No Letting Go (Man-Maid 2)
Chapter Three
Emma stared at the sign on her door. Open. It’d been a busy day, and she’d loved every second of it. It was nearly closing time now, but the joy of being a business owner sent a shaft of excitement through her, and a grin slipped across her face. She went behind the counter and took one last swallow of her apple juice, then tossed the empty bottle in the trash. The bells on the door chimed, signaling another customer, and she had to still her racing heart when she looked up and saw Jason striding through the door. When their gazes clashed and held, Emma’s cheeks heated. Jason’s mouth curved upward, as if he knew how easily he affected her. Damn annoying man.
She started to step around the counter to greet him, but her foot caught on a box sitting on the floor. Emma stumbled, her knee twisting enough for Emma to feel a dart of pain travel the length of her leg. She cried out, and suddenly Jason was there, catching her before she landed on her butt. With agile movements, he caught her up and cradled her in his arms. Everything ceased to matter in that moment; there was only Jason and his powerful arms and solid chest.
“Why do I keep catching you?” He kept his voice soft and gentle, and the easy rhythm calmed her like nothing else.
“I-I’m fine. Really.” Emma went stiff in his arms. “I feel ridiculous.”
She squirmed, trying to get him to put her down, but he was too determined. His arms were steel bands around her. She wasn’t going anywhere till she convinced him she was truly fine. “Jason, please put me down.”
He kept his hold on her and stared. The rigid expression on his face dared her to defy him. “I can see you’re in pain.” She started to argue, but he overrode her. “Is there a place I can sit you down among all this…stuff?”
Was that disapproval in his tone? “Stuff? I beg your pardon?” She felt totally affronted at his criticism.
“What is this place anyway?”
“Jason,” she gritted out. Her tone should have warned him he was treading on dangerous ground, but apparently he’d never learned to censor his thoughts. “Now, don’t get all huffy, I just figured with a name like ‘Your Heart’s Desire,’ a lingerie shop would be more…fitting.”
Her lips kicked up at the corners of their own accord. “You would think that.”
He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re a guy, so it’s not a real big leap that your mind might go down a slightly dirtier path with the name of my shop.”
“You do have a point,” he replied. “Still, you shouldn’t make assumptions about me.”
She barely heard him. She was too consumed with his woodsy male scent. God, he was intoxicating. He carefully made his way through the tight aisles of knickknacks and odd and ends. When he grumbled under his breath about feeling like a bull in a china shop, she swatted him on the chest. “Put. Me. Down.”
He stopped abruptly, pulling her more fully against the hard plane of his chest. “If you’ll direct me through this maze of queer objects, maybe I will. Do you have an office or a backroom?”
She sighed at the inevitable. The man was too impossibly persistent. “Back and to the right.”
He nodded and headed there. A door revealed a tight stairway leading to her apartment. “This will be a tight fit.” He angled his body sideways and maneuvered his way up the twisting steps. When he reached the top, there was another door. “It’s a good thing I’m not claustrophobic.”
Jason squeezed through the doorway and nearly fell over a bundle of clothes. He stepped over them and stopped. When he located the bed, he took two wide steps and placed her on top of the rumpled comforter. “Better?”
Emma nodded and breathed a sigh of relief at finally being out of Jason’s arms. He was too overwhelmingly male. His presence in the small room seemed to swallow up every ounce of air and every inch of space. She’d never had a man in her apartment before. Once upon a time, she was an intelligent, cautious woman. A few minutes in Jason’s company, and suddenly she lost all good sense.
She positioned herself, propping her throbbing foot up on the bed, the slight movement causing her to wince. In a strained voice, she said, “Thank you.”
He angled his head and crossed his arms over his chest, taking a minute to study her. She looked damn good sitting up in the unmade bed. Her hair, in disarray, floated around her body, so long that it skimmed the mattress. Her face flushed a slight shade of pink, and she breathed erratically as if still in pain and trying to
hide it. Her black slacks were fitted to her lengthy legs, and the crisp white camisole top was just see-through enough for him to make out the lace on her bra. She looked classy-sexy. It made him want to see her in a state of disorder like the bed. But first things first.
He crouched beside the bed and pulled up the hem of her slacks. Her knee was already beginning to swell. It was going to hurt like hell in the morning if he didn’t take care of it. “You need ice for the swelling. Where’s the kitchen around here?” When he started to straighten, she stopped him with a touch.
“Thank you, Jason,” she whispered.
He took her face in his hands and stroked his thumb over the adorable cleft in her chin in a gentle caress. He couldn’t help it. The soft skin of her cheek begged for his touch and he brushed the backs of his fingers over it. “You’re welcome.” He smiled when her eyes softened. “The kitchen?”
“Down the stairs and to the right.”
As Jason reached the downstairs, he almost knocked over a glass display case of what appeared to be…elves. “Who in the hell would want a figurine of an elf?” He made a mental note to ask her what kind of customers frequented a store like hers.
Jason glanced around and spotted the doorway to the backroom. He wound his way around shelves of crystals, amulets, statues and even an entire aisle devoted totally to little vials of scents and herbs. He stopped and squinted at one of the bottles, but he couldn’t pronounce what was written on the label. Jason went through the doorway to the kitchen area, though it looked more like a break room. There was a small refrigerator, a microwave, and a little round table with only enough room for two chairs. No stove? Did she have another place? Somewhere she called home sweet home, or was this it? It bothered him to see her living such a skimpy life. She was an intelligent business woman. Why was she living in a small room above a curio shop? He went to the refrigerator—if you could call it that—opened the freezer section and spied an ice pack. He grabbed it up along with a hand towel that sat on the counter next to it, then left the room.
When he reentered the apartment, he opened his mouth, ready to ask Emma about her living conditions, but went silent when he noticed her lying on the bed. She lay on her side, her head propped up on her fist. God, she looked beautiful. He wished like hell he had a right to go to her and lie down by her side. But he didn’t. Christ, she didn’t even want him around. He’d have to change her mind on that score.