not that clever or tenacious…or lucky, and my life is more important than your getting to work another Friday night.”

  “Important to whom?” Dana muttered.

  “Use this time to relax.” Laurel’s expression softened into a cajoling smile. “I promise to try and keep you entertained.”

  “Will this entertainment involve bad music and naked dancing?”

  “Only if you ask nicely.” She paused. “Technically, your half hour was up two hours ago.”

  Dana shook her head. The back of her neck felt hot with renewed embarrassment. “How much did that little performance set Scott back?”

  Laurel clicked her tongue and gave Dana a look of mild disapproval. “Now, that’s between Scott and me. If you want to know, you can ask him.”

  “I’ll do that if we ever get out of here.”

  “I thought cell phones worked inside elevators,” Laurel said. Hers lay on the floor between them, discarded when she couldn’t get a signal.

  “Technology. I bet you feel naked without it right now, don’t you?”

  Dana managed a sheepish nod. “Yeah. I think it’s like a security blanket for me at this point. I feel really…vulnerable without my computer.”

  “I’m the same way.” Laurel held up her hands, shaking them in exaggerated trembling. “I’m already getting twitchy at the thought of not checking my e-mail for the next twelve hours.”

  “My inbox tends to slow down on the weekends.” Dana allowed a self-deprecating grin. “You wouldn’t believe how many people take a break from work on Saturday and Sunday.”

  “Well, I get some school-related e-mails, but most are personal, especially during the weekends. So I check all the time.”

  She never would’ve taken Laurel for a computer geek, Dana mused. E-mail and The Poseidon Adventure. She was full of surprises.

  “I don’t do all that much personal e-mail. Just the usual family stuff to Mom and Dad.”

  “Where do they live?”

  “Royal Oak.”

  “Do you have brothers and sisters?”

  “One brother. Younger. Last time I checked, he’s still practically living at home with my parents.”

  “I don’t have any siblings, but I always thought that would have been fun,” Laurel said. “I’ve got a few really good friends all over the world. Online friends, you know. I’m not—” Inexplicably, she blushed.

  “I’m not the kind of person who goes out a lot to the bars or anything. My closest friends tend to be the ones I meet online. The friendship is more focused on communicating with each other rather than distracting ourselves with food and alcohol.”

  The realization that she’d stereotyped Laurel made Dana feel stupid with shame. She had no idea who this woman was, but she’d insulted her anyway. Wanting to make up for her insensitivity, she tried to take an interest in Laurel’s online hobby. “So…where are some of the places your friends live?”

  “Australia.” Laurel seemed happy they were finally just talking like new acquaintances. “France. Oh, and sometimes I e-mail this really interesting woman in Portugal.”

  Dana tried to imagine becoming friendly with a virtual stranger, someone she had never seen before in real life. Hell, she could barely manage making friends face-to-face, let alone separated by miles of ocean. Scott was her friend because they had grown up together more than anything else.

  “What do you talk about?” she asked.

  “God, anything. What’s going on in our lives. Our worries, our fears. Politics, religion, current events. Sex.” Laurel paused to shoot her a wolfish grin. “Always sex.”

  Dana could feel the blush creep across her face, an unstoppable attack on her composure. Hesitating for only a moment, she asked, “Like…cybersex?”

  Laurel laughed long and hard at the tentative question. “No, we just talk about what we enjoy, who we want, what we’d like to try. What we’ve fantasized about.”

  Dana felt incredibly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken. Still, she couldn’t resist one last question.

  “Have you ever had cybersex before?”

  “Oh, sure,” Laurel said, waving a dismissive hand. “On occasion. Usually when I’m feeling pretty desperate and masturbation alone just isn’t going to cut it for me. It’s okay, but not nearly as fun as the real thing. You know?” Almost as an afterthought, she said, “Have you tried it?”

  Though there was no real reason for her to blush after Laurel’s revelation, Dana’s face was on fire. “Yeah. Once or twice.”

  “I had cybersex with a man once,” Laurel said. “Just to see what it would be like. I’ll tell you what, if men are half as bad in bed as this guy was with the keyboard, I’m confident that I’m not missing a damn thing.”

  Dana shrugged. “Probably not.” She’d had one-time encounters with both men and women online. The men tended to bore her to death with their crude phrasing and rampant misspellings. Not to mention all the penis talk.

  “So are they as bad in bed as they are online?” Laurel asked.

  Dana thought about Jason Lewis, her first and only boyfriend.

  “Sometimes.”

  “You don’t like talking about sex, do you?” Laurel’s friendly gaze seemed full of regret, and perhaps a little pity.

  Dana looked down at her lap, desperate for a way to send their conversation in a different direction and coming up totally blank. After a period of awkward silence, she asked, “Do you think we could change the subject?”

  “Sure.” Laurel stretched one long leg out, scooting away from the wall to poke at one of Dana’s feet with the tip of her shoe. “Whatever’s going to make you happy, birthday girl. So what do you want to talk about instead?”

  Inevitably, Dana’s mind refused to budge from thoughts of sex—ideally with Laurel. She imagined latching her lips onto one of the fat nipples she had seen earlier, sucking hard at the rosy pink flesh. Jesus, get a grip. She cleared her throat.

  “What book were you going to read tonight?” She winced at the way her voice squeaked at the non sequitur. In the bathtub. Naked.

  Laurel hid a toothy grin behind her hand. “Not a very good attempt at changing the topic, I’m afraid. It was a collection of lesbian erotica.”

  My God, she’s sex obsessed. Dana shook her head. “So, I’m trapped in an elevator with a lesbian nymphomaniac.”

  “I can think of worse things to have happen on a Friday night,” Laurel retorted. “And I wouldn’t consider myself a nymphomaniac. Just in possession of a very healthy—though underutilized, not that it’s any of your business—sex drive.”

  “Well, as long as you keep that healthy sex drive on your side of the elevator, we’ll be fine.” Dana regretted the words as soon as she saw the quiet hurt in Laurel’s eyes. Yes, Laurel, the moment you think I might be okay, I’ll make damn sure you know I’m a jerk.

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” Laurel muttered.

  Shit, Dana thought. She’d only wanted to steer the conversation away from sex, not alienate her only company for the long night.

  Strug
gling to push past her own verbal gaffe, she quickly plucked another topic out of her memories of their chat so far. “So you’re in school?”

  “Yes, at Michigan State.”

  “What are you studying?”

  “Veterinary medicine. I’m graduating in six months.”

  That one stopped Dana cold. As much as she almost couldn’t believe it, she was deeply impressed. And she felt very silly recalling her derogatory remarks to Laurel about not understanding what it felt like to be successful. “Wow. Uh, your cat Isis must be very proud of you, huh?”

  Laurel’s smile crinkled her nose in the most adorable way. “Except when I practice on her.”

  “Your parents must be proud, too.” It was a blatant attempt to fish for more information, but Dana didn’t care. She had a strange desire to find out which of her many assumptions were wrong.

  Laurel lost her sunny expression, though the corners of her mouth remained turned up in a wistful smile. “My mother is very proud, yes.”

  Not your father? Dana didn’t ask the obvious question, afraid to create awkwardness. Instead, she forced herself to say what was long overdue. “I owe you an apology, you know.”

  “I know,” Laurel answered. “For what?”

  Dana grumbled internally. A part of her was pleased, though. She almost liked that Laurel wouldn’t let her get away with anything. “I apologize for the comments I made about the whole stripping thing. Assuming that it was your career and everything.”

  Laurel gave her a solemn nod. “Even if it was, I didn’t deserve to be treated like that. I know plenty of girls who strip for a living and, believe it or not, they really are decent human beings.”

  “Point taken.” Dana’s head had started to ache, deep and steady.

  The pain was subtle, but she sensed that this one could escalate. “I was upset,” she said, thoroughly chastened. “I was trying to hurt you.”

  “So you don’t really think I’m just some cheap stripper?” Laurel’s eyes twinkled.

  “No.” Dana stared down at the ugly patterned carpeting on the elevator floor. Remembering the perfect breasts she had insisted Laurel cover up, she added, “I would imagine that you’re top of the line, actually.”