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“Oh, you’re really trying your hardest to get some tonight.”

Chuckling, he held her hand tighter. “Touché. I already know that I’m getting some—willing or unwilling on your part.”

Emily shook her head and laughed. “You’re in a very frisky mood right now.”

He shrugged and casually leaned back in his seat. “Yes, I am. But how could I not be?” he said, gesturing to her slightly exposed cleavage with his head. “Although, I must say, I wish you would wear something that covered you up a little more.”

Emily adjusted the straps of her dress, pulling it up higher on her chest. “Is it that bad?”

“Well, I like to keep what’s mine to myself.” He cleared his throat and took a sip of wine. “Okay, let’s talk about something else before I take you right here on this table. So how was your day?”

Not meeting his eyes, Emily traced the rim of her glass with two fingers. “It was okay.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I feel self-conscious now, Dillon,” she replied, glancing around the patio.

“Emily, I didn’t mean it like that.” He reached across the table and lifted her chin with one finger. Her eyes came to rest on his. “I just don’t like when other men stare. You look stunning, but like I said, you’re mine.”

“Okay, I’ll pay more attention to what I wear from now on.” A faint smile tugged at her lips. “But, to be honest, I actually like when other women stare at you.”

“Oh, do you?”

“Yes, I do. I know you’re with me, and that’s all that matters.”

“Well, you’re a woman, that’s why. Men have other things in mind when they stare like that.”

Interrupting the conversation, the waiter arrived with another bottle of wine and two plates of Beef Wellington. The rest of the evening’s talk focused on Dillon taking Emily to do some sightseeing around the city. It was something that she had looked forward to since she had yet to do it—at least not with him.

Picking up the empty plates, the waiter looked to Emily and handed her a dessert menu. His thick, French accent slid from his tongue. “The chef recommends the crème brûlée medley, consisting of chocolate, vanilla, and banana.”

“That sounds good to me,” Emily replied, handing the menu back to him.

The faint sound of an infant crying caught Dillon’s attention. He glanced at Emily. “That baby is driving me nuts. Do you really have to get dessert?”

Emily sheepishly smiled, flicking her eyes in the direction of the couple who were trying to soothe the baby. “It’s just a baby, Dillon. And no, I don’t have to get dessert, but I want to.”

Dillon’s head snapped up as he glared at the waiter. “Fine, bring her the medley. But is there a possibility of removing the people with the screaming child?”

Emily’s smile fell.

“I apologize, sir, but I’m not able to do that,” the waiter answered, noticeably uncomfortable by his request.

Dillon’s eyes hardened on the man. “Surely there’s a manager that I could speak with then.”

Stupefied at his remark, Emily interjected immediately. She looked up to the waiter. “Please, there’s no need to do that. You can just place it in a to-go box for me. Thank you.”

“It may make for a mess in a to-go box, Miss. May I recommend our cheesecake if this will not be enjoyed here?”

“Yes, that’s fine. And thank you again.”

The waiter nodded and whisked off to the kitchen.

Emily’s jaw dropped open as she yanked the napkin from her lap, tossing it on the table. “Jesus, Dillon, what the hell was that about?”

He shifted in his chair, trying to drag his attention away from the couple and the now screaming baby. He rubbed his fingers against his temples. “I’m sorry. It was a long day at work.”

“Still, that was completely mortifying,” she huffed, leaning back against the seat.

“I said I’m sorry, Em. I’m just exhausted from working all of these late nights.”

A wave of guilt coursed through her as she reached across the table for his hand. “I know you’ve been working hard lately. But, honestly, what are you going to do when we have children?”

The waiter returned with both the dessert and the bill. Dillon retrieved his credit card and handed it to the man.

A small smile crept over Dillon’s face. “I wouldn’t want you messing up that gorgeous body by having children.”

“Well, I do want children eventually, so I guess you will have to endure a messed-up body on my part one day.”

Rising from his seat, he buttoned his suit jacket and offered his hand to Emily. She stood up with him. “We have time for children, babe,” he whispered against her cheek. He signed his name on the receipt when the waiter returned. “Come on, I have something special for you.”

Emily followed him out to the docks that lined the restaurant, her eyes feasting on the skyscrapers towering over them. The sparkling of lights from the windows, indicating the presence of others so high in the sky, amazed her. A cool breeze swept across her skin as she slipped her heels off, so they wouldn’t get caught between the boards.

Walking hand in hand, Dillon held her heels as he led her to the end of the docks.

He circled his arms around her waist. “Happy anniversary,” he said, handing her a black velvet box. “I love you very much, Em.”

Emily’s heart quickened with anxiety as her body trembled with anticipation. She licked her lips slowly. “Dillon…I…we…” she stammered, unable to finish the rest of her sentence.

Cocking his neck to the side, a low laugh escaped his lips. “You were just talking about having children with me, Em.” He tenderly brushed the hair from her face. “But it’s not what you think it is.”

Letting out an audible breath, Emily stared at him. His familiar brown eyes gazed back as she opened the box, revealing a pair of stunning, one-carat diamond earrings. Emily gasped at their beauty. Dillon took them from the box, removed the earrings she was wearing, and secured them on her lobes.

Looking down to the ground, Emily lightly fingered one of the diamonds.

Dillon brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “They look beautiful on you.” He dipped his head, forcing her to stare into his eyes. “Though, I have to say, you looked like you were about to pass out when I gave you the box.”

She raised her hand and traced her fingers against his jaw. “They’re beautiful. Thank you so much. I just got a little…nervous, you know? I’m not sure if I’d be ready for marriage just yet.”

A slow smile curled his lips as his warm fingers splayed across her lower back. He pulled her to him. “Be ready soon enough, babe,” he crooned softly against her ear. “Because I’m marrying you one day.”

With his breath in her ear, he ran his tongue along the curved edge, gently sucking her lobe into his mouth.

The hair on her nape stood on end from his rapt attention to the spot he knew would send her over the edge. Thrusting her fingers into his hair, she pressed her lips against his. Their lips moved together as he swept his tongue through her mouth. He smoothed his hands down her waist and pulled her closer, his kiss growing hungrier by the second.

With her inner senses becoming too hot for the public onslaught of affection, Emily pulled back and slowly grabbed him by the hand. “Let’s go,” she breathed out, trying to contain the spiked level of need running through her. “Okay, let’s talk before I take you right here on the docks,” she laughed.

“Alright, but the talking ends once we get back to my place.” He eyed her seductively as his grip on her hand tightened. “Okay, something to talk about…something to talk about. Oh, you took off for this Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, right?”

Emily came to an abrupt stop; her brow drew up in confusion. “For what?”

“Gavin’s Fourth of July party. We told you about it last night.”

“Right, but that’s Saturday. Why do I need off all three days?”

Dillon snaked his arm around her waist and continued to lead her to his Mercedes. “Because Gavin Blake doesn’t throw what you would consider a
normal
Fourth of July party.” Smiling, he opened the door for her. “We party the whole weekend. We’ll sleep there Friday and Saturday night and then head back here on Sunday morning.”

Emily settled herself into the seat of his car, and he closed the door. Once again, she felt her pulse jump but for something completely different now. Her stomach felt nauseated at the thought of having to spend an entire weekend at Gavin’s home in the Hamptons. She had prepared herself to see him again—she had to because he was Dillon’s friend, and there was no doubt they would run into each other from time to time—but this…this was different.

Dillon lounged into his seat, and the engine purred to life.

Biting her lip, Emily looked over at him. “It’s already Wednesday night, Dillon. I can’t get off all three days. I told Antonio about Saturday, and he was fine with that, but I’m pretty sure he won’t be fine with me taking the entire weekend off.”

“Then, I’ll go in and say something to him,” he stated, his voice holding a tone of superiority.

“Dillon, you will do no such thing,” she replied, her tone showing aggravation. “I’ll ask him when I get to work tomorrow. Don’t you dare go there and say anything.”

“Whoa-whoa,” he laughed, taking his hands off the steering wheel momentarily and holding them up in surrender. “Damn, Emily, it was just a gesture.”

Rolling her eyes, she leaned her head against the window. She wondered two things. One, if she could actually get off work all three days on a holiday weekend, which seemed near impossible in her mind. And two, if she was able to get off, how on earth was she ever going to make it through an entire weekend around Gavin without absolutely losing her mind?

Chapter Five

The Many Layers

“Damn, Emily, how much did you pack?” Olivia asked, eyeing her friend’s suitcase as she slid a backpack over her shoulder. “It’s only two nights, chick.”

Emily’s head snapped up. She tucked the last bit of her makeup into a bag. “You’re not staying the whole weekend; that’s why you packed less. It’s really not that much.”

“It looks like you’ve stowed a small city away in there,” Olivia laughed, walking over to her. Tossing her blonde hair to the side, she wiggled her brows. “But that’s right—you’re going to be around Gavin all weekend, so I’m sure you’ll need enough clothing to change into. I’ve heard that he likes black lingerie,” she winked.

“You’re such a drama queen, Liv. Just stop with your future assumptions, okay?” Emily walked in the kitchen with her bag as Olivia followed, tickling her ribcage. She jumped and laughed, pushing her away. “Oh, and by the way, a whopping thank you for the warning about this being a two-night hiatus. I’m lucky Fallon was able to cover my shifts.”

Olivia held her hands up and shrugged. “Hey, I just assumed you knew about it.”

A quick knock came at the front door, and Dillon peeked his head in. “Is everyone decent in here?”

Emily made a slicing motion across her own neck, mouthing Gavin’s name.

Olivia nodded that she understood and then piped aloud, “Actually, we’re not. You know I’m into women now, so I have your girlfriend spread eagle across the kitchen table.”

Emily shook her head and laughed.

“That’s right. I forgot about that, Ollie…I mean, Olivia,” Dillon huffed, making his way into the apartment over to Emily. “The entire male species has banned you.”

“Fuck off, Douchepickle…I mean, Dillon. It’s the other way around. I banned them,” Olivia hissed, grabbing her backpack from the floor. “And my girlfriend’s meeting me out there, so you better not say a fucking word, asshole.”

Dillon laughed and shot her a wicked smile. He then dropped a kiss on Emily’s lips.

Olivia rolled her eyes. “Is the limo here yet?”

Emily looked to Dillon confused. “Limo?”

“Like I said, babe, it’s a crazy party from beginning to end.” He yanked Emily’s suitcase from the ground, the heaviness of it apparent in the straining of his bicep. “Gavin sends one for us every year. And it just so happens that, yes, it’s outside ready and waiting. Let’s go. It’s almost three, and it’s Friday, so rush hour will be a bitch.”

Dillon led the way out the door and into the elevator.

Before stepping in, Emily widened her eyes at Olivia and whispered, “Is
he
in the limo?”

With two sharp shakes of her head, Olivia whispered back, “No, he would’ve slept there last night to get the place ready.”

Stepping out into the street, Emily took in the sight of the gray and black Hummer limousine. The chauffeur was holding the door open with a huge smile on his face. He retrieved everyone’s bags and placed them in the trunk. As Emily and Olivia settled themselves into a seat, Dillon jumped in, popped a 30 Seconds to Mars CD in the player, and swiftly started making himself a drink.

“Always hitting the booze, Dickhead…uh, Dillon,” Olivia remarked, studying her face in a small compact mirror.

He shot her a blank, frosty smile. “What are you now, my mother?”

Emily let out a deep sigh. “Would you two stop already?”

“She started it.”

Reverting to a second-grader’s level, Olivia crinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue in Dillon’s direction.