“Damned right, it should have been,” he mumbled. Crystal was beautiful. Beautiful? She was spectacular. Yards of blond hair. Silky skin. A lush-looking mouth, a body that should have graced a centerfold. Oh, yes. Spectacular was the word. On a scale of one to ten, she was a twelve.
And what had he done? He’d taken her to supper, then home. He’d taken her to her home, and left her at her door with a chaste kiss on the cheek and a sort of promise he’d phone sometime soon.
Jake groaned, propped his elbows on his desk and buried his face in his hands.
In other words, the evening had been a disaster, and who was to blame for that? Not Crystal. Not him.
“Emily,” Jake said, lifting his head and glaring at the door. Emily, that was who.
She’d ruined his evening, ruined his night, because he’d ended up so ticked off that he’d spent most of it tossing and turning instead of sleeping. She’d put him into a foul mood, and for what reason? All he’d tried to do was look after her. He’d taken her to a party, offered some helpful advice and had she appreciated it?
“No,” he said, answering his own question.
In a city like this, most women would surely give anything for a man’s concern. But his testy executive assistant hadn’t just disregarded his advice, she’d tossed it in his face. She’d gone out on the town with a man who was wrong for her and now it was the next morning, and she was late.
Jake looked at the open door between the inner and outer office, then at his watch again.
Did she think he’d tolerate lateness, now that he’d promoted her and given her a raise? Maybe she thought that fooling around in the elevator had really meant something. It hadn’t. She’d simply caught him by surprise with the lace thing. So what? Some men got turned on by high heels, some by silk. He just happened to like lace.
Not that he’d ever known it, until last night. Lace was, well, it was lace. Sexy, sure, but no more so than, well, than silk. Or satin. It was only that the lace had been so unexpected. Cotton, was what he’d have figured, if he’d figured anything at all.., although even cotton would have done it, against Emily’s soft, sweetly-scented skin. Against that smoothly curved breast that he’d barely tasted...
The outer door swung open. Emily stepped into the office, covered from head to ankle in her usual layers of shapeless wool. But she wasn’t shapeless. She was delicately curved, lushly female. He knew that, now.
Did Thad Jennett, that smarmy excuse for a human being, know it, too? Had Jennett kissed that sweet mouth, that delicate flesh? Had he stripped away Emily’s coat, her jacket, her blouse...
“You’re late,” Jake snarled, and shot to his feet.
Emily shut the door, looked calmly at the clock on her desk, then at him. “And a cheerful good morning to you, too, Mr. McBride.”
“There’s nothing good about it.” He folded his arms. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Well, aren’t you going to explain why you’re late?”
Emily went to her desk, put down her purse, pulled off her gloves and scarf, unbuttoned her coat. Carefully, she tucked her scarf and gloves into the pockets of the coat, hung the coat in the closet, then sat down and pulled off her boots. No heavy socks, Jake noticed. Just a quick, tantalizing flash of nylon-covered leg.
“I am not late. In fact,” she said, with a nod at the clock, “I’m early.” She smoothed down her skirt, pulled out her chair and sat. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten that I’m not due in until nine.”
Jake’s scowl deepened. The skirt was nubby wool, at least a hundred sizes too big, and hadn’t he asked her to wear something else for tonight’s cocktail party?
“I have forgotten nothing,” he said coolly. “And I’d suggest you not forget that you have an obligation here.”
“I beg your pardon?”
She didn’t beg anything. He could tell, from the way she spoke, from the way she was looking at him. What had happened to business demeanor? Was this what came of a meaningless few fumbles in an elevator, or was it what happened after a meal with Thad Jennett?
“I asked you to wear something appropriate for this evening.”
“This evening?”
“Yes. The party at Internet Resources. A business commitment which I see you’ve already forgotten.”
“I didn’t forget. I just...” Emily swallowed. “I can’t go with you.”
“Why not?”
“I—I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Perhaps I should remind you that you have an obligation—”
“You already did. And I’ll continue to fulfill that obligation, each and every day.”
Jake’s eyes narrowed. “If that’s a polite way of telling me that your nights are your own, I’d suggest you keep in mind that your days belong to me. You can carouse—”
“Carouse?”
“Exactly. You can carouse from dusk to dawn. You can light up the night, if that’s your preference.” He strode towards her, his expression chill, his hands on his hips. “Just don’t expect to waltz into this office late.”
“I told you, I am not late.”
“My coffee is usually on my desk by nine.” “Only because I usually come in early.” “Well, then.”
“Well, then, what?”
Well, then, Jake thought grimly, he was making a colossal ass of himself again. So what if she’d gone out with Jennett? So what if she didn’t want to go out with him tonight? Go out? No. He’d intended to have her accompany him to a business function, that was all, and maybe she was right. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea...
He clamped his lips together, marched into his office, shut his door and buried his nose in his work.
Ten minutes later, he shoved aside what he was doing, pushed back his chair, went to the door and flung it open. Emily was typing away at her computer.
“You’re right,” he said.
She looked up. “Excuse me?”
“Your life is your own, to do with as you see fit.”
“Am I supposed to say thank you?”
Jake’s eyes glittered. “I’m trying to apologize, dammit.”
Emily sighed. “I know. It’s just... I’m not in the best of moods this morning.”
“Yeah.” He nodded, ran his hand through his hair. “Well, that makes two of us.” He hesitated. Her life was her own, but there was nothing wrong in asking. After all, he was the one who’d introduced her to Jennett. “So, how’d things go?”
“Things?” she said brightly.
Too brightly, Jake thought, and cocked his head.
“Your date with Jennett. It, uh, it went well?”
She looked at him for a long moment. “Fine,” she said, and smiled, but she wasn’t fooling him. The smile was as phony as the perky voice.
“Emily?”
She shook her head, swiveled her chair so that her back was to him. “I have a lot to do, Jake. Those memos you left me yesterday...”
“Emily,” he said again, and went to her. He put his hands on the back of the chair, turned it towards him. She dropped her head so he couldn’t see her face and he squatted down beside her, gently cupped her chin in his hand and brought her eyes level with his. “Emily, what is it?”
Her shoulders lifted and fell. “Nothing. I told you, I’m just not in the best of moods this morning.”
Jake sighed. “My fault. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have chewed your head off. Of course you weren’t late. You never are.”
“Yesterday,” she said, and sniffed. “I was late yesterday—”
“Yeah, well, so was half the city.”
Was that a hint of dampness in her eyes?
“That cold I mentioned,” she said, as if she’d read his thoughts. Jake nodded, dug in his trouser pocket, took out a folded white handkerchief and gave it to her.
“Blow,” he said. He waited while she did, then cleared his throat. “It’s just, well, when you didn’t show up early, the way you usually do, I
began to worry.”
“About me?”
“Sure. I mean, I sort of feel like I’m responsible for introducing you to Jennett.” He waited for her to say something. When she didn’t, he cleared his throat again. “How’d it go? I mean, no octopus last night?”
Emily smiled. “Thad was a perfect gentleman.”
Jake let out his breath. “Good. That’s, ah, that’s a relief to hear.”
“But the date was a disaster.”
“A disaster?” Jake frowned and rose to his feet. “How come?”
“It just was,” she said, in a small voice. “You didn’t have a good time?”
“I was too nervous to have a good time.”
“Nervous? About what?”
Emily sighed. “About everything. What to say. What to do. What to order, from the menu...”
“Where’d he take you for supper?”
“A little place on Third. It had a French name but Thad kept calling it a perfect bwaht, whatever that means.”
Jake nodded. “Chez Louis?”
“That’s it. But I’ve no idea what a ‘bwaht’ is.”
“It’s French, Em,” he said gently. Oh, she was so innocent. Her mouth was trembling, and he thought about kissing it. Just to soothe it, of course, not for any other reason. “A boite is a box. Jennett meant the restaurant is like a little jewel box. A special sort of place.” Indeed, it was. Jake knew it well. Chez Louis was one of midtown’s most romantic, most seductive restaurants. His jaw tightened. “He was trying to impress you.”
“Oh, it was impressive, all right. Soft lights. Not a word of English from the waiters or on the menu...” She looked up at him. “I was never very good at languages. I took a lot of science courses. I wanted to be an anthropologist. I thought I did, anyway, until I decided I’d like to try my hand at business...” Her words trailed away.
“Well,” he said briskly, “dinner must have been nice.”
Emily shrugged. Her eyes glittered again and she lifted his handkerchief to her nose and blew.
“It wasn’t?”
“I guess. But Thad ordered snails.” She shuddered and folded her hands in her lap, the handkerchief bunched in her fist.
“Yeah.” Jake smiled. “Well, some people love ‘em. Me, I’ve never been able to get past the idea that they leave a trail of slime behind them when they... What?”
“He ordered them for me.”
Jake’s eyes narrowed. She’d let Jennett order her meal, when she wouldn’t even let him give her advice?
“I see,” he said coldly.
“No. No, you don’t. ‘Why not let me order for both of us?’ Thad said, and I said, fine, because the menu was in French and the only language I ever took was beginning Spanish and...” She paused, took a deep breath. “He said they were es cargo.”
“Escargots,” Jake said helpfully.
“Yes. Well, I’d heard the word. I mean, of course, I knew it was some kind of French dish...”
“Of course.” Was it possible his little sparrow regretted her first flight? Jake squatted down beside her again and took her hand. “But you didn’t know exactly what.”
“Not until the waiter put the plate in front of me.” A shudder ripped through her again. “Oh, when I saw those slimy shells...” She sighed. “I couldn’t eat them. And I felt so silly. I mean, I should have known he’d asked for snails.”
“Lots of people wouldn’t.”
“I’m twenty-six years old,” Emily said sternly. “I live in New York City. I’m going to meet lots of sophisticated people, now that I’m your exec. Don’t you think it’s time I could make my way through a restaurant menu, even if it’s written in French?”
“It’s probably a good idea, but it’s not—”
“I made a fool of myself, is what I did, Jake!” Emily snatched back her hand, plucked some papers from her desk and got to her feet. Jake stood, too, and followed her slowly into his office. “I turned green at the sight of the snails, I nearly gagged over the drink he’d ordered for me...”
“What was it?”
“I don’t know. Thad said it was an aperitif but it tasted more like cough medicine.”
So much for Jennett’s Let-Me-Thrill-You-With-My-Sophistication suaveness, Jake thought with satisfaction. That had obviously been the plan, but it had fallen flat on its cosmetically enhanced face.
“So,” he said, trying to sound sympathetic, “it wasn’t a memorable meal, huh?”
“I guess it depends on your definition of memorable.” Emily blushed. “I felt like an idiot by the time it ended. You know, the poor little country mouse? That was me.”
“Don’t be silly. There’s nothing wrong with not being familiar with menus deliberately written so you can’t understand them, or with a drink that tastes like you ought to have somebody clamp your nose shut with one hand and pour it down your throat with the other.”
He’d hoped for a smile. Instead, Emily dumped the papers on his desk and swung towards him, her expression taut.
“Don’t patronize me, Jake. You said I’m going to have to attend business functions with you. Well, you won’t think it’s so amusing if I end up making an ass of myself when we’re together.”
Jake sighed, eased a hip onto the edge of his desk and folded his arms.
“When I came to New York,” he said, “I thought the height of fine dining consisted of a hot dog served with chili.”
Emily’s lips twitched. “No, you didn’t.”
“Yeah, I did. Back home, you ate a frank in a bun with mustard and, if you were lucky, sauerkraut. Then I came to the big city and discovered those pushcarts where you can order a hot dog smothered in mustard, ketchup, onions, relish, and chili.” He grinned. “I can still remember standing on the corner, eating a frank with everything and thinking that was haute cuisine. Well, I’d have thought it if I’d known the phrase. As it was, I just figured I’d died and gone to heaven.”
Emily laughed. Damn, Jake thought, watching her, she had a wonderful laugh.
“Chili dogs are gourmet dining, huh?”
“Hey, this is New York.”
She laughed again. Had her laugh always been like this, so open and easy and infectious? Or had he just never noticed it before?
“Thank you, Jake. For making me feel better, I mean. All through supper, I just kept wanting the evening to end.”
“Ah.” He cleared his throat. “Speaking of endings, how did it? End, I mean. What time did Jennett get you home?”
“I’m not sure. It wasn’t late.”
“No?”
“No.” Emily’s smile faded. She took some papers from the desk and began leafing through them. “You left me a memo about that trip to San Diego. I have it here, somewhere...”
“Emily? What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on, don’t hand me that. Something’s wrong.” Emily bit her lip, spun around and started towards the door. “I don’t want to discuss it.”
Jake could feel his muscles knot. “Well, I do,” he said. He moved past her, shut the door, leaned back against it and folded his arms. His face was blank. “I thought you said he wasn’t an octopus.”
“He wasn’t.”
“So?”
“So...” Color suffused her face. “I don’t think this is an appropriate topic of conversation for an employer and an employee.”
Jake thought about taking Emily in his arms, kissing her until she clung to him, reminding her with his hands and mouth that what had gone on between them last night wasn’t what either of them would have called “appropriate” just a few days ago, but that would only have taken things back to where they’d been in the elevator, and he wasn’t going to let that happen.
He’d already reached that decision.
There wasn’t a way in the world he was going to get involved with Emily...but he did have an obligation here.
“Remember what I said after your date with Archer? About fe
eling responsible?” He spoke calmly. Why wouldn’t he? Just because her color was deepening and his imagination was running wild, why wouldn’t he speak calmly? “I introduced you to him, too, and look what happened. Come on, Em. Tell me about last night.”
Emily sighed. She put her hands behind her, placed them against the edge of Jake’s desk and leaned back. The simple action thrust her breasts forward. Not that he could see them; she had on another of those big, bulky suit jackets. But he could imagine the way they were lifting, rising towards him. Towards his hands. His mouth...
Jake frowned and stood up straight.
“What did he do?” he demanded. “If that bastard got out of line—”
“We kissed,” she blurted.
Jennett had kissed her. Jake curled his hands into fists until he could feel his fingernails biting into his palms. Well, so what? A kiss wasn’t anything. And she had the right to kiss any man she liked. She had the right to sigh in a man’s arms, open her lips to his, take his tongue into her mouth...
Jake cursed, grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair and made for the door. Emily flung herself in front of it.
“Jake? Where are you going?”
“To kill Jennett,” he growled. “I don’t know why you tried to protect him, why you said he wasn’t all over you if he was, but—”
“He wasn’t. He didn’t. It was me. I...I kissed him!”
Jake felt everything inside him become numb. “You kissed him? But you just said—”
“I know what I said.” Emily blushed. “This is so embarrassing!”
“Just tell me what happened, dammit.” Jake tossed aside his jacket and dug his hands into her shoulders. “You kissed Jennett?”
“He kissed me first. At the door. On my cheek. And I—I thought, well, of course he’s only going to want to kiss my cheek, after that dumb performance in the restaurant...”
“You wanted him to kiss your mouth,” Jake said slowly. “You actually wanted that—that—” he drew a harsh breath “—that man to kiss your mouth?”
“You have to understand,” Emily said, the words a breathless rush, but how could she make him understand when she still didn’t? She’d told herself she’d wanted Thad to kiss her because he was handsome, and sexy; because he was only the second man who’d asked her out in years...
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