Her eyes sparkled and she gave me a huge smile, both of us completely oblivious to the anger brewing across the way from us.
“You got to be fucking kidding me,” Tyler said as he leaned forward and glared at me. “We don’t have time for that crap. This is way more important than taking your current squeeze out.”
My head turned slowly toward Tyler, and he shrank back from the thunderous look on my face. I literally felt Emma almost shrink inward over being referred to as my “current squeeze”. My voice was low and hard, but well controlled when I said, “I’m going to assume that the three vodka tonics you had at lunch is what’s responsible for what you just said, but in case it’s not, and it’s just because you’re an asshole, I’m warning you… you better back the fuck off where she’s concerned.”
Yeah… the limo ride was uncomfortable after that. Emma wasn’t sitting that close to me, but she scooted even further away to look out the window as we drove down Sunset Boulevard. Tyler didn’t apologize but he didn’t say anything else, settling down into a sulk.
And I sat there and fumed over his behavior, disgusted with how badly he wanted this deal with Phoenix. It appalled me and frankly, it hurt, because he knows damn well it’s not in line with what I want as an artist. But he’s letting money take over his reasoning and that’s become more important to him than my happiness. I imagine that might happen with a lot of managers or agents, but it fucking grates since Tyler’s my friend first and foremost.
Or at least I thought.
I hear the bathroom door open, and Emma appears from the short hallway that separates the living area of the suite from the master bedroom. Just the sight of her and I let all of those nasty feelings go, deciding there’s no room for that shit tonight.
Tonight, it’s about that woman right there.
I push up from the couch and walk to her. She stands there nervously chewing on her lip as I approach, and while she’s definitely come out of her shell a lot, I still dig that part of her that’s still a bit repressed and unsure.
Taking her hands, I do a slow perusal down her body. She’s wearing a simple black, sleeveless dress that’s cut low in the front and even lower in the back. It hugs her body, comes just above her knees, and she’s paired it with those same strappy sandals I made her keep on her feet that first time we fucked on that glass table. They’re kind of sentimental to me now.
“You look amazing,” I tell her when my eyes come back up to meet hers.
And she’s just Emma.
She blushes and drops her gaze.
My hand goes to her chin, raises it up so she looks at me, and I ask her, “You have no idea, do you?”
“About what?” she whispers.
“How beautiful you are?”
“I’m not—”
“So fucking beautiful,” I cut her off. “So goddamn sexy, and you haven’t a fucking clue, which makes you all the more sexy and beautiful. You don’t need makeup or fancy clothes. You just have this thing going on that makes your type of beauty absolutely untouchable.
“Evan—” she breathes out shakily in almost an admonishing tone that I’d pay her such compliments.
So I kiss her to shut off whatever self-deprecating remark she was getting ready to make. I kiss her long enough and slow enough that she forgets whatever she was about to say to me.
?
“You know, this is the first date I’ve been on in a really, really long time,” I tell Emma as I push the dessert plate way from me. I’m fucking stuffed and mellow.
She grins at me as she toys with her crème br?lée. “That’s because you’ve been only doing anonymous one-night stands, right?”
I laugh, because she’s silly, but then tell her, “Emma… just because that was my lifestyle doesn’t mean it was the one I wanted. It’s hard to find a connection with someone when you’re in this business. Everyone wants something from you, and it’s hard to find genuine people. So sometimes, it’s just easier to put that barrier up and not try to get to know someone.”
“Sounds lonely,” she observes.
“Hasn’t felt that way the last few weeks.”
She blushes.
So Emma.
Her gaze drops to her dessert again, and she plays around with punching the end of her spoon through the caramelized crust. Without looking back up at me, she says, “This thing between us… I’m not sure I understand it.”
“What do you mean?”
With a sigh, she puts her spoon down and looks across the table at me. “This is just weird. I mean… you’re this famous rock star, and I’m this nobody little attorney who really doesn’t know what she’s doing half the time, and honestly, Evan… there is just no reason you should be interested in someone like me. You need like a super model or something on your arm.”