by Michele Hauf
“I hear it will go two hundred and twenty miles on one charge,” he said casually.
“I know all about the specs. I was in charge of making sure Alex Megalos got his the first possible second.”
“Nice company car,” Damien said in a tone brimming with disapproval.
“The company didn’t pay for the car,” she quickly told him. “He paid for it out of his own money. Which leads me back to my original point. I didn’t buy a raffle ticket, so how could I have won it?”
“Apparently someone entered for you,” he said. “Someone wanted you to have the car.”
She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not comfortable with this at all.”
“Many people aren’t comfortable with change,” he said.
She glanced at him again, wondering if he was talking about the changes that would be taking place within MD. Or other possible personal changes. Her gaze dipped involuntarily to his mouth and she felt an unbidden rush of warmth. She forced her gaze away, but was still aware of him, the scent of his cologne, the closeness of his body. His hip was mere inches from hers. She glimpsed his long legs in her peripheral vision. His hand rested on the leather seat just above her shoulder.
He confused her. If he was trying to buy her loyalty or something else, wouldn’t he have taken credit for entering her in the lottery and held it over her head?
She turned toward him, looking up into his face. “If some mystery person had bought a lottery ticket on your behalf and you’d won, what would you do?”
“I don’t have personal experience. No one has ever bought a lottery ticket on my behalf,” he said in a dry tone. “I’ve had offers for free headstone markers—”
“You haven’t received death threats?” she asked, feeling a chill.
“Too many to count, but that wasn’t your original question. If I won a car and liked it, I would keep it. If I’d won this car and didn’t want it, I would sell it because the demand for the car is so high.”
“Sell it,” she echoed. “That sounds almost mercenary considering I got it because of a charity drive.”
“If you sell it, you could buy yourself a new car and put the rest of the cash in the bank.”
The idea tempted her. “If I bought a good used car…”
“I didn’t suggest you go that far,” he said. “If you insist on selling it, the least you can do is get yourself new, reliable transportation.”
She threw him a sideways glance. “Considering you didn’t enter the lottery for me, you seem to have a strong opinion.”
“You asked my opinion.”
True, she thought.
“Do you like the car?”
“I haven’t even driven it yet. I was told it could be delivered as soon as Monday. I don’t even know how to drive the thing.”
“I’m sure the person who delivers it will be glad to show you.” He paused a moment. “You could wait to make your decision after you’ve taken the car for a ride. It’s often wise not to judge before you’ve had a chance to evaluate the car for yourself.”
His gaze held hers and she couldn’t help comparing him to a fast, dangerous sports car. What kind of ride would he give? Emma should have been horrified by the direction of her thoughts, but when he lowered his fingers to brush back a strand of her hair, all she could do was stare.
He lowered his head and she held her breath. Was he going to kiss her? She should turn away, push him away, but she couldn’t move.
“It’s your call, Emma. No one is going to force you. You can give the keys back before, or you can take a ride and decide for yourself.”
His voice was low and intimate, the same way he would talk to a lover. She felt an ache start in her breasts and slide lower into her nether regions. She couldn’t remember feeling this aroused by a man, and he’d barely touched her. What if he’d kissed her? Would she be able to resist him? Would she want to?
The limo pulled to a stop, distracting her. Glancing out the window, she saw that they had arrived at her apartment’s parking lot. She cleared her throat and decided to say goodbye here before he made her have another sensual meltdown. “Well, thank you for your generous contribution to charity this evening.”
“I’ll walk you inside,” he said and gave the chauffeur a quick nod. The chauffeur opened the door. Damien got out and extended his hand to help her.
“It’s really not necessary,” she said.
“I insist,” he said, and she knew it was useless to argue.
She released his hand as quickly as possible, but the sidewalk was too small. With each step, her bare shoulder brushed against his arm. Determined to escape him as soon as possible, she pushed her key into the door lock and turned it, glancing over her shoulder. “Again, thank you for—”
The door whisked open, taking her off guard. Her mother stepped into view. “Surprise! I found a deal on a flight and took an extra day off. I’ve been missing my baby girl.”
“Mother,” she said, surprised, noting that her mother had changed her hair color again. Violet-red this time. “How did you—”
“I have to go back on the red-eye on Monday night, but it was worth it. It’s been too long,” her mother said, then glanced past Emma to Damien. Her blue eyes rounded. “Oh, my, I’ve interrupted a date. You actually went on a date.” She craned her neck to get a better look. “Is that a limo? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Emma felt a rush of embarrassment. “This wasn’t a date. It was a charity gala. This is my boss, Damien Medici.”
Her mother’s eyebrows sprang upward and she pursed her lips into an O.
Damien extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms.?”
Her mother glanced at Emma. “What nice manners. My name is Kay Nelson. And it’s my pleasure to meet you. I don’t usually get to meet Emma’s coworkers, so this is a treat.”
“He’s not a coworker,” Emma quickly said. “He’s my boss.”
“Oh,” Kay said. “Well, would you like to come inside? I brought Emma a bottle of wine and baked her favorite cookies as part of her surprise.”
Emma stared at her mother in dismay. “Oh, no, I’m sure Mr. Medici is too—”
“I’d love to,” he said, and Emma swallowed an oath.
Damien wouldn’t dare give up this golden opportunity to get a different view of Emma outside work. Her mother was a charming, but fidgety, little magpie. She seemed unable to sit for more than a few minutes before jumping up for one reason or another. “Would you like more wine, Damien?” she asked.
He held up his hand at her offer of the pink beverage. He’d managed to swallow a few sips for the sake of being sociable, but he preferred dry red wine to white and never, ever pink.
“I’m sure you can imagine how proud I am of Emma. She’s always been a good girl. Much more conservative than I am, and look at her now. Working at Megalos-De Luca. Do you know she has worked for two vice presidents?”
“Yes, Mother, he knows,” Emma said.
“Well you can’t blame me for bragging about you. That gown is just beautiful. You’ve done something different with your hair, too, haven’t you?”
“Mother,” Emma said. “I think Mr. Medici needs to leave.”
“There’s no need to rush,” her mother protested. “Do you need to leave, Damien? If you’re worried about running up the bill with the limo sitting out there, I’m sure Emma would be happy to drive you home.”
Emma’s mouth dropped open in protest.
“I’m in no rush,” Damien said, leaning back in his chair, ignoring Emma’s hostile glare. “Tell me more about Emma as a child.”
“She was so thrifty. I swear that girl could make a penny squeal.” Kay sighed. “But you know we didn’t always have it easy, so that was a good thing. I nicknamed her Goddess Hestia. Can you guess why?”
“That’s the goddess of hearth and home, right?”
“Yes,” Kay said. “We moved a lot and Emma was quick to make anywhere we lived into a home.
What a life. Remember the pony I got for you that Christmas?”
Emma nodded with a soft smile. “Peanut.”
“She loved that pony. Unfortunately we ran into a little difficulty and could only keep him for a year.”
Emma’s smile turned strained. “That was one of the good years,” she said.
“She always loved animals. What was the name of the last dog we had?”
“Sheba, a golden retriever. We had to give her away because we moved to a place that didn’t allow pets.”
“I’m surprised you don’t have a pet now that you’re on your own,” Damien said.
“I’m gone too much. It wouldn’t be fair.”
“Always practical,” Kay said, lifting her hands. “Too busy to date in high school. Too busy to do much dating at all. I’m happy you went out tonight.”
“It wasn’t a date, Mom,” Emma said, standing as if she couldn’t bear the conversation one minute longer. “Thank you again, Damien.”
He rose to his feet. “My pleasure,” he said. “Perhaps your mother can help you shop for your upcoming trip.”
“Trip,” Kay said, immediately perking up. “What trip?”
“I’m going on a business trip to South Beach to evaluate one of the resorts down there. I’ll be buying a few new things because I’ll be posing as a resort guest.”
“I’ve told her to put it on my account,” Damien said.
“Oh, my, how generous. South Beach is so romantic. I went there once with my third husband.” She frowned. “Or was it my fourth?”
“Your third,” Emma said in a low voice and moved swiftly to the front door. “Oh, my goodness, look at the time. We didn’t mean to keep you so long, Damien.”
“Oh,” Kay said, jumping from her perch on the sofa. “I should leave so the two of you can say good-night privately.”
Emma’s eyes rounded in horror. “No.” She barely got out the word before her mother disappeared into a back room. “I apologize for my mother. She means well.”
“I found her charming,” he said. “And I wouldn’t want to disappoint her by not saying good-night to you privately,” he added, stepping so close to her it was all he could do not to take her into his arms, all he could do not to take her mouth so she wouldn’t be able to deny the heat between them any longer.
Damien knew, however, that Emma would have to come to him. It would take every ounce of his self-control, but it was necessary. He lowered his head, closer and closer. Her eyes fluttered and he heard the soft intake of her breath. He moved his mouth so close he could feel her breath. Her body hummed with expectation. Her eyes fluttered again.
It would be all too easy to pull her against his chest, to kiss her every objection away. He wanted to strip her of her reserve and poise until she was begging for him. To fill his hands with her breasts and explore all her secrets. He would tease her until she called out his name again and again. Then he would them both the satisfaction they craved.
Hard with desire, he fought against temptation.
“Good night, Goddess Hestia,” he said. Then he walked away.
It took a full moment of the cool night air drifting over her skin where Damien had been radiating heat just seconds earlier before she realized he’d left. And he hadn’t kissed her. Her body screamed in protest. Her nipples were taut buds straining against her dress and she was filled with wanting.
Chagrined by her response, she forced herself into her apartment with one last glance at the taillights of the limo as it left her parking lot. She felt like an idiot. She’d practically melted into the doorjamb.
She should be relieved that he hadn’t kissed her. It would have been completely unprofessional. Instead, she was peeved. How could he get so close to her, nearly rubbing his body against hers, close enough to give her the kind of kiss that sent rockets around the world, and not touch her?
A strangled groan escaped from her throat just as her mother entered the room. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. Did you have a romantic evening planned with Damien? I hope I didn’t interrupt.”
Emma couldn’t quite swallow another groan. “He’s my boss, Mother. Nothing more.”
Her mother shook her head. “He is gorgeous and he clearly thinks a lot of you. There’s no reason you shouldn’t enjoy yourself with him. Trust me, you don’t meet men like him every day.”
“I’m aware of that, but—”
“I mean I can see why you might find his facial scar frightening. It does look a little savage and—”
“He was defending his foster mother when he got that scar.”
Her mother lifted her eyebrows. “Oh. It sounds like the two of you have gotten to know each other quite well considering he’s just your boss.”
Emma sighed. “Can we please talk about something else? Like when did you decide to visit me?”
“I know I’m imposing, but I’ve missed you.”
“You’re not imposing,” Emma said, putting her arms around her mother and giving her a hug. “You know I’m always happy to see you. But I do like a little notice so I can meet you at the airport.”
“To make sure I don’t stop at the slot machines,” her mother said. “Don’t worry. I resisted temptation.”
“I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you, baby. I wish I could be closer to you. Missouri is so slow compared to Vegas.”
“Peaceful,” Emma corrected. “Remember, when you first moved there, you said it was peaceful. How’s Aunt Julia?”
“She’s doing fine. She loves her grandbabies. I would love to have some of my own,” her mother hinted.
“Not for a long time,” Emma muttered. “I’m really tired. I’ll fix you banana pancakes in the morning. Would you like that?”
“You’re so good to me,” her mother said. “You’ve been making banana pancakes for me since that Mother’s Day when you were eleven years old.”
“Eight,” Emma said, smiling at the memory. “But who’s counting?”
“After breakfast, we can go shopping,” her mother said. “I can’t wait. Sweetie, this time you don’t even need to look for sales since it’s not your money.”
The next morning, after Emma made banana pancakes with real maple syrup for her mother, the two of them went shopping.
“We can go to the Versace store,” her mother said.
“Hmm,” Emma said.
“Louis Vuitton,” her mother continued, rapturous. “Roberto Cavalli.”
Or not, she thought as she pulled into an outlet mall.
“Darling,” her mother said. “Why are we going to an outlet mall when you could shop at any designer store in Vegas?”
“Because I’m not using Damien Medici’s money,” Emma said, delighted to find a parking space close to an entrance.
“But he offered. I’ll bet he even insisted. Why do you deprive yourself this way?” her mother asked.
Emma didn’t want to remind her mother of all the times they’d overspent only to have to return the luxury items they’d purchased. She didn’t want to tell her mother that she still lived in fear that her mother would gamble again, fall into debt, leaving Emma to cover the losses.
“This is like a hunting expedition,” she told her mother. “You and I are looking for several prize animals.” Emma watched her mother, seeing something click in her gaze.
“You like the challenge of bagging the big one on your own terms. I’m in,” her mother said, and got outside the car, her tennis-shoe-clad feet ready to pound hard, unforgiving floors for the prizes that awaited them.
8
Thank goodness Damien was out of the office during most of Monday and Tuesday. He sent a town car to collect her on Wednesday morning. The driver opened the car door for her to slide onto a luxurious leather seat while he loaded her luggage into the trunk.
Emma’s heart pounded, but she told herself to be calm. Damien had proven that he wouldn’t force himself on her. If he could control himself, then she should be able to control herself.<
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She hoped she had the right clothes. Her mother had insisted on several purchases that Emma wouldn’t normally have chosen. Emma had agreed to them only because her mother had visited South Beach and she hadn’t.
Currently dressed in designer jeans, a silk tank top and crocheted sweater to keep her warm during the flight, she bit her lip, trying not to feel insecure. She pumped her foot, idly noticing her wedge-heel sandals and pearl and sterling silver anklet. She hoped she looked touristy enough.
Damien was probably accustomed to being surrounded by women who dropped thousands of dollars on revealing clothes without batting an eye. Emma couldn’t imagine ever being that kind of woman. Instead of going to the main terminal, the driver took an alternate route. She glanced at her watch, worried that he may put her behind schedule.
“Excuse me,” she said. “Don’t we need to go to the main terminal?”
The driver shook his head. “No, Ma’am. Different terminal. You’re flying on a private jet.”
“Oh,” she said, leaning back in her seat. Soon enough, he pulled in front of another terminal and unloaded her luggage. Her walk through security was effortless and quick. Afterward, she followed an attendant to a corporate jet and boarded.
“We’ll be leaving very soon,” the attendant told her. “What can I get you to drink? Juice, water?”
“Water would be fine,” she said, glancing past the woman and spotting Damien. She felt a kick in her stomach.
He glanced up from his paperwork and shoved it aside. He stood. “Prompt as ever,” he said with a slight smile.
She walked toward him, feeling an odd sense of relief at his presence. “I forgot we weren’t going to the main terminal.”
“I fly commercially sometimes, but more for trips to Europe, Asia or Australia. This is one of my indulgences,” he confessed. “I like traveling on my own timetable. I can get more work done in a more comfortable environment.” He smiled in a conspiratorial way. “See. I don’t have to chew glass to be happy.”