TANNER

Every time Emma waits for me to ask a question about one of the rooms, I give my head a simple shake. Nothing big, just one gesture of no. She doesn’t push, and I suspect she knows how jarred I am by that compassionate embrace downstairs.

She does not call attention to it.

No man wants that.

Everything she says is business-as-usual, and none of the sexy flirtation we shared before is present today.

When it’s over I follow Emma to the door, my book tucked under my arm, hands clasped behind my back, chin dipped in thought as I ask, “Rather than see the other house we have scheduled, how would you like to grab some lunch? Have you eaten?”

Surprise flickers across her whiskey eyes, but a smile warms them instantly. She touches her stomach. “I’m starved. I came here right after church and even skipped donuts.” Her cheeks flush.

Did she skip them because she couldn’t eat, either? My room service sat untouched last night. I had coffee this morning but couldn’t take a bite out of my bagel and I normally have two.

I stare at her cheeks, hoping she never loses the ability to blush.

“I mean, I had the time wrong so I rushed over. But then on the way here…” She trails off, biting her lip.

“Hmmm. Me too. Had the time wrong, and that’s a lie and we both know it.” Her eyes widen. I hold the door for her. “Got that out of your system?” She walks out the door and doesn’t argue or answer. “Thank God,” I tease her, shutting it.

Narrowing an annoyed look at me, her shoulders straighten. “We’re taking my car.”

“What’s wrong with mine?”

“I like the wind in my hair.”

“Then why do you always tie it up?”

Throwing a saucy smile over her shoulder, she starts walking. “Because I like how glamorous it feels to shake it out like this.” Emma bends and flings her long, brown hair back like Rita Hayworth in the old black and white film, Gilda—just as alluring, only in color with sunlight beaming almost as brightly as her smile.

I pause, struck by the sight, as any man would be.

Under my breath I grumble, “Your car it is. But I’m driving.”

“No way!” she balks.

“It’s either we take my rental, or I drive your convertible, or I’m not paying for lunch. Or eating it. Or going anywhere. The man drives.”

Emma’s jaw drops as her feminism takes a front seat to her sense of right and wrong. “The man drives? The man opens the door? I can open my own doors and drive my own car, thank you very much, Mr. Hamilton!”

Chuckling and enjoying this, I meet her at the driver’s side of her Lexus and calmly inform the strong-willed creature, “A man doing those things for you is a sign of respect, not of your incompetence.” Her eyes flash as she inwardly fights me. I cup her chin before I realize what I’m doing, and she stills at my gentle touch. “It makes a man feel good to take care of a woman. Don’t make our dicks go limp. I’ll give you one concession, Emma, since you want to be so independent, walk around and open the passenger side for yourself.” Chuckling I slide behind the wheel and watch her through the rearview as she practically pouts her way around the car. As her hand touches the door I press the auto-open button and she steps back. On the old cars you couldn’t do that, but this thing can drive itself now. Hell, the only thing it can’t do is fly. I hope I live to the day when they can.

The seat belts auto-engage and Emma meets my amused look. “Mr. Hamilton.”

“Tanner.”

“I have something to admit. I almost slapped you again. But you made too much sense.”

“And you liked it.”

“I hated every moment.”

Laughing again—God it feels strange to laugh—I start driving. It’s a few minutes before she points to a cozy house and a mansion just down from it, same side of the street. “That’s where my cousin Hannah lives. And that’s my brother Ethan’s house.” There’s love in her eyes but it flickers and is replaced by fear.

“Duck down, Emma.”

She does. I can’t stop smiling because she looks so young hiding from her family like that. But she’s right. She’s a full-grown woman unlike any I’ve known. Just this little bit of time I’ve spent with her has me smiling more than I have in…ever.

“You’re clear.”

She rises up and pulls back her hair, trying to act like that didn’t happen. But she mumbles, “Sorry about that.”

“I don’t mind. Another thing men like to do is protect women.”

She looks grim. “If you’re saying you’re protecting me, that’s ironic.”

“Very.” We ride in silence for a while. “I’m not going to fuck you, Emma.”

Her head swings to me and she stares without knowing how to respond. “I’m just showing you houses.”

“Come now,” I chuckle. “I thought we weren’t going to lie to each other anymore. Or at least I wasn’t going to. How ‘bout you join me? Ah ah ah. Don’t do it! You’re about to deny you’re lying, which is a lie again.” Her soft lips clamp shut and she glares out the windshield. “That’s better. I’d prefer angry silence to lying.”

“Fine,” she mutters. “If we’re going to be honest, why not?”

“Why won’t I fuck you?” I cock an eyebrow at her. She instantly mirrors me, but looks far prettier. “I told you before. And now it’s compacted with the simple fact that I like you.”

She challenges me, “What if I tried to seduce you?”

“You couldn’t.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I have too much self control.”

“Hmmm…” She faces forward again, wheels grinding in that stubborn mind of hers. Right now she resembles Jake Cocker more than she ever has.

We have lunch at Meehans in Buckhead, sitting on the patio since the weather is perfect. She has the ahi tuna steak sandwich. I, the farmstead burger, medium rare. We keep the talk impersonal after I answer her question about where I call home. We spend most of the time comfortably discussing which television shows we think are worth streaming. She’s very passionate about this subject while I rarely have time for ‘brain candy’ as she calls it, so I have less to offer, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

I wait and wait and wait for her to make her move. Flash a little cleavage. Giggle and bob her high heel after suggestively crossing her legs. Play with her hair. Smile flirtatiously and too much. But Emma does none of the predictable tricks. In fact, she does nothing differently at all. Which makes me suspicious.

The bill comes and I’m relieved when I hand the server my Amex Platinum card without a fight. As I leave my normal hefty tip, Emma checks her phone and says, “Oh, Tanner, I’m so sorry.”

From underneath my brows while signing my name I ask, “For?”

“I have to push our other showings for today, back. Something has come up.”

Frowning I lay the pen down. “Everything alright?”

“Family thing,” she frowns at her phone, before sliding it away. “Thank you for lunch. That was delicious.” We rise and I motion for her to lead the way. She smiles, “I’d love to hear more about San Francisco some time. I’ve never been.”

I’m trying to figure her out. Where is this seduction she seemed to be planning? Everything Emma’s doing is normal and easy-going. None of it overtly sexy in any way, other than the fact that she’s tasty, no doubt about that. I caught several men sneaking glances at her face while we ate. Maybe the challenge is dropped and I can relax. “When are you free?”

“I’ll check my work calendar and get back to you,” she says as she waits at her passenger door for me to open it. I do and she glides in without argument. I love it when a woman listens to what I need. It’s rare and welcomed beyond my ability to explain. Strolling to the other side I say, “Of course. I’ll give you my number.” I slide in and the seat belts engage. “What’s wrong?”

“I think it’s best to go through your assistant, don’t you?”

Blinking at her I’m unable to argue. I can’t really insist she call me. That would be a bizarre thing to do. “Yes, of course you’re right. Call Dan. Set it up.”

She smiles and relaxes, tying her hair up and facing front to reach into the glove compartment and take out a pair of sunglasses. I notice they’re not the ones she wore that day. I’m sure those are scratched beyond appeal. She doesn’t point out the pink elephant. Instead, she gives no sign that there ever was anything thrown at my car.

Frowning I drive us back and see my vehicle silently waiting to take me to yet another solitary night of no activity. When I park I feel unsure of what to do with myself. She sits where she is and after an awkward moment I jump out and go to open her door. She takes my hand and allows me to help her out. “Thank you, Tanner.”

My chest aches and I don’t know why. Then I realize. “That’s the first time you called me that without sarcasm.”

Without guile her eyebrows lift slightly. “Is it? Yes, I guess it is. Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”

“Well, I have to go. Have a good evening.”

I watch her walk around to her side, and my hands dip into my pockets as I stroll to my rental and she climbs in the driver’s seat to drive away.

I glance back. “Emma!”

Her eyes meet mine. “Yes?”

“My sister’s name is Jennifer. She’s my only sibling.”

Emma’s lips part and a grateful smile appears. “Jennifer’s a beautiful name.”

I wave and stand by my car as the convertible drives away. For the first time in my life a woman has utterly confused me.