“No,” Dylan said coldly.
Jordan looked taken aback by the frosty tone. “Is she seeing someone?”
“Yep.”
“Aw too bad.” Yeah, run along Jordan.
“Well she’s an absolute legend, I’ll be a customer for life.” You do that. Jordan took the hint and left. Dylan found every excuse in the book to linger, he rationalized to himself as he stalled.
Finally, it was down to Nell, Arthur, Emerson and Dylan. “Young Chambers,” Arthur said, pumping his hand, “Good of you to come out and support little Em.”
“Thank you sir.”
“Would you mind staying a spell? Help Emerson close up shop?”
Say what? Emerson shot Dylan a look of panic. “I’m sure the mayor is very busy.”
“Not at all,” Dylan said smoothly, “I’d be happy to help.”
“Very fine,” Arthur said. He wrapped his arm around Nell’s waist.
Gran looked worried. “Maybe we can all stay.”
“The Walking Dead’s on tonight, thought we were gonna watch it together, sugar plum?”
Gran perked up. She was a diehard fan of the television show. As a result, Nell and Arthur were survivalists prepping for the Zombie Apocalypse.
“It’s okay Gran,” Emerson assured her. I’m strong. I can resist him!
Arthur and Nell held hands and waved. When they left, the air felt electric, charged, burning up the air between them.
“Arthur’s old fashioned, he believes in chivalry, I don’t. I have things to do, thank you for coming Mr. Mayor, you can go, see yourself out.”
Emerson turned her back on him, walked down the hall and marched up the stairs to her apartment.
Okay, you know what? All evening long she treated him as if he were invisible. Dylan didn’t like it, not one bit. He followed her. Emerson gasped when he stopped just short of her bedroom. He leaned on the doorframe, never taking his eyes off her.
“Get out!” she said with a tremor in her voice. “This is what you wanted, for us to be polite strangers, you’re the Mayor, I’m one of your lowly constituents.”
“I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to!” she said bristling, “You don’t think I’m good enough, fine, point taken, there’s the door.”
“Emerson Sophie Riley, you know damn well what you mean to me. I’m not leaving until things are settled between us.”
Her green eyes threw sparks at him. “There is no us Mr. Mayor.”
He frowned. “Will you stop calling me that!”
“Would you prefer your majesty? Well guess who’s not getting on her knees and bowing down to your throne? That would be me.”
Damn she’s magnificent! “I’m not leaving,” he said with a challenging glint in his eyes.
Emerson’s jaw set stubbornly. “Fine, suit yourself, I’m taking a shower, out of my way.”
Chapter 9
Emerson stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door. She furiously yanked her dress off. Who the hell does he think he is? Mister high and mighty Chambers! What did he expect her to do, strip for him? Turn to mush if he touched her? Hell no! Go back to mansion hill and stay there! She turned on the shower. In seconds, steam filled the room. Still fuming, she stepped under the hot spray. Arrogant bastard! Well she showed him!
The bathroom door opened. Emerson inhaled sharply. She didn’t lock it! Before that thought registered, Dylan opened the curtain and stepped right in the tub with his clothes on. What the?!
His blue eyes flashed. “Let’s get a few things straight, you are mine.”
“You can’t just-” she sputtered. Recovering her shock, Emerson covered her breasts with one arm and below the waist with the other. “How dare you, get out, get-”
“Come here.”
She was in his arms before she drew her next breath. Dylan cupped the back of her head and kissed her with hot, unrelenting passion. His mouth slanted over hers masterfully stroking her tongue with his until she trembled in his arms. His hands slid down her wet back, up her ribs and cupped both breasts. They fit perfectly in his hands. His head dipped. He sucked her nipple with hot, wet suction, rubbing his tongue across the rosy bud. Under a waterfall of hot spray, Emerson threw her head back as he devoured her breasts.
“Dylan!” she breathed. Her hands flattened on his broad, muscular chest and slid into his coffee brown hair as he feasted on her body. The pleasure sent shockwaves through her. Emerson undid his belt, pulled down his zipper and sprung his long length free. Dylan held her up against the slick wall and thrust deep inside her. She was wet, tight and ready for him. Emerson’s back arched as he plunged in and out with powerful strokes of his muscular body. Dylan licked her nipple and took it between his teeth. She writhed beneath him as he rode her in the hot steam. He thrust deeper and deeper pinning her to the wall until she screamed. The orgasm roared through her. Dylan could only hold on as she took him over the edge. He came so hard, he hissed her name, as aftershocks pounded through his body. It was the hottest sex of his life.
After a long, playful shower, they made love again, this time in her bed. Dylan knew this was way beyond physical pleasure. He watched her sleep, arrested by the sight of her beauty. Wispy tendrils of red gold hair brushed her rosy cheeks and creamy shoulders. She slept with the hint of a smile on her lips. Damn if he didn’t put it there, making sure she was thoroughly satisfied again and again. Dylan played with her fingers. He couldn’t stop touching her. Dear God, I love her! The truth hit him right between the eyes. Love for her came at him like a freight train and there was nothing he could do to fight it.
Fear caught him by the throat. The political arena was like a gladiator facing a pack of wild animals dead set on ripping flesh apart.
Dylan discreetly had a background check done on her. Her dad was in jail for multiple felonies for theft and fraud. Her aunts, uncles and cousins were drug dealers and gang members. Her mom was in and out of rehab. He inwardly groaned. There were enough skeletons in Emerson’s closet to make her a malicious target for reporters. He couldn’t expose her to the cut throat political arena. With her family tree, she’d get eaten alive. He had to protect her.
Dylan committed her face to memory. He wished to God things were different. Leaving her was the hardest thing he’d ever done. He got dressed quickly and snuck out like a teenager.
Chapter 10
He never called or responded to her texts. In less than twenty four hours, Emerson heard the rumors. Dylan’s ex-girlfriend, Lea Saint James was in town.
Emerson’s heart refused to believe it. Dylan wouldn’t do that to her, not after the sweet passion they shared. She knew he loved her even though he never said it. Her conviction swayed when she saw him walking hand in hand with Lea. They were back on. The twins, Susie Q and Penny May confirmed it in their blog. At first, Emerson thought the pain would kill her.
She couldn’t confide in her friend Sawyer. Her dad was terminally ill. Gran had to be kept in the dark. She would calmly load her Smith & Wesson 38 special and shoot Dylan’s dick off, Mayor or no Mayor.
Harper would understand and be a shoulder to cry on. They’d watch a Star Wars marathon, eat buckets of ice cream and curse men everywhere. Before Emerson could ask her friend, Donavan asked her out to dinner. It was the perfect diversion.
Skid row stretched for several blocks in a seedy, gang ridden area of downtown Austin. The homeless, mentally ill, drug addicts, criminals and runaway teens slept on slabs of concrete, under highway bridges, in make shift tents draped with rags or torn trash bags. Emerson gave out bags of food to the hungry and Harper administered first aide and medical treatment. Other members of their team were scattered throughout helping anyone who needed it.
Hours later they sat in the back seat of a black SUV. A volunteer drove, another sat up front. Emerson’s wide green eyes looked troubled. “Hey, are we okay?”
Harper didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “If Donavan a
sks you to dinner, say yes.”
“Harper, our friendship means more to me than any man, are we okay?”
“Yes.” And this time she meant it. Harper squeezed Emerson’s hand. “You are beautiful inside and out, why wouldn’t he want you?”
Emerson frowned. “I could say the same thing about you.”
Harper snorted. “You’re beauty, I’m the beast.”
“Stop it,” Emerson hissed, “You keep putting yourself down, you are amazing.”
The volunteers talked in the front seat and jammed to the radio. They sped along I-35, dodging crazy drivers and big rig trucks.
“My biological father used to call me Raven.” Harper rarely talked about him. Emerson held her gaze.
“Why did he call you that? Because of your black hair?”
“No,” Harper whispered, “He said in ancient times, ravens were ugly, bad omens, evil, they meant death and so did I.”
Emerson gripped her friend’s suddenly cold hand. “The devil is a liar and so is your sperm donor. I wanna punch him in the face.”
Harper smiled. “Me too.”
They spent the rest of the drive catching up on old times. After a while, they drifted into companionable silence. Emerson stared out the tinted window. She tried not to think about Dylan, God knows she tried. Her subconscious betrayed her every single night. He showed up in her dreams – deliciously ripped, kissing her endless, making hot sweet love to her. She’d wake up breathless, aroused and yearning for him every which way. Then she’d realize it was only a dream.
Chapter 11
Emerson went to dinner with Donavan, determined to banish Dylan from her thoughts. They dined at the only fancy restaurant in town. Peachtree Lane had a stately Victorian décor, live piano music and fine Southern cuisine. Lit candles with scattered rose petals adorned the tables. The waiters wore crisp black tuxedoes and white pristine gloves.
Donavan seated Emerson by the bay window draped with white Christmas lights. They ordered glasses of Chardonnay, a creamy lobster bisque and tender Kobe steak.
Emerson dressed with care in a knock out little black dress that hugged her every curve. Her strawberry blond curls tumbled over her bare shoulders. She crossed her legs demurely and wore a pair of crystal and black heels. Several men followed her with their eyes, openly gaping. Donavan drew equal feminine attention. He wore all black. It set off his blond hair, chiseled face and blue eyes to perfection.
Emerson told herself to relax, have a good time, even though this was going nowhere. She couldn’t shake the suspicion that Harper had feelings for him. If there was the slightest possibility, Emerson wasn’t going to break her girl code. No way could she betray her friend. She took a sip of wine and nearly choked. Dylan sat several tables away. His narrowed eyes blazing. She stared back defiantly. If he didn’t want her permanently then he could just go suck it! Her bravado lasted until she noticed the stunning icy blond sitting next to him. She looked like a Victoria Secret model. Her rippling platinum hair draped over her fake tanned shoulders and naked back. The red dress she wore left little to the imagination. Her boobs looked perky, her waist flat and toned. Her legs long, shapely and golden.
Emerson instantly felt ridiculous. Who was she kidding? She couldn’t compete with a woman who looked like she just stepped out of the pages of Vogue Magazine. Emerson felt the pain to the core of her being. Donavan took her hand in his.
“Hey, he’s being an idiot.”
Emerson bit her lip. “Am I that transparent?”
“Only when it comes to him,” Donavan said.
“Why did you ask me out?” Emerson asked miserably.
“Because you’re sweet, pretty and I knew it would piss Dylan off.”
Emerson took a long sip of wine. “You’re wrong, he doesn’t want me.”
Donavan grinned wickedly. “Let’s put that to the test shall we?”
He kissed the back of her hand. “Whoa! What are you doing?”
He scooted his chair closer, kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear. From a distance they looked intimate. Emerson nearly yelped when he place a hand on her knee. Dylan stood up. For a moment, Emerson felt a flare of hope.
Until Dylan clinked a glass and announced. “Doctor Lea Saint James has just agreed to marry me!” The gorgeous young woman held up her hand for all to see. A five carat diamond winked from her ring finger. All the diners clapped. Women exclaimed delight and envy, sounds of oh, ah, wow, filled the dining room as Lea displayed her blinding ring. The piano man played Here Comes the Bride. The Maître de rushed over with a bottle of complimentary champagne. People took out cell phones and snapped pictures of the happy couple.
Donavan took one look at Emerson’s pale, ashen face and squeezed her hand. “Oh God Em, I’m so sorry.”
She felt dizzy, hot, freezing cold.
“Breathe,” Donavan urged.
Emerson felt as if the heartbreak would kill her. She loved Dylan so much she ached just looking at him. Right now, she couldn’t bear to be in the same room with him. She gripped her hands together to keep from visibly trembling.
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Donavan said.
Before they could move, Andy, a local paramedic, pulled up a chair.
“Sorry to be a buzz kill but I need to talk to both of you.”
Emerson tore her eyes away from Dylan and his fiancé. Donavan raised an eyebrow.
“It’s about Harper, something ain’t right with her.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying for years,” Donavan grumbled.
“Maybe I was wrong about you,” Andy said, “But I thought beneath all that hostility – you care.”
Donavan went very still. He didn’t deny it. Andy nodded.
“She’s afraid of something or someone.”
Every muscle in Donavan’s body tensed.
Emerson paled. “What makes you think-”
“I was an Army Medic for three years, when I was deployed in Iraq, I saw a lot of things I’d rather forget. I know men who saw combat that were never the same. They had a haunted look, like they’ve seen the worst in humanity. Sometimes Harper has that look, like post-traumatic stress.”
Donavan shook his head. “You’re imagining things, Harper comes from a great family and as far as I know, she hasn’t had a serious boyfriend.”
He looked swiftly at Emerson as if to confirm this. “No, she hasn’t.”
“Believe me that girl can hold her own,” Donavan said briskly, “We didn’t call her Amazon back in high school for nothing.”
Andy leaned forward. His boyish face lined with worry. He glanced about, making sure they weren’t overheard.
“What I’m about to say doesn’t leave this table,” he whispered, “Agreed?”
Donavan and Emerson nodded. Andy swallowed hard as if he were trying mightily to keep his composure.
“The other day we were restocking the rig, we were low on IV tubing. Harper kneeled down and I saw,” he closed his eyes for a moment, “She had bruises at the base of her spine.”
Donavan didn’t move an inch. Emerson blanched. “M-Maybe she fell.”
Harper didn’t have a clumsy bone in her body. “No,” Andy said, “I’ve seen enough injuries to know what a kidney punch looks like.”
Blood drained from Donavan’s face. Emerson blinked back tears.
“I think she’s in trouble,” Andy said, “She won’t talk to me, I hope you two might have better luck.”
Emerson pat his hand, like Donavan, she was incapable of speech. Long after Andy left an awful silence settle between them.
Donavan leveled a piercing blue gaze on her that could’ve pulverized rock. “Tell me what you know.”
Emerson squirmed under his relentless scrutiny.
“Emerson,” his voice lashed out, “What.do.you.know?”
She gulped. “I-I don’t want to betray my friend’s confidence.”
Donavan’s big m
uscled body had the stillness of a snake about to strike. Gone was the charming date. He was every bit the law enforcement officer now. “Make no mistake,” he growled, “I’m going to find the son of a bitch who hurt her, break every bone in his body and ram them down his throat.”
Emerson stared at him for a long moment then she made her decision. “You’ve heard of Doctors without Borders?”
“Yeah, the physicians who go overseas to third world countries to treat the poor?” he said.
“There’s an underground organization like that here in the US but the medical personal treat people who fall through the cracks of the system – the poor, homeless, uninsured, the undocumented immigrants.”
Donavan leaned back in his chair as comprehension dawned. “So Harper is a part of this network?”
“Yes, she goes into slums and rundown neighborhoods in Austin, Dallas, Houston and San Antonio.”
“You go with her group to feed the homeless there, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
Donavan grunted in admiration. “I could ring your necks, do you know how dangerous-”
“We all have concealed carry permits, I have a Smith and Wesson Revolver, Harper has a Glock and we wear bullet proof vests.”
That they’d have a need for that level of protection made Donavan pale.
“We work in pairs, no one wanders off alone.”
“Do you think she sustained these injuries by someone she tried to help?” he asked.
“No,” Emerson said, “I would’ve heard, besides, Harper would bury anyone who dared.”
Donavan’s jaw clenched. “Then the assailant was someone she knows, it’s personal.”
Something flickered in Emerson’s eyes. She quickly looked away. Donavan pounced.
“What?”
She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”
“Spit it out.”
Blaze: A Texas Heat Novel Page 6