Jemma drew in a sharp breath. “Emersyn Gray, are you holding out on me?”
“We kissed. And I’m not talking a chaste peck on the lips.”
She let out a squeal and dropped the sprayer. Water shot up into the air and rained down on my face.
“Jemma!” I raised my head and grabbed the towel from around my neck to wipe my face.
I had my eyes closed when she grabbed my hand and yankedme up out of the reclined chair, pulling me into a bone-crushing—and slightly damp—hug.
“Water’s going everywhere!”
“It can be cleaned up.” She gave me another squeeze, nearly snapping my ribs, before she released me. Then she shut off the water and grabbed another towel. She wiped it over the seat and shoved me back down into the chair. “Tell me everything. Every detail. How hot was it?”
“On a scale of chili peppers?” I settled back into the neck rest. “We’re talking habanero hot.”
Jemma squealed again. I scrunched my eyes shut, but this time she maintained control of the sprayer and kept the water aimed solely at my hair. “I’m so happy for you, Emersyn!”
“Don’t get too excited,” I cautioned. “It’s not like it’s going to happen again.”
I silently sobbed inside at that thought.
“What?!” Jemma shut off the water. “Have you lost your ever-loving mind?”
“The opposite, actually. I can’t deny the attraction, and I can’t deny that he’s a freaking amazing kisser.” Even that was an understatement. “But there’s nothing else between us. It’s purely physical. No emotional connection.”
“So?”
I heard the squirt of the bottle a second before she began massaging conditioner into my hair.
I tried to figure out how to explain my jumbled thoughts and feelings. “That’s not what I’m looking for at this stage in my life. I’m not even looking for a relationship, but if I’m going to have one, I want it to be meaningful. I want it to have a chance of really going somewhere.”
“Maybe there will be an emotional connection if you give him a chance.”
“I don’t know, Jem. We’re from completely different worlds. I’mnot a country club kind of girl. Hobnobbing with the Tiffanys of the world? No, thanks.”
“Not all rich people are like Hoffman’s latest target,” Jemma pointed out.
“No,” I agreed, “but I’d never fit into that world. I’m not sure I’d even want to.”
Jemma rinsed the conditioner from my hair. “Maybe he’s not even all that rich. Maybe he’s just got lots of debt from keeping up his image.”
“Then I’d want to date him even less. I don’t need a financially imprudent guy in my life.”
“Okay, fair enough.”
I thought she might drop the subject there, but I should have known better.
“How did the kiss rank in the history of all your kisses?” she asked, a note of eagerness in her voice.
I stayed silent as she continued to rinse my hair.
“Emersyn,” she pressed.
I wasn’t entirely sure why I was so reluctant to admit the truth, but I knew Jemma wouldn’t let me get away with anything less.
“Number one. By a long shot.”
“Oh my God! If he’s that good at kissing, imagine what he’s like—”
