What The Heart Knows (4 page)

What
the hell was that all about?

She
got up and poured herself a cup of coffee, adding a bit of cream and
trying to ignore the absurd amount of flirting going on across the
room from her. Not that there was anything wrong with that. Hell, she
was happy for Meggie. She could use a fun little fling. Even if it
was with Mr. Fancypants.

“Miss.
Brennan,” James' voice broke through her foggy brain.

“What?”
she asked, shaking her head and sipping her coffee. “Hey,”
she said, waving a hand at James who was eating one of her brownies.
“those are mine.”

“I
owe you a shot,” he said, shrugging a shoulder. “So are
you gonna show me the grounds?”

“Fine,”
Emily grumbled, clinging to her coffee cup like a lifeline.

“Meggie,”
he called as Emily led him out of the back door. “it was a
pleasure.”

Once
outside, Emily started her speech. “There are walking trails
through the woods. Riding trails too. All of them are marked by
certain colored ribbons.”

“You
seem... different,” James said, looking at her suddenly slumped
shoulders. Her voice had lost some of its enthusiasm.

Emily
ignored the comment. “Here are the stables,” she said,
pulling open the breezeway doors. “Alec is available from nine
until six to give private riding lessons. Or to saddle up a horse for
you to take on the trails.” She walked over and pet one of the
horses faces. “This is Lila. She's new. And she hates men.
Which makes her all the more awesome.”

James
smiled, watching her fawn over the tan mare. He walked up behind
Emily, reaching past her and stroking the side of Lila's face. “She
seems to like me well enough.”

Oh
my god. Was there no female of any species who could resist him?
“Traitor,” she said to the horse, trying to step away.
But James' body blocked her on one side and the stall blocked her on
the other. If she shifted at all, she would be touching him
somewhere.

“Okay,”
she said. “time for some professional distance there,
Casanova.”

He
turned his face slightly, looking down at the freckles on her nose.
“What's the matter? Afraid you're not going to be able to
control yourself?”

“Oh
please,” Emily said, pushing backward and slamming into him. “I
don't need any self control around you.”

He
wanted to take her right then and there. With her stubborn chin and
hostile arms across her chest, coffee cup and all.

“So
what is next?” he asked, taking a big step back.

“Luckily,”
Emily said, taking a deep breath. “that is everything.”

“What
about showing me around one of these trails?”

“Take
Lila,” Emily said, moving toward the door. “she likes you
better.”

“Oh,
Miss. Brennan,” he said at her retreating form. “you like
me just fine.”

He
wanted to fight with her, he realized with a start. That was never
his style. He preferred the charm them out of their socks (and every
other article of clothing) method. It worked every time. And maybe it
would work on Emily too. But he didn't want to charm her. He wanted
to argue with her. He wanted to watch her light eyes squint at him
and see her bite into her lip to keep herself from saying something
she really wanted to say. He wanted to push her buttons until she
could finally see that it was her attraction to him that made her
hate him so much.

She
was going to try to find any way she could to avoid him. And he was
planning on doing everything in his power to make sure she couldn't
get away from him.

Maybe
there was some fun to be found in this silly little backwoods town
after all.

Four

Emily
went to bed early and somehow managed to sleep in late. She jumped
out of bed, cursing James Michaels seven ways to Sunday, completely
convinced he was the reason she was feeling so off. She took a quick
shower, pulling her wet hair into a ponytail and went to her dresser
for another round of: what is a professional inn manager supposed to
wear?

Eventually
she settled on a pair of dark wash skinny jeans and a white long
sleeved t-shirt. It would just have to do.

She
rushed into the kitchen, already finding it bustling with activity.
Meggie was flipping french toast on the griddle, the other cooks
running around filling various orders. Servers rushed in and out
fetching drinks and food. Emily walked over to the coffee machine,
pouring her soup cup portion and drinking it greedily.

“Are
you feeling alright?” Meggie asked, looking over her shoulder.
“I've never seen you get up this late.”

“I
dunno. Just feeling a bit run down,” Emily said. “Was
Lena here already?”

Meggie
laughed. “Hours ago,” she said, pointing over to the
counter. “she brought apple tarts.”

“She's
an angel,” Emily groaned, going over to grab one. They had
gotten along pretty well after the whole corporate espionage issue a
few months before. Probably because she was such a phenomenal baker.
And Emily had a huge appreciation for sweet things.

“What
the hell, woman?” Devon asked, coming into the kitchen, brows
furrowed. “You sick?”

“Okay,
I get it,” Emily said, rolling her eyes and making her way to
the dining room. “I'll never ever be late again.”

She
loved the dining room when it was busy. The noise. The collective
energy. People talking over others, calling across tables. Waiters
taking orders. The strong smell of syrup and coffee.

Emily
glanced over to a table in the corner, looking down at Maude with a
pointed stare. “Don't go blamin' me for your tardiness,”
she said, not bothering to look up.

“Not
a morning person, huh?” James' voice said to her side, making
her jump slightly and spill coffee down her hand.

“Damn
it,” she said, shaking her hand. How had she not noticed him
sitting there? She turned, finding him looking perfectly rested. His
hair was a little windblown looking. He was wearing jeans with a gray
band t-shirt with a charcoal gray blazer on top. Maybe she didn't
have to worry so much about her wardrobe if this was how he thought
professionals dressed. “I'm always up before everyone else,”
she said, knowing it was true. Even if it wasn't true of that
morning. “I had some things to catch up on,” she added,
choosing not to tell him that it was sleep.

“Join
me,” he said, watching her posture get straighter and
straighter as she looked at him.

“No,”
she said, too quickly. “No,” she added, her tone a little
softer. “I should go check on the front desk.”

“Devon
has it handled,” he said, waving to the seat across from him.
He wasn't going to take no for an answer.

Emily
sat down. “If by 'handled' you mean he's playing on his
phone...” she added.

“That's
exactly what I meant,” James smiled. He picked up his menu. “So
what is good here?”

“Everything.
Meggie has hired a great staff.”

James
nodded. “What did you have?”

“An
apple tart,” she said, wishing she could go grab another.

“Hmm,”
James said, shrugging and putting down the menu.

“Are
you gonna have one?”

“No,”
he winked. “I'm sweet enough already.”

Emily
rolled her eyes, throwing her arm with her coffee cup out to the side
to block the aisle as a waiter tried to pass. “Fill it,”
she said, looking up at the young male waiter.

He
lowered his brows at her, filled her cup with the pot he was walking
around with, and said, “Now get the hell out of my way.”

Emily
laughed, shaking her head.

“He
seems... pleasant,” James said, brow raised.

“Your
brother loved him when he was here.”

“Of
course he did,” James nodded. He was just the kind of server
Elliott would appreciate. Cold, efficient, completely unconcerned
with pleasantries.

Emily
watched in frustrated silence as James ordered his food and put sugar
in his coffee. She had a million things she needed to get done and he
was making her keep him company while he ate breakfast.

“So,”
James said, producing one of the pamphlets from the front desk. “you
are going to take me out and show me the town today.”

“Yes,
master,” she drawled, her fingers tapping on the tabletop.

“Come
on, you know you'd rather be out enjoying the fall weather than
cooped up collecting plates and fluffing pillows.”

“Sure,”
she said. “just not with you.”

“Awe,”
he said, lounging backward, a hand to his chest. “my poor ego.”

Emily
stood up as his food arrived. “Your ego could use to be taken
down a few notches. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to try to fit an
entire day of work into the next half an hour.”

She
tore into reception, pushing Devon out of the way and taking the
faxes out of the machine.

“You're
in a mood,” Devon said, looking up from his phone.

“He
wants me to be his tour guide to the friggen town all day. Like I
don't have anything else I need to do with my time.”

“There
really isn't anything to do today. Everyone is going to be getting
ready for Halloween. And we only have two other guests right now...”

“There's
always work to be done,” she countered, opening the mail.

“No,”
Devon said, smiling. “there is always work you
find
to do. And then redo. And then do again because you cant sit still
for five minutes.”

“Why
don't you take him?” she asked, tossing papers into the
shredding pile.

“Because
I asked you to take me,” James said, enjoying the look of
horror on her face because she was caught with her foot in her mouth.
Again.

“How
did you eat your food that quickly?” Emily asked, reaching for
the lightweight short brown leather coat underneath the desk and
slipping it on. “Do you unhinge your jaw or something?”

“Right,”
James smiled, watching her grab a wallet and slip it into her jacket
pocket. “because I'm a snake.”

Emily
smiled as she walked past him. “Ready for your tour, Mr.
Fancypants?” she asked, already walking out onto the porch.
There really wasn't much in the immediate town to see. A few stores
to look through. Nothing grand. Everything event-wise happened on the
farms surrounding town. But he didn't know that and she certainly
wasn't going to tell him. So the tour could be over in an hour or two
if he didn't dawdle.

They
walked down the street, Emily keeping her eyes stubbornly ahead. “Are
you always this quiet,” James started. “or are you just
struck dumb by how attractive I am? Don't be embarrassed,” he
went on, smiling as she fought to not laugh. “it's happened
before... it will happen again. Another couple years and I am gonna
have that silver fox thing going for me and then I'll be absolutely
irresistible.”

He
was pretty damn irresistible as it was. She was having to work to
remember why she was so
angry
at him. He was trying to steal her inn from her. Hell, he already
had. He was in charge. And she was just being forced to lose a day of
work to accompany him on some asinine whim. Like he couldn't walk in
and out of stores by himself.

“No,”
she said finally.

“No
what?” he asked, holding the door of the grocery store open.

“No
I'm not struck dumb by your attractiveness,” she said, looking
up at him with a smirk. “Get over yourself. And, no, I am not
usually quiet.”

“Just
determined to hate me then,” he mused, looking over a corkboard
of local events right inside the doors. “Don't worry... I'll
wear you down. Oh,” he said, pointing toward a flier. “let's
go pumpkin picking.”

“Seriously?”
Emily asked, brows raised.

“Yep,”
he said, reaching over and grabbing her hand. “I'll drive.”

She
tried to ignore his hand on hers. She really did. And she certainly
wasn't going to lace her fingers through his, no matter how strong an
urge she had to do so. He pulled her along the street, back toward
the inn. His car was a late model, silver, sleek, and expensive. Of
course. He walked her toward the passenger side, opening the door and
letting her slide in.