by Laina Kenney
Emma knew in hindsight she should never have opened the door to Xander, but she had thought he was alone. When he had said he wanted to apologize, forgiving had seemed like the charitable thing to do, until the other three men with Xander had pushed their way into her apartment and shoved the needle into her arm. The dizziness was immediate, and the world blurred away into terror after that.
She shivered, remembering.
“I still feel stupid. I knew him for years,” she said.
“Of course. It is common also for the victims of an attack to blame themselves.” He moved closer, and she could feel the warmth from his skin. Her shiver then had nothing to do with fear. “You are not to blame for another person’s choice to perform a criminal act. There is fault enough, but no fault to you.”
Emma rubbed her hands up and down her arms to try to get rid of the goose bumps.
“I hear you. But it doesn’t feel that way.”
“No. Emotions are largely unexplainable in any case.”
Emma laughed involuntarily. That was a male statement if she had ever heard one.
“Chess?” he asked, and the deep tone of his voice and the brilliant gleam of his eyes sent a shiver through her.
Emma knew he was remembering the other night because she was remembering it, too. Whether he was offering for lust or for comfort, her body warmed under his steady blue gaze. She was restless, her body empty and wanting what only he could give.
She would play chess and watch his every move in anticipation of another type of game with him. She had never wanted a man more.
“To start with,” she said, and his smile became a wicked grin that lit up her nerve endings like Christmas.
“Good.”
Chapter 11
In the morning, Iselle called and invited Emma out for coffee. Down the block at their favorite little coffee shop, a narrow, crowded café with the best scones in the city, they talked over mochas.
They started off with the lovely warm weather and moved on through the city budget and straight into the topic of Emma’s night terrors.
“It might help if you talk about it,” Iselle suggested carefully.
“Yeah, maybe. Maybe not.” Emma shrugged. She didn’t know if anything would help but time.
“When you were at the hospital, didn’t they offer to let you speak to a counselor?” Iselle asked.
“Yes.” Sometimes it hurt to smile. “They sent one to my room, but the guy was so young and wide-eyed, that I didn’t feel like talking to him about it. I didn’t want to give him a nightmare,” Emma said. “I think he was about thirteen.”
Iselle clapped a hand over her mouth, but a giggle escaped, then both women were laughing.
“He couldn’t have been thirteen,” Iselle said, aghast. She laughed again.
“Thirteen, or fourteen tops, I swear. His face is as smooth as a kid’s. I don’t think he has ever shaved in his life.” Emma crossed her heart solemnly and fell back against the cushy sofa in a fit of giggles. Her mocha sloshed in the cup, and she tried to keep it upright while her hands shook with mirth. Iselle clapped a hand over her mouth, but Emma could see her shoulders shaking.
Several heads turned in their direction, but they ignored the attention.
“Maybe he’s very intelligent.” Iselle tried to defend the unknown young man.
“No doubt he is. But he’s a baby counselor, and I can’t say to him—” Her voice quit, and tears welled up. “I can’t get the words out yet to say how I feel about it,” she choked out. “It was hard, but I could talk to Officer Commander. He’s so big, he’s like a wall, but he cares. And there’s something about him that says he’s seen it and heard it all before. Like nothing I could say would shock him, and it made it okay, somehow, to say what I had to say.”
Iselle moved closer and hugged Emma and rubbed big circles on her back.
“I’m okay. Or, maybe I’m not okay every minute, but I will be okay. I can tell that now.”
“Don’t rush it,” Iselle counseled, sitting back. “Take your time, and whenever you’re ready you can talk to me. We’ll sit in your kitchen, and you’ll bake stuff ‘cause that’s what you do, and I’ll eat it ‘cause that’s what I do.” She patted one rounded hip. “And we’ll drink too much tea and cry and laugh and Balke will think we’ve lost our minds.”
Emma laughed through her tears.
That’s exactly what they did, and had done for years whenever something didn’t turn out well for one or the other. No stress, no pressure, just share when you need to, and the other friend would listen. It was a closer bond than any she shared with family.
“Sounds good,” she said, and strangely, it did sound good.
“But, for right now,” Iselle continued, “let’s go shopping. I have in mind a little retail therapy, always good for what ails you.”
Emma smiled. That sounded pretty good, too.
Chapter 12
Kuhr walked in the front door and laid the newspaper on top of the pile of newspapers already there on the little table. He stopped and looked at her for so long that Emma fidgeted self-consciously.
“What?”
“I think you need to get out and do something different.”
“Different? Why?”
He gestured around her apartment.
“It is a beautiful home, but you don’t want to leave it. Even to buy groceries, even with a bodyguard by your side, you hesitated when you stepped outside. And you haven’t left the house voluntarily for days. You work on the computer and use your job as the perfect excuse.”
“I’m writing a cookbook. It takes time. And I went for coffee with Iselle this morning.”
“I said voluntarily. Iselle had to first beg and then threaten. I heard the conversation.”
Emma couldn’t deny it. She couldn’t explain it, either. She was uncomfortable in her own skin the last few weeks.
Her surroundings were the same, only she was different.
“I have received an invitation to a May Day picnic on Forest Hill. Please accompany me.”
He said it with grace, but Emma could hear in his voice that he wasn’t going to stop until she said yes. She considered, watching him.
He waited in absolute stillness, his focus completely on her, until tiny goose bumps raised up on her skin, and she glanced away because she couldn’t hold his eyes.
“All right,” she said, and caught the flash of his hunter’s smile.
“Perhaps you would consider baking some cookies to take with us?” he asked, and she was unreasonably flattered.
“Of course!” she exclaimed. “And we can’t take just cookies. What else should we take to the picnic?”
He looked blank and she giggled.
“Wait, don’t tell me. You just show up and eat the food that appears there as if by magic.”
He had the grace to look sheepish.
“I apologize. I have provided security, and others who are good cooks have provided food. Since I am good at protecting people and not at all talented in the kitchen, it seemed fair.”
Emma smiled. “It’s more than fair,” she acknowledged. “When is this picnic, anyway?”
“Saturday noon.”
“Tomorrow?!” she shrieked. She flew to a drawer and pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. She opened and closed cupboard doors, muttering under her breath as Kuhr stood and watched. She looked in the fridge, then scribbled furiously and after a moment, tore the top sheet off of the pad and handed it to him. “I’m sorry, but you have just been deputized. You’re going grocery shopping alone while I start baking.”
“No. I am your bodyguard, not your kitchen assistant. Your safety is my job, not provisioning the entire picnic.” He waved the long list.
Emma jerked her thumb toward the ceiling, but she was pulling from cupboards and assembling bowls and measuring cups and spoons.
“Balke is upstairs with Iselle. Don’t you work with him? Maybe he could come down for an hour.”
Kuhr seem
ed to consider. “That seems a viable solution. I will ask.”
* * * *
Two agonizing hours later, Kuhr juggled several grocery bags and growled, trying to get his key out of his pocket. He thought momentarily of setting the bags down, but it was raining, and the step was wet. Water dripped down onto the side of his face as he settled the key in the lock and with a vicious twist, was able to open the door.
He had to turn sideways to get in the door with all the bags, but he made it, and with a powerful heave, set all the bags on the dining table. In his mind, it was a miracle that the table did not collapse under the weight.
“Wow,” Emma said when she came around the corner wiping her hands on a towel. “I was going to ask if you found everything, but I can see that you did.”
She started to unload everything from the bags and rushed around the kitchen putting things away.
Kuhr could see that there was an order to what she was doing, but he hadn’t been able to make sense of some of the ingredients on the list while he was in the store. He had just shrugged and followed the list.
There must be some method to it, but if peppermint extract, ground beef, baker’s chocolate, and zucchini, as well as a multitude of other items could all be used together, he wasn’t the man who would be able to figure out how.
He was okay to make simple meals, steak and baked potatoes mainly, and he could order pizza with the best of them, but he was not a good cook. It was more than obvious that his Emma was a good cook. Very good.
He was interested in spite of himself.
“I bought the supplies you requested, but I still have no idea what we are taking to this picnic,” he confessed.
Emma smiled.
“Well, I thought a big pan of lasagna and some fresh rolls, plus a couple of pans of mint frosted brownies and a big batch of cookies.”
“You do not have to feed all comers by yourself,” Kuhr said, surveying the kitchen.
Emma laughed. “Why not? You can supply the food, for once, as well as the security.”
He pulled her up against his body and kissed the tip of her nose. “Smart alec,” he said, and his voice was warm with something he couldn’t name.
Chapter 13
Getting ready for the picnic was a revelation for Emma.
She knew that she couldn’t really wear anything fancy to a picnic, for heaven’s sake, but oh, she wanted to. She wanted Mr. Tall, Dark, and Incredible’s eyes to pop right out of his head when he saw her.
She looked in her closet, but nothing appealed.
She hesitated, then marched over to the shopping bag and pulled out the new red skinny jeans that Iselle had talked her into buying. She stood for a moment without moving, then ripped off the tags with a flourish. Giggling, she grabbed a scoop-necked white T-shirt and her studded black leather belt.
With a gray cardigan, it was simple, but snazzy. And she liked what those jeans did to play up what curves she did have.
Within minutes, she was ready and heading out to the kitchen.
Kuhr turned, and when he saw her in the new jeans, his eyes fired with lust.
Oh, yes. That was the perfect reaction, exactly what she wanted from him.
Her breath caught in her throat, and she couldn’t speak as his eyes traveled down and back up, lingering in all the important places lovingly highlighted by the new skinny jeans. She could feel the heat rising under her skin and knew that the jeans were perfect.
“I have not seen this red garment before,” he said, and his voice was deep and a little husky. “Are we staying in?”
Emma laughed a little, but it sounded breathless to her ears.
“No, we’re definitely going to the picnic.”
His eyebrows raised, and a half smile curved his gorgeous mouth.
“I’m not certain I want to take you to a picnic where my unmarried brothers and friends will be.”
“Just because I’m wearing new jeans?”
Watching the little frown forming on his face, Emma loved the new jeans more and more. Red was definitely her color.
He looked down her body and back up again, like a stroke of pleasure.
“Just because you are beautiful,” he said, and she loved hearing it in the dark velvet voice. “Every male who sees you in those jeans will follow behind you with a stupid look. I will be constantly on guard against eager marauders. Perhaps you could wear something less appealing?”
Emma snorted. “Perhaps you could get over it. I’m wearing clothes I like, and these are stretchy and comfortable. If you don’t like them, that’s too bad.”
“I like them,” he growled, and her pulse jumped.
“There’s no problem, then, is there? Let’s go.”
After another sizzling look, Kuhr grabbed the first box of food and headed for the door. Emma picked up the second one, and followed him out to the car, bubbling over with happiness.
The ride was short, but with Kuhr’s hand on her thigh rubbing and squeezing the soft red denim, Emma’s racing pulse didn’t have a moment to settle.
Almost as soon as they arrived at the May Day picnic, Emma’s two pans of mint-frosted brownies were whisked away by Iselle and another woman who giggled, but didn’t introduce herself. Balke took the lasagna from Kuhr and left him to carry the large flat of freshly baked parmesan rolls down a well-worn path through high meadow grasses to the far edge of the open area. Emma could see that people were already gathering around the tables that had been set up under the shade of the towering maples.
Emma just smiled. She knew Iselle would be back soon, though, because Emma never went to an event without a batch of triple chocolate chip cookies, and they were Iselle’s favorite.
She grabbed the first huge cookie jar out of the car and turned back to see Kuhr and a young woman standing close together and talking.
The young female was beautiful, tall, and elegant in a way that Emma envied instantly, and it was plain to see that she had a major crush on Kuhr. She was wearing a lovely sundress that looked hideously expensive, or maybe it was because the girl looked like a runway model, but Emma suddenly wasn’t as thrilled by her new red jeans.
Her name was exotic, Liliya, and when Kuhr called her by name, Emma winced at the warmth and kindness in his voice.
She even moved beautifully, flirting and tossing the glossy waves of her long, dark hair, and beside her Emma felt plain and ordinary, an envious tomboy in jeans and a T-shirt.
The May Day celebration suddenly seemed like an all-day ordeal instead of a joyful event.
Emma looked at Kuhr, with the gorgeous Liliya putting the moves on him, and bit her lip until it stung.
Balke stopped by her side.
Emma looked at him, then looked away quickly.
“Kuhr is not interested in Liliya in the way that you are thinking,” he said quietly.
Emma looked back in time to see Kuhr throw his head back and laugh. Liliya was giggling, one slender hand over her mouth, eyes sparkling up at Kujr as she leaned against his broad chest.
“Yeah, sure,” she said, watching him put his arm around the slim waist of the elegant Liliya to support her weight as she continued to giggle. “I can see how disinterested he is from here.”
Emma was startled to hear the bitterness in her voice. She turned away from the scene that was turning her stomach and faced Balke squarely.
“It is not what it looks like,” Balke insisted. “Kuhr is not a man who would lead a woman on and not deliver.”
Emma tried to smile, but it felt wooden. He could deliver, she had no doubt of that. He had proven it time and again.
“Okay,” she said. She didn’t want to hear it.
It wouldn’t be the first time that a man had taken one taste of Emma Wetherall and walked out the door. Her last boyfriend hadn’t been able to get away fast enough. Why should Kuhr be any different?
Her inner sixth sense tried to protest, but she hardened her heart and hushed it.
If he wanted the tall, elega
nt Liliya instead of a small dark-eyed blonde, there would be nothing she could do about it in any case. She certainly wasn’t the type of woman to start a fight with another woman over a man. Liliya could have him, she thought, and ignored the tiny pang in her heart.
She gathered her hair into a high ponytail and turned to check the car once more for any remaining food offerings, but Iselle was right there. Emma stopped to chat with her friend, putting on a brave face and even laughing at appropriate moments.
Another young woman came up beside them, and Iselle looked uncomfortable for a second before introducing her simply as Rylek’s wife, Ellie.
“And this is my little prince, Alexei,” Ellie said, snuggling the small boy in her arms.
Emma judged the boy at about eight months, like her friend Kate’s little boy, and was surprised to hear that he was only three months. He seemed alert and energetic when he focused on her face.
With a big gummy smile, he launched himself out of his mother’s arms and toward Emma. She caught him with a laugh even as his mother gasped.
“I’m so sorry,” Ellie said, hand on her heart. “He’s just started doing that. Whenever he sees something he wants, he just jumps for it. His development and his reflexes are off the charts, of course, because of his”—she seemed to catch herself and shared an incomprehensible look with Iselle—“father. Well, he’s amazing.”
Emma cuddled the little boy, and he burrowed into her arms and sniffed, his eyes bright and almost glowing. He patted her cheek and chin before settling his chubby cheek against hers and grinning back at his mama.
“Oh, he likes you,” Ellie said with an indulgent smile.
“I probably smell like cookies,” Emma said truthfully, and all the ladies laughed.
“Yum, chocolate chip,” Iselle said and pretended to sniff Emma and roll her eyes in ecstasy. Emma swatted at her, but couldn’t help laughing.