Page 57 of Engulfing Emma

Toolbox swinging from one hand, he moves to the front of the house. “You drive a hard bargain, Miss Lockhart.”

My stomach does a flip when he calls me that. I hold the door open for him. “See you at seven.”

“Remember, don’t close it yet. Put a shoe in it to remind you. And don’t go upstairs until you can lock it.” He nods to Evelyn’s bedroom door near the bottom of the stairs. “Is that your study? Maybe you could hang out in there while the paint dries.”

“That’s my daughter’s room.”

His feet shift uncomfortably. It’s amusing how he’s worrying about me. “I really hate the idea of you leaving the door open for a few hours. Why don’t you find me a hair dryer so I can—”

“Brett, it’s fine. Go.”

“Are you kicking me out again?” he jokes.

“See you at seven,” I say.

I watch him walk down the front steps before I retreat into the foyer. On the sidewalk, he turns back. I take off my shoe and melodramatically put it against the frame. He laughs and runs across the busy street, dodging cars along the way.

I duck into Evelyn’s room and peek out the window, wondering how he’s lived there for two years, and I haven’t noticed him.

Then again, it’s easy to miss things when you aren’t paying attention.

~ ~ ~

I look up at the tall building. Well, it’s tall to me. To everyone else, it’s nothing. Barely a blip on their radar. I get dizzy thinking about going to the top. This was a bad idea—for more than one reason.

“You look nice,” he says behind me.

I turn around and see Brett wearing khakis and a dress shirt with the top two buttons undone. My heart may skip a beat. I’ve seen him in his uniform. I’ve seen him in jeans. Heck, I’ve seen him naked. But Brett Cash dressed for dinner might be my favorite look of all.

I smooth my sundress. “So do you.”

“Are you nervous?”

I hold out my hand to show him it’s shaking. “Not at all.”

“It’s okay to be nervous, Emma, but don’t let it stop you.” He gestures to the sign for a first-floor lounge. “We’re early. Our reservation isn’t until seven-thirty. How about we stop here for a drink?”

“You think I need to get drunk to go up there?” I ask, craning my neck to look up twenty-one floors.

“I didn’t say let’s get drunk. I said let’s have a drink. As inone. It can help relax you.”

I give him a hard stare. “I’m not sleeping with you again.”

He raises his hands in surrender. “I’m not trying to get you into bed. I’m just trying to get you to the twenty-first floor. I hear they serve a mean filet mignon.”

“What if I’m vegan?”

He looks a little green. “Are you?”

I chuckle. “No.”

He opens the door for me. “Shall we?”

I glance up at the top floor again, and my heart races.

“We’re going into the lobby,” he says, seeing my reaction. “Baby steps, remember?”

I raise an index finger. “One drink.”

---