Blitzing Emily

by Julie Brannagh

  “Oh, you can just drop me off—”

  “There will be no ‘dropping off.’” His voice was stern. “You’re doing exactly what Cheryl and the doctor told us. You have to go straight to bed. Let’s get you there.”

  “I can’t figure out why you are doing this. Yeah, I fell down, but it wasn’t like you did it. I’m not mad at you. Plus, you have other pla—”

  “Give me the address.”

  “I’m on Alder Crest Road in Redmond Ridge. My townhouse is the first one on the corner.” Emily had the phone up to her ear. “Simone, it’s Emily Hamilton.” She listened intently for a few moments. “Not a good time?” He heard a peal of laughter. “Have a great evening with him. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  Emily punched the “end” button, and appeared to be thinking. She dialed her phone once more.

  “Janey, it’s Emily. Hey, are you busy right now?” She was nodding like Janey was in the car with them. “I understand. Happy Valentine’s Day. I’ll see you soon.” She disconnected her call, and glanced over at Brandon.

  “Remember that conversation we had about how everyone you know has plans tonight?” He gave her what he hoped was a sympathetic smile. “It might be a pretty tall order to find someone available.”

  Brandon listened while Emily made call after call.

  “I’m screwed. Actually, I’m the only one who’s not, according to everyone who’s actually answering their phone.” Her phone rang; Brandon had to smile at the excitement in her voice. “Tristan. How are you doing?”

  Brandon couldn’t hear how Tristan was doing, but he heard Emily’s sharp intake of breath.

  “Oh, no. I really need your help. I had an accident, and I can’t be left alone tonight. No, no. I’m okay, I just . . . Is there any way that you and Jason could possibly come over? I know it’s a huge imposition.” She listened for a moment, said, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll call my mom and dad. You two have a great evening.”

  Emily sagged against the passenger seat. So, Tristan wasn’t her boyfriend.

  “Tristan said that unless I wanted to witness him performing acts on Jason that are illegal in thirty-seven states, it probably was not going to happen tonight.” She let out a sigh, and intoned, “It’s time to call my parents.”

  “Sounds like a rugged phone call, sugar.”

  Emily rolled her eyes. The movement must have hurt because she flinched.

  “It’s not that I don’t want to see them. They’re going to freak out. I’d rather avoid it.” She fiddled with her phone again, and listened for a few minutes. “Mom, it’s Emily. I spent the afternoon at Evergreen, and I need your help. Love you. Bye.”

  “Let me guess. They’re not home, either.” Brandon turned onto Alder Crest Road, and Emily pointed to the townhouse on the corner.

  “That’s mine.”

  He pulled into the driveway, shut off the ignition, and turned to her expectantly. “So, invite me in.”

  “Look,” Emily dropped the phone back into her purse. “I really appreciate your taking me to the hospital, staying with me, and driving me home, but I was wondering if I could ask you for one more favor.”

  He got out of the car, crossed to the passenger door, and opened it. “Let’s have this conversation inside.”

  AFTER A SHORT tutorial on which key fit in the front lock, Brandon followed Emily into her house. She promptly tripped on the luggage left in the entryway. He reached out, caught her around the waist, and set her back on her feet.

  “Your roommate should clean up more often.”

  Emily wriggled out of his grasp and bent down to unzip her boots. She clutched her head. “No roommate,” she said.

  “Maybe you should sit down before trying that.”

  She limped across the living room to a pair of leather couches. “I just got home from San Jose. I’ll drag them upstairs to unpack at some point.”

  “That’s the least of your problems right now.”

  “I have to be onstage at McCaw Hall at ten o’clock tomorrow morning,” Emily told him. “I don’t have time for this.” She dropped both boots on the carpeting and leaned back against the couch. She pushed a curtain of strawberry-blonde curls out of her eyes with one hand. “Please sit down.”

  “You might want to reschedule,” he told her.

  “I have to go. I have rehearsals. I’m performing in The Marriage of Figaro in two weeks,” Emily said. “It’s an opera.”

  “You’re an opera singer?” Brandon realized his mouth was hanging open. He blurted his question out in the same tone of voice he might have used to say, “You’re a convicted felon?” or “You were raised by wolves?”

  “The technical term is ‘diva.’”

  He was having a rough time wrapping his brain around this. “But you’re not fat. Opera singers are . . . larger. They wear headgear with horns sticking out on either side.”

  “That’s only for The Ring,” Emily said.

  “I saw that movie. That little girl’s eyes . . . She freaked me out,” he muttered.

  “Most opera singers now are normal weight,” she continued. “I have to have the physical strength to lift my voice past a sixty-person orchestra without a microphone, though, so I work out, and I practice every day.”

  “How long have you been doing this?”

  Emily propped two stockinged feet on a wood-and-glass coffee table. “Most of my life. I started ballet at three. I entered a training program with a former diva in my teens. After that, I went to a conservatory. I’ve been performing with opera companies in the US and Europe ever since.”

  “This isn’t like finding a job on Craigslist. You have someone representing you, like an agent.”

  His interest surprised Emily. Usually, guys outside of her little world ran away when they heard the word “opera.”

  “Yes. It depends on what operas the company is presenting each year, that kind of thing.”

  “Do you listen to other types of music?”

  “Sometimes.” She gestured toward the iPod stereo system on a nearby table. “You can take a look at what’s on my playlists if you’d like. Have you heard an opera before?” Opera? He considered himself a pretty open-minded guy, but he drew the line at that kind of thing. “Oh, all the time.”

  She closed her eyes, but he saw her lips curve into a smile. “You might like it,” she teased. “It’s a play, set to music.”

  “And you act as well as sing.” He sat up and leaned toward her. “And you have to be there tomorrow.”

  She heaved a long sigh. “I have a substitute—actually she’s called a ‘cover’—but I really can’t miss the rehearsal. It’s only two weeks till we debut. There’s a lot to get done.”

  She wasn’t meeting his eyes. She was twisting her hands in her lap. Obviously there was something else going on here, but he’d deal with the more immediate issues first.

  “You know, it’s fairly typical for NFL players to gut it out and play hurt, but other industries frown somewhat on that kind of thing. Take a couple of days off and heal up.”

  She rubbed one hand over her face. “I . . . I’ll be fine. I need to work. I’m sure this will go away by morning, and everything will be perfect.” She struggled to her feet. “Let me get you something to drink. What would you like?”

  She was swaying again, and he grabbed her elbow. This woman did not know when to give up. He wondered if she ever relaxed.

  “I can get it,” he said.

  She collapsed on the couch in a heap, leaning back against the dark leather. He finally figured out the décor as he glanced around the room: corporate hotel. He’d never seen a house so sterile. Emily might own the place, but she didn’t live here. He wondered where she spent most of her time.

  “I’ll rustle us up a bite to eat—”

  “Uh—wait.” She sounded a bit panicked. “There’s not a lot of food here,” she admitted. “I eat out a lot.”

  “I do amazing things with a telephone and a delivery menu. Take it e
asy.”

  “I’m so sorry, Brandon, but I should go lie down.”

  She pushed herself off the couch again. Before she could take another uneven step he slipped his arm around her waist and took her other hand. Her forehead drooped onto his chest like one of the wilted daffodils in his mother’s garden.

  She dropped his hand. Her arms clasped loosely around him. He knew she was only trying to keep her balance, but a jolt of attraction sizzled through every nerve in his body. She rubbed her face against his shirt front like a cat.

  “Let me find a pillow and a blanket for you. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

  “If you decide to let yourself out, please lock the front door and put the key under the mat. There’s a key hanging up in the kitchen by the calendar.”

  “You’re trying awfully hard to get rid of me. I think my feelings are hurt.” He kept his voice light.

  “Thank you for taking care of me. It was nice to meet you.”

  “I’ll be here when you wake up,” he said.

  After a quick search, Brandon spread a blanket over her. He tucked a pillow beneath her head, too. Her eyelids fluttered closed. A few minutes later, her even breathing told him she was asleep.

  A GENTLE HAND shook Emily’s shoulder and a sweetly accented voice in her ear said, “Hey, sugar. Talk to me for a few minutes.”

  “Not interested.” She pulled a pillow over her face. He took it away from her. “That is mine.” She tried to scowl at him.

  “It’s mine now,” Brandon joked. “How are you feeling?”

  “Sleepy. Need to sleep,” she mumbled.

  “Do you know where you are right now?”

  She shook her head. “You’re waking me up. I want to sleep. I can’t believe you’re still here.”

  Emily’s outrage was surprisingly funny. He perched on the edge of the couch.

  “Let’s see if I can torment you some more.”

  She tried to push him away. “Noooo. I want to sleep. Leave me alone.”

  She let out a contented sigh as she snuggled into her pillows again.

  “See you in two hours. I’ll be the hot guy you can’t resist.”

  “No,” she protested. He couldn’t stop laughing.

  “Damn, you’re cranky when you first wake up.”

  Emily definitely wouldn’t be starring in Sleeping Beauty. He knew she was probably in pain and a little cranky as a result, but he couldn’t resist teasing her a bit.

  She let out an irritated groan.

  “How would you feel . . .” Her words trailed off as she turned into the pillow once more.

  BRANDON TRIED TO adhere to the doctor’s schedule, but Emily was surprisingly resistant to his efforts.

  “Hey, it’s time for you to talk with me again,” he said.

  “Don’t wanna.” This time, she pulled the blanket over her head. Brandon pried them away from her face. She rewarded him with a glare that should have melted flesh.

  “You said that last time. You’re going to have to come up with something more original. Dazzle me.”

  “Bite me.”

  “The kitten has claws.”

  She let out a long, tortured sigh. “You’re really enjoying this.”

  “I’m wounded, sugar. And here I thought you liked me.”

  “Oh, yeah. Just like a cold sore.” He saw her lips curve into a smile. She shoved herself into a sitting position. “Did anyone call?”

  “It’s been quiet.”

  He was surprised her mother hadn’t called. His parents would have been on the next flight out if he left a message like that on their voice mail. Then again, he hadn’t asked them for help for several years now. Maybe her parents were out of town.

  THE NEXT TIME she opened her eyes, Emily decided she could stand up without falling over. She needed to make a few phone calls. The sound of the television from upstairs told her Brandon was otherwise occupied, at least temporarily.

  Emily’s manager David took the news of the spill in the parking lot much better than she thought he would. David never missed an opportunity to panic. Today he seemed somewhat calm.

  “I’m assuming you think you’re going to rehearsals tomorrow,” he said.

  “There is no way Anna will be singing this role.”

  “Let me call the floor director. Nobody would call anyone with a concussion ‘difficult,’ so don’t worry about it. Just get better. Amy must be there with you.”

  He’d always been a little sweet on Emily’s sister. Of course, Amy thought he was a mutant.

  “She’s at the shop today, David.” Maybe Amy should tell David to buzz off. Again. Emily got tired of relaying his messages.

  “Be sure and tell her I said ‘hello.’”

  “I’ll keep you updated.”

  Moments after she hung up with David the phone rang. Amy didn’t even bother to say “hello.”

  “You never called me.”

  “There was a little accident,” Emily told her.

  “That’s awful. Are you okay?” Amy paused, but only for a moment. “There was something on the news about a huge bunch of Mylar balloons that are now tangled in the grid work on top of Sharks Stadium.” Emily was silent. “Please tell me they are not the balloons that were supposed to go to Brandon McKenna.”

  With more than a little trepidation, Emily told Amy her tale of woe. For once Amy listened without interrupting, except the few times that she gasped.

  “Brandon drove me home.”

  “Brandon. Brandon McKenna?”

  “That’s what I said. Please don’t yell.”

  “Where is he now?”

  Emily knew that if she didn’t confess, Amy would get in the car and come over to find out for herself.

  “Upstairs watching TV,” she finally admitted.

  Amy let out an “Oh, my God” Emily was sure they heard in the next county. She couldn’t believe she was the only one with a sister whose volume was stuck on “shout.” It left her clutching her head.

  “Ame, knock it off. That hurts.”

  “Sorry.” She didn’t sound sorry at all in Emily’s opinion. “So, he’s still there. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Sure.” Sarcasm dripped from every syllable.

  “Yes, I’m totally lying to you. I’m having hot monkey sex with a guy I met oh, maybe four or five hours ago, while my head feels like it’s going to pop right off my body,” Emily said.

  “Okay, okay, okay. I get it.” Amy paused. “So, how hot is he?”

  “He’ll come back downstairs at any time. Do we need to talk about this now?”

  “Come on,” her sister wheedled. “Throw me a bone.”

  “David’s looking for you.”

  “David is a money-grubbing moron. I can’t believe I didn’t go over there myself. You probably saw other Sharks there, too.”

  “I wouldn’t know. I’m not the football fan.”

  “Okay. There are a few things I need to tell you about.”

  Emily heard the toilet flush in the master bathroom.

  “I gotta go.”

  “Call me if you need me,” Amy said, and she hung up.

  Chapter Three

  * * *

  EMILY HAD BARELY enough time to hang up the cordless and flip on the TV before Brandon wandered down the stairs.

  “Hey,” he said, and he threw himself down on the couch next to her.

  His blond curls were tangled, his eyes sleepy, and she saw a pillowcase crease on his cheek. He looked completely innocent, until she saw the wicked twinkle in his eyes. Even in dirty workout clothes, he was breathtaking. She wondered if it was possible to ovulate on demand.

  “I’m guessing you took a nap,” she said.

  “I was supposed to be watching you.” He tried to look penitent. It wasn’t working.

  “Glad to know you’re making yourself comfortable,” she teased.

  He stretched his arm around the back of the couch.

  “Everything in your room
smells like flowers, and your bed’s great.” He pulled up the edge of his t-shirt and sniffed it. Emily almost drooled at a glimpse of his rock-hard abdomen. Evidently, it was possible to have more than a six pack. “The guys will love my new perfume. Maybe they’ll want some makeup tips,” he muttered, and grabbed for the remote Emily left on the coffee table.

  He clicked through the channels at a rapid pace.

  “Excuse me. I had that.” She lunged for it. No such luck. Emily ended up sprawled across his lap.

  “The operative word here, sugar, is ‘had.’” He held it up in the air out of her reach while he continued to click. He’d wear a hole in his thumb if he kept this up. “No NFL Network.” She tried to sit up again, which wasn’t working well. Of course, he was chuckling at her struggles. “Oh, I get it. You’re heading for second base.”

  “Hardly.” Emily reached over and tried to push off on the other arm of the couch. One beefy arm wrapped around her. “I’m not trying to do anything. Oh, whatever.”

  “You know, if you want a kiss, all you have to do is ask.”

  She couldn’t imagine how he managed to look so innocent while smirking.

  “I haven’t had a woman throw herself in my lap for a while now. This could be interesting,” he said.

  Emily’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. “I did not throw myself in your lap.”

  “Could’ve fooled me. Which one of us is—”

  “Let go of me.” She was still trying to grab the remote, without success.

  “You’ll fall,” he warned.

  “What’s your point?”

  “Here.” He stuck the remote down the side of the couch cushion so Emily couldn’t grab it. He grasped her upper arms, righted her with no effort at all, and looked into her eyes. “All better. Shouldn’t you be resting, anyway?”

  Emily tried to take a breath. Their bodies were frozen. He held her, and she gazed into his face. His dimple appeared, vanished, appeared again. She licked her lips with the microscopic amount of moisture left in her mouth. He was fighting a smile, but even more, he dipped his head toward her. He was going to kiss her.

  “Yes,” she said.

  Her voice sounded weak, but it was all she could do to push it out of lungs that had no air at all. He continued to watch her, and he gradually moved closer. Their mouths were inches apart. Emily couldn’t stop looking at his lips. After a few moments that seemed like an eternity, he released her and dug the remote from the couch cushion. She felt a stab of disappointment. He had changed his mind.