What He Didn't Say

by Carol Stephenson

  When Emma-Lee removed her hands from his shoulders, he turned his head slightly. She threw up her arms and laughed with sheer pleasure.

  Then she wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing even closer to him until they were one and shouted, “Faster!”

  He covered her hands with his and knew he would always remember this moment. Then he leaned forward and gunned the motor.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  PENSIVELY, HOLT LOOKED OUT at the once carefully mapped formula of his life. The vision of Emma-Lee holding the toddler on Sunday had thrown new data into the equation, irrevocably changing him. If he was being brutally honest with himself, his life had changed from the moment he had caught her at the New River Gorge.

  His concession came Wednesday as around him his marketing team continued their projections of the expected sales of his new computer game.

  Seated in the conference room for the Atlanta office of HF Enterprises’ latest venture, he gazed broodingly into the sleek laptop’s screen as if it were a crystal ball, searching for answers that his computer for once couldn’t give.

  He’d spent most of his life in the painless, clear world of computerized data. There was no past or future, only the present for him to deal with black-and-white facts and figures.

  However, now instead of numbers he saw only the image of Emma-Lee’s smile. Rather than the game wizard’s voice announcing the player had reached a new level as Holt checked the game for any flaws, he heard only her laughter.

  Face it. After yet another sleepless night he knew he had it bad when he had stood on the balcony of his hotel room watching the sunrise and wishing she was with him.

  He was sure she would know some fascinating fact of how daybreak in Atlanta was different than in any other city. Or recite the city’s history back to prehistoric ages when some molecule changed the course of human events.

  Since he had left her on the doorstep of her apartment in Mooresville, how many times had he thought of her, reached for the phone and pulled back just in time?

  It wasn’t like him to need to hear another’s voice so much. But then again, that kiss in the Coltons’ kitchen wasn’t like him either….

  A terrifying free fall without a parachute into an unknown void of emotional need.

  Physical needs he could handle. He’d always been able to end relationships, usually on good terms, before feelings got in the way.

  Look at how he had broken up with Marguerite after he had returned from the BASE jump. No regrets, no hard feelings. A clean break.

  Like the character he now propelled through the game paces, Holt knew if he continued on this new course, it could only mean disaster. Emma-Lee was a woman who spelled commitment with a capital M, as in marriage.

  What did he know about being a family, a husband or a father? Holt flexed his fingers on top of the keyboard.

  After all, he had only twelve years of memories of being a family unit before his mother’s death to give him any type of foundation. Wanting to be a different father than his own had been didn’t mean he knew how to do it.

  A person couldn’t change who he was, not deep down inside. The survivor technique of using remoteness as a shield between him and the rest of the world had become his sword as an adult. How could he lower it now?

  What did they have in common other than being risk-takers in sports? She had a thirst for life and a love of people. How could he correlate that with his carefully maintained universe of isolation? After two days of meetings, he was ready to escape. Maybe he should go rock climbing, skydiving or any sport that might spur his blood to race more than Emma-Lee. To prove he didn’t need her.

  Right. Might as well sell him some e-stock for a bridge to nowhere.

  So where did that leave him? In uncharted territory, as far as his relationships were concerned. Dinner. He could take her out to dinner. He was good at taking women out to dinner. Like a drowning man grasping at a lifeline, he seized on the familiar.

  Before him lights flared on the laptop’s screen and the game wizard shouted with glee, “Loser, loser.”

  The room fell silent as everyone’s jaw dropped. Never had he failed to gain the mathematician’s cave and gain the secret equation to win. After all, he had invented the game. He rose and gave a rueful grin.

  “Great job, everyone. I think we’re ready to launch. If anyone needs anything, you know how to reach me.”

  He strode out of the room and checked his watch. He could arrive in Mooresville in time to take Emma-Lee out for dinner. Somewhere intimate and quiet where they wouldn’t be disturbed. He nodded with satisfaction. Women like romantic settings.

  Now that he had a course of action, he was anxious to implement it. Nothing more black and white in a relationship than wining and dining a woman.

  A foolproof step for him to take things to the next level with Emma-Lee.

  “SANDY, ARE YOU SURE that you don’t want me to babysit tomorrow night?” Emma-Lee pulled her purse out of the deep bottom drawer of her desk and dumped it next to the gym bag on the floor. She’d already changed into jeans, T-shirt and sneakers.

  “No, Jeff’s parents will watch Emily Rose for us.” Sandy’s excitement infused her voice. When she had called a few minutes earlier, she’d practically screamed the news Jeff was taking her to dinner to celebrate his landing a major basketball contract for a client.

  Funny how something as simple as going on a dinner date could be a major milestone in the return to normalcy in a relationship.

  “I’m happy for you, honey. I’m going to want all the juicy details.” She opened a desk drawer and swept an assortment of pens from the top into it. She closed the drawer.

  “Speaking of details, what’s going on with Holt?”

  “He’s coming to the race Saturday.”

  “And afterward, ummm?”

  “He hasn’t mentioned doing anything.” Like he hadn’t given her any affirmation of his feelings toward her on Sunday. She knew he cared for her, but it would be nice security to have the words.

  “Keep me posted.”

  “10-4. Talk to you later, Sandy. I’ve got to go.” Emma-Lee disconnected.

  “Hey, Emma-Lee!” The Double S receptionist, Connie, waved as she walked by. “You’re going to the go-kart challenge tonight, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I’ll be there in a few.”

  Shortly after noon a frenzy of e-mails had sped through Double S headquarters. Someone had bragged about their time at the local go-kart track. Another had responded he could beat the time any day. Pretty soon it appeared that Double S employees were the all-star champions of the universe when it came to go-kart times. There was only one way to settle who was fastest, and the challenge was on for tonight. Emma-Lee had a very important bet with one of Rafael O’Bryan’s team members she was determined to win.

  She checked the phone display for any messages that may have come in while she was in the restroom. Nothing. Gil was holed up with the Double S crew chiefs, so she could leave. On cue the phone rang and with a groan she picked up.

  “Um, Emma-Lee.” Connie sounded distracted. “You have a visitor. He says he doesn’t have an appointment but assured me you would see him.”

  “Is that right?” Sighing at the possible delay, she straightened the desk pad on top of the desk. After two days with neither a call nor an e-mail from Holt, she was more than ready to blow off some of her doldrums by bumping cars.

  Since when had she ever moped over a man? She had always lived in the moment. Normally she wouldn’t hesitate over calling a guy, but she’d caught a remote, shuttered expression in Holt’s eyes when he’d left her Sunday after a very chaste goodbye kiss. What an anticlimax it had been to the wild motorcycle ride.

  She was pretty sure the loner had gone into full retreat like a tortoise into his shell. As she wasn’t sure what to do about that mind-bending, toe-tingling kiss in the kitchen, maybe she should leave well enough alone until Saturday.

  “Emma-Lee, are you there?” C
onnie’s voice snapped her back to the job at hand.

  “Yes, Connie. I’m here. What is his name?”

  “Holt Forrester.” Connie’s voice lowered and came over the line muffled. “Emma-Lee, you’ve been holding out on me. He’s yummy!”

  “I’ll be right out.” Emma-Lee hung up. The news that Holt was here sent her system humming with nerves. Why was he here? Why hadn’t he called?

  She picked up her bags and slung them over her shoulder. She hurried down from the executive suite to the front. Connie gave her a slight wink as she strolled into the reception area.

  At the vision before her she halted, her breath backing up. Holt stood in profile as he studied a poster of one of the race cars. Slanting rays of the late-afternoon sun glazed him like one of those golden Greek gods she had studied when she had been in her “going to teach mythology” stage.

  He wandered to the next poster, his gaze intense as he studied it. What would it be like to have him look at her with such focus in the hush of the night or in the early hours of dawn?

  He glanced over and saw her. His eyes heated up and a slow smile curved his lips.

  Oh, yeah, just like that for every day for the rest of her life. She wiped her suddenly sweaty palm on her jeans and amped up a smile.

  “Holt, what a surprise. Weren’t you supposed to be in Atlanta all week?”

  He approached her, so close she had to tilt her head up. “If you’re finished here for the day—” his gaze flickered to the bags she carried before returning to her face “—I would like to take you to dinner.”

  A bona fide date. Hadn’t she been wishing for precisely this? She opened her mouth to say yes, when she heard Connie clear her throat behind her. She gave the receptionist a glare over her shoulder, and the other woman threw up her hands. “I’m leaving, I’m leaving. See you at the challenge…or not.”

  However, Connie’s interruption had served its purpose. Not only had Emma-Lee promised to go, but she also had a wager she needed to win.

  Holt’s eyebrow cocked. “Challenge?”

  “We’re having a friendly race with go-karts tonight. Some serious trash talking went on today about who had the fastest time.” She took a deep breath. “I’m committed to do one race.”

  He reached out and traced the curve of her cheek. Her skin heated from the simple touch. “Can’t you skip the racing? I’ve already made reservations.”

  Meaning he had assumed she would drop everything to go out with him. She was so not going down the path where she would put her life on hold, hoping that he would come and see her. She could never respect herself, let alone expect him to respect her, if she became a doormat.

  She tilted her chin. “No, I can’t. I made a promise. If you had called me, I could have saved you the trouble of coming here.”

  His mouth thinning, Holt dropped his hand.

  Guilt immediately assailed Emma-Lee. He had flown here after all. “Of course, you’re welcome to come with me to the race. With all the people going it should be a blast.”

  “Afraid to be alone with me, Emma-Lee?” he asked quietly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Every time we’re together, we’re surrounded by people.”

  There was safety in numbers, particularly when you could be in over your head. “Not everyone lives in a vacuum, Holt,” she retorted.

  Amusement lit his eyes. “True, but no couple can survive in a three-ring circus. Is it wrong that I want to be alone with you, to get to know you?”

  “No, but you can’t expect me to drop my life when it’s convenient for you. What if I had come to Atlanta and interrupted one of your meetings?”

  “You already did,” he muttered.

  “What?”

  Dull red flags spread across his cheeks. Holt hitched a shoulder. “Nothing. So if I go to this challenge then you will spend time alone with me?”

  Enchanted with his obvious discomfort, Emma-Lee lifted on her toes and lightly brushed her lips across his. “Sounds like a fair compromise. Let’s go. I only have to run one race.”

  “Two.” Holt’s arm snuck around her waist and drew her close. “You don’t think you’re going to get away with not racing me?”

  She splayed her fingers across his broad chest and laughed. “You’re on.”

  Less than an hour later Emma-Lee put on a helmet. The whine of motors filled the enormous building as people pushed go-karts to the max along the serpentine tracks. Standing close by, Chad, a mechanic on Rafael O’Bryan’s team, did likewise. He tipped his fingers in salute and she nodded in return.

  Frowning, Holt stepped in front of her and fastened her chin strap. His fingers lingered, tilting her face to his. She recognized the gesture as a man staking out his territory, but she didn’t mind. Instead, a thrill streaked through her.

  “What’s with the deal with the other guy? Why are you racing him in particular?”

  “A bet. If I win, he’ll let me know when Rafael O’Bryan is in the building so I can set up the interview.”

  He lowered his hand and she quickly stepped into the car and sat down. The light was sequencing for the next cars to go.

  Holt stood behind the line with hands planted on his hips. “And if you lose?”

  She kept her eyes on the light. “I pay for dinner at Maudie’s.”

  “What?”

  The light flashed green and Emma-Lee and the other driver surged forward. Go-kart driving wasn’t about physical strength; it was all about focus, timing and reflexes. She didn’t look at the car keeping pace with hers around the first curve. She concentrated on the handling of the kart and mentally played the track course in her head.

  Easing into the start of the curve, speeding up as she shot out, gunning on the straight stretches. The roar of the motor, the strain of the metal as the go-kart hurtled forward. It was all about the track and how fast she could drive. Then the car careened around the last corner and the finish was in sight. She let the car go all out and in the last moment she glanced over and knew victory was hers as she sped across the line ahead of Chad’s kart.

  After she brought the car to a halt, she clambered out. Looking around she spotted Holt grinning in the cheering crowd and he gave her a thumbs-up.

  Holding his helmet, Chad approached with his hand out and they shook hands. “Congratulations, Emma-Lee. The deal is for a week, right?”

  “One week. If Rafael is in the building, you’re to give me a call, nothing more. I’ll take it from there.”

  Chad rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Yes, ma’am. I don’t suppose I can throw in treating you to dinner at Maudie’s tonight?”

  Emma-Lee handed her helmet to the attendant, her gaze locked with Holt’s as he advanced toward her. “Sorry, but I have other plans.”

  Holt gave her a quick hug and then draped his arm around her shoulders. “Savor your win while you can.” He guided her toward the line of waiting people. She said goodbye over her shoulder to Chad before turning her attention back to Holt.

  “Hey, what’s the hurry? Closing time isn’t until ten.”

  “The quicker I beat you in this race, the sooner we can be at the restaurant where I can stare deep into your eyes and tell you how beautiful you are.”

  Emma-Lee stubbed her toe, but Holt steadied her before she could pitch forward. Beautiful? He thought she was beautiful?

  She tossed her head. “You’re just trying to distract me.”

  His mouth curved. “We don’t have a bet yet.”

  “Bet?”

  “Yes, since you all are so into competition, shouldn’t we also have a stake?”

  “Okay.” Think of something safe. “Winner springs for dinner?”

  Holt shook his head as they stepped nearer to the front of the line. “Nope, I was thinking something a little more personal for my side of the bet.”

  She swallowed. “How personal?”

  “If I win, I get a walk with you and a kiss in the moonlight.”

  Her stomach
jittered. She knew where such an evening might lead. It would entail another risk of her committing to Holt that could lead later to heartache.

  Wait a minute. She was safe. No way was she going to lose to him, because she was on a hot streak.

  She laughed. “You’re on. Be prepared to ante up for a huge steak, for tonight I am one with the track.”

  EMMA-LEE’S BEING “one with the track” had abandoned her mid-race with him. Recalling her look of chagrin when he had shot past her on the last lap to the finish line, Holt suppressed a smile as he strolled hand in hand with her along the nearly deserted street in Mooresville.

  Having guts and instincts were one thing; he had observed those qualities in her as she had raced the other man. However, knowing mathematically the precise moments to slow and accelerate had given him the ultimate advantage. That, plus his almost desperate determination to win.

  Being magnanimous in victory, he had treated her to a superb steak dinner in a restaurant dripping with intimacy, from the wood-paneled walls, to the dim lighting, to the unobtrusive service, as he had secured one of the secluded booths.

  Candlelight had wrapped its cozy glow around them as she told him stories about her parents and sisters. Still, no matter how discreet the waiter had been, no matter how hidden the booth had been, the low murmur of voices had been a constant reminder that other diners were present.

  Upon exiting the restaurant, he’d drawn her along the sidewalk of Main Street. A nearly full moon rode the wave of stars blanketing the night sky. Emma-Lee lifted her face and drew in a deep breath. “I love the scents of spring.”

  When she turned her head, her eyes held that feminine gleam of awareness. His mouth dried and suddenly, all the things he’d planned to say scattered. Here he’d plotted to have her to himself and now he couldn’t form one damn word with his tongue.

  “Uh, do you like living here?” Great. That rated in the top all-time romantic conversational starters with a woman.

  Then Emma-Lee shifted closer, curling her free hand around his upper arm. The moonlight highlighted the sweet curve of her face as she nodded.