by Jamie Beck
“Why do you sound miffed about the pottery?”
Miffed? What a perfectly Emma word. He wasn’t miffed, but it sounded nicer than infuriated, so he let it go. “Because he and I had a decent week together, but you keep finding other things for him to focus on. Is he the reason you keep shooting me down? Do you have a thing for my brother?” Wyatt held his breath, regretting his question.
“No!” Emma’s brows furrowed. “And I told you already, I’m not trying to come between you or suggesting that he abandon your training. But why can’t he also explore some things for himself so that, once you’ve accomplished your goals this year, he has something of his own?”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
Emma crossed her arms. “Then quit bringing it up.”
“I’m leaving.” Wyatt waved his hand in her face, only to quickly realize it showed his immaturity.
“Fine.” She bugged her eyes at him, then looked embarrassed that they’d both regressed to childlike behavior.
“Tell Trip I had to bolt, and apologize for my early exit.” He felt idiotic—like a four-year-old having a tantrum because someone stole his candy. Still, he didn’t even turn and look back as he made his way through the crowd.
Chapter Ten
When Wyatt returned to the inn, he walked in on Mari and Jim editing film in the dining room.
“Hey, guys.” Wyatt waved from the archway of the room. He opted not to sit with them because Mari followed his Twitter handle, and he didn’t want to give her a chance to grill him about the photo. At least it hadn’t been video.
Mari glanced at the clock. “You’re back earlier than expected.”
“I never planned to stay out late. Just needed a change of scenery.” Wyatt decided Mari hadn’t yet seen the Twitter feed, because if she had, the cameras would be on and she’d be slamming him with questions about Emma. “Ryder back yet?”
“I think so.” Mari barely looked up from the screen.
“’Night.” Wyatt wandered across the lobby to Ryder’s room and knocked on the door. “You in there?”
“Yeah,” came his reply through the door.
Wyatt entered the room and hung up Ryder’s jacket before he sat on the corner of the bed. College football played on the TV, although the volume had been turned down very low. “Thanks for the loan.”
“Sure.”
Emma’s lecture about Ryder’s future replayed in his mind. Maybe she had a small point, and Ryder could have a little something of his own without leaving Wyatt in his dust. He forced an upbeat attitude when he asked, “How was the pottery class?”
Ryder glanced at him, his expression cautious. “I liked it. The instructor said I’m a n-natural.”
The faint tone of pride coloring his brother’s speech caught Wyatt’s attention. Since the accident, his brother’s monotone voice made Wyatt question whether the brain damage had also stolen Ryder’s ability to feel things. Apparently it had only made it harder for Ryder to show emotion, but not impossible.
Confirming that, lurking beneath the stoic exterior, his brother still experienced some range of emotion other than anger made Wyatt want to dance. But sadness diminished that joy because Ryder’s response meant that Emma was right. Ryder was not as invested in being part of Wyatt’s team as Wyatt had hoped.
“That’s great, Ryder.” Wyatt playfully jiggled his brother’s foot. “I’m glad Emma suggested it.”
Perhaps that had been a slight exaggeration, but deep down he had to acknowledge his own selfishness. When he’d picked Sterling Canyon for his early training, he’d never anticipated the likes of Emma Duffy. Who would’ve thought a shy, conservative, older woman would throw all of his carefully laid plans into disarray?
Ryder sat up straighter against the headboard. “Where is she?”
“Still at the party. I came back to rest up for tomorrow.”
Ryder held up his phone so Wyatt could see the Twitter app opened. “After you k-kissed her?”
Wyatt shrugged, affecting a nonchalant posture. “She kissed me, but only as part of some stupid bet that Trip made. It’s a long story.”
Ryder tilted his head, clearly disbelieving him. His brother knew him better than anyone, maybe even better than he knew himself at times. The plain truth was that Wyatt wasn’t done with Emma, but he realized he couldn’t honestly pursue anything without knowing whether Ryder had feelings for her. “Do you like Emma? I mean, like, do you like her?”
“Not like you d-do.” Ryder wiggled the phone.
Relief rushed through Wyatt’s limbs. “Good.”
Ryder snickered; another sign that missing pieces of his personality were bubbling back to life.
“No more lectures about her. I’m going to bed. See you in the morning.” Wyatt stood and paused. Maybe Ryder did need his own life at some point, but Wyatt still liked having his brother along as much as possible. “Yoga at five forty-five?”
Ryder groaned. “Okay.”
When Wyatt made his way back through the lobby, he bumped into Mari, who was on her way upstairs. The smug smile playing about her mouth told him he was in trouble.
“Wyatt, I just saw the Twitter pic.” She rested her hands on her hips.
“It’s nothing.” Wyatt waved her off with a smile. “A dare from Trip, that’s all.”
“It’s out there on the Web now, so it’s not nothing. We need to talk about including her in the film.” Mari’s tone had shifted into business mode. “The good news is that a romantic angle lends another layer that people will love, especially if it can add a little conflict or tension to the story. Does she support your shift to freeriding competition, for example?”
Wyatt halted midway up the stairs. “Mari, I’ve told you from the outset, I’m trying to build a new image as a serious athlete, not a playboy.”
“I’m not talking about painting you as some gigolo. But a relationship with a small-town woman makes you more relatable and real to people, just like seeing you connect with those old people, or helping your brother, or any of this other personal stuff does. We need to give the audience a three-dimensional view of who you are so they are rooting hard for you once the qualifiers begin. That’s the momentum you want and need. That’s what will get you loyal sponsors. Especially if you’re choosing a girl as unlikely as Emma, with her quiet life here at this inn and the whole volunteering thing she has going on . . .”
The negative spin Mari’s tone cast on Emma’s life pissed him off. More importantly, if Emma couldn’t stand friends at a party staring at her, she sure as heck wouldn’t want to be part of a film that could subject her to much more public kinds of gossip and opinions. “Mari, there’s nothing between Emma and me. You’re running down a rabbit hole. That kiss happened because Emma wanted Trip to lose a hundred bucks. He never thought she’d do it.”
Mari narrowed her gaze, trying to decide if he was being truthful. “Okay, but if it changes, you need to let me know.”
Wyatt didn’t make her any promises. If she took his silence as assent, that’d be her problem, not his. He followed her upstairs and went to his room, eager to trade the button-down shirt and slacks for sweats and a pullover.
He’d flopped into bed by ten, so he turned on the TV to find something to hold his attention. Unfortunately, nothing—not football, Tosh.0 reruns, or ESPN—kept his thoughts from straying back to that super-hot kiss Emma’d laid on him at the party. She’d shocked him, but he wouldn’t complain. Her responsiveness proved she had some interest in him. A girl like her couldn’t have kissed him like that if she felt nothing.
Her words drifted back to him. “Trust me when I tell you, I’m not that memorable.” Did she think that because of the way her dad had walked out, or had some guy made her feel forgettable? He couldn’t imagine the latter, but she definitely had a self-esteem issue—one he’d be happy to help her remedy.
He wondered what time she’d get home, and whether he should wait up to continue the conversation she’d
been unwilling to have in public. They’d have some privacy here, and if he happened to convince her to loosen up a bit, there were plenty of bedrooms available.
He felt his lower half stir a little at that thought and decided he would wait up, however long it took.
Emma carefully picked her way across the walkway to the inn, bracing against the cold breeze. Her heels weren’t meant for winter weather, but she’d felt pretty in this outfit tonight. Wyatt seemed to have liked it, too, despite the fact it hadn’t been nearly as sexy as the getup she’d sported as Alexa.
She trembled then, but not from the cold. All those reasons he’d recited for being interested in her looped through her head again. In truth, they’d looped through her memory so many times since he’d left, they’d tied up her brain in knots.
He’d looked so earnest. A not so small part of Emma might enjoy taking advantage of the opportunity to explore a little romance while her mom remained out of the picture. If it were just Wyatt here without Mari and the crew—without Ryder—she might force herself to relax and go with the flow. It’d feel safe to let that part of her out to play for a while because the risk of anyone but her getting hurt would be low.
But Mari would be all over her if she knew. Emma had already grown accustomed to seeing the tripods and light stands everywhere and sometimes forgot to check whether the stupid cameras were running. Plus, Ryder might resent being a third wheel. The last thing she wanted to do was make him feel even more marginalized than he already did.
And then there were her secrets. If she’d reminded Wyatt about their night together when he’d first arrived—if she’d joked about it—it could’ve been less of a big deal. Maybe she could’ve sworn him to secrecy. A whole week later, though, she just felt more mortified. Mortified that he still hadn’t made any connection to their past and embarrassed that she’d covered it up. She couldn’t possibly reveal herself to be so ridiculous, awkward, and forgettable now. Besides, it wasn’t like that night meant anything to him anyway.
Even if she did confess about Aspen, she could never tell him about her book. That secret would go with her to her grave. Knowing him better now convinced her he’d misunderstand and assume that she’d planned the whole thing. That she’d seduced him in order to get material for her story. It hadn’t been that way, but given the combination of his mistrust of women and journalists (and her secrecy), he’d think her a liar.
Sighing at the quandary, she waltzed through the front door, removed her shoes, and quietly crept up the stairs, hoping not to wake anyone. As she rounded the second floor to head up to the third, Wyatt’s door opened. “Emma?”
She gulped, praying he didn’t want to continue the argument they’d been having when he’d left. She deflected her awkwardness with a joke. “Don’t tell me you’re hungry again?”
His eyes lit with mischief. “Not for food, anyway.”
Okay, so he wasn’t still pissy, but he was staring at her with a predatory intent she knew she’d be too weak to fend off. Especially when he looked a little sleepy, his hair rumpled, his cozy flannel pants hanging low, drawing her attention down there.
She shook her head, simultaneously enjoying and hating the flirtation. “Good night, Wyatt.”
“Hang on.” He stopped about two feet from her and rested his hand on the banister. He had attractive hands. Long fingers, trim nails, the lightest smattering of dark hair at his wrists. She knew from experience the pleasure those hands could bring, and that thought made her tingle. “Did Kelsey enjoy the rest of her party?”
“She did. Thanks for leaving so the spotlight stayed on her and Trip.” Emma dug into her purse and pulled out one hundred dollars. “Unlike you, I made Trip pay up.”
She handed him fifty, but he shook his head.
“You keep it. You earned it.” His tone had flattened, playfulness gone. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Uh oh,” she murmured, half-joking, half-terrified.
“I can’t decide if the real truth is that you’re refusing to spend time with me because you think I’m a user, or because you don’t want to end up on camera.”
The fact he seemed so troubled by her rejection surprised her. At first she’d suspected his ego couldn’t take the hit, but now she wondered if there was more to his persistence. “I don’t think you’re some jerk, Wyatt. And I do not want any part of my personal life to become memorialized as part of some documentary.”
He stepped a little closer, and her body predictably responded with a shock wave of flutters. Flutters she had to admit she enjoyed. His smoky, hazel eyes fixed on hers as he lowered his voice. “What if we kept it a secret?”
Another secret. If he only knew how hard it was for her to keep the secrets she already hid from the world. Another one might do her in.
“Listen, you’re good-looking, and you seem like a nice enough guy. But if we get together and it feels like a mistake for either of us, it could be uncomfortable for the rest of your stay. And if we hit it off, it will hurt when you go. Either way, it’s a bad idea.”
But the lusty devil whispered that it would no doubt provide hot memories for months to come.
He stood there, silently debating. His eyes scanned her from head to toe before focusing on her face, as if looking for some kind of sign. She braced for another argument, but he shrugged. “Seems I can’t talk you out of your opinion. But before you go upstairs, there’s something weird happening with the radiator in my room. Can you come take a quick look?”
She frowned. “I swear, I wish I’d win the lottery so I could afford to fix up this old place and make her beautiful and functional again.”
“I kind of like her just as she is.” He’d looked straight at Emma when he spoke, lest she missed his double meaning. A meaning she didn’t want to examine too closely.
She strode into his room and went directly to the radiator. Nothing appeared to be hissing or bubbling or cracked. “I don’t see anything weird.”
As she spoke those words, she vaguely registered the sound of the door closing. She turned around in time to catch Wyatt slowly prowling toward her. “That’s because I lied. I wanted to get you in here, where no one is listening or watching or gossiping, so we could be honest with each other.”
“Wyatt . . .” She waited for a surge of anger to arise, but instead her stupid feet just froze in place, and her body buzzed with nervous excitement. She’d seen this version of him before—the guy who liked to take control. She liked this version of Wyatt, too, and doubted she’d be able to resist him.
“Emma.” He came right up to her and cupped her face “Stop thinking for a few minutes. Just let go and give me control.”
And just like that, she dropped her shoes to the floor and gave in to his kiss.
Wyatt had a great mouth, with full lips and a very skilled tongue. Within seconds she’d abandoned all sense of right and wrong and let herself melt against him, her arms looping over his shoulders. A fallen woman . . . but, at the moment, a very happy one.
He clasped her wrists and, backing her up to the wall, pinioned her arms above her head as he pressed himself against her while kissing her mouth, jaw, and along her neck and shoulder.
She submitted completely, because she rather loved the sensation of being overwhelmed by his powerful body. Almost as if the choice had been stolen from her, although it hadn’t. She knew she had a choice, but he’d effectively maneuvered her so quickly, it allowed her to pretend she didn’t.
“Emma.” His ragged voice brushed across her ear as his hand found the inside of her thigh. “I’ve been thinking about you since I left the party. Tell me you want this.”
Her body quivered from the electrifying twinges firing through her limbs and into her core. Some dirty, carnal part of her did want this. Wanted this very much. Even though she knew regret would follow.
He stroked his hand up along the inner side of her leg until his fingers found her underwear. He dipped one inside the elastic band. “Tell me it’s okay.”
>
She could feel his erection throbbing against her hip.
“Yes,” she breathed, barely able to get the word out.
“You smell so good.” He licked her neck and dipped one finger inside of her body. “You feel good, too. So wet and ready.”
He withdrew his hand and licked his own finger. “You taste good.”
Unlike her, he had no shame or embarrassment about sex, his body, or hers. As Alexa, she’d been able to handle it all because she’d been playing a role. But here and now she was Emma. No hiding. No roleplaying. The intimacy and exposure caused a hot flush to color her entire body.
He spun her around until she faced the wall, then began unzipping her dress, all the while pressing kisses along her shoulders and spine. His mouth was hot and wet and very, very seductive. His desire and attention made her feel beautiful and sexy, and that rarely happened. Stupidly, her eyes misted at the realization.
He quickly tugged her dress down around her hips until it fell in a puddle around her feet. She stepped out of it, and he immediately placed her palms against the wall. “Keep your hands up here.”
She felt the warmth of his chest against her back, his rigid erection pressing against her rear. He fondled her breasts, his fingers rolling her nipples until she arched her spine. “You like that, Emma?”
He sucked at the sensitive spot on her neck just below her ear. Then his hand caressed its way down her stomach until it slid inside her underwear again, finding the spot that ached for his touch.
She gasped when he got there, which made his chest rumble with pleasure. “I want to make you explode.”
She heard herself panting, which should embarrass her, except her mind couldn’t focus on it for long enough to matter. Tendrils of pleasure stretched throughout her body, blotting out every one of her usual emotions. “Oh, oh, Wyatt.”