He handed a small votive to her with a white candle inside and struck a match. The flare released a brief wave of sulfuric fumes and lit up his face, making his already angular and strong jaw look even more severe in the half darkness. His hand cupped hers as he lit the candle, the warmth of his skin seeping into her own freezing skin.
She couldn’t look away from his face. There was so much tenderness beneath his solemn facade. It moved her to see him react that way. As if he really cared about her. He looked up into her eyes at that moment and his fingers trailed down her arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
For one thrilling moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. Her gaze moved to his mouth, wondering what it would be like. She imagined he was the kind of guy who didn’t hold back. Someone who threw his whole heart and being into such an intimate act. The train of thought was making her knees shake. She took a step back and Michael’s hand dropped to his side.
“Can you direct me to the nearest bathroom?” she asked, her voice quivering slightly. “And maybe a robe I can borrow? I’m soaked to the bone.”
“My parents’ master bath is just down that way.” He pointed toward a dark doorway, his eyes glistening in the candlelight. “My mother has a robe in her closet for spa days. She would be happy to let you borrow it.”
Emily nodded and then stumbled off into the darkness, ready to put some distance between herself and Michael Knight. She wasn’t sure why her head was acting all silly. She hardly knew the guy and she certainly wasn’t going to kiss him. It was a promise she’d made to Lydia when they made this crazy agreement.
But Michael had an uncanny way of sucking her in. Making her feel like the only woman in the world. He’d had his heart set on spoiling her tonight that much was clear. It had been a long time since anyone had wanted to spoil her. She was letting her heart get too ahead of itself.
Time to rein it back in.
She crept down the darkened hall, feeling like an intruder in a stranger’s home. Artwork hung from the walls, made eerie by the dark and the flicker of the candle in her hands. She pushed through the last door and the candlelight revealed a large California king-sized bed and several plush sitting chairs.
Emily found his mother’s closet just next to the bathroom. It was a magnificent thing to behold, even draped in darkness. Shelves upon shelves of every kind of shoe imaginable took up the opposite wall. A drawer system and a vanity had been stationed next to it. Designer clothes hung from wall-to-wall rods in the rest of the room
She couldn’t help running her hand over the delicate fabrics, appreciating all this luxury in one place. The closet was bigger than her bedroom at her mother’s house. Any one of these outfits probably cost more than she spent on rent for the business each month. It was mind-boggling to know that there were people in the world with that much money to spare.
Of course, her mother had always reminded her, beneath the glitz and glamour, wealthy people were just as miserable as the rest of us. It was important never to feel like she was beneath them.
Her curious fingers landed on a plush, white fabric. She pulled it out, revealing the robe that Michael had mentioned. It was softer than her comforter at home and just as warm. Stripping off her wet outer clothes, she wrapped the robe around her body and reveled in its comfort. She wanted to be buried in that robe.
Her candle flickered dangerously, reminding her that she was in a stranger’s home, alone in the dark. She swept up her wet clothes and hurried for the hall, her bare feet padding down the exquisite oak floors. A photo frame caught her eye and she paused, only for a moment.
It was a picture of a young family. A man and woman, each proudly standing behind a boy and girl. The girl had long dark hair and chubby, baby cheeks. The boy definitely looked familiar. Emily could see hints of Michael in his childhood photo — the dark eyes, the angle of his jaw, and the stiff posture.
It was a sweet picture, but it brought a pang of regret to her chest. Emily didn’t have the stereotypical family photos growing up. All she had was her mom. And now, she was gone, too. It hurt too much to think about.
“Emily? Come join me in the parlor when you’re done.”
Michael’s voice drifted down the hallway toward her. She jumped at the sudden noise, her candle sputtering dangerously from the movement. Shuffling toward the sound, she found an open door through which golden candlelight spilled. Peering around the door frame, she spotted Michael lounging on a settee, his arm draped over the back.
He’d changed into jeans and a casual gray t-shirt that stretched tight over his buff chest. Two dozen candles burned on the coffee table in front of him. Emily gulped at the romantic sight, reminding her heart not to get caught up in the setting.
“There you are.” He gazed up at her, his dark eyes trailing from her face and down her body to her bare feet.
She blushed and pulled the robe tighter, hoping she looked decent enough. “Your mom’s closet is epic. I almost got lost in there.”
With a chuckle, he wiped a hand through his wet hair. “Yeah, she calls it her happy place.” He patted a hand on the cushion beside him. “Why don’t you have a seat?”
Hesitation kept her glued to the doorway for a long moment as she thought about the dark parlor and the candlelight and the utterly gorgeous man sitting there waiting for her. This was not the date she’d prepared herself for.
“I promise, I won’t bite,” he said, a crooked grin slowly growing on his face. “But I figured we couldn’t go out looking like we’d just taken a dip in the pool. The staff has already gone home for the night. So, I raided my parents wine stash. How does one hundred year old French Grand Cru sound to you?”
❖
Michael tried not to stare at Emily as she sat next to him in the white, fluffy bathrobe. It was taking all his self-control to gaze resolutely at his glass of wine and ignore the sight of the beautiful woman sitting beside him. She’d weathered the storm without complaint, not once mentioning the lavish date that had gone up in flames that evening.
They’d spent the last hour drying on the couch, discussing his last trip to Venice and her most recent beach escapade with Lydia. He liked their easy conversations. There was no pressure, no expectations.
He couldn’t dismiss the fact that there was something different about her. Something that made his heart stutter when she looked up at him through her lashes or laughed at his jokes. It was a dizzying experience, one that he was trying desperately to ignore.
“Your home is amazing,” she said, gazing up at parts of the parlor that hid in half shadow. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It’s my parents’ home,” he said with an appreciative smile. “My home is a high-rise penthouse closer to the office. But I do enjoy coming back here once in a while. Especially when my mother hosts her soirees. They’re great networking events.”
“I also saw a family picture in the hallway. Was that your sister?”
His jaw twitched and he settled back into the settee, once again draping his arm across the couch. “Yes, that’s Rebecca. She’s currently in Paris trying to build her modeling career.”
“I suppose it helps to have such a well-established family,” Emily said, taking a tiny sip of her wine. “Lots of connections in that industry.”
He shook his head. He wasn’t sure how much he should reveal to a woman he barely knew. But the candlelight and the conversation seemed to have loosened his tongue.
“No, Rebecca is determined to go at this alone. Our father treated his family much the same way he does his business — with an iron grip. She moved out the moment she graduated and hasn’t looked back. It’s been years since she’s returned home.”
Emily was silent for a moment. He hazarded a glance at her, wondering if she was immersed in judging his family, as so many often did. She stared at her wine glass and pursed her lips, until she finally looked up and their eyes met.
“I suppose even whole families have their troubles, don’t they?”
A sympathetic smile played on her full lips. “My dad left when I was ten. I often wished he’d come back, even though, looking back, we weren’t happy even when he was around. Still, I had this strange idea that if I had a mom and a dad, then everything would work itself out. That’s certainly not the truth.”
Michael’s breath caught in his lungs. It wasn’t the response he’d been expecting. Most people thought of his baby sister as spoiled and ungrateful. He knew the truth and missed Rebecca with an incredible fierceness. Emily’s acceptance of his family’s faults, along with her own vulnerability hit him hard.
He set his wine on the coffee table and reached for her hand, his fingertips brushing against the inside of her palm. She curled her fingers around his, sending a thrill up his arm and straight to his chest. He needed to be closer to her, to take her all in.
The candlelight on her golden hair made her look like an angel, draped in white. He wanted to run his fingers through those unruly curls. At the same time, the soft curve of her lips had him wondering what they tasted like. If he didn’t get a grip, he was going to cradle her head in his hands and find out just how much Emily Sevenson could truly affect him.
“Families are tough,” he said, his voice husky. Clearing his throat, he turned to stare at the candles. “Just like running a business. At least with work, I feel like I can fix the problems that pop up.”
“Lucky you.” Emily gave him a dry smile and sighed. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this since you are technically my client, but I can’t hold it in. My business is failing. Today, I received an eviction notice at the office. Sevenson Selective was my mother’s baby and I’m watching it slowly die. I can’t seem to stop it.”
Michael watched her close her eyes and take a sip of her wine. Her dark eyelashes splayed on her cheeks. He wanted desperately to be able to fix her problems for her. To tell her that everything would be okay, but he just couldn’t make that promise.
“Have you considered campaigning for your business?” he asked, unable to stop himself. “Going out to meet your potential clients where they’re at?”
She opened her eyes, confusion flickering on her face. “What do you mean? Like knocking on doors and handing out pamphlets?”
“No.” He chuckled and readjusted his seat. “Sevenson Selective is renowned for its ability to match the elite, isn’t it? Go to their galas, the soirees, the parties and bring in the clientele yourself.”
She stared at him as if he were the most brilliant man in the world.
“Hunt out the clientele.” She blinked hard, and then stared down at his chest. “Bring them in myself. Do you really think that could work?”
“You’re an enchanting woman, Emily,” he said, swallowing hard. His fingers itched to stroke the soft curve of her cheek. “You’ll have them eating out of your hands in no time. I know it.”
Her gaze flickered up to his just then. Within it he saw something that made his stomach lurch with need. She leaned forward, her pink lips parting slightly. He wanted to reach out and take her into his arms. All it would take was for him to give into his urges. She could tell what he was thinking. The same need flashed in her own eyes. He only needed to act on it.
With a click, the power came back on, along with the overhead lights. Michael swore under his breath and shielded his eyes. Emily squinted at him, leaning back in her seat. Her cheeks burned red and she tightened the robe across her chest with an anxious flutter of her hands.
“Guess that’s my cue. I should be heading home,” she said nervously. She hopped off the couch and looked around, taking in the corners of the lush parlor that had previously been hidden in the dark. Her eyes went wide with awe. “Well, maybe after a personal tour of this fabulous place.”
Michael grinned and jumped up after her, offering his arm. “I happen to know the perfect tour guide for the occasion. He’s quite handsome, too.”
Emily threw her head back and laughed. Michael felt his heart flutter as she clutched at his arm.
“Lead the way, handsome.”
Chapter Eight
Emily hopped out of her Volkswagen beetle, clasping a purse in one hand and pressing her cell phone to her head with the other. She closed the squeaky door with her hip and stared at the sleek design of the San Jose McEnery Convention Center. If she had been nervous before, it was nothing compared to now.
“I’ve got to do this, Lydia,” she said into her phone, shifting the purse to her other hand. “This tech conference is going to attract some of the richest people in the country. I’m sure a lot of them could use a little help finding love. I’m just going to pass out a few cards and then I’m out of here.”
She could hear Lydia clicking her tongue in dissatisfaction on the other end of the line. “I just don’t favor the idea of you out there pandering. You’re the boss. You should’ve sent me. I’m the lowly secretary.”
“Yeah, well, too late now. I’m already dolled up and ready to go.”
She looked down at the little black dress and heels she’d put on for the occasion. It was an outfit she usually paired with a sensible cardigan for formal events. The last time she’d worn it had been her mother’s funeral. That thought made her throat tighten. She shook off the sad feelings with a toss of her head and resolutely started marching toward the convention center.
“Besides, this was Michael’s idea,” she continued. “I’m not about to throw you to the wolves when I’m not sure if this will even work.”
“Hmm, Michael Knight.” Lydia hummed with excitement. “Two dates in and you’re already taking advice from him. I’d call that a good sign.”
Emily forced out a laugh. “I’d call that a desperate sign. At this point, I’d try anything.”
But that wasn’t really true. Michael had surprised her during their date last weekend. He gave off such a strong and commanding presence, yet there was an underlying sweetness about him that attracted her. A sincerity, as if he really cared for her and her livelihood. Not to mention, he was a businessman himself. He probably knew what he was talking about.
They’d been texting on and off all week, even talked for an hour on the phone one night before bed. Every time her phone pinged, her heart fluttered with anticipation. She felt like a teenager with a crush.
“Well, whatever the reason, good luck darling,” Lydia said. “Bring home the sad, single bacon.”
Emily laughed and stashed her phone in her purse. She had entered the convention center doors where a registration table sat, welcoming new guests. Biting her lower lip, she assessed the situation.
There was no way they were going to let her in for free, especially when they found out why she was there. So she slowly and casually circumvented the room, glancing purposefully at the architecture and glancing at the clock as if she were waiting for a friend. When the registration table was distracted by a newcomer, she slipped past and into the crowd, grinning at her good luck.
It didn’t take her long to join a few conversations and hand out her cards. Small groups made up mostly of men in professional garb were gathered all over the center, discussing the latest tech news and innovations. Emily didn’t understand a word of it, but she nodded along as if she did and laughed when appropriate.
Her stack of cards was dwindling fast when she decided to hit the refreshment table for a bottle of water. That’s when a tap on the shoulder and the deep clearing of a throat made her jump.
They’d caught her.
“Excuse me, Miss,” a man’s tenor voice said behind her.
She turned slowly, the uncapped water in her trembling hand. “Yes?”
“I couldn’t help noticing you from across the room,” the man said, regarding her with a cocky smirk.
He was in his early fifties with a clean-shaven face, salt and pepper hair, and a weak chin. Emily had to take a small step back into the refreshment table, he was standing so close to her. He stood only two inches higher than her, but it was easy to see that his ego made up for any lack in heigh
t.
“You’re not a participant in the conference, are you?” he asked, closing the small distance she’d put between them. “I could tell. You can always tell.”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” she said, swallowing nervously. “I’m here for the tech convention.”
“No, unlike many of my colleagues, I actually know how to read people.” He ran the back of his hand up the side of her arm and smiled seductively. “There are women like you at every conference, looking for a man to treat them right. Let me take you out tonight. I’ve got a dinner reservation at this exclusive joint. We can end the evening with a bottle of Armand de Brignac back at my hotel room.”
A vice squeezed around Emily’s throat. She watched with paralyzing disgust as the man’s hand traveled down to her waist.
“No, thank you,” she eeked out, scooting along the edge of the table. “I really must be going now.”
“No, you really should stay.” His hand wrapped around her wrist in a painful hold that made her eyes water. He moved closer to her until his cold blue eyes were level with her own. “I made you a generous offer. I could’ve chosen anyone, but I chose you. You should at least consider it.”
As fear morphed into anger inside Emily’s head, she scowled at the man standing in front of her. He was exactly the kind of guy she seemed to attract. The kind that thought he owned the world and everyone in it.
“Let go of me,” she hissed through her teeth.
Her tone didn’t seem to faze him. He cocked his head and grinned, victory flashing in his eyes. “Come on, sweetie. I was just paying you a compliment. No need to be rude.”
She wasn’t sure how the idea came into her head, but her free hand moved on its own volition, emptying the open water bottle on the man’s head. He gasped and sputtered, releasing her wrist. A string of low curses poured from his mouth as he wiped his eyes and glared at her.
“You’re going to pay for this,” he growled. With an abrupt turn, he started walking down the hall, no doubt on his way to find security.
The Billionaire and the Matchmaker Page 5