He had followed her cue and acted like nothing had happened, but it was killing him. The only thing that kept him from approaching the subject was the fear that she would cut him off at the knees. The whole masculine pride thing was no myth. No man wanted to be rejected or made to feel he didn’t matter, and that was the vibe that he was getting from Emma. It was damn humbling to have what he considered a knock-your-head-off sexual experience and then find out that the other person didn’t seem anywhere near as awed. He wasn’t vain, but he had never had any complaints in that department. Could he have missed something with her? He wasn’t an inexperienced schoolboy; he knew she had come. He still had the marks on his shoulders to prove it. So why the indifference?
Except shouldn’t he be happy that things hadn’t gotten complicated? Out of nowhere, he remembered the sensitive, supportive advice that he had given his brother when he had been tied up in knots over a woman at work who was now his wife: Never shit
where you sleep or work; it always turns out badly. Well, apparently that applied only to him because things had turned out fine for Declan, Jason, Gray and Nick. Hell, he was the only one having a problem with it.
He decided to skip the cold shower that he so desperately needed since Emma had claimed the bathroom and settled instead for a change of clothes. Emma was right; he did look a little overdressed. Going downstairs and making a run for the beach was better than sitting in the room imagining Emma naked in the next room, water lapping over her firm, high breasts.
Fuck.
Pulling open his suitcase, he grabbed a pair of cargo shorts and a University of South Carolina T-shirt. They were both a little wrinkled but it couldn’t be helped. He refused to give Emma the pleasure of asking her to use an iron. Regardless of what she said, he could do casual. He quickly changed, pulling on a pair of Nike flip-flops that he usually threw on after a shower. He heard the water stop in the bathroom and took off at top speed. He couldn’t handle any more naked images in his head right now.
He made it down the stairs to the front door. Freedom was but a few steps away when the door handle beneath his hands started turning without his help. Uh-oh. He stepped back in surprise just as a group of women literally burst through the door.
The leader of the group stopped mere inches away from him. He tried not to stare at the tank top pulled tightly across her rather large chest that said
S
MUT-
L
OVING
W
ENCHES
D
O
I
T
A
LL
N
I
GHT
, and then in smaller print,
READ BETWEEN THE
LINES
. As he was trying to sort that out in his mind, the proud owner of the shirt gave something that sounded suspiciously like a wolf whistle and said, “Ladies, we have just hit pay dirt. Look at this yummy piece of man-candy.” Brant watched in frozen shock as the group of women spread out and looked him up and down.
His mouth felt like it was working, but nothing seemed to be coming out. This was his first real episode of being objectified, and he had to admit it didn’t feel that great. Instead, he wanted to run back upstairs and hide behind Emma. Surely, she had clothes on by now. “Er . . . hello,” he stuttered.
Just as he was trying to figure out an escape path, Emma’s mother walked in from the other room. He was damned glad to see her. Her enthusiasm and ability to jump from one subject to the next in the blink of an eye was a little scary, but he liked her. Emma’s father was a lucky man because Kat Davis was a knockout. She reminded him a lot of the actress Andie MacDowell. He had noticed in the airport that Emma strongly resembled her mother and, in his book, that made her lucky. Mother Nature definitely had a soft spot for the Davis women.
She walked up to him and tucked her arm through his. “Down, girls. Don’t scare the poor man away or Emma will kill us. This is my daughter’s new boyfriend who I was telling you about. Isn’t he delish?”
Delish? Good grief, he had at least ten women
staring at him now as if he were a prime piece of meat while Kat stood beside him looking proudly on. “Maybe I should run back upstairs and check on Emma.”
As he turned to make his escape, Emma walked down the last step, landing beside him. “Oh, no need, honey, I’m right here. I see you’ve met the girls.” Then turning toward the group, she offered them a bright smile. “Brant and I can’t wait to sit in on your book club meeting tonight. It’s all he’s been talking about since Mom invited us.”
He gave her a forced smile that he hoped adequately conveyed his feelings of murderous intent. “You know, since there are no other men in the group, maybe we should sit this one out, dear. I wouldn’t want to impose.” As everyone rushed to assure him that they couldn’t wait to have a male opinion in the group, he knew he was screwed. How bad could discussing some book about shades of gray be? He was relieved that the name indicated that it wasn’t any type of romance book. God, that was a relief.
Everyone fell in line behind Kat as she led them out the patio doors off the kitchen. Brant took a deep breath, smelling the ocean along with the mouth-watering scents of the grill. Beside him, Emma suddenly squealed and flew across the patio into a man’s arms. “Daddy!”
“My Emmie!” Emma’s father was a tall, muscular man with a head of thick dark hair just beginning to gray at the tips. It was obvious from his tanned skin that he
spent a lot of time outdoors. Brant remembered her telling him once that her dad was a builder and his athletic frame supported that. Her father kept one arm around Emma while stepping forward to extend his other hand to him. “I’m Ken Davis, father to this handful.”
Brant tried to keep a blank expression as he thought that his interpretation of “handful” and Emma’s father’s where she was concerned were probably very different. “Nice to meet you, Ken, I’m Brant Stone, Emma’s . . . boyfriend.” God, that seemed weird to say at his age. Of course, what else was there? Lover? Yeah, that would go over well with her daddy. “This is a beautiful place you have here. Did you build this house?”
Nodding his head, Ken said, “I sure did. Of course, Kat changed her mind about every damn day, but I finally made her happy. You know, if your woman isn’t happy, your life is hell, right?”
He might not actually have a woman, but Brant knew a true statement when he heard it. Emma’s mom handed him a cold beer and he took it gratefully. Wait. Should he pretend that he didn’t drink to impress them? Looking at the group of book club women still gathered behind him making no attempt to hide the fact that they were looking at his ass, he decided, screw it. If they wanted to judge him, then at least he would be slightly more relaxed about the experience with a few beers.
When her mother asked, “So, Brant, honey, are you from South Carolina?” Emma tensed beside him.
“Yes, Kat, I am.” He had already made the mistake of calling her ma’am earlier and he now knew to avoid that.
“What do your parents do?” It had been so long that he didn’t even flinch when he said, “They passed away when I was young.” Everyone seemed to be waiting for him to explain, so he added, “They died in a plane crash near the Florida Keys, actually.”
Emma gave him a look of sympathy even though he knew that she was already aware of the story. Kat stepped forward and gave him a hug. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry to hear that. I’m sure they would be proud of how well you turned out.” Emma found herself nodding in agreement. There was really no debating that. Brant was one big walking accomplishment.
At that moment, her brother came striding out, gaining everyone’s attention toward him. The baby of the family always took center stage. She took a little whiff as he drew closer, thinking he had probably been practicing his “botany” before he came in. She gave him a hug when he finally managed to escape from their mother.
“Hey, Emmie-Lou.”
“Hey, Brat,” she fired back fondly. “How’s school?”
“Not bad; the class load is kicking my ass, though.”
Emma quickly introduced Brant, who asked, “How many classes are you taking this semester?”
Wrinkling his nose, Boston said, “Three. I usually try to stick with two. You know . . . to have more time for other things.”
Brant, oblivious to Boston’s surfer-dude attitude, said, “Oh, you work and go to school part-time?”
Boston looked confused. “No, man, I go full-time. It’s pretty rough, too.”
Emma was grateful when their father interrupted the conversation to say that Robyn had to work late and would have to drop by the next day. By that time, Brant would have already gathered that her brother was a slacker, but why make it worse? Boston walked off to sneak some food off the table, leaving her alone with Brant for the first time since coming downstairs.
“Your brother is quite a character.”
Emma smiled. “Yeah, he’s the go-to guy for all leisure activities.” She took a minute to study him. “You look pretty leisurely yourself. I didn’t think you owned anything besides suits.”
His eyes drifted over her white shorts and turquoise off-the-shoulder top. “You look pretty laid-back yourself. I like the top. A lot.” Emma felt her face flush at his unexpectedly flirtatious words.
“I . . . um . . . thanks.” Oh no, she could feel her nipples start to harden at his continued attention. She could tell by the slight widening of his eyes that her body’s betrayal was obvious to him. Suddenly it was as if their usual insults had turned into come-ons. Frankly, the whole thing had her off center. She didn’t know how to act in a world where her words may now be considered foreplay, not only by Brant but herself as well.
She jerked when Brant settled an arm around her
shoulders and nuzzled her neck. Was that his tongue? “I guess we need to look the part, right?” he whispered in her ear.
“Hmmm?” she croaked out, barely able to think with his body this close to hers.
“You know . . . boyfriend, girlfriend, lovers. That’s what we are playing at, right?”
“Oh, yes, right, of course.”
Her mother beamed her approval as Brant led Emma toward a chair. “You go ahead and sit if you want. I’m going to grab a Coke,” she said. In truth, she just needed a few minutes away from his amorous attention. She stopped to talk to her dad and then her brother before deciding she couldn’t stay away from Brant any longer without it being obvious. Drink in hand, she turned back in his direction and then abruptly stopped. Brant was still seated at the table, but her vacant seat and all of the others next to him had been filled by her mother’s book club friends. In fact, Brant was now the center of their attention. Far from looking awkward, he appeared completely at ease as he laughed and joked with the crowd of admiring females.
Her father walked to her side and tracked her line of vision. “Thank Christ, at least I’m off the hook tonight. If there’s a male anywhere in the vicinity, they’re all over him.”
“Daddy!”
“Baby girl, I’m just calling a spade a spade. Your mother loves that group and I like ’em just fine as long as they meet at someone else’s house. Most of them are
divorced and it doesn’t take long to figure out why. Their men probably packed up and ran like hell. They don’t bother your brother too much. They probably figure it would go right over his head.”
Emma put her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her giggle. God, she loved her daddy.
“It looks like I’ll be able to enjoy my beer and my burger tonight, though, since they have their hooks firmly in your new man.”
“Yeah, I see that and it’s only just begun. He accepted their invitation to the book club meeting tonight to discuss
Fifty Shades of Grey
.”
Emma laughed as her father’s mouth dropped open. “You’re shitting me?”
“Nope. I don’t think he knows what it is, though.”
“I’d just think it was some painting book if not for your mother trying to read me every other chapter.” Emma decided to let him off the hook since he was starting to look uncomfortable. This probably wasn’t a book you wanted to discuss with your daughter. “I need to go get the food off the grill and you’d better go rescue Brant.” She had been planning to leave him to fend for himself, but she was supposed to be in love with him, and it might look strange if she sat at the other end of the table.
Luckily or unluckily, when she walked up behind him, the line of women automatically shifted down one seat and she slid into the empty chair next to his. He threw an enthusiastic arm around her, pulling her in closer to very tempting warmth. “Hey, baby, I missed
you.” Everyone at the table gave an
awww
while she tried to tell herself that the pang she felt in her heart wasn’t real. Nothing about their rapport was real other than the fact that they worked together and, when this was over, it would be back to business as usual. Sure, they were both physically attracted to each other, but that changed nothing in the end. She was just too different from Brant for things to ever go any farther, wasn’t she? After all, the man sitting beside her now was an illusion. He was acting a part and she had to remember that. When they returned home, he would be the same uptight man that he normally was, and she would be back to calling him on it at every opportunity. She couldn’t be deceived by how good it felt to be a “we” and not just plain old Emma. Opposites may attract, but in this case, they may also strangle each other.
Brant had just finished eating his hamburger and Emma was now curled into his side. The mannerisms of being a couple seemed to be coming more naturally to him than he would have imagined. She had given him a couple of elbow nudges that kept him somewhat grounded in reality. Dinner with her family had been lively and fun. He didn’t have to fake his connection to her parents; it was genuine. He had carried on a long conversation with her father on everything from politics and the economy to college football. Her brother had invited him for a stroll on the beach to “burn one,” which he politely declined. Her mother and her friends were a constant source of off-color jokes and stories about their husbands, boyfriends and neighbors. As a group they were rather scary, but you had to laugh with them.
Once the food was cleared from the table, he watched in curiosity as one of the women, Doris, pulled a bag from her purse and shook out some jewelry. She passed what appeared to be a necklace to the other women.
Emma held hers up and he could see what looked like a tiny tie, something that looked like a mask and . . . what the . . . handcuffs?
Emma smiled sweetly at his puzzled expression. “Could you fasten this for me, honey?”
“Um, sure, sweetheart.”
Her father stood up, saying, “Well, I think that’s my cue to head inside.”
Kat glanced at her husband, giving him a look that made Brant turn quickly away. The love and passion between them was obvious in every interaction they had with each other. “Honey, you’re welcome to stay. We have another man in the group tonight, so you might be more comfortable.”
Ken leaned down and gave his wife a lingering kiss before straightening. “I’ve got some calls to return. I’ll see you when your friends leave. Do you want me to open your bottles of wine before I go?”
As Kat nodded, Ken grabbed a couple of wine bottles from the kitchen, returning with one of them open. Brant saw the Sancerre label on the bottle and thought it was a strange pick for a book club meeting, but who was he to say since this was his first time. As Ken walked by him on the way into the house, he clapped a hand on Brant’s shoulder, saying under his breath, “Good luck, son.”
Twenty minutes into the meeting was all it took for Brant to go from alarmed to traumatized. When Doris was asked her favorite part of the book, she said, “I loved it when Christian took Anna into the red room of
pain because nobody wants a vanilla relationship, do they?” He jerked back in alarm so hard that Emma almost tumbled off the seat beside him.
While the others at the table went off into a very long and detailed discussion of floggers and paddles, he pulled Emma closer, whispering in her ear. “What the fuck kind of book is this?”
She gave him an innocent look but couldn’t quite keep the mischievous expression off her face. It was there dancing in her eyes, impossible for him to miss. “Why, honey, I thought you knew that
Fifty Shades
was erotica.”
He gave her an incredulous look, hardly believing the shitstorm he had walked blindly into. “You set me up. Have you read it?”
Smirking, she admitted, “It’s one of my favorites; I’ve read it twice.”
Part of him was still pissed, but another part, mainly the one between his legs, was dying to know what
her
favorite part of the book was. As intrigued as he was, he knew one thing: He had to get the hell out of here before her mother detailed her favorite part and scarred him forever. He couldn’t bear the idea of accidentally picturing her and Emma’s father re-creating some scene complete with a spanking for the bad girl.
He jumped up from the table, causing all eyes to land on him. “I, er . . . just remembered that I need to call my brother about some business. You ladies go on without me . . . please.”
Emma didn’t look as amused when she realized she
was being left to have what Brant considered a porn discussion with her mother while he hauled ass. He trailed a finger over her chin, returning the smirk she had given him earlier. “Take your time, precious, I’ll be upstairs.” Yeah, he might never get the images out of his head, but he had gotten the last laugh and that had to count for something.
When he walked through the family room on the way to the stairs, Emma’s father looked like he was having a hard time keeping a straight face. Brant shook his head, saying, “I guess you knew what that book was about.”
“Yeah . . . sorry, son. This is far from my first rodeo. Kat makes sure I get a summary of every book she’s reading. I don’t think there’s any such thing as a good old Western anymore. Nowadays, the cowboy would be whipping the girl instead of the damn horse.”
Brant burst out laughing. Ken sure had a way with words. “No kidding. If anyone ever mentions a book club to me again, I’ll probably start running and never stop.”
Ken waved the beer he was holding. “You look like you need a drink. You probably need something stronger than beer, but Boston is never around when you need him.”
Apparently, Boston’s activities were well known in the family. Ken reminded Brant a lot of the grandfather who had raised them after their parents died. He could be a hard-ass, but the man was the king of one-liners. “Thank you, but I think I’ll just go on upstairs and stare
at the walls for about ten hours.” After a few more pleasantries, he sighed with relief when he closed the bedroom door behind him. He was glad to have a few moments out of the spotlight. Those women needed some kind of professional help. He shuddered, remembering the graphic details of their conversation.
Pretending to be Emma’s boyfriend had been the one easy part of the evening. Having her curled against him had felt far too natural. Even though he had been desperate to escape the book sex-talk, he had still been hard-pressed to leave her. Having to keep up appearances in front of her family had ensured her behavior toward him was nothing like it usually was. Gone were the barbs and insults and in their place was nothing but soft, sweet and amazing-smelling Emma. If not for the other women killing his hard-on, it would have been impossible for Emma to miss. Calling a halt to his usual war with her was causing a problem that he had never expected. He actually liked her now, maybe too much. If he had these types of feelings for any other woman he had slept with, he would be pursuing a relationship with her. With Emma, it was all kinds of complicated. They worked together—which, granted, seemed to be how everyone at Danvers found a mate, but he tried damn hard never to complicate his life to that degree.
He was almost desperate enough to call his brother for advice. He knew that calling his sister was out. Although they were close, Ava didn’t do relationships and she would flatly tell him to move on. But Declan would understand where he was coming from since his
wife also worked for Danvers. Did he want someone to encourage or discourage him? Damned if he knew.
Brant had just stepped out from the shower and was toweling off when the bathroom door opened. Emma’s eyes were wide and her breathing seemed just a little heavier than it should have been. She was twisting the hem of her top in her hands, seeming to be filled with a nervous energy. She stared at his groin as if riveted before he wrapped a towel around his waist. “Ever heard of knocking, sweetheart?”
Her face flushed and she opened her mouth as if to say something before suddenly launching herself at him. “Oh my God, it was so bad listening to my mother discuss anal plugs, but the rest of it was just hot . . . Brant?”
With her warm body pressed against his almost naked one, he barely managed to get out, “Hmmm?”
“I’m so horny I can’t stand it. Please fuck me . . . now . . . right here.”
His cock was rigid, ready to give her anything she wanted. He couldn’t believe he had any thoughts of objecting, but still he had to be the voice of reason. “Your parents . . .”
By this time, she had all but climbed him like a tree. “Their bedroom is on the first floor at the other end of the house. They won’t hear us.”
It still felt wrong, but by that point he no longer cared.
Putting his hands on her ass, he ground himself against her. “I’ll fuck you, baby, and I’ll even spank
you.” At her moan of approval, he stripped her clothes off and dropped his towel. He turned the shower back on and backed her inside. He hoped the water would disguise any sounds just in case someone was nearby. He plucked a condom from his shaving kit on the sink and sheathed himself before following her in. He took a moment to appreciate the picture that she made with the water running in rivulets down her beautifully curved body. Her breasts were the perfect-size handful for him, with rosy nipples that looked like raspberries. Lower down, her pubic hair was neatly trimmed and her shapely thighs were moving restlessly. It seemed that neither of them could wait another moment.
He backed against the wall, bracing her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and met his mouth as it came down on hers. Their tongues clashed and he held her hips up before plunging her down onto his cock. “Brant . . .” she moaned. He could feel her nails score his back as they both raced desperately toward the peak. He figured by this point that water was probably flying out of the shower and drenching the bathroom, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was the woman wrapped around him. There was no illusion of control left; they had both lost it with his first thrust. He continued to pound into her velvet heat and she ground herself against him. When a strangled cry tore from her throat, he felt her body go stiff and then shudder. She spasmed around his hard cock as her release seemed to go on and on. He held off as long as he could, letting her ride the peak before he erupted inside her.
They both slid to the floor of the shower, letting the water pelt them. When he had recovered enough to move, he juggled the still limp Emma in his arms and managed to step out onto the rug in front of the shower without injuring them both. They quickly dried off without speaking. It was a comfortable silence. He suspected they were both too exhausted after traveling and having shower sex to attempt conversation.
Next Emma dropped her towel and pulled a T-shirt out of her bag before scooting under the bedcovers. She slid to one side and without asking, he slid in behind her. In his experience, it was always easier to ask for forgiveness than permission anyway. He was surprised when she turned and settled against his side, curling around his body like a lazy cat. He stiffened for a moment before pulling her closer. He hadn’t slept this intimately with a woman since Alexia, and if he had stopped to think about it, it would have scared the hell out of him. And yet he couldn’t resist her.
Emma woke slowly. She was in the middle of a yawn when she noticed the time on the alarm clock. Was it really after eleven already? She rarely slept that late—even on the weekends. As she stretched she noticed that her body ached in all of those long-neglected places from the previous night. Just remembering how she had practically attacked Brant made her groan and bury her head in the pillow. The man never stood a chance.
Reading an erotic book got to her every time, and
last night had been no exception. Even with her mother’s book club taking some of the thrill out of it, she had still been turned on from reviewing the hot and heavy scenes of
Fifty Shades of Grey
. If he had been asleep, she might have left him in peace, but there was no way she could stop herself when she saw him standing in the bathroom almost naked. Heck, nothing short of divine intervention could have stopped her at that point. The man had a drool-worthy body and, oh baby, did he know how to use it!
Most of her past orgasms had been at her own hands. With Brant, though, she could feel her orgasm building from the moment he entered her. She had now slept with her boss twice. There was no way this could end well. Their whole relationship was built on mutual disrespect. She was now taking the term “
sleeping with the enemy
” to a whole new level. It had to stop . . . didn’t it? So what if he was God’s gift to women in bed? He was still the same Brant Stone that she loved to loathe.
She had put in yet another transfer request before they’d left together for Florida. Yeah, it really looked like she wanted out from under him, didn’t it?
Ugh, I’m the office slut now.
It felt like everything was catching up to her as she walked dejectedly toward the bathroom to shower and then hunt down the missing Brant. Maybe the situation was still salvageable. She could stop anytime she wanted to, right? She had complete control over her body. There was no way she was going to lose it just because she lusted after him.