No Denying You (5 page)

Most people might be able to leave on a trip without having a root canal first, but Emma should have learned by now that she wasn’t most people. They had been putting in some long hours over the past couple of weeks to prepare for being away from the office for a few days. Now their flight was scheduled for this afternoon and she’d discovered she needed an emergency root canal just hours before they left for the airport.

The nagging discomfort that she had been feeling on and off for a month had turned into a full-fledged throbbing, at which point she finally broke down and went to her dentist. They had scheduled her procedure for today and she had little choice but to keep it. She couldn’t risk going out of town and having the pain become unbearable. She might have bent the truth a bit when she assured them that her traveling companion would be taking care of her. But she had already arranged for a car to pick her up at her apartment and drop her at the airport. She knew her mouth would
probably be numb for the entire flight. After they arrived in Miami, she would crash for the evening and sleep in the next day while Brant went to his meeting. No problem, right?

Hours later, she knew she might have underestimated the whole thing. Despite the Novocain, her mouth was throbbing when she left the dentist’s office. They had given her a prescription for pain medication and advised her to take a pill as soon as possible. Maybe someone with a better pain tolerance could have avoided it altogether; unfortunately, she wasn’t that person, so she stumbled into the pharmacy before heading home. She had never taken any prescription pain medication before, but she assumed that if she took a pill right before she left for the airport, it would kick in during the flight and give her a pain-free trip.

Damn it—of course she should have packed earlier, but as usual she had left it to the last minute. She was forced to grab a suitcase and fill it with whatever was clean. It also occurred to her that she should probably change into a pair of jeans, but her short skirt would have to do. She couldn’t seem to remove the hand that cradled her jaw for more than a few seconds. Maybe she was a baby, but it hurt like hell.

Five minutes before her taxi was due, she poured a glass of water and took the white pill from the dentist, cursing as she tossed the medication bottle in her carry-on bag and the pills inside spilled out everywhere. She had just grabbed the bottle intending to put them back in when a horn sounded. Shit. Throwing the bottle in
the cabinet, she grabbed her bags and was hurrying to the door when it hit her. She had forgotten to pack underwear; she debated just buying some in Miami, but knowing her luck, she would never get away from Brant to do it. Running back into the bedroom as the taxi horn sounded again, she pulled her lingerie drawer completely out and dumped it in the top of her bag—no time to pick out her favorites today. The last thing she needed was to miss her ride to the airport. She could just imagine the smirk on Brant’s face if she missed the plane she was blackmailing him into taking. Not going to happen.

Brant had arrived at the airport a couple of hours early as he always did. Emma was right—he did have some hang-ups. When you were forced to rush, things got overlooked and mistakes were made. If you planned things carefully, there were fewer problems in life. He closed his laptop and looked at his watch again. The plane would start boarding in fifteen minutes and Emma hadn’t arrived yet. By this point he should have known better than to be surprised. If she didn’t show, he would fly to Miami, attend his meeting and arrange a flight home for the next day.

Before he could ponder the strange feeling of disappointment that had crept in at that thought, he saw Emma racing toward him with a huge smile on her face. He rose to his feet, rooted in place. She reserved that genuine smile for her friends. Any smile bestowed on him was of the sarcastic variety. He had never been
the recipient of the real thing from her. He cleared his throat, ready to launch the first verbal bullet when she threw her arms around him. What the fuck?

“Oh my God, I made it! My taxi driver almost left me because I forgot my panties and someone hit someone else and we got stuck in traffic. Whewww!”

Brant stood frozen in shock with her in his arms. She had her body curved tightly to his with no sign of letting go. When she started making sniffing noises against his neck, he pulled back.

“Mmmm, you smell so good. You always do. I could just eat you up.”

What had gotten into her? He didn’t know how to react. He may have been frozen in place, but his cock wasn’t. It was standing at attention, desperate to get closer to the female curves still pressed against him. “Emma . . . is something . . . are you . . . drunk?”

She finally stepped back out of his embrace, giving him a lopsided, glassy-eyed smile.

“’Course not, silly. I haven’t had anything but water today. My dentist told me, nothing cold or hot.” Looking adorably confused, she added, “So what am I supposed to do? That covers everything.”

He was starting to feel as confused as she looked. He knew she had had a dental appointment, but had assumed it was for a cleaning. “What exactly did you have done today? Emma . . . Emma, can you focus for a minute?” She looked up from her inspection of the buttons on his shirt. “Did you have a cleaning appointment today?”

“Nope.” She shook her head vigorously for extra emphasis. “I got a root thingie done.” Then tears gathered in her eyes as she added, “It really hurt.”

He was starting to get the picture now. Just how much nitrous oxide had they given her? Shouldn’t it have worn off by now? She looked like she was as high as a kite. God, he was glad she had called a taxi. “Emma, maybe we should cancel this trip and get you home. I don’t think you’re in any condition to fly.”

The tears that had gathered in her eyes before now started flooding down and he placed both of his hands on her shoulders for support. “Please don’t leave me. I already told everyone that you’re coming. If you don’t, I’ll have to deal with my family on my own.”

As he prepared to convince her, the PA system announced the final boarding for their flight. Apparently, he had missed the first announcements. In surprise, he watched the tears stop and her head come up in determination. She waved her ticket in her hand and wobbled toward the attendant. Shit, if he didn’t go with her, she would probably get thrown off the damn plane by an air marshal.

He reached her, sliding an arm around her shoulders to steady her. “Are you sure about this?”

Giving him a blinding smile, she said, “Yep. Let’s do this.” Really, if he had any sense he would listen to the voice in his head screaming a protest, and he would have turned and run the other way. Instead, the protective instinct he was born with reared its head and he found himself walking down the corridor toward the
door of the plane with her securely under his arm. Once she put her head on his shoulder, he felt something unfamiliar inside of him flicker.
Get a grip, man. This is no different from helping Ava would be. You don’t feel anything for Emma. Remember all of the ways she chaps your ass on a daily basis. . . .

His pep talk was a miserable failure. There was no way he could convince his body that the woman beside him was like a sister to him. His cock wasn’t buying into it. The little fucker was a lot smarter than he gave him credit for being.

Even after being blackmailed into the trip, Brant had still grudgingly let Emma use his frequent-flier miles to book seats in first class. He had never been more grateful to have a few more inches to put between himself and another person. If they were in the three side-by-side seats in coach, she would probably either be in his lap the entire flight or worse yet, some stranger’s lap on her other side. He led her to the window seat and, after a moment’s pause, leaned down to fasten her seat belt. He stored both their carry-ons in the overhead bin before buckling in beside her.

She grabbed his hand as soon as he was seated. “Takeoffs always makes me nervous.”

So, he sat stiffly next to her until they were in the air. For two people who had never touched, they were certainly making up for lost time today. He was surprised she had even booked their seats together.

As soon as he could, he stood to get his laptop, intent on putting some distance between them, even if it was
only mentally. But as he tried to study some spreadsheets, he felt her eyes on him as if they were burning into him. He tried his best to ignore it until she said, “You’re so hot. Really. Even when you’re being an asshole, which is most of the time, you still rock those suits.”

His head jerked toward hers, his mouth falling open in surprise. Still she kept on as if discussing the weather. “We’ve all talked about it and agreed. You are completely fuckable until you open your mouth.” Her last sentence seemed to echo around them within the small confines of the airplane. He quickly looked around to see if anyone had overheard her. The lady across the aisle flashed him a disapproving look.

Turning back to Emma, he cleared his throat and asked, “I . . . um . . . thanks, I guess. I rather hate to ask this, but who is ‘we’?”

She put her hand up in front of him and started counting on her fingers.

“Beth, Ella, Claire and Suzy.” Hell, this was worse than he thought. Why would they be discussing him? Sure, maybe it was a little bit of an ego boost to be considered fuckable—at least until he considered the part about him opening his mouth. As he was floundering for a reply, she put her hand on his thigh and his thoughts scattered all to hell. “I need to go pee; can you help me?”

Fuck! Just when he thought things couldn’t get more uncomfortable. “Emma . . . I don’t . . . Er, can’t you hold it? I don’t think it’s a great idea for you to be up walking around.”

When she cupped herself like a child, he felt himself go light-headed. “I can’t wait. I’ll hold your hand, I promise.”

Of course, the damn bathroom was several rows away. He didn’t relish the thought of her wobbling around, but he could also live without being peed on.

On a loud sigh of resignation, he unbuckled his seat belt and then turned to do hers as well. He extended a hand to her as he stood, pulling her gently into the aisle in front of him. When she stood there looking around in confusion, he put a hand on either side of her hips and pushed her gently down the aisle. She stopped once to compliment a woman on her shirt and another time to introduce herself to a small boy who was playing with a plastic car. When he finally got her to the restroom door, he opened it and pushed her forward.

Then he stood outside the door for what seemed like an hour before he heard a crash inside. Alarmed, he knocked on the door, “Emma, are you all right?” No answer, so he called her name twice more. When she didn’t answer, he was at a loss.

He couldn’t just leave her in there. The door lock showed green, meaning that she hadn’t locked it. “Emma, if you don’t answer, I’m coming in there.” This time he heard her say what sounded like “help.” That was all he needed. He opened the door and gaped at the sight. Emma was bent over the toilet with no shirt on. His eyes almost popped out of his head as he caught sight of her breasts pushing against the fabric of her lacy black bra. “What the . . .”

He finally took his eyes off her chest long enough to notice her trying to pull something that looked like her shirt from the toilet. “Help me! I took my shirt off to wash a stain out of it, and I accidentally dropped it in the toilet. I don’t know what happened, but it started flushing and now it’s trying to eat my shirt!”

“Emma . . . drop the shirt.”

She jerked up to look at him, and the thin silk top flew from her hand, sucked loudly down the toilet. They both stood staring down for a full minute as if the shirt would magically reappear. He finally realized that he was standing in the doorway where anyone could come by and see Emma half-dressed. Shit, what was he supposed to do now? “Do you have another shirt in your carry-on?”

Shaking her head, she said, “No, just panties.” Yeah, that’s exactly the mental picture he needed to go along with the tits he was now trying hard not to stare at. He pushed the door shut behind them, wedging against her in the small space. Not a good idea, but he didn’t want anyone looking at her. He expected a flight attendant to come by at any moment and accuse them of trying to join the Mile High club; in his freaking dreams, maybe. He started unbuttoning his shirt and she giggled nervously.

“You’d better be careful; that toilet is dangerous,” she warned.

As far as he was concerned, the only danger in the bathroom was of his cock exploding through the zipper it was uncomfortably pressed against. He got the last
button on his shirt undone and struggled to pull the shirt loose from his slacks. Finally, he unbuckled his belt and managed to free the material. He pulled off his button-down shirt and then started easing his undershirt off. He was damned grateful to be wearing layers today, because otherwise the men on the plane would be in for a real visual treat.

Next he handed her the white T-shirt, saying, “Put that on.” It was a testament to how out of it she was from the medication that she stood holding it in confusion. “Honey, if you don’t put that on, you’re going to have to march back down the aisle and spend the rest of the flight in that skimpy bra.”

He wanted to fall to his knees and offer up a prayer of thanks when she said, “Ohhh, I gotcha.” He started pulling his shirt back on while she wiggled against him, pressing her breasts into his chest as she maneuvered his T-shirt over her head. They were both breathing heavily by the time she finished. Probably for two completely different reasons, though. He was starting to feel like the only thing missing in the bathroom was a stripper pole and a stack of ones. When he opened the door to leave, an elderly woman was tapping her foot while giving him a disapproving scowl.

“I . . . um, was just helping my wife. She lost her shirt.”
Shit! Yeah, that sounds so much better.
Behind him, Emma giggled as he took her arm and pulled her in front of him. “Hush,” he whispered in her hair. The situation already looked bad enough. Was it his imagination or was everyone on the damned plane grinning
at them? He pushed her into her seat, wanting to escape the scrutiny as quickly as possible.