by Cat Carmine
“I had a good time,” he says. His voice is low, deep. Sensual, somehow.
“Me, too.” Okay, a little of the embarrassment is back. Not enough to keep me from saying what I say next, though. “Do you want to go back to your place?”
Tyler grins. Instead of answering, he leans in and kisses me. It’s not the light, sexy kisses we shared during dinner, or the ferocious way he’d kissed me after. It’s polite. A peck, really. He catches me right on the side of my lips, then pulls away.
“I’ll call you.”
I squint at him. “Okay…”
He grins. “I will. I promise.”
I try not to let my disappointment show. At first I think he must be joking — how can he not want to fall into bed after what just happened? — but when he hails me a cab and eases me into the backseat, I realize he’s totally not kidding.
As the cab pulls away, I look out the back window. Tyler stands there, watching me go. He lifts his hand once, in a wave, but I ignore him and turn to stare at the back of the seat in front of me.
What the fuck just happened?
Thirteen
“Should I take your complete silence as a sign of your tacit approval?”
Keagan dumps an armload of file folders on my desk. The noise of it shocks me out of my thoughts, and I blink up at him.
“Sorry, what?”
He laughs. “I asked you, about four times, actually, if you were done with the draft of the annual report.”
“Oh.” I stare dumbly down at the draft report in front of me. I’ve started going through it about ten times so far today, but my brain has checked out.
Actually, it’s been checked out since Friday. Since I saw Emma. Since I took her to Darkly. Since I kissed her and teased her and felt her pussy clamping down on my fingers as I fucked her. How is a man supposed to concentrate on something as dull as an annual report with those kind of memories running through his mind?
“I haven’t finished with it, no. Remind me when it needs to be done?”
“Mr. Grant — er, your father — needs reports from all the Good Grant subsidiaries in the next three weeks. Before the annual meeting slash gala thing.”
Right. The annual meeting slash gala thing. An event I’ve managed to get out of attending five years running. I guess I won’t be able to avoid it this year.
“Okay. Just give me another day with it. I promise I’ll go through it by the end of today.”
“Hey,” Keagan says, throwing his hands up in the air. “You’re the boss. And it’s your father that you’ll have to face down if it’s late. Take all the time you need.”
“No, no. Today is fine. I’m starting right now. Look.” I make a show of finally opening the report, but when I try to concentrate on the words printed inside, my eyes blur. All I can see is Emma’s face.
God damn, I have to get that woman out of my mind.
I’d put her in a cab after we finished dinner, which I knew as soon as I’d done it was a mistake. I had only wanted to tease her a little, to make her realize that she was the one who wanted to be wild. I just wanted to torture her a little so she’d admit how much she wanted it.
But sending her away was as much torture for me as it was for her. Probably more so. Ever since this weekend, I’ve had the world’s worst case of blue balls. Even a few extended sessions of … self-therapy … haven’t helped. And that pair of Emma’s panties that I’d stuffed in my jacket pocket were a painful reminder that I could have had the real thing, if I hadn’t been so bent on proving on my point.
Which is why, instead of reviewing the annual report as I’m supposed to, I’m plotting out when I can see her again.
Of course, that’s assuming she still wants to talk to me. I admit, I hadn’t quite thought through how she’d feel about me putting her in a cab, but the look she’d shot me from that rear window had gutted me a bit. I knew she was pissed, and in retrospect, I guess she’s right to be.
I scrub my hands over my face, blink a few times, and try again to read the words on the pages of the report in front of me. And once again they dissolve, leaving only Emma’s pink lips, her dark hair, her amazing body.
This is fucking hopeless. I’m not going to get anywhere until I know I can see Emma again.
I flip open my calendar and scan the week ahead. I have obligations every night, it seems — and all shit I can’t get out of. Dinner with my mother. A networking event that’s non-negotiable. The monthly dinner at the Kinsmen Country Club, where my family and I are members.
That’s the one my eyes zero in on. I normally bring a date to those events. Usually some vapid piece of arm candy that I never plan to see again, just to shock the old coots that hang out there. Emma, on the other hand, would fit right in at the Kinsmen. Despite my insistence that she’s secretly a bad girl at heart — which, by the way, I still believe she totally is — her Miss Emma side would go over well at the Kinsmen. They’re all about tradition and manners and appearances there. A bit stuffy for my tastes, but I keep going to keep my father happy.
I dial Emma’s number from my office phone instead of my cell, in case she’s actually pissed enough to not take my call. It rings a couple of times, and then her voice comes on the other line.
“Hello?”
Fuck. With that one word, her sweet smooth voice is enough to bring about a flare-up of my blue balls.
“I told you I’d call.”
There’s a silence on the other end.
“Tyler,” she finally says. “I didn’t recognize the number.”
One point for me for using the office phone.
“I’m at work,” I explain.
“So am I.” She sounds curt. Not good.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” I say, to try to smooth things over.
There’s another beat of silence. Then...
“Oh?”
Her voice is hesitant but she’s definitely intrigued. I grin.
“Oh yeah. In my bedroom. In the shower. A couple of memorable times in my office with the door closed…”
“Tyler!” she admonishes, but I can hear the laughter in her voice.
“I’m just being honest.”
“That’s a little too honest for ten o’clock in the morning on a Monday.”
“Then how about this — I need to see you again. What do you say?”
“I’d say you had plenty of opportunity to see me the other day. You turned it down. I don’t exactly make a habit of throwing myself at guys, you know.”
“Really?” I tease. “So it’s not common for you to show up at someone’s house drunk and begging for sex?”
I can almost hear her blushing on the other end of the line.
“No. It’s not common.”
“Well, I’m honored, then.”
She laughs softly. My ribs seem to tighten at the sound. I clear my throat. “I thought I could take you somewhere that’s more Miss-Emma-appropriate this time around. What do you think?”
“Oh? And what would that be?”
“This country club I belong to. The Kinsmen Club. Ever hear of it? It’s out in Westchester County. They’re having a dinner this week that I have to go to, and the pleasure of your company would make the whole thing a lot more bearable.”
“So what you’re saying is I’d be doing you a favor?” I can hear the smile in her voice. I grin in response.
“You’d definitely be doing me a favor. In fact, I’d owe you. Big time.”
“Well…” I picture her biting her lip as she thinks. “I guess that would be okay. If I’m doing it as a favor.”
“Phew. Thanks, Emma.”
We talk a little bit longer, and I arrange to pick her up at her Brooklyn apartment on Thursday night. By the time I reluctantly hang up, she actually sounds excited, and I’m fucking elated.
I stare down at the report in front of me and try to dive in, now that I’ve squared things away with Emma. Except the words still blur. All I can think about is how many hours
until I get to see Emma again.
Fourteen
By Thursday night, I’m sweating bullets. I’ve changed my outfit six times, even though Lucy swears each one looks fine. I don’t want to look fine. I want to look amazing.
I’ve done all the usual stuff — my nails are done and my hair is blown out and all my nooks and crannies are waxed and trimmed. Nothing is out of place … except my own mind.
My thoughts are all over the place. I’m excited to be going to the country club, and nervous about messing up in such a fancy establishment. But most of all, I’m excited to see Tyler again —and nervous about what that means. I never thought, that first night I met him at Veneer, that he’d be anything more than a very brief way to let off a bit of a steam on a night that I was crazy with stress. Now I’ve seen him a few times, and every time is more intense than the last. Instead of helping me let off steam, he seems to be bringing more of it into my life.
But surely, dinner at the country club will be fine, right? I mean, those places are usually pretty stuffy, I think. At least that’s how they’ve always seemed. So it won’t be like the other night when we went to Darkly. This will just be a normal dinner. I’m sure of it.
Almost. When it comes to Tyler, I’m never a hundred percent sure of anything.
I finally run out of time to change outfits again and end up in a black wrap dress that highlights my waist and, more importantly, my chest. Not in a trashy way, of course. I don’t think I even own anything that could be described as trashy. But I think Tyler will like it.
He arrives at exactly seven, just as he said he would. I meet him out on the street and glow as his eyes travel appreciatively over me.
“You look beautiful.” There’s nothing cocky in his tone this time, just something that sounds like true admiration. I bite back a smile and feel glad that I went to the trouble of getting my hair done. People like it when you go the extra mile for them.
Tyler holds the door of his car open for me, I climb in, and a few minutes later we’re driving out of Brooklyn on the way to Westchester. We chat as we go, and I’m surprised to find that talking to Tyler is actually … easy.
I even start to relax. Just a little. And then we pull up in front of The Kinsmen Club.
I’m not sure what I was expecting from a country club, but this place is a hundred times that. More. The main building looks like a slightly smaller version of the White House, and I can see the massive grounds sprawling out behind it.
A white-capped valet approaches the car as soon as we come to a stop, and then Tyler and I are making our way into the building. I swivel my head around, trying to take everything in.
“This place is …” I’m going to say astounding or impressive or incredible, but Tyler groans.
“I know, I know. But my father’s been a member for years, and it was important to him that Lacy and I keep up the tradition.”
“Lacy…” I start. “Is that your sister?”
He nods.
“Is she in the family business, too?”
He grins ruefully. “She was … but that’s too long of a story for right now.”
“Got it.” My curiosity is piqued, but I don’t push him.
We enter the main building of the club, and Tyler leads me into a lavish dining room. This area is much closer to what I expected from a country club — dark wood furniture, tables covered in expensive white linens, rich, toupee-ed men peeling tiny shrimp with fat fingers.
Tyler leads me through the space but abruptly pivots, waving to someone.
“Wes,” he calls out. I freeze. Wes? As in, my sister Rori’s Wes? “I didn’t realize you guys would be here tonight. I thought you had a conflict.”
“Managed to get it cleared up.” Yup, that’s definitely Wes. I peek around Tyler’s shoulder. Shit. And Rori’s here, too.
“Why don’t you join us?” Wes is saying. I poke Tyler in the back, trying to tell him to say no, but he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t know how to read my oh-so-subtle cues.
“Sure,” he says. He slings his arm around my waist, pulling me forward. “Okay with you?”
Well, a little too late for that, I think.
“Of course,” I smile instead. “Hi Wes.”
“Emma!” Wes looks surprised. “Hey! What are you doing here?”
“Emma’s my date.”
“I’m doing him a favor,” I interject quickly.
Tyler frowns at me, but Wes nods. “Great. Rori will be glad to have someone to talk to that isn’t me.” He chuckles, then turns to face my sister. “Hey, Roar, look who’s here.”
I squirm as Rori looks up. Her brow wrinkles, but her lips twitch up into a grin as she looks from me to Tyler and back to me again.
“Emma! This is a very fun surprise.”
I stare at her, trying to tell her with my eyes to be cool, but she’s grinning in that devilish sort of way that only sisters can manage.
Wes ushers Tyler and I over to their table, and I take a seat between Rori and Tyler. Rori shoots me another look, this time more questioning, and I shrug lightly. I foresee a trip to the ladies’ room in our very near future.
Sure enough, as soon as we have a bottle of wine for the table, Rori stands and announces that she’s got to go. She looks pointedly at me, but I stare down at my glass.
“Emma, don’t you have to go to the bathroom, too?”
“Not really, no.”
But there’s no getting off that easy. Rori grabs my arm. “Then at least come to keep me company.”
Wes and Tyler are staring at us, and at this point it would be more embarrassing to keep putting her off, so I stand up and straighten my skirt.
“Fine. Excuse us.”
Rori practically drags me all the way to the bathroom — which, by the way, happens to be the most opulent bathroom I’ve ever been in. The floors, the vanities, everything is in a pale marble, and there are actual chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Yes, as in multiple chandeliers. In a bathroom. There aren’t stalls, but actual separate small rooms so that you can do your thing in privacy.
Unfortunately, Rori doesn’t go into any of them. Instead, she spins to face me.
“What are you doing?” she hisses.
“I thought I was keeping you company while you use the bathroom. Which, I have to say, is pretty weird.” I turn to the mirror and pretend to straighten my hair, but thankfully my blowout is holding strong.
“I mean with Tyler.” Rori has her hands on her hips as she faces me in the mirror, but she’s also got one of those cat-with-the-canary grins.
“Nothing. We’re friends, and he asked me to do him a favor by coming here with him tonight.”
“A favor.” Rori sounds skeptical. “You do remember that I once did Wes a favor by coming out here with him, right? And look how that ended.”
Shit. I completely forgot about that. When Wes and Rori were first getting together, she’d come out to a dinner here with him, ostensibly as a friend. That was back when they were both still lying about their feelings for each other.
I swallow, then run the tap and slowly wash my hands. The water helps me think. Normally, I’d have no issue telling my sister about someone I’m dating, but that’s because no one I’ve ever dated has been like Tyler.
And maybe even more than that is the fact that I’m not myself when I’m with him. I barely recognize the Emma I am when I’m with him. And Rori, of all people, will be the first one to notice that. I’m not ready for her to see that side of me. Not until I figure out who that Emma is, and if she’s really me at all.
“We’re just friends,” I insist. “We met at the book launch, and he’s been giving me advice about the publishing industry.”
Rori snorts. “Emma, you probably know more about the publishing industry than he does. Does he even like that job?”
I shrug. It’s never occurred to me to ask him.
“Well, I’m not judging you,” Rori adds, her face softening. “You can be friends or whate
ver else you want with him. He’s a great guy. He might even be good for you. Shake things up a little.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean it would be good for you to have some fun. Date a guy that’s not husband material, you know? Where you can just relax and not analyze his investment portfolio and his family’s orthodontic history from day one.”
“Right.” I swallow.
“Cause you kind of have a tendency to do that, you know,” my sister so helpfully points out.
“Yeah, I guess I do.” I try to smile. I dry my hands on one of the plush, white towels that are neatly rolled into a basket on the marble vanity. I can’t deny that Rori’s right about that. And maybe she’s right about Tyler, too. After all, I barely know him, and even I can tell he’s not husband material. He’s a playboy, and I’m just his flavor of the week. It doesn’t matter if the Emma I am when I’m with him is real or not — because none of it’s real to him.
“They’re probably wondering where we are,” I intone. “We should get back.”
Rori frowns. “Are you okay?”
“Totally.” I plaster a smile on my face — something I’m quite adept at. “Let’s go.”
Fifteen
Well, I was right. Having Emma with me makes dinner at the Kinsmen a whole lot more bearable. Running into Wes and Rori had been good fortune, too. It’s always nice to see them, and now that I’m working full time again, I don’t get to see Wes as often as I’d like. We’ve been tight since college, and his is one of the few friendships I’ve maintained through the years.
Emma, though, seems strangely quiet over dinner. She smiles a lot and laughs politely, but there’s something strained about it. I catch her sister shooting her a couple of cautious glances, and I get the sudden worry that maybe Rori gave her some kind of warning about me. Maybe she doesn’t think I’m good enough for Emma.
I mean, I can’t say I disagree. I’m not good enough for Emma. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to try.
Wes and Rori end up having to bail early, and Emma seems to relax slightly when they leave. I’m not ready to call it a night yet, so I ask her if she wants to stay for another drink. To my surprise — and pleasure — she agrees.
