“I didn’t enter the raffle, either. The tickets were too expensive. Twenty-five dollars each,” she said, her frustration rising. “It had to be you.”
“Why?” he asked. “Don’t you have other friends and admirers? Couldn’t someone else have just decided to buy several tickets and put names of friends on them?”
Emma studied his face, her gaze sliding to the scar. The mark of imperfection was incredibly sexy to her and the fact that she knew he’d gotten that scar protecting someone got to her every time she looked at his face. She tried to read his expression, but it was inscrutable.
Narrowing her eyes, she shook her head. “Something about this is fishy. I almost feel as if I should give the car back.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “I wasn’t aware that your current mode of transportation was in such great condition that you could throw away a brand-new car.”
“Well, a roadster isn’t very practical,” she countered.
“True. It’s only a two-seater. You don’t have children, do you?”
“You know I don’t,” she said. “But there’s also not a lot of space for packing things in the trunk.”
He nodded. “You take a lot of driving trips?”
“Not really,” she admitted. “But I do visit my mother in Missouri sometimes.”
“I hear it will go two hundred and twenty miles on one charge,” he said casually.
“I know all about the specs. I was in charge of making sure Alex Megalos got his the first possible second.”
“Nice company car,” Damien said in a tone brimming with disapproval.
“The company didn’t pay for the car,” she quickly told him. “He paid for it out of his own money. Which leads me back to my original point. I didn’t buy a raffle ticket, so how could I have won it?”
“Apparently someone entered for you,” he said. “Someone wanted you to have the car.”
She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not comfortable with this at all.”
“Many people aren’t comfortable with change,” he said.
She glanced at him again, wondering if he was talking about the changes that would be taking place within MD. Or other possible personal changes. Her gaze dipped involuntarily to his mouth and she felt an unbidden rush of warmth. She forced her gaze away, but was still aware of him, the scent of his cologne, the closeness of his body. His hip was mere inches from hers. She glimpsed his long legs in her peripheral vision. His hand rested on the leather seat just above her shoulder.
He confused her. If he was trying to buy her loyalty or something else, wouldn’t he have taken credit for entering her in the lottery and held it over her head?
She turned toward him, looking up into his face. “If some mystery person had bought a lottery ticket on your behalf and you’d won, what would you do?”
“I don’t have personal experience. No one has ever bought a lottery ticket on my behalf,” he said in a dry tone. “I’ve had offers for free headstone markers—”
“You haven’t received death threats?” she asked, feeling a chill.
“Too many to count, but that wasn’t your original question. If I won a car and liked it, I would keep it. If I’d won this car and didn’t want it, I would sell it because the demand for the car is so high.”
“Sell it,” she echoed. “That sounds almost mercenary considering I got it because of a charity drive.”
“If you sell it, you could buy yourself a new car and put the rest of the cash in the bank.”
The idea tempted her. “If I bought a good used car…”
“I didn’t suggest you go that far,” he said. “If you insist on selling it, the least you can do is get yourself new, reliable transportation.”
She threw him a sideways glance. “Considering you didn’t enter the lottery for me, you seem to have a strong opinion.”
“You asked my opinion.”
True, she thought.
“Do you like the car?”
“I haven’t even driven it yet. I was told it could be delivered as soon as Monday. I don’t even know how to drive the thing.”
“I’m sure the person who delivers it will be glad to show you.” He paused a moment. “You could wait to make your decision after you’ve taken the car for a ride. It’s often wise not to judge before you’ve had a chance to evaluate the car for yourself.”
His gaze held hers and she couldn’t help comparing him to a fast, dangerous sports car.What kind of ride would he give? Emma should have been horrified by the direction of her thoughts, but when he lowered his fingers to brush back a strand of her hair, all she could do was stare.
He lowered his head and she held her breath.Was he going to kiss her? She should turn away, push him away, but she couldn’t move.
“It’s your call, Emma. No one is going to force you. You can give the keys back before, or you can take a ride and decide for yourself.”
His voice was low and intimate, the same way he would talk to a lover. She felt an ache start in her br**sts and slide lower into her nether regions. She couldn’t remember feeling this aroused by a man, and he’d barely touched her. What if he’d kissed her? Would she be able to resist him? Would she want to?
The limo pulled to a stop, distracting her. Glancing out the window, she saw that they had arrived at her apartment’s parking lot. She cleared her throat and decided to say goodbye here before he made her have another sensual meltdown. “Well, thank you for your generous contribution to charity this evening.”
“I’ll walk you inside,” he said and gave the chauffeur a quick nod. The chauffeur opened the door. Damien got out and extended his hand to help her.
“It’s really not necessary,” she said.
“I insist,” he said, and she knew it was useless to argue.
She released his hand as quickly as possible, but the sidewalk was too small. With each step, her bare shoulder brushed against his arm. Determined to escape him as soon as possible, she pushed her key into the door lock and turned it, glancing over her shoulder. “Again, thank you for—”
The door whisked open, taking her off guard. Her mother stepped into view. “Surprise! I found a deal on a flight and took an extra day off. I’ve been missing my baby girl.”
“Mother,” she said, surprised, noting that her mother had changed her hair color again. Violet-red this time. “How did you—”
“I have to go back on the red-eye on Monday night, but it was worth it. It’s been too long,” her mother said, then glanced past Emma to Damien. Her blue eyes rounded. “Oh, my, I’ve interrupted a date. You actually went on a date.” She craned her neck to get a better look. “Is that a limo? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Emma felt a rush of embarrassment. “This wasn’t a date. It was a charity gala. This is my boss, Damien Medici.”
Her mother’s eyebrows sprang upward and she pursed her lips into an O.
Damien extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms.?”
Her mother glanced at Emma. “What nice manners. My name is Kay Nelson. And it’s my pleasure to meet you. I don’t usually get to meet Emma’s coworkers, so this is a treat.”
“He’s not a coworker,” Emma quickly said. “He’s my boss.”
“Oh,” Kay said. “Well, would you like to come inside? I brought Emma a bottle of wine and baked her favorite cookies as part of her surprise.”
Emma stared at her mother in dismay. “Oh, no, I’m sure Mr. Medici is too—”
“I’d love to,” he said, and Emma swallowed an oath.
Damien wouldn’t dare give up this golden opportunity to get a different view of Emma outside work. Her mother was a charming, but fidgety, little magpie. She seemed unable to sit for more than a few minutes before jumping up for one reason or another. “Would you like more wine, Damien?” she asked.
He held up his hand at her offer of the pink beverage. He’d managed to swallow a few sips for the sake of being sociable, but he preferred dry red wine to white and never, ever pink.
“I’m sure you can imagine how proud I am of Emma. She’s always been a good girl. Much more conservative than I am, and look at her now. Working at Megalos-De Luca. Do you know she has worked for two vice presidents?”
“Yes, Mother, he knows,” Emma said.
“Well you can’t blame me for bragging about you. That gown is just beautiful. You’ve done something different with your hair, too, haven’t you?”
“Mother,” Emma said. “I think Mr. Medici needs to leave.”
“There’s no need to rush,” her mother protested. “Do you need to leave, Damien? If you’re worried about running up the bill with the limo sitting out there, I’m sure Emma would be happy to drive you home.”
Emma’s mouth dropped open in protest.
“I’m in no rush,” Damien said, leaning back in his chair, ignoring Emma’s hostile glare. “Tell me more about Emma as a child.”
“She was so thrifty. I swear that girl could make a penny squeal.” Kay sighed. “But you know we didn’t always have it easy, so that was a good thing. I nicknamed her Goddess Hestia. Can you guess why?”
“That’s the goddess of hearth and home, right?”
“Yes,” Kay said. “We moved a lot and Emma was quick to make anywhere we lived into a home. What a life. Remember the pony I got for you that Christmas?”
Emma nodded with a soft smile. “Peanut.”
“She loved that pony. Unfortunately we ran into a little difficulty and could only keep him for a year.”
Emma’s smile turned strained. “That was one of the good years,” she said.
“She always loved animals. What was the name of the last dog we had?”