Emma had no choice but to follow him to the door, wondering if she’d ever see him again. “Thank you for the ride home, Mike,” she said softly, standing back when he opened the door to leave. “And the doctoring.” In spite of the fall air rushing in, she felt uncomfortably warm when his gaze fell to her thigh.
“We never did get around to putting a Band-Aid on that,” he replied.
“I’ll take care of it.” There was no way she was going to allow him back to the scene of the crime.
“I guess this is goodnight, then.” His deep voice enveloped her, taking the chill away. The smile in her eyes was met with quiet contemplation. “See you around.” He hesitated and Emma held her breath, but he couldn’t very well kiss her goodnight and they both knew it. After awhile he simply gave a brief nod and turned away.
She waited until he reached his truck before closing and locking the door. With a wistful sigh she flipped off the lights and went to bed, only to dream about an irresistible Zorro with sensual eyes and a mouth to die for.
Chapter 9
The first thing Emma noticed in the mirror the next morning while washing her face was the mark on her neck. Her mouth dropped open and she leaned in closer to examine the purplish bruise, then stood back blushing like a silly schoolgirl as a pleasant warmth enveloped her. Never in her life had she ever had a hickey!
Her thoughts drifted back to the night before, recalling the intimate moment between her and Mike, wondering how far things would have gone if Amanda hadn’t called when she had. Would she have found the strength to pull away? She’d never thought of herself as a weak woman but Mike’s mouth on her neck had certainly turned her bones to mush and curled her toes.
She ran her finger over the blemish, tingling inside. For a moment she was fascinated with it, until covering it up became a bigger dilemma. There was no way she was going to walk around town, proudly displaying it like a badge of achievement, or something, as Amanda had done once in high school. Small town tongues had a way of turning the smallest incidences into overblown events.
Running a brush through her hair, she tried to arrange it so that it covered the mark. “Oh Lord…” She groaned at her reflection when her hair proved to be ineffective. Maybe makeup would work She opened the medicine cabinet and reached for the base she used, quickly finding out it wasn’t dark enough. In the end she opted for a Band- Aid. It didn’t cover the whole thing but it would have to do as a temporary fix. She was slipping on a pair of pearl earrings when she heard an all too familiar voice.
“Mom! I’m here.”
Emma gave herself one last glance in the mirror before leaving the bathroom. It didn’t surprise her to see Amanda closing the front door, since they had a Saturday morning ritual of getting together for breakfast. “Good morning, troublemaker.”
“Troublemaker? I don’t know what you mean.”
However, her smile said she did. “Is that coffee I smell?” She slipped the keys into her pocket, continuing toward the kitchen with the innocent lightheartedness of a five-year old.
Emma chuckled, right behind her. “Why would this Saturday morning be any different?” She’d already taken the cups out and was reaching for the coffeepot to fill them.
“How long did you stay at the party last night? You look tired,” Amanda observed as she looked at the dark shadows beneath Emma’s eyes, knowing she hadn’t been able to cover the shadows with makeup.
She hoped that was all Amanda noticed. She was tired because she’d tossed and turned most of the night, thinking about Mike and his darn mouth on her. She woke early in spite of going to bed late, exasperated and if she were completely honest, a wee bit sexually frustrated. Well, maybe more than a wee bit since it had been over two years since she’d had anything more than a handshake from a man.
She began pulling out the ingredients for breakfast, watching Amanda as she walked to the sliding glass door and opened it. Immediately the cool morning air rushed in, filling the room with the crisp freshness of fall. “I didn’t sleep well last night.” It was always better to stick as close to the truth as possible. “Do you see Rosy out there yet?”
Amanda turned her gaze in the direction of the crab apple trees that grew down by the lake, shaking her head when she didn’t see the deer. “All I see is some boaters out on the lake.”
“Fishing no doubt,” Emma said unconsciously, taking a moment to sip at her coffee.
“I go with Troy once in awhile; it’s very relaxing. Sometimes he fishes and I just sit back and take in some sun or do a little reading.” She walked back to Emma, and was just about to reach for her coffee when she finally noticed the Band-Aid. Her eyes rounded with mild concern. “What happened to your neck?”
Emma lowered her gaze, pretending to be absorbed in what she was doing, feeling her cheeks grow hot with guilt. She shrugged her shoulders in an attempt at casualness. “A bug must have bitten me while I slept.” The small lie almost stuck in her throat.
“A bug?”
Emma made the mistake of glancing up, seeing the speculation on Amanda’s face as she examined the area more thoroughly, probably noticing the discoloration she hadn’t been able to cover. She couldn’t recall a time when she felt so frustrated, or embarrassed.
“Let me see it; the color looks bad. Maybe it was poisonous.” She started around the island where Emma was grating cheese.
Emma quickly brushed her off, clearing her throat nervously “That’s not necessary. Believe me, he wasn’t poisonous.”
Amanda pounced on her mistake right away. “He?”
“I mean it, the bug.”
Sitting back on the stool she’d just vacated, Amanda made an obvious attempt at trying to hide a knowing smile behind her cup and doing a poor job of it. Emma shot her a scowl but remained quiet, knowing she’d only hang herself if she pursued it.
“So, anything, ah, exciting happen last night?” Amanda asked after a few minutes of silence.
“Yes, as a matter of fact. On the way home last night a buck standing in the middle of Bear Lake Road forced us to stop and then someone took a shot at us. Or rather, at the buck.” She had the satisfaction of seeing the knowing smile disappear off Amanda’s face. That clearly wasn’t the exciting news she was hoping to hear. “But as you can see, I’m okay, so is Mike.”
“I was half-asleep when I heard that come across Troy’s scanner, and then he took right off. He was gone this morning when I got up so I haven’t talked to him. That was you and Mike?” Emma nodded. “God, I’m glad you’re both okay. That road is so dark at night.”
“Yes, we were lucky. They shot out the window in Mike’s truck.”
“You’re kidding!” Amanda’s gaze moved over Emma as if looking for something. “I wonder if the incident was on the morning news.”
Emma shrugged, smiling to herself. At least she managed to get Amanda’s mind off her bug bite. Anything else she could handle. Only Emma’s small triumph was short lived.
“So, ah, what happened after Mike brought you home last night?”
“Nothing.” Emma lied without hesitation, slipping the breakfast casserole in the oven. “Nothing at all. And if you want me to go to the gym with you later today, you’ll drop it.”
Amanda knew when to shut up, but she couldn’t help the huge grin of satisfaction spreading across her pretty face. So far it appeared her matchmaking scheme was working, in spite of Troy’s warning that Mike wasn’t shopping for female companionship. That might explain Mike’s weird idea of letting Emma believe he was married. Still, that alone was a clear indication he was attracted to her and was using that to keep a wedge between them. Amanda was positive Mike and Emma were perfect for each other. They just needed a little push in the right direction. She’d made sure Mike saw her leaving with Troy the night before, knowing he’d offer to take Emma home.
Sipping quietly at her coffee, she squinted at the Band-Aid on Emma’s neck. She wasn’t stupid. She knew her sister was trying to hide a hickey. Emma wasn’t imm
une to Mike either if she let him get that close so soon after their second arranged meeting. All Amanda had to do now was come up with more ideas on how to get them together. Maybe Melissa could help in some way…
* * * *
Mike cast his line out for the umpteenth time that day, wondering why he wasn’t having any luck. He usually went home with a couple of big ones that he and Melissa would have for dinner that night. There was nothing better than fresh bass fried in beer batter. However, something was definitely off. He had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach at what that something was. Or rather, somebody. It came in the form of one shapely, troublesome female.
He glanced toward the shoreline and beyond, where Emma’s townhouse was located. Was that her on her patio? He squinted even more but the sun bouncing off the water nearly blinded him. Grumbling with annoyance, he reached for his baseball cap, slamming it down on his head. Why couldn’t he get her out of his mind? Dumb question, Mike, he said to himself. Admit it old man, Emma is beautiful, charming, has a sense of humor and she’d gotten to him quicker that any other woman he knew. Being sexy didn’t hurt either.
For the first time in a long time he began to worry that maybe he didn’t have what it took to stick with his game plan. The five years he’d given himself suddenly seemed like a hundred. His mind kept drifting back to the night before, in Emma’s bathroom. If Amanda hadn’t phoned when she had Mike knew without a doubt he would have made love to Emma in every sense of the word. Moreover, his gut told him she wouldn’t have protested. Emma didn’t seem like the kind of woman who slipped into a man’s bed casually, but there’d definitely been something happening between them stronger than either of them. A certain chemistry that had chipped away at their self control.
He recalled how badly he’d wanted to kiss her. But at the time, afraid of the intensity of his feelings, he’d opted for the graceful line of her throat instead. Hoping the detour would slow him down. Praying for control. Now he was sorry he hadn’t kissed her because he could still feel her against him, still recall her light fragrance. Instead of making Emma his, he’d left his mark on her for the whole damn town to see. He wondered what she thought about that this morning.
Taking a deep breath, he narrowed his gaze on the woman walking toward the pier, instinct telling him it was
Emma. From this distance Mike couldn’t tell what she was doing, only that she was alone. He closed his eyes, willingly following the road to insanity as he pictured her in the harem outfit. In his mind he could see himself slowly peeling it off her delectable body and kissing every inch of her while doing it. He had to stop this madness. He opened his eyes again to the brightness of the morning. He was a fool for daydreaming about a woman he didn’t intend getting involved with.
Feeling a nibble on his line, Mike gave it a sharp tug and started to reel, coming up empty handed again as the fish got away with the bait. Hell, at this rate he might as well dump the whole bucket of night crawlers into the lake. He set his rod to the side, opening the cooler for a beer. Two left, he’d have to head back soon. He popped the top and brought it to his lips, taking a long swallow.
Movement from the bank drew his attention there again and he realized someone had joined Emma. He strained to see, determining by the build it was a man. Emma had moved off the pier and from Mike’s viewpoint it looked like they were arguing. When he saw the man put his hands on her, Mike tossed his half-empty beer aside and started the outboard motor. As he turned the boat for shore and moved closer, fear for Emma churned in his gut when he saw the man slap her across the face.
* * * *
“Hit me harder, Elliot,” Emma ordered, automatically bracing herself for the blow. He was supposed to be her abusive husband and she knew if he didn’t get over his fear of hurting her, all the rehearsing in the world wouldn’t make the scene seem real. And the theater was counting on the success of this production, as all the others, to keep its doors open.
The look on Elliot’s face warned Emma he was struggling with himself. They’d only been friends for two years, ever since answering an ad for actors in the town newspaper, and joining the small production company. During lunch one day after a rehearsal he’d confessed that his father had been physically abusive towards his mother, so she knew him well enough to know he abhorred violence of any kind, especially when it was directed towards women.
“We’ve devoted two years to building up interest in the old theater downtown; do you want all our hard work to be for nothing?” She enjoyed the small bit parts she was given and would hate to see the theatre doors closed again.
“I’m afraid to hurt you,” he said, holding back with real worry in his brown eyes. “It goes against my nature to strike a woman.”
“You’re not going to punch me; just give me a harder slap so that it looks real.” She stiffened her posture. “Now hit me again. I can take it.”
Pressing his lips, Elliot hit her, this time so hard that Emma’s head snapped back and real tears sprang to her eyes. He rushed to her side immediately. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to…”
“Don’t touch me you, you… jerk!” Emma screeched, staying in character when it was obvious Elliot hadn’t. She hoped he took the hint. If he thought for a minute he’d really hurt her, they’d never make it through the scene, much less the brief parts they had. That is if they got to do it since they were both understudies for the real actors. She squared her shoulders, encouraged by the look of gradual dawning in his eyes. “My mother always said you were no good. I should have listened to her. If you ever hit me again…”
“You’ll do what? Run home to daddy?” He raised his hand high, fully intending to strike her down as the part called for him to do. Emma screamed and turned to run but he reached out, snagging her shirt and yanking her back into his arms. Both their eyes grew round at the sound of tearing seams but Elliot kept on with the scene. “You bitch! Just where do you think you’re going?”
“Let me go!” Emma screamed, trying not to laugh. Hearing him swear struck her funny bone because Elliot never swore.
He backhanded her, careful not to overdo it this time. “Daddy won’t be able to save…” Emma watched his eyes fill with stark terror before he released her and turned to run in the opposite direction.
“Elliot?” This was definitely not in the script. He was running as if his life depended on it. She watched him almost stumble to the ground, then disappear around the corner of the house. She turned around to see what had frightened him. “Mike?” she gasped softly. What was he doing there?
Her gaze took in the boat behind him. She and Elliot had been so engrossed in their parts, they hadn’t heard him approach the pier. He was racing in their direction like a locomotive out of control. His face was twisted with rage and the closer he got the more it began to dawn on Emma what was going through his mind. He looked primed to kill, and she sensed real fear that if he caught up to Elliot that’s exactly what he would do. She purposely stepped into his path, hoping to stop him.
“Mike, stop!” she cried, holding her arms out as though to halt his progress. He started to side step her but Emma followed his movements, practically throwing her body at him. She realized immediately it wasn’t her brightest move but all she could think of was stopping him. At the last second he pulled up but it was too late. A whoosh rushed from her and a grunt escaped him as their bodies collided and he bore her backwards to the ground.
For a moment Emma saw stars. The force of his body slamming into her knocked the wind out of her and she could only lie there, gasping painfully in an effort to fill her lungs. An impossible feat considering he was on top of her. As panic set in she began to squirm, hoping to get her message across. Something worked because he suddenly rolled away and she was able to suck in a mouthful of air.
He was panting wildly too. “What…the hell…were…you thinking…of?” Sprawled on his back, his chest heaved up and down rapidly. “I…could have…killed you.”
“I’m…sorry…�
�
“Sorry? Hell… Emma, never get in the…line of fire…no matter what’s coming at you. I was running after… your friend,” he said sarcastically. “The one who… was knocking you around.”
“That’s why I wanted to stop you.” She breathed a little easier now. “Elliot’s a friend.”
“It didn’t look like that from where I was standing.”
Smiling against her will, Emma explained softly, “We were rehearsing a part for a play. Elliot plays my abusive, skirt chasing husband.”
Mike gradually rolled to his side so he could peer down at her. “You’re kidding.” His tone clearly said he didn’t believe what he was hearing.
Emma’s gaze went back and forth between his eyes to his mouth as she slowly shook her head, confirming it. She couldn’t help it; he had such a sensuous mouth. “Thank you for coming to my rescue, although I’ll probably never see Elliot again. He probably won’t stop running until he crosses the state line.”
“Oh God.” Mike fell back with a snort of disgust. “That will teach me to jump to conclusions. When I saw him strike you…” He quickly cut himself off as though afraid of what he’d been about to divulge. “I hit you like a quarterback making a tackle. Are you okay?”
Emma closed her eyes, chuckling softly. “I think every bone in my body is broken but otherwise I’m great.” So far she hadn’t moved from her position.
“Do I need to feel for broken bones?”
Her eyes bolted open at his remark, her breath catching at his closeness. She hadn’t heard him move, but he was leaning over her again, only closer this time. His eyes were making a lazy sweep down her front, and she self-consciously reached up to make sure none of the buttons on her shirt had come undone. His sexy grin made a slow burn sweep through her body. When his gaze lingered on her throat Emma knew without a doubt his eyes were focused on the Band-Aid.
Kiss Me Page 8