Found at the Jazz Club Page 8

  She assumed he meant more women like Tawny. Emily was never more aware of just how out of place she was here tonight. Skin flashed everywhere while her clothes completely covered her. She thought she’d been dressing appropriately, but glancing around the room proved her outfit would clothe at least five of these women.

  She’d stopped dressing for sex years ago, and there was no way she’d go out in New York in winter in so little clothing. But fifteen years ago, she would have looked just like every other female in here. Was that what he wanted? He hadn’t done anything to make her think so, but she glanced around the room. Dammit. This simply wasn’t her crowd anymore.

  “That’s very sweet of you to say,” she said with a tight smile. “The show was fantastic. You all have a great sound.”

  Daniel smiled. “Charming and discerning. I like her, Brady.”

  “So do I.” Brady wrapped an arm around her waist and squeezed, planting a kiss to her temple. Then Brady and Daniel began to talk music.

  Emily was aware of the uncomfortable vibes coming off Luke behind her. She wiggled out of Brady’s hold and turned to Luke. “Hey, is there any way we can leave Brady here and you can show to me to a restroom?”

  Relief flashed across his face as he nodded and said to Brady, “Hey, boss man, I’m going to take Em to the ladies’ room. We’ll be right back. Text me if you need me back earlier.”

  Brady glanced over at the two of them. “No problem. Take care of her.”

  Luke took her by the elbow and guided her out of the room. When the door closed on the noise behind them, she could suddenly hear herself think again in the quiet. She blew out a breath and leaned against the wall of the hall. “Wow, that’s so much better.”

  “You really don’t need a restroom, do you?”

  She bit her lip. “Um, no. Sorry?” She gave him a weak smile. “I figured we could use a break.”

  He shook his head, obviously seeing her excuse as what it was—a means of escape for him. “You’re good people, Emily Hodges. I hope Brady realizes.”

  “It goes both ways. So, why haven’t you told him that something happened between you and his cousin?”

  “He knows a little bit, just not all. He’s a good friend. Family is everything to him. I didn’t want to put him in a position where he’d have to choose. Daniel doesn’t want to be tied down. That’s not where he’s at in life. I shouldn’t have ever tried.”

  They looked so much alike. How much of the cousins’ attitudes were the same, too? “Is Daniel older or younger than Brady?”

  “Older by just a few months. They’ve always been close. So many people think they’re brothers or even twins. They’re a lot alike.”

  Those words sounded like a dire warning. Luke had paid emotionally for trying to tie down Daniel. She shouldn’t try the same with Brady.

  “Well, it’s a good thing we’re getting that annulment.”

  “Yeah.” Luke nodded, but he still seemed sad. Was he sad for her or him or the predicament of lovers worldwide who always managed to fall for the wrong guy? The story of her life.

  She hadn’t planned on it, but every day together the ties between them seemed stronger, more real. She really should end this before one or both of them got hurt.

  She wasn’t meant for Brady’s world. She knew that. This was all temporary.

  Chapter Eleven

  Brady awoke to the sound of Emily’s gasp. He sat up in bed and searched his bedroom for her.

  She crouched on the floor where they’d shed their clothes the night before, pulling at a piece of red lace peeking out of the pocket of his jeans. She rose with a pair of scanty, lace panties dangling off her fingernail.

  She grimaced and glanced away from him, looking more lost than angry.

  Dammit. He’d missed someone sliding those into his pocket last night. He threw his legs over the side of the bed. “It’s not what it looks like. Someone must have slid those into my pocket last night. I had no idea.”

  She dropped the disgusting panties. “It’s okay, Brady. We don’t have a commitment. Even if you fucked someone in a storage room last night, I couldn’t say anything.” She shrugged. “As long as you used protection... and I know you did with me, so it’s fine.”

  It might be okay with her, but it was not okay with him. And if some random guy had given her underwear, he would have been pummeling the jerk. He jumped out of bed and grabbed his jeans, slipping them over his legs. He really didn’t like the idea that it wouldn’t bother her at all if he fucked around. He sure as hell didn’t want her fucking anyone else.

  She turned her back on him and began throwing her clothes into her duffle bag. “Listen, I’ve been thinking. I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go to your family compound. I’ll get my own plane ticket to Denver, and you can just fly into Aspenridge. It’s been fun...” Her voice broke off with a choked sound.

  He grabbed her arm and pulled her into his arms. “Hey, no. I’m not okay with this.”

  Panic clawed at his gut at the resolution in her expression and the stubborn set to her mouth. This thing between them couldn’t be ending yet. He was supposed to have her in his bed for another week. He wasn’t ready to let her go.

  Not. Yet.

  She rested her hand high up on his shoulder, and his bare skin electrified under her touch.

  Her eyes widened, and she snatched her hand back like she’d felt that, too.

  He grabbed her hand to keep her from withdrawing farther. Negotiate with her. Charm her. He could do this. “Come on, Emily. I thought we had an agreement. My lawyer sent me an email yesterday. He said the annulment should be finalized right around New Year’s Eve. Until then, you’re my wife, my muse. I need you. I was counting on you. Please. Don’t let me down.”

  Her eyes shifted to the side, but he could tell she wanted to say yes.

  “One week, then you can go free and clear. No guilt. But Em, I was looking forward to spending the holidays with you. I even bought you an awesome gift. Don’t ruin my holiday. Please.”

  Her muscles loosened a tiny bit.

  He dropped to his knees in front of her and cocked an eyebrow. “I’m not above begging, and you know I do some of my best work on my knees in front of you.”

  She hesitated, but he could see the corners of her mouth twitching.

  In that moment, he thought his heart might actually break if she still said no.

  But then she laughed and blew out a big sigh. “How am I supposed to say no to that? You’re incorrigible.”

  He winked. “You like me that way.” He eyed her crotch hidden from view by her jeans. “And while I’m here...you did rush out of bed this morning without your morning ration of orgasms. Want me to fix that for you?”

  She threaded her fingers through the thick hair on his scalp with a nod. “If you’re offering.”

  He unfastened the jeans she’d already managed to put on and slid them down her legs, trying to ignore all the blood that surged back to his limbs with the relief. He’d been granted a short reprieve. He wouldn’t waste it.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next day, Brady followed Emily into her house in Denver, looking around in confusion. The three-story Victorian home was beautiful, but he couldn’t imagine Emily living in it. This house was the complete opposite style from her modern apartment in New York City.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked when she turned to him after they entered.

  “Nothing. It’s gorgeous.” He looked up at the twelve-foot ceilings and the large leaded glass windows in the living room. “How old is the house?”

  “It was built in 1893.”

  He nodded and glanced around curiously. A dark, heavy-wood staircase dominated the entryway. In fact, the dark wood looked like it dominated everything...the floors, ceilings, and paneling. Frankly, it felt a little depressing. Emily’s New York City apartment glowed with light. How could she stand living in this dark space?

  “I’ll give you a tour in a minute. But first
, let’s take our bags to my room. We have a few hours before we’re supposed to be at Mac’s house.”

  He followed her down a small hall on the first floor that led to a tiny room in the back corner of the house. When the house was first built, this room had probably belonged to a maid.

  Even though her choice of bedrooms confused him, he could at least see some of Emily in this room. The walls had been painted a light gray. The bed, while small, looked like an island of white between the cushy, white down comforter and the white wood headboard. Pillows in bright yellow and turquoise gave the room pops of color. At each side of the bed hung funky, white, modern lights. A small, gray reading chair sat in the corner of the room with a pile of books beside it.

  “I’m sorry. It’s small.” Emily glanced around the room like she was just now realizing that fact. “There are other bedrooms upstairs. You might feel more comfort—”

  He cut her off with a kiss. “It’s fine. The smaller space just means I’ll be closer to you. I won’t ever complain about that.”

  “Okay.” She nodded, not quite meeting his eyes.

  He wished he could read her mind. Things had been a little stilted with them all morning, but this seemed like it was something more. Somehow, him being here in her house made her uncomfortable. He just didn’t understand why.

  He sat his suitcase along the wall. “So, how about that tour?”

  She nodded, and he followed her out the bedroom.

  “The house is three stories.” She led him up the stairs. “We redid everything when we moved in, upgrading all the plumbing, electrical, and the bathrooms and kitchen.”

  Everything within him stilled. He’d worked hard not to consider her ex-husbands. The idea of Emily with someone other than him drove him nuts. It was better not to think about them, but now... “We? You lived here with your husband?”

  She nodded as she led him up the stairs to the third floor. “Yes, Trace. He gave me the house as a wedding gift.”

  “How long were you married?”

  She trailed her fingers along the railing. “Almost five years. You’ve probably seen him on the sidelines if you ever watch football. He’s one of the coaches for the Broncos.”

  “Wait. Trace Williams?”

  She nodded. “Yep.”

  Well, hell. He did know the name and the scandal from a few years before when he got one of the cheerleaders for the team pregnant. She’d only been nineteen, and he’d been married.

  Fuck.

  Emily had been the wife in that mess.

  Neither one of them said any more on the subject as she gave him the tour of the house. It consisted of seven bedrooms, three living areas, five bathrooms, a huge chef-worthy kitchen, and the only other room that had any of Emily’s thumbprints on it...her office.

  They stopped in the kitchen where she handed him a cold water bottle from the refrigerator.

  “Em, I don’t get it. Why are you living in this huge house?”

  She gave him a sad smile. “You sound like Mac.”

  “Who’s your best friend, which means I’m right. You’re basically living in the maid’s quarters and your office. There’s at least another four thousand square feet beyond that, and none of the rest of the house looks like your style. I just don’t understand. Why?”

  She blew out a breath. “How is it possible for you to know me so well already?” She shrugged as she looked unseeingly through the doorway leading out of the kitchen. “I don’t know. This house represented a lot of dreams. I’d been married twice before Trace, but neither of those marriages were ever going anywhere. It was different with him. We were going to make it. Live and die here, you know?”

  He nodded. The meaning behind her words killed him with jealousy that she’d felt about another man like that.

  “Trace wanted kids, a lot of them. I did, too. That’s what this house was for. It had plenty of space for us to grow as a family. I’d give birth to two or three kids, but we had plans to adopt, too. It was all so perfect, until I got pregnant the first time.”

  His stomach sank, and he was pretty sure he didn’t want to hear the rest of this story.

  She wasn’t looking at him anymore. Her hands clenched as she gripped the counter edge, every part of her stiff with tension. “I’d only been pregnant a few weeks when I lost the baby, but the doctors said it was nothing to worry about. That kind of thing happened. The next pregnancy would probably be fine.” She took a deep breath. “It wasn’t, and neither was the one after that.” A tear rolled down her cheek.

  He wanted to take her in his arms, but she seemed so brittle. She looked like she would shatter if he touched her.

  “I’d only been out of the hospital three days after the fourth pregnancy failed when the story about his girlfriend broke.” She frowned and then gave him a weak smile. “So, yeah, I’m not good with marriage. Me and a husband don’t mix. No offense.”

  She shook her head and grabbed her keys off a hook as she looked at the clock on the wall. “Listen, I forgot that I need to go pick up my dress for tonight’s party. Will you be okay here for thirty minutes or so?”

  She didn’t even look at him for his answer as she fled out of the house, slamming the door behind her. He was left alone in a huge, echoing house filled with the ghosts of Emily’s failed dreams.

  Well, fuck.

  EMILY DIDN’T COME BACK to the house until two hours later, and then they were under the gun to make it to her friend, Mac’s Christmas Eve party on time.

  Brady could tell she felt embarrassed over the emotion she’d exhibited earlier, but he wasn’t sure how to confront her. He wanted to get to know all of her...not just the nice and pretty parts.

  When the door to her bedroom opened, he rose from an uncomfortable wing chair and went out to the hall to meet her. She wore a deep blue, velvet dress that clung to her curves and ended high on her thighs. The sleeves were long, but a deep, plunging neckline with a sparkly, silver brooch at her cleavage kept the dress from being demure. She looked sexy as fuck with her long hair piled on top of her head. Blonde tendrils fell in swoops across her neck.

  “You look stunning. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay in tonight?”

  She laughed low, but sobered quickly. “I would think after my emotional diarrhea this afternoon, you would want out of this house and away from me as soon as possible.” Her gaze flickered with uncertainty.

  He wrapped her in his arms, something he’d wanted to do for hours. “Not even a possibility, Mrs. Gresham.” She stiffened at the use of her married name that she gained by marrying him, but he ignored it. “I only have you for a limited time. I don’t plan on wasting a single second of it. Besides, whatever happens between us, I care about you and hope we’ll always stay friends. That means I want to know all of you...the good and the bad.”

  And tonight would be different since these friends had been with her in Las Vegas. They all knew about their impromptu wedding, so for once, they didn’t have a thing to hide. They could attend the party as husband and wife, something that he was more excited about than he ever expected. The more time he spent with her, the more he was beginning to think he didn’t want this little arrangement of theirs to end. He liked having a wife. Who knew?

  A FLUTTER OF NERVES took flight in Brady’s stomach as he rang the doorbell of Mac and Tommy’s house. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her tighter to him. Would they like him? He’d met them at the bar in Vegas, but that had been such a non-event because they’d been focused on their party and the upcoming nuptials. He could probably pass any of them on the street and not recognize them now.

  A man opened the front door and swept Emily out of Brady’s arms and into a huge hug.

  “Mac!” Emily squealed. “I’ve missed you.”

  Brady ignored the frisson of jealousy that wound through his stomach as another man held his wife. Gray peppered his temples, and piercing blue eyes bore into Brady’s over Emily’s head.

  Brady stood up st
raighter with the knowledge that if her best friend didn’t like him, it might as well be a death knell on their relationship. As it was, he felt like he was barely holding onto her with his fingertips. He didn’t plan to lose any more ground with Emily tonight.

  Mac pulled back from her embrace and stared her down with displeasure. “Maybe if you hadn’t been ignoring my calls for the last week, you wouldn’t have missed me so much.” He reached a hand over to Brady. “Good to see you again. Brady, right? Merry Christmas.”

  “Yes, I’m guessing you’re Mac. Thank you for allowing me to crash your holiday party?” Brady shook his hand, but stayed focused on Emily as he waited for a response from her.

  She shrugged. “I’ve been busy.” She grabbed hold of Brady’s hand. “I did get married, you know?”

  “Yes,” Mac said slowly as he frowned between the two of them. “But I was under the impression that it was a temporary thing. Has that changed?”

  “No...” Emily’s discomfort was palpable.

  Brady decided to save her. “I’ve been hogging her time. I’ve found her to be an excellent muse.”

  “Oh, really?” Mac raised an eyebrow as he closed the door behind them and took their coats. After he hung them up, they followed Mac down the hall. “Is that code for lots of sex, or are you both working? I know you took a leave this month, Emily. Are you writing like you’d planned?”

  “Wait.” Brady pulled Emily to a stop. “You write?”

  She shook her head and rolled her eyes at Mac. “I used to dabble. Mac has it in his head that I have more talent than I do, and now he’s like a dog with a bone.”

  “Emily.” Mac sounded tired, like this was an old argument. “I’ve written dozens of bestsellers. I know when a story is good. Yours are good. You just let your dad get into your head and now think that they’re crap. That’s the furthest thing from the truth. He just told you that to try to keep you on the media side of the business. You know this.”

  Any jealousy Brady felt over Mac’s closeness to Emily was ridiculous. They acted like siblings. Instead of worrying about their bickering, he considered Emily as an author. He could see it.