EMERSON SCANNED THESCREEN IN front of him for what felt like the hundredth time. He wasn’t any closer to understanding the numbers stacked in their columns in front of him. Usually numbers were something he could count on. He’d made a living seeing patterns others couldn’t, but every time he started going over the accounts for Rockcliff, his attention drifted to the woman upstairs in his apartment. Having Sophie in his space was doing a number on him. The fact that he couldn’t imagine her anywhere else only compounded his issues. It didn’t matter how he looked at it; he was well and truly screwed.
It didn’t help that she’d done nothing to discourage his attention and everything to pull him closer. When he’d lost his mind and kissed her, she’d kissed him back, opening for him, wrapping her leg around him and pulling him into the hot V of her lithe body. He’d had to force himself to let go before he did something stupid, like strip her naked and kiss every inch of her body until the only thing she could say was his name as she came apart in his arms. Under his mouth.
He ran a hand through his hair tightening his grip until he felt the small bite of pain, desperate for anything that would help him regain control. He’d managed to walk away from her the night before. To haul his ass down the hall and into a cold shower that didn’t do a thing to dampen his desire for her. But she’d been there when he woke up, sitting at his breakfast bar, fresh-faced and impossibly young, her blue-eyed gaze practically daring him to do filthy, filthy things to her. He wasn’t proud of the impulse, but it was almost as if the more innocent she looked, the more he wanted to have her, to be the one to smear her lip gloss, to tease and taste her until her lips were swollen from his kisses. Which was exactly why he had to keep his hands—and mouth—to himself.
Sophie was too young and too innocent for him. She made beautiful things for a living. She was an artist who looked at the world through that lens, and he was too jaded to see it as anything other than flawed. She belonged with someone like Gabe, with a man she could laugh with. Someone she could play with. The thought of her with someone else twisted uncomfortably in his stomach, but it didn’t make it any less true. He was building his business, and she was just starting out. Neither of them needed the compromise that love demanded.
“How long are you planning on staring at that?” said Gabe, dropping into the chair next to him.
“Nice of you to decide to show up for work.” Fresh on the heels of the thoughts he’d been having, it was easy to direct his anger at his brother.
“It’s barely nine, man. Berlin sends her love.” Gabe smiled like a man who spent the night in the arms of the woman he loved instead of tossing and turning down the hall from a woman he couldn’t have.
“Yeah, and work starts at eight.” It wasn’t, strictly speaking, the truth. He was almost always in the office by seven, seven thirty at the latest, but the others came in at different times depending on the jobs they were working. Gabe might never be the first one into the office but he pulled his share of the weight.
“Ouch. Sounds like somebody had a rough night. Sophie could stay at my place if you want.”
“No.” It might be hard having Sophie in his space, but it would be a thousand times harder wondering where she was and what she was doing, worrying about whether she was safe. “What makes you think this has anything to do with Sophie?” The denial was too late, but he had to try.
“Oh please.”
“She’s fine where she is.”
“Doesn’t sound like it to me.” Gabe leaned back in his chair, crossing his hands behind his head as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Emerson knew the truth was different than the show, but he also knew his brother to be a basically carefree guy. It was part of what made him and Berlin such a good fit. They balanced each other.
“I didn’t ask you.”
“Lighten up, man. I just came to tell you I finished the system layout for Endville. What do you want me on next? The system for that investment firm needs to be reworked before their event at the end of the month. I could get a head start on that. Or take the day off if I’m in your way.” Gabe held his hands up in front of him and grinned at Emerson. The only thing that saved his brother was knowing he’d double down on the poking if he thought he might actually get a reaction from Emerson.
“Get with Andrews and see about pulling the traffic camera feed from around the store the night Sophie was attacked. Go out a couple of blocks if you have to and see if you can find anything we can work with.”
He’d done the preliminary search himself back when his focus had been on protecting Seaton’s interest. Protecting Sophie was infinitely more important. He’d pull in every resource at his disposal to make sure he never had to see those bruised shadows under her eyes again. And then when he was sure she was safe, he’d get her out of his house and find a way to get her out of his head before he did something stupid, like cross lines he had no business crossing.
“Sure, but I thought you didn’t believe the two incidents were related.”
He still didn’t. The sloppy break-in didn’t fit at all with the sniper-style shooting. The only thing the two had in common was Sophie.
“I don’t, but until something shakes loose, it’s all we have to go on.” The police hadn’t found anything useful at the site where the shooter waited, and there was no evidence anyone had been in Sophie’s place, which left Emerson with way too many variables and not nearly enough answers.
“Is she okay?” The concern was clear in his brother’s voice and Emerson’s mood shifted a couple of degrees.
He wouldn’t relax until the police had Sophie’s assailant in custody and he knew she was safe, but it felt good knowing he wasn’t carrying the burden alone. In reality, for as uptight and in control as he was, he’d never been completely on his own. He had his parents and his brother and sisters and then the men who worked for him who’d become more family than employees. He thought about Liam, tucked away with his farmer and the goats. He knew without asking the other man would be back to help in a heartbeat if Emerson needed him.
It made him wonder what Sophie’s family was like if she didn’t have anyone else to call when she was in the hospital.How did a twenty-three year old woman from Australia end up working in North Carolina?There was a lot he didn’t know about his houseguest.
“As okay as you can expect someone to be after they’ve been bludgeoned and shot at.” All things considered, Sophie had handled the attacks remarkably well.
Most people in her position would have been at least a little freaked out by the previous couple of days’ events. Sophie had been scared—terrified, even—as the gun man was shooting at them. He’d felt her fear when she was pinned underneath him and seen it in her eyes when he finally helped her to her feet. But she’d never lost her cool, not once. Not when she woke up in the hospital with him looming over her or when the bullets were flying. She’d taken all of it in stride, adapted, and kept moving forward.
Either Sophie Taylor wasn’t aware enough to realize how much danger she’d been in or this wasn’t the first time she been in danger. No one would describe the woman upstairs in his apartment as unaware, which meant his houseguest wasn’t as inexperienced as she looked. It was time for him to learn more about the woman disrupting his sleep and making him adjust the temperature on his showers to artic. In the absence of any other useful clues, maybe he’d find something in Sophie’s past to explain why someone would be gunning for her. Literally.
––––––––
SOPHIE HIT THE buttonon the elevator and prayed she didn’t need some kind of code to get off at the floor for Southerland Security. Emerson had been gone by the time she woke up. He’d made it clear she could help herself to anything in his cupboards, but she felt weird hanging out in his apartment alone. She’d been so scared after the shooting; she hadn’t really thought through what it would be like to be trapped in a stranger’s place with nothing to do but think about the mess her life had turned into. She didn’t even have her sketchbook. Or her car. Emerson didn’t have any tea. The whole thing was unsustainable.
She wasn’t going to run away. Despite his hesitancy the previous night, she still liked the idea of Emerson being “the one.” Not that she hadanyintention of ever saying those words out loud. She’d felt more from his kiss than any of the misguided fumblings with the guys in her past, and she was tired of waiting. At her age, it felt like her virginity hung over her like some kind of freaky Sword of Damocles. The longer it stretched out, the bigger deal it became. She was ready to retire her V-card and move on with her life, and Emerson was more than man enough for the job. It might be the only good thing to come out of the whole mess. Or that might be the adrenaline hangover and lack of caffeine wreaking havoc with her brain.
Either way, she had a plan. She was going to find Emerson, get a ride to her car, swing by the shop to see Connie and pick up her work, and then she was going to wait for him to get off. Before she figured out how to convince him to help her get off. Pun intended.Yep, definitely a post adrenaline buzz thing. She needed to fix it before she did something stupid, like throw herself at him.
