to change directions in two weeks, but it can be done. First thing I’ll do tonight is issue, via email, a formal stop order for all advertising until I can provide new directives in writing. I want a paper trail. Then I’ll revisit the long-term exposure plans that Michael created for your account.”
Shooting her yet another quick glance, he was surprised at the ferocity on her face. “Problems in paradise?”
“While there are undeniable perks, the reality is that owning your own commercial business is far from paradise.” Her eyelids fluttered shut, her head thumping the headrest. “Let’s leave this conversation with ‘I’m looking into it’ and fully intend to keep your account on my personal client list.”
Hmm. “Dun & Bradstreet didn’t give you a bad report by any means, but Eli said your creditworthiness had slipped in the last twenty-four months due to some serious fluctuations in cash flow when compared to the previous five years.” The shock on her face said she hadn’t expected them to do such intensive research on her.
“If you have concerns regarding my company’s financial stability or my ability to do my job—” she started, but Cade cut her off.
“We hired you. That ought to tell you everything you need to know. We’re not the type to make poor business decisions.” He couldn’t stop himself from adding, “We can’t afford to.”
The next few mile markers passed in silence, the emotional tension escalating inside the truck seeming to rival the storm building outside. Anxiety crackled between them as true as Mother Nature’s lightning did between sky and earth. The charge in the air gave off the same general discomfort, the kind that said, “Take cover.” Cade tried to reduce the strain by changing the subject.
“I’ve never been to New York,” he offered.
“Hmm.” Emma continued to stare out the window.
“You can do better than that, Graystone.” So could he. “Tell me something about yourself, seeing as none of us have really talked to you.”
“What would you like me to volunteer?” The question was polite but lacked the force of personality she’d shown.
“You single?”
Surprise colored her cheeks and brightened her eyes as she whipped around to face him. “What? That’s irrelevant when it comes to our business dealings.”
He fought the urge to grin. “Not really. The bet still stands. Love or loathing. No way can I win if you’re going home to someone in two weeks, someone who’s already got your heart. Of course,” he said, openly considering her, “I can’t imagine you’re the type to take such a wager if you had someone back home. And I doubt you’d have such a...unique take on happy endings if you were working toward your own, would you.”
When she didn’t answer, he rested his right forearm against the headrest on her seat, letting his fingers trace the silken skin of her neck. He was struck by the urge to move his fingers higher. Following the instinct, he played through the hair at her nape. Soft but thick.
He fought the craving to massage up her neck until he could play with the thick mass over her crown. He should move away, stop touching her, his personal temptation, without remorse. He was about to pull his hand away when she made a slight sound of encouragement. “Feel good?”
“Didn’t realize how stressed I’ve been.”
“So, will you answer me?” he said gently, never ceasing his tender attention.
Tipping her chin forward to give him better access, she mumbled, “I did. I said I didn’t realize I was so stressed.”
“That’s not what I was after, Emma, and you know it. Are you involved with anyone?”
She shifted in her seat, forcing Cade to move his hand. His fingertips brushed over the thin skin protecting her life vein. He paused, only briefly, but it was long enough to experience the thunder of her pulse beneath his thumb. He dropped his hand to the console between them. “You’re single.”
“You can’t be sure of that,” she objected. “I haven’t answered you.”
“Don’t have to.” Had she been seeing anyone, he had this innate, inexplicable knowledge she would never have taken the bet. She wasn’t that person. That was answer enough at this point. It also left him with plenty to consider. He cranked the radio up, trying to buy himself time to think.
A gust of wind caught the truck and pushed the behemoth like it was no more than a paper kite in the wind. The storm clouds had taken on a deeper greenish-gray tone that colored the land an odd, pre-twilight color that was impossible to mistake. Mother Nature was advising everyone in the county that she was about to unleash a can of whoop-ass. The wise man would hunker down. Problem was, there was no way Cade could get them to the ranch before the heavens loosed their fury. If it hailed, it could total his truck. Lightning posed the largest threat, though. They’d be okay on the flats if they stayed in the car.
As a rancher, he spared a thought for the poor animals. They didn’t always have a way to get out of this kind of mess, and if they balled up in a fence corner, the ranch would lose a few to electrocution when lightning struck the metal fencing.
Emma unbuckled her seat belt, twisted around and half climbed into the backseat.
“What’re you doing?”
A gust of wind slammed into the pickup, shoving the big vehicle hard enough it knocked Emma into him. She landed with her hip on his shoulder, that luscious ass in his face. The urge to nip it was nearly too much.
Her muffled reply caught him off guard. “Grabbing my camera.”
“Your camera?”
Another gust of wind parked her hip over his shoulder. She pushed herself up, clutching a black bag large enough to hold decent digital equipment.
Then she realized the predicament she was in. She had one knee solidly between his thighs and the other rested against the outside of his right hip. Her breasts were pressed intimately against his chest and arm. Her far hand was digging into his pectoral pad. She dipped her chin and peered down at him, her eyes wide with surprise. “How did I end up in your lap?”
His right hand moved of its own volition, coming to rest on the indention of her waist. “Your camera, Emma.”
She swallowed hard and nodded, a couple quick jerks of her chin. “The storm. I wanted a picture of the storm. I’ve never...”
“Never what?” he asked, urging her to finish her statement.
Without breaking her gaze, she set her camera bag in her seat and wrapped her hand around the nape of his neck. “I’ve never experienced anything similar to this. Never encountered anything so wild and free, something that acts without consequence or—”
“There’re always consequences.” His voice had devolved into a gruff whisper. “Always,” he repeated, tracing his thumb over her bottom lip.
“I’ll live with them,” she said, voice husky.
“All of them? Just like that?”
“Every. Single. One.”
