Popcorn!
Pulling out a packet of microwave kettle corn, she tossed it in the microwave and got out a cold can of soda.
That’s when she spotted the string cheese. It was protein and that was nutritious, right? Snagging a stick, she placed it on the counter before reaching for a bowl for the popcorn.
“Should probably eat the cheese first,” she reasoned, opening it up and taking a bite. Within minutes, her freshly popped kettle corn was in a bowl, the cheese was gone, and she had an icy cold can of soda in her hand. Living the dream.
In the living room, Emery sat, reaching for the remote and immediately turning to Netflix without glancing at the regular cable channels. She wasn’t in the mood for a movie, but binge-watching something could be fun. As she scrolled, a slow smile crossed her lips.
The Office.
Yes. That’s what she needed. A comedy to take her mind off this miserable day—miserable life!—and make her laugh and relax. A little wackiness should do the trick. Settling in more comfortably, the bowl of popcorn in her lap, Emery decided to start at season one, episode one and enjoy the ride.
Four episodes later, the popcorn was gone, the soda was gone, and the urge for something chocolate was strong.
One of the bakeries she had stopped in earlier was famous for their black-and-white cookies, and as she opened the box and pulled one out, she could see why. It was perfect—it smelled amazing and she knew it was going to taste even better.
Because no cookie should ever be eaten without milk, Emery poured herself a tall glass and settled back in to enjoy the last two episodes of the first season. It was like sitting with a bunch of old friends who were trying to cheer her up. It was dark outside and with only one small lamp lit, it made for a very cozy atmosphere. When her snack was finished, she reached for the afghan on the back of the sofa and wrapped it around her as she reclined.
When Netflix asked if she wanted to start on season two, she figured why not?
By the third episode, her eyes were heavy and she was losing the battle to stay awake. Why fight it? I’ve got nothing else to do. By then, time had lost all meaning and it would take too much effort to see what the actual time was. It was dark, she was tired, and that was really all she needed to know.
Normally, silence was her preference for falling asleep, but tonight there was something comforting in hearing other voices around her.
Did that make her crazy or pathetic? Hmm…
It made her sleepy. Very, very sleepy. With a low hum, Emery felt herself beginning to drift. A door opened and closed in the distance and as her mind was begging her to go to sleep, she had to wonder what was happening in the scene because the sound of the door seemed so completely out of place. Her eyes refused to open, forcing her to listen to the scene a little more closely.
Only…she couldn’t focus. Exhaustion was pulling her under and she couldn’t fight it any longer. A yawn escaped and with her next breath she smelled something wonderful. Something delicious—and she hoped it was going to be a dream about food. Not that she was hungry, but food dreams were almost as good as sex dreams.
Mmm…sex dreams.
She’d had a few of them over the last week, and all of them had starred Carter.
Mmm…Carter, food, and sex. Now that was practically the best dream she could imagine.
Was there a way to encourage the dream to start? In her mind, she envisioned a shirtless Carter cooking dinner for her. Yeah, definitely shirtless. He’d smell fantastic and he’d feed her with his hands…those magnificent hands. She moaned as she could practically feel his finger on her tongue.
“Mmm…Carter,” she purred.
“Emery?”
Hmm—he didn’t sound as turned on as she did, though he looked it, she thought. Somewhere in her subconscious she knew something wasn’t quite right, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. He said her name again and Emery felt herself coming more awake, losing hold on the images she desperately wanted to hang on to.
“No,” she moaned. “Not yet…”
Then she felt a hand on her shoulder and it was enough to jolt her to full wakefulness. Her eyes shot open, and there before her sat the man who just moments ago was seducing her with his bare chest and talented fingers.
And he didn’t look the least bit amused.
Chapter 4
Five hours ago, Carter had been sitting on the beach enjoying the view and feeling completely at peace.
Then his mother had called and shot all that peace to hell.
It wasn’t her fault, he knew that, but once she had told him about the call she had gotten, he was beyond tense. Then she told him about her conversation with Emery and he was back in his house getting everything he needed to make the long drive back to the city. Even though he’d flown there on Monday, it would have taken too long to find a flight back. Driving his rental car made the most sense and gave him control over his schedule.
During the entire lengthy drive, Carter’s mind was going. His mother was calling a lawyer to see what she could do to help protect Emery’s privacy, and he was proud of her for doing that.
That led him to consider calling his own attorney to get a second opinion. Might as well let the man do something, since everything else had fallen into place in the last week and there were no more fires to put out. All of the permit issues had been resolved, the construction was finally starting, and Carter’s presence in Montauk wasn’t all that necessary.
And while he was thankful how everything had worked out, it left him at odds with what to do with his time. There was no reason for him to take the extended break he had originally planned, but the idea of going back to work wasn’t nearly as appealing as he thought it would be. He was enjoying the peace and quiet and the slow pace of life. He had extended his lease on the house.
Carter had taken to sitting on the beach with his tablet and reading in the mornings before going for a swim in the private pool the house boasted. Going into town each afternoon to shop for food had allowed him to experiment with some recipes, and he was feeling great. Creative. Happy. Relaxed. And just when he’d decided to embrace this sudden vacation, all hell had broken loose in Manhattan.
Not going to Emery wasn’t an option. As soon as his mother described the way she had sounded on the phone, Carter had sprung into action.
He’d analyzed his sudden protectiveness of her for the last hour of the drive and hadn’t come up with any answers.
Now he was here, sitting on the sofa, trying to wake her up. Not very hard, mind you, but still…
Then she’d said his name in her sleep. A throaty purr that had him envisioning other ways to wake her up. Sexier ways. Unfortunately, he realized almost immediately how wrong that would be and how this certainly wasn’t the time for something like that. He remembered the horrified look on her face last week after he’d kissed her and wasn’t particularly anxious to see if that was a one-time reaction or not.
Better to keep his distance and not find out.
Still, the sound of her saying his name in her sleep was—
“Carter?”
Beside him, Emery was slowly coming awake. Her voice was sleepy and slightly confused—as if she wasn’t sure she was really seeing him.
“Hey,” he said softly. “Sorry to wake you.”
Lazily, she sat up. The afghan that had been covering her dropped to her waist as she stretched and yawned before looking at him. “What are you doing here?”
Okay, so her sleepy voice was an obvious turn-on. Carter scooted a little farther away from her and cleared his throat. “Um… I heard about what happened earlier.”
“You did?” Her brow furrowed with her question and she looked completely adorable. “How?”
“My mother called.”
“Oh.” He knew immediately that she was embarrassed. Her head dropped forward and he co
uld see the flush to her cheeks.
Without thinking, he reached out and tucked a finger under her chin and gently lifted her face so she was looking at him. “You okay?”
For a moment he thought she’d put on a brave face and tell him everything was fine. It was how things always seemed to be. Even when she was struggling with something, Emery never budged an inch—as if she thought showing that side of herself made her weak. He was prepared for it and was ready to tell her it was okay to be upset.
Then she surprised him.
Wordlessly, she shook her head and tears formed in her eyes. He cursed the bastard responsible for making one of the strongest women he’d ever known look this sad and defeated. So yeah, he reached out and pulled her into his arms and held her as she cried. For now, she needed this. Maybe she had cried earlier, maybe she hadn’t—but right now she was and he was going to let her do it.
They sat like that for several long minutes, and when Carter felt her moving away, he pulled back and held his breath.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, wiping her face. Letting out a long breath, she studied him. “I held it together as best I could and swore I wasn’t going to cry again, but—”
“Hey,” he cut her off, “it’s okay to vent. I think you’re more than entitled to.”
Shaking her head, she stood and walked to the kitchen.
He followed.
And wished he hadn’t.
Besides the half-finished cans of soda on the coffee table, popcorn bowl, and crumbs on the living room sofa, he saw the remnants of multiple snacks along with bakery boxes—one of which was still open. Good Lord, did the woman ever eat a sensible meal?
Not the time to focus on that.
She pulled a bottle of water from the refrigerator and handed it to him before grabbing one for herself. Without a word, Emery took a long drink before looking at him again and when she did, she let out a weary sigh. “Okay, I think I’m better now. Sorry about that.”
“We already covered it. You don’t have to apologize.”
“Agree to disagree,” she murmured, walking back to the living room. “What time is it?”
“Almost ten.”
With a gasp, she faced him. “Seriously?” She shook her head as if to clear it. “Wow. I thought it was later.”
There wasn’t anything he could say, so Carter waited.
Once she was seated and seemed a little more awake, she reached for the TV remote and shut it off. “So…why are you here? I didn’t think you were coming back to the city.”
Crap. Out of all the possible dialogues that ran through his head on the drive here, none of them dealt with how he’d answer that question.
“Um, well…” He shifted in his seat and studied the bottle of water in his hands. “Okay, here it is.”
She looked at him with wide eyes and a serious expression, and Carter’s mind went blank.
“Carter?”
Right. An answer. “I talked to my mother about what happened earlier,” he began, “and I don’t think you should go to the courthouse on Tuesday.”
“You don’t?”
He shook his head. “No. I don’t.”
Her shoulders sagged. “Oh.”
“Here’s the thing—you don’t need to do it. It’s not going to benefit you in any way, Emery. It’s not like you’re going to voice your support of Derek, right?”
“Right.”
“So then, why do it? Why go?”
“Because it’s not fair to put your mother or the residents of this building in the kind of position I’m being threatened with. I don’t want a media circus out front. That’s why I came here, because there was a media circus on my front lawn!” She threw her head back against the sofa. “If I go, then maybe I can get my point across that I’m done.”
“Or…”
She lifted her head and looked at him, curiosity written all over her face. “Or?”
“Or you get your own lawyer who will block anything they try to drag you into and…and come with me to Montauk.”
All of a sudden, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He waited for her to tell him he was crazy or that his idea was stupid or…argue for the sake of arguing.
But she didn’t.
She didn’t say anything.
And her silence was almost as irritating.
“Why—” She stopped and cleared her throat. “Why would I go to Montauk with you? I mean, I appreciate the offer, but—”
“Clearly, we still have work to do on the cookbook, right?” he asked, effectively cutting her off.
“But you said you were too busy. That you had problems with the construction on the new restaurant and didn’t have time to work on this.”
“Yeah, well… Things sort of righted themselves faster than I thought they would and now I’ve got some free time, and I know you need to work on this project and now you need a place to stay and—”
“Carter?”
“Hmm?”
“You’re rambling,” she said with amusement.
With a huff, he said, “I know.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Look, we’ve known each other way too long and you’ve never once been anything other than an overconfident jerk most of the time. You never hold back on what you have to say to me, so why are you starting now?”
Good question.
“Can’t I just be nice?” he snapped and then instantly regretted it.
Until she smiled.
The evil, condescending smile she usually gave him.
“I wouldn’t know,” she said sweetly. “Based on our history, that is.”
“I was never mean, Emery.”
“No, but you also weren’t particularly nice. You were smug and sometimes out-and-out rude. So you’ll have to excuse me for not knowing what to make of all this.”
He stood and paced a bit. “You need a place to stay and I need to finish this damn cookbook and get my mom off my back. There! Satisfied?” he yelled.
Judging by the look on her face, she was.
Very.
“If I go to Montauk,” she began carefully, “you’ll seriously put in the effort to work on this book?”
“Yes.”
“You realize we’re running out of time—the book has to be ready for the first of December so it can be sold through the holiday season.”
“I’m aware.”
“And you’ll need to do everything I say so we can get this done. With no arguing.” She batted her eyelashes at him in a look of pure innocence, but he knew her better than that.
“Within reason,” he countered.
“Define reason,” she said with a smirk.
“Considering the fact that the kitchen looks like a frat house did the food shopping, you have to accept that any of your suggestions on recipes will not be taken seriously. You know that, right?”
“Hey!” She jumped to her feet. “There is nothing wrong with my taste in food. Just because I don’t eat a snooty meal every night doesn’t mean my suggestions are going to be bad!”
He stepped in close—toe to toe—and asked, “Did you have any normal meals this week since I’ve been gone?”
“I’ve had pizza—”
“No, no, no—a real meal, Emery. Something you cooked yourself. Something with a meat, a vegetable, and a starch—you know, a balanced meal.”
She eyed him defiantly. “That’s just your definition of a balanced meal. Technically, it describes my pizza. It had pepperoni and green peppers. Meat and vegetable, all served on a starchy crust.”
She had him there. But…
“Was it a frozen one? Because they don’t count.”
“Stop making up food rules!” she cried, stomping her foot. “Your way isn’t the only way!”
“All the people who eat at my restaurants would disagree,” he replied smoothly, taking a step back.
“You are so damn smug,” she muttered. “You couldn’t pay me to eat at one of your restaurants!”
Okay, that one was hitting a little below the belt. “Challenge accepted.”
“What?” She looked at him like he was crazy, and clearly, he was.
“I bet that by the time we’re done with this book, you’ll be so enamored of my cooking you’ll be begging for a table at one of my places.”
Emery laughed long and loud. When she calmed down a bit, she looked at him with amusement. “Carter, you don’t have any restaurants here in the city, and there is nothing you could possibly make that will have me getting on a plane to New Orleans or Florida or wherever else you have a place to eat a meal.”
He shrugged. “We’ll see.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.”
“Why don’t you go and pack and we’ll get going,” he suggested.
“Carter, I was asleep just a few minutes ago. Can’t we leave early tomorrow morning? You just drove three and a half hours to get here. We’re not in a rush to get out of town, are we?”
A couple of hours of sleep sounded pretty good right now, he thought. “No. We’re not in a big rush, but I’d like to get on the road as early as possible.”
“Why? Do you have a meeting or something tomorrow?”
“No, but I’m a bit of a morning person and I’d just like to get back to the beach as soon as possible. It’s what kept me sane all last week, and after this conversation tonight, I’m desperate to get back.”
“No one asked you to come here,” she said defensively, crossing her arms over her middle. “I was handling everything.”
He opted not to argue.
“I know you were,” he said evenly. “Can we just agree to get on the road before eight? This way we can get a good night’s sleep. Okay?”
“Can I ask you something?”
He nodded.
“Why the beach? I mean, isn’t it a little too cold to be anxious to get back to it?”
A Dash of Christmas Page 9
