Emily's Affair (20 page)

Jake's smile faltered. He closed his eyes and faced the truth behind why he was taking things so damn slow with Emily. "She deserves better."

Better? Who would treat her any better than you? You would worship her. Cherish her. Protect her. Love her. Who else could do that better than you?

"No one," he breathed and had to force images of Emily, naked and in his bed, out of his head. Her first time.

Then stop looking for a way out and accept your future
.

"My future?" Jake laughed at himself. "I see a long bout in a psychiatric institute in the not to distant future."

Oh, bosh
.

Jake broke out in full blown laughter. "And they thought I was nuts when Jose Cuervo talked to me." When he calmed down, he decided it was time to take control of the situation and think about this in a logical manner.

It was true that there was a potential for something bigger and better with Emily than moments, hours, days of carnal satisfaction.

Much better and much more.

Emily was a successful, independent woman. She owned her own business. She wouldn't need to rely on Jake to support her. She wouldn't be one of those clingy females. Emily had made it perfectly clear—with her actions and words—that she wanted him for both his mind and body.

In less than two weeks, they'd explored her sensuality without removing a stitch of clothing. They'd also had one religious discussion, an argument about politics, and they'd agreed to disagree about philosophy. Emily was intelligent. Sexy. And ready for the next step.

But was Jake?

There was little doubt in his mind that he could, at any point and time, take her to bed and answer the call of ol' Johnny. He could sleep with her and have a marvelous time doing it.

But would it make him feel closer to her?

Would it make Jake happy?

Would it make Emily happy?

Would there be regrets?

Jake was thirty-three. Emily was twenty-eight. He was single. She was single. He made a good living. She made more than a good living. The Brigade, with Emily's help, was going to be a success. Emily's fashion extravaganza would be a success with Jake's help.

What came next?

Jake rubbed his forehead. He wasn't sure he liked the direction of his thoughts. If he didn't snag Emily, someone else would. And that was completely unacceptable. Emily belonged with him—hadn't he already convinced himself of that by calling her 'his woman' last night? It might have been thirteen measly days since meeting her, but the undeniable truth was… Emily Stafford had been made for Jake Grayden. She complemented him. She completed him. When he was with Emily, he felt whole. At peace. He felt deliriously happy.

Like I said
, his conscience gloated,
Emily's the one
.

Jake stared at his reflection and a slow grin crept across his face. "Well, I'll be damned. Emily's the one."

There was nothing he could do, but give in with the good grace his mother had taught him.

That's my boy
, his gut chimed.

Jake combed his hair, then went to the bedroom and changed into his favorite boxers, jeans, and T-shirt. It was time he took this relationship more seriously.

It was time to start planning for future and to stop letting his past get in the way of his decisions.

Jake finished lacing his boots, then walked into the kitchen where he kept a shrine to his less than exemplary past. He halted in front of the calendar nailed to the wall and picked up a black marker laying on the counter, then—like he'd done every single day since he made the decision to take back his life—X-ed out yesterday's date.

He tossed the pen on the counter and dropped his gaze to the only bottle of alcohol in the condo. A momento he'd held onto for the sadistic purpose of reminding him where he'd been, what he'd done, and why he wouldn't do it again.

Jake wrapped his hand around the cool glass bottle. "Jose Cuervo, you were a friend of mine," he murmured. "A real good friend."

He may have quit drinking four years, ten months, and seventeen days ago, but Jake knew he'd continued to depend on the bottle for support. He'd used Jose Cuervo to comfort him and to remind him.

But he no longer needed the kind of support Jose Cuervo offered.

The time when he could think about the future and its possibilities was finally here. He didn't need the crutch anymore.

And he wouldn't revert back to old habits. He knew—felt it deep within himself—that he had the strength to make it through the rest of his life without a drink.

Jake opened the cabinet over the fridge and moved the bottle to its new home. "No hard feelings, ol' boy. But," Jake flicked his wrist and the cabinet door slammed shut, "it's over."

He stood there, staring at the cabinet, and drew in a deep breath. "Damn, that felt good."

Jake smiled and, scooping up his wallet and keys, headed for the door. He locked up the condo and, whistling a little ditty to himself, strolled down the hall towards the stairwell.

He had one stop to make before making it to work. He'd promised to let Emily know when he had his revelation and so he would.

Emily wrapped her arms around her midriff and stared out the window in her high-rise office. Her desk was cluttered with work she couldn't concentrate on. There were a million things she had to do, but she didn't feel like doing them.

For once in her life, she couldn't focus on her business. Instead, she was obsessing over Jake's comment.

I'd rather you trust me enough to find out for yourself
.

Her vision blurred as the sun set over the horizon. Where was the rational line of thinking that had enabled her to cut through the BS of everyday life and build her own company? Where was the cold, determined, self-assured part of her which had given her the strength to rise from nothing to this high-rise building?

A relationship with Jake was supposed to be an easy, no-strings attached affair. It was not supposed to turn into a tug of war between her heart and her mind. Emily would never have considered an affair with Jake if she'd thought for one minute that he'd want a slice of her heart.

"He doesn't want a slice," she muttered. "He wants the whole durn cake."

Emily sighed. The sad truth was… she'd already given him the whole durn cake. She'd fought it long enough. It was time for Emily to stop denying the truth and be honest with herself.

She was in love with Jake.

How it happened, Emily didn't have a clue. At this point, she didn't care how it happened. What was important was… what was she going to do now?

She couldn't tell him. If she did, then he would expect too much of her.

"This bites," she murmured.

Love was too dangerous. Too powerful. One wrong word from a loved one could send someone over the edge and make them… do things they shouldn't.

Emily did not want Jake to have that kind of power over her. And she most certainly did not want that kind of hold over him. Once, Emily had made the mistake of loving someone too much and she would never do it again.

Never, ever again would she make the mistake she'd made with her mother.

If Emily could, she would stop loving her mother. But she couldn't. Oh, she'd tried. But she couldn't. Why? Because no matter how many stupid, irresponsible, irritating, down-right idiotic things her mother did, she was the woman who had given Emily a roof over her head, food on her plate, and life.

There had been a time—shortly after Emily ran away from home—that she'd felt guilty for abandoning her mother. Life at home hadn't been bad all the time. When her mother wasn't high, life had been pretty good. There was never a lot of money left over after her mother's weekly trip to her dealer and even less when her mother's career had started to wane, but that hadn't stopped Emily and her mother from going to the mall and window shopping. Or trying on clothes just for the heck of it. Or driving through the suburbs picking out their dream house.

Emily's eyes misted over and she bit her lip as it trembled.

Okay, so she still felt guilty. Emily had turned her back on her mother and left her alone to deal with a hard life. To deal with a life which Emily knew her mother couldn't handle on her own.

A life which her mother had tried to end.

That was why Emily had left. Emily had shimmied down the fire escape, because she hadn't wanted to face the fact that she was the reason why her mother had attempted suicide.

Emily should never have answered her mother's question with total and complete honesty. She should have lied when her mother asked, "Why don't you ever tell me you love me?"

Emily should have never replied, "How can I love a person who doesn't love themselves? How can I love a person who would rather spend our grocery money on drugs? How can I love a person who would rather get stoned out of her mind than go down to the school and watch her daughter win first place in an art contest?" She blinked back tears. "I stood up there next to the Principal and accepted the award. I scanned the crowd, but you weren't there. You were off with your slacker boyfriend, driving around town, looking for your dealer. And you ask me why I don't ever tell you that I love you. I'll tell you why. I don't tell you I love you, because I damn sure know that you don't love me."

And when her mother cried and said, "I'm sorry", Emily told her, "I don't want to hear you apologize. I want to see you do something about it."

By
something
, Emily had meant get off the drugs. She would have never guessed that those words spoken out of anger, pain, and love would have been taken in such a way that her mother would have swallowed an entire bottle of pain killers.

It was the one incident which occurred eleven years ago that showed Emily why she should avoid
love
. Because it wasn't some big, beautiful emotion. It was a destructive force.

Emily ran away from home, because she couldn't handle the guilt. Because she knew her mother was her weakness.

Because Emily didn't want to be loved or to love. She didn't deserve it.

Because it was better to be alone than to go through another experience like that again.

Maybe it was time to end things with Jake
.

The thought came out of nowhere and everywhere. Her stomach knotted with dread at the very thought of it. She didn't want to end things with Jake, but… it would be the best thing to do.

Wouldn't it?

There was a knock on the door and Emily didn't turn around as she said, "Come in."

"These just came for you," Marilyn said. There was a bright smile in her voice.

Emily brushed away the last remainder of old tears and turned around, then sucked in a deep breath. "What is… ohmigoodness."

Marilyn laughed and carried a vase filled with long stemmed red roses to the desk. "Well, don't leave me in suspense, baby doll. Get over here and read the card. I'm aching to know what your hopelessly romantic man has to say."

Booker appeared behind Marilyn and he closed the door behind him. "That makes two of us, Mother."