by Rose Lange
His brain went numb, and he couldn’t stop staring.
Shaking his head, he took another hearty swig of the now lukewarm coffee and waited. Moments later, she appeared in the doorway, a tight smile on her face.
He knew something was off. She didn’t have to say a word for him to know that. Her body language was guarded, the opposite from last night, and the heat was absent from her deep-blue eyes.
Patrick stood. “Good morning, Emma.”
“Patrick.” She gave a curt nod and shut the door partway behind her.
Taking a seat opposite him, she set her things down. Every movement seemed devoid of the playful, sexy, and vivacious Emma, the woman who breathed fire and ached for his touch.
Today, it was all business Emma.
“Okay, let’s get started. I’ve come up with more ideas I’d like to implement—”
He placed a hand over hers, and she stopped in mid-sentence.
“Is anything wrong?” she asked.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“What I mean is, stop trying to pretend like last night never happened. Or for that matter, the night at your apartment didn’t either.”
A cute-as-hell blush stole up her neck, bathing her cheeks, but she kept a straight face. “I’m not pretending, Patrick.”
“Like hell you’re not. What’s changed since last night, Emma?”
Not moving his hand, he continued to rub, back and forth, and watched as her eyes fluttered closed. Emma didn’t need to speak. Her body did all the talking as she tried to fight a battle within herself.
Opening her eyes, she met his, but did not speak.
Her body spoke, from the light, thready breathing, to the way her chest rose and fell, and the slight flush to her cheeks. He stood and walked to the other side of the table. Leaning forward, he braced his arms on either side of her seat.
“Patrick, I just think we ought to, ought to, slow down. I think it would be best,” she said, her voice breathy.
“Why?” he asked against her lips.
“Because we work together.”
“You’ll have to come up with a better reason, sweets.”
Shaking her head, she used both hands and pushed at his chest. He awkwardly stumbled back.
She walked to the opposite end of the table and grasped the top of one of the chairs, her face neutral as she tilted her chin up. “We need to slow down, Patrick, please. That’s all I ask.”
~ ~ ~
An awkward, but productive work day ensued after that near miss in the conference room.
Emma knew she needed time alone after work to clear her head, and lucky for her, she and Sarah had driven separate vehicles this morning.
After shutting her computer down for the evening, she grabbed her briefcase, slid her phone into her purse, and headed out. Thank goodness, she didn’t see Patrick as she made her exit.
Twenty minutes later, it was smooth sailing on the interstate, until traffic inexplicably stopped. She turned on the radio news station, listening as the announcer spoke of a multiple vehicle accident in her exact location.
Great. Now I’m stuck here, and so much for an evening of recouping alone.
Resting back against the seat, she imagined the coziness of it, a blanket draped across her legs, an old Friends re-run on TV, and her favorite Chinese or Mexican take out spread out on the coffee table. An ice-cold tea beside it, but now it looked as though this would be her hangout for a while.
~ ~ ~
Patrick dialed and re-dialed Emma’s phone number for the hundredth time that evening, and still it went straight to voicemail.
Worry clawed away at his insides, painfully churning his stomach, as he next tried Sarah, but she was out to dinner with a friend about an hour away and had not seen or heard from Emma since leaving work.
That was more than three hours ago, and after learning of the multiple-vehicle car accident on the freeway, declaring at least three people dead, he’d become sick with worry.
Picturing Laura, all over again.
Hands shaking, he tossed his phone on the couch as fear tightened his throat. He couldn’t continue to sit here and feel helpless.
Mind made up, he drove to her apartment, all the while imagining he’d never get to see her again, never get to hold her again, never get to tell her how he felt about her.
Never get to apologize for the past.
Fifteen minutes later, he pulled into her apartment complex. Relief as he’d never known coursed through him. Her car was parked in its usual spot. Fear then turned to annoyance.
He didn’t care if it was 9:33 at night. Here he stood, in front of her apartment door, ready to make a fool of himself and damn it, he didn’t care.
Knocking several times, he heard a soft scuffle, before she greeted him.
She brushed a lock of hair away from her face and rubbed her eyes. Her sun, moon, and stars bathrobe half untied, her bare legs in boxer-like shorts, and a tank top. My God, she looked absolutely adorable.
“Hey, what brings you here?” she asked.
“I tried calling you, Emma. Why didn’t you answer?”
“Oh, my phone was dead, and I just got home an hour ago. I didn’t get a chance to charge it. No big deal. Uh, come on in if you want.”
He entered the apartment, silently shutting the door behind him, and realized he needed to keep his cool.
“Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”
Okay, that’s not the best way to keep your cool now, is it, Patrick?
Slowly, she turned and shot him an inquisitive glance. “What are you talking about?”
Realizing he sounded more like a spouse than anything else, he tried to put his senses back together. “The fucking car accident on the interstate. I thought you were . . . hurt.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m fine.”
He didn’t say another word as he walked toward her and held her close. Her warmth wrapped around him, infusing his heart and soul with heat he’d not felt in a long time.
“Patrick, are you okay?”
Before he faced her, he wiped the moisture gathering in his eyes. He did not want her to see him this way. He didn’t want her pity, sympathy, or anything else. He’d had enough pity over the last several years after losing Laura and the baby. He hated being pitied. Fucking hated it.
Finally, he turned to look into those sea-blue depths, and his body relaxed.
“I’m fine,” he lied, kissing the top of that cute button nose.
Drawing her face within his hands, he leaned his forehead against hers, and realized he didn’t need anything else. Not even a kiss. Merely the knowledge of her safety was enough solace.
He noticed her eyebrows knit together, her eyes shadowed in concern. “Patrick, are you sure you’re all right?”
Afraid his voice would surely give him away, he nodded. “I’m fine.”
Then he stepped back. He wanted to stay the night, to feel the comfort of her lying next to him. He wanted intimacy, but not the sexual kind, the healing kind, the kind that would soothe him, mind, body and soul.
“Goodnight, Emma, I’ll see you in the morning.”
She cocked her head. There it was. That same inquisitive stare, as if she could read him and knew his secrets.
However, she remained silent as she walked him to the door and opened it. She propped her curvy hip against the frame and drew him back. Stepping closer, she surprised him by placing several mind-bending kisses to his mouth.
She caressed his face with that delicate hand and stepped back. “Goodnight, Patrick.”
God knew how, he took a deep breath and walked away.
Ch
apter 11
“Where was I when all this happened? Geez, must’ve been out like a rock. I didn’t hear a thing.” Sarah sat back in the booth, grabbed her coffee cup, and shook her head. “Wow.”
“Yeah, wow is right.”
Emma finished the last sip of her honey-lemon tea.
Last night, after Patrick’s unexpected arrival, sleep had been impossible, because every time she closed her eyes, his face appeared—etched with worry, fear, and something she couldn’t place.
One thing was for sure, and if she wanted to keep her sanity intact, a wall needed to be erected. Her feelings for him couldn’t cloud her judgment again.
Hell, no.
“I’m at a loss as to what to tell you, Ems. I’m sorry.”
Emma shrugged. “It’s okay, really. It just feels good to get this off my chest. I appreciate you listening.”
Sarah smiled. “That’s what friends are for, lady.”
She and Sarah spent the next twenty minutes talking about work projects, weekend plans, and for a time, Emma thought about something else other than Patrick. It felt nice.
Another fifteen minutes passed before Emma realized how late it was. Sarah pitched in her half of the bill and they made their way out.
Emma slung her purse over her shoulder, and only then did it hit her. Her briefcase was missing.
Damn it, she’d left it back at the office. Normally, she didn’t bring work home, but lately they’d been on a roll. She liked to keep her notes nearby.
“Shit.” The soft curse slipped out before she could stop it.
“What’s the matter?”
“I forgot my briefcase at work. I’ll head back and catch a cab home. Don’t wait up for me.”
Sarah pursed her lips. “I don’t see why it can’t wait until morning but go ahead. And be careful. I’ll see you soon.”
Fifteen minutes later, she swiped her card and made her way into the semi-lit office building. The cubicles were covered in shadows, their owners gone for the day.
About halfway to her office, she halted in her tracks. Patrick sat in the conference room. She slunk back into the darkness of a cubicle.
Air swooshed out of her lungs as Nina suddenly stepped into view. The woman stood over him and pressed herself indecently into his back. Leaning closer, and hell, if she leaned in any closer they’d both land on top of the table.
Patrick’s stance shifted, and his shoulders tensed.
Shielding herself further from view, Emma’s mind wandered to dangerous territory as the nauseating scene unfolded. Was he was sleeping with Nina too?
Finally, he stood up and his voice grew louder, but still, she could not make out the words.
Emma’s eyes widened as she watched Nina lean in and press her lips to his. Grabbing on to her belly, because she’d surely lose her dinner, Emma shut her eyes tightly. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.
Opening her eyes, she found them standing apart once more. Patrick forcefully removed her arms and took a step back. Again, his tone elevated, but still the words were not entirely clear.
Nina had finally given up, and within moments, the door to the conference room flung open. Emma squatted so as not to be seen. The soft beat of retreating footsteps sounded, followed by a jab of the elevator button, and suddenly, all was quiet.
When she felt it safe, Emma pulled herself together and approached the conference room. She slammed the door behind her, facing off with Patrick, who wore a puzzled, but wary expression on his face. She didn’t know where she would go with this, but here she was anyway. And there was no going back now.
Rationally, she knew he’d blown off Nina’s advances. Emotionally? Jealousy burned hot and raw in her chest, and she wasn’t thinking straight. Anger erased everything logical in her mind.
“Patrick. Working extra hours, I see?” she asked, unable to keep the sarcasm out of her tone, but she didn’t care.
As if he could see through her façade, he shot her an inquisitive stare.
The green-eyed monster, ferocious and on fire, stomped on what little was left of her wall.
“Emma.” He continued to study her.
She straightened her shoulders. “I see you were a little preoccupied with Nina. Excuse me.”
The moment she turned her back, he grasped her arm and turned her toward him, bringing them face to face. Her equilibrium shook, and her once-steady pulse thumped wildly. The ferocious heat staring back at her made her forget everything.
That was it.
Damn him for having this effect on her.
Will it always be like this? Will I ever be free of this beautiful man’s spell? Let’s face it, Emma. You’re a hypocrite, a failure.
First, she’d told him she’d wanted to go slow, and now this? Her actions, and words, belied her words, tenfold.
It couldn’t be helped. She recalled the look of concern on his face last night, and how he’d driven over just to make sure she was okay. He’d surprised her at every turn.
“There is nothing going on between me and Nina,” he bit off.
She huffed. “Haha, very funny, Patrick. I saw you two just now, and believe me, she wants you.”
He cocked his head. “She kissed me, and it meant nothing.”
Fear of giving more away, Emma pressed her lips together, because the idea of someone else kissing Patrick made her blood heat, and like a dog marking its territory, she wanted him for herself. She didn’t want anyone else to see him naked, or wake up to sexy, sleepy smiles, to bask in his warmth and comfort.
Awareness crossed his features. “Wait a minute. You’re jealous.”
Releasing herself from his grasp, she blindly took several steps back until her bottom hit the edge of the table. She dropped her purse with shaky fingers. “I am not.”
He stepped closer, and her train of thought slowly slipped away. Gently, he cradled her face within his palms, and caressed her cheeks. The pad of his thumb enticingly rubbed her lower lip. His eyes trained on the spot, and she could see it. Just like her, he battled an inner fight too.
“I thought you wanted to go slow, Emma.”
She kept her lips sealed, because, hell, she couldn’t deny it. “Yes, I did say that,” she said, her voice hushed.
The last pathetic thread of her self-control unraveled, slipping further and further away. The wall crumbled, even if she tried to keep her distance, tried to draw a line between them, despite all that had already transpired. She tried to convince herself she didn’t still have feelings for him, but it was too late.
She’d grown addicted.
I hate this.
“Then why the sudden change?”
His voice pierced her thoughts, forcing her to look at him. She furiously shook her head, and her fingers tightened against the table. The longer she focused on his face, the more her knees shook.
“I don’t know.” As feeble as it sounded, it was true. She did not have an answer for him.
As though to read her mind, he closed the space between them, and pressed his mouth to hers.
Helpless to fight back, she gave in. Allowing the adrenaline, the rush of sensations to course through her. She realized where this would lead. He would make love to her in this very conference room, and she didn’t care.
She wanted him.
Open-mouthed and needy, she kissed him like her life depended on it.
One hand cupped the back of her head, deepening the kiss, while his other hand slipped down and settled at her hips. The intoxicating tease of his mouth, combined with the way he touched her, caused her body to tighten in places that needed desperate attention.
She grasped his waist and cocked her head, greeting his tongue, because she could not get enough. Savoring the sweetness, her belly flut
tered as he fought back, matching her hunger with his own.
Without breaking contact, she jumped onto the table, and he followed. Becoming ravenous, he broke the kiss, and nipped at the exposed skin on her neck. Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes, and thrust her fingers in his hair. The hardness between his legs pressed intimately into her stomach.
The air in the conference room crackled and popped. The space enveloped them, like a private cocoon, where only she and Patrick existed.
Wild with need, and screw the consequences, as jealousy, anger, and confusion, melded together. Right now, she wanted Patrick. Her heart, body, and mind rejoiced. Close, but never close enough it seemed, as she gave in to her flights of whimsy. She wished she could crawl inside Patrick and stay there.
“Emma.” The heady sound of her name on his lips a sweet litany and, oh Lord.
She could feel herself sink further into the abyss that was Patrick.
Opening her eyes, she found him staring.
“Patrick.”
Mere seconds passed before he possessed her mouth again, kisses that sent a new spiral of ecstasy coursing through her. She scooted a little further up on the table and kicked off her heels. His eager fingers lowered to her waist and hips, urging her closer.
Grasping the underside of her bottom, he lowered his head, and gifted wet, smoldering kisses to the skin above her breasts. She needed more, and needed it now.
“This damn shirt is in the way,” she said.
An amused chuckle reverberated in the shell of her ear, but she focused on her task. Her fingers made haste, unbuttoning and removing her blouse, before she worked on her bra next, chucking the garments aside, until she was naked from the waist up. The cool air of the office couldn’t be felt under the heat of his intense gaze.
She didn’t think twice before removing his suit jacket and unbuttoning his shirt. For fear of losing her nerve, she kept her eyes focused on her task, roughly divesting of his tie. She grasped the bottom of his white T-shirt and sent it over his head before tossing it aside.
