Emmy And The Boss. Penny McCusker
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slipping by him and walking over to check out her briefcase. She didn’t know what Stella had hoped to find, but there were no big secrets in there, no clandestine meetings, no international spying. No secret plans outlining her designs on Nick. Just the file containing the progress report, lying half on top of her day planner, which was still open to that day, work at Nick’s, dinner with Lindy.
“What were you going to say?” Nick asked, coming over to join her and craning his neck to see over her shoulder.
Emmy snapped her day planner shut. “Nothing I haven’t said before, and you didn’t listen any of the other times.”
“I listened. I didn’t believe you.”
And in case she didn’t get the message, he was crowding her again. Emmy refused to back off. She was a mess of physical and emotional agitation, the scant inch of air between them was scorching with heat and humming with tension, but retreat would be the same as admitting he was getting to her, and that would be as good as telling him he was right to keep pushing.
“If you really want me to give up, I will,” Nick said.
Emmy handed him her progress report, shut her briefcase and headed for the big door that led out to the parking lot and her getaway vehicle.
“Fine, just walk away,” Nick snapped at her.
Emmy couldn’t resist a look over her shoulder. Yep, Nick was angry. He was frustrated too, and there was something else on his face. It took her a moment to recognize it as determination, and that was new for him—well, not new, but she’d bet it was pretty damn rare.
Chapter Five
Men were slime, Emmy thought. And for once she wasn’t thinking about Roger. Or Nick.
She was sitting in a crowded restaurant in the Leather District, a conglomeration of old leather factories that had been turned into businesses, lofts, restaurants and any other trendy, touristy use that could be found for them. Emmy would have preferred neighboring Chinatown, less fashionable but more relaxing. But here she sat at her best friend’s insistence, nursing a cranberry martini, avoiding eye contact, waiting for Lindy to arrive. The prevailing demographic of the place seemed to be men, ranging in age from barely legal to one-foot-in-the-grave. She’d always considered men another species anyway; tonight she’d classify them as homo erectus rather than homo sapiens. That brought a smile to her face, and she had to drop her eyes to her drink before any of the Neanderthals took it as encouragement.
What was it with men anyway? When you wanted one to stick around, he left, and when you wanted one gone, you couldn’t get rid of him. She looked around. And when you swore off men in general, they all seemed hell-bent to change your mind. Hopefully Lindy would show up soon. Or she could just leave, and the more she thought about it, the more appealing that sounded. She signaled the waiter, dug her cell phone out of her purse and speed-dialed Lindy, keeping a wary eye on the mood of the crowd in case any of these guys suspected she was about to bolt and worked up the courage to do more than ogle.
“I’m not really up for dinner tonight,” she said when Lindy picked up.
“Uh-oh, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m not hungry, and the only reason we were having dinner anyway is so I’d have an excuse for Nick.”
“And here I thought it was my sparkling wit and sunny personality.”
“You know what I mean, Lindy.” They’d been out every night that week just in case Nick fell off the wagon and showed up at her house. “I appreciate you putting up with me all week, but I’m sure you have things to do. Or should I say men?”
Lindy snorted softly. “The only briefs in my life lately have been the legal kind, but you have been kind of cranky the last few days. Tonight you just sound depressed. Wouldn’t be because of Nick, would it?”
“Nick isn’t bothering me anymore.”
“Yes, he is. Maybe not in the way you expected, but he’s bothering you.”
Emmy sighed.
“See? Case closed.”
“Okay, so he’s bothering me. He’s not going to be the only one in a minute.” Emmy had accidentally made eye contact with one of the cavemen and there was a definite shift in the mood of the crowd. If she didn’t do something drastic…
Lindy walked in, took one look at Emmy’s face and said, “if you kill me, who will represent you at the murder trial?”
“Actually I was thinking about giving you a big, wet kiss.”
Lindy did a double take, then looked around, rolling her eyes as she took her seat. “If you’re trying to put these hounds off with a little girl-on-girl action, think again,” she said, shutting off her phone and dropping it into her purse. “You and your tongue come anywhere near me and we won’t be able to beat them off with a stick. And what am I saying? I’ve been trying to attract a little male attention.”
Emmy disconnected and put her phone away, too. “Is that why you picked this meat market?”
“Of course. You may have taken yourself out of the game, but I haven’t. And speaking of games, what’s the deal with Nick?”
“I don’t want to talk about him.” Emmy opened the menu and pretended she had an appetite. “You’re just going to argue with me.”
“Fine, let’s talk about Roger. We agree about him.”
Emmy looked up, caught Lindy smirking. “He called today. How did you know?”
“It was only a matter of time, Emmy. He wanted you back didn’t he?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t return his call.”
“Good, don’t. And since we’re through with Roger, we can get back to Nick.”
Emmy sighed again before she could catch herself. “I’m just tired,” she said before Lindy could put the look on her face into words. “It’s been a long week.”
“You’re not tired, you’re lonely. I’m not the solution to that problem, Em, but I’m here so you’re stuck with me…Hello.”
Emmy shifted in her seat so she could take in Lindy’s field of vision. The busboy was heading for them, or rather for the circular booth next to their table. He bent to retrieve dishes and clean the tabletop, giving Lindy an up-close-and-personal shot of his really excellent backside. And she was enjoying it.
“He’s about twelve,” Emmy whispered behind her menu.
“He’s at least twenty.”
“And you’re not really interested in him.”
Lindy shrugged. “I can look can’t I? It’s never good to take life too seriously. I learned that the hard way—and you’re changing the subject.”
“You changed it first.”
Lindy waved that off, which was just like her—now. She’d been nose-to-the-grindstone in college, all work and no play, until she’d broken under the weight of her own expectations. She’d had to go away for a while, to learn how to depressurize her life. Now she worked when it was time to work, and had fun everywhere else.
To those who didn’t know Lindy, she’d seem like one of the most well-adjusted people in the world. The breakdown had left permanent damage, though. Lindy figured if she was such a perfectionist that she got that messed up over her career she’d better not risk love, let alone marriage and family. So, she’d become a serial dater, never hanging on to a relationship long enough to let it get serious. Emmy was one of the few who saw through her act, to the sadness and loneliness beneath.
“We were talking about Nick,” Lindy reminded her.
“We were talking about me,” Emmy said, because Lindy wouldn’t thank her for turning