The Plus-One Agreement (9 page)

SEVEN

When had
he last shared a bedroom with someone for a reason that had nothing to do with sex? Dan couldn’t actually remember. It must have been Maggie. Way back when he was still at college and anything had seemed possible.

Had he now become so accustomed to room-sharing being about sex that his body simply expected it as part of the deal? Was that why he felt so damned on edge as he waited for Emma to change in the bathroom? Every nerve in his body was wound into a tense knot.

The air of awkwardness from earlier was back. But now there seemed a new, deeper edge to it. It was more than just the logistics of sharing a small space with someone you only knew on a work basis. His growing attraction to her was heightened by his new understanding of her. A few feet away from him in the velvet-soft darkness she would be there, lying in that bed, with her long, slender limbs and her silky dark hair.

His body matched his racing mind with a rigid, hot tension the like of which was going to make sleep an impossibility.

His pulse jolted as the bathroom door clattered open and she crossed the room to the bed, not looking at him. Her dress was now lying over one arm, her hair loose and gleaming in the soft glow of the table lamp next to the bed. She was wearing a sleep vest and shorts which showed off the most impossibly perfect pair of long, slender legs.

He made an enormous effort not to stare at them as his mind insisted on wondering what other glorious secrets she might be hiding under her sensible work dresses and wide-leg trousers. He stared hard out of the window. His preoccupation became slightly less fake as he noticed movement in the grounds.

‘Is that your brother down there?’

He immediately regretted mentioning it because she tossed the dress over the back of a chair and crossed the room to join him at the window, padding across the deep carpet in bare feet. What he
really
needed right now, with his entire body wound up like a coiled spring, was her standing next to him in her flimsy shorts and vest combo. Without her heels she just about reached his shoulder...

‘Where?’

He pointed and she craned closer to him to see the lily pond bench. A figure was sitting and staring at the ground contemplatively, a bottle of champagne in one hand and a glass in the other. Her sudden nearness let Dan pick up the faint trace of vanilla perfume still clinging to her hair and his stomach gave a slow and delicious flip in response.

‘It’s Adam, all right,’ she said. ‘Even in silhouette that quiff is unmistakable. He’s probably taking a break from negotiating family. Can’t say I blame him.’

The soft breeze drifting in through the open window ruffled her hair lightly. She turned away from the view and smiled up at Dan.

‘Don’t snore,’ she said, her eyes teasing.

‘I
don’t
snore.’

She was close enough that in one swift tug she could be in his arms. He swallowed hard, his throat paper-dry.

Oblivious, she narrowed her eyes at him, considering.

‘How do you know?’

‘I’ve never had any complaints,’ he said. Her lips, scrubbed of lip gloss, were a soft pale pink in the muted light. His eyes were drawn to them.

‘That doesn’t mean you don’t snore,’ she said. ‘It just means no one’s wanted to put you off them by telling you.’

‘Whereas you...?’

‘Will have no compunction whatsoever about lobbing a pillow at you.’ She pressed an emphatic finger against his chest that made a wave of heat pulse through his veins. ‘I’m not afraid to tell you what I think.’

‘I know.’

For some reason the novelty of that was alluring. It occurred to him that the willingness to please of his usual girlfriends was something else besides easy and no-fuss. It was also very bland. When had he last felt on his toes with a woman?

He’d become slowly more aware of her looks this evening: the fragility of her skinny frame, her dark-hair-pale-skin combo—such a contrast to his usual choice—and now there was her liveliness, her cheek, sucking him in all the more.

For the first time he picked up on her physical similarities to Maggie. She was taller and slimmer, but the smooth dark hair was the same. Was that what this was about? Was that why she seemed to have slipped through his careful filter? Was that why it had been so easy to keep her at a distance and categorise her as a work colleague? Because his knee-jerk avoidance of any thought of attraction to a girl who might remind him of Maggie had gone on so long it had become automatic?

But he hadn’t had the complication of being at such close quarters with her back then. Nuances and habits were laid bare now. The fun-loving, cheeky side of her was so much more obvious outside the work environment, where everything needed to be serious and professional. This weekend he’d begun to see what lay beneath. And it drew him in as no woman had. Not since Maggie had walked away.

She was smiling cheekily up at him, her brown eyes wide, and he marvelled again at how softly pretty she was when you took the time to look past her stiff outer layer. Her face was tilted up to his, at the perfect angle for him to kiss her. The warm, sweet scent of her hair filled his senses, and without taking time to think he lifted a hand to touch her cheek—just to see if it felt as satiny as it looked.

That one tiny connection with her gave his pulse an immediate leap and hot desire rushed through him. And in that fleeting moment he knew he had no chance.

Knowing he was acting off-plan now—and not just off-plan for this weekend but for his whole damned philosophy on life—was suddenly not enough to stop him. His mental filters weren’t working. She’d already got past them. This was physical now, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Her eyes widened as he let his fingers trace further, around to the soft skin at the nape of her neck, beneath the fall of her hair. All thought of consequences gone, he lowered his mouth towards the silk of that tantalisingly full lower lip. He pulled her closer, melded her body hard against his, felt the contours of her long, slender limbs through the thin cotton of the shorts and vest she wore.

Sparks of hot longing fizzed in his abdomen as he let his hand slide lower, to find the soft cream of those long, slender thighs. Desire flooded through him, deeper than he was used to, steeped in the familiarity of her, the laughs they’d had together, their newfound closeness. This was not his usual throwaway date. He’d stepped outside the norm. The very novelty of that seemed to hike up his want for her to a new level.

A squeak of shock caught in Emma’s throat as his thumb stroked along her jawline, his fingers tangling in her hair.

She hadn’t imagined the shift in balance between them after all. She hadn’t been seeing things that weren’t there.

Despite all the flirting and the signs, the new feeling of intimacy as they started to get to know each other beyond the barriers of their previous life, she now realised that she’d never truly believed he could ever be interested in her. Not in
that
way. She’d quit any delusions about that months ago as she’d observed his repetitive dating habits, certain that unless she happened to morph overnight into a pouting curvy blonde, boring old plain Emma Burney simply wouldn’t do it for him.

Her pulse had upped its pace so acutely that she felt light-headed. As his lips met hers she could taste a faint twist of champagne on them, warming her mouth as his tongue slipped softly against hers. Hot sparks began to tingle their way through her limbs to simmer hotly between her legs.

How many times had she dreamed of this moment in the dim and distant past when they’d first met? Every nerve-ending was tinglingly aware of him. She was drowning, every sense in her body filled with him. The lingering spicy notes of his aftershave made her senses reel. She let her fingers sink into his hair, its thick, soft texture exactly as she’d imagined it so many times.

The desire that had bubbled beneath the surface of her consciousness until she had abandoned all hope of it ever being reciprocated made a heady comeback, and she grabbed at the last thread of sense before it slipped away.

It was utterly, sublimely delicious, but none of it really counted because he was ending their agreement.

She latched on to that thought. Was that what all this had been about? The warmth of his newfound support and interest in her had delighted her, but she’d assumed it was simply down to friendship. His kiss was something she’d dreamed of, but if he’d wanted to snog her because of
her
he’d had
months
to do it.

All those months waiting for him to notice her, taking extra care with her hair and make-up when she knew she was going to see him, dropping everything to fit in his last-minute work dates. Months when he’d barely noticed she was alive. Months of opportunity, time alone together, work dinners out. None of it had been enough because he’d needed her for work then.

It had taken
this
for him to make a move on her. The fact that he was ending their agreement and had no need for her any more. Dan only slept with dispensable women. And now she was dispensable.

None of this had anything to do with real feelings for her.

With a monumental effort she stopped her arms from entwining around his neck and groped for his hands, grabbing them at the wrists and disentangling herself from his embrace. The sensation of loss as she took a step back made her suck in a sharp breath and she steeled herself against it. She was
not
going to be sucked into another bad decision because of some stupid age-old crush. She was in full control here.

‘Why now?’ she panted at him.

His eyes seemed a darker blue than ever, a light frown of confusion touching his forehead. She could hear that his breath had deepened.

He reached for her.

‘What do you mean, why now?’

She took another step back, away from his hands, because if she found herself in those arms again she wasn’t sure her resolve would stand up.

‘We’ve known each other for months,’ she said. ‘And in all that time you’ve never looked twice my way. No matter what I did. No matter how many times I swung business deals for you or put myself out on your behalf. No matter how I tried. And then you decide we’re going to go our separate ways, and out of the blue suddenly I’m fair game? Well, I’m not interested.’

She took a slow step back, shaking her head, avoiding his eyes, looking everywhere except at his face. Everything about her told him a very different story. Her shortness of breath, the flushed cheeks, the hard points of her nipples beneath the thin fabric of her vest.

His mind zeroed in on her words.
‘No matter what I did.’
The meaning of that slammed into his brain and turned it to mush. Their agreement had always been about more than platonic convenience for her and he’d never even noticed. His stupid work tunnel vision had neglected to pick up on that point. The surge of excitement it now evoked shocked him to the core, telling him his belief that he was in control here was seriously misplaced.

‘I’m not going to be your alternative choice because there’s no handy blonde available and you’re stuck sharing a room with me,’ she said.

Clearly, to her, he was the same old work-obsessed confirmed bachelor.

‘This has nothing to do with that.’

She gazed up at him, wariness in her wide brown eyes, and then they both jumped at a sudden flurry of knocks on the bedroom door.

She took a couple of fast paces away from him, her fingers rubbing slowly over her lips as if echoing his kiss. Another surge of desire flooded through him at the sight. She cut her eyes away from his.

Another mad cacophony of knocks sliced through the tension.

She made an exasperated noise and turned away from him towards the door, one hand pushing her hair back from her face in a gesture of fluster.

‘Who the hell is that?’

‘Emma, ignore it,’ he said. ‘We need to sort this out. You’ve got it wrong.’

The knocking graduated to a muffled banging of the kind a fist might make, and she shook her head lightly at him and moved towards the door again.

He glanced down at himself. In a sudden flash of clarity it occurred to him that the visitor might feasibly be Emma’s mother, and his arousal would be obvious to her in the space of one look. He glanced at the door to the
en-suite
bathroom, thinking vaguely that he might take refuge in there for a couple of minutes while Emma got rid of whoever it was and then they could pick up where they’d left off.

He was on his way across the room when she opened the door and Adam, who had clearly been leaning on it, stumbled into the room, performed a twisty lurching pirouette and threw up into the nearest pot plant.

Oh, just bloody
perfect!

* * *

‘For Pete’s sake, help me get him to the bathroom!’

Emma had managed to pull Adam to his extremely unsteady feet and struggled to hold him upright as he lurched about. Dan rushed in and took over, throwing one of her brother’s arms around his neck and heaving him into the bathroom before he could collapse again. She followed them in.

‘The wedding’s off!’ Adam groaned, slumping over the sink. His always-perfect hair hung in a dishevelled mess and his face was a sickly shade of green.

‘What the hell’s happened?’ she said.

He lifted his head and pointed an emphatic jabbing finger at her as he swayed drunkenly.

‘I’m a has-been, darling,’ he drawled. ‘It’s all over. It’s all gone.’

His knees gave way unexpectedly and Dan made a lunge to catch him before he hit the white-tiled floor.

‘He’s absolutely wasted,’ Emma said, staring down at him. ‘What the hell do I do?’

‘Call down to Room Service,’ Dan said. ‘Black coffee. He needs to sober up.’

She left the pair of them in the bathroom and went to use the phone, her mind reeling. She’d never seen Adam lose his cool before. He had no worries that she knew of. His life was only ever full of things to celebrate. As she replaced the receiver there was the sound of gushing water from the bathroom and a piercing shriek of shock. Dan had obviously stuck him in the shower. She grinned in spite of her worry. Whatever she had to cope with now, at least Adam might be more lucid.