He was quiet about a lot of things.
She frowned into her drink, but a poke in her arm stopped her from starting to wallow again.
“This is a no misery zone, Emma Henry. If you’re going to be unhappy, I’m going to make you duet with me. And I promise you, it will blow your little
Flashdance
routine right out of the water.”
Her voice was stern, but her eyes glittered with humor. Emma laughed despite herself. “Sorry. I’m just
overanalyzing my relationship. It’s like a hobby. A sick, twisted hobby.”
“Ooh, I do that,” Annalise said, leaning forward, her long golden brown hair swinging over her shoulder. “That’s bad news. All it’s going to do is give you Resting Bitchy Face and take your focus off the important things in life.”
Emma couldn’t resist. “Which are?”
“Good friends to play with and the fact that you have a very nice, very hot boyfriend you get to sleep with anytime you want. Like,
anytime
.” Her eyes widened. “Did I mention anytime?”
Brynn snorted. “She has a point.” She looked at Annalise. “Sounds like maybe
you
should hit on the bartender, though.”
“Oh, honestly. It’s not like the man is wearing a sign that says ‘In case of emergency, remove pants.’” She angled her head. “Is he?”
They all laughed, and as Brynn and Annalise shifted from their discussion of the bartender’s assets to a friendly competition over who’d dealt with the most difficult customer this week, Larkin moved closer, her green eyes curious.
“I was just teasing, you know. I’d pick a better song for the duet.” She grinned. “You’re good, though, right? I hope you’re having fun. I like that we’ve expanded to a foursome—I mean, if you two decide to be seen in public with us again.”
“Are you kidding? This,” Emma said, lifting her glass and sweeping her hand around her, “is exactly what I needed. I know I’m not naturally outgoing, but I was getting seriously sick of my own company. And you’re fun.”
Larkin pointed a finger at her. “You’re contributing to
the general delinquency, trust me.” Then she tilted her head to the side, assessing. “Is this thing you’re unhappy about a big thing, or more like garden-variety worrying?”
Emma shrugged. “Haven’t decided yet.”
“Hmm. Annalise is probably right, then.”
“About the bartender’s pants?” Emma asked, earning a laugh.
“Yeah, probably. And also about enjoying what you’ve got. Think about it. When we go home, you can go play with handcuffs if you want to.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Naked.”
“This shouldn’t be making me feel better. Sex doesn’t solve problems,” Emma said. But she couldn’t help the silly grin.
“Maybe not, but it’s a hell of a lot of fun,” Larkin replied. “Hey, a smile! We’re back in business! You still want to do a duet with me? Pretend I never threatened it as punishment.”
“For telling me I’m being an idiot in the nicest way possible, I think I can do that.”
“Not an idiot,” Larkin said firmly. “Just human. Stick with me, and I’ll annoy the crap out of you with my gratefulness for the universe.”
Emma was momentarily reminded of her mother, which was more than a little disconcerting. “Um, is this a California thing?”
“Can’t tell you,” Larkin replied. “Gotta indoctrinate you into my cult of personality first. You should totally join, though. For the cupcakes, at least.”
As Emma let herself be pulled back to the karaoke machine, she realized that her friends were only telling her what she’d been trying to tell herself for days—she had a good thing going with Seth. So instead of spending
so much time worrying that he would never return her feelings, maybe she should just get back to enjoying what they had together and hope that the rest followed. Besides, making things happen was her specialty. She needed to have some faith in that.
Larkin handed her one of the mics, her eyes dancing with mischief.
“Let’s do this thing, Flashdance. Ready?”
Laughing at the nickname, Emma nodded. Then she took a deep breath and jumped in.
E
mma didn’t usually call him when he was on duty—she seemed to feel very strongly that it was bad manners, which Seth had discovered were her kryptonite—but when she did, it was always a pleasant surprise. Tonight, especially, since the call was to ask if it was okay if she slept over.
He didn’t know what had brought this on, and he didn’t much care. Ever since Sam and Jake’s cookout, it seemed like she’d taken a step back. Why, he couldn’t figure out, but it was pretty obvious. Maybe it shouldn’t have bothered him so much. After all, he’d said he needed to take things slow. That he wasn’t sure what kind of relationship he was capable of.
Except he missed her. The thought of going home to Emma, warm and asleep and waiting in his bed, got him through the darkest hours of the night when very little happened, and none of it tended to be any good. Fortunately, the hours passed with little trouble, and by the time the sky was turning gray with the approaching morning light, he was walking in his front door, taking care to shut it quietly so he didn’t wake her.
Seeing Emma’s little car in the driveway made him smile the way he had the first time he’d seen her with
that big yellow umbrella downtown. That rainy day, the sight of her had been just what he needed.
Now, it was just the same . . . only stronger. Maybe on a different day he would have questioned it, but right now, he was too tired to do anything but welcome it.
Seth found her in his bed, nothing but a dark tuft of hair visible above the covers she’d wrapped around herself. He smiled again at the sound of her soft snoring, silently going through his postwork routine and then leaving his boxers on to crawl into bed with her. There wasn’t much comforter to be had, so he had to do some tugging just to get underneath. On the upside, she slept like the dead, so he didn’t feel like he was disturbing her.
It took some doing, but after a few minutes Seth had managed to curve himself around her, one hand on her hip, knees tucked behind hers. He nuzzled into her hair, breathing in the coconut shampoo she used. She smelled like summer, his favorite season, and was as warm as the sun-kissed sand. He had a brief internal debate about whether or not to wake her—it was impossible to be this close without the attraction between them sparking to life, and knowing how good it was made the decision more of a struggle.
In the end, though, exhaustion won out, if not by much. And he let the feel of her, the scent of her, pull him into deep, sweet dreams.
* * *
Seth had no idea how long he slept. That, he had discovered, was one of the awesome things about a good night’s sleep that he’d taken for granted back when rest was a sure thing. His odds were a lot better now than they had been, but he wasn’t sure his appreciation for the good nights would ever dim.
Neither would the pleasure of waking up to a
beautiful woman. Even when she was tracing his tattoo with the tip of her finger so lightly that he woke up on the verge of giggling like a little girl.
He sucked in a breath as his eyes flew open, and his first sight was Emma, propped up on one elbow staring very studiously at his one piece of body art. Her finger brushed once more, then stilled when she felt him jerk beneath her touch. Her gaze flicked to his, a hint of uncertainty in it that vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared.
“Morning,” she said softly.
“Morning,” he murmured.
“I was looking at your tattoo,” she said. “I like it.” It took him a few long seconds to work out what she was talking about, but it clicked while he was yawning.
“Oh. Thanks. I like”—another yawn—“it, too.”
“I hope so, since this is permanent.”
“Mmm.” She was very awake. He didn’t know why, though he had the nagging feeling he ought to. It took a few seconds for the wheels to start turning, but once they did, he realized something odd. “You’re still here.”
“I’m still here,” she agreed.
It was a Thursday. Emma didn’t miss workdays unless she was deathly ill. The fact that she didn’t look ill, or at all worried that she wasn’t at work, was more than his sleep-addled brain could handle. “Did work blow up? Did you fire yourself?”
“Only for the day,” she said. “I took today off.”
“I thought that wasn’t allowed.”
Emma shrugged, beginning to trace her finger over the skin of his biceps again. “It’s good to be the queen.”
Seth gave her a wide, sleepy grin. “If I corrupted you, I’m very proud of myself right now.” He grabbed her hand, then pulled it to his lips. “Glad you like the raven, but he’s ticklish.”
“I’ll remember that.” She narrowed her eyes playfully, and he knew that whatever had been bothering her the past few days was done. “You don’t have to get all excited about being a bad influence, you know.”
“Hmm,” he said, pulling her to him. “Kind of hard when it’s gotten you into my bed at whatever time it is on a Thursday.”
“One,” she replied. “It’s one, and I don’t even remember the last time I stayed in bed this long. Maybe when I was a teenager. Maybe before.”
“Or maybe never, knowing you.” Seth kissed her jaw, then her cheek. “Guess I’d better make this worthwhile, then.” His body was completely awake already, hard and throbbing simply from having Emma so close. The desire in her eyes was both promise and invitation. So he made slow, sweet love to her, taking his time and kissing her to distraction while he explored every creamy curve with his hands. By the time he slipped inside her, she was quivering. Seth felt her squeeze him tight, and every thought vanished. Every thought but of her.
They moved together in the quiet of his room while the sunlight filtered through the curtains, the only sounds the creak of his bed, Emma’s soft gasps, and his own harsh breathing as he drove into her while she tightened around him. Lying beneath him, her dark hair in loose coils around her face, cheeks pink with exertion, she looked like some dark and ravished goddess, Seth thought. Even her eyes seemed to glow, turning hazy as he pushed her pleasure to the breaking point. Seth’s muscles tightened as he hurtled toward the edge himself, holding back only until he could watch Emma find her own release.
When her body bowed beneath him, eyes shutting as she cried out, Seth finally let himself go, pumping into her until he came, shuddering, inside her. He sank down
onto her when the tremors had subsided, showering her face with gentle kisses, then rolling to his side to wrap her in his arms.
Emma tucked her head beneath his chin, nuzzling into his neck, and sighed softly. The same thing he’d felt when he’d come home to find her here flooded him, filling him up until he had no room for anything else—no worries, no restlessness. Just the sense that everything in his universe was exactly as it should be.
“We could just stay here all day,” he said, eyes closed. “See, that way you don’t have to feel guilty for being out of work. You can just tell yourself it was okay because you stayed in bed.”
Her laugh was soft and warm. “I don’t feel guilty. I did think of something a little different to do if you wanted to leave the house at some point, though.”
“Oh yeah?” he asked, his curiosity piqued. All of this, from her wanting to be here when he got home to planning a day with him, was different. In a lot of ways, she’d been letting him set the pace of their relationship, giving him subtle nudges but generally handling his ever-shifting boundaries. And she’d never said a word about it, letting him have what he needed before she’d ever understood why. It reminded him of something Sam had said to him that night at the gallery: “Em’s a fixer,” she’d told him when he’d made some comment about Emma’s ability to turn chaos into order. Then Sam had laughed. “We’re all her projects. It started to drive me a lot less crazy when I realized that she only makes projects of people she loves.”
People she loves
. He waited for the usual fear the
L
word inspired, but it didn’t come. Instead, he simply wondered. She couldn’t be in love with him. Could she? He looked at her now, intensely interested in anything her
expression might reveal, any hint of deeper meaning. But all he could find was a sexily rumpled woman with a Mona Lisa smile.
“Well,” she asked, “are you game?”
He tried to brush aside an odd little pang that might have been disappointment. “Maybe. Should I be worried about getting sticks and stones caught in uncomfortable places if I say yes?”
Another laugh. “No. I said different, not kinky.”
“Then yes, I’m game. Feel free to try me with kinky anytime, though.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Emma said. “Did you want to go soon, or—?”
She let the question hang in the air, but Seth couldn’t quite bring himself to let go of her yet. Having her here felt right, and he didn’t know when she might decide to give him an entire day again. So instead of getting up, he buried his face in her hair, holding her close as she relaxed against him with a soft, contented sigh.
“Soon,” he murmured into the dark silk. “But not yet.” He wished everything in life could be so easy . . . but sometimes, like right now, holding Emma was more than enough.
* * *
By the time they made it out of the house and onto the Crescent, it was midafternoon. Seth knew he hadn’t left them a lot of time to do anything before he had to start getting ready for work, but Emma hadn’t seemed to mind. She’d simply grabbed the extra bike helmet and looked at him expectantly.
“Well?”
She wouldn’t admit to actually liking the motorcycle yet, but he had a feeling it was only a matter of time. Maybe eventually she’d want one of her own. He started
to entertain ideas about things they might do, places they could ride, before banishing the thoughts. It was supposed to be a fun, no-pressure day, and he was determined to keep it that way. Still, Sam’s words wouldn’t let him be.
Only people she loves.
What if she did? What would he do then? Not walk away. It surprised him how completely he rejected the idea the instant he thought of it. He was past running. And anyway, what if—
“Turn in up here,” Emma shouted in his ear, interrupting his thoughts. Her arms were wrapped tight around his waist, and she’d actually worn the right kind of jeans and boots this time. The feel of her pressed against his back would have made this a successful adventure in his book regardless, but her directions surprised him.
“Your mom’s house?” he asked.
“Yep,” was all she said, so he obliged, turning in and heading up the long gravel drive to the Henrys’ sprawling Victorian. Even though he’d already been there, the sight of it still took him aback. It was just so damn big, looking like something out of a movie about romantically inclined witches or children who found other worlds at the back of their wardrobes. The biggest surprise had been the feel of it, though—the small part he’d seen had felt cozy, despite its size. This was a home. Emma’s childhood home.
But her reasons for bringing him here puzzled him.
Andi’s old Beetle wasn’t in the driveway, so Seth parked in the spot closest to the house, then killed the engine. Emma hopped off and fished in her pocket while he got off the bike. When he’d removed his helmet, he found her holding her keys.
“I thought you might like to see the house,” she explained. “Everyone I ever knew in town wanted to come in and have a look. I think some of them thought we were keeping severed heads in the basement, but still. It’s a great house.” Uncertainty clouded her eyes, and he wondered whether whatever had been bothering her still was after all. “I mean, unless this seems beyond boring to you . . .”
“No,” Seth said quickly, and found that he meant it. It wasn’t every day he got a chance to see a place like this, and the thought of getting to poke around the house where Emma had grown up was fascinating. It just hadn’t been what he’d expected.
Should be used to that by now,
he thought, and smiled.
“Come on, then,” Emma said, brightening immediately. She grabbed his hand and led him up the steps, through the front door and foyer, where they left their helmets, and into the hallway where Emma had kissed him. He thought about grabbing her for a repeat performance.
“Where’s your mom?” he asked, teenage suspicions about being spied on by nosy parents tumbling out of old memories to haunt him.
“Working,” Emma replied. “Which means hanging out with her friends while knitting and getting paid. Her friend Joanne owns Diamonds and Perls.”
“Oh. That’s the place with, ah . . . yarn.”
She looked amused. “Amazing how fast your eyes can glaze over. Yes, yarn. I’m sure you have a few hobbies that would make my eyes glaze over, too, so don’t judge.”
“I’m not judging.” He trailed behind her, then asked, “What hobbies?”
“Like I didn’t see the action figures in your spare bedroom.”
“Uh, they’re . . . childhood keepsakes?” he said. “It’s not like I play with them or anything. And toys are way more interesting than yarn.”
She turned her head to look at him blandly. “Uh-huh.”
Seth made a mental note to move the vintage action figures to a better spot and tried to change the subject. “The stove is very cool. And very bizarre.”
“Try cooking with it. It takes some practice,” Emma replied. The white AGA’s design made it look a century old, but she offered a brief explanation about its function as a way to warm the kitchen as well as to cook. It sounded more complicated than Seth liked to get with his limited cooking, but he had to admit, it worked in this house. Actually, as Emma walked him from room to room, pointing out features of interest, Seth found himself engrossed in the place where the Henrys had lived for generations.
He’d never been in a house that had a glassed-in greenhouse worked into the design. It looked like Andi knew what she was doing with it, too.
“How do you even grow up in a place like this?” he asked, running a hand over the ornate woodwork of the fireplace mantel. “Were you allowed to run around in here?”
“You’ve met my mother,” Emma said. “Can you see her running around behind us with a vacuum and floor polisher? She never freaked out about the house. And amazingly enough, we never broke much.”