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
