The Bedroom Business

“When I came to New York,” he said, “I thought the height of fine dining consisted of a hot dog served with chili.”

Emily’s lips twitched. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yeah, I did. Back home, you ate a frank in a bun with mustard and, if you were lucky, sauerkraut. Then I came to the big city and discovered those pushcarts where you can order a hot dog smothered in mustard, ketchup, onions, rel­ish, and chili.” He grinned. “I can still remember standing on the corner, eating a frank with everything and thinking that was haute cuisine. Well, I’d have thought it if I’d known the phrase. As it was, I just figured I’d died and gone to heaven.”

Emily laughed. Damn, Jake thought, watching her, she had a wonderful laugh.

“Chili dogs are gourmet dining, huh?”

“Hey, this is New York.”

She laughed again. Had her laugh always been like this, so open and easy and infectious? Or had he just never noticed it before?

“Thank you, Jake. For making me feel better, I mean. All through supper, I just kept wanting the evening to end.”

“Ah.” He cleared his throat. “Speaking of endings, how did it? End, I mean. What time did Jennett get you home?”

“I’m not sure. It wasn’t late.”

“No?”

“No.” Emily’s smile faded. She took some papers from the desk and began leafing through them. “You left me a memo about that trip to San Diego. I have it here, some­where...”

“Emily? What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on, don’t hand me that. Something’s wrong.” Emily bit her lip, spun around and started towards the door. “I don’t want to discuss it.”

Jake could feel his muscles knot. “Well, I do,” he said. He moved past her, shut the door, leaned back against it and folded his arms. His face was blank. “I thought you said he wasn’t an octopus.”

“He wasn’t.”

“So?”

“So...” Color suffused her face. “I don’t think this is an appropriate topic of conversation for an employer and an em­ployee.”

Jake thought about taking Emily in his arms, kissing her until she clung to him, reminding her with his hands and mouth that what had gone on between them last night wasn’t what either of them would have called “appropriate” just a few days ago, but that would only have taken things back to where they’d been in the elevator, and he wasn’t going to let that happen.

He’d already reached that decision.

There wasn’t a way in the world he was going to get in­volved with Emily...but he did have an obligation here.

“Remember what I said after your date with Archer? About feeling responsible?” He spoke calmly. Why wouldn’t he? Just because her color was deepening and his imagination was running wild, why wouldn’t he speak calmly? “I intro­duced you to him, too, and look what happened. Come on, Em. Tell me about last night.”

Emily sighed. She put her hands behind her, placed them against the edge of Jake’s desk and leaned back. The simple action thrust her breasts forward. Not that he could see them; she had on another of those big, bulky suit jackets. But he could imagine the way they were lifting, rising towards him. Towards his hands. His mouth...

Jake frowned and stood up straight.

“What did he do?” he demanded. “If that bastard got out of line—”

“We kissed,” she blurted.

Jennett had kissed her. Jake curled his hands into fists until he could feel his fingernails biting into his palms. Well, so what? A kiss wasn’t anything. And she had the right to kiss any man she liked. She had the right to sigh in a man’s arms, open her lips to his, take his tongue into her mouth...

Jake cursed, grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair and made for the door. Emily flung herself in front of it.

“Jake? Where are you going?”

“To kill Jennett,” he growled. “I don’t know why you tried to protect him, why you said he wasn’t all over you if he was, but—”

“He wasn’t. He didn’t. It was me. I...I kissed him!”

Jake felt everything inside him become numb. “You kissed him? But you just said­—”

“I know what I said.” Emily blushed. “This is so em­barrassing!”

“Just tell me what happened, dammit.” Jake tossed aside his jacket and dug his hands into her shoulders. “You kissed Jennett?”

“He kissed me first. At the door. On my cheek. And I­—I thought, well, of course he’s only going to want to kiss my cheek, after that dumb performance in the restaurant...”