The Billionaire's Masquerade (The Friendship Series) (16 page)

“You’re right. You’re going to have to figure that one out for yourself,” he came back at her. “And for the record, what if I didn’t like being hunted for my knowledge when we first met? What if I’d spotted a beautiful woman and I wanted to get to know her without my infamous reputation to impede our conversations?”

He was probably justified in the “hunting” term, but she wasn’t giving in. She was too hungry and too hurt to be fair at the moment. “You still should have told me who you were.”

“Possibly. Or maybe I wanted to get to know that woman without the reputation muddying up the introductions. Maybe I wanted said beautiful woman to look at me as a man, not as the person who could be her next boss.”

She couldn’t argue with that statement so she picked up her beer and took a sip. The fact that she was actually starting to enjoy beer only irritated her further and she came up with another argument against him.

“So are you saying that…”

Their food arrived at that point and she halted her statement until the fussy woman moved away. There was already vinegar and ketchup on the table so there wasn’t any reason for the pretty blonde, who didn’t look like she was even over twenty years old, to come back to the table.

Emerson squeezed the ketchup bottle while she grabbed the vinegar, marinating the French fries with vinegar. “What were you about to say?” he prompted.

“You’re saying that the man underneath the reputation wouldn’t have come out? Are you saying you’re so weak without the reputation that I wouldn’t have gotten to know the ‘Jack’ side of you if you’d been honest with me up front?”

He made a rude noise and looked at her patiently. “What part of me would you classify as weak?” he demanded of her, taking one of her vinegar saturated fries and dipping it in his ketchup.

She blushed with his question and had to acknowledge that there really wasn’t a weak bone in his body. Or even mentally. He was fair and tough, hard on those who were mentally lazy and generous with those who had what it took to make it in the business. She couldn’t fault his work ethic. She just faulted the way he’d treated her.

And physically? No, there wasn’t anything weak about him physically. He had muscles everywhere. And she knew that for a fact, thinking about all the times she’d explored all those delicious muscles.

“You’re twisting the issue,” she accused and stabbed a fried calamari ring with her fork, dipping it into the marinara sauce. When she’d finished chewing the delicious bite, she used her fork to point at him. “And don’t even try to bring sex back into this argument.”

She couldn’t see it, but she knew that he was rolling his eyes behind those dark glasses. “God forbid we bring sex back into the relationship.”

“Exactly.”

He snorted and took a bite of fried flounder. “But it will be,” he told her firmly.

She stiffened, instantly worried. “No. We’re done with that.”

He didn’t respond immediately, but watched her nibble on a fry. “Think so?” he asked ominously.

She held her breath for a long moment, then shook her head. The man terrified her in that area. She knew how many nights she’d longed for him to just come to her room and take her into his arm to make love to her. She’d missed that so much. But she didn’t want the Emerson. She shouldn’t want the Jack side of him either. But she did.

If only…

No, there was no reason to come up with a list of “if only” thoughts. It was an unproductive exercise.

“Look, we tried, it didn’t work out. Let’s just…” she couldn’t finish that statement because it hurt to even say the words.

“We’re not over,” he told her firmly and stabbed a shrimp. “You just need to see the other side.”

She stole her own shrimp, chewing while contemplating his words. “What’s the other side you keep referring to?” she asked with irritation.

He slowly shook his head and took the last piece of calamari. “You’re going to have to learn it. I can’t explain it. Just like everything else I’ve taught you over the past month, experience is the best teacher.” He stabbed the last calamari, earning another glare from across the table.

“So you’re a calamari thief and uninformative.” She shrugged her shoulder. “Are there any redeeming qualities in you?”

He chuckled again. “I think I can figure out how to remind you of a few of my redeeming qualities.” He took another fry. “As for a calamari thief, I won’t accept that label. If you’re too slow to grab what you want, then I’m not going to sit back and wait. That should have been something you learned early on in this whole endeavor.”

Her lips compressed because he was right. He’d taught her to grab what she wanted, to know what it was and reach for it before anyone else might steal it away from her. He’d also taught her the skills to research things carefully – to evaluate the pros and cons. In doing so, she would discover the strengths and weaknesses, both in what was being desired and in herself if she obtained whatever it was she was aiming for. “Fine. I’ll just sit back and try to wait. Since you’re not going to tell me what’s going on or why we’re here, then I’ll just sit back and relax.”

“Exactly,” he said and stole the last piece of shrimp. He changed the subject at that point, asking her questions about one of the companies she’d been investigating. As they finished off the platter of fried seafood, they argued back and forth about the various company pitches they’d listened to over the past few days. With the sun shining down on her head and the marvelously fresh air, the argument with him was much more lively and informative, almost humorous this time. It was much better out here in the open versus being cooped up in the conference rooms or offices of his Manhattan headquarters. Everyone there was tense and speeding down the hallways, working at top speed in order to get the best deal in place which would make them the next deal. Everyone was trying to break the record for the highest profiting deal. But she’d looked at those figures, wanting to achieve that goal herself initially. All of the top ten deals had been put together by Emerson. He was a genius at finding what might be profitable and bringing the parts together. As she’d worked beside him, absorbing everything she could, she knew that she’d never achieve the kind of insight he’d obtained. He had years of experience and even if she were to reach his level of expertise, she’d still be behind him.

As they walked out of the restaurant, she realized something important. She’d stopped even wanting to top his profit records! When had that happened?

She suddenly realized that two weeks ago, she’d simply wanted to survive as his trainee. She’d stopped caring about winning and wanted only to get through it, to prove to herself that she could do the job. Well, since she was being perfectly honest with herself, she wanted to prove to him that she could do it too. But at some point, being the top earner hadn’t seemed so important.

They walked down the sidewalk and she felt awkward, remembering when they would walk down the street and he would hold her hand, they would laugh about one thing or another, argue with each other while chuckling at the other’s point of view. It had been nice and she missed it a lot.

“This is our last stop before we get back on the ferry,” he told her, putting a hand to the small of her back to guide her into a yellow store.

She looked around, cringing at all the candy and kid paraphernalia. “I don’t want any candy,” she said, trying to keep her expression bland.

“Good. Because you’re going to get some ice cream.”

She groaned, almost painfully full from the meal she’d just consumed. Perhaps if she hadn’t been arguing with him so forcefully, she might have thought to slow down, but probably not because the food had been incredibly delicious. “I don’t think I can eat anything else,” she told him. “The donuts and the fried food from lunch was too much.”

Emerson had noticed how much she’d eaten and he knew she needed the calories. Hell, she’d probably eaten more today than she had in the entire last week combined! He suspected that her ribs were showing by now. And he intended to find out. Soon! “Hey Joe,” he greeted the big, bearded guy behind the counter.

Joe turned around, his face revealing his surprise. “What are you doing out here, Jack? I thought you were holed up in your fancy New York place lately.”

Emerson chuckled. “I’m taking a long weekend to show the lady around.”

Joe looked down at Rachel, smiling with his ruddy cheeks. “You’re going to love the island,” he told her. “What’ll you have today?”

“The usual,” Emerson told him.

“Nothing for me,” Rachel spoke up.

Emerson shook his head. To Joe he said, “Give her a taste of the blueberry.”

Joe quickly turned around and a moment later, he handed Rachel a small spoon filled with a purple colored ice cream.

She took it warily, not sure if she could eat another bite.

“Try it,” Emerson encouraged with a knowing look in his eyes. “You’ll never get better blueberries than in Maine.”

She tasted the sample and waited. When the flavor hit her, her eyes widened and she ate the rest of the ice cream sample. “Oh my!” she gasped in a hushed whisper. “That’s amazing!”

Emerson nodded and turned back to Joe. “Two please, Joe.”

Joe chuckled and nodded before turning back to the ice cream bin. He came back a moment later with two cones that were filled to overflowing with the purple ice cream. Emerson slapped a ten dollar bill on the counter, then waved as he took the first bite of the ice cream, ushering her out of the shop while saying goodbye and thanks to Joe.

For her part, Rachel had no idea where they were going. All she could concentrate on was nibbling at the delicious, creamy blueberry ice cream. Emerson led her back down the hill where the ferry boat was off-loading passengers, having just docked one more time. Apparently, the ferry moved back and forth over the harbor constantly throughout the day and night. She took a seat at the front of the boat and concentrated only on enjoying the incredibly rich ice cream. She was very aware of Emerson sitting next to her, but this time, she didn’t even mind that his leg was against hers, or that his arm moved around her shoulders, resting on the back of the seat.

She couldn’t believe it, but by the time the ship was halfway across the harbor, she’d finished the entire ice cream cone. “Oh my! That was wonderful,” she sighed contentedly, sliding down against the seat and leaning her head back against his arm. She was so relaxed from the fried food and sugar, not to mention the two beers she’d enjoyed during their lunch time argument, plus the exercise, the sunshine and the lack of sleep over the past several days. “What are you going to feed me next?” she joked and then stiffened, realizing too late that she was supposed to be mad at him.

But it was hard to stay mad at a man who made her laugh. Not to mention made her feel a lot of other things which were much more disturbing.

She shifted on the hard, plastic-like seat, putting more space between the two of them. When she looked up at him, she blushed because he knew exactly what she was feeling. Time seemed to stand still as she looked at him, breathless and hyperaware of him as a man. A man who knew her body intimately and thoroughly. He’d brought her to the heights of pleasure so many times and she quivered with the effort it took to not throw herself into his arms and forget about all the pain and humiliation she’d endured at his betrayal.

Thankfully, the boat was coming into the dock once again and she took a deep breath. The boat’s horn brought her back, focusing her again on what was important. Surviving with whatever pride she had left after everything was finished between them.

“Come,” he said, taking her hand in his large one and tugging her along down the gangplank. “We’re not done today,” he said.

She had no idea what would be next and she was wide awake now with his warm hand holding hers. She pretended, to both herself and to him, that she wasn’t affected by his touch. But as soon as he let go so she could get back into his Jeep, she knew she was lying.

They drove down to the marina this time and Rachel couldn’t stop the eagerness that sprang to life at the idea of sailing once again. It had been warmer the last time, but she’d loved every moment of it. “Sailing?” she asked, trying unsuccessfully to hide her excitement.

Emerson looked at her carefully, trying to figure out the best way to explain his next lie. “We’re going sailing, yes. But not on the small sailboat we were on last time.”

Rachel smiled brightly, more than eager to try out anything as long as she could feel the breeze on her face, the gentle waves that carried the boat away from the shore and enjoy the amazing sights of the coast from the water. “That’s no problem,” she told him, jumping out of the Jeep, already walking down the dock to where they’d boarded his boat the last time.

Emerson watched for a moment, hoping she wouldn’t be too angry with him now. He enjoyed the gentle sway of her hips even though the sight made his body ache with need to hold her again, to be buried in her heat and hear those soft sighs of contentment after he’d pleasured her thoroughly. Damn, he wished this wasn’t so complicated.

When she started down the dock that would lead her to the smaller sailboat they’d taken out the last time, he grabbed her hand and led her in the opposite direction. “We’re taking another one today.”

She was instantly wary and pulled back, shaking her head when he turned back to face her. “No. I want to go on the one we went out on last time.”

He moved closer, his hand coming up to pull a wisp of hair away from her face. “I think you’ll like this one as well,” he said.

She instantly shook her head. There was a warning in his eyes, something that told her that this was another revelation that would only infuriate her again. She wasn’t angry right now. She was too filled with food, sugar and beer to be angry. There was a pleasant lethargy that she didn’t want to lose by finding out something important about Emerson Jackson. “No. I’m pretty sure that I won’t.”

“Why are you so sure?” he asked gently, trying to figure her out.

She pulled back slightly. “Because it’s probably some huge honkin’ sailboat that will look crazy expensive and won’t be nearly as fun to ride on as what we sailed the last time.”