Being surrounded by so much pink made it impossible to put the morning out of his mind because every flower made him think of a ten-year-old Emma wanting to marry a guy wearing a pink shirt.
That thought invariably led to thoughts of a very grown-up Emma sliding between the sheets, her long leg brushing against his thigh and making him think all kinds of naughty things. Luckily, the steamy thoughts of pulling her body, still warm from sleeping, up against his had fled when her grandmother walked into the room. Residual desire had remained though, even while they went on about that stupid box, so it was a damn good thing Emma had jumped out of bed to shut off her alarm.
The whole thing seemed wrong to him somehow, though, the more he thought about it. Cat didn’t seem like the kind of woman to work herself into such a tizzy over finding a box she had to burst in on them before they were out of bed. Excitement at the breakfast table, sure, but she’d been too respectful of their fake need for privacy for it to make any sense.
“I think Cat’s on to us.”
Emma sat back on her heels and brushed dirt off her gloves. “What makes you think that?”
“Just a feeling.” He couldn’t really explain it. “The way she watches us sometimes. And coming into our room at twenty after six? That didn’t seem suspicious to you?”
“She was excited.” But that excuse was weak and she knew it. “Gram would say something if she thought I was lying to her.”
“Maybe not. Maybe she wants to figure out what we’re up to.”
She seemed to consider it for a moment, then she shook her head. “I don’t think she could keep quiet about it. But, just in case she’s suspicious, we’ll have to step it up.”
Step it up? If they stepped it up any more, his balls were going to explode. “What do you mean by that, exactly?”
“I don’t know. Maybe…more touching or something?”
“No.” He hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but he meant it. He couldn’t take any more touching. “I mean, I don’t think that’s the problem.”
Actually, touching was exactly the problem, but not in the way she was thinking. He was horny, plain and simple, and the constant touching and looking and pretending was killing him. Slowly and seemingly without end.
The nights were the worst. Emma was a restless sleeper and he was a light sleeper and the combination made for a constant state of low-grade sleep deprivation. The sight of her dark curls spread across her pillow and her long legs kicked free of the blanket made for a constant state of high-grade lust.
“What do you think is the problem, then?”
He shook his head. “Forget it. Probably just my imagination.”
When she pushed herself to her feet and stretched, he tried not to watch, but he couldn’t look away. He knew being bent over the garden was hell on the muscles, but the way she put her hands to the back of her waist and arched her back—which pushed out her breasts—was hell on his self-control.
“How come you didn’t tell me about your aunt and uncle’s big holiday bash?”
“Because you’re just going to worry about it and stress and it’s only Monday. I thought I’d wait until Friday to bring it up.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Have you talked to Cat about the house yet?”
She shook her head. “I keep hoping she’ll bring it up, but she hasn’t. And it never seems like the right time.”
“If you let her go back to Florida without selling you the house, this was all for nothing, you know.”
“Yes, I know,” she snapped. “I know it doesn’t seem that way, but I don’t like lying to my grandmother this way and now that the time has come, I’m finding it hard to bring up the house.”
His phone rang and he pulled it out of his pocket to look at the caller ID window. “Shit.”
“Who is it?”
“My sister. Sorry, I have to take it or she’ll keep calling back.” He flipped open the phone as he put a little space between him and Emma. “Hi, Liz.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“I miss you, too.”
“Tell me Mitch is full of shit.”
“He usually is.”
Her sigh practically vibrated his phone. “Are you living with some woman you just met and pretending to be her fiancé?”
“Yup.”
“Does that seem normal to you?”
“I never claimed it was normal. It’s pretty crazy, actually, but we’re making it work.” More or less. Other than an unexpected case of blue balls, it was going better than he would have guessed it would.
“And Aunt Mary’s going along with this?”
“Reluctantly, but yes.”
“I can’t make it, but Mitch is going to be there for the Fourth. If he tells me he thinks this woman’s up to no good, I’m going to sic Rosie on you.”
“Nobody’s up to no good, Liz, and we’re not hurting anybody. I promise.”
“We’ll see what Mitch has to say.” He heard a voice in the background and what sounded like a door slamming. “I have to run. I’ll call you next week, after I talk to Mitch.”
“Thanks for the warning,” he said, but she’d already hung up.
He shoved his phone back in his pocket and smiled at Emma. “She sends her regards.”