“Today, Seth,” I say, pressing my hands to the counter. “The cancer has moved to his lungs. He could fall apart at any moment and right now Derek would claim control. I can’t let that happen. And without Mike Rogers on our side, I need to deal with the rest of the stockholders.”

“We have a plan for them.”

“If it’s as good as the one for Riker, we don’t have shit.”

“Riker and the trucking company are both targets for Martina’s operation. That means he was on Derek’s radar way before us. The others won’t be.”

“You don’t know that. I told you. Don’t underestimate my brother or my father. I can’t wait for you to handle this. You need to handpick select people from your security team and get them to the other key stockholders.”

“I don’t trust anyone to handle this but me. Give me until tonight before you make me do that.”

My jaw clenches. “Fine. Tonight.” I end the call and set the phone down, rotating to find Emily standing in the entryway. “How much of that did you hear?”

She walks toward me, joining me on this side of the island to lean on it next to me. “Too much, I think.”

At least she’s honest. “How much of an ass do you think I am now?”

“I don’t think you’re an asshole, Shane.”

I rub the stubble on my jaw. “Then you must not have heard it all.”

“I’m pretty sure I did and this is no different than a courtroom brawl. You’re at war and war is not pleasant.” She glances at the pot. “Please tell me that isn’t as thick and strong as car oil.”

“It’s a Starbucks blend.” She moves toward the pot and I drag her to me. “Why are you not asking questions?”

“I don’t need to ask questions.”

“Because you don’t want me to ask you questions?”

“I might be guilty of that at times, but not this time. I’ve met Derek. I’ve looked into his eyes and into yours, and you’re the better man. You need to win and more so, I understand what you’re going through. I know how family can gut you.”

“Gut” is a powerful word and I’m not sure if we’re talking about her father, or something more, but I stick with one piece of the puzzle at a time. “How old were you when your father died?”

“When he killed himself?” She doesn’t wait for a reply. “Fourteen and he was…”

“He was what?”

She cuts her gaze away and her fingers flex into my chest, as if she’s pushing me away, but she doesn’t. “Nothing,” she murmurs, not looking at me. “I need that coffee.”

I hold on to her, and damn it to hell, I want to push, but I check myself and release her. She is quick to step away from me, moving to the coffeepot. I join her and reach to the cabinet above her head, pulling out two generic mugs and setting them on the counter. There is something about having her here with me in my kitchen that is right in a way I’ve never let myself—or even wanted—to experience. She reaches for the pot, but I step between her and it, shackling her hips and aligning our bodies. “Remember when I said I don’t do relationships?”

“Or two dogs and six kids.”

My lips quirk. “Six kids?”

“Six dogs?”

“You’re crazy, woman.”

“Because I haven’t had coffee,” she jokes, but then turns somber. “In all seriousness though, Shane. I still get it. No relationship. Just sex. I get that this isn’t a good time for you.”

“It’s never been a good time for me, Emily, and that extends to well before I moved back to Denver.”

“I understand.”

“No. You don’t. I don’t do relationships, but I seem to do you, and us, exceptionally well.” I cup her face. “Spend the weekend with me.”

“What?”

“Spend the weekend with me. I have to get some work done, but I can do it here. We’ll hide out, order room service, and stay naked as much as possible.”

“Naked. Well, since you put it that way.”

My lips curve with approval. “All right then. One more question. Coffee first or sex first?”

Her eyes light with amusement. “I hear coffee makes sex better.”

“Coffee it is,” I say, releasing her and reaching for the pot to fill our cups.

“Please tell me you have cream and sugar.”

“Plenty of both.” I open the cabinet and set two boxes in front of her.

“Thanks,” she says eyeing the boxes before emptying several packets of sugar into her cup. “You mentioned work you have to do. I can help you if you’ll let me.”

“If you don’t mind researching drug companies and marketable products, I’d love the extra set of hands.”

“I don’t mind at all. The whole pharmaceutical side of things sounds interesting, but I do need to run to my apartment and grab some clothes and my flat iron. I can’t be a frizzy mess with the same clothes on all weekend.” She sets her cup down. “If fact, I should go do that now and get it over with.”

“I’ll drive you,” I offer, certain I can get us in and out of here with more discretion by car than on foot. And I’m damn sure not blurting out a warning about Derek—that needs to be well timed and thoughtful.

“I can walk,” she says, her hands settling at the back of her hips. “I’ll just run to my place and come back here.”