by Sami Lee
Emily blinked at her sister. “What do you mean?”
“You and Brand. There’s enough tension there to build a suspension bridge.”
Emily rose from the table and transported the cups and plates they’d used for lunch to the kitchen sink. The activity gave her time to strip the emotion from her voice. “Nothing’s going on. Just ordinary couple stuff.”
Like I caught him kissing a man. That’s ordinary couple stuff, right?
“The two of you have never been an ordinary couple.”
Emily turned to face her sister. She ran her gaze over Hope’s super short blonde hair, the row of earrings in her ears and the rose tattoo that peeked out above the low-rise waistband of her jeans. “Since when has ordinary been the standard as far as you’re concerned?”
Hope’s lips twitched. “Point taken. I’m just checking on you, sis. You’re always looking after me and Penny, making sure we have everything we need. It’s time we started doing the same for you.”
A tightness took hold of Emily’s throat. Her voice came out raspy. “Hope, that’s so sweet and thoughtful of you.”
“Ack. Don’t bloody cry about it.” Hope grimaced. “This is why I don’t tell you things.”
“You don’t tell me things because you’re afraid you’ll shock me.”
“That too.” Hope brought the condiments they’d used over to the kitchen counter and slid them toward Emily, who put them away in the cupboard. When she turned back, Hope was leaning her elbows on the counter, watching her with eyes the most unusual blue-green that Emily had ever seen. “Seriously, sis. If Brand has stepped out of line, I’m perfectly willing to sock him one.”
“You couldn’t take him.”
“I may be small, but I’m scrappy.”
“Don’t I know it.”
They’d gotten into more than one physical altercation in their growing years. Born prematurely, so prematurely she’d spent the first month of her life in a humidicrib, Hope had always been small for her age. But she made up for her lack of stature with a wealth of attitude and a never-say-die mentality. She also had a mean uppercut. By comparison, Emily “fought like a girl”. She’d never been a match for Hope.
“So…?”
The confession was on the tip of Emily’s tongue. The urge to unload her anguish, to have someone help her make sense of it, was strong. But this was Hope, and Hope already didn’t trust Brand. Emily’s instinct to protect him, as misplaced as it might be under the circumstances, was stronger than her need to talk. She smiled and ruffled Hope’s hair, knowing how much that would annoy her. “I’m fine. Stop worrying.”
Hope scowled and finger combed her hair back into its spiky style. “Watch the product, Em. I could always sock you instead of Brand.”
“You planning an attack on me, Hope?”
They both turned at the sound of Brand’s voice. He was standing in the hallway. He must have gotten caught in the drizzle while out on his ride, because his shirt clung damply to his large frame and a sheen of moisture glistened on his neck. Emily responded to the sight of him with a rush of heat and a throbbing at the juncture of her thighs. He was so damn big, so sexy. The fact they hadn’t had sex in almost four days left a hollow ache inside her.
Jet thinks he’s sexy too. Jet throbs and aches for him, and it seems to be mutual.
“You tell me,” Hope responded to Brand, cocking a hip and planting a hand on it. “Do I need to teach you a lesson about something?”
Emily groaned. “Hope…”
“Maybe.” Brand brushed aside Emily’s attempt to stop her sister and came farther into the room. He held Hope’s gaze with his steady gray one. “I hurt your sister. I didn’t mean to, but it happened. I’ve apologized, but she’s not ready to forgive me. What do you think? Would you give me a second chance?”
Hope considered him in silence, perhaps as stunned by his earnest announcement as Emily was. Brand always kept his cards close to his chest, especially around her family. To see him display this level of honesty with Hope, who’d always been his most vocal opponent, left Emily speechless.
At length, Hope said, “I suppose that depends.”
“On what?”
“On how much you’re willing to grovel.”
“As much as it takes.” Brand turned from Hope to Emily, repeating his vow as his eyes settled on her. “As much as it takes, sweetheart.”
The constriction in Emily’s throat intensified, making it hard to swallow. She stared at Brand, her eyes stinging and her pulse pounding. Inside she was a riot of motion, yet she remained rooted to the spot in the kitchen, frozen by the look of determination in Brand’s eyes.
“Well, that’s my cue.” Hope’s voice came to her as though from far away. “He starts calling you sweetheart and I’m done. Talk to you later, Em.”
Emily tore her gaze away from Brand long enough to mutter a goodbye to Hope. Then she turned her attention to the sink, where she robotically rinsed the mugs and plates they’d used for lunch. The roar of Hope’s jeep starting up and then climbing through the gears as she drove it away accompanied the sound of water sloshing over crockery.
All the while Emily felt Brand’s eyes upon her. When they were alone at last, she sensed his approach. Despite his damp state, his body heat reached out to her. When he placed a hand on her shoulder, Emily stiffened, every sense going on full alert.
“Will that help, Em? If I grovel and beg your forgiveness? Because I will if it’s what you want.”
Emily couldn’t speak, too confounded by the idea of Brand groveling to answer his question. In response to her silence, he lowered to his knees behind her. His big hands splayed on her hips, sending heat darting to her center. Then he inched her shirt upward, leaned forward and pressed his cool lips to the exposed flesh of her lower back.
Emily trembled as he repeated the maneuver again and again, his lips growing warm from the contact with her fevered skin. Brand moved upward, placing whispery kisses along the indents of her spine, tracing the shape of her hips and waist with his fingers. All the while rasping the same two words over and over.
I’m sorry.
When his fingertips grazed the underside of her breasts, Emily turned to liquid fire. Her muscles seemed to melt, but when she sagged Brand caught her. He stood once more and turned her so she was cradled in his arms. She couldn’t look away from the raw expression of painful regret on his face.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said again, stroking her face with one hand while anchoring her body to his with the other. “I love you. Can you forgive me?”
“Brand…” Emily’s voice trembled. She loved this man so much that it was impossible not to be moved by his sincere apology. Yet when he touched his lips to hers, it was Jet she saw him kissing in her mind’s eye.
With Jet he’d been rough, conquering. With her he was gentle, his lips as soft as silk as they covered hers, his tongue politely questing as it sought entry to her mouth. Emily drove her fingers into his short hair, urging him closer as she offered herself up. He deepened the kiss, but denied her what she craved.
She wanted the same desperate hunger she’d seen him display with Jet. She’d always sensed it in him but he’d never unleashed it on her. Why not? Why Jet and not her?
Emily moved her hands to his shoulders, started tearing at his shirt. She wanted it off. She wanted him naked and thrusting hard inside her. To telegraph her needs, she rocked her hips, rubbing her denim-covered mound against the bulge behind Brand’s damp jeans.
Jet had rubbed against him like that, and Brand had groaned with a wild hunger she’d never heard come out of him before.
Brand tore his mouth away from hers. “Let me take you to bed.”
“No. Here.” Emily nipped at his lower lip. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders. “Fuck me here.”
“Em…”
Brand dove back into kissing her, but Emily sensed his reluctance. Impatiently, she grabbed his wrist and brought his hand to her breast. Her aching nipple stabbed at his palm even through her shirt. With a muttered epithet, he massaged her flesh, teasing the tortured peak to even greater hardness.
Emily arched into the caress, arousal reaching fever pitch. She popped open two of Brand’s shirt buttons, desperate for skin-to-skin contact. His chest was warm and damp, thick with toned muscle. She shifted her hand downward, ripping open two more buttons so she could touch his abdomen.
When she moved lower and reached for the snap of his jeans, Brand blocked her progress by wrapping his hand around her wrist. He pulled out of the kiss, his breathing ragged. “Wait, Em. Let me make love to you properly.”
“Properly?” Arousal sharpened to annoyance. “You mean slowly, in a bed.”
Brand stroked her cheek, like she was a horse he could calm. “What’s wrong with slowly in a bed?”
“It’s not what you wanted with him,” Emily snapped and swiped Brand’s hand from her face.
“Jesus, Em.”
“It’s true, isn’t it?” Emily shoved at his chest until he let her go. He didn’t hesitate to step back and give her space. Such a God damn gentleman. His gentility ticked Emily off further. “What would have happened if I hadn’t been here the other day? If you and Jet had been alone in the house, would you have taken him to bed? Or would you have bent him over the kitchen counter and fucked him improperly, the way you won’t fuck me?”
Brand’s voice grew quiet. “That’s enough, Em.”
Emily ignored the warning in his tone, too far gone to pull her punches now. “Do you want him more than you want me? Or is it just men in general you feel more passionate about? Hell, a few days ago, I didn’t even know you were…” She trailed off as she realized she didn’t even know which assignation applied. She assumed Brand was bisexual, but for all she knew she was the first woman he’d ever been with. Was he gay? Had their whole relationship been an experiment on his part?
A lie?
Emily stared across the kitchen at the man she loved—or thought she loved. How could you love a person you didn’t even know? “I can’t do this anymore.”
The color leeched out of Brand’s cheeks. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t pretend it’s okay that I don’t know anything about you. We can’t work like this.”
“So tell me what you want to know.”
The words were issued blandly, but behind his impassive expression Emily sensed the turmoil inside him. She saw it in the way his pulse pounded at the base of his throat. He was offering to answer her questions, but he was terrified of what she might ask. That fear would keep his emotional walls sturdy. Whatever he told her would be a half-truth, something he cleaned up before he gave it to her.
Like his lovemaking. Always slow and sweet and wonderful, but always restrained. Not raw or jagged or real, like that kiss he’d shared with Jet. That was the real Brand, and he’d been hiding it from her.
He’d been hiding from her, but not Jet. Jet knew the truth about Brand. And after the way he’d fleeced her, Jet owed her.
If you ever need to talk. That’s what he’d said. At the time Emily hadn’t thought she’d want that.
Now she was glad she’d kept the paper she’d screwed up and thrown at him.
“I have to go.”
“Where?”
Emily didn’t respond. She marched to the door and plucked her corduroy jacket off the hook beside it. She grabbed her keys and handbag, a battered old thing that looked more like a miniature backpack.
She opened the door, but Brand called her name, halting her hasty exit.
Pausing on the threshold, she glanced back at him. His shirt was open from when she’d yanked at the buttons. His chest gleamed in the afternoon light, and his steady gray eyes held hers. In spite of their argument, Emily’s knees went weak.
At length, he said, “I’ll make something for dinner.”
It was his way of asking her to come back, of saying he’d be here when she did. The last thing Emily could think about was sitting down to a normal meal with Brand, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell him not to bother cooking. He’d hurt her, yet she was reluctant to hurt him in return.
That pissed her off enough that she said nothing at all before stalking out and pulling the door shut behind her.
Chapter Eight
Jet was huddled inside his thick black rain jacket, his camera beneath the portable tarp he used in wet weather, his attention keenly focused on the craggy outcrop of Leyton’s Headland as he saw it through the viewfinder, when his mobile phone rang.
He didn’t usually have it on while he was working but in this instance there’d been no potential of scaring off wildlife with his “Born to Be Wild” ringtone, so he hadn’t bothered to switch the phone off. He let it ring a few times while he took the shot he’d lined up, then he pulled the device out of his inside jacket pocket.
He didn’t recognize the number, but some instinct made him answer, anyway. “Durante, here.”
“Hi. It’s Emily.” There was a pause while Jet waited for his pulse to recover. Then she added uncertainly, “Brand’s Emily.”
“I knew which Emily.” He’d recognized her voice from the first word. And he could never forget who she belonged to. “I was just…I was taking a photo.”
“Oh. What of?”
“The headland with the storm clouds closing in on it. There’s lightning out on the horizon. It’s spectacular.”
“Sounds like it.”
There was another awkward pause where neither seemed to know how to continue the conversation. Then Jet remembered what he’d told her before he’d left last Sunday. If you ever need to talk. Evidently, she’d rethought her initial rebuff of his offer. “Where are you?”
“In a place called the Beach Break Café.”
Which was in the main street of Leyton’s Headland. It’s where Jet had taken to having breakfast because the coffee was amazing. “I’ll meet you there, buy you a coffee.”
“I’m sort of coffee’d out, actually. I’m in the mood for something stronger.”
“I have wine at my place,” Jet said, thinking that whatever Emily wanted to talk about it, a noisy pub was probably not the best place for it. “Do you know where Azure is?”
“The big blue apartment complex, right?”
“Right. I’m in room twenty-one. I can meet you there in fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll be there.”
She hung up without saying goodbye, a not-so-subtle reminder that this was not a simple social visit. Jet remembered Emily being bubbly and liberal with her sense of humor. Her distant tone made him hyperaware of how the cold weather had infiltrated his flesh.
No less than what you deserve. He’d kissed her boyfriend. Jet figured he was lucky she was speaking to him at all.
He repacked his equipment in the waterproof backpack-style camera bag he used, strapping it securely to the back of the bike. More than once he’d considered trading in the Electra Glide and investing in a more suitable vehicle for himself, but he decided against it every time. There was nothing like the thrill of speeding down country highways or hilly coastal roads on the Harley. He couldn’t give it up even if it made no sense.
Which was a great metaphor for how he felt about Brandon Walker.
He’s Emily’s now. You told her you’d walk away, and you’re going to keep your word. And when you see her you’re going to beg forgiveness for all the shit you brought down on her relationship.
When he got back to his rented apartment, she was already there. She wore fitted jeans with faded patches at the knees, a red and white checkered shirt and a chocolate-brown corduroy jacket, the collar turned up to ward off the afternoon chill. Her hair was in the same braid it had been in when he�
��d met her. Jet wondered what her hair would look like unleashed from that sensible style, the locks curving around her face, falling through his fingers.
He must have a death wish or something. He was attracted to her again—or was it still? Either way, it was undeniable. He could hardly make out her feminine shape beneath the bulky jacket, but it didn’t stop his hands itching to trace her curves.
If Emily guessed the turn of his thoughts, there was no reciprocation in the malignant look she cast him as he approached. “Are you going to take him from me? Is that why you’re here?”
Jet arched a brow, trying to cover the way he flinched inside. “What, no hello?”
“Hello, Jet. Did you come here to take Brand away from me?”
“I’m in Leyton’s Headland to photograph the coastline.”
Emily simply continued to stare at him, letting him know how full of shit she thought he was. Which made her a damn smart woman. Jet stifled a sigh and pulled his keys from his jacket pocket. “I think you’d better come in.”
Inside the apartment was almost as cool as it was outside, so Jet picked up the remote for the reverse-cycle air-conditioning unit and switched it to heat. The warm air blew into the room, giving instant relief from the chill. Jet took off his damp jacket and hung it on a hook behind the door. Then he turned and watched Emily tour around the living room.
She came to the balcony doors, which revealed the stormy sea beyond the complex. “Nice view,” she remarked. “Was it worth the trip?”
Jet admitted, “I am here to photograph the coastline. But I found out where Brand was living first, then I pitched this assignment to Geographic so I’d have an excuse to be in the area.”
“So you did come here to reconnect with him, even though he was with me.”
“No. I didn’t know about you.” Emily turned to look at him askance, and Jet moved farther into the room, until he stood only a few feet away from her. “He writes my mother letters, not me. He told her he was working at Mulholland Homestead, that’s all. I didn’t know he was in a relationship until I met you on Saturday.”
