“Am I hallucinating, or is Emory Owen making an appearance in the world outside of her office?” Mia feigned shock as Emory closed the gap to their table. Mia Parsons was an up-and-coming attorney at Taylor and Fullbright and the consummate socialite. She worked hard and played hard and everyone liked and feared her equally.
Emory moved into Mia’s open arms. “You’re hysterical, Mia. So how is everyone tonight?” Emory regarded the table of three women, two of which she hadn’t seen in several months.
“Better now that you’re here,” Barrett said. “We were all so sorry to hear about your mother, Em. We’ve missed you. I wish you’d come out more often and let us take care of you. You know, be your friends.”
Emory smiled in Barrett’s direction. Barrett’s kind eyes penetrated the bubble she’d placed around herself, and she was genuinely happy to see her. Of all of her friends, Barrett was the most down-to-earth, and she could always count on her. She made a mental note to not let so much time go by without calling her next time. “I got your messages, Barrett, thank you. It’s just been a busy time.”
“Well, if there’s anything I can do, just let me know. When I lost my dad, it took quite a while before I got back in the swing of things.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Ditto,” Christi Ann chimed in. Emory suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. She couldn’t think of a single instance when the vapid Christi Ann had been there for anyone. She was more interested in who she could suck up to and who she could tear down behind the scenes. She’d known Christi Ann since the second grade and she had the girl’s number.
“Again, thanks, guys, but I think what I need right now is a dance, so if you’ll excuse me.” Emory noticed the young blonde leaning up against the bar. The one who’d been clearly checking her out since she’d walked in the place. Without a second thought, she took a mollifying swig of her drink and left it on the table, intent on one thing, mindless distraction. She made brief eye contact with the blonde and inclined her head toward the dance floor in silent invitation. She maintained an even pace, confident in every way that the girl was trailing behind her. She felt a hand move down her back and smiled as she turned, pulling the girl tightly up against her body.
They danced, hips pressed together, bodies moving to the techno beat blaring from the club’s speakers, hands moving freely across shoulders, stomachs, thighs. Two songs in, Emory slowly began to let herself drift into the unassuming connection she’d created with a nameless, faceless individual on a dance floor—someone she owed nothing to and expected very little from. “I’m Aimee,” the woman whispered seductively in her ear once the music shifted to a slower, more sensual ballad. But Emory didn’t care and, in fact, would prefer not to know.
“Emory,” she answered back out of nothing more than a sense of polite obligation.
“I know exactly who you are.” Well, so much for an anonymous interlude.
The song ended, but Emory wasn’t finished with what she’d started. She allowed the blonde to tug her gently into a darkened corner of the club where they could get better acquainted. Aimee pressed her back up against the brick wall and pulled Emory slowly to her. Emory smiled at her would-be conquest with enough heat to make the girl grip her tightly for support. She was aware of the power she wielded and couldn’t help but like it. Her sex appeal had always been a valuable tool in her arsenal, and she wasn’t afraid to use it when the time was right. Tonight, she had one goal and one goal only. Total and complete diversion and Allie—or was it Aimee—would fit that bill nicely. She dipped her head in slowly and captured Aimee’s lower lip between her own and kissed gently, steadily and then quickened the pace. Aimee reciprocated easily, though it was clear who was in charge. Even though Emory’s lips were occupied, the rest of her was having difficulty following suit. She tried hard to free her mind and allow her body to react to the sensations that should be assaulting her in the arms of this ripe and ready twentysomething, but they simply weren’t there. Finally, she wrenched her mouth away and stared blankly at the brick wall. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”
“Is everything okay? Did I do something wrong?” Aimee asked. Her wide eyes searched Emory’s in the dimness of the club.
Emory did her best to smile reassuringly. “Completely me. I think I need some sleep.” She took a step back and turned to go.
“Can I get your number then?”
Emory froze and thought carefully about how to handle this situation. She had no intention of seeing Aimee again but also felt no desire to hurt her feelings. “Why don’t you give me yours?” She pulled her BlackBerry from her back pocket and obediently typed Aimee-with-two-e’s number into her phone, and with a quick good-bye to her friends, was driving home, listening to soft jazz, and thinking fleetingly of a pair of understanding hazel eyes.
Chapter Four
So it turned out he was cute, handsome even, and well dressed. Sarah sipped her sangria and watched cautiously as James surveyed the dessert menu. Dinner had gone well. They’d chatted easily about their jobs, families, and even football, a sport Sarah felt beyond passionate about. She smiled to herself and marveled at the fact that one of Carmen’s setups might actually pan out.
“Why don’t you choose for us?” James said. He handed the small menu to Sarah and smiled. “They all sound wonderful to me.”
Sarah certainly had no problem choosing and zeroed in on the warm pecan pie and vanilla ice cream, her mouth already watering. They placed their order with the waiter and settled in for more conversation.
James relaxed easily into the plush chair. “Tell me about your daughter.” He seemed genuinely interested, and that scored major points with Sarah. Not many of the men she’d gone out with had so much as mentioned Grace on their own. This was promising, very promising indeed. As long as he didn’t live with his mother, they might be in business.
“Well, she’s eight years old and about as precocious as they come, interested in everything. Yesterday, she asked me if she could start drinking espresso, because that’s what the Italians did. I love her to pieces, but I may have my hands full when she’s older.” She smiled widely just thinking about Grace and then played back how that must have sounded. Maybe she shouldn’t point out that her child was odd.
“She sounds like a lot of fun.”
“Oh, she’s definitely that and more, a laugh a minute, that kid.”
The car ride to her apartment was quiet with the exception of the radio playing softly. Sarah couldn’t help but wonder if James would expect to be invited in, and if so, how she would go about explaining to him that she just, well, didn’t go there on the first date. Grace was spending the night with her parents, and that left the apartment empty. She didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.
As he followed her to her door, her anxiety only grew, and she was already formulating her polite explanation. But to her amazement, he paused on the front step and took her hand in his. “I had a wonderful time with you tonight, Sarah. You’re everything Carmen said you would be. I’d love to see you again, that is, if you’d like to.”
Sarah blinked once, again surprised by what a charming cutie her date was turning out to be. He actually looked nervous. “Um…I’d love to see you again. Next weekend?”
“Sounds perfect. I’ll call you later this week to firm up plans.” He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Sarah’s lips. It was simple. It was sweet. And it left her smiling as she watched him walk the length of the sidewalk back to his car. It had been a nice night, she mused as she made her way into the apartment. She was glad that she’d gone.