Unexpectedly Hers(50)
“Oh, shit. Emma will freak. I’ve got to put a stop to that.” He slapped Ryder’s shoulder. “See you when I get home.”
Wyatt strode across the lobby to where Mari stood with a camera-ready Jim. Holding up his hand, he said, “Stop!”
Mari tossed Jim a look that warned him not to go far. “Wyatt, you need to let me do my job.”
“This documentary is about my comeback, not my personal life.” Wyatt rested his hands on his hips, feeling uncomfortable in the jacket.
“This documentary is about you,” Mari replied. “You are the reason people will want to watch it. Yes, the comeback story is the anchor, but you are the subject. So if you choose to do charity work, or if you go on a date with a girl you meet along the journey, like it or not, that is part of your story.”
“Emma never agreed to having her life and friends exploited.” He raked his hand through his hair. “Please, Mari. Besides, this isn’t a date. We were both invited to the same party. We’re just driving over together. That’s it.”
True statement, although a part of him hoped for something more, even though he knew he shouldn’t.
He heard Jim clear his throat. When he glanced over, he saw the camera light on. Jim had started taping despite Wyatt’s protest. Wyatt rotated further and saw Emma descending the stairs. His jaw sagged open, and Mari and Jim faded into the background as he took in the gorgeous vision in emerald green.
Gone was the nondescript clothing she’d worn for the past week. Her fitted dress had some kind of sheer overlay and sleeves, embellished with an occasional pop of beading. She’d pulled the front sections of her hair back in sparkly combs, and styled the rest into long, loopy curls that softly framed her face. The short skirt of her dress revealed toned thighs and calves that tapered into classic nude pumps.
Glossy lipstick clung to her lips, which were plump and kissable and made his body temperature spike. Her green eyes looked brighter surrounded by a hint of charcoal liner. Although everything about her still retained a demure tone, she looked sexy and womanly and very, very tempting. An odd sense of déjà vu passed through his mind, as if he’d seen her this way before, but it passed before he could pinpoint it.
“Driving over together my ass,” Mari muttered for his ears only.
He shot her an irritated glance before turning back to Emma. “You look beautiful.”
She did, and again he wished no one were around so he could tempt her, test her, touch her. The need raged inside, but he tamped it down.
Emma flashed a nervous smile. “Thanks. I didn’t expect to see you in a jacket.”
Wyatt tugged at the lapel. “Stole it from my brother.”
Emma offered Jim and his camera an awkward wave. “Just don’t steal the spotlight from Kelsey. This is her night.”
“If it gets bad, I’ll hide out in the corner,” Wyatt promised, reaching for her hand. When she clasped it, his whole body came alive. For a second, he didn’t move, shocked by the fact that he’d reached for her, and that she’d let him. A sweet victory indeed.
“It’s fine to capture whatever you want on film here,” Emma said, “but you cannot come to the party. I won’t let you usurp my best friend’s special night.”
“Fine.” Mari’s eyes narrowed slightly. “It must feel rather good, going to this party on the arm of a celebrity instead of going solo.”
The pointed remark appeared to bounce right off Emma. “What feels great is going out to celebrate one of the happiest occasions in my friend’s life.”
Wyatt couldn’t help but wink at her and her deft maneuvering around Mari’s loaded question. Still holding her hand, he gestured toward the door with his other one. “Shall we go?”
“Yes.” On their way out, she glanced over her shoulder at Mari. “Don’t wait up.”
Wyatt held her elbow as they made their way around the remnants of ice and snow in the parking lot. “Look at you, taking potshots at Mari. I always suspected your ‘nice girl’ routine was a cover.”
“Don’t equate nice with pushover. There is a difference.” Emma looked to where his hand held her arm and gently eased out of his grip. “That woman grates on my nerves. She’s so bossy.”
When they arrived at her old VW Passat, she pointed at the passenger seat. “I’ll drive.”
Wyatt covered a grin. Apparently Emma didn’t see her own bossy streak, but he’d best not raise it now. “I’ve never been to an engagement party, or a friend’s wedding, but I bet you don’t know why people wear wedding rings on the fourth finger of their left hand.”