Now and Then (12 page)

“Honey, Daddy’s taking me. He’s been with me every step of the way,” their mother said, her voice wavering.

“Well, I’m coming too,” Layla insisted.

“Me, too,” Emma said.

“When you girls get ready to settle down, I want you to remember how important it is that you choose a man who will be your partner in every way,” their mother said earnestly. “Don’t settle for attraction or money, because you’ll be sorry if you do. Choose someone who’s your best friend.”

“We will, Mom, but stop dispensing advice like something’s going to happen to you. It’s not,” Layla said. “Now let’s cook our asses off and be glad I brought a case of really good wine.”

Emma chopped celery and apples quietly, lost in thoughts about her Mom. She’d never considered anything happening to her parents. They’d always been there for her, and the thought of them not being there was only abstract.

When Tom and Jenny Marlowe came in, Cole was with them, and Emma blinked hard to hold back the tears that threatened to fall as she looked at him.
In his worn jeans and flannel shirt, he was the epitome of the comfort she needed at the moment. Pretending he meant nothing to her would be excruciating today.

She turned back to her work, knowing that staying busy would help. Layla
was working on a large glass of wine and had taken charge of socializing with everyone, including Randy, their father’s boring friend from work.

“Daddy, what’s n
ew in the banking business?” Layla asked as she arranged a relish tray.

“Not much, but I like it that way,” he said, smiling. Em
ma felt a catch in her throat when Layla launched herself into their father suddenly.

“I love you, Daddy,” she said.

“I love you, too,” he said, raising his brows in surprise.

When her eyes met Cole’s across the room, Emma had to look away quickly. The warmth she saw made her want to burst into tears. It wasn’t long until her phone vibrated on the kitchen counter with a new message. She grabbed it quickly when she saw it was from Cole.

What’s wrong?

She took a deep breath as she typed out a response.

I’m okay. It’s good to see you.

She was melting butter for a casserole when her phone buzzed again.

What’s wrong, Em? You’re upset. I don’t like it.

It was weird having a secret conversation with someone who was on the other side of the room. She moved the butter aside to cool and walked into the living room to write back.

Meet me in the garage in five minutes.

Emma shivered as she waited in the garage, eyeing her Dad’s organized pegboard of tools. She hoped that of all days, she and Cole wouldn’t get busted together today, but the chance was worth taking because she needed him.

He slipped into the side door quietly, not even making it all the way to Emma before she started sobbing uncontrollably.

“Em, what is it, baby?” he asked, pulling her close. She pressed her face into his solid chest, not wanting to
find any words yet. The rhythmic motion of Cole’s hand stroking her hair was soothing, and she sank against him gratefully.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she finally said.

“What’s wrong?”

“My Mom,” she said, her voice strained with emotion. “She had to get a biopsy on a lump in her breast and she gets the results tomorrow. I just found out. She was upset when we got here – crying – and I’ve never seen her like that.”

“I’m sorry, Em. What can I do?”

“Just … this. This is good,” she said, still leaning into him.  “I wish I could be strong right now, but I just froze when she told us.”

“It’s okay to be upset,” Cole said, rubbing circles on her back. “That doesn’t mean you aren’t strong.”

Emma squared her shoulders and wiped her cheeks.

“We have to get back inside,” she said. “Mom doesn’t want anyone to know, so don’t say anything, okay?”

“Sure.”

They left the garage, and Emma’s heart pounded when she saw her father and Layla talking on the deck. When they turned toward her and Cole, she stared, not moving.

“What are you two up to?” her father asked curio
usly.

Oh, shit. This is it.

“I came out to take a call and Emma said she was looking for a tool to fix something in her apartment,” Cole said. “I was trying to help her find it.”

“What ne
eds fixing, Em? I can come over,” her father said.

“Sounds like she just needs a handle tightened. I’ve got tools in my car and I told her I’ll drive her home later and fix it,” Cole said.

“That’s nice of you, thanks.” Emma could see the strain on her father’s face as he spoke.

The tension felt thick
all day, but Emma tried to do her part to keep things light. Layla was a pro, steering the conversation in a positive direction, assisting their mother with the cooking and even volunteering to wash the dishes.

Emma retreated inside herself, thinking about what would happen if her mother got bad news tomorrow. She closed her eyes and consid
ered how grateful she was she’d made the decision to return home from Paris.

Cole kept his attention
on her all afternoon, offering quick, reassuring smiles that made her wish she could crawl into his lap for the rest of the day.

When evening set in
, Layla pulled Emma upstairs to her former bedroom, and Emma sank against her sister with a fierce hug.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Layla said. “I’m staying here tonight so I can go with them to the doctor in the morning.”

“I should stay, too,” Emma said.

“No, Cole’s expecting to fix something for you, it would look weird if you told him you want to spend the night here. Just go home, let him fix whatever’s broken, take a hot bath and call me later. We’ll pick you up in the morning on the way to the doctor.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. Em, if we don’t get good news tomorrow, we’ll both need to step up and help a lot. Dad will need our support, too.”

“I know.”

Emma hugged her mother extra close as she left, wondering if Cole’s parents could tell how anxious they all
were. When she got in Cole’s car, he rubbed her leg reassuringly, and she gave him a grateful smile.

The ride home was mostly silent, and as soon as they got to her
apartment, Cole grabbed a duffel bag and his laptop case from his backseat and followed her inside. He seemed to sense her need for space, and he settled into a side chair with his computer to read.

Emma poured herself some wine and brought him a glass, too.

“Can I stay tonight?” he asked as she handed it to him.

“You don’t have to, Cole. I’m okay.”

“I want to. Is it okay?”

“Of course it’s okay,” she said,
smiling. “But I don’t think I’ll be very good company.”

“Just do your thing. I’ve got briefs to catch up on.”

“I think I’ll take a bath.”

Emma
sank into the tub of hot bubbles, letting her hair flow under the water, submerging everything but her face. The water cleansed away her stress, and she felt more like herself when she emerged in a bathrobe to fill her wine glass.

“There’s a good winery about an hour out of the city we should go to,” Cole said. “I think we need to stock up. You’re making me start to like this stuff.”

“That sounds like fun.”

It felt like they were an ordinary couple, spending an evening at home.
Emma had to remind herself they weren’t. Not like this, anyway. Cole was sitting up in her bed in his jeans and a white t-shirt, still working, when she stretched out there to call Layla.

“
How are you?” Emma asked.

“Okay. It’s a little better now that everyone’s gone and we can just talk freely about it. Mom’s okay.”

“Good. I took that bath you recommended. You should take one, too.”

“Did Cole get your thing fixed?”
Layla asked.

“He did. It was just a doo
r handle,” Emma said, smiling when Cole’s bare foot brushed against hers.

“I’m breaking something in my apartment so I can get him over there to fix it,” Layla said. “Maybe my bed.”

“Very subtle,” Emma quipped, pushing aside the image of Cole in Layla’s bedroom.

“It’s times like this I wish I had someone,” Layla said quietly. “You know, something real. Not just sex.”

“I know. And you will.” A wave of guilt shot through Emma as she looked over at Cole.

“Don’t you wish you had someone, too? Someone other than a married guy?”

“I do wish that, Layla. But remember, we’ve got each other.”

“
I know. We’ll pick you up at nine, okay?”

“See you then,” Emma said.
“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Though it was early, sleep started to overtake Emma, and as worries about her Mom floated through her mind, she was reassured by the warmth of Cole next to her.

Chapter 11

The enticing scent of brewing coffee pulled Emma away from her dream, and she
sat up abruptly. How could she be smelling coffee when she hadn’t gotten up to make it? The sound of her shower running reminded her that Cole was there, and she groaned.

I missed waking up with him. That would have been nice.

She poured herself a mug of coffee, combing through the wild waves of her hair that had been wet when she’d fallen asleep. Still in her bathrobe, she glanced at her watch to see how much time she had to get ready.

“I can’t believe it’s 8:30,” she said as Cole made his way to the coffeepot.
He wore dark shorts and a gray t-shirt, and a puzzled expression crossed her face when she smelled his familiar woodsy cologne and spicy aftershave.

“How did you manage to smell like a man after showering in there?” she asked. “All my stuff smells like fruit or coconuts.”

“I had stuff in my gym bag,” he said. “I’m going to the gym to work off all the pie I ate yesterday. I’ll head out in case Layla comes to the door, but let me know when you get the news, okay?” He kissed the top of her head and Emma reached around his waist, squeezing him tightly.

“Thanks for staying,” she said.

“I wanted to. Good thoughts, okay?”

She nodded as he left, hoping Layla wasn’t running early.

*****

Cole
smiled politely at the brunette who was eyeing him as he passed mile three on the treadmill. He was pushing himself with a hard pace, his mind elsewhere.

Emma’s
fragile expression when they parted reminded him how vulnerable she’d always seemed when she was younger. He liked that she needed comfort and reassurance, and that she let him provide it.

He’
d never spent a night with a woman and not slept with her. Emma’s sweet, clean smell had drifted toward him as he’d worked late the night before while she slept next to him. Her bathrobe hung slightly open in front, giving him a view of the curves of her breasts. Though his body had been aware of the sexy woman at his side, he’d found himself stroking a curl at the end of her long, damp hair rather than thinking of all the things he fantasized about doing with her.

When he’
d powered down the computer and settled in next to her, Cole was surprised by the warm, serene feeling he had. Her scent and heat and even the light sound of her breathing made him realize what he’d been missing every night he’d fallen asleep anywhere other than next to her. 

Waking up next to her was
just as good. The bright morning sunlight that streamed in from the apartment’s long, high windows had illuminated the painting in the nook next to Emma’s bed, and even better, lit up her face in a way that made him want to wake her up with a kiss.

But knowing what was on her mind, he’d brewed coffee and hit the shower instead, thinking while he lathered his body about how
well they would both fit in her shower.

The brunette
moved to the treadmill next to him, and Cole pushed his ear buds into his ears to prevent a conversation. She was the sort of woman he normally would have enjoyed picking up, but instead he kept checking the time on his phone as he ran. It was 10:20, and Emma’s Mom’s appointment was at 9:50.

He thought of his own mother, and how strained their relationship had gotten. Should he have cut her more slack over all these years, told himself she was doing her best? He’d wanted to at times, but the resentment just wound its way through him like an invasive vine.

The ring of his phone cut into the music, and he jumped to the sides of the treadmill as he answered, panting.

“Em?”

“Cole.” Her voice was thick with emotion, and his chest seized with worry. “It’s okay. She’s okay. It was good news.”

He could hear her smiling through the tears, and he exhaled loudly with relief.

“That’s great, baby. I’m so glad to hear it. Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m
good. I’m drained, but I feel so much better now. I want to cook you dinner tonight to thank you, are you free?”

“Of course I am. That sounds great.”

“Okay. I’ll see you at 6?”

“I’ll see you then. Spend the day relaxing, Em.”

“I will. See you tonight.”

Cole smiled as he hung up, reaching for the water bottle he’d left on the ground. His smile widened when he saw he was alone on the row of treadmills. Apparently the brunette had left.

*****

Emma went
through the steps of the familiar recipe in her head as the almonds crunched beneath her rolling pin. She swiped a sip of the white wine she’d be using and wrapped an apron around her waist.

“You need me t
o do anything?” Cole asked, walking into the kitchen.

“You can make the
beurre blanc
,” she said as she dipped salmon filets into the chopped almonds.

“I love it when you talk French, baby. I’m assuming you said something dirty.”

“I said ‘butter sauce’.” Emma laughed. “But I can say something else if you’d like.”

“Oh, I’d like.”

“
Je veux que vous après le diner
,” she said. “But for now, make me some butter sauce, sous chef.”

“I can barely cook a hot dog, Em.”

“There are only three ingredients. You’ll be fine.”

As she heated oil to pan-sear the fish, Emma considered how much she liked having Cole in her kitchen. Actually, anywhere in her apartment was good. She’d always figured having a man around constantly would make her feel cramped, but he didn’t.

“My parents want me to come with them to cut down a Christmas tree tomorrow,” he said as he worked on the sauce. “I wish you could come, too.”

“So do I.”

“My Mom would be happy to know we’re seeing each other. She’s always liked you.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. She admired you for going to Paris for school. She was accepted at a school in England but she didn’t go because she didn’t want to leave my Dad even though they weren’t married yet. I think she regrets it. She calls you the dark horse.”

“Me?” Emma raised her brows in surprise.

“She actually said last night that she thinks you’re prettier than Layla. I think the idea of you and me has hatched in her head. Probably because I talk about you so much.”

“That’s … unexpected, and really nice,” Emma said. “I may have to make her some almond encrusted salmon. Or some
coq au vin
! I make amazing
coq au vin
.”

“Did you just say you want my
coq
?” Cole asked with a grin.

“I didn’t, but I do.”

“Whoa. This bear sauce is gonna have a little something extra if you’re not careful, Em.”

“It’s
beurre
, Cole.” She laughed as he adjusted himself in his jeans, surprised she could have such an effect on him.

She focused on the meal, making sure everything came together at the same time. When she sat down across from Cole, Emma felt a catch in her chest at the domestic feeling of sitting down to a dinner they had cooked together. He looked
really good
sitting at her flea-market farmhouse table.

“I’m not just saying this, Em, I think this may be the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” Cole said as he sampled the salmon. “It’s great. And the asparagus … I love the way you cooked it.”

“Thank you.”

Cole poured wine into their glasses, holding his up.

“A toast to your Mom,” he said, his blue eyes radiating warmth.

“To Mom,” Emma echoed, raising her own glass. “Thanks for being here last night.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d want to be.”

Her inner cynic was searching for something to be critical of, some reason this was going to fail, but it was coming up empty.

As they washed the dishes after dinner, Emma’s body drew unconsciously closer to Cole’s. She liked being close enough to pick up his cedar scent and feel the heat of his body.

“I have a request,”
he said as they stacked the last of the dishes in the cabinet. “Do you have any blank canvases?”

“Always.”

“Will you make me a painting?”

“Of course. What would you like?” Emma asked, touched by his request.

“Whatever moves you.”

“I’ll start something tomorrow.”

“No, tonight. Right now.” His voice was warm and firm, and Emma’s libido protested loudly. She had other plans for the night.

“But … it takes a long time to do a painting,” she said. “And I thought…”

“Get your stuff ready.”

His smooth, commanding
tone made Emma eager to comply, and she went to her closet to retrieve a large, blank canvas.

“
What colors?” she called as she searched, grabbing some paints when she saw them.

“You decide.”

When Emma turned back to the large, open room of her apartment, the lights had been dimmed and soft, sensual music played. She wondered if Cole was going to watch her paint, forcing her to work with desire burning between her legs.

The thought aroused her, and she made quick work of mixing her paints. With Cole, everything felt sweetly sensual, with a hint of something more than she’d ever experienced. She’d never been turned on by painting.

He waited next to her easel, wearing only his jeans, and Emma couldn’t look away, even as she sat her paints on a nearby table. She wanted to reach out and trace her fingers along his lines, beneath the waistband of the jeans that hung casually low.

“Take your shirt off
,” he said softly. His gaze was hot with desire, and Emma couldn’t pull her t-shirt over her head fast enough. Cole’s eyes moved over her lacy black bra, and she clung to her paintbrush, trembling with anticipation. He approached and reached for the button of her jeans, and a jolt of longing shot straight between her thighs when his fingers grazed her stomach as he unfastened them and slid them down.

As he sat down on the metal vintage bench
that Emma painted from, she felt her eyes widen. He reached an arm out and lowered her in front of him, so she was seated between his legs, her back against his powerful chest. She felt his hardness behind her, making her gasp as she wondered if she would be able to think about anything else.

“Paint for me, baby,” he said in a low, sexy to
ne, and Emma responded immediately. She dipped her brush in the paint, dotting the canvas with a bright spring green shade. Cole’s hands grazed her shoulders and neck, the sensation touching every nerve in her body.

She lowered the brush, reveling in the feel of his fingers piling her long hair over one of her shoulders so he could brush his lips over the bare skin of her neck. He nipped at her earlobe and spread his hands across her thighs, moving them slowly down to her knees.

“Cole,” she murmured, her body unconsciously pressing back against his.

“You’re so beautiful, Em. I want to know what every last inch of you feels like.”

One of his hands slid down past her knee, skimming along her calf before he grasped her ankle. She tipped her head back, trying to regain herself and paint like he wanted her to.

She grabbed a new brush, making dark, bold strokes across the canvas that mirrored the intensity of her emotions. As Cole unfastene
d her bra and slid it off slowly, she pressed her lips together to withhold the expletives that threatened to spill out. Her senses were overloaded by the smell and feel of him.

When he pressed a hand to her cheek and turned her mouth to his, Emma moaned in anticipation of his kiss. His tongue entered her mouth just as his other hand cupped her exposed breast, and she kissed him back hungrily. It didn’t last as long as she wanted before Cole
turned her back to the canvas, and she panted with desire as she painted.

The combination of her deepest joy, painting, with the erotic sensations of Cole teasing her body, made Emma sure she would come without him even getting close to the wetness between her thighs.

His hands slid across her stomach, up to her breasts, where he traced his fingers in circles around her nipples. Emma’s body was on fire as she painted, and she felt the groan that rose in Cole’s chest as she pushed her body back into his forcefully.

His fingers twined into the ends of her hair, pulling it back to allow him easy access to her neck, which he kissed with a hunger that made Emma ache for him to toss her onto the bed and finish this sweet, slow torture.

She realized it wouldn’t last much longer as his fingers slid past the seam of her panties. He would be shocked when he discovered how wet she was, but this had been a long time coming.

“Oh, fuck …” he said softly as his fingers slid into her. Emma had no idea what she was painting as she circled her hips against the pressure of his fingers.