by Lynn Turner
She gasped, and he knew that she was remembering the night they met. “I… Maybe that wasn’t the best word for it.” She stared at his mouth. “Upset. You upset me, I think. Shook me up. Nothing about you was predictable, and I’m good at anticipating things.”
He nodded. “You upset me too. You ruined my social life, by the way. Turns out the brooding type isn’t attractive in men of a certain age.”
“Good. I wasn’t having any fun either, you know. It was impossible to explain to a guy that he couldn’t measure up to something I didn’t even understand.”
He looked down at her and the sweet pain filled his chest again. She was so strong, so powerful despite her small size. Her confidence and command of her profession made her even more attractive to him, and now she was allowing him to see past her bravado to something more vulnerable.
He raised his fingers to trace the fine features of her face, along the faintly smudged makeup around her eyes, a delicate cheekbone, and her still-tender lips. Stopping there, he gently pressed down and they parted, her tongue flicking the tip of his finger.
“Jesus,” he said in reverent baritone, feeling her shiver in response. “What have we wrought?”
He curled an arm around her waist to pull her to him and angled his head to ply her mouth with long, lazy kisses. He heard her sigh and felt her turn so that her body was aligned with his. Her free hand moved to his nape and held his head to hers. He intended to use this moment to show her what he could not put into words. Talk was forsaken and all there was to do was feel.
He wanted her saturated in him, to make her feel like the most treasured woman in the world. The intensity of his feelings overwhelmed him, and he sensed the air between them change. This slow exploration of each other’s bodies bonded them together stronger than before. Just like he could read her most intricate feelings in her eyes, he was reaching out to her with touch.
Her body responded, every part pressing to get closer. They took their time figuring each other out, tuning until they collided in perfect rhythm. She clutched at him and he wrapped his arms around her, not wanting to let go. But the reality was that they would have to let go. After one incredible night together, she was getting on a flight that would put three thousand miles between them and he wanted her to remember—remember this, remember him.
****
The full April moon streamed through the sliding balcony door of Emanuela’s hotel room, bathing the room in soft, blue light. She peppered Finn’s neck and shoulders with kisses before separating their bodies.
“I just need a few minutes.” She pressed a kiss to his lips before rolling out of bed.
He took advantage of the moment to himself, listening to the shower running. He put on his boxers and maneuvered himself to sit at the edge of the bed. Next, he pulled the prosthetic liner over his stump with care and smoothed it up over his knee. He did the same with the sock, and then reached for the leg.
It was a minor inconvenience to take it off and put it on again, but hopping around the hotel room would be uncomfortable, and he didn’t want to just spring his stump on Emanuela. He sat in the armchair of the small sitting area and tried to make sense of what just happened.
The chemistry between them was something he’d never experienced before, not with this intensity. His stomach muscles contracted. He could still feel Emanuela’s thighs gripping his waist.
Yeah, no problem in that department. For whatever reason, he and Emanuela shared a connection that felt spiritual. His instincts told him that she felt it too. He felt it when they made love, the same way he read her tangled emotions in the parking lot hours before. He didn’t know how or why, but whatever it was, he wanted in. The distance was sure to be a challenge, and he needed to know up front if she could handle being with someone like him.
She returned with her hair pulled into a high bun on top of her head, her face clean of makeup, and she’d wrapped a towel around her still-damp form.
So beautiful.
“Hey you,” she said with an impish smile.
“Hey yourself.” He strode to her, leaning to peck her cheek.
Her eyes fell to his bare chest and her face turned pink.
“I’ll take my turn now so you can get dressed without me staring.” He grinned, grabbed his clothes and strolled to the bathroom.
****
Emanuela dried off, slathering on body butter before slipping into fresh panties and an oversized T-shirt. She hadn’t packed formal loungewear or sweats. She hadn’t expected to share the hotel room with anyone.
Not really. Perhaps she had hoped… But there had been no logical reason to suggest that this would happen. None of this is logical. I mean, what was that?
She hadn’t been in a serious relationship in two years. Not since Greg proposed, and the screaming realization hit her that he wasn’t whom she wanted. She stayed with him because, at thirty, she had been “about that age.” He was a good guy, handsome, driven, and loved her. She appreciated the great things about him and felt flattered by his affection, but that’s all it was for her. A fantasy.
She grimaced. She still felt shame at the way she led him on. They worked and mingled in some of the same circles so it was awkward that first year after their breakup. They could speak to each other now, and she was relieved. She wanted him to be happy. That thought brought her back to the present.
Is this what it’s supposed to feel like?
She had written off swarming stomachs and perspiring palms as unrealistic expectations borne of too many chick flicks. None of her relationships had felt that way. The sex may have been good, even great, but nothing like what she just experienced with Finn.
The familiar current ran through her body at the memory of his mouth on her heated skin. She sighed. What now? She bit her lip and stared out at the moon reflecting off the water. She would ask him to stay the night. After that, she wasn’t certain. For now, she wasn’t ready for him to leave her yet.
****
Finn joined her, wearing his pants and the thin, short-sleeved sweater he wore to dinner. “Coffee?”
She was sipping some, black, from a paper cup. She shrugged. “I’m awake.” He sat next to her on the leather loveseat, lifting her legs and pulling them across his lap. “I think I just learned the secret to the success of the formidable Emanuela Monroe.”
“Oh you think so, huh?” She fingered a wet curl that fell over his brow.
“Maybe.”
He was having a hard time getting his thoughts together. He was so resolute in the shower. He wanted to lay himself bare so that she knew what she was getting before he asked if he could call her after tonight. The memory of other women who seemed open to the idea of dating him and later changed their minds nipped at his confidence. He looked into her eyes, which were curious at his somber mood.
“Earlier, you said you couldn’t explain something you didn’t understand…” He hesitated, looking down at her legs and stroking them softly. “What did you mean by that?”
“After all this time, I’m still not sure,” she said, the struggle to find the right words evident in her voice. “Whatever I saw in you, I wanted to be close to it.” She shrugged. “I just wanted to be close to you, for however long.”
All the emotions from that night washed over him and the onslaught churned his stomach. “It was the same for me. But at the same time, I wanted to get far the hell away from you.” He watched her face for any sign of hurt, but to his relief, she just nodded.
“I know.” She frowned. “It was so strange. Almost made me sick.”
He drew in a sharp breath, noticing her stiffen in response.
“What?” she asked.
“That’s exactly how it was for me. It’s how I’m feeling right now.”
She nodded again. “We were both a little off. But your pitch was one of the more memorable ones I’ve had.”
“Don’t remind me. I don’t think I’ve ever botched it like that before.”
“Exc
use me?” She smacked his chest. “Maybe I should rescind that offer.”
He chuckled. He knew she was wide open, and he wanted her to trust him. It was his turn to be exposed. He tapped his leg. “This is the best one I’ve had so far, except I can’t deep sea dive with it.”
She reached for his hand. “How many do you have?”
“Just one. But I’m waiting for the military to finish developing those bionic legs so I can lift cars with my foot.”
Her slim fingers traced his bigger ones. “You don’t have to do that, you know. Self-deprecate. You’ve already seen me naked.”
His eyes raked over her, his pulse jumping at her words. “You have no idea how much I’d like to see that again,” he said, sensing her shiver. “But first I want you to see me too. The real me.” He looked down at their hands. “Only if you’re comfortable.”
“I want to see. I just didn’t know how to ask. Or if I should ask.” She smiled. “I didn’t want to offend you.”
“You haven’t asked me to spank you with it, so this is already an improvement from my last date.”
Emanuela gasped. “No…”
He laughed at her horrified expression. “’Fraid so.” He gently removed her legs from his lap and stood in front of her. “And that was an improvement from the date before that.”
“Oh my God.” She snickered. “That’s awful.”
“Well, some kinky stuff is fun.”
“Ugh.” She narrowed her eyes. “Just drop your pants already!”
He grinned and turned away to do just that, bending to tug them off before coming back to sit beside her. Without further ceremony, he pushed on the front of the leg and a tiny motor whirred. “It’s vacuum sealed,” he said. “The button is hidden beneath this sleeve.”
He pulled down the flesh-colored skin covering his knee and the prosthetic leg. Then, he removed the prosthesis and propped it against the end table, glancing at Emanuela.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“It’s a sock. Just makes it more comfortable. Tighter fit.”
“How does it feel to take it off? Is it like taking your shoes off at the end of the day?”
“Wow.” He smiled wide. “That’s not half bad… It’s more like taking off a snug pair of jeans. Just by the way it feels.”
She nodded and he removed the sock, then peeled off the liner to leave his stump bare.
He watched her a moment, letting her take it in. Her eyes widened. Much of his leg was intact, halfway to his shin. It was smooth and conical, with a long pink scar at the tip of the stump.
“Some assembly required,” he said.
She made a sound that was half-gasp, half-laugh. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I was shocked the first time I saw it too.”
Her lips parted and closed again, darkness clouding her eyes. Finn could read everything in her face, and he silently agreed with the conflict he saw there. Part of him wanted to share the details about what happened, but another part of him wanted to preserve a moment that was new and exciting and full of promise. Another time. If she gives me a chance.
He lifted his stump, extending it in front of him. “Sometimes people are surprised I can move it. I can do just about anything, but walking tends to require two feet.”
She laughed. “I don’t doubt that you can do whatever you put your mind to.” She scooted in closer. “If not, we may have never even met.”
“It’s true.” He snaked an arm around her waist. “And when I heard from your office, I knew my fate was in your capable hands, and part of me couldn’t wait to see you again.”
Her eyes turned the deepest shade of brown he’d seen from her yet. “Which part?” she whispered.
He groaned at the suggestive way she was looking at him and dragged her across his lap. “All of me,” he said, against her lips. “Every part.”
Chapter Eight
One Week Later
“They’re ready for you, Miss Monroe,” Lydia said, sticking her head into Emanuela’s office. “Is there anything else you need?”
“Nope, thanks, Lids!”
Emanuela drained her coffee cup before collecting the materials she needed for the meeting. She jumped right back into the thick of things after she returned to New York. It wasn’t difficult keeping busy. There was still the matter of finding a manufacturer for Finn’s and Simon’s smart limbs, and creating a demand among medical appliance companies, hospitals and the like before the innovative technology hit the market. Philip met her in the hallway.
“Morning, Em. Wow.” He glanced at the stack of papers in her arms. “What’s all that?”
“Supporting materials for Brian.”
Philip chuckled, shaking his head and matching her stride.
“I don’t intend to sit in the conference room all day, so I took the liberty of printing everything he’ll interrupt me to ask for ahead of time,” she said.
He allowed her to precede him into the conference room. “Your foresight is very much appreciated.”
“Good morning,” she said, distributing handouts to the six other people in the room. She approached Brian’s seat, and his eyes grew wide at the more significant stack she handed him, shooting her a dubious glare.
“I know how much you hate to be unprepared,” she said, with saccharine civility before moving to take her own seat.
Philip reclined in his chair beside her, resting his elbow on the table and nodding the okay for her to start the meeting.
“This won’t take long,” she said. “There are some significant changes taking place this time around, and I’m prepared to answer any questions you might have moving forward.”
Before anyone else could reply, Brian chimed in. “I don’t see why we need to sabotage the business practices that have been working for us for years. We’ve had partnerships with Chinese manufacturing companies for over a decade,” he said, as though Emanuela was oblivious to the company’s history and needed a refresher course.
She fought the urge to roll her eyes. “We’ve enjoyed an amicable business relationship with Chinese manufacturers over the years; however, as the first item in your packet shows, the changing economic climate here in the States demands that we reevaluate where we send our business.” She surveyed the room to gauge the reactions of the others. Deciding they were with her, she moved on. “I understand this change will incur higher costs on our end, but we have a pretty impressive list of new manufacturers, both here and in Mexico, who can compete with the quality and efficiency of Chinese manufacturing companies. The cost of—”
“What’s the difference between going with the manufacturers in China we’ve already built relationships with and shipping everything off to Mexico?” Brian asked.
If you’d let me finish my thought, you’d have your answer, asshole. A migraine was coming on, and she willed it away. “The cost of transport and warehousing will be significantly lower with more localized manufacturers.” Prick. He took a breath to speak again and she snapped, “You’ll find NAFTA regulations in the second item,” without looking at him.
She didn’t need to look to know Philip’s grin was there, and some of her irritation faded. “Not only will nearshoring our business improve relations between us and consumers, but if we can establish production sharing between us and Mexico, even Canada, we’re likely to see a boost in economic activity between the regions.”
“Which makes us all a little more money,” Philip said. “I like where this is going, Em.”
Emanuela smiled. Her attention to detail was second nature to her, to lift every edge and turn every leaf. She was Philip’s biggest asset in the firm and everyone sitting there knew it, including Brian, who clearly couldn’t resist speaking up again.
“It makes the laborers more money, too,” he said, somehow making the statement sound perverse. “We’re paying to transport them to and from facilities, regulatory costs, materials, labor—the list goes on and on.”
Emanuela’s patienc
e unraveled. “It shines a spotlight on us as a leader in ethical business practices, as highlighted in item three in your packet. Ethics concern most of us in this room. I would hope it’s pretty high on your list of priorities too.”
The atmosphere in the room shifted uncomfortably, and Emanuela caught Philip’s look of concern. Mercifully, he took over. “I’m sure we can all agree that change is necessary and good, but also comes with its own unique set of challenges. We need to work closely over the next few weeks to make sure we transition smoothly. In order for us to do that, we need to communicate effectively and often. Whatever concerns we have, we hash it out here. Understood?”
The meeting carried on for the further space of an hour before everyone felt confident enough to execute their individual tasks with limited supervision. Emanuela moved to get up from the table, and Philip gently grabbed her arm. “Is everything okay, Em?”
“Yeah.” She looked at him with a strained smile. “Why do you ask?”
“What was that?”
She rubbed her temples and released an exasperated sigh. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I went berserk.” She was accustomed to Brian’s passive aggressiveness and would typically have a laugh at his expense or just ignore him. He was an asshole, but he was a valued member of the team and, as head of the financial division, his input mattered.
“Oh, Richards deserved every bit of the lashing you gave him,” Philip said of Brian dismissively. “He’s an ass. But it’s not like you to let it get to you, so what gives? Do you need some time off? You’ve certainly earned it.” He rubbed her wrist with his thumb.
Emanuela became hyper aware of his touch on her skin, and eased her arm from his grasp. “I’m fine. I think I just need to eat. You pay me well but the food here leaves much to be desired.” She threw a pointed look at what was left of the assortment of danishes and donuts on the table.
Philip laughed. “Come on! Those are good! Catered, not store-bought.”
His look of feigned insult made her giggle, improving her mood. She gathered her things and walked through the door he held for her.