Blitzing Emily (18 page)

“Chocolate cake and diamonds? A girl could get used to this,” she said.

“I have to keep you sweet.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it. “Here.” He sliced off a bite with his fork and slipped it between her lips. The cake, with the tiniest hint of mint, was delicious. He leaned over the table. “You know I have to kiss you now.”

Listening to him speak was causing a fairly embarrassing reaction, along with the barest brush of his lips on the back of her hand. Her poor nipples could’ve cut glass. She squirmed on the chair, but it had nothing to do with nerves.

“In front of all these people?” she said. Then again, she really didn’t care about them right now. She couldn’t concentrate on anything or anyone but him.

“Of course, I am.” He moved closer. “Would you like me to?”

Someone obviously turned up the heat in the shop. They were lost in their own world.

Emily fed him a forkful of cake. A bit of frosting clung to the corner of his mouth. She wiped it off with her fingertip. He caught her hand in his and licked her finger. His eyes met hers.

“Let’s not waste it.”

She forgot to breathe.

“Excuse me,” Emily heard an excited female voice say. “Aren’t you Brandon McKenna?”

Two young women in their twenties stood beside their table. Both were focused on Brandon. They didn’t acknowledge her.

“I am,” Brandon said.

“Oh, my God,” the young woman said. Her pale blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail. She wore a skin-tight t-shirt and low-slung jeans. “I am such a Sharks fan. It’s so exciting to meet you!” She was bouncing on the balls of her feet. She thrust out her hand to him and said breathlessly, “I’m Kris. Could I have your autograph?” She began rooting through her purse for a pen.

“Sure.” He smiled. “By the way, this is Emily, my fiancée.”

The friend rolled her eyes. Kris handed Brandon a ballpoint pen. To Emily’s amazement, she pulled up her t-shirt, leaned over, and grinned.

“Right here.”

She wanted him to sign her breast, in a crowded coffee shop, in front of Emily.

Brandon averted his eyes from Kris’s perky assets. “I’m happy to sign a piece of paper for you, but I won’t sign that.” He gave her a look Emily hadn’t seen anywhere but in the game film they watched, quickly scribbled his signature on an unused napkin on the table, and said, “It was—nice—to meet you. Thanks for your support.”

Kris wasn’t getting the hint. She whipped out her cell phone.

“Let’s pose for a picture,” she said.

She tried to install herself on his lap while pushing her cell phone into her friend’s outstretched hand. He managed to shove his chair back before she succeeded. She grabbed the side of the table so she wouldn’t fall.

“Sugar, it’s time for us to leave.” He picked up their coffee cups and moved around the two women to take her arm.

“I’ll get more cake to go if you’d like,” he said in a low voice.

“You’re an asshole,” Kris hissed. “You—you screwed my friend, but you won’t let me sit on your lap?”

Emily opened her mouth to respond, but he pulled her away. “Keep moving,” he said.

She knew from the blank expression in Brandon’s eyes (and the flush that was slowly spreading up his neck) that he was much angrier than he appeared on the surface. He stopped at the counter for a moment, said something to the barista, and swept Emily out the front door.

“Let’s walk.” He handed Emily’s cup to her, slid an arm around her waist, and they hurried across the street to Marina Park. “We’ll go back for cake later.”

“Does that happen a lot?”

“No.” He shook his head.

“Do that young woman’s parents know she’s—Okay. I realize I’m a bit old-fashioned, but . . .” Emily’s voice trailed off. He was walking so fast Emily ran to keep up with him. She reached out for the waistband of his jeans and panted, “Wait a second.”

He tugged her over to a bench. They sat in silence for a while, watching children run and play along the sandy beach.

“So, I hate to even bring it up,” she said.

“I wasn’t involved with her.” His voice was tense. “I prefer women, not little girls.” He let out a long, frustrated sigh. “People approach me. Most of the time, they’re nice. They want an autograph or they want to talk a little. That stuff?” His eyes hardened again. “That hasn’t been happening as much lately, but I’ll never get used to it.” He thought for a moment. “Do you get people coming up to you?”

“It’s usually an arranged thing after a performance or at a benefit. I haven’t had anyone who’s wanted me to autograph their breast, though.”

He gave a low chuckle, and seemed to relax a little. “I’ll let you sign mine.” His arm slid around Emily’s shoulders again. “She was rude to you, too.”

“Listen, bruiser, that was the least of it, wasn’t it? I’m fine,” she said.

“Yes, you are.” His fingertips stroked her upper arm.

Emily’s face was hot. She knew she was blushing.

“The kids are cute,” he mused.

They watched a toddler in a hot pink cotton romper and pink Nikes lurch through the sand. Her blonde pigtails bounced with every step, and her eyes were cobalt blue marbles in a rounded baby face. She chanted, “Mama Mama,” as she moved.

“She’s sweet, isn’t she?” Emily commented.

A woman Emily believed was the little girl’s mother hurried after her with a jacket, a bucket, and a small shovel. Princess must have been digging in the sand.

“You want one of those?” Brandon asked, inclining his head toward the little girl.

“Maybe. Someday.”

The little girl plopped down on a well-padded rump. She couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry, and her mother swept her up in her arms. “We have to go, Kate,” she said.

Kate’s response was to screw up her little face. A couple of fat tears rolled down her cheeks. Kate’s mama put her down on the path in front of them, and Kate lurched toward Brandon at surprising speed.

She hurled herself onto his thigh, regarded him with wide eyes, and said, “Da.”

He laughed, and gently stroked her cheek. “Hello, Kate. I’m Brandon.”

She scrambled into his lap, sat up, and grinned.

“Katie, that’s not okay. We need to go.”

Two more big tears rolled down Kate’s cheeks. “Da,” she insisted.

“No, honey, Dada’s at work. We’ll see him later.” The woman hurried toward Brandon with outstretched hands and an apologetic smile.

“I should be so lucky,” he told Kate’s mama. “She’s beautiful.”

“How old is she?” Emily asked Kate’s mother. Kate crawled into Emily’s lap.

“She’s fourteen months old,” her mother said. “She’s fast.”

“I’ve heard about that,” Emily said. Emily gestured toward Kate, who leaned back against her chest. “Is this okay?”

“Sure,” her mother said.

Kate smelled like baby shampoo and laundry soap, overlaid with a sweet, clean scent. Her cotton romper was soft against Emily’s fingertips. Kate reached out for Brandon again. Emily relished the sweet weight for a moment, and then handed Kate to him.

“She’s in love with you already,” Emily said.

“I have that effect on women,” he deadpanned. “Katie, you’ve stolen my heart. What will I do?” He pressed a kiss onto her cheek. Kate let out a baby laugh and captured his face in her hands. She put her little mouth on his chin. To her surprise, Emily choked up.

“She’s giving kisses,” Emily managed to say.

“You’ll have one of your own someday,” Kate’s mother assured her.

Emily had heard that many times before, but she always dismissed it as something that happened to other people, not her. Today, Kate’s mother’s words pierced her heart.

“I have to get Kate to a doctor’s appointment,” Kate’s mother said, “or we’d love to stay.”

Brandon carefully transferred Kate back to her mother. “Bye, sweetheart. Maybe we can play at the park another day,” he said.

“Are you here often?” Kate’s mother asked.

He glanced over at Emily. “Not usually, but I see that’s going to change.”

Emily held out her hand. “I’m Emily. This is Brandon.”

“I’m Brianna. Maybe we’ll see you around.”

With a wave, Brianna and Kate hurried up the path to the parking lot. Brandon pulled Emily a little closer as they continued watching other children play in the sand.

“What do you think our baby would look like?”

“Hmm? What are you talking about?”

Emily was a million miles away. Actually, she imagined a small, soft bundle in her arms and the look on Brandon’s face when he saw her for the first time. Amy was always the one who longed for a home and a family. Suddenly, Emily knew why. She couldn’t rock a career to sleep at night, or watch it play in the sand.

He waved one big hand in front of Emily’s eyes. “You’re daydreaming.”

“Our baby? Are you on crack?” she said. He let out a laugh. Emily smiled in response. “Probably lots of blond curls, like you.”

“Maybe I want her to be a redhead, like you.”

“She’d probably be a spitfire, then.” She patted him on the thigh. “It could be a boy.”

“Maybe. I think I’d like a daughter,” he mused. Brandon stared out at the lake in front of them. “She sure was cute.”

Something new and sweet unfurled inside Emily. In only a few minutes’ time, the biological clock she believed was broken beyond all repair started ticking. Surprisingly, she knew the only man she wanted to remedy the problem sat next to her.

He hadn’t said a word about the time ticking away on their engagement. Then again, she hadn’t brought it up, either. Obviously, bookings had never been better. The arrangement worked well for both of them. At the same time, she enjoyed his company. She looked forward to seeing him. She realized that after all the hours of talking there was still more to talk about. She confided things to Brandon she never told anyone else before, and he seemed equally comfortable with her.

The silence stretched on as Brandon and Emily watched people strolling through the park. She tugged the ring off her finger. After all, he’d said thirty days.

“You probably want this back,” she said.

He turned toward her, and she put the ring in his palm. “What are you talking about, sugar?”

“The thirty days is up,” Emily said. It was hard to force the words out past the lump in her throat. It was best to keep this businesslike. “We agreed.”

She saw momentary confusion in his eyes, but as she watched, amusement took over. He raised one eyebrow. “So, you think you’ll get rid of me that easily.”

The tiniest flicker of hope came to life.

“Let’s see how it goes,” he said.

He took her hand in his, and put the ring back on her finger. Emily didn’t realize she was holding her breath till that moment. Their fingers tangled, he slid his arm around her shoulders again, and she moved closer. She saw the dimple in his cheek deepen as he smiled.

T
WO WEEKS LATER,
Emily was scheduled to take part in Seattle Opera’s annual fundraising auction. It was a great chance for those who loved opera to meet performers and bid on items such as dinner with major opera stars that typically performed at The Met, Covent Garden, or La Scala. It was formal, so she spent most of the afternoon getting ready to go.

She glanced out the upstairs window in time to see Brandon pulling into the driveway. He got out of the Land Rover, and her mouth went dry. He wore a tailored black tuxedo. For a guy who spent most of his time in threadbare Levis and rugby shirts, formalwear suited him. All that black, combined with his angelic blond curls and perpetually innocent expression, was scalding hot. He dazzled.

Emily’s biggest job at the moment was getting down the stairs without tripping over her dress. She could drool over him later.

She wore a royal blue silk, sleeveless gown that ruched from the deep V-neck down over her abdomen, pulling the fabric against her hips. The dress flowed into a full skirt with a short train. It fit her like it loved her. She left her stilettos in the closet; low-heeled sandals worked better, since she’d be on her feet all evening. The only jewelry she wore were Brandon’s engagement ring and the diamond studs he gave her.

She managed to sweep to the front door without sustaining a sports injury, and she pulled it open for him.

“You changed your mind about the powder blue tux,” she said. Her fingertips strayed down his sleeve.

“The designer in question was fresh out of that color.”

“Must have been last season, huh?”

“Sugar,” he reproved. “My mama would have my—my hide, and so would you.” He kissed her cheek. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing him in.

“You look beautiful,” he said; around his fingertip he wound a tendril of hair that had escaped the French twist she spent two hours in a stylist’s chair over that afternoon

“Oh, this old thing? I wear it to wash the floor in. You look great.”

“I’m glad you like it.” He picked her evening purse up from the hallway table and handed it to her. “You’ll need a wrap. It’s chilly out.”

She turned her back to retrieve it and heard him attempt to stifle a snort. He draped the black cashmere shawl she handed him around her shoulders.

“I hate covering all that up,” he said.

“You are such a flirt—”

“Shall we?” He offered his arm.

They walked out the front door of Emily’s house, and he opened the passenger door to his Land Rover. Emily looked up at the seat and wondered how she would get herself and her voluminous dress into it. She reached down to gather up the skirt of her dress in her hands.

Brandon noticed her difficulty. “I’ve got you.” He swept her up in his arms. “Are you sure you want to go to this thing?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Right now, no.” Her fingers tangled in his curls. He chuckled, and she felt spreading heat low in her abdomen. God, he was sexy. Her wrap slipped off her shoulders.

“Nice view,” he said.

“You’re looking down my dress.” She tried for outrage, but the effect was lost when she let out a laugh.

“Of course I am. Damn, sugar, you have some great lingerie.”

“I had to wear a push-up bra to make—why am I telling you this?”

“You can’t resist me.” He sniffed the air. “You smell great, too. What
is
that stuff?”