Emma laid her phone down in the passenger seat while she beat her head against the steering wheel. When would she learn to use her voice mail more and answer her phone less? Taking a deep breath, she picked the phone back up, saying, “Good grief, Mom, I don’t want you getting me ‘in’ with anyone. I can find my own date and, for the record, David bats for the other team. He isn’t between girlfriends; he has never had a date who didn’t have a penis!”

But if Emma had thought she would shock her mom into silence, she should have known better. “Em, I know that. I think he swings both ways, though. Even if you can’t talk him into bed, he would probably still escort you.”

“Mom, I don’t need a date!” Emma could blame the next words out of her mouth only on her mother’s continued insistence on fixing her up with David Hogan. “I already have a date!” Of course it turned out that would be the one thing her mother chose to hear since the start of the phone call.

“You have a date? Who is it?”

“It’s no one you know, Mom. Just a guy I’ve been out with a few times.”

“Honey, that’s great. I don’t know why you haven’t mentioned him, but I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, right? I’ll have your room all ready. You know your father and I aren’t prudes, so he can share your room. Never let it be said that I cock-blocked my daughter. I’ll give Cindy a call and let her know we won’t be needing David after all.”

“God, Mom, women your age shouldn’t talk like that!”

Her mother laughed. “I admit I’ve picked up a few things from my new book club.”

“Geez, what kind of book club is it, porn?”

“We call ourselves the Smut-Loving Wenches,” her mother replied proudly.

As far as Emma was concerned, that explained a lot of her mother’s new vocabulary. She could just imagine what those meetings were like. She only hoped she’d never meet any of the other members. “What does Daddy say about your club?”

“Pffft, you know he doesn’t care about stuff like that. He does enjoy the new . . . ideas it gives me, though.” Just as she was prepared to disconnect the call for fear of hearing what those ideas were, her mother made a smooching sound and said, “Kiss, kiss, darling. I’ve got to go. We’ll talk soon.”

Emma’s head was spinning. Had her mother just promised not to cock-block her? Had she really said that she had a date she was bringing home for her reunion? Her life was starting to resemble an episode of Jersey Shore. Now she had to figure out how to find a date willing to travel to Florida with her—and she had less than a month to do it. If she didn’t show up with a man in tow, her mother would have David Hogan at the house in the blink of an eye.

She thought briefly of calling her sister, Robyn, and begging for help, but she knew how that would go. There was no way in hell that Robyn would divert their mother’s attention onto her. She discounted her brother as well as soon as she thought of him. He played their mother like a fiddle. He was the baby boy and had learned long ago to stay in Mom’s good graces. There would be no help from that side either. She was well and truly screwed.

Chapter Four

Emma flopped back in her chair. She just couldn’t do it. No matter how desperate she was, an escort service was out. She would have to go home with no boyfriend and put up with her mother’s matchmaking. Sure, it was likely to be embarrassing and uncomfortable, but what family visit wasn’t? She could live with being fixed up with David, but having to admit to her mother that she had lied about the boyfriend was going to be hell. There were bound to be more talks about her sexual technique and what she was doing wrong. And what if her mother invited some of her new book club friends over to give her some advice on finding and keeping a man? Emma shuddered at the thought.

“Problem?”

She jerked around to see Brant sitting on the edge of her desk looking at her with equal parts amusement and curiosity. “Yeah, you could say that. I need a date for my high school reunion.”

Brant tried unsuccessfully to cover the smirk on his face. “I can’t imagine why that would be a problem. You’re such a . . . joy to be around.”

She had no idea where it came from, but the words were out of her mouth before she could take them back. “I’m glad you feel that way, because I’m going to need you to fill in for me. There are no available men in my life right now.”

It was fairly amusing to see her normally standoffish boss floundering around, clearly at a loss. “Wh-what?”

Before she could reply, Declan Stone walked in for his three o’clock appointment with his brother. Emma stood, giving both men a bright smile. She ushered him into his brother’s office and then had to give Brant a little shove to get him moving. She knew this was not an ideal place to have this conversation, but she was also aware that Brant wouldn’t let it go, which was fine with her. She stopped him before he crossed the threshold and said, “Let’s meet at the bar around the corner at six.” Without waiting for an answer, she shut the door softly and took her seat.

The more she thought of her plan, the better it sounded. Sure, Brant was a pain in her ass, but better the pain you know, right? And what he didn’t know was that she had an ace in the hole that pretty much assured her that he wouldn’t say no. Well, unless Mr. December wanted Christmas to come early to Danvers.

Brant had no idea why he was setting off to meet with Emma. He had no intention of going anywhere with her socially, much less as a date to her reunion. Was she crazy? It wouldn’t take people long to pick up on the lack of love or affection between them. They couldn’t even have a simple conversation without insulting each other. Regardless of what she said, he didn’t doubt for a minute that Emma could find a date if she wanted to. She was a very attractive woman—much to his discomfort at times. Luckily, on the occasions when he found himself admiring her, she invariably opened her mouth and the moment was gone. But the hard-on remained for a while.

He walked into the bar and quickly scanned the room. There was no sign of Emma. What a shock. He strongly suspected she stood out in the hallway at work in the mornings just because she knew it irritated him for her to arrive late. He walked over to an empty table in the corner and smiled as the busty blond waitress approached to take his order. “Hey, sugar, whatcha having tonight?”

“I’ll have a Heineken, thanks.” He saw the name Daisy on her name tag when she returned with his beer. Yeah, okay, he ogled her tits. He had never claimed to be a saint. He was just pondering striking up a conversation with her when a familiar, irritating voice sounded over his shoulder.