“I’d like that,” she smiled.
He smiled too, and then he stuck out his tongue like a dog panting in relief. It was adorable.
This was the boy she remembered—tousled chestnut hair, crooked smile, the scar on his lip from when he fell down a pool slide at his summer house. And those eyes. Those grass-green eyes. Eyes that were wide and serious and always a bit sad. The last time she looked into them she was a child. But that was before. That little girl had missed him for fifteen years—that little girl who no longer existed. Still, she smiled at the thought.
“Something amusing?” He pulled her out of her trance.
“No. Sorry.”
Nathan seemed momentarily thrown as well, but he quickly shifted into easy command. She wondered if his facade was as phony as hers.
“Have a seat,” he looked at his computer screen, “Emily.”
All the color drained from her face. Did he remember Emily? Did he remember her?
“What did you say?”
He rechecked the screen. “Emma Leigh Porter. That’s what it says on your résumé. I assumed a Georgia girl would use her middle name too. Emma Leigh.”
“No, sir. Just Emma.”
“Okay then, Just Emma, have a seat. And call me Nathan. Officially.” He winked. “We’ll save the ‘sir.’ I’m assuming the next six weeks are going to get fairly intimate. We might as well start off on a first name basis.” If his comments were laced with sexual innuendo, he didn’t punctuate it with a look or gesture. He simply exited out of a document on his computer and shifted his attention to her.
The weight of his earnest stare had her shifting on her feet. When put in awkward situations, Emma had two go-to responses: aggression or flirtation. She fell into Siren-mode and twirled a pen between her lips. “Whatever you say,” she cooed. What happened next never happened. What almost always happened when she used her sexy, empty come-ons was the guy would either have to shift to cover an embarrassing physical response or he would just stare at her speechless.
Nathan laughed.
He burst out laughing, and Emma found herself joining him at the absolute absurdity of her behavior. He had been hit on by movie stars and royalty. She was obviously out leagued in the sexpot department, and he had more than his fair share of experience with women using their assets to manipulate him. She tossed the pen onto his desk. “Sorry. Bad habit.”
“Does that work for you? Wait, don’t answer that. I already know.”
“That depends on how you define ‘work.’”
“Yes, I see your point. Flirtation as intimidation, yes?”
She smiled. He understood right away. It occurred to her then that that was what Nathan had done the night before in his own way, resorted to sexual tactics to avoid revealing too much of himself.
“The best defense is a good offense.”
“So not a Giants fan then?” he quipped.
She laughed and gave her trained reply, “Falcons.” Then she added, “But secretly the Seahawks.”
Nathan had a strange look on his face, and Emma faltered. He’d had a signed Seahawks jersey on his bedroom wall when he was a kid, and she used to read the numbers on the jersey before she could read the name. One and four! He would high five her. Emma stiffened. She was slipping into Emily, something she never did. Ever. She needed to bring Emma Porter back, but she was having trouble containing that burning need inside of her to lead him to the truth.
“My dad spent a lot of time in Seattle when he was in the Navy. He’s a big fan,” Emma continued.
“Then why is it a secret?”
Nathan was suspicious, but she was sensing it wasn’t personal. It was his nature. That, and he ran a business that hinged on secrets. She sighed.
“I was being cute. Again. Thanks for noticing.”
He laughed. Again. Time to deflect. This was an interview, for God’s sake. She had every right to be asking him questions. God, this was awkward. They kneed and jerked their way through the conversation, and Emma hadn’t even started the interview.
“Could we please talk about you? I’m new at this, but I’m fairly certain you’re supposed to be the one answering questions at some point during the interview.”
“By all means, Ms. Porter.”