A Christmas Proposition

by Jessica Lemmon

  “Mowr.” Oscar padded into the room and she stroked the cat’s back. He responded by arching, his tail flicking into the shape of a question mark.

  “I like this cat despite him belonging to your ex-girlfriend.”

  Emmett sighed, evidently not wanting to return to this discussion.

  “I suppose we’ll see her sooner or later.”

  “Later,” he said. “She extended her trip.”

  “And stuck you with her cat?” Stef stroked Oscar again and winked her apology.

  He wasn’t any trouble, really. Even though the day she’d bathed him he’d looked at her like she was performing torture as she shampooed the mud from his coat. Oscar had claimed the guest bedroom for himself but trotted into Emmett’s bedroom to greet his temporary human caretakers each morning. More often than not, the cat approached her side of the bed and she’d murmur her good morning before walking downstairs to feed him. It wasn’t lost on her that this entire setup—the cat, the marriage, her living with Emmett—had an expiration date. Soon she’d be in her own bed, cat-less and Emmett-less. The thought bothered her more than it should.

  She didn’t even know she liked cats.

  Or Emmett, she thought with a soft smile.

  “What are you wearing to the Sparkle & Shine gala?”

  “Sorry?” His face pinched in confusion.

  “The tickets you bought me to the New Year’s Eve party. You’re accompanying me.”

  He digested that information for a second. “I didn’t picture myself as your date when I secured them.”

  “Who did you picture as my date?”

  “Someone...else.”

  “Not Blake.”

  “No.” His visage darkened. “Not Blake. But someone...” He appeared to roll a few options around in his head before deciding on his answer. “Not like me.”

  “Someone who...doesn’t work for my family?”

  His stare was grave. “Yes.”

  “Someone—” she rose from her seat on the chair and sat with him on the couch “—who knows how to behave in public?”

  She crossed one leg over the other. His eyes ran the length of her boots slowly. She’d noticed him admiring them before.

  “You like these?” She pointed a toe.

  “Immensely.” His fiery gaze locked on hers.

  “Who knew attraction was hiding under all this...animosity?” She fiddled with the collar of his shirt. “I always thought you hated me.”

  He didn’t deny it, but he was scowling.

  “The way you slid me those glares whenever I came to visit Chase at work. Or whenever you came to my parents’ house for a party.” She pointed at his face. “Like that. I bet no one believes we’re in love.”

  A tiny needle of sadness pricked her, but she ignored it. Obviously, she knew they weren’t in love, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t take advantage of his nearness.

  “There’s a thin line, my queen.” He broke eye contact to lean, his elbows on his knees, his beer dangling between thick fingers. He was so easy to admire. She’d never thought to admire him before. She thought she’d disliked him as much as he disliked her.

  Now they liked each other in equal measures. When had that happened? She guessed somewhere between convincing him to enter city hall with her and the moment he insisted on buying the ring and sliding it onto her finger. She blinked, coming to the slow realization that what was between them couldn’t be categorized as simply physical. He blew her mind in bed, but he also honored her at every turn. Like tonight, when he’d broken Blake’s nose.

  Gosh. She really hoped he’d broken it.

  Stef had never been treated like gold by a man. By her father and brothers, sure, but never in a romantic relationship. She’d always been willing to have fun and made it clear she wasn’t interested in being tied down. Yet here she was. Having fun and tied down.

  Temporarily tied down. She couldn’t forget that part.

  Even though during these quiet moments with Emmett, she wished she could.

  Eighteen

  Thankfully, no photos from the museum surfaced. Penelope made a call to the photographer and paid her generously to bury the photos of Emmett hitting Blake in the nose. The story was officially dead. The Dallas Duchess had posted about “whisperings” that Blake had two black eyes, but she’d been “unable to reach him for comment.”

  Over the span of what amounted to only a couple of days, Stefanie had made her way from the top of the news feed online to somewhere in the middle. She’d never been so happy to not be “trending.”

  She set her phone on the counter as Emmett stepped into the kitchen, freshly showered and dressed for work, eyeing her with a primal gaze that reminded her of everything she’d done to him last night—and everything he’d done to her this morning.

  Sharing his bed each and every night was much better than she’d anticipated. And she barely missed her apartment—well, she missed it a little. Mostly the cheery baubles sitting around that made her apartment feel like a home.

  There were no baubles in Emmett’s town house. It was stocked with necessities. Utilitarian and simple.

  “You need a painting or two.”

  “Why?” His frown was outlined by the light from the open fridge door.

  “What do you like?” she asked rather than answered.

  “I like not to dust superfluous surfaces.”

  So much for that idea.

  Bottle of half-and-half in hand, he moved to the cabinet for a mug.

  “We’re off the top-ten list of people to talk about in Dallas,” she said. “Blake has retreated into a hole in the ground. For now.”

  “Good. I’ll check in with the staff at the mayor’s office and make sure the heat’s off Chase.” Emmett lifted the coffeepot and filled a mug. “In hindsight, he’s the one who should’ve gotten married to salvage his campaign and take the heat off you.”

  The comment settled into the air like a foul stench.

  “Having regrets?” she asked.

  “That’s the wrong question.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “No. I’m not having regrets. Regret is as useless as worry.” He crossed the kitchen and put a kiss on her forehead. “So stop doing it.”

  Who knew gruff and sweet could coexist in one big, burly package? He continued to surprise her.

  “The gala is tomorrow.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m going to have to stop by my apartment to dig through my closet. I’ve been too preoccupied to shop properly for a dress and now it’s too late.”

  “The tragedy of off-the-rack,” he said with a healthy dose of sarcasm.

  “It’s your fault!” she accused with a grin. “You keep me in bed for longer than I’ve ever stayed there before.”

  He set aside his steaming coffee mug to cup her jaw. “That’s because there are far more fun things to do with you in my bed than out of it.”

  See? Sweet.

  She savored the feel of his giving and taking mouth, losing herself in the fantasy that this was her life. Their life. That they’d come home each and every day to each other—and to their cat, Oscar—and argue about what to wear to the next social function or what kind of art belonged in their home.

  And when he tilted her head to deepen their kiss, she wondered if he wasn’t doing the exact same thing—reveling in this moment rather than dealing with reality.

  * * *

  Chase’s nod was final but there was an ellipsis in his eyes.

  “Spit it out, boss.” Emmett shut Chase’s office door and crossed to the middle of the room to stand before his best friend, arms folded.

  His armor.

  “How’s it going?” Chase asked, and Emmett lifted an eyebrow at the mild line of questioning.

  “Peach
y.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “The world is my oyster,” Emmett responded, his tone flat.

  Chase offered a head shake and pinched the bridge of his nose. “God, what a mess.”

  Whether he was talking about Emmett marrying Stef or about the Blake drama, it was hard to say.

  “The heat’s off you for the immediate future. Relax in that.”

  “I assume you’re attending the Sparkle & Shine gala with Stefanie tomorrow night?”

  There was a segue.

  “So I’m told.”

  “Mimi and I will be there. Sonia Osborne sent me a pair of tickets. Evidently she’s a fan of the mayor.” He smoothed his tie and lifted his chin. Smugness was a good look on Chase. Emmett preferred it to his best friend threatening to kick him out of the only family he had.

  That was the inevitable conclusion, wasn’t it? Stefanie poured her entire heart into everything she did—charity Christmas dinners, dressing for events...marriages. She was in deep—he could feel it. And the tragedy was that to keep his word to Chase, Emmett would have to eventually walk away. Because he didn’t have an “entire heart” to pour into anything—or anyone.

  Dread crawled up his spine at the thought of losing it all. Again.

  “Don’t look so downtrodden. It’s a party, not a natural disaster,” Chase said. “All you have to do is show up, have a few drinks and deliver a New Year’s kiss...to my sister.”

  He tacked on that last bit as if it’d just occurred to him.

  “That’s taking some getting used to.” Chase slid a glance at Emmett, who dropped his arms. “For both of us, I presume.”

  Despite the hope in his friend’s voice, Emmett couldn’t agree.

  “Stef and I have it down. We’re good.”

  Chase’s eye twitched, but his words were encouraging. “I wouldn’t want her to be unhappy. Or you.”

  “All due respect, boss, but she’s the important one.” Emmett was trained in the art of being unhappy. He could handle it if he had to be that way again.

  “Agreed.” Chase’s desk phone purred at the same time Emmett’s cell phone buzzed. “Work calls.”

  Emmett gripped the doorknob and checked his phone, pausing to read the message and decide what to do about it. Chase’s voice faded into the background.

  The text lit both Emmett’s phone and his brain on fire.

  The photo was Stefanie’s tall, sexy boots he’d grown so fond of. Toes pointing, a concrete square of sidewalk in the city beneath her feet, that pair of knee-high boots sent his mind straight to the gutter. The following text message blanked out everything else.

  How about I wear these tonight? ONLY these.

  “Em.” Chase’s voice crashed into his psyche.

  Emmett tucked the phone into his pocket as guiltily as if Stef had sent him a nude selfie instead of a photo of her shoes.

  “What?” he snapped.

  Chase frowned, phone still against his ear. Oh, right. Work. Chase briefed him on a potential issue and asked that he relay it to the security team. Emmett listened, his mind slowly descending to earth, where it belonged.

  With a “No problem, boss,” he yanked open Chase’s office door and got to work.

  Penelope, a glass of sauvignon blanc in one hand, was all smiles. She’d taken a break from work when Stef called her to catch up. The invite hadn’t come because of a PR need, but because Pen was now her sister and Stef hadn’t been a very good one. Lately her relationship with her sister-in-law had revolved around Stef screwing up and Pen bailing her out.

  Not cool.

  “Can I get you ladies anything else?” the waitress, a young brunette, asked.

  “Just the check,” Penelope said.

  “On me,” Stefanie interjected. The waitress nodded her understanding and walked away. “I owe you, Penelope. Also...”

  She extracted her cell phone, called up the text she’d sent to Emmett before lunch and showed Pen.

  Penelope’s face was serious for a beat until she figured out that Stef wasn’t showing her dirt she’d have to clean up, but a fun little secret she’d told no one about until this very moment.

  “I love it.” Pen gasped, proud. “I love his response more.”

  Stef grinned as she reread Emmett’s response for the fourteenth time.

  Hell yes. That was it. He expressed himself as he normally did: without decorum or silly emoji. Just two words, straight to the point.

  “This arrangement is working out between you two.”

  “It’s early. I’m not sure we’ve passed the will-we-make-it portion of the test yet.”

  “That’s ongoing.” Pen waved a hand in dismissal. “Miriam hit the nail on the head the night you announced you two were married. I’m also over everyone trying to do things the ‘right’ way. Your parents mean well by worrying about you, but you’re an adult. You make your own decisions and if they don’t accept that, that’s on them.”

  “Right.” Stef nodded, feeling vindicated. She’d been trying to prove to them—hell, to everyone—that she was responsible for a while now. “I didn’t do this to spite them. I did this for myself. And for Chase.”

  “What about Emmett’s parents? Did they have a kitten when you told them the news?”

  “We...didn’t tell his dad. And his mother died a long time ago.” Sharing any more about his family felt like a betrayal. She trusted Pen implicitly, but it wasn’t Stef’s story to tell.

  “I’m so sorry to hear that. I assumed they weren’t close since Emmett shows up at so many Ferguson functions. If you count in years, he’s a bigger part of this family than me. Does he plan on reaching out to his father?”

  “Not that I know of. It’s...complicated.” Impossible, really, but who was she to judge?

  “Give it time. If it feels like the right move to include his family in your life, you’ll know it.”

  “That’s assuming a lot, Pen.” Stef reached for her water glass.

  “Not too long ago I was on the fast track to building my business into a Fortune 500 company, I’d sworn off men, and I was fairly sure I’d never have children.” Pen waggled her wedding band. “Now I’m married to an oil tycoon, raising a daughter and advising the wealthiest family in Dallas.”

  “Not just advising.” Stef reached for Pen’s hand and squeezed. “You’re family.”

  Just like Emmett was. Just like he’d always been.

  Except where Stefanie was concerned, that bond had taken on a new, more interesting shade. He was at her side, making her see life differently. Helping her see herself differently. She was beginning to wonder if she would’ve uncovered the stronger side of herself without him.

  “I like having you as a sister, Stef.” Pen, an only child, smiled, her eyes misting. “It’s an honor.”

  “Same to you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to Zach.”

  The waitress set the bill on the table, but Pen wasn’t finished with her assessment yet.

  “I have a feeling Emmett feels the same way about you.”

  Chills ran the length of Stefanie’s arms as she considered that possibility. Could it be that as much as he was unknowingly giving to her, she was also giving to him? Giving him the same sense of family and belonging on a more intimate level than he’d ever experienced? It was heady. It was...scary. Was she ready for something so...life changing?

  Pen’s smile turned saucy, unaware of Stef’s bend of thought. “Have fun in those boots tonight.”

  “Oh, I will.” Stef stabbed her credit card into the black book as she offered the expected response. In truth, Pen’s assessment had taken hold. Could there be more to come in Stef’s little marriage?

  The prospect of more excited her right down to the toes of her sexy boots.

  * * *

  “Hello?” Stef called from
Emmett’s empty, dark kitchen.

  “In here.”

  She stepped into the living room to find him in front of the fireplace, a beer in hand, a frown on his face.

  “Everything all right?” She’d expected to come home to a trail of rose petals leading to the bedroom after his response to her text. Well, maybe not rose petals, but she’d expected him to be at least excited to see her.

  “Fine.”

  From a shopping bag in her hand, she pulled out a bottle of champagne. “I thought we could have a sexy evening. Sexy begins with champagne.”

  She’d actually thought they’d have a romantic evening, but the adjective might be too much for Mr. Emotes Not.

  “I have a beer, but thanks.”

  She sighed her disappointment.

  “You look beautiful.” He stood and came to her, lowering his mouth for a kiss she accepted. “Can I pour you a glass?”

  “No, that’s okay. We’ll save it for brunch.” His stony expression sent an ominous shiver up her spine. “What’s wrong?”

  “I spoke with Chase today.”

  “Major mood killer.” She slid the champagne back into the bag and set it on the trunk coffee table.

  “He doesn’t want you to be unhappy.” Emmett’s expression remained severe. “And neither do I.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Are you sure?” He studied her as if asking a deeper question. “Because if you’re not...you don’t have to stay married to me until your brother is reelected.”

  She blinked, stunned mainly because she’d begun thinking in the opposite direction. That maybe, if he was open to it, they could remain married awhile longer. And here Stef had spent the day imagining that Emmett’s feelings were deepening for her.

  Raw acceptance reflected in his eyes. “I don’t want you to leave, but if you’re ready to go...it’s okay.”

  “Emmett.” She palmed his face. “I don’t want to leave.”

  He exhaled, and to her it sounded as relieved as she felt.