Chapter Five
Finn inwardly cursed Emanuela’s tailor. Her legs were covered today, he noticed with some disappointment, by black tapered trousers. The contrast of her crisp white shirt against her skin made her face look luminous, and her hair was up again, this time in a ponytail. She was covered from neck to toe, the picture of stylish modesty, but she was still effortlessly sexy.
This is going to be a long afternoon. He was unable to tear his eyes from her as she withdrew her attaché from the passenger’s seat and made her way up the paved driveway to Simon’s gorgeous, stark modern sixties home.
“Good morning,” she said with a radiant smile.
“Miss Monroe!”
Simon made no effort to hide his pleasure at her visit. “Welcome to our little shop of horrors,” he joked, waving a scrap of prosthetic hand.
“Jesus, Sy,” Finn said. “She just got here, and you’re about to scare her off.”
He cast an apologetic look at Emanuela, but she had drawn her hand to her open mouth in mock terror at Simon’s antics.
“It’s okay, I’m quickly getting accustomed to this mad scientist,” she said, allowing Simon to embrace her.
Finn swallowed, watching the exchange. Such an innocent gesture but he knew if he were to hug her, that it would mean so much more. His smile was genuine but measured when she turned to greet him.
He wasn’t sure whether to hug her or shake her hand…or to stare at her like a besotted fool. He felt magnetized to her—a blend of nervous excitement, anticipation, and sexual tension that had been building from the moment he knew she was coming. He had to touch her.
He offered his hand and she took it, but the feel of her soft skin made his stomach ache. The contact was so formal, and not nearly long enough.
“Glad you could come,” he said in his deep timbre before reluctantly releasing her hand.
She peeled her eyes from his to look around the converted two-car garage. “Wow,” she said, turning in place. “This is impressive.”
The space was limited but well organized. There were bookshelves along the back wall containing texts, binders, and files. A large workbench strewn with an assortment of tools, scrap metal, and wire took up much of the space. A piece of machinery the size of a small refrigerator sat atop a small table against the wall to her left. Across from that, on the wall to the right, a cluster of monitors of varying sizes sat on a desk. A couple of the monitors were running complicated code; the largest of the bunch featured a three-dimensional graphic image of a prosthetic hand.
“You’ve discovered Command Central,” Finn said. “This is where I design each prosthetic piece and run simulations to optimize their performance.”
She nodded and leaned in to get a better look at the 3D image on the screen. The image reached for her, its long fingers wiggling into a wave.
“Whoa!” She jumped back, and Simon laughed.
Finn groaned. “Sy, that’s two strikes already, and we haven’t even started yet.”
She turned in the direction of Finn’s critical gaze and shook her head at the sight of Simon in some sort of sensor helmet, holding the very product she’d come to see. This was no scrap of metal. The prosthetic looked as lifelike as any living limb, and it was waving at her, wiggling its fingers just like the image on the screen.
“Okay, how are you doing that?” she asked, obviously sucked in by Simon’s playful shenanigans.
Simon walked toward a small dinette set up in a corner of the space, elegantly set for two. There was a single rose in a slim vase in the center of the table, and two place settings, complete with toast, fresh fruit, and two glasses of ice water.
“Come have a look,” he said with a big smile.
She set her attaché on Finn’s desk and walked over to the table.
“That seat’s for you.” Simon nodded to the other chair and she sat down, ready for whatever was about to happen. “Do you see these snake-like patterns throughout the synthetic skin?” he said in his professorial tone.
She leaned in to take a look. “Uh-huh.”
****
Finn had powered on the camera perched atop a tripod to record the exchange from the moment Emanuela had taken her seat. He leaned against the wall, his arms folded across his chest. She looked like an eager pupil with her wide eyes and her upper body leaning toward Simon in interest. He smiled to himself, watching the pair on the small screen.
“Those are sensors,” Simon continued. “The sensors are arranged in this pattern so that the prosthetic hand isn’t rigid, but moves fluidly, much like your hand, Miss Monroe.”
“Ahhh,” she said, understanding. “May I touch it?”
“Of course! You can even shake the hand.” He eased it toward her so he didn’t spook her. “Don’t be gentle. Get in there and squeeze it nice and firm, the way you’d shake an adult’s hand.”
She raised her hand and grasped the prosthetic, wincing at the unusual sensation of the synthetic fingers gripping her hand right back.
“Whoa,” she said again. “It feels…warm…and soft, like a real hand.”
“Precisely! The softness is the silicone, and the temperature is controlled by those snake-like sensors that mimic the temperature of human skin. But that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”
She returned his infectious smile.
“There is still some time before dinner,” he said. “Would you care for some refreshment?”
“I would,” she said, playing along.
There were no utensils at her place setting. She looked up, and the prosthetic hand lifted a butter knife, holding the handle between its forefinger and thumb, using it to spread softened butter onto her toast.
“Amazing,” she breathed, “but how—”
He tapped the strange helmet he wore, waggling his brows.
“Finn outfitted me with this wonderfully fantastical contraption for today’s demonstration,” he boasted.
“I did,” Finn said, still filming. “A prosthetic hand can do more than a leg, so it makes for a more impressive prototype. Since I’m the only metahuman here,” he joked, “this is the best way to demonstrate the way the prosthetic interacts with the nerves, and, by extension, the brain. The program you saw on the monitor behind me picks up each movement and translates it to a 3D image.”
Emanuela’s gaze practically caressed him. “It’s remarkable. I’m excited to see more.”
Finn was glad she’d turned around because the look she gave him before she returned her attention to Simon just about knocked him on his ass. Dammit, Finn! There had been nothing suggestive in her tone—but those eyes. The woman had a champion’s poker face. She was all poise and professionalism. But her flirting made him want to snatch her to him and wreck that pristine picture, to kiss her stupid and mess up her hair. A muffled groan escaped him at the thought. Thankfully, the others in the room were immersed in conversation and missed his audible blunder.
Jesus. Keep it together!
The next half hour was mental agony. He was confident in the product itself. He hadn’t been bluffing in their meeting yesterday. What he and Simon had accomplished was a big deal. Philip Hurst was her employer, yet Emanuela was the one they needed to impress. Although he didn’t want to disappoint her or let Simon down, he was impatient to spend some time alone with her before she left Seattle. It was challenging enough to wait the entire morning without seeing her, or calling her feigning confusion about some point or other. He knew he needed to let her do her job, so he refrained from making a fool of himself.
He learned the limits of his patience that afternoon, forcing himself to stay collected and finish filming their demonstration for Hurst Capital. He brought the camera close to get a clear shot of the prosthetic grasping a cup of ice water, and Emanuela’s look of amazement that the glass didn’t shatter from the strength of the prosthetic, or slip from the condensation on the glass. For the humble but sweet finale, the prosthetic lifted the rose from its vase and offered it to Emanuela.
She clapped and looked into the camera with a smile. “I think we’ve got enough.”
She sent Philip the footage for supporting material, and then made a conference call to Mr. Hamilton and Philip. They took a few minutes to confirm any new details in documentation before she put her phone on speaker so that Simon and Finn could hear the good news.
“Congratulations, gentlemen,” Philip’s voice rang loud and clear. “We’re partners! Looking forward to working with you.”
Finn, Simon and Mr. Hamilton exchanged congratulations, and Emanuela turned the speaker off to talk with Philip. Finn didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but he was closing down a few programs and she was very close to his desk, wrapping up her conversation with her boss.
“Good work. You must have been up pretty late recalculating logistics,” Philip said.
“I was, but I think you’ll see that it was worth it.”
“I’m sure I will. We’ll celebrate when you get back! And Em…”
“Hmm?”
“You’re my best guy.”
“Thanks, Boss. See you Monday.”
Finn wondered at the familiarity he detected in the tone of the conversation. It was obvious Emanuela had earned the trust and respect of her employer. Nonetheless, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there might be something else between them. Though he tried not to let it bother him, he longed to get her all to himself, and hearing Philip’s endearment for her wasn’t helping matters. She was just an arm’s length away from him, and he was about to take that moment to ask her out again, but Simon got to them first. He stifled a groan.
Simon turned to Emanuela. “How about that, huh? I think this is cause for celebration! I’m meeting my husband for dinner later if you’d care to join us. Finn, you can come too.” He grinned.
The pained look on Finn’s face must have given him away, because her eyes grew glassy and black before she tore them away and offered Simon a polite smile. “That’s very kind of you, Doctor Faulk—”
“Call me Simon, Emanuela, if I may? You’ve seen my home and played with my toys so I’d like to think that we’re friends now.”
“Simon,” she said. “I have to take a rain check. I’ve already made plans for this evening. I’m a huge fan of your husband though, and I look forward to meeting Jamie soon.” This time she reached for Simon first, anticipating that he would give her one of his hugs.
“Until then, Emanuela,” he said with a final squeeze to her slim shoulders. “Finn?”
“I have some things to attend to myself, Sy,” Finn declined in a gruff voice.
Emanuela’s eyes met his briefly before they looked away again.
“All right, I’ll see you Monday!” Simon said, oblivious to the undercurrent between the pair.
The men shared an exuberant handshake-turned-hug, a gesture that drove it home that they had done it. They’d accomplished what they had set out to do in the face of constant rejection, and they would remember this day for years to come. The magnitude of the moment wasn’t lost on Finn, but he felt like he had been waiting no less than an eternity for the chance to be near Emanuela again in a way that would seem inappropriate to the rest of their group.
****
The door leading from the garage into the house had just clicked shut when Emanuela felt Finn’s presence behind her. Heat spread through her body. It started somewhere in her gut and sped its way to her throat, snatching the air from her lungs. She was frozen in place, waiting for him to make his move. Her skin tingled in anticipation, goosebumps rising on her arms. She tried to keep her breathing steady and even. The moment lasted seconds, maybe, but her mind took her back to Chicago eight months ago, back to the lounge where they were locked in the staring contest of a lifetime. That same charged air hummed between them. The same scent from his body permeated her senses and something inside her rejoiced to learn that it wasn’t courtesy soap. It was him.
Then, finally, he touched her.
They sighed in unison, his arms encircling her, his big hands spanning her abdomen before locking her into a long embrace. Her body relaxed, her head falling back to rest against his shoulder. She felt him turn his face into her hair, heard him breathe her in like a drag from a cigarette. His deep, shuddering breath caressed her ear, making her shiver.
She felt so secure in his arms, fitting his embrace like they were carved together. He hadn’t even spoken yet, and she felt her business veneer being stripped away. There was no need to pretend any longer that she didn’t want this, that she hadn’t been waiting for “tomorrow” to come when he’d ask her again. “Ask me,” she whispered.
He loosened his hold, but before she could whimper in disappointment, his hands were at her waist, turning her to face him. He raised her chin with two of his fingers, his eyes locked on hers. “Have dinner with me, Emanuela.”
His voice was so deep and rich, she felt like a wind instrument being filled with a soulful note. Every word resonated throughout her entire body and she found herself shivering again.
“I’d love to.” Her eyes fell to his lips. They had tensed in expectation of her answer and she wanted to kiss them until they were soft and pliant again. He seemed to read her thoughts and moved his face closer to hers when the front door slammed shut and startled them from their embrace.
Before he let her go, he asked, “Where are you staying?”
“The Edgewater. Do you know it?” She didn’t want to move away but did so anyway. She wasn’t ready to advertise…whatever this was…just yet.
“I do,” he said, returning her attaché and walking her out to her car.
They waved at Simon as he drove by and Finn held her arms in his hands.
“Pick you up at six.” He reached around her to open the door.
She nodded and, on impulse, tilted her head to brush a soft kiss against his jaw. She pulled back, her eyes drinking their leisurely fill of him. His jeans, crewneck tee, and curling waves gave him a boyish charm, but his size and stance showed he was all strength and charisma. She felt her face warm at the amusement in his eyes at her obvious appraisal.
“See you at six, Doctor Kane,” she said, teasing him with the formality. She slid into the seat with a devilish smile.
He leaned in until they were face to face. “I’m prepared to work for it, Emanuela.”
A furious blush rushed to her cheeks, and he grinned in smug satisfaction as he shut her door.