Читать книгу The Seduction Request - Michelle Celmer, Michelle Celmer - Страница 10

The air drifting in the front window, thick and sticky and tinged with the scent of summer rain, zapped the last of Emily’s energy. She stretched out on her love seat, waiting for the pizza guy, relieved the day was almost over. As badly as it had begun, when she was convinced things couldn’t get much worse, they had.

Alex, it would seem, was having so much fun he’d decided to extend his vacation another few days. She’d tried to explain how difficult it had been holding it together at work lately and he came back with his typical, “Don’t worry about it, Em. It’ll all work itself out.”

He didn’t have to face twenty-five employees, not to mention the fifteen or so college kids they hired every spring and summer, knowing it might only be a matter of weeks before they were out of a job. Though he was her good friend and she loved him to death, acting as a human shield between him and his mother was getting old.

The doorbell rang and she rose from her seat, grabbing the ten-dollar bill for the pizza from the coffee table on her way to the door. Money in hand, she pulled the door open, but it wasn’t the pizza guy standing outside her apartment. It was Matt.

And she’d be damned if her traitorous heart didn’t lift a little at the sight of him. That cocky grin he always wore told her he was up to no good.

She leaned on the doorjamb, trying her best to look annoyed while her lips itched to return the smile. His hair was damp, his chin freshly shaved, and the clean scent of soap and shampoo begged “notice me!” Drops of rain spotted his muscle shirt, drawing her attention to the impressive width of his shoulders and the definition in his biceps and arms.

Something hot and feminine stirred deep inside her.

She conjured up her best annoyed voice. “Are you stalking me?”

From behind his back he produced a large pizza. “If you won’t come to dinner with me, I bring dinner to you.”

“I’m not hungry,” she lied, and as if on cue, her stomach gave a hollow moan.

“Your stomach disagrees.” Matt lifted the lid and peeked inside. “Pepperoni, sausage, bacon—you sure you don’t want a slice?”

“How did you know…wait a minute, that’s my pizza! You rat! You stole my dinner.”

The grin widened, his dimple winking adorably. “I paid for it, so it is technically mine now. But I’d be willing to share it with you.”

“Is there anything you won’t do to get what you want?”

“That depends on what I want.” The simmering look in his eyes, his smoldering tone, warmed her all the way through to her bones. He didn’t even seem to be doing it on purpose. It was as if oozing sex appeal came naturally. Effortlessly.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “How did you even know where I live?”

“CIA.”

“That’s very funny.”

“It’s classified. If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you.”

She glared at him, tapping her foot.

“All right, I asked your brother.” He lifted the box lid. “Hmm, smells delicious.”

Her mouth watered as the scent wafted her way. She’d skipped lunch so she was beyond starving and there was next to nothing edible in the refrigerator.

“Another minute and you’re going to be drooling, Em.”

This was so unfair. He knew how much she loved pizza.

“Fine, you can stay.” She stepped back and held the door open. Only then did she realize she was wearing her baggy pajama bottoms and the University of Michigan T-shirt with the paint splatters on the front. Like he would even notice.

Or care.

Matt stepped inside, gazing around her one-room flat.

“It’s small, but I like it that way,” she automatically explained. She had no idea why she felt the need to justify her living conditions to him. Although it might have had something to do with her mother’s constant, “Why don’t you get a real apartment, Emily,” or “If you can’t afford a decent place to live, why don’t you move back home with us?” As if that would ever happen. Emily would be hauled away in a straitjacket inside of a week.

“I have closets bigger than this,” Matt said, then cringed and added, “I didn’t mean that like it sounded. I’m just thinking how ridiculous it is that I have so much stuff I need closets the size of an apartment.”

He looked so disturbed by the idea, she had to wonder if maybe he wasn’t quite as egotistical as she’d thought. Or maybe he was only pretending to be like the old Matt. The question was, why? What could he possibly want from her? Was it possible that he really did want to be her friend?

“When I signed my first pro deal, I had money for the first time in my life,” Matt said. “I swear all I did that first year was buy stuff. I guess I just never throw anything away.”

“I feel your pain. It must have been real rough having all that money to spend.”

“You’d be surprised.” His eyes darkened with some emotion she couldn’t identify, and she had the sudden impression she’d dredged up something he didn’t want to confront. She couldn’t decide if that was a good or a bad thing.

Probably bad.

She grabbed paper plates and napkins from the kitchenette and opened the fridge. “I suppose you’ll want something to drink.”

“Whatever you’ve got,” he said, looking around as if he wasn’t sure where to put the food.

“I usually eat at the coffee table, so I can see the game.” And because it happened to be the only table she owned.

“Still a sports fan, huh?” He set the pizza down and sat on the love seat.

She grabbed two beers. “To my parents’ dismay. My mother is always trying to drag me to Junior League meetings and Tupperware parties, when I’d rather stay home and watch the game with Ty and my dad.”

She set the beers, napkins and plates on the table and sat next to him. Matt served them each a slice of pizza. Somehow the love seat felt a lot smaller with him sitting on it. They were so close, she could feel the heat of his thigh where it almost touched her own.

Though it was eons ago, she still remembered what it felt like to be close to him. To feel those hard planes of muscle in his chest and stomach, his weight pressing her into the cool sand. Being with Matt had been everything she’d ever imagined—more than she’d ever hoped for. It had scared her as much as it thrilled her. And the tenderness he’d shown her had been completely unexpected. Foolishly she’d thought that meant he loved her.

After all they’d been through together, when all was said and done, she’d been nothing but a conquest to him. All those years of friendship had meant nothing. And now, with all that money he couldn’t spend fast enough, she was sure he’d also raised his standards. She was the same unfeminine, in-your-face-girl she’d been back in high school. She hadn’t been good enough for him before, and she certainly wouldn’t be now, even if she wanted to be. Which she absolutely did not.

“Ty mentioned that you have a boyfriend. My being here won’t bother him?” Matt asked.

Boyfriend. Now there’s a term she used rather loosely. It wasn’t as if she’d actually told her parents she and Alex were anything but good friends. They’d assumed, and she’d never set them straight.

“No, he wouldn’t mind. He’s not the jealous type.” Not when it came to women, anyway. Not only was Alex not her significant other, he was very gay. Flaming at times.

Matt looked down, suddenly enthralled by his pizza. “I’d like to meet him. You should bring him around the restaurant some time.”

Emily almost laughed. “You still can’t lie worth a damn, Conway.”

His head shot up, a combination of guilt and surprise on his face.

“My brother can’t stand Alex. And he probably told you that. So I seriously doubt you’re all that jazzed about meeting him.”

“You work with him?”

“His mother owns the nursery.”

Matt gazed around the apartment. Considering her living conditions, this guy obviously wasn’t paying her enough. What furniture she did have looked hand-me-down, and with the exception of the twenty or so plants hanging throughout the apartment, it was sparsely decorated. No art hanging on the walls. No photos.

Ty hadn’t been exaggerating. This boyfriend of Emily’s did sound like a jerk. Abandoning Emily and leaving her to run his mother’s company while he was out partying was pretty low. And with a girlfriend as attractive as Emily, how could the guy not be jealous when she invited other men into her apartment? If Emily were Matt’s girlfriend, she wouldn’t be hanging out with other men. And she wouldn’t be living in a matchbox. She would have the best of everything—anything her heart desired.

If she were his girlfriend?

Where the hell had that come from? As unfit as this Alex guy was for Emily, Matt was no more properly suited. God only knows where he’d squeeze her into his schedule.

His cell phone rang and Matt checked the display, cursing under his breath. His lawyer. He was awaiting information on the code-violation issue. This could be either really good or really bad news.

“I have to take this.”

He answered the phone, and, as he’d expected, it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. The violation was legitimate, and their only recourse at this time would be to meet the inspector’s demands, or file a lawsuit against the city. Suing Chapel would guaranty the restaurant’s failure.

Emily made an impatient noise beside him and Matt had the feeling she wasn’t thrilled with the interruption. Now was not the time to be getting on her bad side. Though it was against every principle of business he’d learned, he told his lawyer he’d call him back later, shut the phone off and hooked it back on his belt.

“Sorry about that,” he said.

“So, Conway.” Emily twisted the top off her beer. “You’ve got me here. What do you want?”

“What do you mean?”

She took a bite of her pizza and washed it down with a swallow of beer. “After eleven years and no word from you, there has to a reason why you’ve suddenly popped back into my life.”

He’d thought he’d be able to flub his way through this and skirt around the truth. She never had been one to sit back and let life happen around her. He should have known she would come right out and bluntly ask him what he was up to. He should have expected it.

“I’m reconnecting,” he said, which wasn’t completely untrue. “The relationships I’ve been finding myself in lately have been…unsatisfying.”

“What’s wrong, the California girls aren’t putting out? Or have you slept with them all already?”

“No, there are a few I’ve yet to violate.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the edge of her mouth lift. “By unsatisfying, I mean shallow.”

“So what, you expected to come back and just pick up where you left off?”

“That was sort of the plan. I’d like us to be friends, Emily.”

She made a huffing sound. “I’m not crazy about your definition of friendship, Conway.”

“Look, I know I should have kept in touch. You probably won’t believe this, but I never wanted to hurt you.”

“But you did.”

The accusation felt like a knife in his gut. He pushed his plate away, his appetite a memory. “People make mistakes. You could cut me a little slack.” The second the words were out, when her eyes turned stone-cold, he knew it was a mistake.

She got up and walked to the door, pulled it open and motioned outside. “Goodbye.”

“You’re kicking me out?”

“I said you could stay for dinner. And I don’t know about you, but I’ve lost my appetite.”

He rose from the love seat, balling his napkin and tossing it onto the table. “You were never one to play games, Emily.”

“I’m not the one playing games, Conway.”

He had a lot of nerve, coming here, manipulating her, then accusing her of playing games. He wanted her to cut him some slack. She wasn’t the one who’d stopped writing, stopped calling. She wasn’t the one who’d stayed away for eleven years.

She opened the door wider.

“Is this your way of saying you don’t want to be friends?”

“I was your friend. That’s one mistake I won’t be making again.”

This time her heart might not survive.

Emily rested her head against the lush ivy twining the cedar arbor, inhaling the sweet scents of her mother’s flower garden. Amber clouds streaked the sky as the sun dipped below the horizon and a warm breeze caressed her face. Ordinarily, surrounding herself with nature worked like a salve on her frayed nerves, but it was family dinner night at her parents’ house.

Her least favorite, and most nerve-racking Friday of the month.

Nothing short of hospitalization or death held up as a legitimate excuse to miss it. Her parents liked to stay actively involved in her life, which equated to two hours of them telling her exactly what she was doing wrong and how to fix it, while Emily smiled, nodded and tried not to scream. Not that she didn’t love her family dearly, but she’d given up trying to please them a long time ago.

And, as if spending the evening with her parents wasn’t bad enough, they’d excitedly informed her that Matt was joining them tonight. Given their level of enthusiasm and the extravagant meal her mother was preparing, one might have thought the President was coming to dinner.

She hadn’t talked to Matt since he’d left her apartment last night. And while she would never admit it aloud—she didn’t even like admitting it to herself—she had hoped he would come back.

Shortly after he’d left she’d gone to bed, listening to the rain tap against the front windows and feeling inexplicably lonely. Every time she heard a vehicle approaching, or the slam of a car door, she’d held her breath, waiting to hear footsteps up her walk. But he hadn’t come. And though she hated herself for it, she still missed him somewhere deep down.

Back when they were kids, during summer vacations when Matt was practically living at their house, he and Emily would sometimes stay up all night talking. After everyone had gone to bed, they would go out on the back patio, curl up in chaise lounges and talk until the sky turned pink with the first hint of dawn. There wasn’t a thing about each other they hadn’t known.

She’d never blamed him for what had happened between them that night on the beach. She’d let it happen, with no second thoughts and no regrets. She only regretted that it had ended their friendship. It was too late to get that back. They had both changed too much.

Sure, he looked the same, and sounded the same and sometimes he even acted like the old Matt. On the inside, where it counted, he was a different person.

When she’d gotten over the initial shock of his leaving, her heart had begun to heal. And after a while she’d even stopped missing him. Now that he was back, that old longing had returned with him. But she was longing for the friendship of a man who no longer existed.

Behind her on the brick path she heard approaching footsteps. Heavy steps that would indicate the person in question was probably male, and most likely large. Six foot three, two hundred and twenty pounds—most of it muscle—if memory served. She closed her eyes and prayed silently, please let it be someone else.

“Dinner is almost ready.” Matt’s deep voice wrapped around her, raising the hair on her arms and sending a shiver down her spine despite the heat. “Your mom sent me out to get you.”

Thanks, Mom. Without even trying she somehow always managed to make Emily’s life a little bit more miserable. “Tell her I’ll be right there.”

There was a brief silence then, “Emily, come on. You could at least look at me.”

Apprehension surging up her throat, she slowly turned. Matt stood, hands tucked casually into the pockets of his pants. At the sight of him, her body sighed with satisfaction. Talk about eye candy. The man was far too attractive for his own good. His hair was damp again and the same near-black shade as his eyes. A hint of his aftershave drifted in her direction, drawing her attention to his chiseled jaw and mouth. And oh, the things that mouth had done to her. Intimate things that still made her blush.

All his features combined, Matt looked rugged and dangerous—which was at complete odds with the conservative polo shirt and chinos he wore. Was it possible for a man to look reckless and sexy wearing Ralph Lauren?

His eyes soft and apologetic, he said, “I screwed up last night.”

It was the last thing she expected to hear, and it sounded far too much like something the old Matt would say. Don’t, she wanted to plead. Don’t you dare be nice to me. She wanted to hate him for leaving her, for not loving her.

But how could she hate him for being honest?

She hugged herself, feeling naked and vulnerable in a simple tank top and shorts. Which was beyond ridiculous, because she wore similar clothes all the time and she’d never felt underdressed before. Maybe it was the way Matt looked at her, as if he were studying every inch, memorizing her.

His cell phone rang and he reached down—she thought to answer it. Instead he turned it off.

“Emily,” he said, taking another step toward her. She wanted to turn and run to the house, but she couldn’t make her legs move. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I’d do anything to take it back if I could.”

She looked for a trace of deceit in his eyes, a sign that he was only manipulating her. All she saw was sincerity, and it put the tiniest crack in the ice covering her heart.

“Can you give me another chance? Can we be friends?”

“For how long, Conway? How do I know you’re not going to go back to California and never call me again? What reason do I have to trust you?”

“None,” he admitted. “You have no reason to trust me. I’ll have to earn it.”

She knew she was losing it when the idea of Matt working to gain her trust gave her a giddy, adolescent thrill. The thrill she used to get every time he smiled at her, or bent his head close to help her bait her fishing line. How many times had she intentionally popped her bike chain off the track for the sheer pleasure of watching him fix it, knowing he was doing something nice for her. And he would do it without question every time. What would he have said had he known she could bait a line with more skill than he could, or tear apart a bike and rebuild it blindfolded.

At times her adoration had been so intense she’d ached with it. But Matt had always been, and always would be completely unattainable. Even now, after everything that had happened, the thought made her inexplicably sad.

“So, what do you say? Tentative friends?” He reached for her, and though she opened her mouth to object, the words died on her lips the second he took her hand. He cradled it gently in his enormous palm. She watched, mesmerized as his thumb brushed across her knuckles. Heat pooled deep in her stomach and her eyelids felt weighted down.

She risked a glance up to his face and found herself instantly locked into his dark gaze. Something sparked deep inside his eyes—a flame she thought had died a long time ago. How could she deny him anything when he looked at her that way?

“Emily! Matt!” Her mother’s voice cut through the silence like a guillotine, obliterating the moment.

Emily yanked her hand free, and when he reached for her again, she backed away. “Don’t. I need some time to think about this.”

“Emily—”

“Just give me a little time.”