There’d be no more of that, now. And he’d miss it. All of it, although how he could miss things he’d barely had were beyond him.
So, what was the bottom line here? Why would a woman walk away from an affair when it was still at the hot, electric start?
And “hot” was the word.
Lord, what a weekend. They were perfect together. Better than perfect. Emily was an incredible combination of innocent and sexy.
“Let me,” she’d whispered this afternoon, after he’d brought her to release with his mouth. And she’d knelt between his legs, touched him with her tongue, tasted him, pleasured him, and oh, the joy of it, the unbelievable pleasure because sex was different with his sparrow, everything was different, it was—
“Dammit-to-hell!” Jake snarled, and slammed the empty bottle on the counter.
He was wrong. Nothing was different with Emily except, maybe, the way she played the game. Yeah, that was it. She’d lured him on. The shapeless suits. The pulled-back hair. The polite, impersonal way she spoke. “Yes, Mr. McBride.” “No, Mr. McBride.” Even those horrible personal ads she’d said she was going to answer. It was all part of the game, designed to—
To what?
She’d worked for him for almost a year. And in all that time, she’d never looked at him as if he were a man any more than he’d looked at her as if she was a woman. She hadn’t been playing a game. If anyone had been playing games, it was him.
Oh, he’d explained, told her he was going to help her change into a woman men would desire but, in the end, he was the man who’d desired her.
Now, she could go out and practice what he’d taught her with someone else.
Jake felt as if a hand had torn open his chest and ripped out his heart.
His Emily, with another man?
No. No, he couldn’t let that happen. He wanted—he wanted...
He didn’t know what he wanted, and it was all Emily’s fault. She’d taken a perfectly simple thing, a weekend in bed, and turned it into an equation as complex as quantum mechanics.
Jake’s jaw tightened. He switched off the kitchen light, strode into his bedroom, and got undressed.
He would tell her that, tomorrow morning. He had that California meeting but no way was he going to fly west until this was settled.
“Emily,” he’d say, “you overreacted. But because you’re new to all this, I’m going to give you another chance. We’ll forget all about that nasty little scene Sunday night. We can pretend it never happened...”
And if she laughed in his face, then what?
Jake got into bed, folded his hands beneath his head and stared into the darkness.
He could fire her. That was what.
He switched off the light, rolled on his belly and pummeled his pillow into shape.
Half an hour later, he switched the light on, folded his hands under his head again and glared at the ceiling.
He wouldn’t fire her. How could he, when that was probably exactly what she expected so she could call him a vindictive bastard on top of everything else?
Anyway, it wouldn’t come to that. She wouldn’t laugh when he offered her the chance to turn back the clock. She’d go into his arms, kiss him, and just that easily, they’d agree to keep the office business in the office and the bedroom business where it belonged.
Jake smiled.
He knew, in his heart, that was what Emily really wanted. It was just that women were such emotional creatures. Not that he’d say so. Hell, that comment he’d made, about hormones and the time of the month...
“You were just asking for trouble, pal,” he muttered.
Still, it was true. Female feelings gyrated like the stock market on a really bad day. Victims of emotion, all of them, even Emily. Really, what would women do without men to ensure that the world remained a logical place?
Okay. He had it all sorted out. Go to San Diego tomorrow, come back on Tuesday, don’t phone her or do anything until he saw her at the office on Wednesday. Give her lots of time to think about the mistake she’d made. Keep her worrying, even turn panicky when she realized how much she missed him...
Yes, indeed.
When he turned out the light, Jake McBride fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The snow that had blanketed Connecticut had left the city of Rochester untouched, which was a rare event because, growing up, Emily had thought of her hometown as the Snow Capital of the Universe.
She thought of that now, as she began preparing dinner for her sisters in the house the two of them shared, and wasn’t it great that it wasn’t snowing?
Coming back to the place you thought you’d escaped, having to ask your sisters if you might stay with them for a while, was difficult enough. Doing it while the city was trapped under an inverted white bowl would have made it seem twice as dreary.
Not that she didn’t like Rochester. Her roots were here, and her family. Of course, her parents didn’t know she was back. Not yet. She’d wait, give herself time to find a job, an apartment and, most of all, a logical excuse for coming home.
She didn’t want her mother looking at her father with her eyebrows raised, the way Serena had looked at Angela when she’d arrived on their doorstep with a bird, a birdcage, and three big suitcases Monday evening.
“Hi,” she’d said brightly. “Can I move in with you guys for a while?”
“Of course,” her sisters had said, and then they’d looked at each other, and she’d read all the questions in their faces but they were her sisters, and it was okay to look right back and tell them there wasn’t a way in the world she was going to answer any questions.
Emily sighed.
She’d never imagined coming back for anything but a visit.
She’d had such big plans when she left for New York all those years ago. An exciting career, in an exciting city...
Emily blew a curl off her forehead, opened the oven door and checked on the meat loaf baking inside.
And she’d had that, until she’d ruined it all.
The sad thing was that she’d never thought about having a man in her life, except in the most casual way, until she’d gone to work for Jake. And then, as the months passed, she’d begun to wonder if she wasn’t missing something ... something like her tall, dark and handsome boss, who often visited her in her dreams.
Strange, how she’d never admitted that to herself until Sunday night, when she’d done nothing but dream of Jake. Of course, those dreams had been different. She’d buried him alive in a snowbank, in one dream. And she’d chained him to his bed and fed him cephalopod mollusks until he begged for mercy in another.
Emily slammed the oven door, went to the pantry and took out an onion and some potatoes.
So much for dreams, and so much for Jake. She was home and happy to be here. Rochester was a big place. She’d find a good job, a great apartment, and she’d never waste another second of her life, thinking about Jacob McBride.
She’d already wasted a lot of tears on him, and for what? The thing they’d done, the bedroom business, had been nothing but an aberration. It had taken her all of Monday to realize it, but that was all it was.
Her heart, thank goodness, was intact.
Serena and Angela didn’t think so.
“It’s a man,” they’d kept saying. “It has to be, Emily. You fell in love and he broke your heart. That’s why you ran away.”
And finally Emily had admitted that yes, there’d been a man, but she hadn’t fallen in love and she hadn’t run away.
“I just got tired of New York, that’s all. Nobody broke my heart.”
Certainly not, she thought as she peeled the onion and diced it. Just because she’d packed her things, sold her furniture to the superintendent, arranged to have her books, her CDs and some other stuff packed and shipped, and put herself and Horace on a train all in one day, didn’t mean she’d run away.
A tear ran down her cheek. “Damned onions,” she muttered, and
wiped the dampness away with her apron.
She had not run. Why would she? She had ended her relationship with Jake, if you could call a night a relationship. Then, after she’d thought it over, she’d decided a preemptive strike made sense. So she’d quit, before he could have the satisfaction of firing her, quit without notice or warning and left him in the lurch.
It was a great feeling.
Emily smiled tightly as she peeled the potatoes and cut them in quarters.
Oh, if only she could see the look on his handsome face when he came into the office Wednesday and found her gone. No Emily to make his appointments. Type his letters. Keep his files. No Emily to make his coffee, take his dictation, organize his notes...
Lie in his arms.
She frowned, took out a pot, dumped the potatoes in and filled it with water.
Where had that silly thought come from? Jake would hardly notice. He’d have some other woman in his arms before the week ended. Yes, maybe she’d dented his ego a little because he was the one who was supposed to end things.
After all, he was the Great Jake McBride.
“Great Egotistical Jerk, is more like it,” she muttered, as she put the pot on the stove and turned on the burner.
Did he think every woman he bedded really wanted to spend the rest of her life with him?
“Ha,” Emily said.
She didn’t want to spend her life with any male, except for Horace. As for that nonsense she’d spun in her head, that she’d fallen in love with Jake...
“Ha,” she said again, and Horace chirped and fluttered his wings as if he found the idea as preposterous as she did. She didn’t love Jake. It was just sex that had made her think so. All those shooting stars going off...
Yes, the sex had been terrific. But love?
“No way,” she muttered, but the conviction in her head didn’t connect with the anguish in her heart and, dammit, there she was, crying again. It was ridiculous. She’d been weeping, on and off, since Sunday night, which was why Serena and Angela kept exchanging those looks...
“Who is he?” Serena had asked, just this morning.
“Probably some fast-talking used-car salesman like the one I divorced,” Angela had said, answering the question when Emily wouldn’t.
“No,” Serena had replied, “he’s probably a duplicate of the skirt-chasing SOB I got rid o£” Then she’d put her arm around Emily and hugged her. “Sweetie, what can we tell you? Men are all the same. Even the ones who look like pet mice are only rats in disguise.”
“Jake doesn’t look like a pet anything,” Emily had said, her voice wobbling, “but you’re right, he’s a grade A, 100% rat.”
And he was.
Emily yanked a paper towel from the roll, wiped her eyes and blew her nose.
This was ridiculous. She had not, repeat, not, loved Jake. Why would she? He was gorgeous and sexy and fun to be with but he wasn’t the lovable kind.
If she cried, it was over her own foolishness in falling for him. In thinking she’d fallen for him, because she hadn’t. She hadn’t. She—
“Emily? I’m ho-ome.”
Emily blew her nose again and tried, unsuccessfully, to tuck her hair behind her ears.
Angela was here. That meant Serena would be coming in, too, in just a few minutes. And she wasn’t going to have either of them sneak little looks at her, or at each other, anymore. The very last thing she needed right now was to have her two beautiful sisters feeling sorry for her. She’d had enough of that in high school to last a lifetime.
“There you are, Emily.” Angela, looking elegant as always, her blond hair shiny and smooth, her blue eyes sparkling, slipped an arm around Emily’s waist and hugged her. “Mmm. Something smells good.”
“Meat loaf,” Emily said, and felt two gigantic tears trickle down her cheeks.
“Oh, Em.” Angela sighed and put her hands on Emily’s shoulders. “Sweetie, don’t! Whoever he is, he’s not worth it.”
Emily nodded and wiped her eyes. “You’re right,” she said briskly. “And—and I’m not crying. I was—I was chopping onions.”
“Onions?” Serena said, as she entered the kitchen. “Great. I don’t have a date tonight, so...” She bit her lip, shot a guilty look at Emily. “I mean, I adore onions. And what’s that luscious smell?”
“Meat loaf,” Angela said, and shot a warning look at her sister.
Serena raised her eyebrows. “What? I like meat loaf. I wouldn’t say anything bad about meat...” She looked at Emily. “Oh, Emily. Sweetie, you’re crying.”
“I am not crying. What’s with you two? Don’t you know onion tears when you see them?”
Serena turned her crystalline blue gaze on Emily, put an arm around her and hugged her. Strands of perfectly groomed, dark gold hair brushed Emily’s cheek.
“You have to believe us,” she said firmly. “Whoever he is, he’s not worth it.”
“For heaven’s sake, I am not crying about a man. Can’t you two get that straight?”
“You’ve been crying since you got here,” Angela said sternly. “And just look at what it’s done to you. Serena, have you ever seen a redder nose? And those swollen eyes, all red-ringed. Honestly, Emily...”
“Honestly, Angela,” Emily said, with a little laugh, “I hoped you’d appreciate the fact that I’m color-coordinated. Red nose, red eyes...” She waited for her sisters to smile, but they didn’t. “Oh, come on, guys. Lighten up. After all, it’s just like old times, right? You’re portraits of perfection. And I’m a mess.”
Angela and Serena, each three swanlike inches taller than Emily, exchanged looks over her head.
“You don’t have to be,” Serena said gently. “You could use my cucumber pads on your eyes. And I have a cream that would do wonders for your nose.”
“Yes,” Angela said, just as gently. “Emily, you know, looking better would make you feel better.”
Emily sighed. “I don’t think so.”
“Oh, it would. I mean, just look at what you’re wearing. Baggy old jeans. A ratty sweatshirt. And your hair...”
“Would you believe I had it cut and styled on Saturday, by a guy who styles the hair of half the models in New York?”
“No,” her sisters said, with one voice.
Emily put on a pair of mitts, opened the oven and peered at the meat loaf.
“Well, I did. And his hair was blonder and longer than yours„
“Now, Emily...”
“Look, both of you.” Emily took a deep breath. “I know you mean well. But I have to work this out for myself.”
Angela and Serena exchanged looks again. “Ah-ha.”
Emily yanked off the oven mitts. “Okay. So I ran away. Well, you would have, too. I made the mistake of getting involved with a no-good rat. A fast-talking, lying, cheating, miserable rat who—who—”
“They’re all liars, and fast-talking rats,” said Angela.
“Yes,” Serena said. “And they cheat, too.”
Tears rose in Emily’s eyes again. “He didn’t cheat,” she said miserably. “He didn’t lie, either. That’s the problem. He told me, straight out, that he wasn’t the forever kind. That he just wanted me for—for sex.”
“I never, ever said that, Sparrow,” a man’s voice said.
Emily, Angela and Serena all spun around. Emily’s eyes widened with shock. Angela’s and Serena’s eyes widened, too, but not with shock.
“Jake?” Emily whispered.
“You’re damned right, it’s Jake,” Jake said coldly. “And you’re lucky it is. What’s the matter with you women? You think you can just leave doors open and only the good fairy will take you up on the invitation?”
Angela looked at Serena, who blushed. “I forgot. I wore boots, because it was supposed to snow, and I took them off outside...”
“Jake?” Emily said again. Her heart felt as if it were trying to leap out of her chest. She put her hand over it, as if that might slow its race. “Jake, what are you doing h
ere?”
Jake stared at Emily. What was he doing here? He’d had a speech all planned, about how she’d scared the hell out of him by running off like that, about how he was totally and completely ticked off, that a really good executive assistant would never do such a thing... but now that he was here, he was tongue-tied.
Well, no wonder. What time zone was this, anyway? What day? What year? Yesterday, he’d been in California, sitting through a meeting with all the attentiveness of a chimpanzee at a ballet. People were spouting facts and numbers like hyperactive geysers but the only thing he could think of was what would happen to him if he lost Emily.
Eventually, he’d excused himself to the bewildered CEO, gone into the hall, pulled out his cell phone and called her. He’d tried to, anyway. But she didn’t answer the phone in the office and when he called her at home, he got a recorded voice that said the number had been disconnected.
The panic he’d felt had made his blood run cold.
He’d gone back to the meeting, made some halfhearted excuse, headed for the airport and paced the first class lounge and dialed Emily’s apartment and his office until the battery on his cell phone died.
While he paced, he came up with half a dozen scenarios to explain her absence, each one worse than the last.
The only thing he knew for certain was that his Emily, his sweet little sparrow, his impossible, pigheaded sparrow, had disappeared from his life.
How would he find her? Detectives? Private investigators? The police?
At last, he’d boarded a plane. And halfway over the country, the solution had come to him. He had Mrs. Levy’s name. He had her address. He had an inflight phone...
“Jake? I asked you a question. How did you find me?”
“Mrs. Levy told me.”
Emily felt behind her for a chair. Her legs were wobbly. Jake looked so angry. So enraged.
So handsome.
Oh, so handsome. And so disheveled. He’d tossed his overcoat on a chair, undone his jacket, loosened his tie. He kept running his hands through his hair so that it lay in heavy waves against his forehead. He hadn’t shaved, either; his jaw was stubbled and with what she knew was painfully bad timing, she remembered how it had felt that first time he’d made love to her, when his stubbled jaw had rubbed against her skin. Against her breasts...
The Bedroom Business Page 17