No Denying You

by Sydney Landon

  Before he could ponder the strange feeling of disappointment that had crept in at that thought, he saw Emma racing toward him with a huge smile on her face. He rose to his feet, rooted in place. She reserved that genuine smile for her friends. Any smile bestowed on him was of the sarcastic variety. He had never been the recipient of the real thing from her. He cleared his throat, ready to launch the first verbal bullet when she threw her arms around him. What the fuck?

  “Oh my God, I made it! My taxi driver almost left me because I forgot my panties and someone hit someone else and we got stuck in traffic. Whewww!”

  Brant stood frozen in shock with her in his arms. She had her body curved tightly to his with no sign of letting go. When she started making sniffing noises against his neck, he pulled back.

  “Mmmm, you smell so good. You always do. I could just eat you up.”

  What had gotten into her? He didn’t know how to react. He may have been frozen in place, but his cock wasn’t. It was standing at attention, desperate to get closer to the female curves still pressed against him. “Emma . . . is something . . . are you . . . drunk?”

  She finally stepped back out of his embrace, giving him a lopsided, glassy-eyed smile.

  “’Course not, silly. I haven’t had anything but water today. My dentist told me, nothing cold or hot.” Looking adorably confused, she added, “So what am I supposed to do? That covers everything.”

  He was starting to feel as confused as she looked. He knew she had had a dental appointment, but had assumed it was for a cleaning. “What exactly did you have done today? Emma . . . Emma, can you focus for a minute?” She looked up from her inspection of the buttons on his shirt. “Did you have a cleaning appointment today?”

  “Nope.” She shook her head vigorously for extra emphasis. “I got a root thingie done.” Then tears gathered in her eyes as she added, “It really hurt.”

  He was starting to get the picture now. Just how much nitrous oxide had they given her? Shouldn’t it have worn off by now? She looked like she was as high as a kite. God, he was glad she had called a taxi. “Emma, maybe we should cancel this trip and get you home. I don’t think you’re in any condition to fly.”

  The tears that had gathered in her eyes before now started flooding down and he placed both of his hands on her shoulders for support. “Please don’t leave me. I already told everyone that you’re coming. If you don’t, I’ll have to deal with my family on my own.”

  As he prepared to convince her, the PA system announced the final boarding for their flight. Apparently, he had missed the first announcements. In surprise, he watched the tears stop and her head come up in determination. She waved her ticket in her hand and wobbled toward the attendant. Shit, if he didn’t go with her, she would probably get thrown off the damn plane by an air marshal.

  He reached her, sliding an arm around her shoulders to steady her. “Are you sure about this?”

  Giving him a blinding smile, she said, “Yep. Let’s do this.” Really, if he had any sense he would listen to the voice in his head screaming a protest, and he would have turned and run the other way. Instead, the protective instinct he was born with reared its head and he found himself walking down the corridor toward the door of the plane with her securely under his arm. Once she put her head on his shoulder, he felt something unfamiliar inside of him flicker. Get a grip, man. This is no different from helping Ava would be. You don’t feel anything for Emma. Remember all of the ways she chaps your ass on a daily basis. . . .

  His pep talk was a miserable failure. There was no way he could convince his body that the woman beside him was like a sister to him. His cock wasn’t buying into it. The little fucker was a lot smarter than he gave him credit for being.

  Even after being blackmailed into the trip, Brant had still grudgingly let Emma use his frequent-flier miles to book seats in first class. He had never been more grateful to have a few more inches to put between himself and another person. If they were in the three side-by-side seats in coach, she would probably either be in his lap the entire flight or worse yet, some stranger’s lap on her other side. He led her to the window seat and, after a moment’s pause, leaned down to fasten her seat belt. He stored both their carry-ons in the overhead bin before buckling in beside her.

  She grabbed his hand as soon as he was seated. “Takeoffs always makes me nervous.”

  So, he sat stiffly next to her until they were in the air. For two people who had never touched, they were certainly making up for lost time today. He was surprised she had even booked their seats together.

  As soon as he could, he stood to get his laptop, intent on putting some distance between them, even if it was only mentally. But as he tried to study some spreadsheets, he felt her eyes on him as if they were burning into him. He tried his best to ignore it until she said, “You’re so hot. Really. Even when you’re being an asshole, which is most of the time, you still rock those suits.”

  His head jerked toward hers, his mouth falling open in surprise. Still she kept on as if discussing the weather. “We’ve all talked about it and agreed. You are completely fuckable until you open your mouth.” Her last sentence seemed to echo around them within the small confines of the airplane. He quickly looked around to see if anyone had overheard her. The lady across the aisle flashed him a disapproving look.

  Turning back to Emma, he cleared his throat and asked, “I . . . um . . . thanks, I guess. I rather hate to ask this, but who is ‘we’?”

  She put her hand up in front of him and started counting on her fingers.

  “Beth, Ella, Claire and Suzy.” Hell, this was worse than he thought. Why would they be discussing him? Sure, maybe it was a little bit of an ego boost to be considered fuckable—at least until he considered the part about him opening his mouth. As he was floundering for a reply, she put her hand on his thigh and his thoughts scattered all to hell. “I need to go pee; can you help me?”

  Fuck! Just when he thought things couldn’t get more uncomfortable. “Emma . . . I don’t . . . Er, can’t you hold it? I don’t think it’s a great idea for you to be up walking around.”

  When she cupped herself like a child, he felt himself go light-headed. “I can’t wait. I’ll hold your hand, I promise.”

  Of course, the damn bathroom was several rows away. He didn’t relish the thought of her wobbling around, but he could also live without being peed on.

  On a loud sigh of resignation, he unbuckled his seat belt and then turned to do hers as well. He extended a hand to her as he stood, pulling her gently into the aisle in front of him. When she stood there looking around in confusion, he put a hand on either side of her hips and pushed her gently down the aisle. She stopped once to compliment a woman on her shirt and another time to introduce herself to a small boy who was playing with a plastic car. When he finally got her to the restroom door, he opened it and pushed her forward.

  Then he stood outside the door for what seemed like an hour before he heard a crash inside. Alarmed, he knocked on the door, “Emma, are you all right?” No answer, so he called her name twice more. When she didn’t answer, he was at a loss.

  He couldn’t just leave her in there. The door lock showed green, meaning that she hadn’t locked it. “Emma, if you don’t answer, I’m coming in there.” This time he heard her say what sounded like “help.” That was all he needed. He opened the door and gaped at the sight. Emma was bent over the toilet with no shirt on. His eyes almost popped out of his head as he caught sight of her breasts pushing against the fabric of her lacy black bra. “What the . . .”

  He finally took his eyes off her chest long enough to notice her trying to pull something that looked like her shirt from the toilet. “Help me! I took my shirt off to wash a stain out of it, and I accidentally dropped it in the toilet. I don’t know what happened, but it started flushing and now it’s trying to eat my shirt!”

  “Emma . . . drop the shirt.”

  She jerked up to look at him, and the thin silk top flew fro
m her hand, sucked loudly down the toilet. They both stood staring down for a full minute as if the shirt would magically reappear. He finally realized that he was standing in the doorway where anyone could come by and see Emma half-dressed. Shit, what was he supposed to do now? “Do you have another shirt in your carry-on?”

  Shaking her head, she said, “No, just panties.” Yeah, that’s exactly the mental picture he needed to go along with the tits he was now trying hard not to stare at. He pushed the door shut behind them, wedging against her in the small space. Not a good idea, but he didn’t want anyone looking at her. He expected a flight attendant to come by at any moment and accuse them of trying to join the Mile High club; in his freaking dreams, maybe. He started unbuttoning his shirt and she giggled nervously.

  “You’d better be careful; that toilet is dangerous,” she warned.

  As far as he was concerned, the only danger in the bathroom was of his cock exploding through the zipper it was uncomfortably pressed against. He got the last button on his shirt undone and struggled to pull the shirt loose from his slacks. Finally, he unbuckled his belt and managed to free the material. He pulled off his button-down shirt and then started easing his undershirt off. He was damned grateful to be wearing layers today, because otherwise the men on the plane would be in for a real visual treat.

  Next he handed her the white T-shirt, saying, “Put that on.” It was a testament to how out of it she was from the medication that she stood holding it in confusion. “Honey, if you don’t put that on, you’re going to have to march back down the aisle and spend the rest of the flight in that skimpy bra.”

  He wanted to fall to his knees and offer up a prayer of thanks when she said, “Ohhh, I gotcha.” He started pulling his shirt back on while she wiggled against him, pressing her breasts into his chest as she maneuvered his T-shirt over her head. They were both breathing heavily by the time she finished. Probably for two completely different reasons, though. He was starting to feel like the only thing missing in the bathroom was a stripper pole and a stack of ones. When he opened the door to leave, an elderly woman was tapping her foot while giving him a disapproving scowl.

  “I . . . um, was just helping my wife. She lost her shirt.” Shit! Yeah, that sounds so much better. Behind him, Emma giggled as he took her arm and pulled her in front of him. “Hush,” he whispered in her hair. The situation already looked bad enough. Was it his imagination or was everyone on the damned plane grinning at them? He pushed her into her seat, wanting to escape the scrutiny as quickly as possible.

  He had just taken a deep breath and started to relax when Emma leaned against him. “Why are your pants unbuckled?” He looked down in horror to see his pants hanging open. In all of the confusion, he had tucked his shirt back in his pants but had failed to button them and buckle the belt. No wonder everyone on the plane had been looking at them. He might as well have been high-fiving as he walked back to his seat. My God, they had barely been flying for thirty minutes and he had already managed to embarrass himself more on board than he had in a lifetime.

  He buckled his pants knowing his face was flaming red. Emma’s hand landed on his thigh as she started randomly talking about every topic from this month’s Cosmo to the dog she had when she was a child. When she started drawing circles on his leg that were coming dangerously close to his cock, he clamped a hand over hers, stilling the motion. She propped her chin on his shoulder and asked, “Why don’t you have a girlfriend? Is it because you’re so . . . uptight?”

  He turned to her, finding that he had to scramble to keep up with her rapid-fire subject changes. “Uptight? I have women in my life.” He hated that he sounded so defensive. Did everyone at Danvers think he was such an asshole? Since when was it a crime to have a good work ethic? He was courteous and considerate to everyone—well, except Emma. With her, he tended to give as good as he got.

  Her eyes rounded as if he had just admitted to having the formula for world peace. “You do?” she gasped. “Who? Wait—you’re not talking about your sister, Ava, are you?”

  So maybe he had been going to mention Ava, but now there was no way he could. “Just different women, okay? No one you would know.” When she gave him a disbelieving look, he added, “I have a lot of sex, Emma, more than you do, I’m betting!” And . . . all eyes in the seats around them were trained on them again. He had managed to make an ass of himself while Emma sat beside him looking like an innocent angel. When she opened her mouth, he said, “Enough. Don’t say anything else. Just go to sleep, stare off into space or anything that doesn’t require us talking.” To drive his point home, he leaned his head back on the headrest and closed his eyes. He didn’t intend to open his mouth until they landed in Miami, no matter what she said.

  Chapter Six

  Brant was absurdly grateful to feel the plane touch down at the Miami International airport. Beside him, Emma yawned, stretching her arms above her head. Eyes off the tits; nothing good can come of that. “Feeling better?” he asked her.

  She gave him a sleepy smile that still appeared a bit loopy, but he thought she may finally be coming down from the laughing gas that the dentist had given her. “Yeah, just a little tired.”

  He stood, grabbing both their carry-on bags. She made a halfhearted attempt to take hers from his hand, but he assured her that he would carry it. He didn’t think she was steady enough yet to add anything else to the mix. He stepped back in the aisle of the plane and motioned for her to precede him out. What happened next was something he would look back on for the rest of his life with equal parts confusion, horror and amusement—when he was able to remember it without shuddering.

  Emma stumbled a few times on the way up the jet bridge, so his focus was primarily on making sure she didn’t fall on her face. There were several police officers and a dog standing at the end of the bridge as the passengers walked by. Brant knew it was standard procedure at many airports to have drug-sniffing dogs stationed where new passengers entered the airport facility. He barely spared them a glance as he steered Emma toward the terminal. When the dog suddenly started barking frantically, he looked around to see what was going on. He was shocked immobile when the dog stopped at his feet, still barking urgently. What the hell? He was so shaken up that he dropped both carry-on bags. Emma’s hard-shell bag dropped to the floor with a loud pop and seemed to explode open.

  He looked down practically in a daze as skimpy panties covered every inch of the floor around his feet. He could barely hear the chaos around him over the roaring in his ears. Suddenly, he was being pulled off to the side and asked repeatedly if he had a prescription for the medication he was carrying. What the hell were they talking about? He wasn’t carrying medication! When he shook his head, struggling to answer and confused by what they were asking, they seemed to take his response as an admission of guilt. He felt hands on his shoulders and cuffs snapping around his wrists. Through the haze, he thought he was probably hallucinating because he was sure he saw Emma on the ground trying to wrestle something from the dog’s mouth. The police were shouting at her, but she persisted. Was that? No, surely not. There was no way his assistant was wrestling with a narcotics detection dog for a . . . pink penis?

  “Emma,” he yelled.

  As the police pulled her away from the dog, she gave one final jerk and held up a bright pink, phallus-shaped object in her hands. He knew it was a vibrator because the buzzing sound coming from it was unmistakable. As she waved it in victory, he noticed white things that appeared to be pills sticking to the sides of it. “Fuck!” This was a damn bad time to learn that your assistant had a drug problem.

  Necks craned as they were led in handcuffs toward the security office in a back hall of the airport. Their bags were deposited on a table and the police started sifting through them. One of the officers pointed to Emma’s bag, asking, “Whose bag is this?”

  Emma stuck her hand up as if she were in school. “It’s mine. I’m sorry about the mess, but I had to pack in a hurry.”

&nb
sp; The officer held up one of the white pills that were scattered in the bag. “What kind of pills are these?”

  Emma looked at him, clearly puzzled. “I don’t know the name of them. I just got them before I left home.”

  The officer called the numbers off one of the pills to the other officer, who entered them into a computer. “Miss, these are Vicodin. Do you have a prescription?”

  Brant wanted to cry when she shook her head no. “I gave it to the man at Walgreens and he gave me these. He said take one or two and I took two . . . I think. My mouth was hurting really bad; I had a root canal this morning.” Shit, that explained a lot. She had taken pain medication. Apparently, it was some strong stuff. She still seemed half out of it, even after fighting with a dog.

  “Miss, where is your prescription bottle? We need to verify that you were legally prescribed these narcotics.”

  Big tears flooded her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. She seemed to be thinking the same thing he was now: cavity search and incarceration. “I . . . I think I left it at home. The top came off and they spilled everywhere. The cab horn was blaring outside so I threw my whole drawer in the bag and ran.”

  Yeah, thanks, baby. That really helped our case a lot. Brant averted his gaze from the huge, pill-covered vibrator that seemed to be staring him in the face. Apparently, the jellylike consistency of the vibrator was like Velcro for pills . . . just their luck. “Emma, can you give them the name of your dentist? Maybe they could give him a call to confirm the prescription.” Luckily, she had the receipt in her purse and the officers were able to get the confirmation they needed. They gave her a plastic baggie for her medication along with a copy of the prescription that the dentist had faxed over. He had to give them credit for mostly being able to control the smirks he saw hints of on their faces. The vibrator and the pills stuck to it were left behind to be disposed of. He was sure that they would be kept for weeks as the airport police laughed their asses off.