Blitzing Emily (16 page)

“They won’t.” He grinned. “It’s a defense thing. I once heard someone say that the coach could leave the offensive players in a room with the door shut. He’d come back, and there’d be nothing out of place. Defensive players? Furniture would be flying out of the windows.”

“So, you’re juvenile delinquents.”

“No. We’re more physical.” He thought for a moment. “What did your parents have to say?”

Emily couldn’t imagine why he wanted to know. She knew her parents would not be happy about a fake engagement. Hopefully, they would keep this little fact to themselves. Then again, after her father’s reaction, she didn’t think he’d be discussing it around the water cooler at the office anytime soon. Brandon’s voice sounded like it came from a distance.

“Hey, sugar. I think I lost you.” A big, warm hand patted her thigh. “What’s on your mind?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Nothing.”

“Maybe you should tell me about it.”

Emily wanted to tell him about it like she wanted a sexually transmitted disease. His mom and dad obviously never had a fight, while her parents made an episode of any daytime TV talk show look tame. Actually, she couldn’t say that. Her parents were more into the quiet and lethal arguments, the kind of stuff that left her so shaken she still cringed whenever she thought about it. One would think her former ballerina mom would be serene and unflappable. Hardly. Emily’s mom was passionate, excitable, wildly affectionate, and there was never a dull moment when she was around. Her father was an engineer. He would have been more comfortable drawing a diagram of his feelings than talking about them.

Emily shifted away from Brandon. “Do I have to?”

“That’s up to you.” His eyebrow shot up. “It’s not a good memory, is it?”

“Maybe you should tell me what you’re talking about.”

“There are tears in your eyes,” he continued. “I’ll bet you think my parents were straight out of a romance novel.”

“They were happy.” Emily pictured two little boys with unruly blond curls, and the two loving parents that couldn’t wait to spend any time at all with their sons.

“It took them a long time. Like I said, my dad traveled a lot, and my mom worried he wasn’t being faithful.” Brandon leaned toward her. “Let’s just say I overheard one too many conversations between my mom and my aunt Pattie.”

She turned to face him. “Did he cheat?”

“If there was one thing my dad would never do, it was cheat. There were other women around. Dylan and I went to his games when we were kids, and we saw them. There was always someone who set her cap for my dad.”

“He wasn’t taking them up on it?” She twisted her hands in her lap.

“There’s nobody else for my dad but my mama.”

They sat silently for a while. Emily’s stomach churned. She really didn’t want to talk about this anymore.

“I wish I could say the same,” she said.

She got up and walked into the kitchen. There had to be something to eat in there. She pulled the refrigerator door open and was reaching for an apple when she heard Brandon’s voice behind her.

“So, let’s talk about it.”

“How about an apple?” Emily said. “There’s several in here. There are oranges in a bowl on the table, too.” She straightened, and he pushed the door closed with his palm.

“If we’re going to get to know each other, maybe this is something we need to talk about,” he said.

Emily took a deep breath. He leaned against the refrigerator, arms folded, waiting for her to speak. She turned to the sink to rinse off the apple. He was still waiting when she tried to leave the kitchen. She couldn’t get around him.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Emily said in a low voice. After this afternoon’s festivities, another confrontation was not in her plans for the evening. At all.

“If even thinking about it makes you look like you’re going to cry, maybe we should.”

“This is not open for discussion,” she said.

He stepped aside so she could pass. He followed her into the living room, tossed himself down on the couch next to her, and took the remote from her hand.

“I need that.” Emily’s voice shook.

“What are you afraid of?” he asked softly.

“Maybe you should go home now.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t. I’ve obviously struck a nerve, sugar. Why are you hiding from me?” He pinned her shoulder to the couch with his big body. She gave him a shove as she tried to push away from him. “Hey, hey, hey. What’s going on here?”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“I guess not.” He shoved the remote as far down behind the couch cushion as he could. “We’ll sit here, then.”

“Fine.”

All Emily heard was the soft tick-tock of the clock on the mantel and their breathing. She crossed her arms over her chest, crossed and recrossed her legs, drummed on her thigh, swung her foot back and forth. She wouldn’t look at him, even though she knew he was looking at her. The silence and the tension surrounding it grew. She felt like she could reach out and touch it. One big hand came down to cover her kneecap. She still didn’t look up.

“I’ve got all night,” he drawled, and Emily rounded on him—well, as much as she could while he pinned her shoulder to the couch cushion.

“You don’t want to hear this. Why would you even care?” she cried out. “This is just make-believe. We don’t have a relationship, and stop pretending like we do. My parents’ divorce was painful. It still hurts me. Why should I talk about it with someone who won’t even be here in a month? I can’t believe you think that I should tell you everything . . .”

She fought for control of her emotions. Normally, she didn’t cry. She’d cried more in the last three days than she had in a year, though, and she wasn’t going to cry again right now. She blinked her tears into submission. She pulled the ring off her finger.

“This is not going to work. I’m giving this back to you. You can get a refund or a store credit, and I’ll deal with it,” she said.

Brandon took her hand in both of his. “I don’t want it back.”

“I’m not wearing it.”

He pushed the ring back down onto her finger. “Are you done yet?” He grew calmer as Emily grew more upset, and this was not acceptable. “You’re just pissed off. Better let me know how mad you are.”

“No, I’m not going there with you. This is all your fault. If you’d left me alone, this would never have happened, and I—” She was so frustrated that she didn’t know what to say, so she blurted out the first thing that might hurt: “I
hate
you.”

“Pretty powerful, sugar,” he soothed. “You’re bringing out the big guns, aren’t you? Keep it up. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Maybe I want you to.”

“What if you do? You don’t. You want someone to yell at, really. You could yell at me some more.” He tipped her chin up, and looked into her eyes. “I can take it.”

Silence fell. They sat for a few minutes. Nobody moved. She studied her lap. Emily heard his voice in her ear one more time. “How did you find out that your dad was cheating on your mom?”

“How did you know that?” She shook all over. The heat of her anger (and embarrassment at her behavior) was fading into a cold she’d never known before. Losing it in front of anyone else wasn’t something she indulged in. She prided herself on keeping a tight rein on her emotions. She’d have to work harder on it.

Brandon’s response was to slide his arm around her shoulder.

“Did you see him? Did someone else tell you about it?”

“The neighbor,” she whispered.

“She or he saw it?”

Emily nodded. She closed her eyes. In a second, she was back there, and she wrapped her arms around herself again.

“What happened then?”

“I told my mom.” Forcing the words out was a Herculean effort for her.

“What did she say?”

Her voice sounded like it was coming from a million miles away. “It was awful. She was so pale, and I felt like I slapped her. She asked me who told me, and then she went upstairs, packed a bag for Amy and me, and we went to stay overnight at our grandma’s house. By the time we came home, my dad was staying in the guest room. Mom wouldn’t talk about it.”

“Did you try talking to your dad?”

“We didn’t see him. He worked all the time.” She rubbed her nose with one hand. Brandon was stroking her upper arm, slowly. He listened, and he didn’t seem to judge. To her surprise, the tension drained out of her as she spoke, and she sagged against him.

“Were you close before?”

“We were closer.”

“What do you think would happen if you tried talking to him about it?”

She swallowed hard. “We don’t.” The unwritten rule of the Hamilton family: Never,
ever
talk about what happened with Mom and Dad. It wasn’t open for discussion. She’d tried, more than once over the years. It didn’t go well.

“Maybe you should tell me what happened at dinner, then.”

Emily took a deep breath. “My parents aren’t happy about a fake engagement. They’re worried other people will find out.” She forced lightness into her voice. “Plus, we’re making a mockery of the institution of marriage, according to them.”

“Is that so?” Brandon appeared to be stifling a laugh. He patted her knee with his free hand. She felt herself relaxing more and more.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you. I don’t hate you.” For the second time today, she was apologizing. She evidently enjoyed the taste of shoe leather. Before she could stop herself, she reached up to kiss his cheek. His stubble tickled her nose. She couldn’t stop the cross between a snort and a giggle she made.

“I know you don’t.” He moved closer, turning toward her. “I’m sorry for bringing up something that made you cry.” His arm slid to her waist and tightened around her. He took her cheek in his free hand. Electricity sizzled over Emily’s skin. He wasn’t going to kiss her, was he?

Seconds later, his mouth brushed over hers, the barest contact. “Are we okay?”

Adrenaline arced through her. In an instant, she was breathless, boneless, and nodding at him like one of those bobbing-head dog figurines people used to put on the back window ledge of their cars.

“Um, yeah. Fine.”

His voice dropped. He stroked her lower lip with his thumb. “You’re sure about that?”

She started nodding again, and his hand slipped to the back of her neck. He was definitely going to kiss her. Her eyelids fluttered shut.

She felt the tender touch of his lips on hers, the way her mouth molded to his. She couldn’t help but smile a little. He kissed her as though he had all the time in the world. He lingered, he teased, and Emily wondered how she managed to get through every other day of her life before experiencing what it was like to kiss him. She felt the tip of his tongue sketch the seam of her lips, and she tasted mint as that tongue slipped into her mouth. Mint, and some indescribable thing that she could never identify to anyone else, but knew she’d never forget. She reached up blindly to slide her fingers into his hair, which curled around them like liquid satin. The melting spread.

She couldn’t remember why she originally objected to his kissing her, but she’d officially changed her position on it. He was really, really good at it, she discovered, and she wanted more. She felt the warmth of his breath in her hair as she snuggled against him. She tried to catch her breath.

“It might be tough to be engaged to a woman who hated me,” he continued. “I’ve dated women who’ve hated me. I’ve even slept with a few of them. They weren’t wearing my ring, though.”

Emily had to smile. “There’s a first time for everything.”

She heard his low chuckle. He hadn’t let go of her. She could get used to this.

“Back to the subject.” He thought for a moment. “Maybe you should talk with your dad about all this.”

Immediately her insides clenched. “I don’t think so.”

“Hear me out. It’s been a lot of years. It still hurts. Maybe you need to hear his side of what happened. Maybe he has something he wants to tell you.”

“How could he justify it?”

“Maybe he wouldn’t. He might like to say he’s sorry.”

He propped his feet up on the coffee table, crossing his legs at the ankle. Emily laid her head against his shoulder. They were lost in their own thoughts for a few minutes.

“Didn’t you mention dessert earlier? If you’ll drive, I’ll buy,” Emily said. “How about some ice cream?”

Brandon got to his feet and reached out for her hand. “I’m in. Let’s go, sugar.”

Chapter Ten

B
EING ENGAGED REALLY
brought the women out of the woodwork. Brandon glanced over at a line of several hundred people snaking around the side of Sharks Stadium, waiting for Sharks players’ autographs. One-third of them were females who appeared to be between twenty-two and forty. In other words, he was going to spend the next couple of hours giving the words “No, thank you” a workout.

He sat at a long table with four of his teammates inside the Sharks’ pro store. Signing autographs was part of his job description. The team wanted the best PR they could produce. Brandon wanted to remind the team’s front office he was someone the Sharks would regret cutting or trading due to community backlash if his contract extension wasn’t offered.

Brandon wasn’t opposed to female attention. He enjoyed it. He enjoyed the attention he received from a certain diva named Emily who wore his engagement ring the most, however. Unfortunately, Emily was out of town performing. He missed everything about her, up to and including when she got bossy with him. His little diva could be compared to a pampered, purebred Persian. She had no problem tilting her nose in the air, swishing her tail, and walking away when he was pissing her off. She’d throw a sweet smile over her shoulder, though, and he was helpless again.

The perfume she wore drove him crazy, too. He remembered her scent when she was nowhere around: It smelled like peaches and freshly mown grass.

Speaking of helpless, the first woman of marriageable age skipped over his teammates Zach and Tom like they had failed to shower recently. She had long, dark hair. The third finger of her left hand was bare. Her makeup applicator was set on “thick.” She wore stilettos, a micro-mini, and a low-cut top showcasing her after-market breasts to their best advantage. She extended a team cap to Brandon, flashing him a huge, whitened smile. “Would you sign this, please?”