What I Miss About You

Honey - Ben

We stopped for lunch at a diner. We were only about another an hour away from Dr. Heinrich's estate but we had both skipped breakfast and both agreed we were starving. The debate continued over omelets and even more coffee.

"You probably don't recall," Natalie was saying as she added cream and sugar to her coffee, "the time I interviewed that very difficult Broadway actress, Olivia Hamilton."

I nodded. "Of course. I recall that well. It was great."

She seemed taken aback as she looked at me. "Oh. Thanks," she said as if she was surprised at the praise. "Well, she was a hard nut to crack. Remember the one thing everyone wanted to know was what went on that night she had that huge fight with her director. And later on she came out and gave the performance of her life."

I was cutting into my omelet with the side of my fork. "She told you it was note he gave her...some notes about her performance."

Natalie gave a secret smile before taking a sip of her coffee. "Yes and no. Actually it was the note that set her off. It had nothing to do with why she was so brilliant that night." She smirked. "And I got that information out of her. Not by being a human battering ram. But by flattering her, taking her to lunch, going shopping and helping her pick out a Hermes scarf..."

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. 

"It's true!" she insisted, leaning across the table towards me. "And what didn't make it into that article was that she and he exchanged more than words in her dressing room. But she told me that off the record."

I have to admit I was speechless. I had not known about this. "You're saying that he and she..."

Natalie was tight lipped however, a little smile of triumph on her face. "Off the record, Ben," she replied. "My point is a little flattery goes a long ways." She gestured at me with her small hand. "You've done it..."

I was still stunned at this revelation of hers. But I frowned at her. "When have I ever done that? I don't go in for all that bowing and scraping like you do, Natalie."

She pointed her finger at me and grinned Actually grinned. It was beautiful. "Yes you do!" she cried. "I've watched you do it! Don't tell me that wasn't you flirting with Chelsea Clinton at that press dinner when her mother had just announced her intention to run for president."

I turned my face away in dismissal. "Oh that was different!"

"How, Ben?" Natalie probed. Her warm hazel eyes were more green now, a phenomenon that I knew only happened when she was fired up. "Because she's a woman?"

I stared at her for a few moments, trying to think of a retort. All I could come up with was, "Your problem is sometimes you lay the honey on too thick, Natty."

She dropped her eyes to her plate and began pushing her eggs around with her fork. "That's an evasion," she muttered. 

"Ok," I said, holding my hands up palms towards her in surrender. "You have a point there. But let's not pretend that it's not easier to flatter women. They respond to that better than men do."

Natalie dropped her fork. "Seriously, Ben?"

I folded my arms and looked at her smugly. I knew I was being a dick but I missed this provocation and friction that had once existed between us. A red flag warned me I was probably on treacherous ground but I ignored it. 

A small smile touched her lips. "Care to prove that?" she asked, arching a brow.

Oh. This was definitely intriguing. Competition fired us both and she knew it. My eyes drifted down over the clinging, form-fitting shirt she wore beneath her leather jacket. Damn. I bit my lower lip and tried to stop the carnal thoughts that immediately raced through my mind. I flicked my gaze back up to hers.