No Denying You(13)

Her bedroom had its own attached bath complete with double sinks. The thought of having to use the bathroom for anything other than showering with Brant so close was something that she preferred not to dwell on.

Her mother announced, “All right, I’m going to head back downstairs and get everything ready. I’ll see you both soon.”

As soon as her mother left the room, Emma collapsed on the bed behind her. Just picturing Brant sitting with the book club tonight sent her off into peals of uncontrollable giggles. The more he frowned at her, the harder she laughed. “For God’s sake,” he grumbled, “what is wrong with you?”

“Nothing . . .” she managed to gasp. He shook his head at her and walked over to look out the window. When she noticed the way the material of his pants stretched across his tight ass, her laughter dried up and her body started to hum. What is wrong with me? He couldn’t have made it any clearer that this morning meant nothing to him. Stop staring at the enemy’s ass!

She really tried to listen to her own pep talk, but he was so gorgeous. She’d always thought he was gorgeous, but now that she knew him intimately, it was proving hard to go back to snarky business as usual. She wanted nothing more than for him to lower his body on top of hers and pound her into next Sunday. Okay, maybe that was the wrong thing to wish for in her parents’ home, but still . . .

Brant settled back on the edge of the window seat, thankfully moving said nice ass from her view and asked, “So tell me about the rest of your family.”

She gave a grimace thinking of her siblings. Like most brothers and sisters, they spent their early years fighting over toys and most of their later ones ratting one another out to their parents. “Well, I’m the oldest.” She held her hand up when he opened his mouth. “Please reserve your comments on that. Anyway, Robyn is the middle child, and she is twenty-three years old and a hairstylist. Boston is the baby of the family and he’s twenty. He’s attending the University of Florida for a degree in botany. I secretly think it’s so he can learn to grow his own marijuana, but that’s a whole other story.”

Looking confused, Brant said, “Wait a minute. I thought Boston was the family dog or something. Who names their kid that?”

Emma shuddered. “Please, under no circumstances are you to ask my mother about it unless you want some really graphic details. I’ll just say that my mother swears he was conceived there after a particularly great weekend. She felt like she needed a permanent reminder so . . . Boston. Thank God he was the only one who inspired that; otherwise, I would probably be named Tampa or Daytona.”

Brant started chuckling. “Man, I thought my family was nuts; yours is really something else. When she’s not scaring the hell out of me, I kind of like your mother. She’s a horrible driver, though. I’m afraid the indentations from the safety handles in the front seat are permanently etched in my hands.”

Smiling, she nodded in agreement. The tension in her body had slowly drained away during their conversation, and she felt better able to control the feelings that he aroused in her. She didn’t, however, think she should test that theory by staying in the room with him for extended periods of time other than to sleep. She reluctantly pulled herself from the bed, saying, “I’m going to shower and change before dinner.” Looking at the suit he still wore, she added, “You might want to find something a bit more . . . casual as well.” Did the man even have any casual clothing? He just gave her a nod in response, and she pulled her suitcase behind her into the bathroom. She could do this, right? It was only a few days. Yeah, you slept with your boss on the very first day; what else could possibly happen?

Brant breathed a sigh of relief when the bathroom door closed behind Emma. Man, what a long day! He was about ready to climb a wall. Spending time like this with her after what had happened that morning had been hell. The ache in his crotch was approaching near epic levels. No matter how many times he tried to tell himself that it didn’t mean anything and couldn’t happen again, his body didn’t seem to agree. Instead, he had walked around sweating bullets with a near constant hard-on. His usual control had deserted him and he was now more like a damn dog in heat. Hell, he was afraid he would be humping her leg soon enough.

He had followed her cue and acted like nothing had happened, but it was killing him. The only thing that kept him from approaching the subject was the fear that she would cut him off at the knees. The whole masculine pride thing was no myth. No man wanted to be rejected or made to feel he didn’t matter, and that was the vibe that he was getting from Emma. It was damn humbling to have what he considered a knock-your-head-off sexual experience and then find out that the other person didn’t seem anywhere near as awed. He wasn’t vain, but he had never had any complaints in that department. Could he have missed something with her? He wasn’t an inexperienced schoolboy; he knew she had come. He still had the marks on his shoulders to prove it. So why the indifference?

Except shouldn’t he be happy that things hadn’t gotten complicated? Out of nowhere, he remembered the sensitive, supportive advice that he had given his brother when he had been tied up in knots over a woman at work who was now his wife: Never shit where you sleep or work; it always turns out badly. Well, apparently that applied only to him because things had turned out fine for Declan, Jason, Gray and Nick. Hell, he was the only one having a problem with it.

He decided to skip the cold shower that he so desperately needed since Emma had claimed the bathroom and settled instead for a change of clothes. Emma was right; he did look a little overdressed. Going downstairs and making a run for the beach was better than sitting in the room imagining Emma naked in the next room, water lapping over her firm, high breasts. Fuck. Pulling open his suitcase, he grabbed a pair of cargo shorts and a University of South Carolina T-shirt. They were both a little wrinkled but it couldn’t be helped. He refused to give Emma the pleasure of asking her to use an iron. Regardless of what she said, he could do casual. He quickly changed, pulling on a pair of Nike flip-flops that he usually threw on after a shower. He heard the water stop in the bathroom and took off at top speed. He couldn’t handle any more naked images in his head right now.

He made it down the stairs to the front door. Freedom was but a few steps away when the door handle beneath his hands started turning without his help. Uh-oh. He stepped back in surprise just as a group of women literally burst through the door.

The leader of the group stopped mere inches away from him. He tried not to stare at the tank top pulled tightly across her rather large chest that said SMUT-LOVING WENCHES DO IT ALL NIGHT, and then in smaller print, READ BETWEEN THE LINES. As he was trying to sort that out in his mind, the proud owner of the shirt gave something that sounded suspiciously like a wolf whistle and said, “Ladies, we have just hit pay dirt. Look at this yummy piece of man-candy.” Brant watched in frozen shock as the group of women spread out and looked him up and down.

His mouth felt like it was working, but nothing seemed to be coming out. This was his first real episode of being objectified, and he had to admit it didn’t feel that great. Instead, he wanted to run back upstairs and hide behind Emma. Surely, she had clothes on by now. “Er . . . hello,” he stuttered.

Just as he was trying to figure out an escape path, Emma’s mother walked in from the other room. He was damned glad to see her. Her enthusiasm and ability to jump from one subject to the next in the blink of an eye was a little scary, but he liked her. Emma’s father was a lucky man because Kat Davis was a knockout. She reminded him a lot of the actress Andie MacDowell. He had noticed in the airport that Emma strongly resembled her mother and, in his book, that made her lucky. Mother Nature definitely had a soft spot for the Davis women.

She walked up to him and tucked her arm through his. “Down, girls. Don’t scare the poor man away or Emma will kill us. This is my daughter’s new boyfriend who I was telling you about. Isn’t he delish?”

Delish? Good grief, he had at least ten women staring at him now as if he were a prime piece of meat while Kat stood beside him looking proudly on. “Maybe I should run back upstairs and check on Emma.”

As he turned to make his escape, Emma walked down the last step, landing beside him. “Oh, no need, honey, I’m right here. I see you’ve met the girls.” Then turning toward the group, she offered them a bright smile. “Brant and I can’t wait to sit in on your book club meeting tonight. It’s all he’s been talking about since Mom invited us.”

He gave her a forced smile that he hoped adequately conveyed his feelings of murderous intent. “You know, since there are no other men in the group, maybe we should sit this one out, dear. I wouldn’t want to impose.” As everyone rushed to assure him that they couldn’t wait to have a male opinion in the group, he knew he was screwed. How bad could discussing some book about shades of gray be? He was relieved that the name indicated that it wasn’t any type of romance book. God, that was a relief.

Everyone fell in line behind Kat as she led them out the patio doors off the kitchen. Brant took a deep breath, smelling the ocean along with the mouth-watering scents of the grill. Beside him, Emma suddenly squealed and flew across the patio into a man’s arms. “Daddy!”