Chapter Eighteen

Emma slammed her apartment door behind her just to have the satisfaction of listening to it bang. She threw her handbag across the living room and gave in to the urge to stomp her feet. “Ugh!” she shouted to the empty apartment. When her cell phone rang, she actually thought for a moment that Brant had gotten the silent message she had been sending him. Seeing her mother’s name on the caller ID, she knew there was no such luck.

“Hello, Mom.”

“Well, aren’t you just a ray of sunshine today, Emmie. What’s wrong?”

Emma wedged the phone between her shoulder and neck while pulling an old bottle of wine from the refrigerator. If she was going to be dumped for another woman and have to talk to her mother tonight, she might as well have some alcohol in her system. She popped the cork and sniffed the bottle as her mother continued to badger her. Shrugging her shoulders, she poured a glassful and downed half of it in one sip. When the line went silent, she knew she had missed answering a question. “What was that, Mom?”

“I asked how Brant was doing? Is he there now?”

“No,” Emma muttered. “He has a date.”

“Pardon?”

Rolling her eyes, Emma said, “I said he is working late.”

“Oh,” her mother laughed, “I thought you said something else. Honey, like I said, we just love him. He seems to adore everything about you. But my offer of a breast job is still on the table if you need it. It’s the best thing I ever did for myself.” Emma wondered idly if that included her marriage and motherhood, but she wasn’t brave enough to ask.

Deciding to change the subject, she asked, “How’s Boston doing? Is he on the chain gang yet?”

“Very funny; he is doing fine. Your uncle is confident that he can finish up some community service as long as he keeps out of trouble.”

“If that’s the case, maybe you should suggest he change his major? Something like computer science might be less encouraging to him than botany.”

Her mother gave a disgusted snort before saying, “Honey, I think you need some sleep. You seem grumpy. Do you have PMS?”

Emma rolled her eyes. Boston was the baby of the family and if he got busted for growing a pot farm in their parents’ bathroom, her mother would still defend him. Emma was starting to wonder if Boston was actually the slacker he pretended to be. Maybe it had served him well all of these years. Poor Boston, it’s just who he is. She was fast coming to the conclusion that poor Boston might be the smartest one in the family.

She had to laugh when her mother said that her friend Doris had asked about buying a dime bag from Boston strictly for medicinal purposes . . . yeah, right.

When she finally managed to end the call, she checked her messages to make sure she hadn’t missed one from either Brant or Suzy. She had left a few messages for Suzy during the day and had heard nothing back. That was really strange, considering that Jason and Gray also seemed to have been missing from work. Claire usually dropped in at some point during the day, but since Jason hadn’t been at the office, she hadn’t seen Claire either. She really missed Suzy’s encouragement and would have loved to share this latest development with her. She needed someone to tell her if she was wrong to be hurt that she had been excluded once again by Brant. First the business dinner when the others had been taking their wives, and now he was having some thank-you dinner with Alexia? He had made no mention of inviting Emma along. Was it silly that being excluded once again hurt her feelings?

Last night had been so amazing. It was the first time they had been free to really explore each other. Their first time together in the hotel in Miami had been fast and furious, and their other encounters at her parents’ house had been explosive but rushed. She had also held back to some degree for fear of being heard. Last night, though, had been something else entirely. The first time had been fast, but the second time had been a slow and gradual build of passion. They had made love, not just had sex, and for the first time, Emma knew the difference between the two. She had felt cherished afterward as she had lain in Brant’s arms listening to the steady beat of his heart. He had stroked her hair with one hand while the other hand had drawn lazy circles against her side. She had slept curled into his side, with his arm anchoring her.

The uptight man that she had sniped with for so long had turned out to be so much more than that. He still had his moments when glimpses of the old Brant showed through, but she knew the fires that raged beneath the calm surface. He took her breath away when he touched her. She didn’t want to drive him away by acting like a jealous girlfriend. He had been honest enough to tell her about Alexia staying with him and also about him having dinner with her tonight. She didn’t think he was hiding anything. The only thing that bothered her was not knowing if Alexia was hiding something. Emma was in love with Brant and last night had just confirmed it. If she needed to be patient to win him, then she would, but if she needed to fight, then Alexia Shaw had better watch out. You didn’t grow up as the daughter of Kat Davis without learning a thing or two.

Chapter Nineteen

Brant stumbled to the kitchen looking for the Tylenol bottle. Last night he had drunk entirely too much, which was unusual for him, especially during the week. Dinner with Alexia had started off so awkwardly that he had turned to alcohol to relax. Alexia had stuck to water, which was part of her postrehab treatment plan. By the end of the evening, he vaguely recalled that they had been joking around about old times. He suspected the Jack and Coke had something to do with that. Luckily, Alexia had driven them home afterward and other than a good-night kiss that made things uncomfortable for a brief moment, the evening had been fine. He had fallen into bed around midnight and he wasn’t sure, but he thought he might have had phone sex with Emma before he went to sleep. A quick look at his cell phone confirmed that he had called her. Well, at least she wasn’t likely to believe that he had been sleeping with Alexia while talking dirty to her. He shook his head in amazement—phone sex? What had happened to his perfectly ordered life? He couldn’t find it in himself to regret the change. Life was better than it had been in a long time.

He grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and downed it in one long guzzle. He tossed it in the trash can and grimaced as it popped back out and onto the floor. Shit. He’d never been one to have overflowing trash cans, but since Alexia had been staying with him, the condition of his house had gone downhill. She was a messy guest who didn’t do much cleaning up after herself. The trash bag had slipped into the can and he mumbled a string of profanities as he slid his hand down the side, trying to pull the plastic back up.