A Hot Winter (New Adult Romance) (The Attraction Series Book 2) (6 page)

An hour later, Emma was stuck in her office with Marta Vincent, listening to her go off on every tangent possible, instead of focusing on the supposed reason she was there: to discuss her latest installment of
Rodent Robot Apocalypse
.  Emma had a feeling the fame was going to Marta’s head.  Though stories about cyborg dystopias and rodent mutinies would typically be a niche market, Marta Vincent had recently managed to get her new series optioned for a movie.  Now, her arrogance had triple-folded.  Unfortunately, it made her more tedious than ever.

It didn’t help that Derek, the owner of
Alien Notion
, gushed over Marta (to her face)--now more than ever wanting to keep his “star” happy so she would renew her contract and continue to publish in the magazine. Anytime Emma needed to communicate with her, Marta insisted on a meeting, rather than a phone call or an email exchange.  Today was the first time that the meeting had to take place in Emma’s house rather than at the
Alien Notion
office.

Still, as much as Emma longed to escape this tiny office--with Marta’s voluminous ensemble taking up most of the space--she’d rather Marta be here than in the kitchen.  In the past hour, the woman had already come up with three separate excuses to bother Matt.  The first time, she “sensed a presence in the kitchen” and ducked her head through the archway to say hello.  The second time, she said she was parched and needed a drink of water.  As Emma had risen to get it, Marta feigned humility and insisted she serve herself. 

The final straw came when she’d excused herself to use the bathroom.  It wasn’t hard for Emma to guess why even after the toilet had flushed and the sink water had run, the journey back was taking fifteen minutes.  Sure enough, she’d found Marta in the kitchen, annoying Matt with her pompous babble.  Of course Matt was too polite to show boredom or to usher her along, but Emma had to assume the woman was distracting him.  Even though Marta was over fifty-years-old, her personality resembled that of a child’s--self-absorbed, unaware of how she was being perceived, and struck with some variation of
ADD
.

Now Marta was planted back in her chair, toying with a bulky swath of cloth that draped around her in one of the most complicated-looking caftan dresses Emma had ever seen.  And they were finally discussing rodent robots.  “As I said, the story is excellent.  The characters are developing well,” Emma commented.  “You have a real gift for simile,” she added, exaggerating.  “My only concern is the sudden appearance of the mutant lemur army--”

Marta’s head angled toward the office door for a moment.  “How long did you say he’s been working here?”

Matt again.  What was the woman’s obsession?  

“Just a few days,” Emma said evenly.  “About the lemur army--”

“Hmm, well, he seems very personable.  When I introduced myself, he made good eye contact, firm handshake.  A very manly handshake.  Not one of those delicate handshakes.”

Emma restrained an eye-roll.  “Yes, he is personable.  Let’s get back to the story, though, because in this section, after the
second
apocalypse--”

“That shows character,” Marta continued with an approving nod.  “Eye contact, good handshake, un-antagonistic demeanor.  Often these are the marks of a real man.”

“Interesting,” Emma lied.  “Anyway--”

Now Marta’s neck was craned all the way in the direction of the kitchen.  “He’s not classically handsome like a movie star,” she commented, even rambling on, “but I could see the appeal.” 

“Marta, please,” Emma implored--trying to stay professional, but it was impossible not to betray
some
of her frustration at the moment. 

“Oh--you may be wondering why I’m mentioning all this,” Marta said in a rare moment of self-awareness.  “It’s because I’m thinking of hiring someone to do some work on my house.  Would you get a referral fee if I hired him next?”

“I’m not sure, but don’t even worry about that.  I’ll be happy to give you the number of the company Matt works for.”

“But I want
him
.”

“Well, you can tell them that,” Emma said simply, feeling irrationally annoyed and possessive of Matt.  It was ridiculous.  Marta Vincent was in her fifties and insufferable; it wasn’t like she was competition for Matt’s attention, or for Matt’s heart--

Heart?
  God, why had her mind even gone there? 

Disturbed by the sudden direction of her thoughts, Emma forced thoughts of Matt out of her mind.  If Marta was going to obsess on him--out loud--then this meeting was officially over. 

“Marta, I’m sorry to be so blunt, but I need to pick my sons up from school soon, and I don’t want us to squander this brief time we have to discuss your work--which is
brilliant
, by the way.”

Writers loved being called brilliant, and Marta was no different.  Her head snapped back in Emma’s direction.  “Yes, it’s being hailed by many blogs as earth-shattering,” Marta stated proudly.  “In fact, I’ve been collaborating with some of the big-name bloggers for my new online magazine.  Have you seen it yet?  It’s called,
Marta’s World
.  Martasworld-dot-com.”

“Uh, no, I haven’t seen that,” Emma replied, thinking how all-too-fitting the title was.  “I can’t wait to check it out!  As for your story, if we could get back to that…”

“Well, you’re
happy
with the story, aren’t you?” Her tone had shifted, becoming defensive, almost accusatory.

“Thrilled,” Emma assured her.  “As I said, I only had a few concerns, one of which is about the ending--”

“Oh, by the way, what are Matt’s spiritual beliefs?”

Emma sighed.  “I have no idea.”

“I only ask because as a lapsed Wiccan myself, you know, having someone working in my home--”

Now Emma was the one to interrupt.  Enough was enough; her whole world couldn’t revolve around Marta Vincent’s ego.  “You know what?  We don’t seem to be getting anywhere today.  Some days are just like that,” she threw in insipidly.  “Why don’t I simply email you my notes?  And if you have any comments or questions, you can let me know.”  Emma started to push away from her desk.

“You mean our meeting is over?” Marta said, clearly stunned.

“Yes, for today,” Emma replied, hesitating--sensing she’d made some critical error.

“Well,” Marta said with a
hmph
.  “Excuse me for living and breathing.”

Inside, Emma panicked a little.  Had she offended “the talent”?  Derek wouldn’t be happy if that were the case.  Trying to do damage-control, she said, “I think I’ve taken enough of your extremely valuable time for today.  I don’t want to keep you from your muse!  Um, so like I said, I’ll email you my thoughts, but there aren’t many, because your work is just brilliant.”

That seemed to appease her.  “Yes, that sounds fine,” Marta agreed, unfolding herself from the chair, swirling her blousy skirts all around, and finally heading toward the foyer.

At the door, Emma handed off Marta’s elaborate wool cloak and thanked her for coming through one of the faker smiles she’d ever had to exhibit.  As Marta was saying her overly long goodbye, Emma’s phone rang.  It was the house line, so Emma immediately thought the call might pertain to her sons in some way--doctor, dentist, school, etceteras.  A ringing phone would be the cue for most people to wrap it up, but not Marta.  “So, this weather is something,” she remarked.  “I hear a blizzard is expected soon.  At
least
one,” she said dramatically, wrapping her cloak up tight.  “Then again, it is Massachusetts, so I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Mmm-hmm, all right, well, drive carefully,” Emma was saying.

“They never salt the side roads properly.  It’s bad karma is what it is.”

With her phone still ringing, Emma opened the front door wide, hoping it wasn’t too blatant a hint.  “Well…”

Marta started to leave, but then paused on the threshold.  “I think when I get home I’ll make a nice bowl of hot soup,” she said.  “That sounds good.  Clam chowder.”  She sniffed the air as if she could smell the fresh catch rolling in, even though they were nowhere near the shoreline.

“Okay, well, enjoy!” Emma said brightly, as she heard a fifth ring and then the machine pick up.  From here she couldn’t make out the muffled voice of the caller (especially with the wind whistling through the foyer as Marta stood there, letting the heat out).  Hopefully the call was nothing important regarding Jake’s school or Ben’s preschool.  Becoming a mom had long ago divided Emma’s attention span into two main segments: her sons, and then everything else. 

Finally Marta set her red, witchy-looking boots onto the snowman welcome mat and made her exit.  Pushing the door against the blustery cold, Emma breathed a sigh of relief.

Briskly, Emma made her way to the kitchen to check the machine and to make more coffee.  “Hey, how’s it going?” she said as she crossed the room.

Matt had laid drop-cloths down and already painted the ceiling.  Now, with his back to her, he was pushing a paint roller up one wall.  With each movement his back muscles bunched, his thick arms flexed…  Emma held in a sigh.  If only his body weren’t so sexy. 

Just then she noticed his tattoo.  It was a row of stars that stretched across part of his bicep. 

“Hey,” he said, angling his head toward her for a second.

“Wow, you’ve done a lot so far.”

“This’ll be easy.”

“Okay, does anything fluster you?”

“I’m sure there must be
something
…” he joked.

“Uh-huh.  Well, don’t mind me. I just need more coffee.  That woman is exhausting.” 

“Yeah, sounded like it,” he agreed.

That caught Emma off-guard.  Uncomfortably, she hoped that Matt hadn’t overheard the whole laughable meeting--especially the part when Marta said he wasn’t “classically handsome.”   

“Oh--um--you heard her?”

“Not specifically,” he said as he continued rolling paint on the wall, making it look even and effortless.  “I just heard a steady stream of someone’s voice that wasn’t yours.”

Relieved, Emma continued to the machine to find out what call she’d missed.

“Hi, Emma?  This is Phil Parker,” a slightly raspy male voice said.  “Listen, it was great talking to you the other night; I enjoyed our conversation.  I, uh…just wondered if you’d like to continue our talk.  Maybe out over a cup of coffee?”  Taken aback, she squinted and tried to recall who Phil Parker was.  “Not sure if you’re a Starbucks girl,” he threw in lightly, “but if not, I know another cute coffee spot nearby.  So give me a call when you can.  My number is…”

As he rattled off his digits, Emma failed to hear the numbers because her mind was busy processing her surprise.  Now she remembered; Phil Parker was a dad at Jake’s school.  He’d bent her ear at Parents’ Night about how the kids had too much homework.  Something about how he worked all day and then had to come home to find reams of second-grade schoolwork waiting for him. 

Although Emma had engaged him politely, she hadn’t thought much of their conversation.  Really it had been so brief that she hadn’t thought anything at all.  It was bold of Phil Parker to call her out of the blue like that since she hadn’t given him her phone number.  Granted, she was listed, so--

“Hot date?”

Startled, she looked over.  She found Matt eying her, perhaps waiting for her answer.  “What--no.  He’s a dad at Jake’s school,” she explained unnecessarily and opened the cabinet. 

“He likes you,” Matt remarked casually.

“I barely know him.  We ran into each other on Parents’ Night.  I completely forgot about it.  He started talking to me about how the kids have too much homework and mentioned maybe getting a cup of coffee.”

“Huh, that’s a new one,” Matt said, seeming amused.

“What do you mean?  Asking someone for coffee?”  She almost blurted out that Matt, too, had asked her out for coffee when they’d first met at the hardware store. 

“No, I don’t mean the destination.  I mean the cover story.”

“What are you talking about?”

Half-grinning, Matt rolled his eyes.  “Emma, c’mon.  Granted I don’t have kids, but it seems to me that if you have a problem with the homework, you call the school.  Not invite a good-looking single mother out for ‘coffee.’”

Emma burst out a laugh.  “Okay, first of all, do we need the air quotes around ‘coffee’?”

Matt chuckled as he dipped the roller in the paint tin by his foot.  “It’s an obvious line; that’s all I’m saying.” 

“But you’ve just made a big assumption.”

“What’s that?”

“That he finds me good-looking.”  She shrugged as she pulled out the coffee canister.  “Maybe he doesn’t.”

Matt snorted at that.  “Yeah, right.”

She willfully had to suppress a smile, because in those two short words, Matt had given her an immense compliment.  Of course the only thing to do was to play it off.  “And speaking of
coffee
…do you want a cup?”

“Sure, okay.” 

As the coffee brewed, Emma leaned against the counter and tried not to watch Matt work.  Several moments passed before Matt said, “So are you gonna go?”  When Emma looked questioningly at him, he jerked his head toward the answering machine. 

“No,” she said, shaking her head.  “There’s no point.  Why would I get into some homework battle when Jake will be changing schools anyway?”  She didn’t acknowledge the implicit idea that the homework topic was a smokescreen for a date.  Because even if that
was
the case, she still didn’t see the point to going. 

“What if your house doesn’t sell right away?” Matt asked.  “Are you still leaving?”  His eyes were focused on the wall he was painting, and his question
seemed
casual…but she honestly couldn’t tell.  Something made her think that he cared about the answer.

“We’re definitely going,” she said.  Maybe a little too emphatically, but she wanted to be honest. “I’ll leave the house on the market and we’ll stay with my in-laws till I can get a place for us up there.  My late husband’s parents still live in New York,” she explained.

“Makes sense,” was all he said.

Soon, when the coffee was brewed, she poured him a cup and took her own mug to her office. 

Matt couldn’t help checking her out as she left the kitchen, watching the sway of her hips and that shapely ass that he just wanted to grab.  God, she made him hot.  But he had to forget it, at least for now.  While he was working at her house, nothing could happen.  She’d set that tone pretty clearly with her just-friends vibe.  But honestly, he was beginning to wonder if anything could ever happen between them.  As she’d said in no uncertain terms: she was leaving in a few weeks no matter what.  So why even contemplating starting something up with her? 

Later, on his drive home, he let the diagonal drift of snow against his windshield blur his thoughts.  When he had gotten into his truck, he’d discovered a voicemail from Pellican, asking to crash at Matt’s place for a couple days.  Apparently some pipes had frozen and burst in Pellican’s building and now he had no heat or hot water.  Before he started driving, Matt had texted him to say no problem, then texted Tragan and Bardo to let them know, in case they wanted to come over and hang out later. 

Now, he was stopped at a traffic light and the snow began to fall harder, suddenly splattering the glass with fat, wet drops.  Matt sped up his wipers and punched the defogger button, watching as a sea of headlights swirled across the intersection. 

Though he had decided to push the subject of Emma Slate out of his mind, he couldn’t help thinking about her reaction to that phone call today.  It was like she couldn’t see that the guy was making a move on her--almost like she didn’t
want
to see it.  She wasn’t just single; it was like she was totally self-contained.  At this point, Matt really couldn’t figure her out.