Blitzing Emily (6 page)

She couldn’t figure it out. He didn’t know her. He owed her nothing. Actually, she owed
him
. He shifted a little in his sleep and pulled the blanket higher around himself. He was probably cold. She could at least do something about that.

She shoved herself out of bed, pulling the blankets off as she went. She extracted a sand-colored woven-cotton blanket from the pile. It was still warm from her body heat. She tiptoed across the room.

She draped the blanket over him as carefully as she could. He stirred a little, but he didn’t open his eyes. She watched him sleep for a few moments. Maybe she should wake him up and tell him to go back to sleep in the bed for a while.

Maybe she needed to go downstairs, make some coffee, and get a grip on herself.

A short time later Emily was nibbling on a bagel and cream cheese she had found in the refrigerator when heavy footfalls sounded on the staircase.

“Good morning.”

“Morning,” he mumbled. He looked a bit dazed. “Coffee.”

“It’ll be done in just a few minutes,” she reassured him. “How’s your neck?”

He rubbed it a little. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”

He invaded the kitchen, found a mug in the cupboard over the sink, pulled the carafe out of the coffee maker, and stuck his mug under the stream. He replaced the carafe without spilling a drop. He sauntered to the other side of the kitchen. He wore a pair of navy-blue shorts, which matched his navy blue boxer briefs. She looked anywhere but at his bare chest, the vertical line of hair on his abdomen that vanished under the waistband of the shorts, and a six pack she wanted to lick.

“Navy blue?” she asked.

“I like blue.” He rubbed his eyes.

“Oh.”

“Billowing white cotton.” He indicated her nightgown.

“I like it.”

“It’s kind of . . . virginal.” He glanced at the kitchen floor, and a faint flush spread over his cheekbones. “And much hotter than most of the lingerie I’ve seen,” he said.

He avoided Emily’s eyes. She walked away from him.

“Want to sit down?” She tossed the words over her shoulder.

“Hey, let’s get the news,” he said, and flipped to ESPN.

“Excuse me,” she said. “
SportsCenter
is not news.” Despite his commandeering the remote again, she had to smile.

“It’s the most important news.” He laughed, and turned up the volume on the television. There was a photo of Brandon on the screen, and one of her.

“It’s the end of an era this morning,” the announcer said. “Our sources tell us that Brandon McKenna, the Seattle Sharks’ All-Planet defensive end and ladies’ man, is off the market. McKenna’s engaged to opera diva Emily Hamilton. Wedding plans are pending. Our congratulations go out to the happy couple.”

Emily turned to Brandon in shock. He grinned in response. Her home phone and cell phone both started ringing.

Chapter Four

E
MILY’S MOUTH OPENED
and shut, and opened again.

Brandon just sipped his coffee. The phones were still ringing. They stopped, and then started again. Emily’s voicemail was going to be full if she didn’t pick one of them up. Right now, though, it was the last thing she intended to do.

She took the deepest breath she could. “This is an
accident.
They think we’re engaged?” She gasped. “We—we’re not engaged. We’re not even dating. I met you
yesterday.
Why are they— Oooh!” Emily pointed at the television screen. “We have to
do
something about this.”

Brandon didn’t seem upset by this development. His body shook with laughter, and he put his cup down on the table in front of them. “Not dating? We could change that.” Emily’s glare was lethal. He ignored it, and stretched his arm out across the back of the couch, his fingers brushing her shoulders. “According to ESPN, you’re my betrothed. I’m thinking this could work out well for me.” His smile was confident. “How about making me some breakfast, sugar?”

Emily’s mouth dropped open. In the meantime the bare skin he was touching was starting to tingle just a bit. She was spellbound by her head shot on the television screen and she didn’t answer.

His voice dropped to a murmur. “Of course you want to do this for me.” Emily swallowed hard. She could feel the hot flush spreading over her cheeks. Even more, things were—liquefying. Yeah. She knew she owed him something for making sure she was still amongst the living, but cooking wasn’t one of her talents.

She shouldn’t be reacting to him this way. She knew better than that. “Player, player, player,” she mentally chanted. He could charm a rock, though.

He abruptly shoved himself off the couch. “I need to use your phone.” He grabbed the cordless as he strolled away from her. It rang again before he could hit “talk.” Brandon answered it.

“McKenna.” He turned back to Emily. “Just one moment.” She took the receiver from him. “It’s your manager,” he said.

“Hi, David.” She got up from the couch, walked to the kitchen table, and dropped into a chair.

“That must be your fiancé.”

“David, there’s been a—”

“Congratulations, Emily,” he interrupted. “The phone’s been ringing like mad. I’ve had five booking requests this morning already.
Five.
What are you, Renée Fleming?” he teased. “Reporters are calling me as well. When did you start seeing this guy?”

“Well, uh—It’s pretty recent. It took me by surprise, too,” Emily stammered.

“Must be. What would you like me to tell the press?”

“I’m not sure what we should tell them yet.”

“That’s not going to work.”

She closed her eyes. She was developing a throbbing headache. She wondered if it was possible to have two headaches at once. “David, let’s discuss something else right now.”

“Sure, Em. I’ll make a statement to the effect that you’re very happy, the wedding date is forthcoming, et cetera. The publicity’s already helping your career.” David sounded positively orgasmic about it all.

“Not yet. Let’s hold off on that statement.”

David let out a laugh. “Oh. I see—playing hard to get. How about ‘They’re just friends’? While you’re thinking, Emily, Santa Fe Opera called. They’re doing
The Magic Flute.
They’re offering Pamina. I think you’ll be happy with the compensation. Their lead soprano’s evidently got a scheduling conflict.”

Brandon emerged from the kitchen with the coffeepot and an evil-looking gleam in his eye.

Unbelievable.
The Magic Flute,
one of the most challenging pieces for sopranos ever, and in Santa Fe, an opera company famed for the quality of their productions. She felt like she was dreaming.

“Oh . . . of course. Yes, yes, I’ll go. Thank you, David.”

Emily said goodbye to David and hung up, dumbfounded.

Brandon poured them both another cup of coffee, and picked up the cordless again. He dialed a number, listened to it ring a few times, and said, “Hey, dawg.” Whoever was at the other end sounded agitated. “I forgot my phone in my locker. Everything’s fine, but I won’t be in the weight room today or tomorrow.” He listened for a few moments more and said, “No. I’m taking care of a very argumentative woman for a couple of days.” Emily let out an exasperated sigh. “They what? Is that so? I’ll give him a call.” She saw his lips twitch into a smile. “Coach is happy about this? Thanks. I’ll send you an invitation.”

“What?” she prompted.

He shot her a playful grin. “Okay. I gotta go. I’ll call y’all later. Bye.” He hung up, still chuckling to himself over something.

“‘A very argumentative woman.’” Emily said. “Oh, that’s rich. I can’t believe you would think—”

“Sugar, darlin’, there’s something we need to talk about. Right now.”

“I don’t think we’re talking about anything right now. I think—”

He interrupted her again. “Listen. We’re going to have to deal with this.” He leaned over the table and grasped her hand. “I know what happened.” He leaned even closer. Emily shifted away from him, but he didn’t let go of her hand. “There was a whole crowd of people standing around that nurse’s station when I was signing autographs yesterday. Evidently, they couldn’t tell she was kidding about the whole ‘your fiancée is looking for you’ thing.”

She shook her head. “It was a joke.”

“You don’t understand,” he said patiently. “I’m—well, when stuff happens, it makes the papers, it makes the national media, and then I have to deal with it. My roommate Greg says it’s hit the national wires. My agent has been trying to call me, and the press has been calling my house trying to confirm the story since last night. What did your manager say to you?”

“He said he wants to make a statement. He said people are calling that want to book me as a result.”

Another broad smile spread over Brandon’s lips. He picked up his coffee cup, and took a swallow. In the meantime, an idea was beginning to dawn on her. He’d never go for it. She should just forget it—

The phone rang again, and Emily snatched it up.

“Hello?”

“Emily.”

She couldn’t believe she didn’t check the caller ID before she picked up. It was James, and she wasn’t in the mood. She was sure she wouldn’t be in the mood for the rest of her life.

“Long time no talk. How are you doing?”

“Fine,” Emily said.

“I had to call and congratulate you on your engagement. This is wonderful news.” The coffee instantly turned into burning acid in her stomach. She was trembling. “I hope you and your fiancé will be very happy.”

Brandon’s brows knit together as Emily rubbed her face with a shaking hand.

“Thank you,” she managed to get out. “How is Heather?”

“She’s great. We’re both very happy for you. We look forward to meeting—Brandon, isn’t it? A pro football player. That’s interesting.” His voice was mild, but she felt the chill beneath it. Of course, he found it amazing that anyone would want Emily. He’d made that clear before.

“Yes. Yes, it is. James, I have to go—”

“I hope you’ll be able to let go of the bitterness and we can finally become friends, Emily. After all, it’s the adult thing to do. This was one of those things. Are you going to continue punishing both of us for it?”

Emily gripped the coffee mug so hard it should have shattered. Sure. She couldn’t wait to be friends with a guy who slept with her former best friend and voice teacher. When he wasn’t doing that, he’d spread rumors about Emily’s being “difficult” during productions throughout the entire industry. He put a serious dent in her career as a result.
Friends?
If she never saw James again, it would be too soon.

Brandon’s face turned into a thundercloud as he watched her shake like a leaf. Her stomach was churning, and she needed to get off the phone before she threw up.

“Let’s talk about that later, James. Bye.” She hung up, tossed the phone down on the table, and hurried to the staircase leading to her room. She had to get dressed for rehearsals today, but even more, she needed to get somewhere she could be alone.

“What happened, sugar?” Brandon called out to her. “Who was that?”

Emily stopped at the top of the stairs, took a deep breath, and told herself to buck up. James was the only person who could get under her skin like this, and it was time it stopped. She couldn’t believe she was still allowing him free rent in her head. She was so vulnerable with him, and it was such a mistake. She couldn’t believe she was stupid enough to think he ever loved her at all. She couldn’t believe she spent one minute of her life caring what he thought.

She wasted her last tear on him. She bit her lower lip, hard. All she needed was a couple of minutes to compose herself.

Brandon’s heavy footsteps moved up the staircase. He waited till she turned to face him and said, “Who was that on the phone?”

“Nobody.” The headache was now worse than ever. She needed to take a breath. More than that, she needed to cry, but she wasn’t doing that around anyone else.

“Maybe you should tell me the truth.”

“I’d prefer not to.”

“Let me guess. Your ex-boyfriend.” Brandon’s eyes bored into hers. “Wanted to chat, huh?” He braced one hand against the wall over Emily’s head. “News travels fast.”

His lips formed a bloodless line. She remembered a negotiation tactic she had heard many times before: The first to speak, loses. She swallowed hard. She stood up straight, threw her shoulders back, and tilted her chin a bit. He continued to watch her silently. She felt her chin quiver. She blinked rapidly in any attempt to hold back the tears blurring her vision.

“He really did a number on you.” Brandon’s voice was soft, and he brushed another tear away with his thumb. She closed her eyes for a moment. “He’s not worth your tears.”

She swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

“Well, sugar, I know I’m hungry. Let’s get another cup of coffee.”

Emily was doing everything in her power to pull herself together. He gave her a nod. He took her arm and led her down the stairs again.

B
RANDON COULDN’T FIGURE
out what had happened. Her indignation over the news of a nonexistent engagement being announced on national TV was pretty comical. Directly after that, though, the seemingly confident, self-possessed Emily crumpled like a wet paper towel over a five-minute phone call from a guy that had to be one of the more stupid people walking the planet, in his opinion.

She could be a handful. He wasn’t used to the women in his life arguing with him about anything. The more time he spent with her, though, the more intrigued he was. Obviously, she was beautiful. She had the kind of understated, bone-deep beauty that guys in his profession were quick to pass over in favor of women who paid good money for perfect faces and bodies. Emily wasn’t NFL cheerleader or Playmate of the Month material, but he’d have to be blind
and
dense to not enjoy the view. His mama didn’t raise stupid children, either. He’d wanted to meet someone like Emily for a while now. Even suffering the aftereffects of a concussion, she was smart, funny, and interesting. He appreciated the fact she didn’t collapse into helplessness and let him take care of everything. Plus, an idea had taken root that would help them both, and it was time to discuss it.