She waved a hand. “But it wasn’t just that. There were the date nights. Which turned out to beeverynight. It was exhausting. We both worked hard,and most times I’d get off a ten-hour shift and want to go home, put on my ratty sweatpants, and eat Cheetos while binge-watching Netflix.Thathurt his feelings too. He didn’t understand why I’d ever choose that over a romantic meal with him.”
She picked at one of the buttons on the tufted arm of the sofa. “He texted me constantly, even when we were in the same room. And if I didn’t callhim the minute I walked in the door to tell him I’d made it home from work, he’d pout and send me on a guilt trip. It all became too much. And those bright, sparkly feelings I had for him turned to dust.”
She looked up, held Christian’s gaze, and finished with, “Just like my parents. Just like my grandparents.”
“Emily, you’re not like—”
“But I am, don’t you see?” she interrupted. “I’mexactlylike them. If there was one man on the face of the planet I should have fallen in love with, it was Richard. And Ididfall in love with him. At least I think I did there for a little bit. In the beginning. But because I’m a Scott, it didn’t stick.”
Christian had his own ideas about what had happened. “It sounds like this guy was needy and controlling, maybe even downright overbearing.And you’re an independent woman. It’s no wonder you began to feel suffocated.”
“Of course you’d say that,” she scoffed. “You’re trying to get me to throw caution to the wind and do the horizontal mambo with you.”
Christian snorted. The things she said delighted him nearly as often as they made him fancy taking her over his knee and paddling her sweet ass. “That may be true. About the…uh…horizontalmambo. But it doesn’t change the fact that I think Neely was all wrong for you, and I’m hardly surprised you kicked him to the curb. What bothers me is that your relationship withhimhas made you determined not to give a relationship withmea go.”
When her face blanched of color, he quickly added. “Not that it’s a relationship I’m after.”Liar, liar!a voice singsonged inside his head. “Ruddyhell, I haven’t the first clue how to be a boyfriend. I even hate the word. It’s juvenile sounding. I’m hardly a boy.” And he didn’t just want to be herfriend. He wanted to be hereverything. Her every thought. Her every smile. Her every witty quip. Suddenly, he understood how Richard Neely had felt. A woman like Emily turned a bloke into a possessive prat. “I’m a man. A hard man. A difficultman. An uncompromising man. And I haven’t got it in me to change.”
She smirked. “You say all that like you’re telling me something I don’t already know.”
He went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “So the difference between me and Neely is he wanted to be your everything. He wanted forever. Which meant that when things between the two of you came to an end, he was devastated. But I’ve no needto be your boyfriend. I’ve no need for forever.”
Liar, liar!that vexing voice sang again. The buggering shit needed to shut its gob.
“So when things betweenusend, it’ll be easy. We’ll go back to being coworkers and acquaintances. No harm, no foul,” he finished.
What are you doing? What are youdoing?
Well, the voice hadn’t shut up, but at least it was on to a new refrain.
Truth was, Christian wasn’t surewhathe was doing. He only knew that Emily would put the kibosh on any chance of something happening between them if she thought it might hurt him in the long run or affect her position within BKI. So he was lying through his teeth to convince her neither of those things would happen.
Perhaps it was arrogance…bloody hell, in the end he might look back and realizeit was flat-outstupidity…but he couldn’t help but think that if he could only get close to Emily, if he could convince her to share her body with him, then eventually she would also share her heart and soul.
He didn’t believe for a split second that she was anything like her parents or grandparents. Emily was one of the most caring, most loyal, mostdeterminedpeople he had ever met. Whenand if she ever decided to take on a man for the rest of her life—Please, God, let it be me!—she would be a smashing success at it.
The trick would be convincing her to give it a go in the first place. And he figured the first step toward accomplishing that goal would be to convince her to let him into her bed.
“I’m speaking of scratching our itch, Emily. Finding pleasure in each other’sbodies and leaving it at that. I’m speaking of keeping it casual,” he lied.
“People say that, but they always have trouble keeping it casual.” She told the truth.
“I won’t.”
She eyed him for a long moment. Then, “Youreallydon’t want anything more from me than a quick slap-and-tickle?”
“No, I daresay I don’t. And wemustwork on your euphemisms, woman.”
“Says the man who unrepentantlyadmits he comes from a land with about a bazillion colorful terms for dick and balls.”
He hardened his stare, his eyes demanding,Stop stalling. What will it be, Emily? Yea or nay?
When she swallowed and nodded, everything inside him grew still. Her eyes held an invitation to which he RSVP’d by pushing up from the chair and joining her on the sofa.
Her breath caught when he cuppedher face, rubbing a thumb over her mouth because, ruddy hell, it begged for attention when it wasn’t being kissed.
“Come then, Emily.” He dropped his voice so his words were a bare growl. “Let me show you why God made beautiful women and well-hung Englishmen.”
* * *
