Enticing Emma (3 page)

Rubbing her temple with one hand to try to stop the headache that was forming behind her eyes, she placed the other one over her churning stomach, attempting to settle it. All she wanted right now was to get to her apartment, strip off her work clothes and lie down.

“Are you all right?” The low, concerned rumble brought her to a complete halt. Slowly, she raised her eyes and was struck by Tucker’s concerned expression. “Emma?”

“I’m sorry.” She shook herself, realizing she’d been staring at him. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” His blunt words had her back stiffening and the beginnings of anger running through her veins. If she didn’t look good, then it was his fault. He was the one who’d upset her entire well-structured life.

She opened her mouth but quickly closed it again. No, it wasn’t his fault. She couldn’t blame anyone but herself for this mess.

“I don’t think she looks well, Tucker.” Emma felt Mrs. Jacobs’s hand on her arm. Forcing herself to smile, Emma turned her attention away from Tucker’s intense stare to focus on the older woman. “Really, I’m perfectly okay. Just a hard day at work.” She decided it was time to change the subject. “What are you two doing?”

Mrs. Jacobs looked unconvinced, but thankfully dropped the subject. “Tucker is helping me put in some flowers. It looks so stark and bland out here in front of the building that I thought it needed some color.”

Reaching out, the older lady patted Tucker’s arm. “He convinced the owners of the building to pay for some of the cost of the soil and the flowers by telling them that he’d do all the labor.” Mrs. Jacobs laughed. “Then he took me shopping for flowers. The poor boy didn’t know what he was getting himself into when he volunteered for this.”

Tucker wrapped his arm around the older woman’s shoulders, bent down and planted a kiss on her cheek. “I’m having a great time and learning quite a lot from you. It will come in handy when I get my own home.”

“Oh? Are you buying a house?” Emma wanted to swallow back the words as soon as they passed her lips. It was none of her concern. But the thought of Tucker moving away, of not seeing him every day, started her stomach churning again.

“Not yet. Right now I need to get a few other things straightened out in my life.”

She couldn’t quite decipher the strange look he was giving her.

“But I’m hoping to start looking at houses soon.”

Not knowing what else to do, Emma gave him a polite nod. “Well, I’ll leave you two to your work.” Turning away, she headed up the walkway and into the building without looking back. But she couldn’t resist a quick glance over her shoulder before she was out of their sight. Tucker was still standing there with his hands on his hips, watching her.

Swallowing hard, she broke away from his gaze and trudged toward the elevator. She was too exhausted to even consider taking the stairs, and there was no need to, now that their first meeting since having sex was over.

They would go back to being just friendly acquaintances and she would forget all about the amazing evening they’d spent together. When the bell dinged, she stepped into the elevator, pulled the old metal gate across and watched the door close.

She had no idea at the time she’d still be trying to convince herself she’d done the right thing two months later.

Chapter Three

Emma tilted her head to one side and stared at the painting she’d just finished hanging. As the owner and manager of Art Inspired, she took a keen interest in every aspect of the business, but it was the art itself that she loved. And this painting was exceptional.

It seemed simple enough at first glance—a man repairing a fence. But closer inspection revealed layers of meaning. The man was pictured side-on, but he had his face turned away so that the viewer caught only a hint of the strength stamped there. The tilt of his chin gave him a slightly arrogant, self-assured look.

His body was strong, a tool to be used much like the hammer he held in his hand. He’d stripped his shirt off and hung it over a fence post. He was naked from the waist up, wearing only a pair of worn jeans and work boots. The muscles in his arms seemed to ripple with movement as he held the hammer poised to strike the nail on the fence.

The day was hot, the heat rising around him. There were several grasshoppers and a beetle hidden among the grass and a bee buzzing in the air. A bead of sweat was poised to roll down the man’s muscular back. Indeed, his entire torso seemed to shimmer with a light sheen of perspiration.

But it was his hands that held her spellbound. Encased in a pair of leather work gloves, one hand held the fence post while the other gripped the heavy hammer. The gloves came just to his wrists, which were thick and strong and tanned.

Closing her eyes, Emma swallowed. A droplet of sweat trickled down her temple in spite of the air-conditioning that cooled the gallery. She licked her dry lips as she imagined what his hands would look like outside the gloves.

Strong. They would be strong and hard and callused. These were hands used to hard labor, as hard as the man who owned them. But they would be gentle when they skimmed over a woman’s softer flesh.

A shudder racked her body. Her breasts swelled and began to ache, the hard nubs pushing against the silk camisole she wore under her linen jacket. She could practically feel the rough pads of his fingertips as they stroked across her nipples. Her body swayed forward toward an unseen hand.

In her mind, the man turned his head toward her, his green eyes glittering with undisguised lust. Tucker. Just the thought of him was enough to have her panties growing damp. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, trying to ease the growing ache, but it was useless. Her body knew what it wanted even as her brain screamed at her to stop daydreaming.

Yes, Tucker could easily be the man in the picture. He held himself with the same kind of confidence. He knew who he was and what he wanted. And, as he’d made abundantly apparent months ago, what he wanted was her. His every look and word had been designed to entice and seduce her.

The very first time she’d laid eyes on him, she’d wanted him. That had never happened to her. He evoked unwelcome feelings of want and need. He made her question her path in life, the decisions she’d made. He fascinated her, luring her with his easy charm and good looks. She’d never yearned for any man as much as she did for Tucker.

He scared her to death.

“Gorgeous, isn’t he?”

Emma jumped, gasping for breath as she swung around. She felt hot, achy and totally out of sorts. And it was all Tucker’s fault.

“Hey, are you okay?” Her assistant, Callie Jones, was peering at her with a worried expression on her face. “Maybe you should sit down. You look a little flushed.”

“No.” Her reply had been sharper than she’d intended, and Callie looked even more concerned. Emma took a deep breath and tried again. “I’m fine. I think the heat is finally getting to me.” That was as good an excuse as any. The weather had been unbearably hot for days and people were beginning to feel the effects. She could hardly tell her friend she’d been lost in an erotic daydream, featuring a man she was determined to avoid at all costs.

It must have worked because Callie became her usual cheerful self once again and pointed back to the new painting on the wall. “That is one hot dude.”

“Callie!” She tried to sound stern, but the younger woman just cocked an eyebrow at her, daring her to disagree. In spite of her earlier discomfort, Emma found herself staring at the man in the picture again. A reluctant smile crossed her lips and she pursed them to try to hold it back. But it was no good, Callie had already seen.

“See, you think so too.” Her light laughter filled the room and she slung her arm around Emma’s shoulders. “It’s okay to think he’s hot, boss. Just because you don’t like to date doesn’t mean you can’t admire the scenery.”

“Admire the scenery!” Emma sputtered and began to laugh. She covered her face with her hands and tried desperately to control herself. “I’ll have you know this is a serious piece of artwork.”

Callie shot her a coy glance from underneath her heavily painted eyelashes. “He certainly is.”

Laughing at her assistant’s antics, Emma shook her head and turned away from the painting. She could always count on Callie to make her feel better. The younger woman was a gem as an employee and a wonderful friend. An aspiring artist, Callie looked the part with her multiple earrings and her nose ring. She wore mostly dark clothing with dramatic makeup. Her talent was undeniable and she worked hard at her art and at the gallery, but it was her bubbly personality that attracted Emma. It was so unlike her more serious one. But the laughter was just what she’d needed to disperse the uncomfortable feelings the image had evoked. She needed to get back to work.

“I’ll be in my office if you need me.” She headed toward the small room at the rear of the gallery.

“Don’t worry. I’ll certainly keep an eye on things out here.” Callie’s laughter followed her all the way into her office.

Emma shook her head and sighed as she closed her office door behind her. Some days she wished she were more like her friend. Callie dated a variety of men, keeping it all very casual and enjoying life with a sense of vigor that Emma admired.

She, on the other hand, rarely dated at all and took life very seriously. Look what had happened the last time she’d tried dating. She still couldn’t get Tucker out of her head.

She sometimes daydreamed that things were different, but then her common sense would reassert itself and remind her why she didn’t trust strong, good-looking men. Her father had been such a man and she and her mother had paid the price. James Howard had swept Emma’s mother, Sarah, off her feet when she was just eighteen. Emma had followed only five months after they were wed. Any idiot could do the math.

Her father had flitted in and out of her life for the first nine years before finally disappearing for good one day. She remembered his charming ways, his easily broken promises and her mother’s tears. Emma refused to dwell on her own tears and broken heart.

Sarah Howard had lived on the false hope that her husband would one day return, right up until she’d died of cancer four years ago. Emma hadn’t even known how to contact her father to let him know. As far as she knew, her parents had never divorced.

If her childhood had taught her one thing, it was not to depend on anyone, especially not a handsome, charming man. Emma refused to be weak like her mother. She’d worked her way through school and opened a small art supply store, Artworks. Once she’d started making money, she’d saved and planned, finally achieving the goal of expanding her business to include a gallery as well. With her two art-related businesses housed in a small building on Summersville’s busiest street, she was living her dream.

She’d picked the community of Summersville to settle in after her mother’s death, deciding it was the perfect place to open her business. It was a nice-sized town without being too big, a pleasant community where people said hello to each other on the street, but large enough to support her business ventures. It also got a good share of the tourist trade from early spring until the leaves finally fell in late fall. All in all, she was pleased with her decision to move here.

She’d made a couple of very close friends, but her two businesses occupied most of her time. Her apartment, which was in an older building, was close enough for her to walk to work. She was thirty-one years old and she’d built a good solid life. If sometimes she felt restless and discontent, she ruthlessly squashed those feelings.

She’d dated her share of men over the years, but they were safe men, serious and plain-looking. Men occupied with climbing the corporate ladder or busy building their own businesses. The kind of men who never tempted her to question the decision she’d made to remain single.

She’d made a mistake with Tucker and had regretted it ever since. From the moment he’d moved into her apartment building, he’d made it abundantly clear that he wanted to get to know her better. Much better. She’d shied away from him, practically overpowered by his raw masculinity.

And yet, somehow he’d slipped past her defenses, charming her with his old-fashioned manners and his sense of humor. Even though he was so gorgeous that just looking at him was enough to make her drool, she hadn’t felt threatened by him. It was as if he’d kept all his masculine energy and testosterone harnessed while he was around her. In a moment of weakness, she’d accepted an invitation to go out to dinner with him.

One date had led to two and then to a third. They’d been totally normal dates, dinner one evening and a movie the next. Conversation had flowed easily between them as they discovered they had friends in common. It surprised her how easy she found it to make conversation with him. They talked about everything from politics to community matters to sports. Tucker was intelligent and made interesting observations on every subject they discussed. Their views were similar on some matters and quite different on others. That had only added spice to the conversation.

Even their first kiss had been totally nonthreatening—a quick peck on the lips after their dinner date. It had been restrained and pleasurable, but nothing to get worked up over.

Her guard had slipped and she’d found herself drawn to Tucker, wanting to know all there was to know about him. The more she found out, the more he fascinated her. She caught glimpses that suggested there was much more to him than first met the eye.

The kiss at the end of their second date had been a little more passionate. The heat had crackled between them, but Tucker had seemed content to let her take the lead in their relationship. That had given her a false sense of security.

It was on their unforgettable third date that she’d finally seen the
real
Tucker for the very first time. He’d walked her to her apartment door and, instead of saying good night, she’d asked him to come in for coffee. It was as if she’d somehow unleashed the sleeping giant. He’d practically oozed sex appeal and masculine determination when he’d bent down to kiss her.

She’d been swept up in the intensity of the passionate embrace. With all his attention focused on her, she’d felt like the most desirable woman in the world. And what woman could resist that? What had happened next still kept her awake at night. And when she did manage to sleep, she had long, hot dreams that left her sweaty and aching for fulfillment when she awoke.

That had been two months ago and Tucker had been true to his word. He didn’t crowd her, but he always seemed to be around the building when she was. His eyes got a knowing gleam in them whenever he saw her, as if he knew she was thinking about him. Then he’d give her a sexy grin to remind her they shared a secret that no one else knew. And always, she was aware of him as a man. His large, hot body standing next to her in the building lobby was enough to send shivers of desire coursing through her entire body.

He’d even sent her flowers once. She hadn’t been sure they were from him as there had been no card, but she’d called her friend Lily Summers, who ran the only flower shop in town. Lily had confirmed that Tucker had purchased the lovely bouquet of wildflowers. She’d hung on to those damned things until they’d begun to rot. Even then she’d been reluctant to throw them out.

Sighing, Emma rubbed her forehead with her hand. That painting in the gallery had conjured memories that she been trying desperately to forget. Tucker was responsible for far too many nights of lost sleep as it was. Now, he was affecting her work as well. And that just wouldn’t do.

Shaking herself out of her sensual haze, she buttoned her jacket over her swollen nipples and checked her phone messages. The familiar voice of her friend Annabelle Sloan came over the speaker, reminding her of their lunch date tomorrow. Emma, Annabelle and Lily all got together for lunch at least once a week and she always looked forward to it.

But that was tomorrow. She still had to get through today, she reminded herself as she tried to concentrate on the paperwork on her desk. It was only eleven in the morning, but it had already been a long day.