The British Affair, page 31
“That’s utter bullshit, Em, and you know it. You were afraid. Afraid that you’d never measure up to your parents’ love affair. What Dave yearns for, you ran away from. It’s the path of least resistance to dismiss something out of hand. And it’s why you chose an unfeeling turd for a potential life partner. Your heart wasn’t engaged. Are you pissed that he left you to clean up a public humiliation? Sure. You’re human, but at the end of the day, you faced down a crisis and survived. Now you’re learning the life lesson of that experience.”
“And you’re that lesson?”
“Indeed.”
They stared at each other in silence.
“What’s it going to be, Emma? Cling to a past that no longer fits you, or embrace a future that hasn’t been written?”
Thank fucking god the car honked and maneuvered to the curb beyond where they stood. She needed to think. Everything was moving too fast.
He palmed her ass as he helped her into the car. The sexual energy they created started to crackle and spit. She felt oddly woozy as emotions she couldn’t pin down swirled inside.
Exhausted, confused, and scared, she cuddled against his shoulder. His presence calmed her scattered nerves. He was real and solid and knew exactly who he was. Jordyn Knight did not need fixing and most certainly did not fall into the ordinary guy category.
Be careful what you wish for. She mentally snorted at the old saying that now had more than a little meaning.
With no formal dinner planned for the Hall’s guests, they had a late supper outside on Gran’s flower-filled terrace. Jordyn was struck by the quiet calm that surrounded them. It was as though time had shifted into low gear.
Watching Benji dance to his granny’s tune was something of an eye-opener. Those two were in an obvious conspiracy that involved impeccable manners and rehearsed lines. Was this performance supposed to sway Emma? He assumed it was, but the thing that made all this surreal had everything to do with the fact that Emma didn’t need swaying. Not where the two of them were concerned. The holdup preventing forward movement had to do with the annoying and inconvenient details. Like passports, visas, and countries separated by an ocean.
Emma picked at her food. Mostly, she shifted things on her plate. It was so unlike her that he became concerned. This concern lasted until their eyes met.
Everything else faded to a dull blur. The only thing he saw or was aware of was her.
Aqua eyes studied him. He fell into the ocean of blue and drifted on the current. She licked her lips. Her chest rose and fell with each breath.
He inhaled slowly, deeply. Her scent was there, tantalizing his senses. A secret smile trembled on her lips. She knew.
Benji broke the intense connection by moving his chair next to Emma’s. He wanted to see the pictures she had on her phone. He cleared the dishes in two back and forth trips to the kitchen.
He set a tea tray on the table next to Gran. She smiled and motioned for him to sit. For long moments, they didn’t speak – they simply watched the charming interaction between his son and the woman he was destined to adore.
“Something has changed,” Gran murmured softly.
Her eyes scanned his face. He reached for her hand and nodded.
“Have you found a way, Jordy?”
Sadness engulfed him when he shook his head. “Not yet.”
“Tell me something. Have you made a formal declaration, or are you two playing clever word games?”
Her directness made him wince. “I think we’re both afraid to say it out loud while the roadblocks loom so large.”
She tsk’d and gave him a pointed look. “So you let your son do the talking for you?”
Was that what was happening? He looked at Benji. He was standing next to Emma with his arm casually looped around her neck. They were looking at her phone pictures and having quite a laugh. The two were completely at ease with each other. Natural.
“I have a suggestion,” she very quietly said.
“If it offers a way out of this mess, I’m all ears, Gran.”
Her expression split fifty-fifty between triumph and trouble. Even at her age, an impish smirk made an impact. What the hell was she hiding up her sleeve?
“Now, mind you, I haven’t spoken of this to anyone. Not really. A mention here or there does not a full-blown plan make.”
“I understand.”
“Here it is, my boy. Without time to think everything to death and blunt all the sharp edges, this may sound raw, but that’s the beauty of the unknown.”
“Go for it, Gran.”
“I want Jon Perfect to author our family history, and I want Emma to pen Benjamin’s part.”
His mind stuttered to a shocked pause. “What?”
It’s the perfect solution.” She snicker-laughed with a wink. “Perfect. Get it?”
“Uh, I need more. What are you suggesting?”
She laughed merrily and patted his cheek. “I’m suggesting that no one in control of their sane mind would dare to tromp all over an old lady’s dying wish.”
“You’re not dying,” he barked. “Don’t say that.”
“You know what I’m getting at, Jordy. And keep your voice down before you alarm Emma and Benji.”
Damn her for countering with a good comeback. He glanced at the two – found them still immersed in the wedding photos – and turned his attention back to his sly grandmother.
“I’ve given this matter a fair amount of thought. Without a pie in the sky fantasy about bestsellers, this idea will need careful planning. We can take a portion of Benjamin’s estate to underwrite the costs. That way Jon isn’t working for free on a project that might never be published.”
“Slow down, Gran. You’re way ahead of me.”
Her exasperated sigh made him feel like a jerk. “Jordyn. I’m going to use part of my late husband’s estate to finance a family biography. No one but Jon Perfect will do. And I want Emma to author Benjamin’s life story. To do that, she has to be here. Where she can wade through his papers and make some sense of his life’s work. Am I still ahead of you, or has your brain caught up?”
“Oh.” That was all he had.
“Let’s pour, shall we? Before the water gets cold. Emma, dear,” she called out. “Tea!”
He scrambled to catch up as his feisty, incomparable grandmother arranged all the pieces in a manner that he had to admit was worth considering.
Just as they had after the first night they shared a meal, she and Jordyn strolled along the lane after dinner. Benji was darting in and out of the woods, occasionally yelling to let them know when he located one of his bunnies.
They stuck close to the Hall because of the encroaching darkness.
“Benji is going to miss you.”
“Please don’t go there,” she replied. After a beat or two, she yanked on his hand. “What about Benji’s dad? What are his feelings?”
“Benji’s dad is plotting to kidnap you. Newly discovered plans from the time of the Hall’s construction reveal a hidden dungeon. Perfect for keeping you captive.”
She laughed. “Should I be afraid, Sir Knight?”
“Depends on how good your acting is.”
“You make me imagine the most outrageously wicked things. Stop that right now!”
She let go of his hand and slid hers through the crook in his arm. Each time she hugged his arm and rubbed her boobs on him, he chuckled.
The scent of an English country garden at the end of a beautiful day hung in the air. Their feet crunched along the gravel walkway. She sighed deeply.
“Today was simply spectacular,” she told him. “I write for a living, but there are no words. How do you convey the over and over rush of emotions?”
“I’m glad we shared the experience. Your joy made the day for me.”
She wanted to tell him about her developing wedding fantasy, and her wish that his grandfather’s flowers be part of the day, but she didn’t. He was right. She was afraid. More afraid than she’d ever been. Admitting her feelings just to herself had opened a floodgate of doubt. Saying it out loud terrified her, so she changed the subject.
“I’ve set aside time tomorrow for a video interview with Jacob Wyatt. He’s rather jazzed about being quoted in the article.”
He said nothing. They walked in silence.
Eventually, he asked, “Tired?”
Hardly! She searched his face to ascertain where the question came from. What he said next made her feet tangle together.
“I’m just asking because all the running has to be exhausting.”
She stumbled and grabbed at his arm. Shit. The man had a way of nailing her with little effort. Change what they were talking about was a form of running.
Very, very tired of all her customary behaviors, she threw everything into the trash and let her feelings be her guide. She stopped walking and pulled him in close. When she lifted her arms to his shoulders, she felt the hem of her dress creep up. Stepping as close as she could, Emma rested her body against his and angled her head for a special kiss.
They stood on the tree-lined path wrapped in each other’s arms. She initiated an exploratory kiss that quickly ignited a bonfire of lust. He took control. His hand on her neck did weird things to her tummy.
The kiss turned ravenous. His hand grabbed a handful of her ass and squeezed. She whimpered with need. He took advantage of her trembling state to overpower her mouth with his tongue and lips.
When he ended the kiss and clutched her tight, he whispered into her ear, “I’m in love with you, Emma Perfect.”
She nearly dropped like a stone, but his arms held her upright. Oh! How she wanted to answer with a declaration of her own. The words were there – on the tip of her tongue.
When it was too dark to remain outside, he whistled for Benji and the three of them ambled back to the Hall.
Emma vapor locked when they were inside his apartment, and Jordyn casually informed Benji that he trusted him to stay by himself for a little while. When the lad asked why, his father explained that he wanted to spend time with her. Alone.
Benji lit up like a Christmas tree. “Cool,” he muttered.
It was all very matter-of-fact as father and son went through their routine. Pajamas were donned, and teeth thoroughly brushed. Two approved books were identified as well as three television and or movie options. They negotiated snacks – Benji won the night with some clever maneuvers – and had a serious discussion about security. Jordyn pointed out Emma’s direct line on the house phone and struck a deal for checking in at lights out.
They were making a slow retreat that stalled at the apartment door. When Benji magnanimously squawked that he’d be fine if she and his dad wanted to have a sleepover, Emma was flabbergasted into frozen silence.
Very solemnly, father and son shook hands. “Lock the door after me,” Jordyn instructed. Then he took her by the hand and led them up the back stairway – stopping on the midway landing to feel her up and kiss her senseless.
They tiptoed to her room despite the fact that most of the guests were still out celebrating. When the door shut behind him, and he threw the latch, Emma wasted no trouble stating her needs.
Knight, however, had something different in mind.
They came together with an initial explosion that shook her up. He slowed things down and choreographed a spine-tingling seduction that made her feel loved, cherished.
They were good at getting their naughty on, but nothing that came before prepared her for the romance and raw emotion of her man’s loving.
He played with her senses and only took her when she was hanging by a thread. Jordyn entered her with exquisite slowness. His strokes were deep and decadent. Kisses led to gasps. He grunted to show his pleasure.
This was what lovemaking should be. She shuddered and held on. They rolled around her bed. He made love with his eyes as his incredible cock claimed her pussy.
She didn’t want it to end. Ever. And it wasn’t just because her pleasure centers were firing on all cylinders. The connection she felt changed her perception of what being in love meant.
Her hips rose to meet his. She loved the feeling of his big, powerful body slamming her into the mattress each time he sank deep.
He held her hands above her head and ravaged her nipples. Her pussy quivered with every forceful stroke.
Over and over, he revealed what was in his heart. Each declaration of love left her moaning and breathless.
Something clawed its way out of her heart. She clung to him and cried his name. The dam of her emotions burst, and she said the words that sealed her fate.
“I love you,” she whimpered. “I love you.”
He kissed her with such tenderness that she melted down in short order. Her surrender complete, Emma placed all her faith in Knight’s hands and gave herself to the moment.
They climaxed together. Overwhelmed with emotion, she cried in his arms. He made promises and swore his eternal devotion as she clung to him and prayed with all her might that they’d find a way.
Chapter Twenty-One
“I suck,” Lenny wailed into the phone. “Please don’t hate me.”
Emma was speechless as her friend’s confession unfolded. Unable to keep her damn mouth zipped, she’d gone and told Dave what his sister was up to. Although Lenny made him swear to stay out of it, they both knew there was little likelihood of that actually happening.
“Are you insane?” She was shrieking and not in a quiet, controlled way.
“I know, I know,” Lenny sobbed. “He was ignoring me, and I don’t even know what happened, Em. One second, it was the same old, same old, and the next thing I knew, I’d had enough. So I blurted out the one thing I knew would earn me all of your brother’s attention.”
“You bitch. You sold me out for a boy?”
“I didn’t know what else to do,” she confessed. “I can’t take it anymore. Em,” Lenny groaned. “I’ve even been thinking about leaving Portland. I’m sorry for not being straight with you before now. It didn’t seem like a subject that fit in the post-wedding period.”
Although not an accusation, saying that stole all of Emma’s thunder. She already admitted that her selfish manner over the past few years made all the wrong people tiptoe around her feelings, so she let her best friend off the hook.
“First of all, you bitch, there will be no running away from the truth. Portland is home, and Dave will just have to get his ass in line. You two are perfect for each other.”
“Oh my god, Em. I have a script titled, Becoming Mrs. Perfect.”
“Jesus, Lenny. Look at us. I found a knight, and you’re practicing a Mrs. Perfect signature.”
“So you’re not mad that I spilled the beans about your knight?”
She had to think about it for a minute. Recalling a tense phone call that ended with her lover in a very good mood, she had to assume Dave confronted Jordyn, and that they’d somehow ended up shaking hands via the call.
“I think the two have talked, and since my brother isn’t threatening dire retribution, we should assume that’s a good thing, so no. I’m not mad.”
“What are we gonna do?” Lenny asked. “You’re losing it over a long-distance lover, and I’m so fucked up that I actually considered buying a one-way bus ticket. Something ain’t right, girlfriend.”
“Know what he did this morning?”
“Of course not, you lovesick twit. I’m across the planet.”
“We slept in my room. When I woke up, he was gone, but there was a red rose on his pillow and a scrap of paper with a shitty knight doodle. The man can’t draw worth a damn, but the message came through.”
“Aw,” Lenny cooed. “Your knight left his lady a rose.”
“I know, right?” She sighed dramatically. “Lenny, help me. I’m screwed.”
“Sweetie, if it was up to me, I’d tell you to throw a fuck it and just stay put. I don’t need to meet the man to know he’s extraordinary. Nothing less would bring about the changes I see in you. But I’m aware that fuck it options when borders and passports are in play are incredibly naïve.”
“It’s that and more. Benji is involved. He’s awesome, and I can see myself as his mother, but that’s a decision he and his father have to make.”
“Is there any doubt from either Knight?”
She sniggered. “Not really. I love it here. There’s an energy in the air that makes me want to write, and writing makes me want to explore. The synergy isn’t lost on me. And then there’s this other thing,” she grumbled. Sometimes, the bald truth tasted sour on the tongue. “Why’s it automatically gotta be me who gives up my whole life?”
Lenny barked with laughter. “Shut the holy fuck up, Emma Perfect! Exactly what would you be giving up? Huh? A condo you mildly accept in a neighborhood you hate? A car that makes you endlessly bitch with each loan payment? Tacos at Terrible Tom’s? None of that sounds like a hardship. And aren’t you the smartass who insists she can work anywhere as long as there’s internet?”
“I hate you.”
Laughter met this declaration. “Let’s make a deal.”
Ooh! A deal? Lenore Ackerman and a handshake agreement were sure to be loads of exciting fun. Emma sat up straight and said, “Shoot.”
“It’s May 2018. Let’s plan to have brunch on Harry and Meghan’s anniversary next year.”
“I could do that,” she quipped. “But where’s the challenge?”
“You didn’t let me finish. So May 2019 we meet. You as Mrs. Emma Perfect Goodlove Knight and me as –”
“Mrs. Perfect,” Emma chimed in with glee. “Yes! Yes! Oh my god, a thousand times, yes!”
“Then I take it we have a deal? The start of a Perfect Goodlove Knight tradition?”
They both pretended to spit into their palms and do the sister’s handshake that sealed their arrangement. With some side-splitting giggles and faux solemnity, they each entered the date into their calendars and preset an alarm.
The clock was ticking. She had a year to figure it out.
He and Dennis had a series of hearty laughs when they met to sync up as guests started to depart. The numbers were still preliminary, but there was little doubt that the re-branding and uptick in the Hall’s marketing strategy was a stroke of genius. The Wyatts took off at first light but not before booking a deluxe accommodation for their anniversary in the fall.
