A Hot Winter (New Adult Romance) (The Attraction Series Book 2)

by Lake, C. J.

  “Nope.”

  “Not even that maybe you’d slipped through a portal to another dimension and ended up in 1957?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The image of fuzzy slippers and hair curlers is a little archaic,” she explained, smiling at him with mock pity.

  “So you don’t deny you have a ratty bathrobe somewhere around here? That’s basically what you’re saying.”

  “I’m saying nothing,” she insisted, appearing to suppress a grin. “By the way, help yourself to coffee,” she said suddenly, motioning toward the counter behind her.

  After about ten minutes, Emma began tapping her pen on the table and said, “There are always a few I can’t get.” She chewed her lip thoughtfully for another minute, before turning to Matt. “Hey--here’s one you might know.”

  “Okay, let’s hear it.”

  “‘Common woodworker’s tool.’ Two words.”

  “Try drill press,” Matt said.

  “Hey, that fits!” She smiled at him. “Thank you,” she said, scribbling in the answer. “You have no idea what this means to me,” she added, which made him laugh.

  “Uh-huh. So what else?”

  “Um, let’s see…oh, you’d probably know this one. ‘Another name for internal combustion engine,’” Emma said.

  “And why would I know that? You think because I’m a guy I automatically know about cars?”

  “No…I just…”

  “I’m kidding,” he said. “It’s diesel.”

  Looking down at the newspaper, Emma smiled. “Nice!”

  As she wrote it in, Matt said, “C’mon, is that all? No questions about beer? Sports? Electric razors?”

  “So sensitive…” Emma teased. “Fine, I’ll ask you this one. ‘Nabucco composer.’”

  “Uh…pass.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she said with a laugh. “Final one: ‘PS4 game or a criminal profession,’” she read.

  “Thief,” Matt guessed. “Does that fit?”

  “Yes, that’s it,” Emma said gleefully, filling in the blocks. “You’re great at this!”

  Matt smiled at her. “It doesn’t take much to make you happy, does it?”

  “Honestly no,” she admitted, then set down the paper and picked up her mug. “Thanks for helping me finish.”

  “Sure,” Matt told her. “I’m happy to complete you.” Emma just laughed and slid off her chair to get a refill.

  Matt inhaled a breath, focused back on the walls. He’d almost replied, “I’m happy to help you finish,” but stopped himself in time, because it was way too sexual. He couldn’t afford to get that comfortable with Emma; it would probably scare her off. That would be bad, because whether they hooked up or not, he genuinely liked her.

  “Listen, I have to go to another job when I finish this wall,” Matt informed her. “But I’ll be back later this afternoon to paint the trim. Is that cool?”

  “Sure, that works.”

  Just then Emma’s cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket and twisted her lips when she saw the number. “It’s my boss. De-stressing time is officially over.” She gave Matt one more smile as she took the call and left the room.

  ~

  Several hours later, Emma returned to her house just as Matt was finishing up the trim and getting ready to go. She’d put the spaghetti-casserole--Jake’s favorite dinner--in the oven and left Matt about thirty minutes earlier to go pick up her sons from their respective schools. If it were anyone else in her house, she would have been way too nervous to leave them unattended, but Matt was different. Strangely, she trusted him. And she supposed the fact that he was best friends with Tragan gave him some inherent credibility as a good person.

  Now, as Jake and Ben bounded through the door like hyper puppies let out of a cage, Emma’s cell rang. “Don’t forget, take your boots off!” she called after them as she picked up the call.

  “Hi, Derek.”

  “Emma, I just got off the phone with Marta Vincent. She was pretty upset.”

  “About what?” Emma said, feeling nerves coil in her belly. Did Marta think the editorial notes were too critical? It seemed hard to fathom, but what else would make her mad?

  “Apparently she felt you kicked her out of your house yesterday. She said you all but sent her to certain death--”

  “What?”

  “--because a blizzard was coming and you were ushering her out.”

  “Derek, come on,” Emma said, stopping short of pleading with him to be reasonable. Even though he was her boss, it helped that Derek had known Connor back in Ithaca. Emma doubted he would have hired her to work at his magazine three years ago had it not been for that personal connection. Still, Marta was Alien Notion’s headliner at the moment. If Emma couldn’t successfully handle “the talent,” her promotion would be in serious jeopardy. “First of all, there was no blizzard yesterday.”

  “I know, but I’m just telling you what she told me,” he said blandly. “She said she was practically in tears on the drive home.”

  What a nut-job! Emma thought, feeling furious instead of sympathetic.

  “She said you seemed to hate the Army of Mutant Lemurs she came up with, and she couldn’t understand why.”

  Rubbing her temple, Emma made a conscious decision not to argue--not to try to persuade Derek to see her side and not to cast Marta Vincent as the self-important drama queen she was. Instead, Emma listened to Derek’s calm warning about keeping “the talent” happy, and gave her some pointers about diplomacy. When he was done, Emma apologized for the misunderstanding and concealed her frustration as they ended the call.

  Only after she tossed her cell phone on the couch did she realize that she’d lost track of her sons. But she followed the sound of laughter and little voices that came from the kitchen.

  When she stepped into the kitchen, Ben turned and beamed a smile at her. “Mommy, look! I drew a sunshine.” He pointed proudly to the circle with spikes that he’d painted on Matt’s navy blue drop cloth.

  “Matt, what should I paint?” Jake said, holding up a thin paintbrush, soaked in paint.

  “Whatever you want, buddy.”

  When Emma looked questioningly at him, Matt shrugged. “They were telling me about Color Club after school today, and I said they could paint something if they want. It’s only a drop cloth.”

  “Mommy, did you see my sunshine?” Ben persisted.

  She looked down and smiled widely for him. “Yes, I see it--I love it!” She wrapped him in a hug. “It’s beautiful, I love everything about it.”

  Matt smiled at her.

  “I’m going to paint a dog,” Jake announced and got started.

  Emma glanced up and said, “Thanks for letting them paint.”

  Once Jake was done and Emma had praised his art, too, she said, “Okay, now wash your hands and sit down for dinner.”

  As Matt packed up everything and walked to the archway, Ben said, “Matt, you sit here.”

  He stopped short, looked over.

  Emma realized that Ben was under the misconception that it was dinner time for everyone, including Matt.

  “No, sweetie, Matt’s going home now,” she explained gently.

  “But it’s dinner time,” Jake interjected, apparently also under the same impression. “Matt can sit here,” he reiterated, pointing to the same chair that Ben had--the one across from Emma’s, the one that was always empty.

  “Um…”

  “Guys, I’d love to,” Matt jumped in. “But…”

  “Did you want to stay for dinner?” Emma said, surprising herself by blurting out the question. “You’re totally welcome to--but please don’t feel obligated,” she amended quickly.

  “Really, I’d love to,” Matt told her, his eyes looking directly into hers. “But I have plans already.”

  “Of course,” she said quickly, now feeling stupid that she’d allowed her sons--who were all of seven and four-years-old--to guide her. She also felt a little embar
rassed and sort of rejected. “Sure, we understand. Well, thanks for everything. Looks great,” she threw in, motioning toward the walls.

  “Why can’t Matt stay for dinner?” Ben asked, still not getting it.

  “It’s spaghetti-casserole night,” Jake added as if that should speak for itself.

  “Um, next time, guys,” Matt said casually. “By the way, Emma--I noticed there were two loose floor tiles in the bathroom. I’ll fix those tomorrow. I don’t have the right tools with me to do it today.”

  “Oh, okay. Um, just add it to your bill,” she said. Matt said nothing to that.

  When she walked him to the door, she felt inexplicably self-conscious. Maybe because she suspected he had a date tonight. Those were probably his “other plans.” The thought made her unfairly jealous. Maybe she was afraid he could sense it, see it all over her face.

  “‘Night, Emma,” he said, his deep, masculine voice rolling over her name in a way she would probably never get tired of, and then he was gone.

  Chapter 16

  The next morning Emma’s door flew open. “Matt--thank God you’re here!”

  “Hey…” he said, wiping his boots on the mat. “What’s up?”

  Pushing the door shut, she handed him the newspaper, which was folded to the crossword puzzle. “There are two I can’t get.”

  With a laugh, he said, “Okay, I’ll see what I can do. By the way, I brought you a bagel.” He took a small bag out of his jacket pocket and handed it to her.

  “Thanks…you didn’t have to--”

  “I know, add it to my bill, I know.”

  Emma ignored his sarcasm, not sure what to make of it. When they stepped into the kitchen, she said, “Coffee?”

  “No, thanks. I had some earlier.” As Matt shed his jacket and laid down a new drop-cloth, Emma climbed back on her chair and picked up the pen she’d left on the table. Despite the light snow falling, the sun shone brightly, almost blindingly today. There was a peaceful feeling that settled over her on days like this, especially in her cozy kitchen. Though she willed herself not to think about it, she really would miss this house.

  “So lay it on me,” Matt said.

  “All right. The first one I don’t even understand, so you probably won’t either.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Oh, no, I mean…” Humbly, she laughed. “I just meant it makes no sense.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “‘A pass route fake-out?’” she read, confused.

  “Buttonhook.”

  Her head snapped up. “You’re kidding me.” Though, her incredulity faded as she counted the spaces and realized that Matt’s answer fit. “What in the world is that?” she said.

  “It’s a football play.”

  “Ohh…” she murmured, writing it in, “that explains why it sounded so utterly foreign and confusing.”

  “Not a football fan, huh?”

  “I mean, I can definitely sit through it,” she said, remembering spending endless Sundays and Monday nights watching football with Connor. Well, they’d only seemed endless, of course. Pushing the maudlin thought aside, she grinned at Matt as she told him, “You’re really good at these. I think we’ve found a hidden talent.”

  “I have a few,” Matt said as his eyes locked with hers.

  Emma’s breath caught and she tried not to feel a spark between them. Even contemplating Matt’s innuendo was a bad idea. Way too tempting. And too torturous. The thought of kissing him really turned her on. Feeling his hands on her, his tongue…rolling around in bed with him… Emma sucked in a breath as tingling heat spread down her body.

  Suddenly the doorbell rang.

  Thank God.

  Their eye contact broke, as she murmured, “Who could that be?” and slid off her chair. When she peeked out the side window, she saw only a large brown box leaning against the door. It appeared to be nearly the same height as her, and when she opened the door and tried to lift it or even drag it, she gave up on self-reliance pretty quickly. “Matt?” she called out. “Will you help me?”

  ~

  “What is it?” Matt asked as he carried the box on his shoulder, and set it down in Emma’s office, as she requested.

  “A package from my dad in Switzerland,” she said, reading the packing label. “Must be something for the boys for Christmas.” Emma plopped down on the floor, sitting cross-legged as she tore at the box’s packing tape with a letter opener she grabbed from her desk. As Matt turned to go, she stopped him. “Want to see what it is?”

  “Sure.” He crouched down so he was no longer towering over her and helped her rip the box open at the seam. What revealed itself was the most elaborate model train station he’d ever seen. “Wow, this is awesome,” Matt said excitedly and started pulling pieces out of the box. “Damn,” he remarked, as the pieces kept coming…and coming. “Not exactly Fisher Price is it?”

  “My dad goes big,” Emma admitted. “He’s really generous, especially when it comes to Jake and Ben.”

  “They’re gonna love it.”

  With a sigh, Emma smiled. “Yeah,” she agreed. Then she gazed at Matt. Their faces were close, closer than they’d ever been. Matt’s eyes dropped to Emma’s mouth. And her eyes dropped to his. There seemed to be an invisible pull between them, a force drawing them together. God, he’d had enough. He needed to kiss her, to take her mouth with his, to run his tongue on hers. He didn’t know how much longer he could fight this attraction--or ignore the stirring in his cock now as she licked her lips and began to lean closer…

  Abruptly, then, the spell broke.

  It was like something occurred to Emma that made her pull back.

  “Well,” she said suddenly, her voice nearly a yelp. She darted her eyes around until they settled on the box in front of her. “I, uh, should get started trying to put this together. I’m used to putting toys together, so hopefully this one will be self-explanatory. How hard could it be?” she prattled on, and Matt said nothing. He just watched her nervously trying to talk over what had almost happened.

  Frustrated, he swallowed down his disappointment. Whatever. If she didn’t want to kiss him--and now she wanted to hide in her office all day--that was fine. Just fucking fine. He wasn’t going to try to convince her otherwise.

  Besides, he had a lot of work to do. “I’ll let you get to it then,” was all he said before he left the room.

  Chapter 17

  When Matt went to Emma’s office door a couple hours later, his intention was to let her know he was leaving. But then he saw her lying flat on her back with her arm thrown dramatically over her eyes. “Emma?”

  “Oh,” she said quickly, clearly startled. “Hi…um…” She scrambled up to a sitting position.

  Matt raised his brows. “Everything okay?”

  “Yes, I was just lying here feeling sorry for myself. Thinking about how in the world I’m going to put this thing together,” she admitted with a defeated sigh.

  Concerned, Matt’s gaze followed hers across the scatter of toy trains and railway parts that, along with the miniature signs and pieces of finely crafted scenery, were broken up into minute detail. From what he could see, she’d managed to put together about a tenth of what she needed to--and not very well.

  Feeling sympathetic, he walked closer to her and took a seat beside her. “Want my help?”

  She hesitated for a moment and just as Matt was sure she was going to start with her whole “No, I couldn’t ask that of you” routine, she surprised him by saying, “Really? Yes! Please! Thank you so much, Matt!” And buried her face in her hands with relief as if she’d just been pulled from a tar pit.

  With a light chuckle, Matt put his arm around her shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay,” he assured her, giving her a supportive pat. “We’ll get this.”

  As she slid her eyes to his, he dropped his arm away and picked up some train parts instead.

  “It’s just…I know how much the boys will love it,” she explained, as Matt surveyed all the p
ieces and started making connections. “I’m sure this will be their favorite gift this year. And I really want them to have it before next week. Oh, here are the instructions,” Emma added, handing Matt the fat book that was on the floor beside her. “Be aware that they’re really confusing--and I say that in my professional opinion--but I’m sure you’ll understand them better than me.”

  Ignoring the book, Matt continued what he was doing--looking for parts that went together and figuring out exactly how they connected. While he was working, he asked conversationally, “So how come before next week? Isn’t it a Christmas gift?”

  “Yes. But soon they’re going to their grandparents’ house for a week, and I just wanted them to have something really fun to play with before they go. Also, I figured they could take a couple of these trains with them on the trip.”

  “Their grandparents don’t have toys for them?”

  “They do, but not many. And their house is sort of…restrictive. My mother-in-law--well, I guess she’s my former mother-in-law, I’m not sure what to call her, but--Dina loves Jake and Ben like crazy, don’t get me wrong. But she can be kind of rigid about her furniture and her antiques. I just want the boys to have as much fun as possible,” Emma finished.

  “How long are they going for?”

  “A week,” she said with an unmistakably sad sigh. “Connor’s parents usually go to Florida for the holidays, so Jake and Ben visit with them in Ithaca either before or after. Anyway… enough about that,” Emma said quickly, obviously wanting to change the subject. “What about you? What do you do for the holidays?”

  Matt shrugged as he connected a meticulously sculpted overpass to a stretch of metal track. “Spend it with my parents. On Christmas Eve, Tragan’s mom usually puts out a big spread--tons of Portuguese food-- so I usually hit that up, too.”

  “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Emma asked.

  Matt hesitated for a second before he said no.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to read the instructions?”

  “No, I think I can figure this out,” he said simply.

  Maybe Emma would think it was strange that he wasn’t bothering with the manual. From experience, though, Matt knew that the font in the instruction book would probably be tiny and reading through it would take more time and concentration than he wanted to bother with, and possibly give him a headache. Besides, he was usually good at mechanical stuff and was figuring he’d understand intuitively what to do once he got his hands on the parts.