An Unexpected Bride

by Shadonna Richards

  She was locked in his sweet embrace. She didn’t remember when her attire came off, but before long, they were both naked. On the bed. He had pulled out a condom before they undressed. The plush hotel room was dimly lit. The satin covers of the bed encased them as they were enrapt between the sheets. He kissed her gently from her forehead, to her nose to her lips, her neck and her bosoms. She addressed his firm, muscular flesh with the same.

  Gosh, he had rock hard abs. He certainly was buff from head to toe. She shivered with every touch of his body, with every warm, sultry embrace. Excitement increased within her as he eased into her, capturing the moment.

  She tingled from head to toe. Ohmygod! He really knows how to make love, Emma mused with delight. She didn’t remember when the last time she’d done this.

  She’d only had one relationship prior, not something she ever wanted anyone to know about, feeling like such a sheltered wallflower—and that was hardly anything compared to this. In fact, it was nothing compared to this moment. This was love. She was in love with Evan. Everything about him.

  She’d almost wished that this was her first time. It sure felt like it was. Her heartbeat quickened with every breathy movement.

  Suddenly, all the cares of the world melted away with his warmth, his gentleness, his caress. Every concern evaporated.

  She felt so on top of the world.

  So special.

  So loved.

  So cared for.

  They made hot, passionate, scream-out-loud love on the warm, breezy New York City night.

  “God, I love you, Emma. I love you so much. You have no idea.” Evan’s deep voice was throaty, husky, breathless as he continued to make love to her.

  She moaned with pleasure, “Love you, too, baby.”

  There was no doubt about it. They were both in denial about their feelings for each other prior to this. Evan was relieved Emma felt the same way he did.

  All too soon it was early the next morning in Emma’s hotel room. Their flight would leave later that day. Evan rolled over with a wide grin and mellow eyes. He so badly wanted to hug Emma.

  She was gone.

  Where had she gone? Evan was bewildered. His stomach tightened and it had nothing to do with how he usually felt after a good workout of his abs.

  A thought gripped him.

  Did she have a change of heart over last night? Did she have any regrets? He knew that he sure didn’t. He enjoyed every last moment of his passion with Emma. In fact, he’d never felt that way about any of the women he’d ever dated.

  How sad was that?

  He pulled back the soft duvet and sprung up out of bed. Just then, he heard the door open.

  Emma walked in with a take-out bag from the restaurant downstairs and two coffees.

  She froze.

  Emma couldn’t believe Evan stood naked right in front of her. She’d never seen such a full view of his body like this before. She flushed. She felt hot inside.

  He was certainly blessed with a good, strong, hot body. She tried not to gape at his midsection. She almost dropped the drink tray with the two coffees.

  “Here, let me take that,” he offered as he walked close to her. She felt giddy. Okay, she’d always dreamed of seeing him naked, imagined what he’d be like. Now she knew. Full well. She chuckled sheepishly.

  “Thanks, I thought I’d grab us something to eat. You know, room service is so crazy expensive.”

  A puzzled expression made its way on his face then vanished quickly. “Hey, you know I’ve got it covered.” He grinned.

  She hoped he didn’t take it the wrong way.

  The truth was, she really needed to get some air. Clear her mind. Rejuvenate her thoughts. She’d just had the best time of her life—as far as she could remember off the top of her head. So why did something feel off—so wrong?

  A good, brisk early morning walk in the heart of New York seemed like the fitting thing to do.

  She took in the sights of the city, the sound of traffic moving, honking of horns, witnessed business people scurrying to work, tourists getting an early start to the day. The sunshine was bright in the morning. She walked through the ever-so-busy-never-a-dull-moment Times Square and saw many pedestrians sitting, walking, or parking themselves each seemingly with a good book to read. In fact, a lot of people just sort of settled themselves there since they closed off some of the roads to traffic and relaxed or met up with friends. It was quite special to see.

  Emma made her way over to a park nearby and sat on a park bench looking up at the sky and watching the wind rustle the tree leaves on the branches. Enjoying the scenery. Enjoying nature in the middle of the concrete jungle.

  She even watched as the water flowed from the crystal blue water fountain. It looked breathtaking. Beautiful.

  For some strange reason, the endless flow reminded her of the legendary fountain of youth-often referred to as the water of life. Her grandfather used to tell her stories about the fountain of youth that could apparently restore the youth of anyone who drank from its spring waters. The tales, from over one thousand years ago, have stretched from the Caribbean to Africa to Europe.

  She had a moment of sorrow touch her heart. She wished of all wishes, that it was somehow real. She’d walk over to the fountain and take some in a bottle to bring to her grandfather. She really couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. Ever. It gripped her heart and squeezed it to think of such a thing.

  She decided to give him a call on her BlackBerry as she sat on the park bench. Her trench coat folded over her. She searched in her purse and pulled out the phone and powered it on.

  When Gramps answered, he was in a cheery mood, but the nurse was also there about to give him his daily injection. She didn’t want to disturb and told him she’d see him very soon. She just couldn’t wait to be near him again.

  “Love you, too, pumpkin,” he said in a groggy, morning voice.

  “Love you more, Gramps,” she replied, melting at the sound of his voice. She really did miss him.

  “Can’t wait to see you married next week.”

  Oops!

  She felt heat rush from her again. Drained clear out of her face. She’d almost forgotten about her promise to him. This was ironic because she just made love last night to her groom-to-be. Which happened to be her boss. Something that made her stomach clench.

  What was she thinking? How could she face him at the office, like nothing happened?

  What will their behavior towards each other be like at the office? Would this affect her work? Evan’s work? What if everyone at the office found out?

  “Are you two having a good time?”

  “Yes, Gramps. Everything is great.” Well, that wasn’t quite a lie. They spent a passionate night together. People who are engaged do those things, you know.

  “Gramps?”

  “Yes, dear.”

  “You called the office yesterday.”

  “Yes, dear.”

  “Is everything alright?”

  “Oh, pumpkin,” he gave a hearty chuckled then coughed as if he had choked on his own saliva.

  “Gramps, you okay?” Panic rose in her chest.

  “Yes, pumpkin. I just got a little tickle in my throat.”

  “Oh dear, is the nurse still there?”

  “Yes, pumpkin. She’s giving me a bed bath now.”

  “Okay, I don’t want to disturb your morning routine.” Emma bit down on her lip and asked to speak briefly to the nurse to make sure everything was alright. She was about to ask her grandfather what exactly he said to the receptionist when he called but didn’t want to risk troubling his mind. After all, he had bigger things to worry about and it wasn’t quite his fault she’d led him to believe that she was engaged to Evan Fletcher.

  When she got back to the hotel, she decided to stop by the café on the ground floor of the restaurant to grab a quick bite and a cup of coffee. She figured, why not get something for Evan, too?

  She clarified what she meant by pickin
g up breakfast for Evan and herself and they both proceeded to pack to and get ready to head over to the airport.

  Evan had spoken to their client beforehand and made other arrangements. He went over to the office to do last minute consults. He was in awe of the photos from the shoot the day prior. He began to twitch again. The feeling was more pleasant than he cared to admit. Another thought dawned in his head. How were they going to act at the office? With what they’d just been through? He knew it was probably not the best of decisions to make love when out of town on a client shoot. What if she became clingy? Needy? What if she wanted more from him? More from their business relationship? Where would this leave him? And his company he’d worked so hard to build—the right way. Most importantly, where would this leave Emma? She was the last person on this planet he wanted to hurt in any way, shape, or form.

  Speaking of forms.

  He glanced back to the photo spread on the boardroom table of the client’s office. Emma was stunning. He couldn’t believe how beautiful she was and how he would marry her next week in a fake wedding ceremony. Still, it was for the best that it was only pretend.

  Damn that Fletcher curse!

  13

  “So, how was New York?” Lucinda narrowed her green eyes as Emma strolled through the glass doors of Fletcher Advertising on Monday morning.

  She noticed Lucinda’s facial expression seemed to betray her overly-cheerful, try-too-hard tone. Lucinda’s auburn hair seemed to gleam with the early morning sun blazing through the tall windows of the reception area. Kiku, a plump woman from accounting, stood at the reception desk facing Lucinda. It appeared as if they had been engaged in a very private conversation before Emma walked in. Kiku was here early, Emma observed.

  Kiku turned around and forced a polite smile to Emma. “Yes, how was New York?” Kiku chimed in.

  “It was good. We got a lot accomplished,” Emma offered. She then paused in front of the reception desk after her legs transported her from the entrance doors towards Lucinda’s desk. Her three-quarter length spring trench coat hung open in a stylish way. In addition, she had her briefcase in one hand, Gucci-imitation bag swung over her left shoulder—her shades placed above her head.

  Kiku then turned her attention back to Lucinda. Emma could not hear exactly what words were exchanged, but by the low whispers and mumbles under the breath, she’d bet it wasn’t nice—in fact, she thought she heard one of them mumble “I’ll bet it was” under her gossip-toned breath followed by a sly giggle. But she let it slide—just like water off a duck’s back. She was far too above the influence of the O.P. (office politics) drug. Good thing after being shuffled around as a kid, she developed leather-thick skin and a focused mind.

  Gramps always said that if people are talking behind your back, then you’re probably walking in the right direction. Still, when people—especially those with whom you work—said nasty things behind your back or to your side, it stung. Like an insect bite. You don’t know quite when it bit, or how it bit, or what the side-effects would be, but it was annoying as hell.

  Emma smiled confidently, not afraid to nip it in the bud. “Hey, what’s funny?” she asked cheerfully, as she pulled her coat off and slung it over her arm. She leaned on the high reception glass round desk with her bags in her hands. Waiting.

  Lucinda and Kiku froze.

  “Oh, nothing,” Lucinda sputtered with hesitation caught in her throat. Gosh, that deer-caught-in-the-headlights look was hilarious on Lucinda.

  Emma smiled and shook her head as she muscled up her bags and headed towards her office. “Have a nice day, ladies.” Emma was off. It was as if nothing bothered her. And why should it? She knew that gossip may surface if Gramps mentioned anything about the wedding fiancé thing between her and Evan. She could just see the headlines now on the old office gossip grapevine: Receptionist promoted to account coordinator then executive overnight via horizontal promotion.

  Emma rolled her eyes at the mere thought of it. Gossip was nothing more than a verbally transmitted dis-ease, according to Gramps, that attacks thoughts, ruins lives, and cripples reputations.

  Still she was going to prove herself immune from Lucinda’s vocal venom. Gramps always told her: “You have to know which battles to fight and which to walk away from.” She loved her Gramps.

  A crippling pain shot up in her belly when she thought she could lose him any day. He always told her she was destined for great stuff and to not let little annoyances of life throw her off balance or derail her from her true purpose and mission in life.

  Emma moved up the glass spiral steps to the second level of the loft towards her office. She could see through her blind spot that the girls still were frozen at reception—gaping up at her as she made her way up the steps, with defined footsteps of her heels. She shrugged if off—mentally. She really wasn’t about to let other opinions bother her.

  Not now.

  Not ever.

  Truth be told, between her beloved Gramps dying and her upcoming wedding—she had bigger issues bubbling up her pot right now.

  And speaking of weddings, Emma glanced towards Evan’s office on the way to her own office, but was sadly disappointed—no, peeved. She was definitely peeved that he wasn’t in his office or at his desk. Evan would usually be the first on the work scene—a workaholic trait of his she had warned him about playfully.

  She swallowed.

  She reached into her handbag once she got into her office and then closed the door behind her. She pulled out her BlackBerry and firmly pressed the number keys. The sound of Evan’s deep, silky voice boomed through the speaker of her cell phone.

  “Hi, you’ve reached 555-1218, please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.” Beep!

  Emma already left a message for Evan this weekend. She loved to hear his voice but not by way of a recording. She hung up immediately.

  “What’s going on?”

  Ever since they landed back in Texas, Evan had been—what’s the word?

  Standoffish.

  He hadn’t returned her phone calls over the weekend, which Emma thought was strangely peculiar. She didn’t want to appear the needy, Velcro-clingy type—the stuff she’d once overheard him talking about in terms of what turns him off a woman.

  Still, the man owed her a phone call. They had the most intimate night together brimming with hot, intense passion. Was she just a past time fling to him? A fun way to kill time in the Big Apple? She shuddered at the thought.

  Emma felt the heat rise in her chest like a volcano about to erupt. Then the inferno promptly travelled towards her cheek the moved its way up to her temples. She got up from her seat and closed the window blinds of her glass office so that nobody else in the loft could see her. She sat back down at her desk, logged on the computer, placed her elbows on the desk, and began massaging her temples. Her eyes closed tightly.

  Breathe in-2-3-4.

  Breathe out 2-3-4.

  She practiced. She just had to get a solid grip on herself before she lost her mind over Evan. But he sure was stirring her crazy. Not just stirring in the common sense. He was spinning her mind into a cocktail of confusion. How could she have read into what happened in New York so wrong? That’s what you get for sleeping with the boss, girl.

  Stupid.

  Stupid.

  Stupid.

  “Evan, where are you?”

  Just then, another thought spun into her mind like a Texas high wind. What if he was hurt? What if something bad happened to him? She sat back down to use the phone.

  Oh. My. God.

  She immediately picked up the silver receiver of her high-tech executive phone then slammed it back down into its cradle.

  She dropped the phone receiver as if it were a hot piece of coal. She was about to call Lucinda at reception to ask if she’d seen or heard from Evan.

  Emma got up again and paced with her arms folded across her chest.

  What to do? Oh, what to do?

  Emma raked
her fingers through her thick, lustrous, springy curls, then paused to give her conundrum some thought. The action of moving through her hair just reminded her of Evan’s gentle touch as he explored her locks during their warm embrace. He admired her natural curls, she could tell. She squeezed her eyes shut then opened them again.

  Think straight, she scolded herself.

  “Oh, dear God.” She clasped her hand over her forehead, paced again, and stopped. “Here I was thinking Evan was dodging me when he could be—missing!”