Now and Then (10 page)

“Cole’s not the kind of man you want to get emotionally attached to. He can switch to a new flavor anytime he wants.”

Emma resisted the temptation to roll her eyes.

“It’s funny with us,” she said, smiling. “I’m the one who wanted to keep it casual, but he wanted more. And he can be very persuasive.”

When guests started making their way toward the dining room, Emma excused herself and headed that way herself. She wondered if Cole had even made it outside. She gasped when an arm wrapped around her waist from behind. She turned and looked up into the blue-gray eyes that were becoming downright habit-forming.

Cole held on
, not moving into the dining room with the rest of the group. His gaze was intense, and she felt her body heating in response.

“You’re so sexy,” he said
softly, his eyes locked on hers. “Did you wear that dress for me?”

She
considered denying it, but something about his expression made her change her mind.

“I may have,” she said, shrugging and tossing back the last swallow of champagne in her glass.

“Tell me,” Cole said, a note of wanting in his low, sexy tone.

“
Yes, I wore it for you,” she said softly, reminding herself to breathe as she gathered her confidence. “I want you to want me.”

H
e groaned and tightened his grip on her waist.

“I
do, Em. And not just tonight. Every time we’re together. I want you so bad it makes me crazy. I want --”

The clicking of heels on the stone floor made them both turn toward th
e room’s large doorway, where their hostess Teresa Stanford approached and glared impatiently.

“Everyone’s waiting,” she said, snapping her fingers.

Cole flashed his boy-next-door grin and led Emma toward the dining room with a hand on her back. As they walked, his fingers slowly made their way lower and Emma pursed her lips to suppress her squeal as he kneaded his fingers against her ass. It sent a charge of desire through her body, making her want more.

Cole pulled out her tall, dark wood chair at the dining table, and she reache
d for her water glass when she sat down, hoping to cool her desire. Instead she warmed further at the feel of his palm resting on her bare leg, hidden beneath the table cloth, his fingers grazing her inner thigh.

“I don’t think we met earlier. I’m Marley Brandt,” said the
polished, pretty woman next to her. “And you’re Emma, Cole’s girlfriend?”

I am?
Emma grinned, loving the sound of the words Marley had spoken.

“So, Emma, what do you do?” Marley asked.

“I’m a graphic designer and an artist.”

“Really? That’s fascinating.”

“I love it,” Emma said. “What do you do?”

“I’m a partner at the firm.”

“That’s great. You must work hard, you look young to be a partner.”

Marley laughed and
reached for her wine glass.

“I’m not as young as I used to be. It took me quite a few years. I don’t think it’ll take Cole as long as it took me. He’s off to an impressive start.”

A small swell of pride rose within Emma. This was what being the girlfriend of someone like Cole would feel like. She glanced at him, wishing their story was the truth. She’d had a lot of casual sex in Paris, but only one relationship, with a Parisian artist named Matthew. It had been nice at first, but then just draining. Matthew had quit art school a few years before they got together and was struggling to make a living. It created tension between them until Emma kicked him out of the apartment they shared. His resentment and lack of motivation had dragged her down.

The cheesy bisque, crusty bread and deep red wine she was enjoying reminded Emma of eating at small cafes in Paris.
She wished she could roam around the city with Cole, showing him her favorite haunts and sampling all the best foods.

The
electricity between them was increasingly charged each time they were together, and tonight it was all Emma could think about. Though it looked like she was engrossed in the story Marley was telling, she was focused entirely on the sensation caused by Cole’s fingers stroking her thigh. The higher his hand roamed, the more eager she became.

She felt her eyes widen when
his fingertips reached the seam of her satin panties. When she glanced at his face, it was a picture of polite attention to the story Leo Stanford was telling about a trial he’d just finished. Nothing about Cole gave away the fact that he was brushing a knuckle over Emma’s panties, likely feeling the wetness his attention was causing.

Knowing what was passing between them under the table ma
de Emma’s pulse thunder. It was blissfully forbidden, and she was shocked by how arousing she found it. As she reached for her glass of water, she slid her legs apart slightly. No one else seemed to notice Cole’s sharp inhale.

She had a small, kin
d smile on her face, but when Cole’s fingertips skirted beneath the seam of her panties, Emma gasped involuntarily. Marley turned to her, concerned.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Oh, I, uh – forgot to feed my cat,” she said, clearing her throat nervously.

“Do we need to go, babe?” Cole asked, looking at her.
His fingers were still, but they were
there
, and knowing it made Emma sure everyone at the table must notice the flush she felt warming her face.

“No, it’s fine. He’ll just have to be patient and wait until we get home,” she
said, giving him a pointed glance.

“Ah, but he’s really impatient someti
mes,” Cole murmured to her, raising his eyebrows in amusement.

“
It’ll be worth his wait,” she said, reaching for his hand under the table. She boldly drew it to her lips and kissed his fingers.
Those fingers
.

Cole’s eyes closed briefly for a second and Emma smiled sweetly at him.
Emma heard Marley chuckle and wondered if she knew what was going on. The others at the large table were absorbed in their own conversations.

The intensity on Cole’s face empowered Emma in a way that reminded he
r of those one-night stands in Paris. It was hard to adjust to feeling like a sexy woman in Cole’s presence, instead of an awkward teenager.

Is
it even possible I can drive him as crazy as he drives me? God, this feels good.

By the time dinner was finished, she was only thinking about how much longer it would be until they could leave. Emma wanted to be alone with Cole, and soon.

His hand never left her back or her waist as they stood talking to others, its warmth a constant reminder of what was to come. When Cole announced they were leaving, Emma wanted to run from the house.

They said their good
byes, and as they walked to the waiting car, Emma gathered her courage, taking a deep breath.

“Do you want to go back to my place?” she asked.

“Yes,” Cole said quickly, a small smile on his lips. He looked like he wanted to say more, but the valet stood just a few feet away.

When his hand returned to her thigh du
ring the ride home, Emma wished he would drive faster. She’d been waiting for this much longer than just one evening. The air was filled with longing and expectation, and she forced away lingering thoughts of Layla and Cole being together nine years earlier.

“You sure you want me to come up?” Cole asked as he parked. Emma’s heart fell at his earnest expression.

“Don’t you want to?” she asked.

“More than you know. I just want to make sure it’s what you want.”

“It is,” she said softly, melting when he smiled and leaned close to kiss her. He made his way around the car to open her door, and Emma wished she could text Layla and tell her about the evening. She forced her sister’s image away, knowing it would ruin an otherwise perfect night.

Emma
pushed her front door open, running through a mental image of her apartment from that morning. Bed unmade, clothes on the floor, a few dishes in the sink…

Ugh. He’ll think I’m a slob.
Why didn’t I clean up the damn kitchen?

The bachelor style of her apartment left no place to hide a mess. It was one giant, open room, with only the bathroom offering seclusion.

“This is nice,” Cole said when he stepped in. He glanced at the corner where her easel and art desk were surrounded by paints and other supplies. Emma felt a flutter of anticipation as he walked over to examine the canvas she had been working on for a couple weeks.

“I
like this,” he said. It was an abstract of reds and oranges, swirling around each other in imperfect, circular patterns.

“Thanks.” Emma tried to force the flush from her cheeks, reminding herself Cole had no way of knowing the painting had been inspired by their first kiss.
Her passion, uncertainty and joy had all spilled onto the canvas the next morning.

“This place really feels like you,” Cole said as he studied several shelves of art, design and history books. Emma’s collection of antique vases was perched on top.

“You think I’m disorganized and second-hand?” She laughed.

“No. It’s bright and comfortable and so … real,” he said, looking at her intently. “It’s beautiful.”

“Do you want some wine?” she asked, piling her hair over one shoulder nervously.

“Sure.” He made his way to her worn navy blue sofa as Emma went to the kitchen to get the drinks.

“What the fuck?” she heard him mutter. Her eyes snapped toward him, a look of disgust on his face as he stared at a sheet of paper.

“What?” she asked, walking over to loo
k. Her heart hit the floor as she scanned the curved, feminine words.

An epic, mind-blowing fuck took place here today!

A smiley face and a hand-drawn
arrow narrowed down precisely where it had happened. Cole looked pissed and a little hurt when his gray eyes found Emma’s.

“Oh, shit,” s
he said, her face burning. “That isn’t my note, Cole.”

“Really? Other peop
le fuck on your couch?” he clipped, suspicious.

“Not usually, no. But Layla has a key.”

Some of the anger drained from his face.

“Are you seeing anyone else?” he asked, still sounding put off.

“Anyone
else
? Other than … who? I told you it’s not my note, Cole.” Emma met his eyes.

“I know it’s not your note. But I just mean in general, are you seeing anyone else?”

“You mean besides
you
? I didn’t know I was seeing you,” she said defensively. She instantly regretted it when his jaw tightened in anger.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll take a rain check on the wine.”

Chapter 9

As he wound his way out of the constant stop-and-go traffic of the city, Cole’s mind was focused on the case he was buried in at work. The patent infringement suit required a lot of technical research. He was in his element, immersing himself in work, doing whatever it took to win.

But the past couple days his mind had wan
dered from the case to Emma, as it did while he drove toward her parents’ house. He knew the dinner invitation was likely a ruse by Eliza Carson, and maybe his own mother, too, to get him and Layla together. He wanted to refuse it, but he couldn’t, knowing Emma might be there.

He regretted getting so angry
Friday night. It wasn’t the note, but their conversation, that he was still pissed over. Cole was used to women falling into his arms, but Emma didn’t, and it frustrated him like nothing else. He’d let the frustration turn into anger when not only had she not said she wasn’t seeing anyone else, she’d said she wasn’t even seeing him. What the hell was it, then? They went out, had kissed and – he’d hoped – were on the verge of finally sleeping together. If that wasn’t seeing each other, what was it?

His ang
er had grown stronger when Jen the paralegal had texted him Saturday night asking if he wanted to hook up. He’d thought about it, but told her no. Instead he’d gone out for a few beers with some friends and spent the entire night thinking about Emma.

Between his anger and sexual frustration, he was wound tight. But he also felt a tug of remorse that he hadn’t handled thing
s better Friday night. The evening had been perfect until he’d gotten pissed and left. He’d wondered over and over what would have happened if he had instead, in a less heated tone, told Emma he wanted to see her and only her.

The thought unnerved him, but it was true. He sure as hell didn’t want her seeing anyone else, and he couldn’t play it cool anymore. Emma didn’t realize the effect she ha
d on men. He’d noticed it at dinner with the partners and at the art gallery. It wasn’t her clothes or the way she acted, but just the look of her that men were intrigued by. Every time she laughed or tossed her long dark hair over her shoulder, she drew male attention.

Not the least of which was his. He didn’t want a relationship, but
there was no denying Emma had a powerful hold on him. When he glanced down at his speedometer, he shook his head with disgust at how fast he’d been driving because of his eagerness to see her.

He sighed, wishing he could occupy his mind
with work, but it was no use. As he turned onto the tree-lined street that his and Emma’s parents lived on, he realized he’d be deeply disappointed if Emma wasn’t there.

When he approached the back door and heard her laughter in the kitchen, h
is relief was palpable. Her eyes met his when he walked in, and he had to force himself not to race over and sweep her into his arms. She looked away sadly, and he wanted nothing more than to put a smile back on her beautiful face.

“Cole,” his mother said,
kissing his cheek warmly. “I’m glad you made it. You work so late on weeknights that I was sure you wouldn’t be able to.”

“What are you working on?” Layla chimed in. She was still dressed in a suit, her hair pulled into a neat bun, and Cole wanted to push past her and head straight for Emma. Nothing but her warm, sensual scent and loose, wild waves of hair appealed to him at the moment.

“Uh … patent infringement case. We represent an engineering firm.”

“Sounds exciting,” Layla said.

“Not really. I’m a junior attorney, so I mostly just do research.”

“Dinner’s ready, come on in!” Eliza Carson called.

Cole’s mouth watered at the spread she’d prepared. Grilled steak and shrimp, baked potatoes, a cheesy casserole and assorted other side dishes awaited.

“Mom, this looks so good, I’m starving!” Emma said, grinning.

“It does look good. Thanks, Mrs. Carson,” he said. She waved him off, but he saw her smile.

Emma sat on the oth
er side of the large dining table, avoiding his eyes. It was very different from dinner Friday night, when he had traced his fingers slowly up the warm, delicate skin of her inner thigh, enjoying her soft inhales as he climbed higher.

“Layla, is your office close to Cole’s?” Eliza Carson asked.

“A couple miles, I think,” Layla said. “I’ve been there a couple times.”

The two mothers kept trying to steer the conversation to how much Cole and Layla had in common, but he either deflected or ignored it. He woul
dn’t let anyone think he was interested in Layla, even if he came off rude.

Eventually, they retreated, and the conversation flowed to other topics as Eliza served the blackberry pie she’d made for dessert.

“So, Emma, how’s work?” her father asked.

“It’s good. Just the usual. I’m working on a web design project.”

“No pie, Mom,” Layla said, returning the plate she’d been handed. “I missed spin class this morning.”

“How about you, Emma?” Eliza asked.

“Of course. With ice cream if you have it.”

“So, do you have a boyfriend, Emma?” Cole’s mother asked.

“Me?” she asked, her eyes widening. “Um, no.”

Cole’s stomach
clenched with anger at her quick response. Her attention was focused entirely on the pie, and he knew she was avoiding looking at him.

“That’s too bad,” Jenny Marlowe said.

“Em, what about Brian? You’re seeing him,” Layla said. Cole’s nostrils flared unconsciously and he clenched a fist under the table.

“Oh, no, that’s nothing,” Emma said, her face darkening.

“You’ve seen him several times. I think he really likes you,” Layla said.

So that’s why she was so weird the other night
, Cole thought.
She’s seeing someone else.

He
wanted to demand Emma come outside and talk to him alone. Though he had no right to be pissed, he was. He was good at reading people, and he hadn’t thought she was seeing anyone else. How was it even possible? He hadn’t been able to even think about another woman since Emma knocked him over at the coffee shop. Obviously his strong feelings were one-sided.

“Thanks for dinner, Mrs. Carson,” he said, rising. “I have to head home, I have a lot of reading to do for a hearing tomorrow.”

“It was great to see you, honey,” she said, reaching toward him for a quick hug. “We should do this more often.”

Cole smiled, his eyes meeting Emma’s across the room.
They didn’t look remorseful, like he’d expected, but just as sensual and full of longing as usual. He pushed his desire down. Emma might not think he was good enough for her, but plenty of other women did.

*****

Emma made her “deep in concentration” face at the large computer monitor on Brian’s desk. Eyes narrowed, face scrunched, end of pen in mouth: it was how she focused best.

“It’s the drop shadow,” she said. “Lose the drop shadow.”

Brian clicked his mouse and they both stared at the screen for a second.

“Better,” he said, eyeing the brochure cover he had designed.

“It is. I really like it.”

“I’m meeting Julie and Caroline
for lunch at the deli a block over, you want to come?”

“I don’t want to intrude on your family lunch,” Emma said uncertainly. Brian waved his hand and gave her a look.

“Julie feels like she knows you already. I tell her about our conversations. And you’ve been wanting to see Caroline. Come on, Emma, you need a break from that computer screen.”

“I do,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “I’ll walk over with you and say hi to them and get some carryout. I’d
like to go to the park and draw over lunch.”

She stuck her supplies in her bag and they made their way out of the office. When they stepped into the mild day, Emma realized summer was almost over.
She loved winter in Chicago, from the bitter weather to the festive Christmas decorations.

“Damn, it’s almost cold out here,” Brian said, rubbing his arms. “You really look bummed, Emma. Are you still down over Cole?”

She shrugged as they moved with the crowd on the downtown sidewalk.

“I’ll be okay,” she said. “The whole thing was just--”

“Emma!”

She turned to scan the faces behind her, seeing Layla jogging toward her swiftly in sky-high heels.

“Hey!” her sister said. “Are you on lunch?”

“Yeah,” Emma said, sighing as she realized her plans to draw alone were about to be changed.

“Hi,” Layla said, extending her hand to Brian. “I’m Emma’s sister, Layla.”

“Good to meet you. I’m Brian. We work together.”

“Brian!” Layla smiled. “We meet at last. Emma talks about you all the time.”

Emma cringed as Brian looked at her, confused. She felt a sickening twist in her stomach as Layla’s eyes narrowed when she looked up from Brian’s hand after shaking it.

“Why do you have on a wedding ring?” she asked in a cold, no-nonsense tone. “Are you
married
?”

“Yeah,”
Brian said, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

“Layla, it’s not what you think,”
Emma said.

“You bastard!” Layla cried, rounding on Brian in a split second. “You worthless prick! My sister deserves better than some asshole who cheats on his wife! Emma, what are you thinking?”

They both stared at her in astonishment, and Emma felt panic rising in her chest.

“Um … Brian, you go ahead. I need to stay and talk to Layla,” she said.

“You better stay away from my sister!” Layla called as he stepped away, his face still frozen in shock. “I’ll tell your wife myself if you don’t, asshole!”

“Layla, stop,” Emma said, resting her hands on her sister’s shoulders. “It isn’t what you think.”

“What is it, then?” Layla demanded, her eyes flashing angrily.

“It’s … complicated,” Emma said. “I’m so
down right now, and so lost.”

“Oh, Em.” Layla embraced her tightly. “I
t’s gonna be okay. Let’s go eat something covered in cheese for lunch. We won’t talk about him.”

“Okay,” Emma agreed. Even though they walked in silence for a few minutes, Layla’s solid, reassuring presence was a comfort. She was Emma’s best friend. Maybe this would be a good time to confess everything. Layla’s guilt over being the author of the “epic fuck” note and Emma's sadness might be enough to make her not go totally ballistic.

“Layla, how often do you think people mistake sexual attraction for love?” Emma asked, lacing her arm into her sister’s.

“All the time. I’ve done it. Sex creates powerful emotions sometimes.”

“I’m genuinely happy alone,” Emma said, as much to herself as to Layla. “I don’t need a man in my life. I guess there are some things about it that are nice, but I’m not one of those women who needs a man to validate me.”

“The only upsides to relationships are always having someone to hang out with and always having someone to have sex with,” Layla said. “You’ve got me, and
you need a great vibrator. I have several.”

“Eww. I’m not taking a
used
vibrator, Layla.”

“I’m not offering one! They’re like dear old friends to me. We’ve been through a lot together. You’ll have to get your own.”

“Have you ever been in love?” Emma asked.

“I don’t think so. I’m not sure I ever will be, either. I’ll choose a husband based on the criteria from the list: attractive, with a great career, level-headed and fun. And obviously, we have to have great sex.” 

“Like you and Chad?” Emma asked with a small smile.

“God willing. That man is gifted in bed.”

“Or on couch,” Emma pointed out.

“Right. But he’s not very deep. Intelligence-wise, I mean. Sex-wise, he is
deep
. Like, sore the next day deep.”

“We should hang out
this weekend,” Emma said.

“Friday night. We need to get you cheered up. You’re young and hot, Emma. The world is your oyster, as Dad would say.”

Emma sighed, knowing that what would really cheer her up was to hear from Cole.

*****

The melodic, haunting voice of Eva Cassidy filled Emma’s apartment as she worked on a painting with Vincent curled up at her feet. It wasn’t her usual -- an abstract -- but a landscape, and it was just starting to come together after many hours of work.

Painting abstracts helped
channel her emotions, but she’d done plenty of that lately. She needed to remind herself what discipline could do – how it helped her focus on something outside her feelings. Painting landscapes did that for her. They required her total concentration.

She was considering giving this one, of an open field in the fall, to her parents for Christmas. They needed something
new above their mantel, and it would look perfect.