The Proposition(15)

“Well, technically you’re not doing all this for a husband—you just want Aidan to spring an erection…or two.”

Emma’s body shook with laughter, sending her eyeliner arching up her temple. “Case, dammit, look what you made me do!” she said when she finally caught her breath.

“Me? I didn’t do anything but state facts.”

After cleaning off her smudged eyeliner, Emma flicked her wrist over and glanced at her watch. “Shit! We have to get a move on, or I’m going to be late!

***

Emma stared down at her phone for the millionth time. “Shit, shit, shit!” She was now fifteen minutes late, and her original text to Aidan had gone unanswered. She feared he was going to get pissed off and just leave. After all, he didn’t have to wait for women—they were usually willing and able at his slightest command. Her phone buzzed as her car eased up to the valet stand. Fumbling inside her purse, she dug it out.

One glance down at the message and her heart stilled and then restarted. “You sure as hell better get here. Fast. Not settling for a cold shower tonight.”

“Ma’am?” the valet asked.

With her thoughts consumed by Aidan, she didn’t even realize her car door had opened and a young man now stared expectantly at her.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Emma took the ticket from him and hurried into the hotel. Her gaze swept over the mass of strange faces in the lobby. When she didn’t see Aidan, she craned her neck, searching through the crowded room.

Finally, her eyes met his, and she gave a tentative smile. He strode determinedly towards her. At his frustrated expression, she held up her hands. “Oh, Aidan, I’m so, so sorry I’m late. Traffic was a nightmare and –”

He silenced her once again by crushing his lips to hers. He kept this kiss a lot more chaste than the night in the parking deck since they were in the middle of the teeming hotel lobby. When he pulled away, Emma smacked his arm.

“You’ve really got to stop doing that!” she protested.

“Kissing you?”

“No, interrupting me.”

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help myself. You’re like a fucking vision tonight.”

She widened her eyes and then smiled. “Okay then, you’re forgiven.”

Aidan grinned. “Glad to hear it. Are you hungry?”

“A little,” she lied. The very thought of eating made her want to throw up. Her nerves were still too out of control.

“Come on.” He rested his palm against the small of her back and guided her towards the hotel restaurant. A waiter outfitted in a tux sat them at a table with a gorgeous view of the sun setting over the city. He took their drink orders and then left.

When she reached for the menu, her fingers grazed Aidan’s. He glanced up and gave her his signature drop dead sexy smile. A mixture of burning longing coupled with crippling anxiety pulsed through her, and she shifted her gaze back to the menu. Breathe, Em. You can do this.

“What sounds good?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she murmured, keeping her eyes firmly on the menu. Food was the farthest thought from her mind. All she could think about was what was going to happen after dinner. What would it feel like to finally be intimate with someone else again? Most of all, she worried she could never live up to the expectations he had set for her.

Emma was never more grateful when the waiter returned with her margarita. She tipped it up and took a long, fiery gulp, sucking half the glass down. She shuddered when the alcohol hit her stomach.

By the time the waiter took their food order, she had guzzled the scorching tequila heavy drink and ordered another one.

“I guess they make a pretty mean margarita here, huh?” Aidan asked with a tight smile.

She bobbed her head enthusiastically. “Totally.”

While Aidan launched into a conversation detailing his promotion to Vice President of marketing and how he was looking forward to all the traveling, Emma worked at draining her second margarita. She barely processed his ramblings about working overseas and within the country for business. Instead, she focused on slurping the liquid courage through the tiny straw. Without missing a beat, she waved the waiter over for another.

Aidan cut himself off mid-sentence and quirked his blonde eyebrows. “Are you trying to get drunk off your ass so you can endure having sex with me?”

“No, no, that’s not it at all!” she cried.

He leaned in across the table. “You barely drank half of your margarita last week. Now you’re downing them like a lush fresh out of rehab.”

Emma drew in a deep breath, deciding it was best to be honest with him. “It’s just…I’m nervous that’s all.”