Page 82 of The Love Rematch
As if pulled by a magnet, Emily looks to him. This time, he doesn’t look away. They’re fifty feet apart but he might as well be right next to her with the way her heart leaps out of her chest. He’s waiting to see what she’ll do.
Emily throws the second coin over her shoulder.
The heat in his eyes flares.
Give in, she wants to shout.Just give in.
He turns his back instead.
Maybe I’m wrong,Emily thinks as they continue on their way to the club where Trish rented a private room.Maybe he’s not afraid of himself. Maybe he just doesn’t want me, at least not enough. Maybe this is exactly the same as it was seven years ago, and once again he’s putting his job first.
She needs to know.
She can’t wait another seven years for the answers to her questions. She won’t spend another seven years wondering. She needs to know once and for all if Jake is willing to risk everything for her. And if he’s not, then she needs to say goodbye.
Which is why, when Nina walks over with a shot of tequila, Emily downs it without thinking. And why she does another with Fred, then another with Rita. The more in control Jake is—standing in the corner of the room with his arms crossed, brooding silently, looking far more attractive than he has any right to look—the more out of control Emily becomes. A dance battle with an assistant. A dare to slap Trish on the ass. A round of drinks that somehow ends with her and Nina back-to-back, grinding with each other on top of the bar.
“I had no idea you were this fun!” the producer shouts.
“Me neither!”
Another shot finds her hand and she knocks it back. As the song ends, one of the very handsome Italian bartenders offers to help her down. He reaches up and slides his hands suggestively over her exposed thighs on the way to finding her waist. She giggles as if it’s the funniest thing in the world. Then suddenly, a large, familiar hand finds hers and yanks. Emily falls backward with a yelp, sure she’s about to eat it on the dance floor. Instead, two solid arms catch her and hold her securely against a warm chest.
“You need some air,” Jake growls as he stalks across the room.
Emily grins triumphantly into the nook of his neck. It took longer than she thought it would, but deep down, she knew if she went far enough, he would swoop in to protect her, the way he always did before.
You do still care, she silently goads as they burst through the door and into the crisp evening air.Ha!
He puts her down the second they’re alone, then steps back to keep a solid three feet between them. Goose bumps rise along her exposed arms and legs, her jacket discarded somewhere inside and the weather cooler now than when they arrived. But inside, she’s all fire.
“What the hell was that, Jake?”
“Me, stopping you from getting groped.”
“Maybe I wanted to get groped.”
“By the lecherous bartender staring up your skirt for the past ten minutes?”
“So youwerewatching.”
His nostrils flare. “Em.”
“What, Jake? What? I’m all ears.”
He clenches his jaw and turns his face to the side.
“Cat got your tongue?” she presses. “Nothing to say now that you brought me outside, alone, where no one else is around to hear?”
He looks back at her sharply.
“Tell me,” she demands.
He swallows, his brows drawing together.
“Just tell me,” she says, her tone softening as she reaches out to close the space between them. Liquid courage thrums through her veins. She presses her palm flat against his abs and he draws in a quick breath, as if in pain. Yet the look in his eyes is all pleasure. Emily steps closer and runs her hand slowly up his chest, not breaking eye contact as her fingers slide into his hair. He’s rigid and stiff, as tense as a rubber band at the brink of snapping. One push and she’ll shove him over the edge. One push and maybe he’ll finally let go.
Emily leans up to press her body flush to his, emboldened by the shadows wrapped around them and the silence of the street. And yes, okay, by the copious amounts of alcohol in her blood.
