The Seduction Request

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If she were his girlfriend?

Where the hell had that come from? As unfit as this Alex guy was for Emily, Matt was no more properly suited. God only knows where he’d squeeze her into his schedule.

His cell phone rang and Matt checked the display, cursing under his breath. His lawyer. He was awaiting information on the code-violation issue. This could be either really good or really bad news.

“I have to take this.”

He answered the phone, and, as he’d expected, it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. The violation was legitimate, and their only recourse at this time would be to meet the inspector’s demands, or file a lawsuit against the city. Suing Chapel would guaranty the restaurant’s failure.

Emily made an impatient noise beside him and Matt had the feeling she wasn’t thrilled with the interruption. Now was not the time to be getting on her bad side. Though it was against every principle of business he’d learned, he told his lawyer he’d call him back later, shut the phone off and hooked it back on his belt.

“Sorry about that,” he said.

“So, Conway.” Emily twisted the top off her beer. “You’ve got me here. What do you want?”

“What do you mean?”

She took a bite of her pizza and washed it down with a swallow of beer. “After eleven years and no word from you, there has to a reason why you’ve suddenly popped back into my life.”

He’d thought he’d be able to flub his way through this and skirt around the truth. She never had been one to sit back and let life happen around her. He should have known she would come right out and bluntly ask him what he was up to. He should have expected it.

“I’m reconnecting,” he said, which wasn’t completely untrue. “The relationships I’ve been finding myself in lately have been…unsatisfying.”

“What’s wrong, the California girls aren’t putting out? Or have you slept with them all already?”

“No, there are a few I’ve yet to violate.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the edge of her mouth lift. “By unsatisfying, I mean shallow.”

“So what, you expected to come back and just pick up where you left off?”

“That was sort of the plan. I’d like us to be friends, Emily.”

She made a huffing sound. “I’m not crazy about your definition of friendship, Conway.”

“Look, I know I should have kept in touch. You probably won’t believe this, but I never wanted to hurt you.”

“But you did.”

The accusation felt like a knife in his gut. He pushed his plate away, his appetite a memory. “People make mistakes. You could cut me a little slack.” The second the words were out, when her eyes turned stone-cold, he knew it was a mistake.

She got up and walked to the door, pulled it open and motioned outside. “Goodbye.”

“You’re kicking me out?”

“I said you could stay for dinner. And I don’t know about you, but I’ve lost my appetite.”

He rose from the love seat, balling his napkin and tossing it onto the table. “You were never one to play games, Emily.”

“I’m not the one playing games, Conway.”

He had a lot of nerve, coming here, manipulating her, then accusing her of playing games. He wanted her to cut him some slack. She wasn’t the one who’d stopped writing, stopped calling. She wasn’t the one who’d stayed away for eleven years.

She opened the door wider.

“Is this your way of saying you don’t want to be friends?”

“I was your friend. That’s one mistake I won’t be making again.”

This time her heart might not survive.

Emily rested her head against the lush ivy twining the cedar arbor, inhaling the sweet scents of her mother’s flower garden. Amber clouds streaked the sky as the sun dipped below the horizon and a warm breeze caressed her face. Ordinarily, surrounding herself with nature worked like a salve on her frayed nerves, but it was family dinner night at her parents’ house.

Her least favorite, and most nerve-racking Friday of the month.

Nothing short of hospitalization or death held up as a legitimate excuse to miss it. Her parents liked to stay actively involved in her life, which equated to two hours of them telling her exactly what she was doing wrong and how to fix it, while Emily smiled, nodded and tried not to scream. Not that she didn’t love her family dearly, but she’d given up trying to please them a long time ago.

And, as if spending the evening with her parents wasn’t bad enough, they’d excitedly informed her that Matt was joining them tonight. Given their level of enthusiasm and the extravagant meal her mother was preparing, one might have thought the President was coming to dinner.

She hadn’t talked to Matt since he’d left her apartment last night. And while she would never admit it aloud—she didn’t even like admitting it to herself—she had hoped he would come back.

Shortly after he’d left she’d gone to bed, listening to the rain tap against the front windows and feeling inexplicably lonely. Every time she heard a vehicle approaching, or the slam of a car door, she’d held her breath, waiting to hear footsteps up her walk. But he hadn’t come. And though she hated herself for it, she still missed him somewhere deep down.

Back when they were kids, during summer vacations when Matt was practically living at their house, he and Emily would sometimes stay up all night talking. After everyone had gone to bed, they would go out on the back patio, curl up in chaise lounges and talk until the sky turned pink with the first hint of dawn. There wasn’t a thing about each other they hadn’t known.

She’d never blamed him for what had happened between them that night on the beach. She’d let it happen, with no second thoughts and no regrets. She only regretted that it had ended their friendship. It was too late to get that back. They had both changed too much.

Sure, he looked the same, and sounded the same and sometimes he even acted like the old Matt. On the inside, where it counted, he was a different person.

When she’d gotten over the initial shock of his leaving, her heart had begun to heal. And after a while she’d even stopped missing him. Now that he was back, that old longing had returned with him. But she was longing for the friendship of a man who no longer existed.

Behind her on the brick path she heard approaching footsteps. Heavy steps that would indicate the person in question was probably male, and most likely large. Six foot three, two hundred and twenty pounds—most of it muscle—if memory served. She closed her eyes and prayed silently, please let it be someone else.

“Dinner is almost ready.” Matt’s deep voice wrapped around her, raising the hair on her arms and sending a shiver down her spine despite the heat. “Your mom sent me out to get you.”

Thanks, Mom. Without even trying she somehow always managed to make Emily’s life a little bit more miserable. “Tell her I’ll be right there.”

There was a brief silence then, “Emily, come on. You could at least look at me.”

Apprehension surging up her throat, she slowly turned. Matt stood, hands tucked casually into the pockets of his pants. At the sight of him, her body sighed with satisfaction. Talk about eye candy. The man was far too attractive for his own good. His hair was damp again and the same near-black shade as his eyes. A hint of his aftershave drifted in her direction, drawing her attention to his chiseled jaw and mouth. And oh, the things that mouth had done to her. Intimate things that still made her blush.

All his features combined, Matt looked rugged and dangerous—which was at complete odds with the conservative polo shirt and chinos he wore. Was it possible for a man to look reckless and sexy wearing Ralph Lauren?

His eyes soft and apologetic, he said, “I screwed up last night.”

It was the last thing she expected to hear, and it sounded far too much like something the old Matt would say. Don’t, she wanted to plead. Don’t you dare be nice to me. She wanted to hate him for leaving her, for not loving her.

But how could she hate him for being honest?

She hugged herself, feeling naked and vulnerable in a simple tank top and shorts. Which was beyond ridiculous, because she wore similar clothes all the time and she’d never felt underdressed before. Maybe it was the way Matt looked at her, as if he were studying every inch, memorizing her.

His cell phone rang and he reached down—she thought to answer it. Instead he turned it off.

“Emily,” he said, taking another step toward her. She wanted to turn and run to the house, but she couldn’t make her legs move. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I’d do anything to take it back if I could.”

She looked for a trace of deceit in his eyes, a sign that he was only manipulating her. All she saw was sincerity, and it put the tiniest crack in the ice covering her heart.

“Can you give me another chance? Can we be friends?”

“For how long, Conway? How do I know you’re not going to go back to California and never call me again? What reason do I have to trust you?”

“None,” he admitted. “You have no reason to trust me. I’ll have to earn it.”

She knew she was losing it when the idea of Matt working to gain her trust gave her a giddy, adolescent thrill. The thrill she used to get every time he smiled at her, or bent his head close to help her bait her fishing line. How many times had she intentionally popped her bike chain off the track for the sheer pleasure of watching him fix it, knowing he was doing something nice for her. And he would do it without question every time. What would he have said had he known she could bait a line with more skill than he could, or tear apart a bike and rebuild it blindfolded.

At times her adoration had been so intense she’d ached with it. But Matt had always been, and always would be completely unattainable. Even now, after everything that had happened, the thought made her inexplicably sad.

“So, what do you say? Tentative friends?” He reached for her, and though she opened her mouth to object, the words died on her lips the second he took her hand. He cradled it gently in his enormous palm. She watched, mesmerized as his thumb brushed across her knuckles. Heat pooled deep in her stomach and her eyelids felt weighted down.

She risked a glance up to his face and found herself instantly locked into his dark gaze. Something sparked deep inside his eyes—a flame she thought had died a long time ago. How could she deny him anything when he looked at her that way?

“Emily! Matt!” Her mother’s voice cut through the silence like a guillotine, obliterating the moment.

Emily yanked her hand free, and when he reached for her again, she backed away. “Don’t. I need some time to think about this.”

“Emily—”

“Just give me a little time.”