Blitzing Emily (7 page)

“Let’s sit down for a few minutes,” he interrupted, and he tugged her over to the living room couch. He instinctively grabbed for the remote, and then dropped it on the couch cushion. “I take it you didn’t want to talk to him.”

“No. No, I didn’t.” Emily shook her head, and flinched. Evidently, the headache was still there. “Now I’ll have to go back to all these people I work with and tell them I’m not engaged, that it’s not true, and I—I—”

She turned her face away, but she wasn’t fast enough. He saw more tears splash off the hands she clenched together in her lap. He knew women who manipulated him and everyone else with their tears, but Emily wasn’t one of them. She was trying so hard to be brave. All he wanted to do was comfort her, but he knew she wouldn’t accept it at that moment.

He took both her shoulders in his hands and gently turned her toward him. “Don’t cry. It’s all right. We’ll think of something.”

“I’m not usually such a baby.” She started to rise from the couch; he caught her hand and pulled her back down.

“Wait.” He studied her for a few moments. It was time to man up, although she was probably going to slap his face off. “I have an idea.”

“Okay.” Her expression was cautious. Brandon hadn’t let go of Emily’s hand. He gave it an experimental squeeze.

“Here’s the thing. Let’s stay engaged for a little while.”

“We’re not really engaged in the first place.” Emily shook her head. “We can’t do that, can we?”

“Of course, we can. It’s between you and me. This works for both of us. It’s positive publicity for everyone. The team’s happy with me, my ex-girlfriend will finally get the hint, and your ex-boyfriend will be jealous as hell. There’s no downside to this.” Okay, so far so good. She looked more shocked than angry. He hadn’t gotten away scot-free, though: Emily’s eyes were narrowing. Uh-oh.

“The team would be happy about this? Why would they even care?”

This ought to be fun,
he told himself. He folded his lips and examined the ceiling for a moment. “It’s a public relations thing. I’m a bit of a hell raiser. Well, I
was
.” He resisted the impulse to squirm. “There’s no downside,” he repeated.

“Just tell me the truth. You’re quite fond of that, aren’t you?” Evidently her mama hadn’t raised any stupid children, either. He took a deep breath.

“I’m in the middle of contract negotiations—my agent is—and there was a little problem. This will fix it. Well, it’ll take the heat off.” He tried to look reassuring. “Again, there’s no downside for either of us.”

“There is, too.” It seemed that Miss Emily had a redhead’s temper. “We don’t know each other.”

“We can pull this off,” he insisted. “We’ll get to know each other. Let’s give it a month.”

“What are we going to tell our families?”

He shrugged one magnificent shoulder. “Tell them we’re engaged. They’ll be fine with it.”

“It’s not going to work,” Emily insisted. “Won’t your family flip out? Mine will. They’ll never believe this. You think it’s okay to lie to everyone in both our lives?”

Brandon pinned her with his eyes. “Maybe you should tell me what else David had to say when he called.”

Emily shrugged her shoulders, and rubbed her face a little. “What do you mean? Oh. He said he’d had five booking calls already today, which is amazing, and I’m now singing a lead role at Santa Fe Opera as a result.”

“You lied to him,” he pointed out. It wasn’t gentlemanly, but one had to take the opportunity when it presented itself.

Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes flew wide. “I did not.” She was the picture of injured outrage, and it was all he could do not to laugh. At the same time, it was high time he established who was in charge here:
Him
.

Brandon narrowed his eyes in response. “Hey, sugar, I saw your face light up when he called. You didn’t exactly set him straight about us.”

“I—I—” she sputtered. He leaned toward her.

“This works for both of us. You get what you want, I get what I want. No harm, no foul.” He stuck out his hand. “Will you agree to be engaged to me for thirty days?”

He had a point. Emily knew he had a point. At the same time, there was one last little problem.

“What happens if someone finds out this isn’t real?”

“Hey. It’s not going to happen. Don’t be so negative.” She let out a snort, and he continued. “Plus, you get to hang around me for another month. Remember, there are lots of women who’d love to spend more time with me.”

“Is your ego always this big, or only on days ending in ‘y’?” she teased.

“I know you didn’t mean that,” he chided. He extended his hand once more. “Are you in?”

All she had to do was pretend to be his fiancée for a month. Piece of cake. She put her hand inside of his.

“Yes.”

“Thirty days.”

“Yes. Thirty days.” She gazed at him for a moment. He could practically see the wheels turning in her head. “What happens when the thirty days are up?”

His smile was positively mischievous, and he still held her hand. “We go our separate ways. Again, no harm, no foul.”

“Fine.” They shook hands, and he brought the back of Emily’s hand to his lips. He barely brushed her skin, and gave her a slow smile.

“Now, go get dressed, because we have things to do today. I’ll even take you out to lunch.”

He was right. She had to know he was right. It would work for both of them. How bad could it be, anyway?

Chapter Five

“C
OME ON, SUGAR
,” Brandon shouted up the staircase. “Time’s a-wastin’.”

“Chill out,” Emily yelled back, and clutched her head.
Ow.
She moved as quickly as she could. Some people had no respect for the recently concussed.

She stepped into a pair of flats
. No high heels today,
she thought mournfully as she surveyed the destroyed Italian leather boots lying on the bedroom floor, a constant reminder of how much those damn things cost.

The ponytail she’d gingerly brushed her hair into might disguise the stitches. She swallowed a couple of pain killers before pulling on a pair of pants, a soft yellow silk and cotton sweater, and a strand of pearls. She spent fifteen minutes searching her bathroom for the silver circlet of hearts ring she wore on her left middle finger. She had misplaced it somewhere.

She was off to rehearsal, whether she felt like it or not. Of course, this brought another argument with Brandon.

“You are not going,” he told her. “You are going right back to bed.”

“I have to be there, even if I don’t think I can sing.” She pulled the car keys out of her purse. He took them out of her hand.

“You are
not
driving. Are you nuts? Did you even listen to the doctor?”

“This is my job. I—”

He cut her off, as usual. “I’ll take you. If you insist on going, we’ll go, but if you get worse, we’re going back to the emergency room.” He glanced down at himself. “We’ll need to stop at team headquarters so I can change my clothes and pick up my car, too.”

“Fine,” she said. She shut the door hard, even if it hurt. Door-slamming hadn’t been her preferred method of communication since junior high, but right now, it was working for her. She heard the soft sound of his laughter in response.

She knew he was just trying to help, but she hadn’t had to answer to anyone but David regarding her life and her schedule for a while. Perhaps she could be a little more gracious right now.

Brandon wore a playful smile as he stood in the entryway of Emily’s house. “There she is,” he purred as she made her way downstairs. He’d evidently forgotten the argument they just had. “Shall we?”

“Absolutely.”

She was still sore from yesterday. The headache was under control, thanks to her new best friend Mr. Ibuprofen, but nobody could tell her she had wimped out by not showing up at rehearsal this morning. She grabbed her handbag. Brandon pulled the front door open, they walked out onto the porch, and she heard, “Miss Hamilton!” Emily saw flashes and TV cameras—
what the hell was going on?
She reached out for a handful of Brandon’s t-shirt.

“Where did all of these people come from?” she asked as his arm slid around her waist.

“Smile,” he murmured.

“Brandon, why are they here?”

“I have no idea,” he insisted, but he wouldn’t look at her. He looked at everything (and everyone) but her. He was lying.

Emily pretended like she was cuddling shyly in his arms. She said into his ear, “Did you call someone?”

His lips grazed her cheek. “My agent may have had something to do with this.” She tried to bring her shoe down on his toes. He was too fast for her. “Be nice, sugar.” Reporters were approaching them.

“Congratulations, Brandon,” one of the reporters called out to him. “Another one bites the dust, huh? How about a smile?”

His arms tightened around her. “Do you know Emily?”

“Hello,” she said to the people currently sticking microphones in her face.

“Miss Hamilton, Shelly Case from MSNBC. How long have you and Mr. McKenna been seeing each other?” The look on the woman’s face made the hair stand up on the back of Emily’s neck. “Unfriendly” was an understatement.

“A little while,” Emily spoke over the din.

“How long?” Ms. Case persisted. Maybe it was better not to answer her question.

“Emily. You must be thrilled. When did he propose?” another woman called out.

“A few days ago.”

“How did it happen? What did he say to you?”

She felt Brandon stiffen a little against her, but the brilliant smile hadn’t left his lips. Those same lips touched her forehead. Emily resisted the impulse to gasp. Pretend or not, she was starting to wonder what it would be like to kiss him.

“We’d rather keep that private,” Brandon interrupted.

“Were you surprised?” another female reporter asked Emily.

“Yes, you could say that.”

Laughter rippled through the crowd. Brandon murmured, “Good one,” into her ear.

“Let’s have a look at the ring,” someone else called out.

“We’re picking it up this morning,” Brandon assured the guy. Emily remembered the small silver ring she’d worn for the past couple of years, and resisted the impulse to flinch. Hopefully, it hadn’t fallen down the drain in the bathroom sink.

“Anastasia Lee says that you’re on the rebound, Brandon. What are your thoughts on that?”

“No comment.” His expression didn’t change.

“When’s the wedding, Emily?”

“We’re still discussing it. Maybe you could help us with that.”

The reporters laughed again, and Shelly Case spoke up once more.

“What are your thoughts on Brandon’s recent off-the-field incident, Emily?”

Emily shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking—”

Luckily, Brandon interrupted her. “Listen, folks, I could stand here for hours and show off my beautiful fiancée, but we have things to take care of. Thanks for coming out,” he said, and walked Emily to the passenger side of her Escape. She waved goodbye to the reporters and got in. Brandon was still talking to the group outside the car, but Emily couldn’t quite hear what was said. She heard another wave of laughter, though. He jumped into the driver’s seat, snapped his seatbelt on, and they drove away.

Emily was stunned into silence at the sheer number of news trucks that lined both sides of the quiet street she lived on. He glanced over at her. “You okay, sugar?”

“I’m fine. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t play dumb.” She folded her arms across her chest.

“Okay. You got me.” He flashed Emily a naughty-little-boy grin. “I talked to my agent while you were in the shower. He asked if we’d pose for some pictures and maybe a little interview. I thought they’d catch up with us later today, but hopefully, they’ll leave us alone now. You’re not mad, are you?”

“I wish you would have told me.”

“Then it wouldn’t be a surprise.” She shook her head. “C’mon. It wasn’t too bad,” he coaxed. “There’ll be a nice picture of you on the news.”

“I haven’t even told my family.”

Speaking of family, it might be nice if she gave them a call, despite their unavailability up to this point. Amy was going to freak out. Her parents were going to lose their grip—especially her dad, which was why she hadn’t called him from the hospital yesterday. She loved her dad, but she didn’t depend on him for help, and she hadn’t for a long time now. What was she thinking? Maybe she could avoid telling them.

“Oh, they’re about to find out,” he interrupted. Brandon patted her thigh with one big hand. “I have to pick up my stuff, we’ll go to your rehearsal, and then we’ll have some lunch.” His voice dropped a bit. “Are you up for this?”

“Sure.” This must have been one of those “Be careful what you wish for, you might get it” moments.

Brandon pulled up in front of the team headquarters a short time later. The debris from yesterday’s parking lot misadventure had been cleared away. Someone had even shoveled the lot. Maybe Emily should have waited a day.

“Listen. I don’t think you want to spend time in the locker room while I’m getting dressed. I’ll take you to the lobby, where you can have a seat.”

“No. I’ll wait out here.”

“I’ll be back.”

He sprinted through the front doors of the facility, and Emily pulled her phone out of her purse. She left more messages. Her mom still wasn’t home, and Amy must have been sleeping in after yesterday. Even if it was cold outside the car’s interior was toasty warm, and she drifted off for a few minutes.

Emily awoke to a blast of freezing cold air and Brandon’s voice. “Hey. Let’s get in my rig, and we’ll pick yours up later.” A black, late-model Land Rover was idling in the parking spot next to her. “We gotta go, or you’ll be late. Come on.”

They arrived at McCaw Hall after the fastest trip across the bridge to Seattle she’d ever experienced. He wasn’t reckless, but he made it clear he was getting to his destination as quickly as humanly possible. He also insisted on walking her inside.

“Brandon, I am fine. I can do this myself. I’ve been doing it for a long time. Really.”

“Let me make sure that you’re going to be okay.” He pulled the auditorium door open for her, and she made her way to the backstage area. Their footsteps echoed down a long parquet hallway.