Fifteen Weekends (8 page)

  “You look beautiful today, Em.” Ethan stopped to tangle his fingers through a few of Emily’s loose curls that hung just below her shoulder. “Good enough to eat,” Ethan hissed seductively. “So delicious in fact, I’d love nothing more than to spread you out on this table and fuck you until you beg me to stop.” 

  Emily’s mouth curled up as she bit her bottom lip. Walking to the left side of the table, Ethan grabbed an apple out of the basket and lightly tossed it up in the air with his right hand. The apple came back down and Ethan grasped it, pulling it up to his mouth and taking a bite. He looked back giving Emily a wink, and with that he walked out of the room.

  All the air expelled from Emily’s chest as her palms hit the flat surface of the table causing the bagel to roll a few inches towards the edge.
Fuck me! Did he just say that?

  Desperately trying to compose herself, Emily stood there thinking about the previous evening with Ethan. Knowing the super-charged heated attraction was still rippling between them today sent shockwaves coursing through Emily’s entire body. Emily couldn’t help but grin wickedly as she walked back to her office. It was going to be a good day.

  After work, Emily had entirely too much energy. She headed straight to the gym and ran nearly six and half miles on the treadmill. Standing at the water cooler she came face to face with Libby Westin and a twinge of anxiety and a flash of guilt crashed through Emily.

  “Hi Emily,” Libby gleefully hummed. “How are you?”

  “Libby, so nice to see you again,” Emily replied. “I’m doing okay. What’s new with you?”

  She studied the soft lines on Libby’s face noticing the delicate splash of freckles under her vibrant blue eyes. Libby was an attractive woman; she had a naturally slim build with a narrow waist and pale pink lips that pressed into a full pout.

  “I could be better. Ethan and I broke up, and that’s been hard to deal with,” she said, while pinning her dark red mane of hair up into a swinging ponytail.

  Emily’s spine stiffened when she noticed the glint of pain flash in Libby’s eyes. What could Emily say to Libby, without sounding the least bit overjoyed? Emily did what all women do, she faked it.

  “I’m sorry to hear that Libby,” Emily offered giving her a sympathetic smile.

  Libby kept talking about how much she missed Ethan. Emily knew she was in dangerous territory, listening to her go on and on about how still loved Ethan and was hopeful he reconsider the break-up was heart-wrenching. Barely concentrating on Libby’s words, Emily replayed the hot and heavy kissing session she and Ethan participated in the night before. The sound of a gruff male voice pulled Emily from her lustful thoughts.

  “Hey, Emily, it’s good to see you here working out,” Andy snorted.

  Knowing she needed to get away from Libby, Emily apprehensively asked Andy to show her a few core exercises. He happily said he would, allowing Emily to say goodbye to Libby, while offering a comforting touch to the arm followed by a “hang in there” sentiment.

  The pair walked over to the mats and began with some light stretching. Once Emily saw Libby comfortably situated on the bike in spin class, she thanked Andy and said, “I’m sorry, I have to be leaving. I have a friend coming over for dinner.”

  Andy frowned, replying, “I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you walk away.”

  A repulsive shiver curled through Emily.
Gross. He’s such a douchebag meathead.

 
“Andy,” Emily huffed. “Do you really think that line sounds remotely sexy?”

  Caught off guard by her snide tone, he replied, “Worked on you once, babe.”

  “Actually, Andy that wasn’t the line you used on me. And for the record, it wasn’t that great,” Emily snapped.

  Andy’s mouth hung open as if the words she uttered were completely foreign to his self-inflated ego. She turned on her heel and started to walk away, but Andy pulled her into his solid frame. Her sweaty back clung against his rippled chest, he was completely stiff.
  “Let me go, Andy,” she warned.

  Andy panted a few deep breaths. Emily cringed as his warm breath drifted across the back of her neck over her ear. Curling his heavy arm around her waist, she felt the complete weight of him. Andy’s body was a fortress of stone and dominant alpha maleness.

   “Don’t cause a scene, Emily,” he whispered, as he pressed his palm against her flat stomach then told her to raise her hands above her head.

   “Spread your legs,” he grinned. Now squat,” he commanded.

  She did as she was told, and he backed away. Andy made Emily do ten squats all the while muttering sexual innuendos through low groaning noises.

 
Disgusting pig.

  Although to everyone else in the gym, it just looked like a typical scene—a trainer helping a fellow gym member, but for
Emily
she knew Andy was trying to make her as uncomfortable as possible.

  When she finished her set, Emily shot him an icy glare and grabbed her water bottle.

  “Bitch,” he scowled after her. Emily ignored him and walked briskly to the ladies locker room.

  After that unpleasantness, Emily decided to change gyms immediately.

Chapter Eleven:

Ashleigh

  “Good Afternoon, Miss Preston,” Ashleigh heard a familiar voice say as she crossed the lobby of her building.

  “Good Afternoon, Thomas,” she cheerfully greeted the man with slicked back dark red hair. “How are things at the River House today?”  

  Thomas was one of four security guards that worked at the building complex. He was a nice older man, about fifty-five if Ashleigh had to guess, with a short and stalky build and bright blue eyes. Ashleigh frequently brought a postcard from the cities she travelled to for Thomas to hang in his office. He was determined to collect post-cards from all the fifty states and as many exotic locales as possible, Thomas had the travel bug, bad.  Unfortunately, she didn’t have one for him today since she traveled to London so frequently. Behind his desk, Thomas kept a binder of all of Ashleigh’s articles, often experimenting with recipes from the food she described in her features. She thought it was sweet. 

  Helping Ashleigh to the elevator with her second bag he said, “Things are good here. How was your trip to London?”

  “Honestly, it was too short, but I’m glad to be back home, if only for a short while anyway.”

  “Oh, where are you off to next Miss Preston?” Thomas asked, giving her a wide-eyed look.

  “I’ll be off to New York City next month for an entire week.”

  “The Big Apple. I’ve always wanted to visit the city that never sleeps, Miss Preston. Never had the chance to though. Maybe someday I will,” he said giving her a wink. “Have a nice rest of your afternoon.”

  “I bet you make it there Thomas. You do the same.”

  Ashleigh lived on the 30
^th
floor of the River House in a posh three-bedroom penthouse that had floor to ceiling windows with three terraces that offered panoramic views of the city, one of which over looked the Grand River. Ashleigh loved her penthouse, it was quite the investment, but thanks to her hard work and a guardian angel she was able to afford an incredible lifestyle. Her home was filled with light quartz countertops, rich dark custom cabinets and white ceramic floor tile throughout, aside from the bedrooms and living room where plush carpet covered the floors.

  She took her suitcases to her bedroom which was her private retreat—her personal sanctuary. A color scheme of silver pink, dark grey and silver chalice accented the space from accent rugs and pillows to picture frames and décor. Ashleigh had a separate seating area in the master suite with two dove-grey club chairs and a Venetian style mirrored coffee table near the fireplace that faced three large windows with a view of the river. Her most prized possession was the custom California king sized bed that sat upon a dove-grey tailor made tweed frame adorned with studded pewter-finish nail heads that flowed around the matching winged headboard. It’s a pity that Ashleigh has never
properly
broken in her gorgeous bed. Maybe, someday she would.

  After she had unpacked and put some of her laundry in the wash she went to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. Upon inspection of her fridge and pantry she realized she would need to hit up the market. Taking a chicken breast out of the freezer, she put it in a plastic bag and covered it with some marinade before placing it back in the refrigerator.

  She began to make a grocery list: bananas, milk, yogurt, bread, lettuce, San Pellegrino.

Finishing her inventory, Ashleigh grabbed her keys, the faint sound of thunder rumbled in the distance. An eerie shiver washed over her body, and she placed the keys back on the counter. Picking up the phone she decided to have her groceries delivered instead.

Chapter Twelve:

Ashleigh and Emily

  “Emily! I’m here,” Ashleigh called as she shut the front door behind her with her foot. The smell of vanilla made Ashleigh’s mouth water. She made her way from the foyer down the hallway and past her guest bathroom to find Emily was baking in the kitchen. Ashleigh grinned, noticing that Emily was whipping up a Blueberry Buckle.
Is it odd that someone who hates cooking with a passion loves to bake?
 

  “Should I pour some wine for us?” Ashleigh inquired. 

  “Of course,” Emily said while scooping the mixture into a large cake pan. “You know where the glasses and the bottle opener are. Go for it.”

  Ashleigh opened the wine and the smell of crisp gooseberries and melon cascaded out. Pouring two glasses, she handed one to Emily.

  “So, how’s Liam?” Emily inquired after she took a sip of the wine.

  “Liam is good.”

  Emily looked at Ashleigh sideways and smiled. “Is that all you have to say? Just that Liam is good?”

  With a laugh she ignored Emily’s question and just smiled. While Emily finished cleaning up her kitchen, Ashleigh padded to the living room and noticed several photographs scattered on the coffee table.

  “Emily, what is all of this on your coffee table? Are you getting ready to start scrap-booking like my Aunt Gloria?” she joked. Ashleigh began fumbling through the photos, noticing a very young Emily in most of the pictures.

  “Oh that. No, but close. I want to scan them in to my computer, and then I am going to place the originals in a photo album.”

  Even though Emily was still going on about the pictures, Ashleigh’s ears turned off when she came across a photo of Emily standing next to a guy wearing a white button down shirt and khaki shorts. Carefully examining the picture she noticed something familiar about him. Emily sat next to Ashleigh on the couch and picked up a few photos placing them back in the box.

  “Emily, this is Craig right?” she inquired while holding up the photo in front of Emily’s face.

  “Yes,” she replied with a deep sigh.

  Craig Walker had vanished from the face of the Earth and out of Emily’s life. Five years ago, Emily had gone home to Marquette for Thanksgiving. When she returned to their apartment in Chicago, Craig was gone. No note, no goodbye, nothing.