JACKED (12 page)

After the most luxurious shower Emma had ever enjoyed, she rubbed lotion over her skin to try to replenish some of the oils she’d blasted from her body. Tonight was the main meeting with Tobin.

When Will had given her the money for clothes he’d said, “Get yourself something understated and classy. The restaurant has a dress code. Ladies can’t wear slacks.”

She’d bought a black linen sheath, formfitting but not tight. Black sheer hose and kitten heels completed the ensemble. With Tobin in the picture, she wished she’d picked out something even more conservative. She would simply have to sit right next to Will. Her engagement ring flashed in the bathroom lights, bringing a smile to her lips. He was her fiancé. For tonight, anyway. Of course she’d sit right next to him. She imagined trailing her fingers along his collar and gazing deeply into his eyes. Wouldn’t that shock the ice king? Delicious heat shimmered through her body.

Her attraction to William Briscoe was like the vision of a desert oasis—a mirage. There were so many times when she was sure he held her in a certain regard, but when she drew close, thirsting for more, the signs vanished. It was absurd to yearn for him like she did, but there it was. She couldn’t help it. She was head over heels for a man who had no heart whatsoever.

A terry robe hung on the back of the door and Emma wrapped it around herself. The hot shower had revived her. Tonight, she decided, would be about having fun. One last weekend before her final semester started. It was all make-believe, but at least she knew that going in. Tobin couldn’t bother her if Will was near.

Her suitcase was still in the entrance hall and she chastised herself for not bringing it into her room. Cracking the door, she peeked into the suite’s den. It was empty. Will was probably in his room getting ready. The idea of him nearby showering or dressing made her shiver. An image of him, a towel slung low over his hips and his broad chest bare, wrapped a coil of lust around her. His shoulders were heroic, his arms as brawny as a prizefighter’s. He was handsome
and
built like a gladiator, his pre-dawn workouts and his physique both topics secretaries whispered about in the break room. The delicious image of him barely dressed just one room over made her breath stall in her lungs.

She shook her head to clear the salacious thoughts and tiptoed to the foyer. She was halfway back to her room when Will cleared his throat behind her. She yelped in surprise. Scorching embarrassment burned inside her.

He leaned against a doorway, holding a bottle of water. “What’s the red thing sticking out of your luggage?”

Emma looked down. A strip of fabric, crimson red and lacy, poked out from the top of her suitcase. Red? When she’d shopped yesterday, she’d bought things that were black, white and neutral. Nothing red. A price tag dangled from the red lace. The tag from Neiman Marcus was for seventy-five dollars.

Emma stood rooted to the ground. Why was there something from Neiman’s in her bag when she hadn’t stepped foot inside that store? Her heartbeat began to pound in her chest. Her breath froze. Will crossed the room and took the suitcase from her and tossed it on the couch. He looked at her expectantly and Emma understood his tacit command, walked over and slowly unzipped it. On top lay a guidebook.
Planning the Perfect Hawaiian Honeymoon
. On the cover were a bride and groom walking through the surf, a glorious sunset behind them.

Will pulled out a shoe from the suitcase, a strappy high heel. He hooked the strap over his index finger and let it dangle. “Em?”

She stared in horror as he set the shoe down and then tugged the crimson lace from the depths.

“Funny,” he mused. “In all the time you’ve worked for me I never pictured you as a thong girl.”

“This isn’t my stuff,” she sputtered. “I didn’t go to these stores.”

Will watched Emma. Intently. He’d already surmised as much, guessed the underwear wasn’t hers. She would never bring something like that on a trip with him, and he knew in an instant what had happened. Satisfaction settled inside him. The idea that she was experiencing what had to be excruciating embarrassment made him inexplicably happy. What he wanted was to have her in his bed tonight, but seeing her pale cheeks grow paler and then pink with mortification made him consider the idea of simply taking her to bed now. For the weekend. They could just order room service. Who needed a perfect record at closing deals? Tobin could fuck himself.

He shrugged. “Well, you’ll have to make do.”

“I’m going to be sick if I end up doing something to mess up your record.”

Will steeled himself to wear a mask of indifference, but inside his wicked thoughts drifted to the idea of Emma penitent over any of the evening’s missteps. His body hardened. His blood pounded through his veins. The girl he’d lusted over all summer stood before him in nothing more than a robe. It took every ounce of resolve to keep from snatching her into his arms and carrying her to his room.

“I’m going to have to wear this stuff around Mr. Tobin. I’m so sorry for all this. I really am.”

Will felt his arousal shift to something different when he saw her concern—her fear. Had Tobin bothered Emma? When Emma had first started, Tobin asked dozens of questions about her, and finally mentioned something about ‘bagging her.’ Will had silenced him, telling him to watch his mouth. Tobin had dropped the subject immediately, but Will never had a good feeling about his client after that. Because of Tobin, Will had bought the ring for Emma to wear on this trip.

His lust vanished and a primitive protective instinct reared its head and gnashed its teeth. Something about her eyes, the vulnerability in her expression, riveted his attention to her. Emma—his good luck, his muse, the star of his dreams—was afraid. The thought was like a punch to his gut.

“You’ll look great in whatever you wear, Em.” He wanted to reach out to her. To take her into his arms finally, but didn’t dare. He couldn’t trust himself. “I’ll look out for you,” he added. And he meant it. He would keep a close eye on his client tonight. Tobin would have to go through him to upset Emma.

She looked at him with a grateful smile. Guilt stabbed his gut. Will watched her go to her room. Her smile, her brightened mood, pleased him ridiculously. He couldn’t bear to think of her unhappy. Her boosted spirits lifted his, lit a light within him. The girl absolutely fucked with his mind whether she knew it or not. Was she playing him? Some women—no, make that most women—loved games. He sat down on the couch and tried not to think of her trying on that woman’s sexy clothes or how they would look on her. After closing the deal with Tobin, he’d bring her back to the hotel and play a few games of his own. And by the end of the weekend he’d have Emma Childress out of his system. Finally.

End of the preview.
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