“You’re pushing your luck, Ms. Stevens.”
Resigned to his stubborn arrogance, I exit the office, pulling the door shut, and then claim my desk, immediately searching my Rolodex for Jessica’s number, and hitting that extension. “Jessica,” I say when she answers. “It’s Emily.”
“I was about to head in your direction for lunch.”
“I told you, I can’t go with you,” I say, and quickly change the subject, “but I have a question. Is there a drugstore that delivers nearby? It’s for Brandon Senior.”
“Not that delivers. What’s wrong with him?”
I open my mouth to reply when a gorgeous woman in a sleek black pantsuit breezes into my workspace, her long, brunette hair a shiny veil touching her shoulders. More than a little shocked that I wasn’t warned of her entry first, I quickly say, “I need to call you back,” to Jessica and replace the receiver on the cradle. “Can I help you?”
“Honey,” she purrs, stopping in front of me, and shifting her Chanel purse from one shoulder to the other, “if you’re sweetening my husband with that sweetness you ooze, you’ve already helped.”
My eyes go wide. “You’re—” I almost say Shane’s mother. “Mrs. Brandon.” And good grief, she looks too young to be Shane’s mother, her pale skin more porcelain than most twenty-year-olds.
“And you’re the newest target for my husband’s wrath.” She claims a chair in front of my desk and a bit to the left. “How are you handling him?”
“His wrath isn’t so bad,” I say. “Some of the people he does business with are fairly hateful, but I’m no delicate flower.”
“Has he threatened to fire you yet?”
Obviously this is a thing for him. “We just did that about five minutes ago.”
“And you’re not in the bathroom crying. I approve. If you’re still here in two weeks, I’ll take you to the spa to celebrate.” She stands up, and I turn in my chair to watch her walk to her husband’s door, open it, and walk right in. Oh God. Is she going to get me fired? Or … not? What does a man who brings his mistress to his son’s hotel expect of me where his wife is concerned? And officially, I’ve decided Shane’s family unit is as screwed up as mine.
“Lunchtime!”
At the sound of Jessica’s voice, I whirl around to find her hurrying toward me, her purse on her shoulder. “Snap, snap,” she commands. “Let’s head out.”
“I can’t go, Jessica. I told you that.”
She stops in front of my desk. “I talked to Shane. It’s fine.”
“No,” I say. “I appreciate it. I really do, but I’m not going.”
“He said—”
“It doesn’t matter what he said. It matters what he’ll think.”
“Wait in the lobby, Jessica.”
My lips part in shock at the sound of Shane’s voice and Jessica whirls around to face him, her body blocking my view. Blood rushes in my ears. Brandon Senior can’t rattle me but his youngest son can. I count three seconds and ten of my heartbeats, before Jessica steps aside to let Shane pass and heads for the lobby.
Shane is instantly in front of me, leaning forward, and his hands are on my desk, much like Derek did. But he’s not Derek, and this is nothing like that encounter. “Go to lunch with Jessica, Emily.”
“I’m not going.”
“You can trust her. The woman won’t break a promise, or your trust, not even to me. I want you to go.”
“Shane—”
“You can’t work here, or live in this city, without anyone. Okay?”
My chest tightens with the memory of him asking me that in the bathroom. “You’re sure?”
“I don’t say anything I’m not certain about.”
I am instantly reminded of him telling me that we’re good together, and I wonder if he questions that now. “I’ll go. Thank you.”
He doesn’t move. I don’t move and that something indescribable I felt in the bathroom, and the restaurant, and every time I’m near this man, is happening again. I can’t escape it. I don’t want to escape it and I wonder how I can work with him and how I can leave and never see him again. “Have a good lunch,” he says, pushing off the desk and disappearing around the corner, and I swear he takes all the air in the room with him.
My shoulders slump. How is it possible that my nipples are tight and aching? How can any man affect me this intensely? My mind goes back to the two men in my life, both extreme opposites, both had seemed right because they were so wrong, and turned out to be just wrong. And painful. But Shane is right and still wrong, and there seems to be nothing I can do about it.
“You ready?”
I glance up to find Jessica standing just this side of the hallway. Holding up a finger, I punch the intercom button. “I’m going to lunch with Jessica unless you need me to stay?”
“What I need is Mike Rogers.”
“I’ll keep trying him on my cell phone.”