"It was fine," he replies abrupt. His tone has a hard edge to it, as he continues to watch me intently.
Nodding, feeling extremely uncomfortable, silently praying for Charlotte to hurry up, I decide the silence is better and break away from his intense gaze.
"Martha showed me the room you have ready and also informed me that you already have a photoshoot done," he says, breaking the silence. This tone seems softer, even if it is forced.
Meeting his eyes again, I see regret. My stomach flops, then clenches.
"Yes, I hope that is okay. We needed photos for the website and booking engines. We had several requests stating they loved the landscape photos of the vineyard but they wanted photos of the rooms before they would book," I respond, keeping my voice quiet but holding his gaze, wondering what his regrets were. Did he not like the room?
Was one of them hiring me? – my heart stops beating for a second at that thought. Despite everything, I have grown to love my job.
And I couldn’t imagine not seeing Lucas again.
Sighing, Lucas rubs the back of his neck before leaning forward to say softly, "I'm sorry I acted like an ass earlier."
"It seems I bring out the ass in you," I throw back without thinking.
His short burst of laughter before he smiles, causes my raised hackles to recede a little and I start to relax a little for the first time.
"It seems you do," he replies easily in agreement, grinning at me.
"Well now, here we go," Charlotte says loudly as she walks beaming into the breakfast nook area. My mouth waters as I see a platter of eggs Benedict set before me. William pops the cork on a bottle of bubbly wine and pours each of us a glass as we take turns helping ourselves to the delicious food. The meal passes quickly and I find myself thoroughly enjoying being here with Lucas and his parents. Thankfully, the awkwardness that had been between Lucas and me when I first arrived has completely disappeared.
Afterwards, I help Charlotte clean up after brunch, a glow from the bubbly wine staining my cheeks, as I assist her around the kitchen.
Observing my wine flushed cheeks, Charlotte suggests firmly, "I think Lucas should drive you home.”
"Oh no. That's fine. I can walk," I respond quickly.
"Nonsense," she says waving away my response. "Lucas," she raises her voice as she calls out to him in the breakfast nook, "Emma needs a ride home. I think the two glasses of bubbly has made her a little tipsy."
My stomach takes a nose dive.
Lucas emerges from the breakfast nook from where he was wiping down the table. My cheeks flush even more as his glance falls on me.
"I can walk," I insist quickly, once again.
His eyes seem to mock me as he takes in my flushed cheeks, even as a beautifully wide teasing smile plays at the corner of his mouth, as he replies easily, "There's no reason for you to walk. I’m driving right past the cottage."
I give up and with my cheeks burning, I take the plates from the countertop and begin loading them into the dishwasher.
"Ready?" Lucas asks, once the clean-up is done a few moments later.
Nodding, slightly nervous at being alone with him if only for a short ride, I follow him to the door.
"Thanks for coming, Emma. Same time next week," Charlotte says enthusiastically as she gives me a warm hug.
"Oh, oh! Now you are roped into the weekly brunches," William teases.
Charlotte lightly smacks him on the arm telling him to behave. I can’t help but laugh at their banter despite the upcoming unnerving car ride back to the cottage. Loving how they interact with each other, loving how they have so easily invited me into their home.
"I'll gladly be back next week, and the next week and even the next week after that if you keep serving those eggs Benedict," I joke.
"The menu is the same every Saturday," I hear Lucas say, rolling his eyes. "It's been a tradition since I was a born."
"In that case, I’m definitely in for next Saturday," I reply to Charlotte, pushing away my uneasiness in having to endure Lucas again next Saturday. After all, I would have to endure him all week at work.
Turning, I head out the door to Lucas's car. As I reach for the handle, Lucas gently knocks my hand away to open the passenger door for me. He waits for me to be settled before slamming it shut. I say a silent thank you that it is a short drive to the cottage.
As Lucas slides into the driver's seat, I watch how his jeans are tight in all the right places. My gaze slides to between his legs as he turns to grasp his seatbelt and I can't stop myself from wondering if the bulge I see there is from the bunched-up fabric of his jeans...
Or if it is the actual size of him...
I lick my lips.
Then my cheeks flush as I realize that the wine had affected my inhibitions more than I realized and I quickly avert my gaze before Lucas catches me ogling his crotch.
Nothing good would come of that.
"Are you interested in a run this evening?" I hear Lucas ask, snapping me out of my musings, and back to reality.
"I ran this morning but I definitely need another run after that meal," I respond after swallowing, my heart racing at his question.
At my inner thoughts about him.
Between my thighs is a yearning that only seems to be growing deeper and deeper when I’m around him.
He laughs, oblivious to my heightened sexual state, as he replies, "It is pure indulgence but my mother's eggs Benedict are worth it."
I nod in agreement and we both fall silent. I try to curtail the sexual pull I feel towards him during the drive but it’s hard with his masculine scent, along with his perfect physique, sitting only inches away from me. I envision how easily I could reach over and discover exactly what was material...
What was him...
When he pulls into my driveway, I open the door before Lucas has a chance to move.
I quickly exit the car, tossing over my shoulder, "I'll be ready around 7 for that run."
Shutting the car door, my steps light despite my inner turmoil, I quickly take the front steps up the front of the cottage, desperately needing a break from him and all of that sexual magnetism.
Chapter 8
Lucas
Watching as Emma opens the door to the cottage, I can't help the grin that spreads across my face. I had missed seeing her this past week and to be back in her company with plans to spend more time with her this evening, I can’t help the shit eating grin that crosses my face.
After brunch last week, my father had contacted me, telling me that I was going to Napa with him, no arguments. He felt that I needed to put space between myself and Emma, that I needed time to clear my head and accept that she was seeing someone.
What my mother did today, I didn't quite grasp. It was as if she had orchestrated the brunch so that Emma and I would have to talk. At this point, I don't care what she planned because Emma and I had called a truce today.
Maybe I’m getting my hopes up again and I shouldn't have asked her for a run, especially when I had made up my mind at brunch that I would treat her like any other employee and maintain my distance. But driving her home, I had thought there had been that usual spark between us and it made me reluctant to keep my promise. Instead, I had broken the promise I had made to myself to stay away from her and invited her for a run.
I would make sure that we maintained a professional relationship only, - I sternly remind myself. After all, I wasn't into sharing a woman with another man.
With that thought, my mind taunts me with images of the officer touching her cheek, brushing those perfect lips of hers with his. My hands tighten around the steering wheel and I close my eyes for a moment, willing the thoughts away.
Sighing, I back out of her driveway and head to my house, never feeling so lonesome and so anxious for time to pass. Not knowing what to do with myself until our run, I decide to catch up on some paperwork. I work until 5 and then make a sandwich, wanting to keep my dinner light before my run.
As
I take the last bite of my sandwich, my phone rings. Seeing Stephen's face light up my screen, I can’t help but grin as I answer.
"Hey stranger. You busy tonight?" I hear him ask immediately.
Thinking of Emma, I reply, "Yeah, I am."
"Unless it's a hot date, you should cancel," he jests.
"Why? What’s your plan?" I ask, knowing what the answer will be. Stephen is even more of a playboy than I ever was.
"I've got two babes that want to hook up," he boasts.
Shaking my head, I laugh as I respond, "Sorry, I’m out. I have plans."
"Change them," he says immediately. "You gotta see this girl I have for you. She's hot. Tall, blond and extremely leggy, just the way you like them."
Still laughing, knowing that the girls Stephen is talking about are most likely two girls who are looking to have the same kind of fun Stephen intends to have, I reply, "Not tonight, Stephen."
"Oh, come on, man! You’ve said no the past couple of times I have asked you," he whines. Then, "Wait now. Do you have plans with a female?"
Sighing, losing my laughter as I think of Emma, I admit, "You could say that."
"Don't tell me you are working or hanging out with the lovely Martha," he says jokingly.
"No, I have actual plans," I avoid mentioning that I’m waiting impatiently, like a loser, to meet a girl for a run, who is already taken. Stephen would be in waves and waves of laughter if he knew my exact reason.
"Tell me, who is she? You going to bang her?" he probes.
"It's a work associate and we are going for a run," I give in, hating the words Stephen is using with regards to Emma. If I was ever given the chance, Emma would never be a quick lay to me.
"A work associate that you want to bang? Thought you usually stayed away from that sort of thing? Tell me what she looks like!" he says, raucously.
"I'm hanging up now, Stephen," I threaten, feeling myself getting irritated. I suddenly realize Stephen’s terminology hadn’t bothered me before when we discussed women.
That’s because it hadn’t mattered before.
"Ahhhh, come on man. Ditch the work chick for a sure lay,” he now says, his voice now revealing a bit of whining in his tone. “I hear Tammy can suck a cock like...”
"Bye, Stephen," I say, hanging up quickly, having no interest in anything further that he has to say.
Perhaps I’m crazy but spending an evening with Emma appeals to me far more than what Stephen has planned. Even though I know I can't touch her.
I glance at the time on my phone once again and it reads 5:32. I sigh as I impatiently take my phone and my empty plate to the kitchen. After laying the plate in the dishwasher, I look around my lonely home.
Despite the warm and cozy furnishings, it has never felt so empty and bare. Sighing heavily, I decide to go back to the paperwork for another hour before I change into my workout clothes.
A few minutes before 7, after what seems like forever waiting, I pull the door to my house closed behind me and jog to the cottage. My strides are long and quick and I arrive in record time. Knocking on the door, it swings open immediately and Emma is standing there, looking so very beautiful with her face beaming up at me.
"Right on time," she murmurs, before stepping out and pulling the door to the cottage shut behind her.
We remain silent as we pick up our pace, but I still feel the contentment slide through me with something as simple as only having her next to me.
There's nowhere else I'd rather be.
There’s no one else I’d rather be with.
We continue to complete our run in a comfortable, companionable silence and this run is the start of our new comfortable, working – completely platonic - friendship.
Even though there would be times that I would catch myself watching her; watching her accomplish simple daily tasks such as making coffee, the way her hands moved sometimes when she spoken to the foreman about how she pictured certain details for the restaurant, how she would smile at everyone she encountered...making them feel that they were the center of her world.
It’s what she makes me feel every time she shares that smile with me and several times I become hopeful, thinking I’m seeing something there. But then I crash back to earth when she abruptly turns or bestows that smile on some other poor male that has the same hopes as me.
The next weeks roll by quickly as we really dig in, working every waking moment, to get the rooms and restaurant ready for the grand opening. I have an internal fight every day to maintain my distance as I watch Emma take charge of pretty much everything with regards to the restaurant. She has assumed the role for hiring and conversing with the chef on the menu, knowing exactly what she is looking for, but leaving the wine pairing to me. She also oversees the interior decor of the rooms and restaurant, making tweaks here and there from my plans. I don't interfere with her decisions to make changes. I trust her.
I would even trust her with my heart if she only wanted it.
She works steadily beside me throughout it all only gaining more of my respect as time hurries by as she never hesitates at the extra hours. I often wonder how her boyfriend feels that she has spent her every waking moment here lately but I don’t ask and I thankfully don’t cross paths with him again.
Finally, six weeks after Emma started, we reach our opening day. If I thought she was busy before, on opening day she doesn't even take time to eat.
Late afternoon, I watch her scurry through the dining room, stopping here and there to fix something she sees out of place. Her distracted, worried gaze comes to me and she gives me a tired smile before moving to step past me.
Reaching out, I grasp her by the arm. The sizzling awareness that still exists between us sparks electrical currents through my fingers at the feel of her skin.
Her shocked, but extremely tired eyes warily come up to my face as I say firmly, "Emma. You need to eat."
Shaking her head, she breaks the connection with our eyes, using the excuse to glance around the restaurant one more time to make sure everything is right, as she replies, "I'll eat later. Right now I have to..."
"No, you'll eat now,” I interrupt her. “You're no good to this place if you keep this up. Take a break and eat," I continue firmly.
She lets out an exasperated sigh, giving in, knowing that I won't give up. Keeping her arm in my grasp, I force her to sit on the bar stool at the bar as I place my dinner, that was prepared by my mother who knew I was too busy to cook, in front of Emma. I watch as Emma takes a bite, then quickly takes another. She doesn't stop until it is completely gone.
"Wow, I was hungry," she says, bashfully.
Laughing, I agree, "Yes, you were.” Sobering quickly, I say sternly, “Now slow down and take a moment."
Her eyes widen as she replies, "I can't. I have over one hundred people coming shortly plus the guests at the inn that are already starting to check in. I have to get back to work." She jumps up from the stool before I have a chance to stop her and brushing past me, heads right back into it.
That night I’m sure Emma is going to run out of steam. She practically flies around the restaurant, making sure everyone is doing their jobs, along with checking on guests to ensure they are having a great meal. I watch her, always unable to keep my eyes away from her, as I sit with my parents for just a few minutes to have a celebratory toast.
"Emma is so busy," my mother states as she too watches Emma.
Sighing, I reply, "I have tried to get her to slow down. But she keeps going. I’m afraid she is going to burn out soon. I’m hoping that after tonight she will relax a little."
But it doesn't happen and after our second week of operations, I take it upon myself to step in. I call the recently hired host, whom - from what I can see so far - can handle her job perfectly, and ask her to cover Emma’s shift.
Stopping Emma in her tracks as she tries to blow past me in the morning, I catch her arm, knowing touching her will get her immediate attention, to inform her, "Emma, you are not ho
sting tonight."
She shakes her head and as she opens her mouth to say something, I interrupt her before she has a word out.
"I want you to meet the group I am bringing here tonight. It's business so you don't have to feel guilty. You’ll still be working but you will at least have a chance to eat a sensible meal," I say firmly.
"I think I should work to make sure everything goes fine for the meeting," she replies but I can see the tiredness in her eyes. She wants to give in, take a little rest but she also doesn’t want to let go. It’s hard placing your trust in someone for the first time and I know Emma cares about what happens with this place just as much as I do.
"No, go home. Have a rest and meet me back here tonight at 7," I say coaxingly.
She hesitates and I switch to a firm tone as I state, "Go home, Emma."
She sighs, clearly exhausted, before reluctantly giving in. Finally, she nods as she concedes, "Okay. Call me if you need me for anything."
I don't answer her. There's no point. Unless the place catches on fire and she is the only one who can save it, I won’t be calling her.
I spend the afternoon taking over part of Emma's job, making sure the kitchen has everything it needs, ensuring the new staff are paired up with the staff already trained before heading home to have a quick shower.
A few minutes before 7, the hired limousine pulls up out front of the restaurant and my guests for the evening from other vineyards in the area spill out. As I’m showing the last one to her seat, the restaurant door swings open and Emma steps inside.
My attention is immediately riveted to her, my need for her pulsing through my body.
Dressed in a long, black, floor length evening gown that has a scooped neckline which clearly shows off her cleavage to the best vantage point, she has my body begging for her from across the room. The dress clings tightly to her body, outlining her perfect, luscious, sensual silhouette.
Managing to find my brain, I move forward to greet her, my eyes moving over the elegance of her long neck that is on display with her hair pulled up and off her face.
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