She’d be walking away from the life she’d always had and into the uncertain. Then again, there was no reason she had to stay if it didn’t work.
What if she got there and found herself stranded? She’d hop a plane back home. Or to another state, where her reputation wasn’t tarnished.
She didn’t know Antonio that well, despite the trust they’d built. Then again, she thought she knew Cynthia better than anyone, and look how that turned out.
He walked her to her car at the end of the evening, squeezed her hand as he saidgoodbye, and sent her on her way. He could be her ultimate Prince Charming. Except for the whole him-being-hung-up-on-another-guy thing.
Back at her motel, she tried to focus on getting something done. When that didn’t happen, she changed into the shorts and cami she slept in, climbed into bed early, and turned on the TV.
It droned on in the background, but Antonio’s offer had her attention. The clock crept past midnight then 1 a.m. Exhaustion gnawed at her limbs and senses, but sleep refused to come.
It was nearly two when her phone buzzed. She grabbed it and pulled up a new message from Justin.
Can we meet up?
She typed out an answer without thought.I’m up now, or tomorrow is fine.She included her room information. The rational part of her mind told her that might not be her smartest decision, but at least it was a decision. Something she didn’t have to fret over until all hours of the morning.
Twenty minutes later, there was a knock. She let Justin in. He looked as tired as she felt, but his blue eyes and scruff of beard were sexy as hell.
Before the door finished closing behind him, he cupped her face between his palms and crushed his mouth to hers. She whimpered against his lips. She grasped his T-shirt in both fists and held on for all she was worth. He backed her against the wall, sliding one hand to the back of her neck and holding her head captive. As he dipped his tongue into her mouth she tasted hints of coffee and mint, but no alcohol.
The intensity stole her breath and her thoughts, leaving her with the fear that letting go meant fluttering into oblivion and hanging on would burn her from the inside out.
He let go with a gasp and stepped back several feet.
As the cool air rushed around her, she was grateful one of them had hold of their senses.
“That’s not why I came over here. I swear.” His voice was hoarse.
God. This fervor with him was a new level of terror. “I get it.” She stepped around him and settled into the chair by her desk, not trusting herself on the bed. “What’s up?” A safe question. She hoped.
He stayed near the entrance. “I wanted to ask if you thought about my job offer. You were supposed to see the message in the morning, hem and haw about it, and then agree to meet face to face, so I could read your reactions and plead appropriately.”
His question overlapped and contrasted with Antonio’s. If the indecision was bad before, she was fucked now. This was the crossroads she’d feared—having to choose one or the other. She could side with safety and comfort and everything sweet, or opt for a heat and passion that would flare hot and burn out fast.
On the surface, that wasn’t what either man was asking. This was about work. She didn’t believe that, though. It didn’t matter what their intentions were; she doubted she could stay away from Justin any more than he could her.
“Emily?” He studied her, and concern hung in his voice.
What was she going to say? “I’m flattered you want me back, working with you.” As the answer hit her tongue, she didn’t question the decision. “You’ll do amazing things with Promiscuous Perks, or whatever you decide to call it, but I’ve got another offer.”
“I can beat whatever they’re paying.”
She couldn’t find the strength to tell him he really couldn’t. She shook her head.
“That’s fine. You’re a contractor. How long will you be with them? It’s going to take me a few months to get things off the ground. Can I snag the next spot in your work queue?”
“This isn’t a temporary position.” She had to tell him the truth. He deserved to know. “I have a job offer in Italy.”
“I see.” His expression went flat, and his voice matched it.
I’m sorrystuck in her throat. It didn’t seem like the right sentiment.
“If I’d asked you before he did?”
“You did ask me first. A week ago. I wish I could explain it.” She barely understood it herself.
“I get it. You do what you have to, for you.” He turned and left. Nogoodbye. No glance back.