by Maggie Way
She opened the dressing room door.
Isobel’s face lit up and she rushed forward. “I can take a couple of tucks here at your waist.” She pinned a spot at Emily’s lower back. “Do you want to try the tulle skirt?”
Speechless, Emily nodded.
Inch by inch, Isobel moved around her, hooking the tulle onto hidden hook-and-eye closures around the waist of the dress. The gossamer layers floated about Emily, dropping well below her knees.
Isobel stepped away. “What do you think?”
Emily touched the lace bodice, interwoven with gold thread and adorned with tiny crystals that caught the light. “I think it’s the most b-beautiful dress I’ve ever seen.”
Radiant joy swept across Isobel’s face. “If you want it, I can cut you a deal.”
“That isn’t necessary.” Emily pulled her gaze away from her own reflection. “Well, I guess I should ask how much it is before I say that.”
Husky laughter trickled out of Isobel. “We’ll find a price you can live with.”
Emily opened her mouth to explain she wasn’t worried about the price when Isobel continued.
“You’ll be doing me a favor.”
“How so?”
“Free advertising.” A blush stained Isobel’s cheeks. “I’m thinking about opening my own store, with my own designs. This is my first dress.”
“You m-made this?” Emily ran her hands over the intricate bodice. “Oh, Isobel, it’s amazing. I insist on paying for it.”
Isobel tilted her head to one side, studying Emily. “It really is perfect on you.”
A tentative smile touched Emily’s lips. The dress was perfect, and her marriage to Luke would be perfect, too. She might not take his breath away, or know how to battle his demons, or even what demons he faced, but she could give him comfort.
A new start.
A family.
Her heart. Even if he didn’t ask for it.
Isobel crept forward. “Those are happy tears, right?”
“Right,” Emily whispered.
When Emily returned home, the sound of voices drifted down the hall to greet her in the foyer. She shuffled toward them and at the library, poked her head around the doorframe to peek inside the room.
Honey stood with her back to the door. “I’m here to see Alistair Thane. Are you him?”
Will glanced up from the chair behind the desk, a cold expression on his well-formed features. “Who’s asking?”
“I am,” Honey said. “He’s purchased something valuable and I’m here to deliver.”
Will’s head bent over the paperwork on the desk. “What are you delivering?”
Honey unzipped her hoodie and let it drop to the floor. She stood before Will in a thin tank top. “Me.”
“Cut!” Max shot from the shadows. “Honey, lose the bra.”
A warning bell screeched inside Emily’s skull while in the corner, Jared and Ian relaxed behind the camera and bulky lighting.
“I knew it!” The plush rug swallowed the sound when Honey stomped her sneaker-clad foot. “I’m the bimbo that gets killed after an obligatory tit shot, aren’t I? Dammit, Max, I told you I wanted to do some actual acting in this movie. I’m trying to go legit here, but so far, all my character has done is make stupid decisions, including her choice of teeny-tiny T-shirts.”
Max held up a hand. “Forget the zombie-slasher thing. We’re going in a different direction.”
A collective groan went around the room.
Honey folded her arms over her stomach. “And what direction would that be?”
“The chemistry between you two is ridiculously hot,” Max said. “Besides, I’ve been thinking we need to take advantage of current trends.”
“Current trends, huh?” Honey’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Which trends are those?”
“S-s-superheroes?” With her outburst, five pairs of eyes swung toward Emily. “S-superheroes are popular.”
Honey turned to Max, her head tilted to one side. “Are there gonna be any superheroes in this movie, Max?”
The desk chair creaked when Will rocked back. “That’d be sick.”
Max shifted his dark gaze from Honey to Emily. “Not that trend. Look, one of the biggest movies in years was an erotic novel adaptation. There’s a large, hungry market for adult romantic dramas.”
Bile rose in Emily’s throat.
Ian’s head stuck out from behind the camera. “Max, man, it’s a little late to start back at the beginning.”
“I can use a lot of the footage we’ve already filmed.”
A skeptical arch lifted Ian’s brow. “You can use cuts from a zombie flick in your, what is it, erotic romantic drama?”
Max’s dark eyes glinted. “The magic of editing.”
Honey was shaking her head. “I didn’t sign up for this.”
“You’re too talented an actress to kill off.” Max’s tone held a hint of impatience. “Not to mention, you’re a million times more believable as a desperate virgin co-ed than an idiot murder victim.”
Honey’s eyes grew huge. “That’s so sweet.”
His upper lip curled. “That’s incredibly sad you think so. It’s also the truth. I may not like you, but I’m not going to lie to you.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Honey muttered.
Max’s expression hardened. “This is business, and we’re all here to make money. Anything else is a waste of time.”
Honey sniffed. “If we’re going to do this, I want a raise.”
Emily crept forward. “If we’re going to do wh-what exactly?”
“Ten percent,” Max said.
“Twenty-five,” Honey countered.
“Done.”
A flash of surprise swept over Honey’s face. “And I want a makeup artist.”
“No.” Max retreated to his chair in the corner.
“If you want me naked, I get a makeup artist. It’s not negotiable.”
“N-Naked?”
“I just gave you a twenty-five percent raise,” Max bellowed. “Hire your own damn makeup artist.”
Instinct screamed at Emily to take cover.
“Think of it as an investment.” An impudent smile curved Honey’s wide mouth. “A few hours of makeup will add value to the final product. You’ll make back ten times what it’s going to cost you, trust me on this.”
Max’s jaw clenched. “Fine.” He headed for his corner. “Lose the bra.”
Pain stabbed Emily’s temples. “Uh, M-Max? Aren’t you supposed to be done filming next week?”
His brows pulled together. “Yeah, uh, we’re gonna need a little more time.”
“How m-m-much time?”
“Can you give me two weeks?”
The old familiar misery slithered through her. She wanted to say no, but she hated to disappoint people. Her whole life, she’d been letting people down. Her dad. Her teachers. Her mom’s doctors. In the end, she’d even let her mom down. She should be used to it by now.
Giving herself a mental shake, she imagined what Luke might say, rejected that idea, and instead tried to think what a professional, fair-minded businesswoman would do.
She visualized, and then she fixed Max with a steady stare. “I need p-payment upfront.”
“No problem.” He started to turn.
“And o-o-one more thing.”
She caught the flicker of unease in his dark brown eyes before it was gone. “What’s that?”
“Promise me you’re not breaking any laws.” She rushed forward with the words piling in her throat. “O-or violating any o-ordinances. Or p-permits.”
“Is that it?” His quick smile made him appear surprisingly boyish. “I promise I’m not violating any laws.”
The day before her wedding, Emily learned a new snow word: lake effect.
She and Luke had agreed to meet at his place for dinner, and she set off early so that she’d have time to stop at the grocery store on the way to pick up fixings for their meal. But while she was i
nside the store, the storm outside worsened.
Winds lashed at her skin with a biting cold, and thick, sticky snowflakes dropped from the sky in a frenzied blur. In her sedan, which she’d leased before driving it in the snow, her knuckles turned white on the steering wheel as her visibility through the windshield shrunk to a few feet in front of the car’s nose. The roads grew treacherous and, as a girl from the desert, she struggled to handle the car in such conditions.
At Luke’s apartment, she saw no signs of his SUV. She sent him a text, and he quickly responded. He’d been held up at work dealing with a surge of road spin-offs and other weather-related crises. He directed her to the loft’s spare key.
For the next few hours, she watched the snow piling up.
Her cell phone buzzed and she moved away from the slider to retrieve it off the dining table. Luke’s number lit up her display screen and she accepted his call.
After giving her a quick update of the conditions, he asked, “Did Haven’s flight make it?”
“She’s stuck at the airport in Chicago. Her flight is delayed u-until tomorrow.”
“We’re supposed to get six more inches tonight, but it should slow down near midnight. You hunkered down there for a while?”
“M-Mina’s going to keep an eye on the inn for m-me.” No way would she attempt the drive home tonight. “Wh-what about you?”
“It’s gonna be another few hours before I can get away. Don’t wait up.”
Later that night, Emily stirred when Luke slipped into the bed. She started to get up, but he clamped an arm around her waist and pulled her back down. He buried his face in her neck and soon the soft, rhythmic sound of his breathing lulled her back to sleep.
When she next opened her eyes, the storm had passed, and through the patio doors, sunlight danced over the mantle of snow, setting off a twinkling display of diamond flecks amidst the unspoiled snowdrifts.
She turned when Luke moved over her. The sunlight caught in his green eyes, turning them brilliant, and the playful messiness of his dark hair pinched her heart.
His calloused palm smoothed up her inner thigh.
“Maybe we should w-wait until we’re married,” she teased.
In answer, he shoved her T-shirt up around her waist and dropped a kiss on her stomach, near her belly button. She pulled the shirt over her head and his hungry gaze devoured her body. While she reveled in his open admiration of her, his mouth brushed over her ribcage, and then, moved lower. The tip of his finger trailed along her slit and liquid warmth sloped through her.
His warm breath rushed over her skin a moment before his mouth pressed against her core. With the tip of his tongue, he tasted her. She gasped with the shot of sensation and her awareness narrowed to the exquisite torture each lick of his tongue lashed.
She rocked against his mouth, moaning, while waves of arousal whipped through her. She buried her hands in his thick hair and held him to her, greedily taking all he gave.
A noise sounded in the far-off distance, but she was too far gone to the feel of his hot mouth to take heed.
His hands gripped her waist, rendering her hips immobile while his tongue massaged and teased. Each soft slide coaxed more sensation, more whimpers.
Then a woman’s voice punctured the quiet. “Honey, I’m home.”
Emily’s eyes flew open.
A curse shot from Luke, and in one fluid motion, he rolled off Emily and tossed the sheets over her naked body.
Emily thrashed to a sitting position to find a beautiful brunette standing in the doorway of Luke’s loft.
“What in the hell are you doing here?” Luke yanked his boxer briefs over his hips.
The woman’s chestnut hair shimmered about her shoulders when she flipped it. “I couldn’t miss the big day. My invitation must’ve been lost.”
A man appeared in the doorway and stepped past the woman.
Luke drew up. “What the hell are you doing here?” He looked from the man to the woman and back to the man. “You did this?” His voice held an edge of barely contained fury.
Even in her frantic state, Emily pegged the newcomer as a Nolan. The youngest brother, Leo, maybe? Though his dark hair was cut short to his scalp, his deep-set, thickly lashed eyes, straight nose, and swarthy skin gave him a marked resemblance to the brothers.
He staggered into the room and collapsed in an armchair. “Help, I’ve been kidnapped.” His head dropped onto the chair back and his eyes fell shut.
“Oh, Lukie, I love what you’ve done with the place.” A gasp slipped from the woman’s painted mouth. “You kept our bed? That’s so romantic.”
Emily’s patience ran out. “Luke, wh-who is she?”
The woman turned her wide-set eyes on Emily. “I’m his wife.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Luke’s hands balled into tight fists at his sides. “Ex-wife.”
A pout turned down the corners of the woman’s mouth. “You make it sound so ugly.”
“You were m-m-married?” Emily couldn’t keep the tremor, or the anguish, from her voice any more than she could control the blasted stutter. “Wh-why didn’t y-you tell m-m-me?”
With a frustrated growl, Luke shoved a hand through his hair. “There was nothing to tell.”
A sudden chill passed through Emily then and she turned her head to find Luke’s brother watching her with changeable green-gold eyes. Like Jack’s eyes, except cold.
“Well, isn’t that interesting,” he murmured.
She clutched the sheet tight to her chest and scooted toward the edge of the mattress.
Vicious lines formed on either side of Luke’s mouth. “How could you bring her here?”
Leo showed Luke his palms. “Last thing I remember I was boarding a flight to this godforsaken state, and the next thing I know, I wake up in the backseat of her car. She brought me here against my will.”
“I can’t believe they let you board the plane when you were that drunk.” A wry smile twisted the woman’s mouth. “You sure made the flight interesting, I’ll say that much.”
Luke swore. “Jesus, Leo, I thought you were smarter than this.”
“And I thought you were a cop. What the hell are you doing leaving the damn door unlocked?”
“Oh, he locked it.” The woman held up a gold metal object. “I know where he hides the spare key.”
Emily’s heart ached and her head followed suit. She pushed up off the bed, but her feet tangled in the sheets she tried to wrap around her naked body and she stumbled.
Luke caught her elbow. “Where are you going?”
His touch burned her skin. “To p-put some clothes on.”
The woman clicked her tongue. “Oh, dear, I haven’t upset you, have I? Believe me, you have no reason to be jealous. Luke didn’t love me.” Her cold blue eyes speared him. “He isn’t capable of love. It was only great sex between us.”
Nausea wrenched Emily’s stomach.
“Get her out of here. Now.” Luke spoke through clenched teeth even as Leo hoisted himself to his feet.
“All right, let’s go.” Leo hustled the woman toward the door. “You’ve had your fun.”
“Leave the key,” Luke said.
The woman concealed the flash of disappointment on her face with a devious smile. “Call me later. We can… catch up.”
Leo hauled her through the door and yanked it shut behind them.
Silence dropped like an anvil. A devastating, soul-crushing anvil, heavy with betrayal.
He’d been married.
Had he lived here, with his wife? Had he really slept here, with her, in the same bed where Emily had been sleeping with him?
He’d been married, and he didn’t tell her.
She’d told him about the guy she slept with three times in college, more than ten years ago, and he didn’t bother to mention he’d had a wife? A wedding, a marriage, presumably a divorce. Any one of those things might’ve warranted a mention.
The betrayal searing her heart, her lung
s, her everything, she gaped at him. Whatever happened to no lying?
Guess that only applied to her. Bitterness twisted.
“Let me explain.” An unsettling soberness filled his voice.
Sick with humiliation, she fumbled through the bedsheets with shaking hands, searching for her discarded clothing. Words piled in the back of her throat. Angry, ugly words she stood no chance of getting out.
“Emily, please.”
She ignored him, yanking on her T-shirt and stupid, trendy jeggings with vicious movements. She careened toward the front door.
He hounded her steps. “Please, don’t go.”
She stepped into her winter boots, but didn’t bother lacing them, and threw open the door.
He caught her arm. “Em.” He peered into her face a moment, and then brushed a strand of hair off her cheek. “Stay. Talk to me.”
A lifetime of frustration and impotence welled up, closing the back of her throat. With the torment, a choked sob broke from her and she plunged out into the frigid morning.
She drove home in a haze while cruel memories snuck up on her. She recalled the time her mom bought her a play-pretend princess gown. Her heart filled with joy, Emily had twirled so that the gown’s skirts billowed out around her. She rushed to show her dad, pointing out to him all the things she loved about the dress and sharing her secret plan to one day marry a prince.
Harrison had frowned down at her. “No man’s going to want to marry a dimwit.”
His words had etched on her heart, and echoed around inside her head as she struggled to make sense of Luke’s treachery.
When she tripped through the back door, Noah looked up from the kitchen table.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. “We can fend for ourselves for a day.”
All she wanted to do was hide away in her bedroom and cry and scream and throw things. “I, uh, couldn’t sleep.”
“Mina was the same way on our wedding day.”
Emily snatched up the box of muffins and tossed them on the dining table with a heavy thud. She returned to the kitchen just as the back door banged open, shattering the quiet.
Luke loomed in the doorway. He wore ancient blue jeans and a black fleece and his chest rose and fell with his labored breathing, as though he’d run to get to her. His eyes burned like live coals.
