by Fiona Riley
“You look a little haunted there.” Hayley joined her at the monitor and added softly from behind Emerson’s shoulder, “Almost vulnerable.”
Emerson nodded and was quiet for a few moments. “It’s a beautifully candid shot.” She seemed lost in thought.
“What are you thinking about?” Hayley had an increasing desire to reach out and touch her.
Emerson turned her head and caught Hayley’s gaze. They were so close, she could feel the heat of Emerson’s body radiating onto her own. Her eyes were drawn to Emerson’s lips.
“That I have no doubt this will make the final spread, and I was contemplating vetoing it,” Emerson replied.
“Why?” Hayley asked but she had a feeling she already knew the answer. “Because of the rawness, right?”
“Mm.” Emerson gave her a tiny nod before she motioned between them. “But that’s what we’re here for, isn’t it? The naked truth.”
“It is.” Her eyes flicked back to Emerson’s lips again. They looked delicious.
“And what are you thinking about?” Emerson’s voice was barely a whisper when she turned Hayley’s question back to her.
Hayley bit her lip in response. The question caught her off guard. She was aware of the way Emerson’s eyes traced her face, as if watching to see her expression, taking stock of her reaction. “I…uh.”
“Mm-hmm.” Emerson gave her a knowing smile and Hayley stepped back. She needed to regain a little control.
“So, do you get to keep any of the clothes?” Hayley looked for something—anything—to busy her hands with. She picked up an empty water bottle near the monitor and fiddled with the label.
“Well, most of the wardrobe was yours this time around, so no. I did swipe a pair of those boy shorts, though.” She tapped her butt playfully. “But only because I’m pretty sure that bench gave me an ass splinter, and it was easier to leave them on than try to do surgery with fifteen people standing around back there.”
“Never in my life would I have anticipated spending my day knowing what kind of underwear you had on.” Hayley’s eyes widened when she realized that comment was said out loud.
“Let’s just call it even, then, since I find you taking off your shirt in my presence to be terribly distracting.” Emerson leaned close and took the glasses from Hayley’s pocket. She carefully slid them into position on Hayley’s face and grazed Hayley’s chin with her thumbs as she lowered her hands. “Now you don’t have to subtly check out my ass when I walk out of the room because you already know.” She paused and added, “Thanks again for the shirt.”
By the time Hayley realized she had crushed the bottle in her hands, Emerson was already gone. That didn’t just happen, right? There was no way Emerson was flirting with her. Not possible. She was obviously still jet-lagged.
She tossed the mangled plastic into the recycle bin nearby and exhaled slowly. “What am I getting myself into?”
Chapter Fourteen
The photo shoot had been long, but that didn’t bother Emerson as she’d thought it might. Maybe because Hayley was there to keep her company. And Hayley was good company. Very good. And a delicious distraction as well. She never got tired of being in Hayley’s presence, it seemed. She helped her feel relaxed and at ease, which was impossible these days given all that was going on with Rory.
Rory had FaceTimed her when she was changing out of Hayley’s clothes at the end of the shoot. The call had come at just the right time since it was really the only time she’d been alone at all that day. The conversation was short, but sweet. Rory had been really transparent about her feelings. Her biggest concern was that Emerson didn’t want her, and that’s why she gave up custody to Deidre. Emerson did her best to assure her that was as far from the truth as possible. She wanted Rory to have the best life, and that would only be possible with someone else. She seemed to understand, but Emerson had a feeling they would be discussing that again sometime soon, and she welcomed that.
The truth was, Rory had been at the forefront of her mind since her interaction with Wendy on the plane earlier. She’d been on her mind constantly anyway, but her heart had hurt watching Wendy walk away. It made her think of the relationship she had given up when she agreed to relinquish parental rights almost twelve years ago. She’d pushed those feelings aside for a long time, but now that the wound had been reopened, she realized she had some healing to do on her own still.
And that healing would come only with doing the one thing that she feared most: revealing the truth about Rory to the world and exposing her to its harsh scrutiny. Her only hope was to do as much damage control in the beginning as possible, and that would only happen if someone could help ease the narrative into the world. That person was Hayley. She just knew it in her gut. Hayley would be able to tell her story, she had to. Emerson needed her to. But first, Emerson had to tell her. And that made Emerson nervous because somewhere over the past several weeks, Hayley had become more than just a confidant. And she was quickly becoming more than just a friend. Because you didn’t have crushes on friends, right? And she was definitely crushing on Hayley these days. Big time.
Her mind was buzzing with thoughts of Rory and Hayley as she keyed into her hotel room, exhausted and ready for bed. Too bad her day was far from over.
Emerson hadn’t been in the hotel room more than fifteen minutes when her cell phone rang. She contemplated letting it go to voicemail. She was enjoying the quiet and knew she wouldn’t have it for much longer. She glanced at the clock. Her time was ticking away—the interviewer from The Improper Bostonian would be here any minute. The phone stopped buzzing and she smiled. The caller had made the decision for her. That was a relief. But it was short-lived, because the phone buzzed insistently again. She reached for it. Tremont was calling.
“Hello, darling,” she said as she looked in the backlit mirror of her bathroom vanity. This was great lighting. And her brief collapse on the bed for the ten seconds she had to herself revealed the incredibly comfortable bed. She made a note to mention that to Tremont. They should stay here every time they were in Boston. The concierge desk had signs all over it boasting that it was the preferred hotel of Boston’s Miss Match, whoever that was. She made another note to investigate this woman.
“Did the flight go okay?” He had genuine concern in his voice. She appreciated that.
“Actually, yes.” The flight had been fine, easy even. Hayley had been a great companion and Emerson had found the time flying—literally—in every sense of the word. She got the same safe feeling from Hayley that she got from Tremont. Well, sort of the same. But different, too. She’d had years to foster her relationship and trust with Tremont, but she could tell that it wouldn’t take as long with Hayley. She’d felt a connection to her, right off the bat. That’s why she took a chance on her. That’s why she was taking the risk.
“Good. Hayley didn’t do anything stupid, right? Because I like her, and I’d hate to have to have her killed,” Tremont said dramatically.
“No, she was perfect.” She thought back to when Hayley had fallen asleep on her shoulder and reached for her hand while she slept. Emerson hadn’t given a second thought to holding her hand and sinking lower in the seat to make sure she was comfortable. Nor had she felt the need to release her hand when she awoke. Something she’d been grateful for when the turbulence hit, and Hayley gently stroked her thigh to comfort her. She had felt comforted. And truthfully, a little turned on, too. Which was unexpected. So later, when Hayley’s fingers found hers during the tickle fight, she held them because it felt right. And because she missed the physical contact of another person. With everything that was going on in her head and in her life lately, she wanted more than anything to curl up with someone and feel loved. To feel important. To feel like she was more than a headline or a payday. Maybe that was asking too much. Maybe she was looking for something she couldn’t have.
“Perfect, huh?” Tremont asked.
“Yeah, perfect,” she replied without elaborat
ing. She wasn’t ready to talk about those thoughts yet.
“And the photo shoot?” he asked.
“Long, boring, unreasonably cold and nipple-y. The usual. We did something a little different last minute—tried a different look. I think you’ll like it.” She was sure he would approve. This was the kind of thing he encouraged in her, to take fashion risks. He was always right, even if she hated to admit it.
Tremont hummed. “I should get the preliminary prints in the next day or so. We can go over them together.”
“Great.” She loved talking to him, but she doubted he’d called to chitchat. “So, besides the fact that you missed me desperately and can’t live without being in my presence, I assume you called for a reason.”
“No flies on you, Em,” he teased. “Your interviewer is there. He’s waiting in the lobby.”
She dropped her head. It was time to go to work again. “You know, technically this ear infection is giving you some time off. You don’t need to man the phones and assist me from the left coast. I can manage myself for the day or two it takes for me to wrap up here.”
Tremont laughed. “No, you can’t. And absolutely not. The doctor cleared me to fly tomorrow. I’ll be there by midafternoon—”
“Tremont,” she argued, “I’m fine. Stay there. Rest. Get better. I’ll manage.”
“I love you, Emerson Sterling. I do. But you cannot manage yourself out there. You just can’t,” he replied.
Emerson was offended. “I can, too.”
“Do me a favor?”
“After that insult?” She was half teasing. Half.
“Go to the front door of your suite.” He paused. “Go on, I’ll wait.”
She sighed and walked back through the large bedroom toward the designated living room area. “Okay, I’m here. What now?”
“You’re at the door?” Tremont sounded skeptical.
She was by the coffee table but that was close enough. “I am.”
“You’re lying. I can tell by your voice.” He clearly had a spy camera set up. Or he was clairvoyant.
She pulled the phone away from her face and scoffed at it. “That’s creepy.”
“Go to the door, please.”
“Fine.” She walked to it and waited. “Now what?”
“Is the security bolt on?” She could tell by the sound of the smile in his voice that he already knew the answer.
“Shut up, Tremont.” She slid the security lock closed and turned back toward the living room area.
“Someone could have stolen you, and I would be forced to sell my gorgeous body to pay rent. You need me to remember things like locking the door and your credit card information if you want to buy lady porn after hours.”
“I’ll just charge all that to the room, duh.” She flopped on the couch and dropped her head back onto the cushion. They both knew that Francis was on the job, somewhere out there, and would ensure no one would break into her room, but the lady porn thing was a valid point.
“I expect nothing less,” Tremont said. “Do you feel ready for the interview? Or do you want me to cancel?”
She closed her eyes and breathed out slowly. “Canceling was an option all along? Yes. I choose that option.”
“It’s not an option. I was just trying to give you the chance to make the right decision.” He added, “You failed.”
“Drat. Foiled again.” She yawned. “I’ll be fine. I’ve done this about ninety thousand times before. Smile. Answer their questions. Be charming and polite but a little evasive to keep the mystery alive. Boom. Someone hand me an award, I’m awesome.”
“You’re extra, that’s what you are,” he said. “And if he brings up Rachel and her cray-cray?”
“I make with the flirty eyes and laugh before telling him that only Hayley gets that inside scoop, so he can suck it.”
“Right, except maybe leave out the sucking part. That seems crass,” Tremont teased.
Emerson nodded. “I’ll consider it.”
“I gave him your approved list of talking points”—Tremont was back to being all business…buzzkill—“but expect him to push the boundaries. They all do.”
She was prepared for that. “Duly noted.”
“Okay, I’ll tell them to send him up with security. I assume Hayley is going to observe this.”
“Sure. Why should she get the night off?” Emerson was joking, but in truth she wanted Hayley there as a safety blanket, like before. And because she missed her. Which was weird, right?
Tremont agreed. “Damn skippy. I’ll call her and send her over.”
“Can’t I just call her?” Emerson felt like she could manage that.
“Sure. Just give her a ring.”
She nodded before a thought occurred to her. “I don’t have her number. You always communicate with her.”
“Yup.”
Dammit. Why was she so sheltered and useless? “You were testing me again.”
“Yup.”
“Fine. I need you. I’m lost without you,” she whined. “Now can you please text me her number.”
Her phone buzzed against her ear.
“I already forwarded her contact to you.” She checked, it was there. “Okay, I’ll send him up in say, fifteen minutes? Is that enough time?”
“Yes sir, Captain, sir.” She sat up at the edge of the couch and saluted to no one.
“You’re a nut. Good luck. Call me after it’s over.”
“Will do.”
Emerson disconnected and added Hayley’s contact into her phone. She sat there for a moment wondering what to say. “Why are you being so weird about this? Just text her and tell her the guy is here. Stop making this a big thing.” Great. Now she was talking to herself. She sighed.
Hey, it’s Emerson. The magazine guy is coming up. Do you want to sit in on it?
There was a pause before some text bubbles appeared.
how do I kno this is really U? What if this is a trap? I’ll need a clue or something
Emerson smiled.
You suck at Uno. So bad. You’re the worst.
More bubbles.
Nope. This is an imposter. Bc clearly you were cheating.
I was not cheating. You’re just terrible. And you kept showing me your cards. That was true. Hayley really needed to perfect her card holding technique.
An admission! I knew it. More bubbles. Headed UR way now. U R in the fancy suite at the end of the hall, right?
Maybe I am. Maybe not. We should have a secret knock, just so I know it’s you.
Hayley wrote back immediately: Shave and a haircut?
Emerson nodded. Two bits.
Hayley replied with a fist emoji and some musical notes.
See? She could totally handle herself. Tremont was overreacting. This was no big deal.
* * *
Emerson hated being wrong. Like, really hated it. She especially hated being wrong when it involved Tremont.
Hayley closed the door to her suite and turned before leaning against it. “Well, that happened.”
Emerson hung her head and sighed. “How bad was that? Be honest. I can take it.”
Hayley ran her hand through her hair and shrugged. “It could have been worse. You could have forgotten your name or room number. Oh, wait, you did.”
Emerson collapsed onto the couch and buried her head under a cushion. She emerged and said, “You’re going to put that in your article, aren’t you?”
Hayley pushed the room service cart farther into the room and poured two water glasses before handing one to Emerson. “Oh, yeah. I’m probably going to lead with it.”
Emerson took the glass and sipped its contents. “Judas.”
Hayley feigned offense. “Hey, I’m not the one who can’t order room service correctly.”
Emerson sat up and flapped her arms around. “I panicked. There were so many choices. How was I supposed to pick a dinner when breakfast is available all day. All day, Hayley. That means pancakes for dinner and—”
&nb
sp; “Crepes. And fruit cup. And two different bran muffins. A Greek yogurt parfait, an egg white and spinach omelet with goat cheese, and steel-cut oatmeal.” Hayley uncovered each dish and pointed to the second shelf of trays below. “And also a burger, fries, two different milkshakes, and a mixed-greens salad with honey mustard dressing on the side.”
“Dressing always on the side,” she pointed out. “There’s no reason to be unhealthy, Hayley.”
Hayley pushed the coffee table aside and moved the room service cart into the now open space. “You know, they would have assembled this for you and let you choose the fancy utensils and folded napkins if you asked.”
“Asked? I nearly ordered everything on the menu because I couldn’t make up my mind. You think if they gave me any other choices, I would have been successful?” Emerson’s mouth was watering. The buffet she ordered smelled fantastic.
“All I’m saying is that you managed to make it through that interview no problem at all. But when you were tasked with picking something to eat, you crumbled.” Hayley pointed a french fry at her before popping it into her mouth.
“Har, har. A food reference. Funny.” She swiped a strawberry off the top of the crepe and moaned in ecstasy. “Yassss.”
Hayley gave her a raised eyebrow.
“What? I’m passionate about food.” Emerson shrugged and forked the corner of the small pancake.