Jake glowered at himself. Half a dozen Jakes glowered back, all of them looking like police bulletins for the criminally insane. It didn’t help that he hadn’t bothered shaving this morning and he had a dark stubble on his cheeks and jaw. All in all, he might as well have been wearing a sign that said Keep Away. And people were. The place was crowded but the chairs on either side of him stayed empty and a good thing, too, because the last thing he wanted was to end up with some damned fool trying to engage him in polite conversation.
He was having a rotten time, and he didn’t much care who knew it.
Emily, on the other hand, was back to enjoying herself.
Jake’s eyes narrowed.
Eric, who was cutting her hair, was having a blast, too. Jake could see him from here, standing over Emily, smiling and laughing as he wielded a pair of scissors and a comb.
She was laughing, too.
Jake’s mouth turned down.
What the hell was there to laugh about?
The SOB better not be taking off too much of all that sex hair. “Just trim it,” Jake had warned, when he’d handed Emily over.
“Trust me, Jake,” Eric had said.
Well, yeah. That was the reason he’d brought Emily here, wasn’t it? He and Eric worked out at the same gym. They’d had some beers together. And Eric owned one of the trendiest styling salons in the city.
He was also straight, Jake thought grimly. And it was just possible some women might be turned on by his Viking good looks.
How come he hadn’t considered those things before he’d brought Emily here and put her in Eric’s hands? How come it hadn’t occurred to him that Eric wouldn’t just cut her hair, he’d also see how beautiful she was, how much fun; he’d see that she wasn’t anything like the other women who crowded THE BEAUTY SPOT, that she was...
“Hi.”
Jake lifted his glowering face. Emily stood before him. Eric was there, too, but at first all Jake could see was Emily. Emily, with her hair loose, with her curls set free, shiny and dark as coffee as they tumbled around her face.
“Well?” She smiled nervously. “What do you think?”
What did he think? Jake rose from the chair. What he thought was that he wanted to reach out and touch one of those curls, feel the silken whisper of it as he brought it to his lips....
“Not bad,” he said calmly.
Emily’s smile drooped. Good, Jake thought savagely. Had she really imagined he’d tell her she looked—she looked—
“That’s typical,” Eric said. He grinned, looped an arm lightly around Emily’s shoulders and gave her a quick hug. “Last time I beat him at racquetball, he said the same thing.”
Jake looked at Eric. “You got it wrong, buddy,” he said quietly. “I beat you. And since when do stylists get so cozy with their clients?”
Emily flushed. Eric raised his eyebrows. Jake felt like an idiot.
“Oh, hell,” he muttered, “man, I’m sorry. That was a stupid thing to say. I just—”
Eric let go of Emily and smiled. “No harm done, Jake. I’d probably have the ol’ green-eyed monster on my back, too, if this were my lady.”
“But I’m not,” Emily said quickly. “I’m not—”
“See you,” Jake said. He clasped Emily’s arm and hustled her out of the salon.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” she hissed. “Now he thinks you and I—he thinks we’re—”
“Did he ask for your phone number?”
“No!” Emily wrenched free of Jake’s hand and glared at him. “But what if he had?”
What, indeed? Jake dug his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket. “Don’t worry about it,” he said coldly. “I’ll set him straight when I see him next time. Once he’s sure you and I aren’t involved, he’ll ask you out.”
“I don’t want him to ask me out! That’s not what this is about.”
“Sure it is. What else am I doing this for, if not to make guys interested in you?”
“I don’t like your attitude!”
“You don’t have to like it,” Jake snarled. “Just do as you’re told so we can get through the day.”
“You know what?” Emily blew a curl off her forehead. “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to get through the day. I don’t want you in my face. In fact, I’m going home.”
She swung away. Jake reached out, caught her arm and spun her towards him.
“You’ll go home when I say you can go home.”
“I know this may come as a shock, Mr. McBride, but I don’t have to take orders from you.”
“Yeah, you do. You’re my exec, remember?”
“Five days a week. Even Scrooge gave Bob Cratchit weekends off.”
“So, you’re telling me you won’t work overtime?”
Emily blinked. “What kind of question is that?”
“What do you think today is, if not overtime?”
“Huh?”
Huh, was right. Think fast, Jake told himself, go on, find a way to dig yourself out of the mess you’re in.
“I have to drive to Connecticut, to, ah, to check on some property.” Well, he thought, it could have been the truth. He had been planning to head north; he just hadn’t thought about doing it today.
Emily frowned. “So?”
“So, I need you to come with me.”
“To Connecticut?”
“Isn’t that what I just said? Yes. To Connecticut.”
“I don’t understand. What does property in Connecticut have to do with me?”
“I want to see if you have a feel for this sort of thing.”
“What sort of thing?” Emily shook her head. “I’m not following you at all.”
Jake took her arm again. He led her up the street, around the corner, to where he’d parked his Corvette, unlocked the door and closed it after her. It took a couple of minutes, just the time he needed for it all to come together.
“There are times I invest in land,” he said briskly, as he dumped the packages in the car and got behind the wheel. “You know that.”
“Actually, I didn’t. I know you have a weekend place in Connecticut, but—”
“Exactly.” He checked for traffic, then pulled away from the curb. “The two acres next to mine just came on the market. I have to decide whether or not to buy them.”
True again, he thought. Yes, it made more and more sense that she spend the rest of the day with him.
“And?” Emily said, sounding even more puzzled.
“And, I want your opinion. As my executive assistant.”
He glanced over at her. She was looking at him as if he’d lost his mind and maybe he had. But his mouth was already working, even though his brain seemed to be shutting down.
“I have the data. Prices in the area. Tax info. Resale, all of that.” Jake cleared his throat. “Of course,” he said politely, “if you think, you’ d be in over your head—”
“I’m perfectly capable of understanding the data,” Emily said coolly. “I just don’t understand why you didn’t mention this before.”
“I didn’t think of it.”
That was true enough, too. Suddenly, he knew how crazy he had to sound. And this was crazy. Why would he want to take Emily to Connecticut? He’d said he’d spend the day getting her new clothes, a new hairdo, new makeup. Well, he’d done it. She wanted to go home and it was time to let her do just that, then head to his place, check his address book, figure out who he felt like seeing tonight ... except he didn’t feel like seeing anybody, except Emily.
McBride, what are you doing?
“Listen,” he said quickly, “if you don’t want to do this... If you’d rather I took you home...”
He fell silent. The seconds ticked away and then Emily cleared her throat. “No,” she said softly, “no, don’t take me home. Take me with you, to—to Connecticut.”
Suddenly, Jake felt as if the car were filled with electricity. He looked at Emily. She was sitting very still, her hands folded in h
er lap.
“Okay,” he said gruffly, and he took the ‘Vette onto the highway that led out of the city, then onto the Hutchinson
I River Parkway, headed towards northwestern Connecticut. He was silent. Emily was, too. He glanced at her once in a while, as they left the city behind and entered the wooded hills of southern New England. She sat as she’d been sitting, hands folded, staring straight ahead.
What was she thinking?
The roads were fairly empty. The snow, falling more and more heavily, was keeping people home. Hell, home was where he ought to be. There was no sense to this. He’d get Emily to his house and then what? Show her the stuff about taxes and prices in Litchfield County? What for? The truth was that he didn’t need her opinion. He’d already decided to buy the land, not as an investment but because he loved the house, loved the hill it stood on, the forest that surrounded it.
Jake cursed, swung the wheel hard to the right and pulled onto the shoulder of the highway. He stared straight ahead while he gripped the steering wheel hard. His knuckles turned white.
“This is crazy,” he said gruffly. “I’ll take you back.”
“Jake?”
“Yes?”
“Jake, look at me.”
He did. For the first time in hours, he looked straight at her. His heart turned over. She was so beautiful. So beautiful...
“Is this really about property that’s for sale?” she said softly.
Her eyes lifted to his, and what he saw in their chocolate depths stole his breath away.
“Hell, no,” he whispered. Quickly, he undid his seat belt, undid hers, and reached for her. She came into his arms with a little sob, turned her face up to his and met his hard, hungry kiss with an eagerness that almost undid him.
“Emily,” he whispered, “come with me. Let me teach you the things that really matter.”
She put her hands in his hair and dragged his mouth down to hers.
“Yes,” she said, against his lips, “oh, Jake, yes.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE country road wound through the trees like a black ribbon, glittering wetly in the headlights of Jake’s Corvette.
The windshield wipers beat a steady, swift pattern as they tried to keep up with the falling snow.
Emily was surprised the road was passable at all. She’d said as much, to Jake.
“It’ll be clear,” he’d said tersely. “The plows are always out early, especially in a storm like this.”
The brief exchange had taken place almost an hour ago. Jake hadn’t spoken a word since then.
Emily couldn’t blame him. Ever since he’d pulled away after kissing her, she’d sat stiffly in her seat, her fingers almost painfully knotted together in her lap. Jake had to be thinking exactly what she was thinking, that the two of them had made an awful mistake.
Lights glinted ahead.
“Litchfield,” Jake said.
The sound of his voice startled her. She looked over at him, nodded, searched desperately for something to say in reply as they drove through the town, which lay quiet under its heavy white mantle of snow.
“It’s—it’s beautiful.”
“Yeah.”
“It looks familiar. I know that’s impossible. I mean, I’ve never been to this part of Connecticut before, but...”
“You’ve probably seen pictures of it on postcards. Typical New England scene, etcetera, etcetera.”
It was a short, almost abrupt answer, delivered in a gruff tone. So much for conversation, Emily thought, and looked straight ahead again.
There was no question about it. Jake was definitely sorry he’d asked her to come with him. She could hear it in his silence, see it in his stern profile, in the way his hands gripped the steering wheel. He was as tense as an overwound spring.
Well, so was she. Jake’s regrets couldn’t be any greater than hers.
Emily clenched her hands together in her lap.
What insanity had made her say yes to his proposal? Why had she said she wanted him to teach her all those things she didn’t know? It wasn’t as if she’d misunderstood him. He was talking about things that happened in bed.
And she’d agreed. She hadn’t even been subtle about it. She’d made it clear sleeping with him was precisely what she wanted but she shouldn’t have. She wasn’t cut out for a quick tumble in a man’s bed.
In Jake’s bed.
Yes, she wanted to know what sex was like. There was something pathetic about reaching this age and knowing only what you’d been taught in Sex Ed, back in high school, or what you’d picked up, over the years, from other women’s comments. Her sisters, especially, made lots of references to sex. Barbed references, that suggested the whole thing wasn’t half as terrific as it was cracked up to be.
Emily wanted to know for herself. She’d thought she did, anyway.
Now, with all this time to consider what came next, she wasn’t so sure.
Was she really supposed to have sex with Jake tonight, go home tomorrow, then show up at work on Monday as if nothing had happened? She had no foolish illusions; this wasn’t an affair she was entering into with him. He’d made that clear. This was part of her transformation from wallflower to woman.
Next week, maybe even sooner, she’d be ordering flowers for his latest conquest, making his dinner reservations, be having politely when some new candidate for McBride’s Playmate of the Month telephoned.
“May I speak to Jake, please?” they always said, in breathy voices that made her think of satin sheets and chilled champagne.
Or they’d show up at the office and she’d be expected to smile politely when he slid his arm around a slender waist and left for the weekend with some oversexed, overdressed, overeverythinged female...
Oh, God!
Emily swung towards Jake. “Stop the car!”
He responded instantly and stood on the brakes. The Corvette gave a sickening lurch. Emily gave a thin scream as Jake fought for control of the car as it slid crazily across the slick blacktop and spun in a drunken circle.
When the car finally came to a stop, it was pointed towards the forest, its headlights burrowing a cavern of light into the darkness. The engine coughed and died. In the sudden silence, Emily could hear the roar of the wind, the rasp of Jake’s breath and the thump-thump of her own heart.
“Holy hell!” Jake reached for her hand and squeezed it hard enough so she felt the imprint of his fingers. “Em? Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she said, past the lump of terror high in her throat. She looked at him. His face was white, his eyes deep, dark pools. “Are you?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He flashed a reassuring smile, squeezed her hand again before putting it into her lap. “Let me just see if the car’s okay. The last thing we need is to have somebody come around that curve and straight into us.” Jake turned the key, held his breath until the engine caught and purred. “Damn,” he said roughly, as he swung the car back into the lane and edged forward, “we almost bought it, that time.”
Emily nodded. “I know. I’m sorry, Jake. I—I guess I wasn’t thinking. It was stupid to yell like that.”
“No need to apologize.” He shot her a quick smile. “Nobody wants to kill Bambi.”
“Bambi?”
“Uh-huh.” Jake leaned forward, peered intently out the windshield. The wipers were working as hard as they could but the snow was too heavy for any real visibility. The turnoff that led to his driveway was just a little further up the road. He could only hope the guy he paid to keep it plowed had already been there. “You’d think the deer would have finally figured it out by now, wouldn’t you? That running across the road in front of a car isn’t a good idea?”
“Oh.” Emily bit her lip. “I didn’t see a deer.” Her voice was soft and small. “I just—I just...” She took a breath. “I thought about what we were doing. And I decided it was a mistake.”
Jake took his eyes off the road long enough to stare at her.
“Excuse me?”
“I said—”
“I heard what you said. I just don’t believe it. You’re telling me you almost got us killed because you suddenly decided you wanted to go home?”
“It wasn’t sudden. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. And how was I supposed to know you’d react by almost crashing the car into a tree?”
“Oh, forgive me.” His words were thick with sarcasm. “The next time I’m driving blind through a storm and the person seated next to me yells ‘Stop,’ I’ll just keep going and hope for the best.”
Emily lifted her chin. “I said I was sorry, didn’t I?”
“You’d be sorrier if we were lying dead back there.”
“Look, what I did was stupid. But I meant what I said, Jake. I want to go back to New York.”
Jake gave a short, sharp laugh. “Yeah? Well, trust me lady. So do I.”
Emily’s heart felt as if somebody were crushing it, which was even stupider than yelling “Stop.” She’d already known Jake had regrets. Why should it upset her, to hear him confirm it?
“Fine,” she said coolly. “That makes the decision unanimous.”
“It damned well does. Unfortunately, neither your vote nor mine counts. This blizzard owns the ballot box.”
“This isn’t a blizzard.” Her voice wobbled a little and she cleared her throat. “I’ll bet you never saw a blizzard in your life. Back home, in Rochester—”
“Trust me. We had blizzards in Pennsylvania, too.”
Pennsylvania? Not New York? Was that where he was from? It was impossible to picture Jake living anywhere but in the elegant canyons of the city. She wanted to ask him where he’d grown up, and how, and what he’d been like as a boy...
But she wouldn’t.
What was the matter with her tonight? You didn’t ask questions like that of a man who’d just told you he was sorry he’d asked you to sleep with him.
“The wind has to blow at least thirty-five miles an hour for a snowstorm to be a blizzard,” she said, blanking her mind to everything but the night and the storm. “And the visibility—”
Blah, blah, blah, Jake thought grimly. There she went, the Emily he knew, who could quote you chapter and verse on everything and anything—except how to be a woman.
The Bedroom Business Page 12