by Mora Early
“I guess so. We’ve already given him a name, after all. It would be cruel to give him up now.” He felt unaccountable heat prickle his cheeks. Josh actually kind of liked the annoying little fluff ball, despite the water works.
Emma blinked at him several times and swallowed. “You’re a good man, Josh Owens.” There was a catch in her voice. He wondered at it. But then she shook herself, patted the pup, and whatever strange emotion had gripped her seemed to pass. “Now, you wanted to see me about the luncheon? I can assure you everything is in place and will be ready for Tuesday.”
Josh crossed his legs, uncrossed them, fiddled with his sleeve. As if sensing his unease, Chewie padded over to him and leapt into his lap. He stroked the small bundle of warm fur.
“I don’t doubt you’ve got everything under control, Emma. You have me convinced there’s nothing you couldn’t do, if you set your mind to it.” He smiled. The corners of Emma’s mouth ticked up, but she still looked a bit pale. Clearly she still wasn’t completely comfortable around him. He was such an ass. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you, actually.”
“Oh?” Her tone grew cautious. She twisted a small silver ring on the pinkie finger of her left hand around and around.
“You know, I think, how important this deal with Ransler is to me. And you’ve been an amazing help so far. But I was wondering if I could ask you for just a little more.” He stroked Chewie’s silky fur, finding it easier to speak if he concentrated on that as opposed to trying to Emma.
She frowned slightly, her dark brows drawing down into a V. “I’ll help in any way I can, Josh. You know that.” He took a deep breath. He had to make this sound normal and reasonable. She couldn’t, under any circumstances, know that he meant to pass her off as his fiancé. After the other day, she’d probably run straight to Clarice to file a sexual harassment suit against him.
“Ransler is going to be there, at the EMF event. I need someone who knows me to help me sell this project to him once and for all. I think you’d be the perfect person.”
“I...” She trailed off, lashes fluttering. “I don’t know what to say.”
Josh shifted in his chair. That wasn’t a promising response. “I know it’s a lot to ask. You’ll be busy making sure the luncheon goes smoothly, I understand that. But, perhaps, you could take a few moments to talk to him. Convince him to work with me. That’s all.”
“Josh, I’m flattered that you think I have such strong a powers of persuasion. But I’d hate for you to rely on me. I don’t know anything about William Ransler.” She wrung her hands. Josh’s heart sank to the level of his navel. She was refusing. And as adept as he was at creating something out of nothing, conjuring funds and permits and locations out of thin air, he couldn’t think of any way he could persuade Emma to do this for him.
“It won’t just be you. Eugenie, Ben, and maybe even Maisie will be taking up my cause. I just... I need you, Emma. Please?” His lungs felt frozen as the words dropped from his lips. He hadn’t meant to say it quite like that. But it was true, wasn’t it? He did need her, specifically, for this.
Just for this? a sly voice in his mind asked. Josh shoved it away. He wasn’t thinking along those lines anymore. She’d made it perfectly clear she wasn’t interested in him that way. He studied her fine, gamine features, those bright green eyes. Emma chewed her plump lower lip. She opened her mouth, closed it. Opened it again.
“Whatever you need, Josh. Just... point me at Ransler, and by the time I’m done with him he’ll want to marry you.” Her smile wobbled a bit, but it was genuine. Josh let out a long rush of breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He felt as if she’d lifted a weight from his chest single-handedly.
“Thank you, Emma.” His lips quirked. “And I don’t much care if Ransler wants to marry me, as long as he also wants to work with me.” Besides, that sly voice piped up, he’s going to think you’re marrying Emma.
The cheek-splitting grin that spread across his face was purely due to the fact that she’d agreed to help. Nothing to do with the sly little voice’s words. Or so Josh told himself.
Chapter 8 ~ Meet the Ranslers
Once, when Todd was seven, he’d coated all of Emma’s school clothes in itching powder. She hadn’t even noticed at first, but as the warm day wore on and her skin grew damp with sweat, she’d been plagued with the horrible sensation of almost every inch of her flesh prickling and crawling. It was as if she was being bitten by thousands of ants all at once. That was how she felt as she arrived at the Hilton’s banquet room to make sure all the preparations were in place for the press luncheon.
As if running a smooth event wasn’t hard enough, she had to contend with the presence of the super sleuth. Why couldn’t Ben just accept that Carla Fiorentino was behind the theft and he’d never find her? Why couldn’t he let it go? But of course, she knew the answer to that. He couldn’t let it go because Josh couldn’t let it go. She didn’t know if she should be flattered or irked that he was trying so hard to find her. Well, to find Madame Butterfly, that is.
Hadn’t he just been trying to kiss her, as Emma, only a few days ago? And yet, the whole time he’d been making eyes at her, he had his bloodhound sniffing out the whereabouts of a woman he barely knew aside from one dance and a few seriously steamy kisses. There was more to his ferocious chase than a sense of possessiveness over a watch he’d only owned for a few weeks. He wanted Madame Butterfly. He wanted to finish what they’d started that night at the ball. The thought sent spirals of heat through Emma’s veins.
This was ridiculous. She was mad at Josh for looking for Madame Butterfly because he wanted to sleep with her, and mad at him for trying to kiss Emma while obviously wanting Madame Butterfly, even though Madame Butterfly was Emma. It kind of felt like he was double-crossing her twice. Quadruple-crossing. And now her head hurt and she itched all over. She scratched absently at her wrist.
Dag flitted up to her side. “Everything looks perfect. You’re a genius.”
That made her smile a little. “I couldn’t do it without you, Dag. Mr. Owens wants me front and center today, so you’re my man behind the scenes.”
“I’ve got it under control.” Dag pronounced the last two words as if they were supposed to be capitalized. He raised his hands, palm out, clearly wanting her to not worry. Dag was indispensable, but occasionally his overdramatic gestures were too much.
“I know you do, D. I’m going to leave it in your capable, manicured hands.” She slid away to hang up her jacket and stash her purse. She’d dressed for the occasion in a simple black cocktail dress with a high neck and a dramatically draped back. Her hair was loose for once, falling gently around her shoulders.
The guests would be arriving soon, press and other members of philanthropic circles. From the information she’d gathered on Maisie and William Ransler, she expected them to be a little early. A waiter glided passed with a tray of champagne flutes. Emma grabbed one, sipping at the sparkling wine. The minute the bubbles tickled her tongue, she remembered her words to Josh the night of the masquerade. ‘I can hardly lick champagne off your dazzling personality, now can I?’
She spluttered, her head and belly seeming to swap places for just a moment.
“You alright?”
It was a good thing she was already choking, because her surprise at coming face-to-face with Ben for the first time since her spy routine was easily masked as she coughed and waved at her face. She’d seen him in passing, of course. He’d been leaving Josh’s as she arrived the day she’d named Chewie. But they’d never actually spoken.
Now, up close, she realized she had seen him somewhere else too. He was the carmine Oxford wearing, Mr. Fox from the night of the masquerade ball. She remembered the sparkle in his eyes as he’d winked at her that night and felt her throat go dry.
He already suspected Carla wasn’t the woman he was looking for. He was clearly intuitive. Would he recognize her based on that one brief interaction? “I’m fine,” she wheezed through h
er coughs.
“We haven’t officially met. Though I’ve heard a lot about you.” He extended his hand. “I’m Ben. You’re the amazing Emma.”
The compliment slipped right by her, inconsequential in the grander scheme of her panic. “H-heard a lot about me?” She took another small sip of champagne, hoping to soothe away the catch in her throat. Then she realized that his hand was still sticking out. Flushing, she slid one hand into his and shook briefly.
“From Josh. According to him you’re pretty much the most efficient person he’s ever met. Like, getting all the trains running on time levels of talent.” Ben grinned, his brown eyes sparkling at her much as they had the night of masquerade. If she remembered, would he?
“I think you just called me a Nazi.” Her lips twitched of their own accord. She could like Ben. He seemed genuinely nice and funny. If only he wasn’t trying to track her down and throw her and her brother on Josh’s not so tender mercy.
Ben pursed his lips. “Did I? That wasn’t my intention. But I’ll take your word for it.”
She snatched another flute from a different waiter and handed it to Ben, trying to smile convincingly. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Ben. I have to confess, all Josh has told me about you is that you find him things.”
“Typical,” Ben snorted, accepting the flute and toasting her with it. “Keeping all the pretty ones to himself.”
The room was filling up with people. Flashes were popping and already the buzz of conversation was growing. Emma couldn’t help but scan the room to make sure the event was going well. She spotted Eugenie chatting with one of the women from the Foundation’s board. Eugenie lifted a hand in a wave. Emma gave a brief one back. She turned her attention back to Ben, shoving down her apprehension. She needed to talk to him.
“Well, I guess I can add ‘flirt’ to the list of things I know about you.” She raised one thin brow. “I suppose that’s how you get your information, hmmm? Charm it out of people?”
“It’s my preferred method, I must admit. So much more pleasant than brutish tactics.” His grin was wide and infectious. Emma felt her lips twitch in response. But then she remembered the muscled bulk of Magnus Gunn and the smile died. He was looking into her brother’s life, her life, as they spoke. She had to remember how much danger they were in.
If it came to it, she could get Todd away... somewhere. Before they pressed charges. She didn’t think they’d go as hard on her. She had no record, no sketchy past. God, she was bad at all this subterfuge. “Josh mentioned you were having some trouble with this latest job for him. He said I might be able to help.” She gave him what she hoped was a modest, self-deprecating look, from beneath her lashes.
“Josh said that?” Ben’s brows shot up to his hairline. Emma nearly winced. Why did he sound so surprised?
“He seems to think I have a knack for ferreting things out. Really, I’m just a bit obsessive and meticulous. But it helps in this line of work.” She motioned to the room around them with an open palm.
Ben chuckled. “I’ve no doubt. The ball was fantastic, by the way. Josh said you were responsible for that.”
Before she could respond, Dag glided to her side. He was smiling, but his cheeks were a bit pale. “Emma, I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I just had a teensy question.” He blinked rapidly at Ben in what Emma thought was possibly supposed to be a reassuring expression. It failed miserably.
“It’s okay, Dag. Ben is a friend of Mr. Owens’. What’s the problem?” She touched Dag’s elbow gently. He occasionally got a bit overwhelmed, but she found if you forced him to concentrate on one thing, he got right back on track.
The blond spoke in a rush. “The Hilton kitchen staff swears up and down that they never received delivery of the smoked salmon en croute. Barry says he personally dropped it off, but he can’t read the signature on the delivery slip. Meanwhile, no one knows were the salmon is now!” Dag’s fingers were white where he gripped his clipboard.
Ben’s champagne glass hung in the air halfway to his lips as he stared at Dag. Emma had to admit, it was an awful lots of words to force out in one breath. She squeezed Dag’s arm. “Breathe, Dag. We know Barry’s trustworthy, so think. If the salmon got delivered, by Barry, where might it be?”
“He... oh! Barry always delivers in the front. So...” Dag drew the word out, eyebrows creeping like caterpillars up and down his forehead as he thought it through. “Check the restaurant on the first floor?”
“Check the restaurant on the first floor,” Emma confirmed, patting his shoulder. “I’m betting they got our salmon by mistake. But if not, there’s Cumin crusted Chilean sea bass on green rice in the walk-in on the left. Make sure to use the ones in the blue boxes. The red boxes were cooked in Canola oil and Holly Harper from the Tribune is allergic. Those need to be returned.”
Dag exhaled, the color in his cheeks coming back. “Right. Right. Okay, great!” He slipped back into the crowd, his grin much more genuine now. Ben gave a low whistle.
“Josh was right.”
Emma cocked her head. “About what?”
“How do you know Holly Harper is allergic to Canola oil?” he countered.
“It’s actually just an ingredient in the oil. She wears a medical alert bracelet.” Emma shrugged. She’d done her due diligence on every member of the press who’d be here today. That was her job. She’d made sure none of them had crusades against Josh personally or Hollywood in general too. They didn’t want this turning into anything beyond an announcement by the Eugenie Markham Foundation about an upcoming project.
Ben drained his champagne and set the empty glass on a passing waitress’s tray. “Still pretty impressive.”
“Of course she is,” Josh said, appearing to clap Ben on the back. “Didn’t I tell you?”
“Yeah, but since when do I ever listen to you?”
Emma’s smile froze on her face. Would Ben mention her offer of help? Josh might find that a bit suspicious. He had said she should help Ben once the luncheon was over, but it had been a joke. Maybe she could convince him she’d thought he was serious? “Josh, what are you doing? You and Eugenie are supposed to be getting ready for the announcement.”
First the announcement, then a brief Q&A, and then finally food and cocktails. That was when Eugenie and Josh were supposed to mingle, once the press had a chance to digest the information about the dormitories.
“The Ranslers just arrived. I wanted to introduce you guys.” Josh nodded, encompassing both her and Ben in the gesture. She relaxed slightly. She had to stop assuming everything had something to do with her, Todd, and The Watch. Josh had other fish to fry too. She had to remember that.
Emma tried to force her fingers to relax, but they refused to uncurl from around the champagne flute’s thin crystal stem. She hoped it didn’t shatter in her hand. The smile she gave Josh seemed more brittle than the glass. “By all means, lead the way.”
Josh’s heart beat a frantic rhythm in his chest. He was glad no one could hear it. This was it. The moment of truth. He’d hoped that the Ranslers would arrive late and he could get the announcement for the press over with first, but he should have known better. He’d seen them walk in, Maisie looking lovely in a soft white dress and William debonair as ever in a suit, and experienced a moment of nearly paralyzing fear that they would run into Emma without him there to control the conversation, and the whole charade would come crashing down around his ears.
Now he had to get the introductions out of the way before climbing up on the small stage Emma and the rest of the Picture Perfect staff had set up. At least he wouldn’t need to worry about them talking during the announcement or the Q&A. Emma was too much of a professional and Maisie Ransler was too polite. After that, though, the real work would begin.
“William, Maisie, good to see you here.” Josh flashed his mega-watt smile, the one he usually reserved for interviews and red carpet events. Maisie’s lips twitched. William’s eyes narrowed.
“Owens.” His gaze fl
icked to Emma and widened a little. “And this is--”
“Emma,” Josh finished for him. He slipped an arm around her waist. He felt her stiffen the tiniest bit, but could see from the corner of his eye that her smile remained in place. “The woman responsible for all this.” He made a vague sweeping gesture that may or may not have encompassed himself.
“Hardly,” Emma replied, demurely. “Mr. Ransler, Mrs. Ransler. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Josh has told me a lot about you. And, of course, Mr. Ransler I’ve seen many of your films.” She extended a slim hand. William shook it briefly. Maisie held on a little longer.
“Well, you’re just as pretty as you sounded on the phone.”
Emma blushed. Josh liked how awkward she became when people complimented her. She knew she was good at her job, and smart, and he thought she knew how attractive she was too. But she still always seemed so surprised when people pointed it out.
Josh felt a chill run up his back as he realized William Ransler was studying both him and Emma. Perhaps trying to read their body language? He wished she’d relax against him a little more. He tugged her a little closer to his side. Emma flashed him an inquisitive green look. He smiled. The corner of his mouth wobbled a little. He wanted to kick himself. He couldn’t let her know how nervous he was.