Page 77 of Engulfing Emma

I try to ignore the fact that we have an audience as I shove my tongue in her mouth in hopes of distracting her. She resists at first, squirming against me, but as I slide my hands up and down her sides and then up the back of her neck, she starts to relax. I know she’s going to survive the trip when she threads her fingers through my hair and kisses me back.

The attendant clears his throat and the elevator stops. “Rooftop,” he says loudly.

I pull away from Emma, wiping her smeared lipstick with my thumb. “We’re here.” I turn to the operator. “Sorry about that.”

He shrugs. “I’ve seen worse. Do you want to go back down, miss?”

She looks at me, unsure of herself.

“We’re already here,” I say. “Might as well stay a minute. We can always catch the next one.”

She lets out a breath. “Where’s the bar?”

I move aside so she can exit in front of me.

“Seriously,” she says, looking back at the elevator as the doors close. “Chardonnay. Now.”

A waiter approaches us with glasses of champagne on a tray. I take two of them and hand one to Emma. “Will this do?”

She drinks it in three swallows.

“I guess that’s a yes.”

“I can’t believe you did that,” she says, motioning to the elevator.

“It worked, didn’t it? You were having a panic attack. I didn’t know what else to do.” I wipe the lipstick off my thumb with a napkin and show it to her. “I got most of it, but you might want to hit the restroom to freshen up. It’s right over there. Do you want me to walk you?”

She shakes her head and hands me the empty glass. “I’m fine. But if you can wrangle up another one of these, I’d be grateful.”

“You got it.”

She’s much calmer than when we were on the elevator. We’re fifty stories up; why isn’t she afraid to be here? Surely the alcohol didn’t take effect that quickly. While she’s in the bathroom, I flag down a waiter for more champagne.

He looks at me curiously. “Brett Cash?”

“Yes. Have we met?”

“I’m Andrew Neal. You work with my cousin, Justin. We had drinks together last year at a Nighthawks game.”

I hold out my hand before I realize he can’t shake it because he’s carrying a tray. I chuckle. “Sorry. Nice to see you again. You work here?”

“I moonlight here during the summers,” he says. “I’m a teacher. Eighth-grade history.”

“What a coincidence. I’m here with a teacher.”

“Emma,” he says looking over my shoulder.

“That’s right. Do you know her?”

Before he can answer, Emma joins us. “Andrew, hi,” she says, looking uncomfortable.

“Hey,” he says. “I called, but you didn’t …” He looks at me and then back at her. “I’d better get back to work.”

He walks away before I can get a glass from him.

“That became awkward quickly,” I say. “Did you two used to date or something?” When she doesn’t respond, it dawns on me. “Did you go out with him recently? As in the last month?”

She snatches a glass of champagne from a waitress going by and sips, avoiding my eyes. “I may have.”

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