A Jewel In Time; A Sultry Sisters Anthology

by Barbara Devlin

  She wouldn’t have had sex in their seats anyway. She couldn’t bring herself to do that in public, even though ever fiber of her being wanted to straddle him and ride him like a bucking bronco.

  She was tired but remained awake, as she was haunted by the possibility that Emerson wasn’t the pirate in her dream. Although he obviously hadn’t believed in the power of the brooch, she had. Her mind wandered back to when her grandmother gave it to her and the powerful words she’d said. Her grandmother wasn’t a frivolous woman. She would not have been so adamant that it would reveal to Olivia her true love if it wouldn’t.

  And her mother had worn the brooch almost every day, so she believed in it, too. And even when she’d shared with her mother that she thought it was broken, her mom had insisted it was not, and told her to read the book for proof of that fact.

  Olivia twirled the ancient piece like she’d seen her mother do so many times. The weight of it was mildly comforting, and she loved running her fingers over the smoothness of the blue stone. It was hard to believe it had lasted so long.

  Even harder to believe was that the book had survived. She couldn’t read the date of the first entry, but she recalled one was at least a few centuries old. If it had made it through plagues and world wars, it seemed unlikely that it would just stop working when it got to her.

  So, she was back to a pirate. The only man with a link to pirates she knew was Johnny Depp. She tried to imagine being with him, but just couldn’t make it fit. He was a bit older than what she wanted, and he was an actor. She’d sworn she’d never date an actor. Besides, he was with some twenty-something bombshell, and everyone close to him knew he was still madly in love with his ex-girlfriend and mother to his two children, Vanessa.

  Then it struck her. She had dreamed about Emerson. It was a sex fantasy, but couldn’t that count as the brooch showing her that he was her true love? She strained to make it seem feasible, but she had only fantasized about him once, and it hadn’t explained the ship scene, or why she continued to have the other vision.

  She needed to ask her mom if the dreams would stop once she’d met her man. Her heart sank. If they did, that would be telling.

  Her mind was still spinning when the plane reached Los Angeles. The first rays of the sun illuminated the ocean, and the dizzy-with-energy city actually appeared peaceful below her.

  She shook Emerson gently. “Wake up, sleepy head. We’re here.”

  His eyelids fluttered open, and upon seeing her, he smiled. “Morning.”

  “Morning.” She kissed him. A wave of sadness rolled through her. It might be one of their last kisses for a while. He’d promised her a date before he returned to England, but currently every moment of his time in Los Angeles was booked. While he’d been with her in the hotel room, his assistant had been rescheduling all of his meetings.

  The next thirty minutes went by in a snap. They had landed, disembarked, picked up their luggage—thankfully not lost this time—and walked out to the taxi line.

  Emerson had held her hand walking through the terminal, but after he’d snagged his luggage off the carousel, he’d become distant as he searched his calendar for the address of his first appointment.

  Olivia’s heart beat wildly. He was standing in front of her, but she could already feel him slipping away. She needed to be close to him. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

  He winked at her but went back to his planner.

  She looked around frantically. There were only two people ahead of them in the taxi line. She shifted from one foot to the other. They only had minutes left together.

  He pocketed his phone, swept her off her feet, and into the famous sailor embrace. She kissed him like she’d never kissed him before. She pressed her lips hard into his and accepted his tongue into her mouth. She gripped the back of his head like she thought it might fall off if she released it.

  She imaged that was how army wives kissed their husbands before they shipped out. Her desperation seeped though her pores, she held him tighter. Emerson returned her passion by pressing his fingertips into her side and fully claiming her mouth.

  “Next.” The voice was gruff and broke them apart.

  The driver had already taken Emerson’s bag and put it in the trunk. Her boyfriend gave her one last squeeze. “I love you.” He slid into the cab.

  “I love you too.” She watched the taxi pull away. Then he was gone.

  * * *

  Emerson had been pleased that his final prospect announced they had enough information, mid-afternoon, and requested to be let out of their dinner plans with him. It had been a grueling two and a half days. No one had given him a signed contract, but he was confident that at least one was a firm yes and would go through by the partner’s meeting, two days from now. With at least one of the deals sealed, he could persuade them from making the decision to sell. Buccaneer Trading had been in his family for centuries, and it wasn’t going to be lost on his watch.

  Though he’d been focused on work the past few whirlwind days, Olivia had crept into his thoughts a lot. He’d texted when he’d had a moment, and called each night, but he hadn’t been able to see her since he’d stayed up most evenings, working on his proposals. She’d offered to come to his hotel room, but he’d refused because he knew couldn’t handle the distraction. With the future of Buccaneer Trading in his hands, he couldn’t have his hands all over the woman he loved.

  But, with all the business he could do for now completed, he could finally see Olivia. And none too late. He flew to New York on the red-eye, tonight, then on to London.

  She’d told him that she’d gone back to work the day after they arrived in Los Angeles. She’d claimed that staying home, alone, when she knew he was in town, had been driving her mad. He decided to surprise her at her office and get a glimpse into her world.

  Emerson exited the elevator of the high-rise office building in West Hollywood. He was greeted by an ornate sign reading: Welcome to DuBois PR. Please check-in with reception. An arrow pointed down a hallway lined with photographs of Olivia and various stars, interspersed with magazine covers. She was quite humble, as she hadn’t mentioned knowing any of those people in their conversations.

  A girl with bleached blonde hair, and a royal blue streak running through it, and some sort of mini braids in part of her tresses gnawed on the edge of a pen as she gabbed on the phone at the glass and chrome reception desk. She glanced at him but made no perceivable sign to acknowledge him.

  He surveyed the waiting area. It was impressive and modern. Three white leather couches formed a u-shape around a large glass and chrome square table topped with a silver sculpture of what he couldn’t tell. A large oval mirror, framed in an ornate silver border, hung behind one of the couches. Sculptures similar to the one on the table hung over the other two. A hot pink pillow adorned each couch, and a zebra print rug covered the floor.

  Down the hall he saw Olivia. The sight of her stopped his heart for a moment. She was a vision in a suit and strappy heels that matched the pillows, and hose that had a single design starting at her ankle and disappearing under her knee-length skirt. Her golden hair was curled in large ringlets.

  She stood in the hall, conversing with two gentlemen. One looked very familiar, but he couldn’t place him. Judging by their body language and facial expressions, they were both captivated by her.

  “It’s not cool to stare.”

  Emerson rotated to address the rude receptionist. “I was trying to figure out who Olivia is talking to.”

  “Seriously? That’s Jake Gyllenhaal. Everyone knows who he is.” The bleach blonde rolled her eyes.

  “Apparently, not everyone.” He found it hard to believe someone as bitchy as that girl was who Olivia had working her front desk.

  “Apparently.” She clicked a few buttons on her keyboard. “Who are you anyway? I don’t show any appointments right now.”

  “I’m Emerson Gascoigne-Lake.”

  She stared at him blankly from u
nder fake lashes and, in his opinion, too much eye make-up.

  “I’m Olivia’s…” He stopped himself. Perhaps she hadn’t told her staff about him. Perhaps she kept her business life and personal life separate.

  “Your Olivia’s what?” The girl tapped a long, probably fake, nail against the desktop.

  The phone rang, and the utterly without manners girl answered it and got lost in a conversation.

  Emerson turned back to the hallway. Olivia saw him, smiled broadly, and held up a finger, requesting he give her a minute, so he made himself comfortable on one of the white leather sofas.

  A man came around the corner from the elevator, carrying a huge vase of flowers. “Delivery for Ms. DuBois.”

  The receptionist signed his sheet and shoed him away, while continuing to talk on the phone. A moment later, she hung up and plucked the card from its holder. She opened it. Emerson made a mental note to never send personal correspondence to Olivia at her office.

  The girl tossed the envelope and slid the card into the holder.

  Olivia walked Jake and the other man past him. He couldn’t catch the words, but the tone in her voice was so confident and elegant. He could tell she really knew her stuff.

  The elevator dinged and seconds later she was standing in front of him beaming. “Come into my office.” She took his hand and led him down the hall.

  “He’s not on the books, and Travis sent you flowers…again,” the receptionist yelled after them.

  “What’s with her?” He followed Olivia through a maze of hallways past offices filled with people. He hadn’t realized her company was so large.

  “She’s a temp. One of my Account Exec’s sisters home from college. My regular girl is visiting family for the holidays. She interviewed ok, but she’s awful, isn’t she?” She led him through double doors into her office.

  “That’s an understatement.” Emerson’s breath caught in his throat. The décor reflected that of the waiting room, but a large glass window provided an amazing view.

  “It’s so fabulous to see you!” Olivia clicked the lock on her door and jumped on him. They collapsed onto the couch.

  Bang. Bang. “Who is it?” Olivia rolled off of him. “I’m in a meeting.”

  “It’s Stacy. Little Miss Princess just got arrested.”

  “What? She’s in rehab.” Olivia stood, smoothed her skirt, and opened the door.

  “She convinced the center to let her out for Christmas, and she didn’t go back.” Stacy and two other impeccably dressed women trotted into the room and took up residence around the conference table.

  “Oh, shit. Who knows?” Olivia shot him an apologetic glance.

  “TMZ already posted a photo.” Stacy’s phone trilled, and she answered. The two other women’s phones rang, as well.

  “Should I go?” Emerson asked and rose from the couch..

  “No, you can stay. I’m so sorry. Little Miss Princess, as we call her. We give all our clients code names in case files get hacked.” She gestured to the table. “Team, this is Emerson. He’s cool.” The women each gave him a wave and he smiled at them.

  Then he sat on the sofa and watched his woman go to work.

  Olivia’s phone lit up. “Call from Entertainment Tonight, line two.” She pressed the button and launched into a deal that involved an exclusive interview with Little Miss Princess in exchange for ET not reporting the arrest. She hit a button on the phone. “Someone get her agent on the line and confirm that we can give ET a sneak peek of the movie trailer before anyone else.”

  The brunette responded, “I’m on it. Phil owes me a favor.”

  Emerson crossed his legs and marveled at the ease and grace with which Olivia handled every conversation with high-end entertainment shows and magazines, while directing her team to contact bloggers and other news media outlets. The goal was to squelch the news, and she seemed to be doing a great job accomplishing her mission.

  Her phone lit up again. “Travis is here to see you.” Emerson detected a bit of amusement in the receptionist’s voice.

  “Absolutely not.” Anger danced across her face.

  “He said he won’t leave until he sees you. He’s on his way back.”

  “Stop him. And call security.” Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the receiver tighter.

  “Really?” Emerson doubted the blue streaked receptionist had it in her to actually stop Olivia’s ex.

  “Yes, really.” Olivia slammed the phone down, got up, closed her door, and locked it. Her team raised their eyebrows but said nothing.

  Her assertiveness impressed him.

  Bang. Bang. “Olivia, I know you are in there.” Emerson tensed. He didn’t like confrontation, but if he had to deck the guy to protect Olivia he would do so.

  “Yes, and I’m in here with several people. I have a client emergency. You need to leave.” Olivia stared at the door.

  Silence.

  She shook her head. “Travis. I’m not kidding. One of my client’s got arrested.”

  “Sorry. I’ll call you tonight.”

  She mumbled, “Don’t bother,” and answered an incoming call. “Hi, Jonathan, thanks for calling me back. I have a better story for you than another boring DUI arrest.”

  Olivia kept making eye contact with Emerson and mouthing, “I’m so sorry.”

  Although he’d rather be spending the time with her alone, observing her work allowed him to see more of who she was, and he drank it in, fascinated and amazed. She was the most dynamic, kind, smart, and beautiful woman he knew.

  As she interacted with her employees and successfully negotiated difficult deals with the media, he wondered how they would make their relationship work. They’d only been in the real world for three days and already both of their businesses had come between them. And that was without the distance and time difference to navigate.

  He loved her dearly, but he was a practical man. And his logical side was telling him they weren’t going to make it. He sighed.

  About an hour later, the receptionist entered and deposited Chinese takeout bags on the conference table, along with napkins, plates, silverware, and an assortment of drinks.

  Emerson was invited to join them at the table, though there was little conversation, as everyone kept working. When he finished eating, he glanced at the time. He had to leave now to return the rental car and make his flight. He caught Olivia’s attention and pointed to his watch.

  She nodded, finished up her conversation, and motioned him to leave. She followed him. “I’ll be right back, everyone.” They all waved bye to him.

  She immediately wrapped her arms around him and kissed him deeply—the way he liked it. He wished he could delay his flight and stay with her just one more night, but he had to be at the meeting.

  Stacy stuck her head out in the hall. “Sorry to interrupt you, but Little Miss Princess is on the phone. Her agent bailed her. She’s insisting that she speak to you.”

  “Stall her, I need a few minutes.” Olivia locked gazes with Emerson and tears welled in her eyes.

  Seeing her go from being a strong businesswoman to sensitive and vulnerable just about ripped his heart from his chest. He hadn’t wanted to be without her. There had to be a way to work things out between them.

  “I am so sorry. I wish we could’ve spent your last few hours here doing something together.” She cupped his face in her hands.

  He squeezed her. “I loved being near you and watching you work.”

  She shook her head. “Really. That must’ve been boring.”

  He playfully slapped her ass. “Not at all. I have to go.”

  “I know.” The tears ran down her cheeks. He rubbed them away with his thumbs.

  “Walk me out.” He took her hand.

  She all out sobbed. He hadn’t expected that. “I love you, Olivia. We will figure this out.” He hadn’t felt confident they would, but he wasn’t going to share that with her right now.

  “I love you so much.” She wrapped her arms ar
ound his waist and stopped walking.

  “Come here, girlfriend.” He picked her up and carried her to the entrance to the elevator. He hit the button. Then he gave her the most passionate kiss he could manage. “I’ll call you, when I get to London.”

  Chapter 10

  Olivia awoke the following morning, splayed on her comforter, still wearing the clothes from the previous day. She groaned. She vaguely remembered crashing onto the bed, exhausted after working well into the night.

  She rolled over, painfully aware that something was missing. Emerson. Waking up in familiar and cozy surroundings was no substitute for being enveloped in his arms. She wondered when she’d get to spoon with him again.

  She reached for her phone. Eighteen texts and nine voice mails. She groaned again. It wasn’t even nine a.m. yet. After confirming none were urgent, or from Emerson, and too many were from Travis, she threw a couple decorative pillows across the room to release tension. Emerson had to be back in London by now. He’d said he’d call her when he’d arrived. She checked her phone again. No, nothing from him. She frowned.

  The timing of her client’s crisis could not have come at a worse moment. She resented that it had robbed her of her final evening with Emerson. Spinning not so great news for her clients was what they paid her handsomely to do, so inconvenient interruptions were a hazard of the job. That incident wasn’t the first that had pulled her away from loved ones. She huffed.

  She was grateful Emerson had understood, but it had made her wonder if their love had a chance. Since they’d landed in Los Angeles, his work, then hers, had kept them apart. She twirled the brooch. Were those signs they weren’t meant to be together?

  Her mom’s ringtone played from her phone: