by Rose Lange
When he got there, he was hell-bent on going straight to Emma’s office and apologizing. Or, he’d ask her for a date. He didn’t know which.
The truth? She’d still been haunting his dreams, making him wake up in a cold sweat and rock hard.
When he arrived at the office, he set off to talk to Emma. Almost there, his boss, Nina, stopped him.
“Good morning, Patrick. Can I see you in my office for a moment?”
Her hazel eyes sparkling, she smiled good-naturedly, and within moments, he was seated behind her desk, the door shut behind him.
Taking a seat opposite him, something changed in her eyes. He could practically feel her desire for him as she openly stared, as though she were mentally undressing him, eye-fucking him, hard, right here in her office. It made him uncomfortable, and he wanted to tuck tail and run.
“I’m not going to mince words, Patrick,” she purred. “I’ve wanted you since you started working here, and I’d love to get more . . . acquainted.”
She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs, showcasing what she had to offer.
He stifled a laugh behind his hand. There was no way in hell he’d ever get involved with Nina. Even if pursuing a relationship with Emma proved crazy, he couldn’t turn back or turn away now. She intoxicated his good senses and made him feel things he’d not felt in a long time.
He stood, making his way toward the door, but she stopped him. “I’ll have to pass, thank you.”
Quickly and stealthy like a cat, she arose and thrust her chest against his. His gaze flicked down where her nimble fingers boldly loosened his tie and unbuttoned one button.
“Oh come on, Patrick. Let’s have a little fun. Nobody has to know.”
“No, thank you.” What else could he say in such an awkward situation?
She narrowed her eyes and plastered a fake smile on her face. “Okay, I’ll take no for an answer, for now.”
He grabbed the knob and opened the door, only to come face with Emma, poised with her hand to knock. Her eyes immediately landed on his tie, undone, and the lone button, opened to reveal a patch of skin. She lifted her chin, her lower lip trembling, but she didn’t say a word before she turned and walked the other way.
“Emma, wait.”
She tried closing her door in his face, but he shoved against it. Fine, if she wanted to do battle, then he was prepared to do battle.
Taking a seat behind her desk, she opened her laptop, blocking her face from his view.
“Emma, can I talk to you?”
He quickly straightened his appearance and sat at the edge of her desk.
Her laser-sharp vision trained on him, nearly making him squirm. “So, talk.”
“That wasn’t what it looked like back there,” he began.
She put a hand up. “I don’t care what you do, or don’t do, with Nina. Now, unless you want to waste this day, let’s get to work.”
Shooting to his feet, he pressed both palms against her desk. “Nothing happened, and you do care, so stop lying.”
Again, those eyes penetrated him, and he could see the hurt deep inside them. He could hear those gears in her brain grinding, maybe even remembering last night.
She stood to face him, leaning close, but not too close. “I. Don’t. Care. Why should it matter if you’ve got your pick of every single woman in this office? God knows they’d be willing.”
His jaw ticked. “That’s not true, and you know it.”
Cocking her head, she studied him. “Oh, really. Haha, yeah, right.”
The sight of Emma angry, jealous, and feisty had quite an effect on him. Stealing his ability to speak, as his words got lost.
His eyes trailed the lock of hair grazing her right eye then crossed the delightful smattering of freckles over her nose and cheekbones, flushed pale pink, to her dusky rosebud lips. A simple jeweled necklace dangled between her perfect cleavage. Sweet mercy. Cleavage he’d love to bury his face between.
Emma looked good enough to eat right about now. The plum dress she wore wrapped her lush womanly curves to absolute perfection. He found he had to work really hard to tamp down his desire.
Finally, he found his voice. “I’m not arguing with you, Emma. I came in here to ask you out on a date.”
She scoffed. “Thank you, but again, I’ll pass.” With this, she sat back down and focused her attention to her computer screen.
His jaw throbbed as he walked out, too damned frustrated and turned on to continue the conversation.
~ ~ ~
“Oh, Emma, you do care. Why’d you lie to him?”
That night, she and Sarah sat Indian-style on the living room floor. A half-devoured pizza sat between them. She took another guzzle of her ice-cold Miller Lite.
“And another thing,” Sarah said, “why don’t you just go on a date with him? It’s obvious you want to.”
Emma schooled her features as best she could. “I can’t, Sarah. And you know what? I don’t care if he gets involved with Nina or not.”
“Stop right there, Ems. That’s a lie, and you know it.”
“What do you mean? I really don’t care, Sarah.”
“I know you care, Emma, because if you didn’t, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”
Emma set her plate of half-eaten pizza aside, took another swig of beer, and leaned her head back against the couch, a corkscrew of emotions spiraling inside her. Damn it, Patrick had only been back in her life for a little over a month and already ugly emotions came out. Jealousy, for one, which was ridiculous, desire, which was dangerous, and addictive, the latter of which terrified the living heck out of her.
“I just don’t know what to do. Patrick’s getting hired at the company has certainly shaken things up a bit.”
Sarah stifled a laugh between her last few bites of pizza. Wiping her mouth off with a napkin, she smiled. “It’s shaken things up a lot. Why don’t you ask him on a date? You know damn well he’s not interested in the slightest in Nina.”
Considering his slightly disheveled appearance coming out of their boss’s office, she could not control herself and said, “That remains to be seen. Doesn’t really matter anyway, does it? I mean, considering I keep turning him down.”
Sarah set a comforting hand on her knee. “I’m sure he’d be more than happy to take you out, dear friend.”
Chapter 6
Brisk, night air greeted him when work let out, and too restless to go home, he decided to take the half hour drive and visit his parents in Port Washington. He didn’t care to be alone right now, needed to talk someone.
Pulling up to the familiar brick, ranch-style house, he smiled. Flowers in every color bordered the narrow driveway. A welcome friends flag with various birds hung near the front door. Noting the silver van parked in the driveway, he knew at least his mom was home.
He glanced over at Emma’s old house next door and smiled. The cozy yellow Cape Cod with attached one car garage looked the same as when she and her mom lived there. The grin on his face grew as he looked toward the top left window.
Emma’s old bedroom, and he could still picture her. Gauzy white curtains drawn back as she’d study him, one hand resting on her chin, and a moon-eyed expression on her face. She’d been absolutely adorable.
Realizing he was getting carried away, he shook his head and exited his vehicle.
The door was unlocked as he went to open it. “Mom?”
“Patrick, honey? Is that you?”
His mother’s sweet voice and the warmth of the tiny kitchen enveloped him as one. Surrounded by the smells of fresh-baked bread, homemade brownies, and beef stew made him take an appreciate whiff. Ambient relaxing music played in the background. Her snowy white cat, Fly Girl, nuzzled her head against his leg. He smiled and knelt do
wn, briefly giving her a loving scratch behind the ear.
He stood to greet his mom, kissing an upturned cheek. “Hi, Mom.”
She wiped her hands on a kitchen towel before setting it aside. Grasping him around the neck, she pulled him in for a hug. “How are you doing?”
He nodded. “Just fine. Thought I’d come out and pay you a visit. See how you’ve been. Hey, is Mrs. McCallen still living next door?”
The words were out, but he wished them back. He hoped his mom wouldn’t see more into the question.
Catrine Taylor held either side of his face, and probably saw right through him, as if possessing mind-reading power. Moms, especially his, had an uncanny way of doing that.
“No, she moved to the country. It’s been a few years now. Why do you ask?”
He shrugged. “No reason.”
She grinned a sly, knowing grin, but refrained from further comment. Silently, she went about fixing two cups of tea, and took a seat at the table.
“How’s the new job of yours going?” she asked.
He joined her, taking a sip of the soothing liquid. “Fine.”
She appraised him and pursed her lips, as if she knew there was more, but didn’t want to probe. “Dinner will be ready soon. Are you hungry?”
“Thanks, but no,” he said, and took another sip.
Thoughts of Emma played on repeat in his mind, inappropriate ones he had no business thinking about in front of his mother, but he couldn’t stop them from coming. Memories that burned like a brushfire in the forest, destroying everything in its path, but damn, he’d willingly traveled into the fire.
“Tell me about her.”
Patrick looked up, greeting her gaze. “Emma.”
“Emma McCallen? The sweet girl who used to live next door?” She teasingly winked one eye between sips.
Embarrassing heat prickled and set his entire neck on fire. Nobody, except Mike, knew what really happened between them years ago, and the passing of time only intensified his feelings. Picturing the voluptuous, beautiful, spirited woman she was now, and replaying the kiss over, and over again. His hunger for her took on its own life force.
“Yes, Mom, but that was a long time ago.”
“So, why mention her now?”
He let out a deep breath. “We work together. She’s my new co-worker on a large project.”
Her eyebrows shot up to greet her graying hairline. She brought the mug to her lips, hiding an amused grin. “I see. Well, is she married, got a boyfriend?”
He shook his head. “No, Mom, nothing like that. I like her, a lot.”
There, he’d said it, but wasn’t about to go into great detail other than that.
There were some things you just didn’t tell your own mom.
“Ask her out then.”
“I did, but she keeps turning me down. She said it would be too awkward since we work together.”
Then you probably shouldn’t have kissed her either, you idiot.
Damn it, but the woman had been irresistible. The kiss, and more that was sure to follow, was inevitable.
He stood, if only to scatter the wicked thoughts from his mind. He needed to focus, not daydream like some lovesick buffoon.
Out of habit he went to open the fridge and survey its contents. A photo affixed to the fridge door stopped him cold, as chills shot through his spine.
Laura.
A photo of him and Laura, she’d only been around four or five months pregnant. He remembered the lovely spring day at the park, and how she’d glowed. Stunning in a flowing summer dress, and jean jacket. Briefly, he closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. It was their engagement photo. His heart pounded, and heavy dread infiltrated, burned his lungs, and singed his veins.
He opened his eyes and pressed a shaky finger toward her smiling face. Her dark-brown hair wavy, and past her shoulders, and a sunny smile aimed at him, as she gazed into his face. Her deep brown eyes sparkled, pouring out love. He recalled she’d been unaware of the photographer, of anybody else, only aware of him, and with that lost thought, tears misted, and gathered in his eyes, sliding down his cheeks, and he’d lost the battle. His shoulders slumped, and body went lax as he released the handle of the fridge.
A reassuring palm pressed against his back, rubbing back and forth. His mom didn’t speak but offered strength and support.
“Why didn’t God take me instead?” He shook his head, hating the shakiness in his voice. He hated the guilt carried with him too, even after all this time.
He drew his hand away from the photo and covered his face. Humiliation coursed through him for losing his shit.
He could hear her clear her throat.
“I don’t have an answer, honey. It hit us all hard, and we still think of Laura, and our granddaughter, Abigail, often.” The words were spoken softly, but he could hear the quaver, the tears clogging her throat and coating her words.
“Come here, sweetie,” she soothed, turning him gently toward her.
His unborn child’s name spoken out loud pushed him over the edge, and without hesitating, he wrapped his arms around her. The tears fell even more freely, as she continued rubbing his back and offering words of comfort. Emotions, which had clogged his heart, and haunted his dreams, came out as he openly wept. She didn’t speak, and only hugged him tighter.
Finally, the tears abated, and she turned him toward her. Smiling, she brushed the tears away from his face. “Are you hungry?”
Patrick’s stomach answered for him, letting out a fierce growl.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
~ ~ ~
The next morning, Emma set her briefcase down and booted up her computer.
She’d come in earlier than normal, with two things in mind, to attempt to gather her thoughts and catch up on emails. Part of her wanted to ask Patrick out, but another part of her was scared. Absentmindedly, she drummed her fingers on the desk, and looked up in time to see Patrick strolling toward her door with a smile on his handsome face. She noticed how the heather-gray suit wonderfully complemented his solid frame.
“Good morning, Emma,” he said.
Damn this man. Coming back, upsetting the happy balance she’d carved out for herself. He’d come back and turned everything topsy-turvy.
Admit it, Emma. You’re having a great time.
“Hi there, Patrick.”
Entering, he shut the door part way, and took a seat on the edge of her desk. “Look,” he began, staring at the floor and scratching the back of his neck. “I’m sorry things got a little. Carried away a couple days ago.”
The back of her neck burned as flashbacks of how she’d initiated the kiss, grasping his lapels, and forcefully drawing him forward. Even in memory, such thoughts made her pulse beat a rapid tattoo.
“I appreciate that, Patrick, but there is no need to apologize. I’m as much as fault as you are. We both got carried away,” she said, in as even a tone as she could muster.
He smiled as a cuter-than-hell blush stained his cheeks, but he didn’t speak.
Just do it, Emma, bite the bullet.
Before she lost her nerve, she blurted, “Would you like to go out Saturday night?”
Genuine delight came over his features, and his smile grew wider. “I’d love to. Pick you up at six?”
Excitement churned in her belly. “Sounds good. Since we’re both here early, shall we get to work?”
~ ~ ~
Emma double-checked her appearance in the mirror that night. The week had gone quickly, and tonight was the night.
She smoothed damp hands down her little black dress just as the doorbell rang.
Seconds passed, then the door opened, closed, and errant chatter sounded. Spurring into action, she sat at the edge of the
bed, and slipped on her stiletto heels. After grabbing her purse, she opened the bedroom door, and made her way down the hall.
Crossing the threshold, she stopped. Transfixed at the sight of his backside, she took free reign to stare. He wore a white button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up partway, navy-blue slacks, and a black leather jacket. She couldn’t stop staring . . . when suddenly he turned around.
She drew a sharp breath but didn’t remove her gaze. It drifted toward the two buttons, undone, giving her the briefest view of delightfully bare skin. That skin taunted her to walk over, lean in, lick, and savor.
Someone cleared her throat, rather loudly, drawing her attention upward. She met Patrick’s amused expression, and behind him, Sarah, shaking her head and covering a grin.
Oh, joy. The night was already off to a wonderful start. Caught red-handed, staring at him with a no doubt, carnivorous expression on her face.
“Good evening, Patrick.”
He inclined his head. “Emma.”
“Let’s make our way out, shall we?”
With this, they left the apartment, Sarah smiling and waving behind them.
They stepped out into the balmy night, and he went to open the passenger’s side door for her. Thanking him, she slid in, luxuriating in the feel of the cool leather seats.
He got behind the wheel, shut the door, and they were off. Silence engulfed the small space, not even the sound of music to distract. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him, and subtly took a small whiff. The scent of his cologne clung to the air. Turning her gaze forward, she tried focusing on other things. Judging by the route, he was headed toward Downtown Milwaukee.
She watched people on the sidewalk, girlfriends linked arm in arm, an elderly woman walking her dog, a young couple closing the local deli for the night. The semi-warm spring air drawing people out of their homes, as the slowly sinking sun dipped into the blue-pink haze of the sky.
A touch on her knee drew her eyes toward her lap, where she spotted his hand on her knee. Briefly, she closed her eyes. She maintained her silence, for fear of something stupid slipping out. Her breath hitched as he moved a little higher, caressing her thigh. His skillful fingers rubbed back and forth. His touch sent wonderful sensations coursing through her veins.
