She strode confidently out the sliding glass doors that led to the deck, slipping into a white chaise lounge. Geez, it was hot. The makeup on her face broke out in its own layer of sweat.
Be cool, she reminded herself, reclining in the chair. She closed her eyes, buzzing with anticipation as the roar of the lawn mower grew closer. He would probably just stop mowing when he saw her, wondering who she was. When he approached, he’d be shocked that the babe he’d been admiring was actually Emma.
Her glee eroded as the engine’s noise faded when Cole pushed the mower around to the front of the house. He probably just hadn’t seen her. She’d have to be patient, but it would be so worth it. She’d been waiting two years for Cole to look at her the way he looked at Layla.
But when the roaring and fading of the engine had passed half a dozen times, Emma’s heart started to sink. The sun was scorching against her pale shoulders and sweat was pouring down her chest, soaking her unnecessary training bra. Cole wasn’t going to notice her.
She’d take a cool shower and read her new book. An ice cream bar might be in order, too. Just as she rose to go inside, the sputter of the mower’s engine going quiet made her turn. She froze in midair as Cole approached. His bare chest glistened with moisture in the bright sun and the lines of muscles stood out on his arms. Emma didn’t think anything had ever looked so good.
“Hey, Em,” he said, grinning and swiping a hand across his forehead to wipe the sweat off. Emma wished she could touch his long, wet layers of thick, blond hair. Was that gross? She wasn’t sure she’d even tell Dani about that. Wanting to touch anyone’s sweaty hair seemed abnormal.
“Hi, Cole,” she said, leaning casually against the deck rail.
“How’s your summer going?”
“Good. How’s yours?”
“It’s good. Football practice takes up --”
The swoosh of the sliding glass door made them both turn, and Emma’s mouth dropped open when Layla stepped through. Emma glanced at Cole, who smiled appreciatively at Layla’s cheerleading uniform – a short blue skirt and sleeveless top that exposed her flat stomach.
“Hi, Cole,” Layla said sweetly. Just when Emma had decided things couldn’t get worse, Layla’s friend Lane stepped out after her. Lane always had a snide comment about Emma’s glasses and frizzy hair.
Layla was about to breeze over her younger sister when she did a double take.
“Isn’t that my shirt?” she demanded. Emma looked down, as though seeing it for the first time.
“Umm…”
“What the hell did you do to your hair? Wait, is that … what’s all over your mouth, Emma?”
“You look like a prepubescent prostitute,” Lane laughed.
“Geez, Lane, don’t be such a bitch,” Cole said, shaking his head. “She’s just a kid.”
Emma knew the hotness spreading over her was not from the sun. She turned to duck inside the house, hiding her tears.
“Take my shirt off,” Layla said sharply. “And don’t ever --”
The sliding glass door cut her off as Emma closed it behind herself gratefully. When she blinked, the tears escaped, and she grimaced from the eye makeup that burned her eyes. She found her way to the bathroom and ran hot water onto a washcloth, roughly scrubbing the makeup from her skin.
What was I doing? No boy will ever notice me with Layla around. She’s the pretty one, and I’m the smart one. Except, unfortunately, she’s smart, too.
She closed the door to her bedroom and snuggled under the covers of her bed with a thick book. But try as she might, she couldn’t concentrate on it. All she could think of was Cole’s sweaty chest, his blue-gray eyes and the fact that he’d finally noticed her, all right. Too bad it had been one of the most humiliating moments of her life.
Now
As he flipped through the hard copy depositions his assistant had delivered, Cole’s mind wandered. It was Wednesday, and he’d been thinking about Emma constantly since their dinner Friday night. He had called her once just to talk and texted several times, but it wasn’t the same as being near her.
He kept remembering the way her face broke into an ethereal glow when she was about to laugh, and the sweet, longing sensation he felt in his groin every time she said his name. He rubbed a hand down his face, trying to shake the thoughts.
I can’t go there. This is Emma Carson. Mom will kill me – as in, literally maim and then kill me – if I mess with her. She’s always had a dream in the back of her mind of me and Layla ending up together. And work’s way too busy for a relationship, anyway. That’s why I’ve been alone since I started working, and I will be for a few more years until things settle down.
This morning he’d gone back to the coffee shop where they’d run into each other, hoping she’d be there. He couldn’t stop thinking about seeing her again at the gallery opening this weekend. For Emma, he’d pretend to be interested in art.
He started reading a deposition, deciding to become engrossed in it to clear his mind of her. But after several paragraphs, he found himself staring out the large glass window of his office.
What if someone else asks her out?
He grabbed his phone and typed out a message to her.
How about dinner tonight?
He tried to go back to the deposition, but found himself checking his phone every minute or so until it beeped with an incoming message.
Hanging out with Layla…won’t be free til 9…
He smiled as he wrote back.
9’s good. You pick the place. How’s work?
Her return message made him smile.
Just revolutionizing the design world one logo at a time. Dixon’s okay for dinner?
Cole started composing a message.
I love that place. I’ll eat you under the table.
He was about to press ‘send’ when he realized the double meaning. He wondered with a wicked grin what her reaction would be, but decided it was too early. He played it safe instead.
I love that place. See you then.
He turned back to his depositions, finding it was easier to concentrate on work now that he had plans to see her tonight.
Chapter 4
“So what’s up with this guy from work?” Layla asked, peering down at the color on her toenails as the polish dried.
“Hmm?” Emma looked up from the magazine she was reading as the salon worker scrubbed furiously at her feet. Apparently it had been too long since her last pedicure.
“The one who texted you the other day. What’s the deal with him?”
“Oh.” Emma stared back down at the magazine. Layla had an uncanny ability to tell when she was lying from her face. “He works on another floor. I’m having dinner with him tonight.”
“What’s he look like?”
“Really hot. He’s tall, with an amazing body and these blue eyes…”
“Sounds like you really like him.” Layla smiled at something she read on her phone.
“I’m not looking for anything serious.”
“Guess what Mom told me?” Layla said excitedly. “Cole’s coming to their Labor Day party. And he’s single! I was trying to pry and figure it out when we saw him the other day, but he never gave me a straight answer.”
Emma stopped breathing for what seemed like a long time. This was her chance to come clean to Layla about running into Cole. But that wasn’t what was really bothering her. The pit in her stomach was from knowing they would see each other again. Layla would work her magic, and Cole wouldn’t be able to resist it. He would look right past Emma, the quirky artist, and see only her sister, the beautiful attorney. She still couldn’t believe it hadn’t happened the other day.
“Maybe you should just wait and see if he asks you out,” Emma said, trying to keep her voice nonchalant as she flipped through the magazine pages.
“You know that’s not my style. We’re perfect for each other. It would be romantic if we ended up together after all these years apart.”
Em
ma shoved down the stabbing jealousy that rose within her. Layla wasn’t trying to hurt her; she didn’t even know Emma had been seeing Cole. And they weren’t dating, anyway.
“Maybe we can all go out,” Layla said, her eyes shining. “Me and Cole and you and the guy from work.”
“Sure,” Emma said, smiling to herself at the mental picture conjured by the thought.
*****
When her gaze landed on Cole perched at the bar in a dark t-shirt and faded jeans, Emma realized he looked every bit as good casual as he did in a suit. The t-shirt emphasized the lines of his wide shoulders and muscular back. She imagined pulling it off and running her fingers over his bare skin … sinking her nails into his back.
Wonder what he sounds like in bed? Hot. I’m sure he sounds hot.
“Hey there,” she said as she approached.
“Hi,” he said, getting up to greet her. She grinned when he gave her another kiss on the cheek. “This place smells great, let’s get a table.”
She had chosen a casual barbeque restaurant that was one of her Dad’s favorite places to go when just the two of them were having lunch.
“I’ve been thinking about this art exhibit we’re going to, and I need some advice,” Cole said as they waited for their food to arrive. “Help me out with some things I can say to people there to make me sound like I know what I’m talking about. Something besides, ‘That’s my favorite color’.”
Emma laughed at his grin.
“You don’t have to be an artist to enjoy art,” she said. “Just say what you feel.”
“Do you always say what you feel?” he asked. Emma’s pulse quickened at the low tone of his voice and his meaningful expression.
“Um … I do when it comes to art,” she said. A slight smile curved up his lips.
“And the rest of the time?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I guess I tend to keep things to myself. What about you?”
“Usually I say what I feel, unless it would hurt someone.”
“Layla’s the straightforward one in our family,” Emma said. “She’s looking forward to seeing you at the Labor Day party, by the way.” An edge crept into her voice.
Cole flashed a quick look of annoyance.
“I’m expecting you to make that bearable, you know,” he said.
“Oh, I bet you’ll find Layla more than bearable.”
“Will you be there, Em? At your parents’ party?”
“I haven’t managed to escape one yet,” she said dryly. “So yeah, I’ll be there.”
“Good. You know, my Mom’s always had this hope in the back of her mind that Layla and I would end up together.”
“She must be conspiring with my Mom, because she’s got the same hope,” Emma said, smiling though the thought made her sad.
“It’ll never happen. I like Layla and all, but I just don’t feel that way about her. She’s … just not someone I’d be happy with.”
A couple seconds passed, and Emma asked Cole about work to relieve the tension. He told her about a trademark infringement case he was working on, which brought out his enthusiasm.
“There’s compelling case law on our side,” he said. “It makes all the late nights of research worth it when you’re confident walking into court.”
“You like your work – it really shows.”
“I do. But someday it would be nice to work on something that matters. Something that could change lives for the better. Right now I’m just a suit, looking out for corporations.”
“How’s your sister?” Emma asked. “She’s a doctor, right?”
“Shay? Yeah, she’s downstate.”
“I never really got to know her well, since she was already in college when you guys moved in. I never saw her much.”
“Yeah.”
“Is she married? Does she have kids?”
“Nope. Hey, are you up for a walk on the pier?” he asked, passing the server the check and his payment.
“You’re not paying again,” she protested, reaching for her purse.
“I just did.” He smiled.
Will that smile ever stop making me feel like I just melted into a puddle on the floor? Cole Marlowe had always possessed the kind of charm that was real, not contrived. Men with fake smiles and shitty pickup lines were easy to turn down, but when Cole looked at her, Emma felt like the only woman in the world.
I’m not, though. I’m probably the only one he knows in the city right now, so we’re hanging out. When he meets someone he wants to date, that’ll be it for us.
“What’s your best memory from high school?” he asked as they slowly made their way to the pier.
“Oh, there are so many to choose from,” she said sarcastically.
“You didn’t love high school, then?”
“No, but it was okay in its own way, I guess. It’s where I discovered art. Without Mrs. Blickenstaff I never would have pursued it, and I can’t imagine what my life would be like without it. I had a few close friends, discovered some treasured books, had some good times. My experience was just … different … from yours, and Layla’s.”
“Still waiting to hear your best memory,” he said, looking ahead at the pier.
“Okay, if you really want to hear about the loss of my virginity. It was my junior year, and Connor May --”
“No!” he protested, gaping at her. “Is that really your best memory?”
“No, it’s a lousy one. Okay … best memory.” She leaned against the rail of the pier, gazing out at the black night water. “I won the ‘Emerging Artist’ award my junior year, which was pretty amazing. But there was also my freshman year when I was in the stands at the playoff game where you scored the winning touchdown.”
“Really?”
“Isn’t that your best memory?”
He shrugged, looking away, and Emma couldn’t place his expression.
“I guess it is,” he said.
“Or prom night? With the lovely Layla Carson?”
He shook his head.
“It was okay, I guess. I think we went to the dance and then a party and we didn’t even stay out that late.”
Yeah, according to my sister it was a little more than that, Cole. Or have you forgotten?
“I always wondered what it was like to be one of the chosen ones,” she said. Cole looked at her quizzically.
“It’s what we art nerds called the kids like you and Layla. The ones who could have anything, do anything you wanted.”
“I don’t know about that. I worked hard for my grades and I worked hard at football.”
“I didn’t mean those things,” Emma said. “I meant the social stuff.”
“Oh. Well, it wasn’t that great, honestly. A lot of those kids were assholes. I was glad to get away when I went to college.”
“I never would have guessed that,” she said. Cole leaned his arms on the railing, too, scooting closer so their arms were touching.
Oh, holy shit. He’s touching me. On purpose. I’m going to die. Right here and now.
“I like being with you, Em,” he said softly. She wanted to respond, but all she could do was stare into his cloudy sky eyes, wondering if this was the longest, most vivid dream of her life.
As he leaned down to bring his lips to hers, her inner voice protested. He’s kissed Layla, you know. You’ll be a disappointment compared to her.
But she had dreamed of this moment through her entire adolescence, and she’d be damned if her inner pessimist was ruining it. She tuned the voice out just as Cole gently pressed his mouth to hers, the breeze blowing her hair as she kissed him back.
The kiss was warm and sweet, with a lone sweep of his tongue into her mouth that promised something more. She could smell him, feel the heat of his body, and the intimacy of it made her inner fourteen-year-old do a cartwheel.
He ended the kiss but kept his face near hers as they huddled close. It was a moment she didn’t want to spoil with words, so she silently tried to commit his scent
to memory. She was sure she’d never again be able to hear the gentle swirling of waves in the breeze without thinking of him.
I can’t wait to tell Layla about this.
Guilt stabbed her in the gut as she realized she couldn’t. She could tell her, she’d just have to pretend it was the imaginary guy from her office who was making her feel a rush of something she’d never experienced from a kiss.
I’d rather say nothing than lie, she thought sadly. But the sadness dissipated quickly as Cole reached for her hand.
“It means a lot to me that you were at that game,” he said, his voice almost sad. Emma was sure she’d been less than irrelevant in his high school life, but she squeezed his hand with gratitude just the same.
“Want to walk out to the end?” he asked.
“Sure.”
It was late and she had to get up early for work the next day, but Emma didn’t care. Instead of painting imagined magic, she was experiencing some, and she didn’t want it to end.
Then -- Ten years earlier
The football spiraled toward him, making a perfect arc before falling into Cole’s open arms. He clutched it tightly, unwilling to take any chances in the game that would land his team in the state playoffs.
He charged ahead, his feet moving swiftly to avoid the other team’s defenders, his mind blocking out the deafening noise of the screaming crowd. This was a big game; his school hadn’t made it to the state playoffs in more than 20 years.
His friend Drew smashed into a player from the other team, knocking him into the air for several seconds before he hit the field with a thud Cole felt the vibration of. He’d have to thank Drew later.
Right now, his mission was his team’s goal post. He ducked his head and ran with everything he had. All the years of training, grueling practices and long weight lifting sessions had prepared him for this moment. He was a senior, so it was now or never.
Now and Then Page 4