Emily's Affair (5 page)

Jake leaned down and whispered in her ear, "I'll see you tomorrow, sweetheart."

Emily tilted her head to the side. "Did you get what you came for?"

Jake reached around her and picked up the checkbook. "What do you think?" He caught her free hand and, keeping his eyes on hers, raised her palm to his lips. "Until tomorrow."

"Until tomorrow," she murmured with a half smile gracing those lips which he needed to kiss. "Be good," she said into the phone.

Jake reluctantly released her hand and, mindful of ol' Johnny who was once again straining at the buttons, walked towards the door. He pushed open the glass door and heard her say behind him, "No, Marilyn. Booker is most definitely not invited."

If Jake had stayed a minute longer, he might have seen Emily drop like a dead weight into an overstuffed, beige armchair and whisper into the phone, "It happened again. And it was much, much bigger. I need a cigarette. I know I don't, but… Lord Almighty, he's gonna drive me to it. Do you think you can get Booker to come over and carry me up to my place? I don't think my legs are going to work for another hour or so."

"I love those boots," Marilyn said. "Where did you get them?"

"Last Summer in Milan." Lee picked up her black, suede jacket and slipped into it. "They were practically nothing. When did you get that dress? I went through your closet just last week and that wasn't in there."

Marilyn shrugged and glanced down at her burgundy velvet, body hugging material. "I made it."

"No way." Lee motioned for Marilyn to twirl. "Excellent seam work. Is there a zipper?"

Marilyn lifted her left arm. "Not bad, huh?"

"Not bad at all." Lee leaned in closer and touched the nearly invisible flap which covered the burgundy colored zipper. "You have a true talent. But which did you pick first: the zipper or the fabric?"

"The zipper. If I tried it the other way I would never have found a match." Marilyn pushed up her bosom and viewed her profile in the mirror. "How do I look?"

"You look like a twentieth century Scarlet O'Hara. Only a tad taller."

"Oh, darlin'," Marilyn drawled. "Why I am a Southern Belle at heart." Her eyes fluttered.

"Honey, save your charm for Rhett."

"As God as my witness— How does the rest of it go?"

Lee groaned and rolled her eyes. "If I tell you, you'll be saying it all night long. Come on, let's go. Who's driving?"

As if on queue, someone knocked on the front door.

Marilyn brushed past Lee and, hiking her skirt up, jogged for the door. "That'll be our chauffeur now."

"Marilyn. I thought we decided that it would be a good idea not to—"

Marilyn yanked open the door and beamed at the six and a half feet of ex-Marine invading the doorway. "Bookah! Dahlin'! I thought you'd never get here." She went up on tiptoes and kissed his proffered cheek. "Mmm, you smell delicious."

"Thank you. You look marvelous." Booker whistled appreciatively as he glanced at Lee. "Oh, baby doll, this guy doesn't have a chance. Now, Lee, before you say anything, I promise not to threaten the guy or do anything which might be misconstrued as… hostile. Besides, I already checked him out and he's clean. I'm just going along for the free drinks. Marilyn said Jake was buying."

Lee grabbed her purse and slung it onto her shoulder, then tossed her keys to Booker. "If I didn't love you both to distraction, I would have stopped hanging around you a long, long time ago."

"Did you hear that, Mother," Booker said, sniffing indelicately. "She said she loves us. Aw, damn, I'm gonna cry."

Marilyn laughed and allowed Booker to hold her jacket for her. "The poor dear is just a little scared. Did I tell you that she had another—"

"Marilyn!"

"Orgasm?"

"Damnation. You just had to go and tell him, didn't you? And I am not scared. I am in perfect control of my emotions." It was a lie. Emily Katherine Stafford was terrified, but her alter ego, Lee, was damned if she was going to let her fear show.

Lee had a plan and nothing was going to get in the way of her plan. She was going to seduce Jake and find out what the devil Marilyn thought was so great about having a man in her life. Lee would have an affair and she would do it on her terms and no one else's. 'Cause the last thing she needed was to let someone close enough to interfere in her busy life.

Booker was incredulous. "His voice again?"

Lee marched out the door and started down the hallway for the stairs.

"That and his hands. He was massaging her shoulders. I heard the whole thing. It was quite innocent. I don't think he had a clue that she was about to collapse with ecstasy."

The keys jingled as Booker closed and locked the door. "Either this guy has something which should be bottled or," he chuckled and offered his arm to Marilyn, "our little baby doll is about to explode into womanhood."

"Oh, for Heaven's sake." Lee folded her arms over her chest, tapped her foot impatiently, and glared at the happy couple meandering slower than frozen molasses down the corridor. "Sometime this century, please."

"I think our little baby doll is about to explode from something all right," Marilyn murmured.

"Since you've heard her do it before, I want you to let me know when it starts to happen. I've never seen a woman go over the edge because of a man's voice."

"We'll just have to keep a close eye on her. I doubt she'll let us know when it's about to happen."

Lee had heard enough. She pushed open the stairwell door and descended. "I knew I never should have told her. I can't help it that it happens. I can't help it if it happens in my sleep, too. It's completely unfair that I—"

"Whoa. In your sleep, too? Man, Lee. You need it bad."

Lee spun around and glared at them. "Don't you think I know that? I am either going to go insane or… well, what are you two lolligaggin' for? It's almost eight o'clock. Get a move on it. Hut, hut. Move it, move it."

"Oh, Booker, our little baby doll takes after you in so many ways."

Lee muttered curses under her breath and stomped down the stairs.

"But she's got your mouth, Mother. I certainly never taught her those filthy words."

"Is that her?"

For the umpteenth time tonight, Jake looked towards the entrance of the bar where a female stood. "No. Hand me another one of these." He tossed Alex an empty beer bottle.

Alex grabbed a beer from the cooler and passed it to Jake. "What time is she supposed to be here?"

"Eight." Jake left Alex and took care of a customer.

"It's ten past eight. Should you call her?"

Jake turned on his friend. "What is up with you? She's female. Females are always late. It's deemed fashionable. If I say she'll be here at eight, that translates into somewhere between eight and nine."

"Oh. Yeah. Right."

They both moved off to take care of their ends of the bar. After a few minutes, they met up again at the cash register.

"You wouldn't be thinking of moving in on my territory, would you," Jake asked.

Alex's face rumpled into a mask of indignation. "I'd never. I want to know so I can see if what you said was true."

"What?"

"The cotton panties issue."

"Oh. As long as that's it."

"Honest. That's the only thing I'm curious about. Well, not the only thing. I am interested in what her friend looks like."

Jake went off to take care of another customer.

Nick appeared on the scene. "Is she here, yet?"

Alex and Jake turned to him. "No."

"Damn." Nick pulled back. "Relax. She's a woman, so it's understandable that she's late."

"Told you, Alex." Jake turned around and went to the register.

"Sweet Jesus," Alex breathed.

Nick whistled. "Tell me that is not her," he uttered with meaning.

"Who?" Jake spun around and the world tilted. Emily was here and she looked… like a goddess out on the hunt. "Man o' man, Emily. What are you wearing?"

Three quarters of the bar's population happened to be male and three quarters of the bar stared at Jake's goddess. A surge of intense male satisfaction pumped through his veins.

Emily turned her head slightly to the left, to the right, then straight ahead and spotted Jake. A golden brow arched and the kind of smile you would expect to see on a woman's face after a glorious night of passion lit her eyes. Wisps of her golden hair teased and caressed her beautiful features. She slipped from her jacket and a collective whimper of appreciation echoed in the bar.

She was dressed all in black. Her shirt hugged her figure the way Jake wanted his body to do. It wasn't tucked into her skirt, but rested a half an inch above the skirt's waistband. Her stomach was flat and smooth. Her skirt was long and tight, with a slit up the left side of those legs that he'd imagined wrapped around him so very many times. The black boots rode high up her leg, probably as far up as her knee, and she stood still on heels which he knew would bring the crown of her head to the top of his shoulder.

"Jake, my friend, there is only one thing better than cotton," Alex said in pained tones. "And that is nothing at all." There were many matters Alex and Jake agreed upon, and this was definitely one of them.

Seemingly oblivious to the rest of the occupants in the room, Emily stepped down the steps and marched straight toward Jake. He couldn't have looked away from the heat and intensity of her gaze if he'd wanted to. He damn sure didn't want to.

Customers moved out of her way. No one and nothing got in her way. All the world but Emily stopped moving while she carved a path straight to him.

Jake managed to wipe the blank look from his face, remember to breath, and give in to the urge to smirk. He stepped forward and rested his hands on the bar. The two regulars, Bud and Frank, who inhabited this slice of the bar from open to close, parted for Emily like the Red Sea.

She moved in between Bud and Frank, tossed her jacket onto the counter, and did something that would be forever—forever and ever and
ever
, thank God—etched in his mind.

Emily stepped up onto the foot railing, leaned across the bar, grabbed Jake by the shirt, and pulled him close for the all time, greatest first kiss. Time stopped as her tongue stroked and mated with his. He gave up on breathing; it was a bad habit anyway. He didn't need to breathe. It wasn't essential to living. Tasting Emily, however, was essential.

Jake felt more than heard her moan. She tasted like… peaches and hot cream. He grabbed her wrists and nearly dragged her across the bar.

Emily lessened the kiss and smiled against his lips. Her tongue—which was evil, wicked, and did things that no woman should know about, let alone be able to do—flicked along his bottom lip. "I wanted to thank you."

"You're welcome," he replied raggedly while gazing into the indigo depths of her eyes. "For what?"