by Alice Ward
He let out a slow, soft laugh. “That’s because of the chocolate on my mouth. I was a disgrace. I was begging to be made fun of.”
“I wouldn’t have made fun of you.”
“I know you wouldn’t have. You would’ve probably felt sorry for me. But now you can see why I won’t show these pictures to another living soul.”
I smiled. That he’d trusted me with this… I knew something big was happening between us. Something that wouldn’t easily be rendered apart. When he set the phone down and wrapped his arms around me, he kissed the top of my head like I was something very precious to him.
“I love this,” I told him, feeling high and snuggly in my bed, his arms caging me in, his fingers playing with my hair.
“Better than your race car driver fantasies?”
“Please. Way better.” And maybe it was the codeine talking, but I felt brazen. “Besides, even if you couldn’t drive a lick, you’re way hotter than all of them put together.”
He smiled and dipped his head down, kissing me again, his lips tender and sweet. “I love you, Emma.”
Before I could respond, he covered my mouth again, taking my words, my breath, my soul with his kiss. Then he turned me on my side until my back was spooned against his front, his lips on my shoulder, my neck, my ear.
When he slipped inside my body, it was the most tender of connections. I’d never had sex like this, his cock gliding in and out of me from behind with the gentle flex and withdrawal of his hips.
But just because it was tender didn’t mean it wasn’t intense. I moaned, not from pain, but from the exquisite pleasure he gave me.
His hand came around and our fingers linked together. I lifted his hand to my mouth, pressing my lips against his knuckles as emotion clogged my throat.
Crying during sex wasn’t anything I ever expected to do, but the tears fell as he whispered into my ear how much he cared for me, how much I meant to him, how much I’d changed his life, his words in time with each stroke.
Nothing had been so simple or meant more than those stolen moments of Locke loving me with a tenderness I didn’t know existed. It broke down the final walls that I’d surrounded myself with for so very long.
“More, Locke. Give me more.”
He kissed my shoulder, thrusting a bit harder, a bit deeper. “I’ll give you everything.”
Each rhythmic thrust was slow and deep, a melting together of our bodies, our lives. He loved me. Loved me.
Tomboy.
Redneck.
Hot head.
Woman.
He hadn’t tried to change me. Maybe file down some of my roughest edges, but he loved me exactly as I was.
When a deep wave of release hit me, I cried out his name, and found him already there, riding the wave with me. He pulled me tighter against his chest, my lips on my neck as we shuddered together. I stayed there, motionless with him deep inside me, content not to move for the rest of the night. Hell, maybe for the rest of my life.
“Boss?” I whispered when I could finally breathe again.
“Yes, my love?”
Very slowly and with the agony of a thousand sore places pulling at once, I turned over to face him. I needed to see his eyes, his expression. I linked our fingers together as our breath mingled in the space between us.
“I love you too.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Locke
With the Shred Like a Girl campaign in the record books, it was time to start looking for prospects for the Hang Like a Girl ads. We had a few ideas lined up, aerial artists from all over the country, but now I needed to go through and narrow down the best ones. Laura had been begging me to take a look for a week, and I’d been putting it off. So the morning after the accident, I set up shop in Emma’s apartment, trying to page through their bios from there as she rested.
It wasn’t easy though.
My email was on fire. Every time I answered one, another came in. They all revolved around the incident at Pocono.
You sly dog! Are you tapping that? An old friend from college had written.
One of my female clients, who’d always had a thing for me, had sent, Don’t tell me you’re off the market! I might die!
Our in-house counsel wrote, I must warn you that this kind of behavior isn’t advisable.
My voice mail was full of calls from reporters. I didn’t know how they got my private cell number, but somehow, they had. I deleted the messages, one by one, shooting off emails to a few people, making a half-hearted attempt to do damage control.
But if there was damage, it wasn’t to what I felt for Emma. Even if my company dissolved to shit, and everything else fell apart… I had Emma. That was most important. And what the hell did it matter what Emma and I did in our private lives? So what if I was her sponsor and just happened to be in love with her. I should’ve been able to shout it from the rooftops. It was none of their damn business.
I got a text from Laura an hour later, as I was still trying to make it through the first line of a bio from an aerial artist who lived in Minneapolis. Wow, this has media circus written all over it.
I texted back. We are both consenting adults. It’s not that bad.
A second later. Tell that to the twenty reporters I just talked to. You two are front-page news.
I laughed bitterly at the ridiculousness of it all. It was a fucking kiss. I hadn’t stripped her naked and made love to her right there. Must have been a slow news day, if a fucking kiss was front-page news.
Then I thought of what Emma had said. This wasn’t hitting me nearly as bad as it was hitting her. In this fucked up world, I was the conqueror, the hero. But Emma had been reduced to an opportunistic slut. That was the damage I had to repair.
My thumbs flew over the screen. All right, what should we do?
Press conference, stat, came back her answer. Where are you?
Emma’s.
Please tell me there are no reporters parked outside.
I didn’t even stand up to check. No clue. Not when we came in last night, at least.
Are you decent?
I rolled my eyes and typed. Funny.
Hold tight. Joe and I will be right over.
Right.
It was probably a good idea to have a damage control powwow with Laura and Joe, our PR guy extraordinaire, before this got any more out of control. I threw my phone down and stretched, then went to check on Emma. She was beaten, that was for sure, because it was ten and she was still dreaming away, looking angelic in her sleep. I smiled at her and went out to the balcony for some air.
It was hot, with not a sea breeze to be found. The ocean was a thin line of turquoise blue in the distance. In another week, Emma was to compete in another race in Bristol, but I’d already called to say that wasn’t happening. Her future schedule was on the back burner until she felt strong enough to get back into it. I thought of the crash and wondered if I’d ever be strong enough to last through another crash like that. I hoped I wouldn’t have to.
I answered the door when they knocked and led them into Emma’s unlived-in living room. Laura came in and looked around. “Her father went to pick up her mother at the airport. They should be here in another hour or so. How is she?”
“Fine. Beat up. Still sleeping.”
We sat down on the cream-colored sofas, and I put my feet up on the glass coffee table. Joe, a former Olympian in halfpipe skiing, used to look at me with admiration. Hell, he’d even told me I was his idol when he’d started his job. Now he looked at me like I was some kind of moron. As a public relations man, he was used to putting out fires, but probably nothing as scandalous as this damn kissed that had purportedly rocked the NASCAR world to its core.
“Hey,” I said in response to his reproachful look. “There’s no such thing as bad publicity.”
“That remains to be seen,” he said, running his hands through his crazy brown hair before pulling his laptop from his bag. He sat down and opened it. “Okay, so, I’ve gotten
the press release drafted. Want me to give it a read? See how it feels to you?”
Laura nodded.
He cleared his throat. “Locke Cage, owner of Uncaged Fitness, responded today to rumors of a possible relationship with his sponsored race car driver, Emma James. After James was involved in a harrowing crash at the Pocono Raceway during the Pocono 400, cameras recorded Cage coming to the aid of James and kissing her passionately at the crash site.”
With that, he looked at me pointedly, as if he expected me to explain myself.
“Nix kissing passionately,” Laura demanded. “Change to, embracing with obvious concern for her welfare.”
I looked at Laura, astonished. So rather than tell the truth, it was better if we fabricated things? When had she become so tainted to think that lying was better than being straight with people? “What? Anyone with eyes could see that was a lie. We kissed. With tongue. For like, ten minutes.”
She scowled at me. “I don’t know that it’s a lie. The camera was far away. There were lots of people around, in the way. It could’ve been an embrace.”
All right, fuck it. Whatever.
“Go on,” I barked.
He looked back at the paper. “Well, this is where we’d add a quote from you, Mr. Cage. I put in, ‘Miss James and I are friends, and I am emotionally invested in the welfare of all my properties. I was merely beside myself with worry after the accident, concerned for her wellbeing. When she opened her eyes, I was overcome with emotion, which I may have expressed inappropriately. My actions were unwarranted, completely unprovoked by Miss James, and I would like to express my sincere apologies to Miss James and her family.”
I stared at Joe, horrified. “What? No. Inappropriate? I didn’t molest her. That makes it seem like I was copping feels. She kissed me back.”
Laura shook her head. “That’s not going to fly though. There is no relationship, remember.”
I let out a huff of air. “But there is one. There’s nothing inappropriate about my response, considering I—”
“Locke,” Laura cut in. “Don’t. I’m sure you’ve already gotten a talking-to from our attorneys. And as an attorney myself, I happen to concur. This angle is the best for all involved.”
“But I—”
“You’re thinking with the wrong head,” she said, looking at Joe. “Go with it. Get it released to all the outlets, now. Set the press conference up for three.”
He nodded and started to get to work as I motioned Laura toward me. We walked out into the hallway, and I leaned against the wall. “Who’s going to believe that? It’s clear I kissed her. And she kissed me back.”
“It doesn’t matter, Locke.”
“So you’re saying I have to continue to lie about us.”
She nodded. “You are friends. Focus on that because it’s the truth. Do you know what kind of legal trouble we could be in if you go around telling the world you’re boinking her? Notwithstanding the fact that she’s already getting backlash from people thinking she slept her way into this sponsorship deal. Do you really think that’s fair to her? If we don’t do this, it’ll only get worse. She’ll never be seen as a serious competitor. And isn’t that what you want? Isn’t that what she wants?”
I thought of everything Emma had said last night. She’d been so livid of the news coverage focusing on her as a bit of fluff among the serious contenders. Yes, that was all she wanted — to be seen as one of them. It was my fault they’d ignored the crash and the fact that she’d been racing so well up until then. I’d deprived her of that opportunity.
And damned if it didn’t make me feel like total, absolute shit.
“All right,” I said finally. “Fine.”
“To be honest, it would be better if this wasn’t a lie,” she added. “If you were smart, you’d consider that.”
I studied her. She couldn’t be suggesting…
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that you should end things with her. Now. Before this gets any worse. And I promise you, Locke. It will get worse. Especially if they find out you two have been sneaking around despite your statement saying you’re just friends. Now you guys are the biggest mystery on the face of the Earth, and reporters will just be dying for the chance to prove this statement wrong.” She threw up her hands. “Is she really worth it? You’ve never cared so much about any woman before.”
That’s because Emma is different. She was worth it. I didn’t care what would happen to me, though. It was her I was worried about. “All right. Fine. It’s over.”
“No,” she corrected, giving me a hard look. “It never began.”
I nodded, feeling numb, lifeless. “Right. It never began.”
“And you’ll be prepared to make a statement to that effect today at three?”
I nodded, as much as I didn’t want to. I didn’t care so much that it made me look like a total pervert who’d taken advantage of my property. Yes, that sucked, but worse was the fact that I was sick of hiding. I thought the one good thing that would come out of this was that we’d be able to put ourselves out in the open. But my hands were tied by the love and respect I had for Emma as a woman and an athlete. My sister was right. I couldn’t be responsible for stripping Emma from her dream.
“Good.”
When I looked at her next, she was studying me closely. I’d had a shower but hadn’t shaved, and my eyes were bloodshot from the late night. I was still wearing yesterday’s clothes, the ones I’d been wearing at the raceway, since I hadn’t stopped back at my apartment, and they were rumpled. I knew I looked like shit. She touched my arm and I flinched, even though I saw sympathy in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Locke. I know it’s not what you want to do.”
I huffed out a laugh and didn’t meet her eyes. I kept staring at a blank spot on the wall, thinking of how shitty and self-absorbed I’d been. I needed to think of Emma now.
“No. It’s fine. You’re right.” I swallowed back the bile in my throat. “I don’t want Emma there though. She’s been through enough. This shitstorm was my doing, and I should face it alone.”
She nodded, giving me a pat on the arm. Then she and Joe packed up their belongings and left.
With a heart that felt like it was a frozen block of ice in my chest, I went in to check on Emma. She was still sleeping in the same position I’d last seen her. I stared at her beautiful face.
I’m sorry that I have to do this, but it’ll be better for you this way.
The doorbell rang. I knew it was her parents even before I answered. Mr. James was probably the jolliest man I’d ever seen. Fat and happy, like Santa Claus without the beard. He’d always had a joke for me, and I could tell Emma adored him.
I didn’t have to worry whether they’d seen the news reports. He was frowning at me like I’d done him wrong. Like I’d defiled his little girl. Maybe he’d already read the release and thought I was a perverted opportunist who’d sexually harassed his daughter.
He moved past me, into the apartment, and dropped his wife’s suitcase on the floor. If he was impressed by her apartment, he didn’t show it.
Mrs. James was wringing her hands. “Where is she?”
“She’s sleeping,” I said, pointing the way to the bedroom as I gathered my things into my bag. “She seems all right. She should take some more codeine, though, if she has any pain.”
They just stared at me, like I was an unwelcome visitor.
“I suppose I’ll be off,” I said, heading for the door. I could feel the weight of their eyes heavy on me, and I knew I couldn’t leave it like this. I turned to them. “I’m sure you saw the news reports, and I wanted to apologize for my response to the accident yesterday. I’m sure it was embarrassing to her, and to you, and it wasn’t what I intended.”
Mr. James stared at me. “All right.”
“I was just… very worried for her,” I continued, coughing to clear the emotion from my throat. “Anyway, if I’d had the foresight to know how the media would take it, I obviously
wouldn’t have done it. I wouldn’t have done anything to intentionally harm her.”
He nodded slightly, but he didn’t give away any of what he might have been thinking. This was a side of Mr. James that all of Emma’s stories about him, stories that painted him as a big teddy bear, hadn’t revealed. The silence stretched on, and I knew I’d overstayed my welcome.
“Well, have a good day,” I finally said.
I inhaled hard when I was outside in the hallway. I could almost feel the chill of their hate on my back as I left. Holy shit, how had one kiss made me Public Enemy Number One, and totally destroyed the only chance I had of being with the one person who made me truly happy?
***
I stopped at my apartment to shower and change, then went to my office, meanwhile sorting through the breaking news surrounding the Emma James story. The press release’s false quote from me had quickly begun to filter through the news outlets. I read it over and over again, feeling like a traitor to myself. To Emma.
I went into the bathroom to freshen up before the conference, all the while feeling sad and sick. My reflection in the mirror was sallow, my face drawn, eyes bloodshot. Despite the shower and new clothes, I still looked like I’d been through a war. How much longer would we have to go on like this? Forever? If it went on much longer, it would probably tear us apart.
At fifteen till three, I got a text from Laura. Are you on your way? It’s standing room only here.
I texted back that I was coming right down, grabbed my phone and started to head downstairs.
But before I could make it out of the door, I saw Emma in the hallway, coming toward me. I blinked, wondering if I was just seeing things. She was limping cautiously, favoring one leg. Shit. I hadn’t wanted her here. I hadn’t wanted her to be subjected to any media firestorm.
“What are you doing here?” I asked her, pulling her to my chest, then picking her up to carry her to my office.
“What are you doing?” She frowned when I put her down. She was holding up her phone. “I read the latest news story. You behaved inappropriately? Really?”
“I know. I know. But this is the way it has to be, and if you want them to take you seriously, I need to do this.”