by Fiona Miers
How did she do that and why hadn’t he seen it in anyone else before?
“There’s a burger place around the corner that’s really good.”
He stared at her and concentrated on keeping his jaw firmly shut. If he’d been a cartoon he could see his mouth dropping open and his tongue rolling out onto the ground.
She was a woman who was being taken out for dinner by a man who would pay for just about anything she wanted, and she requested burgers?
To use his grandmother's old one-liner, blow me down with a feather.
“Sure.”
What else could he say? He hadn’t eaten a burger in more years than he cared to remember.
The elevator dinged open and Emily stepped inside, hugging her briefcase to her chest with a wobbly smile.
He chuckled and stepped in beside her, letting his shoulders drop down as his body began to relax into her company.
“Nervous, Emily?”
She squeaked and jumped away from him a little.
A chuckle rumbled out of his throat as he rocked back on his heels. He wasn’t going to jump her again in the lift, the mood wasn’t right for one thing and the last thing he wanted to do was give her more ammunition to fire at him. He was going to need his wits about him as it was.
“I don’t want to cross any more lines.”
He laughed aloud at that one.
“Really? Well, keep those hot lips on that side of the lift and we’ll be fine.”
“Oh!” The indignant noise and the sound of the briefcase dropping onto the floor made him smirk, but he didn’t glance her way until the doors dinged open once again.
“Lead on, Emmy.”
She lifted her nose in the air and stomped out of the lift.
His lips kept on smirking as he followed the princess through the glass doors and onto the street.
“It’s this way.” She nodded to the right and they walked side by side along the sidewalk, the city now out of peak time had a nice hum to it without the busy traffic noises.
They turned right, left, then moved up a small alley Nathan had never seen before.
Emily stopped suddenly and then pushed open a wooden door with no sign on it.
“After you.” Nathan held out his hand and she bobbed a short curtsy before giving him a smile and heading into the restaurant.
A sense of relief swam through him and he frowned, searching through his feelings for why that one had surfaced. He stepped into the brightly lit restaurant and followed Emily to a small booth when he realized that he’d been worried that she’d take his joke in the elevator seriously.
Wow. Since when do you care so much about how a woman feels?
“Can I get you something to drink first?” The bubbly waitress hurried up, took their drink orders and bustled away again.
“It’s busy.” And cheap.
Emily looked around with a smile. “Yeah, it’s always buzzing. I’ve come here a few times and I’ve never seen it empty.”
“You already know what you’re having, I suppose.” He pointed to her closed menu and she gave him a sunshine-type smile.
“Yep.”
He glanced down the menu and when the little hippie waitress spun by again he ignored his normally strict protein intake and ordered the biggest burger and fries combo he could find. With Emily he was eighteen again, so he may as well eat like it too.
“You’ll love that. I shared it with a friend last time we were here. If you don’t eat it all, you can take it home.”
The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and he straightened his spine. Sharnie, his girlfriend in University use to sound like that. When she was being nice, she giggled and spoke with that happiness vibrating from Emily.
The next scene flashed into his mind. The screaming, the pain in his hands, his face. Never wanting to be his father. Never…
“What’s with the good girl act, Emily? I have to ask you. Seriously. Does everyone buy into this routine?”
“What?” Her tone was confused, and a little wounded.
He turned his eyes away, his neck aching from the strain he was putting on the muscles.
“Look…I think I’ll go.”
“No.”
Nathan’s hand whipped out and grabbed her thigh, holding her to the seat. “You want me to come to your stupid party on Saturday night? You’ll stay and have dinner with me.”
Her fingers grabbed hold of his hand and pried his grip from her thigh. He could have held on of course, but he let her go because he was doing the wrong thing.
“Mr. Johnson. You are insulting me and confusing me. I suggest you work out what the hell you want and get back to me.”
She swung around and jumped off the stool, walking straight for the door of the restaurant.
“Fuck.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, his hands shaking as they lay on his thighs. What the hell was wrong with him? He tossed some cash on the counter.
“Emily. Wait!”
He headed out after her, reaching her as she hit the main road. “Stop. Please.”
She whirled on him, her mouth grim and her eyes fiery. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Seriously! I have tried to be nice. I’ve tried to be professional. I’ve tried not to let my natural distrust of men make me hate you because I think what you’ve achieved and who you are, are pretty bloody amazing. So why?
She screamed and began charging down the street again.
He took off after her, a weird smile tugging up his lips as his belly twisted with a strange laugh. She was an odd creature. Honest, brave, a little naïve and beautiful in her wildness.
His hand reached out for her arm once again. “Emmy, please wait.”
She whirled to face him and he swallowed a groan at the spectacular picture she made before him. Her cheeks were slashed with color and her eyes were bright.
“You have to be the most unique woman I have ever come across.”
She growled a little in anger between her clenched jaw and he bit the bullet to grovel. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. And stupid.”
“Why don’t you believe I am who I am? I’ve never lied to you. Not once! Even when I had to tell you about my stupid father.”
She broke off with a weird choking sound and a strange tightness spread across his chest. “I meant what I said. I am sorry. Sometimes you remind me of someone I once knew, and it brings out some old, bad memories. It wasn’t your fault.”
He reached up a hand and cupped her face, unable to stop himself from touching her.
She glared at him but didn’t move away, huffing at him. “You know I should hate you for turning on me all the time. I never know if I’m dealing with Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde. Nate, Nathan or Mr. Johnson. It’s not fair.”
Something happened at that moment he hadn’t experienced in sixteen years. The unbelievably strong urge to say I love you to a woman. The words flowed through his subconscious and to his lips and he grabbed her and pulled her close to stop them from exploding out.
She moaned against him as he crushed her body to his, prying her lips open with his own to taste her sweetness again.
He kissed her gently once more and then pulled away, not wanting to add too much to his list of transgressions.
She stared at him, her pink lips shining in the evening light and her eyes wide.
“I don’t get you at all.”
He smiled, shrugged and thrust both hands in his pockets. “You don’t need to.”
“I don’t want to go out for dinner anymore, Nate. I’m exhausted.”
Her shoulders drooped.
“It’s fine. I’ll walk you to your car.”
“Okay, thanks.”
They turned right and began to walk, a strolling pace that suited him well. They could talk a little.
****
Emily reached up and grabbed the elastic band wrapped around her bun, tugging and pulling at it until she undid both the bun and the ponytail, the pain across her skull easing as she sh
ook out her hair.
“Ah, that feels better.”
“You look beautiful with your hair down.”
Emily rolled her eyes and slid a sidelong glance at the man walking beside her. She wasn’t touching that one. She knew she wasn’t beautiful, but she didn’t want to get into an argument with him about it, so she focused on what she actually wanted to know.
“We have about five minutes until we reach my car, so it’s my turn to talk.” She bit her lip. There was nothing to lose now. She’d practically spelled it out to him how much she liked him. “No, I’ll beg. Please do a speech for us on Saturday night? Ten minutes, that’s all we need.”
He blew out a breath and started kicking the sidewalk like a four-year-old ruining his shoes. “And what do you want me to say?”
Whoa, he’s thinking about it! Stay calm.
“Tell people why you started Eleanor’s House and they’ll be happy. You’re the only reason that so many women are independent and are able to live their own lives now.”
And I think they should know who you are so they can thank you.
“I don’t like questions. I don’t want the thanks.”
Damn.
His voice was far too icy. She’d never get anywhere with him in this state of mind.
“Fine, just come and I’ll do a speech thanking you. How’s that?”
He stopped in the street and she whirled to face him, raising her eyebrows in silent question.
“You’ll stand up in front of everyone and thank me for building Eleanor’s House?”
“Yes, of course.”
His headshake was almost violent. “No, thank you. I’ll come, but I don’t want any acknowledgment.”
“I can’t do that. It’s all about Eleanor’s House and you are such a big part of that.”
His jaw clenched. He looked away towards the building with his name on it.
“Keep it professional, Emily.”
She waited for him to look back at her and risked a small smile at him. “But you said Eleanor’s House was personal.”
He practically growled at her like a bear with a sore paw, the sexy rumble coming from his chest.
“I know I did... but…oh, for fuck’s sake, Emily.”
He glared at her, both hands on his hips as he did his obvious best to appear scary.
“Okay, okay, nothing too personal. Got it.”
They’d reached her car so she gave him a smile and got inside, watching him as he walked back to his car at the company carpark. She’d sidestepped the issue so that he’d think she’d given up, but inside her brain she was plotting for Saturday night. She was convinced that if she got Nathan to accept the praise he was due, she’d be able to get past all the bluster and coldness. There had to be a real man beneath the façade. Surely?
Chapter Seven.
Emily spent all day on Saturday at Eleanor’s House, setting up tables, cleaning windows and blowing up balloons. They had next to no money to decorate but they’d all put in and had given a real party flavor to the large common room that served as a lounge room for the women who lived at Eleanor’s House.
“I can’t believe you’ve got the owner coming to the party!” Tiffany, a young woman who only recently came to stay at the charity house, bounced around the room.
Emily laughed and grinned at the girl who brought joy with her wherever she went. She, like all the others, did not deserve what fate had served up.
“He’s more the founder than the owner. But yeah, Nathan Johnson’s coming tonight.”
Tiffany danced out of the room and Cindy stared at her with wide eyes. “I can’t believe he’s coming either. I’ve worked here for six years and I’ve barely seen him.”
“Wow, really?” Emily asked as she set up cups and plates.
“What’s he like?”
Oh, how to even begin to describe Nate.
“Ah... hmm... he’s arrogant, smart, two-faced and ...”
Cindy chuckled and handed her another lot of cups. “Sounds charming.”
“Oh, he’s that too.” She winked at Cindy and her friend laughed.
“You sound as though you like him.”
Oh, I do. But only one or two of his personalities. Not all of them, and that’s the problem. “He’s hard to hate.”
“Why would you want to hate him?”
“I mean… I always try to maintain a professional distance.” Now she was embarrassing herself. Stop talking! Her face was burning up.
“Uh-oh, you really like him!”
Oh, God. Leave me alone.
“Oh, shush.”
Emily finished party preparations, rushed home and got ready, her excitement pumping through her so fast she could barely feel her feet touching the ground. She turned once in the mirror to make sure she hadn’t inherited wings, but she has relieved to see they were obviously still invisible.
If everything went to plan, she’d be giving someone a special gift tonight.
****
Nathan swallowed hard, the awkwardness of the lump in his throat paling in comparison to the amount of tightness in his chest. He’d never been inside Eleanor’s House.
Ever.
He’d drawn the designs for the building, spent a year raising the money and fighting the council, but in eleven years since the conception of the project, he’d never walked through the front doors.
He took one shuddering breath after another, his gaze magnetically drawn to his mother’s name, which hung above the large steel-enforced doors.
He’d wanted a safe haven for these women and that had meant top security from the outset.
A large man stood at the door with a clipboard.
He stepped up, clearing his throat. “Nathan Johnson.”
The burly security guard nodded once and opened the door for him.
One more quick breath and he stepped inside, the atmosphere of heat, too many people, and happy music hitting him with the strength of a boxer’s glove to the gut.
Wow. His eyes roamed up and down the walls. He was glad to see that the architrave was as detailed as he had once drawn. So much of it was how he had designed it, but the entrance was bigger than he had imagined. They’d strung up some cheap streamers and taped up some balloons too. He stood in a central welcoming reception area with many doors that lead to two main hallways, and if he remembered correctly, there should be a large lounge at the back of the reception. That’s probably where they’re holding the party.
The doors behind the reception burst open and Emily emerged, laughter and modern radio music accompanying her like a cloud of happiness.
“Nathan!” She hurried forward with a huge smile on her face, her simple black and white halter-neck dress accentuating her spectacular figure.
The tightness in his chest returned with the squeeze of a boa constrictor.
“I’m so glad you came. I was worried you wouldn’t. Come on in.”
You have no idea how close I came to not showing up here tonight. Or ever…
She tucked her hand into his elbow and gently ushered him forward. He let her lead him—didn’t seem much point in fighting her.
They stepped through the doors and the scene before him made his heart rate race. Women everywhere. And children. Everywhere.
More brightly colored balloons and streamers adorned the walls, and tables of drinks and food lined the walls. It looked like a kid’s birthday party. One he’d never had but had always longed for.
“I know it's not ritzy or anything, but…”
“It’s great, Emily. You guys have done an amazing job.”
She gave him another brilliant smile, squeezed his arm and then ran off to talk to some other women, leaving him alone in a sea of uncomfortable happiness.
He didn’t know what he was doing and for the first time in a very long time, he didn’t have Martine to co-ordinate him or a speech to cling to.
His throat tightened, his palms sweated.
“Hi, I’m Cindy. You must be Mr. Joh
nson.”
Nathan turned towards the older blonde who had approached him, her kind face ringing a bell in his head.
“You can call me Nathan, Cindy. You’re the coordinator of Eleanor’s House.”
She inclined her head gracefully. “I am, and it’s been an honor to work for your foundation, Nathan.”
He smiled back but had nothing else to say. It had been a long time since he’d had a hand in the hiring of the staff here. He couldn’t remember a thing about the woman in front of him, except that she did a great job of running everything.
Women jostled around him and he felt the snake around his chest squeeze tighter. He’d set this charity up ten years ago, raised money to run it and accepted people’s accolades for his philanthropic approach to life. But those thanks had been from women with too much money, or those wanting to jump into his bed.
Not those that were actually in his mother’s situation and required help.
He took another deep breath.
“Are you all right, Nathan?”
He nodded but Cindy continued to peer at him with a knowing look, then dragged him towards the drinks table, pouring him a glass of water and pressing it into his hands. “Please drink, you look like you need it.”
Nathan downed the water in two gulps, releasing a breath as the cool liquid slid down into his belly. “I’m all right. Thank you.”
“You don’t enjoy crowds?”
A chuckle escaped him as he stared at the woman in front of him. How had no one else ever picked up on that except her? He made a mental note to increase her salary. This woman deserved praise and a raise. She was obviously very good at her job.
“No, I don’t.”
“Well, we’ll start the speeches soon, and you’ll be able to leave straight after if you want. I’m sorry I didn’t realize that you weren’t comfortable in these sorts of settings, or I would never have pushed Emily into getting you here tonight.”
So another thing to thank Cindy for. He hadn’t given a thought to the driving force behind why he and Emily had been spending so much time together, and why she’d allowed herself to be talked into so many dinners.
