Taking the Score (21 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Emma smoothed the skirt that did not need smoothing and surreptitiously checked her phone again. Two minutes past her scheduled interview time. She smiled nervously at the receptionist for the Teagan Consulting Group, who gave a sympathetic smile in return, then mouthed, “Any moment now.”

The leather portfolio in her lap was stuffed with paper copies of her references and a résumé. Not that it was necessary. The person who would be interviewing her—a Mr. Tyler—would have received them with her application three days ago. This was the third job she’d interviewed for this week and she had a good feeling about it, especially as she’d received the tip from Hunter, when she’d called him a week ago asking if he’d provide a reference.

Entry-level property consultant. Working for Score Property had taught her so much, so she knew she could do it. The benefits were excellent, salary almost in her preferred range, and bonus: it offered tuition after a year. She could finish her degree at night, finally get those letters after her name.

A phone rang and the receptionist picked it up. “Yes, Mr. Tyler. Right away.”

“You can go in now,” she said to Emma.

With a nod of thanks, Emma wiped her clammy hand on her skirt and walked into the office. She gasped. It couldn’t be—no, no,
no.
Heart in a free fall, she took in the broad, instantly recognizable shoulders of the man standing at the window with his back to her. Having seen him in that pose a million times before, it was etched on her eyeballs.

A flurry of panicked thoughts pinwheeled through her mind as Brody turned, those silver-gray eyes betraying nothing.

“Ms. Strickland, have a seat.”

She remained standing, feet warring with her brain.

“What are you doing here?” But really, she didn’t want to know because her feet had won the battle. She was already pivoting on her heel and placing a shaking hand on the doorknob.

“Running again, Emma?”

No fair. She was a lot of things, but a coward wasn’t one of them. Composing herself without showing any signs of doing so, most notably breathing, was difficult. Turning, she found him leaning on his desk, so handsome pain slammed through her gut. How dare he look that good in a suit?

“I came here to interview for a job, but now I’m questioning if one even exists.”

“There’s a job,” he said softly. “Perhaps you should give me your résumé.”

Her fingers dug into the leather portfolio reflexively, concerned he might try to wrest it from her. She’d printed her résumé on 100-bond creamy vellum, which cost her what little she had left and damn, even that was precious. He’d already taken enough. “I’m sure you already have it.”

“Well, how about you show me yours and I’ll show you mine?” A curl of amusement lit up his mouth.

The bastard thought this was funny? “What’s going on here, Brody? Is there a job or isn’t there—you know what, even if there is, I wouldn’t want it. I can’t work for you.”

And still she hadn’t walked right out that door. “Why are you here? Do you own this place?”

“It’s one of my subsidiaries.”

Of course. She should have been suspicious when she got a call the very next day. The job search process never happened that quickly, but she’d assumed her rotten luck was turning. Damn Hunter Dade.

“Have a seat, Emma.”

She should have run from that office like hounds were nipping at her heels, but she hadn’t seen Brody in two weeks, and the void he’d left in her life had near destroyed her. Five minutes hearing whatever junk he had to deliver might tide her over. Hell, she wouldn’t even have to listen; she’d just watch that sexy mouth as it shaped words and that huge hand as it scrubbed his hair and that magic sex wand forefinger as it pushed his glasses back up his nose. Whatever garbage he had to say, she wouldn’t hear it above the pounding of her heart.

This would be her last act of selfishness. Gaze on his beauty one more time.

Setting herself down in the seat opposite him, she laced her hands over the portfolio in her lap.

“So the job you’re here about—”

“The entry-level property consultant job.” Which likely didn’t exist.

“Right. I’ve had a good look at your résumé and I think it’s only fair that you read mine. See if you’re a good fit for what we do here.” He handed a page over to her.

Heaving an annoyed sigh, she snatched it from him. Just your fairly standard billionaire résumé with name, email, addre—she blinked.

Address:
Hell, Illinois.

Her gaze flickered downward as she tried not to look too absorbed in the most riveting thing she’d ever laid eyes on.

Phone Number:
1-900-IM-AN-IDIOT

She firmed her lips against a smile.

Objective:
To win back the woman I don’t deserve or die trying.

Too. Cute.

“These things tend to be padded or a bunch of lies,” she muttered through quivering lips. He needed to know exactly how much weight she was giving this frivolous, yet highly romantic gesture.

“Speaking from experience, Ms. Strickland?”

Ignoring him, she read on, each word ratcheting up her pulse to triple-time levels.

Core Competencies:

Novelty socks wearer. God in the sack. Doctor Who and Star Wars trivia that wows at parties. Not insane (unless sexually provoked). Excellent singing voice (bonus: can make those with
terrible
singing voices sound good). Keurig button presser extraordinaire. At least twelve words of Spanish. Hot in glasses. Fuck-hot in a suit. Adored by cats named Kevin.

Education:

Extensive jacking off to Victoria’s Secret catalogs between the ages of 13 and 14 (okay, 15)

Bachelor’s degree in sex against the wall, on the bedroom floor, and in the shower, with a minor in safe sex on a balcony lounger at sixty floors up*

Graduate work in cunnilingus. Still need to produce an oral defense to get my PhD

* Unafraid of heights, but have deep-seated trust issues

Work Experience:

Jessica Benson, about two hours in the 4
th
grade—demonstrated innovation and early romance skills when I kissed the little pixie during art class. Showcased my ability to “take it on the chin” when she punched me on the chin.

Gillian Unger, freshman to junior year of college—gained experience as “boyfriend material” when singled out by the “cool girl.” Learned that women don’t like when you throw them over for a night of drunken debauchery with your friends in the math club. Exhibited incredible maturity* when she dumped me for a dick on the hockey team.

*Only slept with one of her roommates during payback plan.

Emma Strickland, since I met her to the day I die—gained cohabitation experience for an unforgettable five days that changed my life. Worked side by side with a woman who showed me the meaning of strength, bravery, humor, compassion, and love. Learned that no one is an island and that I am a better person for having known her.

This man. How the hell was she supposed to resist him? Widening her eyes to stave off the threatening tears, she tried to quell the rush of love in her chest. He didn’t deserve to get off so easily just because he’d pulled the über-romance card.

“Looks like gaps in your work experience,” she said on a sniff. “Nothing between college and this Emma person.”

She lifted her gaze and found him riveted to her, those gray eyes eating her up. She’d missed being the subject of such intense regard. Brody’s gaze had always flayed her alive, even when he hadn’t seemed to notice her.

“No one of note happened,” he said thoughtfully, “and I didn’t learn a thing in the intervening years.”

“That’s very honest. Most people would try to gloss over such a clear deficit.”

“Let’s just say that everyone up until this Emma person has been a rehearsal. Now it’s the big time, no more fucking around, opening night at the Broadway show—”

“Are you going to sing?”

“Would it help me get the job?”

The job. Her gaze dipped to the résumé. “You’re interviewing for a job?”

He nodded, his eyes shining with deep emotion. “The most important job of my life, Emma. The job of being your man.”

Her heart thrashed around her chest. It wasn’t fair of him to do this to her. To make her hope.

“But you don’t…” She motioned at the résumé in her lap. “You have deep-seated trust issues. You said it yourself. You even put it in here.” She waved the paper in her hand. “You don’t trust me, Brody. You thought I was going to betray you. From the first moment, you’ve been trying to control everything. Paying off Ray behind my back. Not consulting me on the really important decisions. And this résumé business might be a cute romantic gesture but it sure as hell doesn’t whitewash the things you’ve said and done.”

On legs shaking like reeds, she stood and thrust out the résumé. When he just stared at her and refused to take it, she let it drop to the floor. Trembling, she withdrew a copy of her own résumé on her precious 100-bond vellum. Scrawled a line across the top. Barely able to keep her body from doubling over with the pain, she flattened the paper against his chest and turned her back on the man it would take a lifetime to get over.

…

Brody blinked at the résumé Emma had foisted on him. Her address had been struck through and replaced with:
The Corner of Bite Me and Get Lost
.

Under any other circumstances, that’d make him laugh, but the time for joking was past. This was not supposed to be how it played out. The guy was supposed to wow the girl with the big gesture and enter stage left, gamboling puppies and helium balloons.

“Emma, wait.” He covered the unbearable distance between them and placed his hand on the door just as she moved to grip the doorknob. She refused to face him, her body language an ode to fury.

“Baby, I fucked up. Goddammit, I know that. What I’d just heard from Grigson, and knowing you knew about the video, it made for one long, tall glass of life sucks.”

For a moment, he wasn’t sure she had had heard him, but then she spoke, her voice quiet. “The thing is, I thought about appeasing Ray. For Daisy, you see. She’s all I have and—” A strangled sob hitched in her throat. “But running seemed like the only way I could protect you both. Then you told me I might have screwed up, but that didn’t make me a screwup, and
I believed you
. There you were, needling and poking and edging under my skin. Demanding I turn myself inside out, but at the first hurdle, Brody, the first sign of ugliness, you failed.”

“Emma.” He turned her to face him. “You are the most beautiful woman I know, inside and out. In bad suits and sexy stripper threads. In your giving heart and in every single thing you’ve done to protect the people you care about. I was hurt once and my knee-jerk reaction was to assume I’d be hurt again. I’m usually a better analyst of a situation, but my sore heart wasn’t up for another pounding.”

He laced his fingers in hers and placed them over his heart, now slapping violently against his rib cage.

“This bruised ticker belongs to you, Emma. You own me, body and soul. Every piece of me is yours to love or destroy. I love you. God, how I fucking adore you.” He rubbed his forehead. “This isn’t going the way I expected. Daisy said you’d be stubborn.”

Her eyes flew wide. “Daisy? As in my sister Daisy?”

“I spoke with her this morning and made her promise not to call you. I was going to move her out to Chicago, set her up with a job. Surprise you.”

“Brody…”

“I know, baby.” Had he learned nothing in his time with this amazingly independent woman? “I’m doing exactly what you hate. Taking care of business without consulting you. I’ve got to work on that. On looping you in on the decisions that affect you.”

She’d once said that love was an invasion of each other’s space, minds, and hearts, and that the only way to survive was for each person to be strong enough to handle the assault. Balance was important to her. He would give her anything so she felt like a true partner in their future.

“You were going to help my sister.” Tears flecked her lower lashes, the words spoken with a quiet awe. In her voice was a shocking vulnerability that carved him in half. “You don’t even know her.”

“She’s your family, Emma. Along with Kevin, that makes her my family.” He squeezed her hand, thrilled when she squeezed back. “But all the decisions we make about us, about our family, will be done together. You don’t have to do this alone. You’ll never be alone again, because I’ll have your back through everything.” He raised her palm to his mouth and laid a small kiss of promise on it. “Now I don’t expect you to trust me right away, to love me right away. I ask only for two small things.”

The silence in the room was torturous until she finally ended it with a barely audible, “What?”

“I’m asking that you be a little bit honest and a little bit brave. Do that and the rest will fall into place eventually.”

Moments, long, terrifying ones, ticked over and she breathed deep, as if coming to a decision. Her beautiful blue eyes flashed. “I have questions.”

Triumph roared in his chest, but he kept the smile building inside him on the down low. “I’d expect nothing less.”

“About benefits and compensation.” She gave a lascivious dip to his suit pants, lingering on his groin. “What kind of package can you offer?”

He gestured with his hand for her to move her gaze up to interview-appropriate level, but she kept her eyes where they were and watched as he expanded under her scrutiny. Oh, she owned him all right. Every lust-fueled cell.

“Excellent medical, dental, and vision. 401(k). Tuition. But we compensate well because we expect a lot of our employees. We’re an unusual company and you’d be required to master several new positions. Would you say you’re a quick study, Ms. Strickland?”

She hitched up her skirt, shimmied out of her black satin panties, and kicked them off. Stalking him, she flattened her palm on his chest and pushed him back to the desk. Her fingers wrapped around his tie and stroked it, letting it run through her cupped hand like she might work his cock. Never breaking eye contact, she unknotted it, unbuttoned his shirt, and spread it wide.