Damn him.
“I’m not answering your question,” she breathed out.
Their eyes seductively bored into each other like two charging bulls relentlessly ramming against a cage.
"You don’t like answering questions," he stated through gritted teeth, trying to fight his urge of dragging her clear across the table and into his arms. He could’ve devoured every inch of her body right there. Like a tornado ripping through anything in its path, her presence alone was pulling him into her.
Damn her.
“No, Gavin, I don’t like answering your questions,” she quickly whispered. “And it looks like I don’t have to because your void-filler is walking this way.”
Gavin’s pupils lost her gaze and dilated with awareness of what she said. Casually leaning back in his seat, he plastered a fake smile across his face as Natasha approached the table.
Before taking her seat, she leaned down and pulled him in for a kiss. Emily was foolish not to peel her eyes away from their open-mouth exchange. She felt a nauseated pang deep in the pit of her stomach at the sight of Gavin sliding his hot tongue over Natasha’s mouth. She didn’t know why she was having such feelings, but in that moment watching them, she felt pissed, and she knew she had no right to. When the kissing skit finally ended, Gavin’s blue eyes flitted over to Emily; his gaze was unsteady with a strong hint of something akin to an apology shimmering behind them.
One corner of Natasha’s mouth tipped in a satisfied smile before she took her seat next to him. “Sorry I took so long. Like, I had to totally empty out my purse to find my lipstick.”
Emily drew in a long breath and almost jumped up when she felt a large hand squeezing her shoulder gently. She turned around, and it was Dillon. Meeting his gaze, she tried to get her heart to slow from its frantic shock of the conversation that had just ended.
The waiter eventually brought their food. Heated glances exchanged between her and Gavin for the remainder of the meal kept Emily’s hands nervously dancing with her silverware.
After being forced to endure an hour of mind-fucking conversation regarding Dillon’s concern over Gavin’s stock portfolio choices, Emily was elated when the couples finally retreated to Dillon’s car, putting an end to the afternoon that had left her stomach in knots. She was practically silent during their drive across the city to drop off Gavin and Natasha at his place, but if Dillon noticed her sudden change in demeanor, he didn’t comment. When they arrived at Gavin’s high-rise, Emily claimed she wasn’t feeling well, grasping for any excuse to stay in the car while Dillon walked them up to the entrance. He politely kissed Natasha’s cheek and bade his farewell to Gavin with a firm shake of his hand. While Dillon was heading back to the car, Emily’s eyes were magnetically drawn to Gavin, who was holding the door open for Natasha as she sauntered into the lobby flipping her hair. Before he followed Natasha into the building, Gavin turned around with both of his hands buried in his front pockets and threw Emily one last longing, piercing stare that would stay burned into her memory for the rest of the afternoon.
Dillon lounged into his seat and smiled. “Ready for some Fifth Avenue shopping?”
Although feeling like she had just escaped from a psychiatric ward, Emily plastered one of her own fake smiles on her face and nodded to Dillon. “Yes, let’s get out of here.”
Chapter Nine
Home Run
The mid-morning air in Central Park was mild but cooler than usual for the second week of August. Emily spread a small sheet under one of the maple trees that provided shade from the vibrant brightness of the sun. Placing her backpack beside her, she took out its contents, which consisted of two sandwiches, a couple of bottles of water, and her favorite novel, Wuthering Heights. All she needed now was Dillon. When she glanced at her watch, she noticed he was already twenty minutes late. As the city around her hummed its daily incessant chatter—even in the serene peace of the park—she decided to give him a call to find out what was taking him so long.
He answered on the first ring, his voice traveling through the phone with a hint of remorse. “Please don’t be mad at me.”
Taken aback by his greeting, she didn’t speak.
“Em, are you there?”
“Yeah, I’m here, but you’re not. Where are you?”
“I’m in New Jersey, but—”
“You’re in New Jersey?” she interrupted. “Dillon, what the heck? I’m sitting in Central Park by myself.”
“Emily, would you just let me explain?”
“Fine, Dillon, explain.”
“Remember the Japanese tycoon I told you was interested in investing with Morgan and Buckingham?” He paused, awaiting her reply, but none came. “Takatsuki Yamamoto?”
“Get to the point.”
“Shit, Emily, I’m trying to.”
She let out a sigh, and he continued.
“He flew in from Japan last night and is only out here for the next two days. He asked to meet with me personally. I got the call early this morning from my boss, telling me to come out here.” He answered a question directed at him from someone else in the background while Emily waited patiently. “Babe, I have to go. I’m sorry, but this account is huge.”
Again, Emily said nothing.
“Come on,” he breathed. “We’ll do it another day.”
“I know; it’s just that I took off from work, and I was really looking forward to—”
“Emily, stop trying to make me feel bad,” he let out, his tone clearly annoyed. “This is important to me. I’ll be at your place by six.” With that, the line went dead.
After the shock of him abruptly hanging up on her wore off, Emily rose to her feet and reluctantly started packing up what was supposed to be their little romantic getaway. As she tucked the sheet into her backpack, she straightened at the sound of her name being called out from a distance. Before she even turned to see the face, a familiar tingle traveled up her spine. She knew who it was. When she finally spun around, Gavin was jogging across the park, smiling, with his niece and nephew at his side. The backpack slipped through her fingertips as she took in his casual attire—a white V-neck T-shirt, cream-colored cargo shorts, and a blue New York Yankees cap. Emily tried to gather her racing thoughts as he approached.
It wasn’t just that his presence pulsed through her. It wasn’t that his masculine scent lingered on her senses, burning in her mind and plaguing her every dream. It wasn’t even that damn kiss. It was his unwavering charm, bold confidence, insane sexiness, and the undeniable male dominance he exuded. Every bit of it seeped from his pores. All of those things—a truly lethal cocktail—scared and fascinated her at the same time. It was as if a twisted paradox occurred whenever she was around him. As much as she seriously felt the need to flee from him at that very moment, she also felt irreparably drawn to him. Suddenly, she became aware of the heightened charge in the air. A tense kind of feeling seemed to press in on her lungs, making her feel breathless. To top it all off with a heavy dose of whipped cream, seeing him now flooded her psyche with their last encounter two weeks ago.
Breathe, Emily…
“Emm-mi-me!” Theresa squealed, running toward her.
Kneeling down to hug her, Emily looked up to Gavin. “What are you guys doing here?” she asked as nonchalantly as humanly possible, considering the circumstances.
Gavin hunched over and propped his hands on his thighs, trying to catch a decent breath. He then stood straight up and smiled. “I’m babysitting for a while and decided to take these two squirts here to play some soccer.”