“It’s time to call it a night.” He slides a credit card out of his pocket and waves it at Kendall.
“Put that away,” I say with a shake of my head. “My brother paid for my drinks.”
His hand drops. “Your brother?”
“You know him.” I laugh softly. “Brown hair, glasses, and the world’s best secret-keeper.”
Expecting at least a smile from him, I scrunch my nose as he stares at me.
“Speaking of secrets, earlier you said you have a surprise for Drake. What is it?” I ask to lighten the mood. “I promise I won’t say a word to him.”
His expression doesn’t change at all. “Let’s get you upstairs, Emma.”
I swallow the rest of the martini because why would I waste a perfectly made drink? Pushing back from the table, I level my gaze on Case. “Fine. Don’t tell me about the surprise, but can you at least tell me if you knew he was getting married?”
Reaching for my arm, he exhales. “Who told you?”
“She did.” I point to where Kendall is standing next to a customer. “She knew. Don’t tell me that you didn’t know.”
He wraps his fingers around my forearm. “Drake would kill me if he knew I let you get drunk your first night in the city.”
“I’m not drunk.” I let out a stuttered laugh. “You think I’m drunk?”
I might be drunk. I’m probably drunk. I haven’t eaten anything since I left Seattle this morning, so yes, I am officially drunk.
“Come with me, Emma.” He tugs on my arm. “I’ll get you to bed.”
I don’t argue because sleep sounds good. Tomorrow everything will be better.
Chapter 6
Case
I live on the beach in California. When I step outside every morning, I’m met with a sense of peace that I’ve never been able to find anywhere else.
New York is in your face from the moment you wake up. My apartment sits twelve floors above the ground, but I could still hear the heartbeat of this city as I tried to fall asleep last night.
Honking horns.
Patience doesn’t exist on the streets of Manhattan. Everyone is in a rush to get from point A to point B.
I can’t condemn any of them. Once I get to my office in San Francisco, I’m full steam ahead. I put in twelve to fifteen hours, six days a week.
I save one day a week to recharge. Most of the time, that’s spent on a surfboard in the ocean if the waves are just right.
Mere days from now I’ll be back where I belong.
I glance over at the closed door of the guestroom.
Drake’s sister was numbing her pain when I sought her out at the bar last night. I’d sent her three text messages telling her that the coast was clear. I got nothing in response. I ignored the pull to look for her at first.
Once I started thinking about the consequences I’d face if she got herself into trouble, I took the elevator down to the ground floor with the hope that she was still in the bar.
She was. Emma was alone, drinking in a corner.
I don’t know where her relationship with Drake stands. He rarely mentions her. I can’t recall how old she is or what she does to earn a living.
The only thing I’m certain about is that she was blindsided by the news that her brother is getting married.
I’m grateful that the server at the bar dropped the bombshell on her. I wasn’t looking forward to that conversation.
Drake’s family drama is his to sort out.
The sound of the doorknob of the guestroom rattling draws my attention to it. I’ve been parked in a chair for the last hour with my laptop. I woke up to a few dozen emails and just as many text messages from Cabbott employees here on the east coast.
I’m the go-to now that Drake is out of town.
Dealing with the host of issues that are popping up has kept my mind focused on work and not on how Emma looked last night.
Her cheeks were flushed pink when I found her at the bar. She had piled her thick dark hair up in a messy bun. There’s no denying that she’s beautiful.
I stand when the door to the guestroom opens. Emma walks out dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a light blue silk blouse.
Her lips part when she sees me.
“Good morning,” I offer.
“Morning,” she mutters. “I had one too many martinis last night.”
I wondered if she’d bring it up. I hadn’t planned on it. When I lived in this apartment, I was known to overindulge often, too often.
Before I can change the subject, Emma carries on. “I don’t usually do that. I can’t. Or I haven’t been able to, but I guess now I can do whatever I want, whenever I want.”
That’s a hell of a lot to unpack this early in the morning.
I skate past whatever she just said and focus on what I need from her. “What are your plans for the day?”
She gazes around my apartment as if inspiration is going to hit her. “I’m going to see about a flight home.”
That works for me.
“What about you?” she asks.
The question perks my brow, but I ignore it in favor of my agenda. “I need you to hang out somewhere else until at least five.”
“I can’t come back until five?” She studies me.
I toss her a curt nod. “At least until then. It could be as late as seven. I’ll let you know if five doesn’t work, so you may want to pay attention to your phone today.”
She pushes her hair back over her shoulders. “I guess I can find a coffee shop. Maybe I can go to one of the museums for a few hours.”
That’s the spirit.
I keep that comment to myself. “I’m leaving for the office. I’ll see you out.”
Her arms cross her chest just under her breasts. My eyes level on them because I’m not dead. She’s a beautiful woman with a killer body.
The thoughts running through my head should land me a special place in hell.
I can’t think about Emma’s tits or how her slender waist flows down to curvy hips.
“Can you give me a minute to get my stuff together?” She tilts her head. “I won’t be long.”
A cleaning crew is due to arrive in a half-hour, so I can spare Emma a minute or two.
“Of course.”
“Thank you.” She smiles before she sets off toward the guestroom. I watch her walk away. I’ve never noticed the fit of jeans on a woman before, but Emma’s hug her heart-shaped ass perfectly.
My body reacts to that.
I look down at the floor because Drake would wring my neck if he knew that my dick is infatuated with his sister.
Emma Owens is off-limits. There’s no way in hell I can go anywhere near her.
Chapter 7
Emma
The last time I was in Manhattan, my brother set aside a few hours each day to spend with me. We had lunch together at his favorite diner one afternoon and wandered around the Museum of Modern Art another day.
I jammed everything we did during that trip into today.
My first stop was a coffee shop down the street from Case’s apartment. I logged onto their Wi-Fi and spent over an hour waiting to connect to an online agent from the airline so I could plead my case to have my return date changed.
I was denied.
The agent I was chatting with suggested I purchase a one-way ticket back home, but the cost is steep.
Wasting money to get back to Seattle a few days early is foolish. I don’t need anyone to give me that lecture.
Once I finished at the coffee shop, I went to Central Park and people watched. Then I took a walk down Fifth Avenue to window shop. My next stop was the diner, followed by two hours at the museum.
My heels are blistered. I’m exhausted, and it’s still not five o’clock.
I’m standing at the entrance to Case’s apartment building, wondering if I should risk sneaking upstairs. I haven’t heard from him all day, so I’m hoping that the plan hasn’t changed and soon I’ll be inside with my shoes off.
I
pat the keys that are in the pocket of my short black trench coat.
Glancing down at my phone, I check the time.
In thirty minutes it will officially be go time. Since Case is doing me a huge favor by letting me stay at his place, I decide to settle in the lobby until the clock strikes five.
I nod at the doorman as he swings the door open when I approach.
“Good afternoon, Miss,” he says the same line he always does when he greets me.
Drake introduced us to each other last year, but I can’t imagine how many faces this man sees in a day.
I’m not surprised that mine got lost among them.
“Hi, Lester.” Stepping into the lobby, I smile at him. “How are you today?”
“I don’t have a single complaint.” He tips the brim of his hat. “Are you enjoying our fair city?”
Enjoying isn’t a word I’d use. Tolerating fits the bill.
Back home in Seattle, I live in a condo on a quiet street. A park borders the back of the property.
It’s heaven in a small corner of Washington State.
Not wanting to steal Lester’s smile, I sidestep the question with one of my own. “Have you seen Case Abbott today?”
It never hurts to be prepared. I don’t know if Case will be in his apartment when I go up. Not that I would mind if he were.
I could use the company after spending the day alone.
Lester’s smile widens. “It just so happens that Mr. Abbott and I had a discussion about you earlier.”
Does Lester know that I was wrapped in a towel and brandishing a hairbrush when I met Case?
I doubt if Case even remembers what I looked like wet and trembling in fear.
Trying not to seem panicked, I paste on a forced grin. “What did he tell you about me?”
“I made an incorrect assumption when you first arrived, Miss Owens.”
My brows pop when I hear him say my name.
“I thought you were here as a guest of Mr. Abbott, but your brother is Mr. Owens.” He shakes his head. “We’ve met before, haven’t we?”
I nod. “Last year.”
“Please forgive me for that oversight.” He smiles regretfully.
“There’s nothing to forgive, Lester.”
“Circling back to your initial question, I did see Mr. Abbott a second time today.” Strategically holding out his hand, he rubs his index finger and thumb together.
Is he silently asking me to pay him for information about Case?
I have seen Drake slip the doormen some money when I’ve visited in the past, so maybe I need to follow that lead. Lester did hold the door open for me.
I fish in the pocket of my jacket. I pull out the five dollar bill I tucked in there earlier and hand it to Lester.
I have no idea if that’s enough to buy me insight into Case’s movements.
Lester closes his hand around the money before he clears his throat. “Mr. Abbott left fifteen minutes ago with the same lovely young woman who visited him last night. While I was arranging for the car to pick them up, I did overhear Mr. Abbott making a dinner reservation for two at Nova for seven o’clock this evening.”
Nova.
It’s one of the most expensive restaurants in the city.
“He let me know that he’d see me tomorrow, so I don’t expect him back before my shift ends.”
Unexpected disappointment nags at me. I shouldn’t care that Case won’t be home tonight or that he’s having dinner at a fancy-as-fuck place with a woman.
After a soak in the bathtub and some take-out, I’ll get a good night’s sleep before I decide how I’ll fill my time tomorrow.
“You don’t happen to have any pictures of your brother’s wedding, do you?” Lester points at the phone in my hand. “I’ve been anxious to see him and Jane dressed to the nines.”
Jane.
That has to be the name of my sister-in-law.
My gaze drops to the screen of my phone. I haven’t reached out to Drake today. He hasn’t tried to call or text me either.
“Not yet,” I answer quietly. “When I do, I’ll be sure to show you.”
“Thank you, Miss Owens.” He tips the brim of his hat again. “Shall I get the elevator for you now?”
There’s no reason for me not to go up to Case’s apartment. Shaking my head, I start the trek across the lobby to the bank of elevators. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Enjoy your evening,” he says cheerfully.
I won’t.
I’m in a city filled with millions of people, but I’ve never felt so alone.
Chapter 8
Case
I’m officially calling it a day.
It’s not even nine p.m., and I’m done. Jet lag is still right on my tail, kicking my ass.
I shove my key into the lock and turn the handle on my apartment door.
Silence greets me.
I exhale because I’m relieved. I was half-expecting Emma Owens to be planted on the couch in the living room watching the huge television her brother bought.
Drake’s a hardcore fan of any and every sport in existence. He can rattle off the stats of every player on any of the teams that are based in New York City.
I admire his commitment to cheer on his heroes.
I don’t have the time to devote to parking my ass anywhere for three hours straight unless I’m actively working.
Glancing to the left, I spot the touch screen on the wall that controls virtually everything in the apartment. There’s another one in the hallway, and a third installed in the main bedroom. The system is the brainchild of Drake.
He had sent me mockups when it was in the development stage. I told him I didn’t want to step into the already overcrowded space, but he was insistent on pursuing it as a personal passion project.
Scratching a brow, I study the screen.
Lights. I only want to turn on the goddamn lights in this room.
The panel is set on a timer, but there has to be a way to override that.
I punch one button, and loud classical music fills the room.
Fuck.
I tap that button to silence it before I push the button next to it.
The blinds that cover the massive windows overlooking Madison Ave open to reveal a breathtaking view of dusk settling over Manhattan.
I ignore that and yell at the damn thing, hoping that Drake followed through with his intention to integrate voice activation into the system. “Lights! Turn on the fucking lights!”
Warm light fills the space.
Shaking my head, I look around.
Everything is exactly as I left it a few hours ago when I headed to the Lower East Side. Cabbott Mobile’s New York office is housed there.
I stopped in this morning to a lukewarm reception from the employees.
When I revisited this afternoon, it was a different story. I garnered a few smiles and greetings from the people who take home a paycheck signed by me.
I don’t know what the hell I was expecting, but I spotted only two familiar faces as I toured the offices. Drake has followed my lead and cleared out the dead weight.
I keep the California office staffed with people who are not only talented but also ambitious. They need to prove daily that they deserve to work side-by-side with me.
I toss my keys and phone on a wooden table in the foyer. It’s not a piece I purchased, but whoever bought it has good taste.
I strip off my suit jacket before I fold it over the back of the gray leather couch that’s been here for as long as I can remember.
Nothing in this apartment resembles the house I live in back in California.
At one time, I thought I’d be happy calling this place home. Now, I feel like I’ve been dumped into the middle of someone else’s life.
I have.
This is Drake’s life, although that’s about to change.
His marriage is the first step toward the future he’s always wanted.
I’m doing what I can to kee
p him moving in that direction.
I make quick work of the buttons on my shirt before I slide it off and toss it onto the jacket.
My belt is next. With a tug, it’s free and on the couch too.
Just as my hands drop to the zipper of my pants, I hear movement at the door of my apartment.
For fuck’s sake.
I assumed Emma was somewhere in Manhattan living it up.
I didn’t expect her back here yet.
I spin around as the door flies open and she walks in. White shorts and a black T-shirt cover her body. Her hair is tied up into a lopsided ponytail.
Her eyes widen as her gaze flits over my naked chest.
Seeing her reaction to finding me shirtless is enough to jerk my cock to life, but that’s short-lived once I get a glimpse of the person on her heel.
“Cason fucking Abbott,” he blurts out. “I heard you were back in town, you son-of-a-bitch.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I toss him a nod. “Do I know you?”
Panic flits across Emma’s expression. Stepping forward, she stares at me. “He said his name is Gavin Fuller. He told me he’s your cousin.”
Her eyes don’t leave mine even though Gavin is rounding her on his approach to me.
“I wouldn’t have let him come up with me if I didn’t believe his story,” Emma says in a rush. “You don’t look alike, so I was skeptical, but I don’t look like my cousins. Most of them have blonde hair. My parents both have blonde hair, but my mom isn’t a natural blonde if you know what I mean.”
Why the fuck do I like that rambling thing she does?
She carries on at a breathless pace. “His hair is black, and your hair is brown, but you both have green eyes, so I thought that was a family trait. Is it?”
Gavin stops in front of me. “Tell her I’m your cousin.”
I look him over. When I left New York, he was working his way through medical school. Now he’s an E.R. doctor who is too busy to return my calls.
I raise a hand and pat him on the cheek. “Look at you all grown up.”
With a swat of his hand against mine, he laughs. “Look at you. Still shirtless, I see. This is New York, Case, not California. If you want to be taken seriously here, put on a suit.”
Rush Page 3
