“Oh, I have your handkerchief.” She opened her hand, and it lay in the center of her palm in a soggy gray bal . “I tried to wash it in the sink, like I said, but—”
“I’l take it.” He picked up the wet handkerchief and tried to think what he could do with it. If he shoved it back in his pocket—either the hip pocket or the front pocket
—it would soon leave a damp spot. Final y he decided to drop it on the floor of the car.
“Don’t do that!” She looked horrified.
“Why not?”
“Because it was woven from the hair of sacred l amas cared for by extremely devout monks.”
“I made that up.”
“I know, but regardless of how it was produced, it probably cost more than half my wardrobe, so you can’t simply throw it on the floor of the car.”
He gazed at her. “Sure I can.”
“That’s wasteful.”
“Emma, you’re going to have to get over yourself, at least for this weekend.”
She lifted her chin in an adorably defiant gesture. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean that we’re about to stay in a penthouse that would easily house an entire vil age in some third-world country. We’l be the only two people in there, but I’l probably turn the heat up to at least seventy-two degrees, thereby contributing to global warming and the depletion of fossil fuels.”
“Okay, but—”
“In addition to my unconscionable use of resources to heat those eleven rooms, I intend to take long, hot showers because I love those, especial y in the winter.”
“Aidan, I’m not—”
“And if there’s some sort of Jacuzzi arrangement—which I would expect, but I’m not sure—I’l be fil ing that tub and using those soothing jets to massage away any tenseness I might have developed in the past few hours.” He paused, and a devilish urge made him forget his common sense. “If you hate the idea of al that water for one person, you’re welcome to join me.”
She flushed. “You and I both know that wouldn’t be a smart idea.”
“Maybe not psychological y, but when it comes to sharing resources, that’s another issue, isn’t it?” He shouldn’t taunt her because it only made his own frustration level grow, but she was so ... so juicy. He’d known she would tempt him, but he hadn’t factored in her overwhelming succulence.
She looked adorably righteous, but that didn’t detract from her desirability one iota. “As I’ve mentioned, I’l be considering this hotel stay part of my research.”
“Then you’l want to check out al the amenities. Breakfast in bed, champagne in front of the fireplace, your favorite movies on the flat-screen, a long soak in a bubble bath.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’ve made your point, Aidan. And I promise not to lecture you about wasting resources again this weekend.”
“Good.”
“But you may not have as much time as you think to lounge in the Jacuzzi. Have you checked the schedule?”
“I glanced over it.”
“Then you might remember that I have signings and interviews through this evening and al day tomorrow and tomorrow night, as Well. This is a book tour, not a pleasure trip. Perhaps you’d rather stay at the Palmer House while I take care of my obligations?”
“I think not.”
“Then good luck with your resource-wasting plans.”
He sighed. She’d bested him. He resented the way she dinged him about his wealth, and he’d tried to tempt her with the possibilities luxury accommodations could provide. Instead of fal ing for that, she’d reminded him of his duties and insinuated he was nothing more than an idle rich boy.
That wasn’t true. He worked hard. But he played hard, too, and he hadn’t al owed himself to do that recently. Obviously, he wouldn’t be indulging in any play-time with Emma, though, and that was the wisest course of action.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t tempted by the possibilities, but he sure as hel was.
Chapter 9
“This is it.” Carrying three books, Aidan came toward the signing table. “After this, you’re sold out.”
A cry of dismay went up from the line.
“I’m sorry,” Emma cal ed out. “I can sign bookplates for those of you who weren’t able to get the actual book.” She put down her pen and flexed her fingers. This kind of success was gratifying, validating, ego boosting, and a whole bunch more adjectives she’d be able to think of if her brain hadn’t shut down earlier tonight.
She wouldn’t trade this experience for anything, except maybe, at this very moment, a long soak in the Jacuzzi that Aidan had been so happy to dangle in front of her earlier today. She hadn’t even seen the inside of the hotel, let alone the eleven-room penthouse he’d described. They’d been on the go al day, hopping from her radio interview to a TV gig at WGN, to a cocktail reception put on by a local library, to this book signing.
The il -fated chocolate cake was the last thing she remembered eating, although Aidan had brought her food at various points, food she must have eaten at least some of. She couldn’t remember any of it. The cake, though—that would remain a memory forever.
She wondered whether Aidan had any sort of clue as to the fantasies that had bloomed in her active imagination the moment she accidental y smashed the cake onto her chest and thick, creamy frosting had worked its way between her br**sts.
That experience would rank as one of the most sensual of her life. Gooey frosting sliding against her skin and sending chocolate fumes upward as it warmed to her body temperature ... Life didn’t get much better than that.
Only one thing would have improved the sensation—having a man like Aidan lick it off. In her fantasy world, Barry would have been somehow taken out of the picture, snatched by aliens or something, so that she and Aidan could be alone in the backseat of the town car.
Then she could have unfastened her seat belt and turned to Aidan, who would also be out of his seat belt. Giving him a searing glance, she’d ask whether he could help her out. She seemed to have chocolate smeared al over the place.
“Emma?” Aidan’s voice snapped her out of her reverie.
She wondered how long she’d stayed there staring at the book in front of her, which Aidan had helpful y opened to the title page. “I’m sorry.” She glanced up at the teenage girl standing in front of her. “How do you want this autographed?” She snagged her pen and poised it over the page.
“It’s for this guy I know named Theo.”
Emma’s hand trembled, and she took another look at the teenager, who resembled al the others traipsing around the store—dark hair cut short, a black parka thrown over a snug white T-shirt, and ripped jeans. Maybe it wasn’t the same Theo, but she’d felt Aidan stiffen at hearing the name, too.
Emma decided to get this over quickly. She’d written To Theo when the girl started talking again.
“He’s a huge fan, and he wants you to write something special in the book. He wanted so bad to be here tonight, but he had to work, so he asked me to come instead.”
Emma had a bad feeling about this. “I’l just say, Thanks for your support. ” Emma started to write but the girl laid a hand on her arm.
“He told me what he wanted in there. Here it is.” She handed over a crumpled piece of notebook paper with a message scrawled across it that completely ignored the lines. The message said, I’d love to meet you.
“I’m sorry.” Emma gazed at the girl. “I can’t write that. My time in Chicago is very limited, and writing that would indicate that I planned to—”
The girl laughed. “Oh, I’m sure he doesn’t think you’l real y meet him. It’s just so he can show his friends, you know? It’s harmless.”
Aidan stepped closer to the table. “I’m sure it is, Miss ...”
“I’m Terry. Terry Eisenbach.”
“I’m sure it’s harmless, Terry, but I’d like to talk to you privately for a minute.” He rounded the table. “Let’s go over by the coffee shop.”
“Sure, but I’l get the book, right? I mean, she already wrote To Theo, so she can’t give it to one of the other people in line, right?”
“You’l get the book,” Emma said. She closed it and scooted it to one side as she greeted the next person in line, a young mother holding a sleeping baby.
As Emma autographed the last two books and then several bookplates, she wanted desperately to find out what Aidan was saying to the teenager. Maybe it was a good sign that Theo hadn’t come to the store but had sent someone in his place. Maybe al he wanted out of this was an autographed book.
Stil , she couldn’t write what he’d asked for. That was too creepy. As the last person left with a bookplate in hand, she pul ed Theo’s book over and opened it to the title page. Hesitating for only a moment, she wrote, Best wishes, Emma Gavin, and closed the cover with a snap. That was that.
Aidan returned with Terry, who was sipping on a coffee drink, which Emma figured Aidan had bought. The girl gazed up at him with worship in her dark eyes. Emma could easily understand that look. When Aidan turned on the charm, he was tough to resist.
“Your assistant, Aidan, explained everything to me,” Terry said. She spared Emma a quick glance, but she only had eyes for Aidan. “I mean, who would imagine that a message in a book could turn into a legal thing?”
Emma shot Aidan a puzzled glance. He was her assistant now? And what legal thing was Terry talking about?
He nodded wisely. “Anything’s possible in this law-suit-happy climate. I’m not saying that Theo or his family would carry it that far, but Terry agrees that Theo’s not the most stable person in the world.”
“No, he’s not.” Terry final y managed to tear her attention away from Aidan. “He might build it up in his mind that you’d actual y meet him, and flip out when you didn’t.
I guess his folks could sue for emotional damage or something. They have the money.”
“Oh, real y?” Emma glanced at Aidan. “I didn’t know Theo came from a ri—I mean, a wealthy family.”
“Oh, yeah.” Terry rol ed her eyes. “The Hendersons are loaded. Some people hang out with Theo because he has money, but I don’t. I hang out with him because he seems lonely.”
“Then he’s lucky to have you for a friend.” Emma picked up the copy of Night Shift and handed it to her. “Thank you for understanding that I couldn’t write what Theo asked me to.”
“No prob. He won’t be happy about it, but at least he has an autographed book, which I took my valuable time to get for him.” She lifted her coffee drink and turned back to Aidan. “Thank you so much for buying me this. If you need anything else while you’re in Chicago, you have my number.”
“I appreciate that,” Aidan said. “It’s good to have contacts in an unfamiliar city.”
“I know al the good places for music and dancing.” She gave him a coy look. “I’l bet you’re a good dancer.”
“Actual y, I’m a little rusty.”
Emma hid a smile. Rusty, indeed. He could melt an iceberg with his dance moves.
“I’d be glad to help you get back into it.” Terry’s expression was hopeful.
“It’s a nice thought, but I’l be pretty busy helping Emma get through the book tour.
Thanks, anyway.”
“Okay, but let me know if you change your mind. With al those long hours, I hope she pays you Well.”
Emma almost choked.
“She does,” Aidan said gravely.
“Guess I’l take off.” Terry didn’t move.
Emma decided she was supposed to be in charge, so she stood. “We have to leave, too, Aidan. If you’l arrange for the car, I’l say good-bye to the bookstore manager before we leave.”
“I’l take care of it.” Aidan al but saluted as he walked away.
Terry sighed as she watched him go. “You are so lucky to have him.”
“I am. Gay men make the absolute best assistants.”
Terry’s eyes rounded. “He’s gay?”
“You couldn’t tel ?”
“God, no! My gaydar must not be working at al , because I thought he was total y straight!” She shook her head. “Bummer. Well, good luck with the rest of your book tour.”
“Thanks.” Emma watched to make sure Terry left the area before she began gathering her coat, purse, and the remaining bookplates. As she was wondering whether she should cal Aidan to check on his whereabouts, her BlackBerry beeped.
When she read the text message, she laughed.
Is she gone?
Yes.
We R at main door. Need me?
She hesitated only a second while she entertained the idea of needing Aidan.
She probably did need him, in many ways. But she wouldn’t indulge. She texted him back.
No. B rt there.
“Sold out of books, huh?”
She turned. Standing about ten feet away was a tal , angular young man. His shaggy black hair needed a trim, and his jeans and gray sweatshirt looked as if they’d been pul ed from the hamper instead of a dresser drawer.
A squiggle of uneasiness settled in her tummy. “Yes, I’m afraid so.” She stil had her BlackBerry in one hand. Feeling a little foolish in case she was wrong, she hit Aidan’s speed dial letter.
“Guess it doesn’t matter.” The young man approached. “I met Terry coming out of the store, and she showed me what you wrote. But looks like I get to meet you, anyway.”
“So, you’re Theo.” She prayed that the BlackBerry picked that up. She didn’t dare take her eyes off him to check for other people around. It was late, and the bookstore had mostly emptied out. Her peripheral vision told her no one was in the immediate vicinity.