Back to December (Ward Sisters Book 1) (6 page)

Rob said, “What's wrong? Having second thoughts about me?”

Emily grinned. She was most definitely not having second thoughts about Rob. “Not exactly. But I did just realize how late it is and I have to be at work pretty early tomorrow. Don't forget, I'm here for an assignment.”

“Yes, you did say that. What you didn't say was what you do at that magazine which would require you to be up early. I thought writers were late risers?”

“Well, I'm technically a copy editor, so I don't get late days. And I don't know about anyone else, but I write better in the early morning. That's not why I have to be up early, though. I'm the magazine's liaison for the
Fluxus Gala and Opening
. I've got a bunch of last-minute things to do before the gala next week and then there is a bunch of stuff to do before the official opening of the retrospective.”

“So you work for
Art Wurks
.”

“Yeah, how did you know that?”

“Remember, I'm attending the gala and the opening. You should be my date,” Rob said with a nudge and a smile.

Emily was flattered and she felt herself blush. “You don't have a date already?”

“I usually decide who I'm taking to an event a week in advance. Most of the time, I take my mom or my sister if I don't have anyone in my life. My mom and sister have been to a
lot
of parties by now, so they know the drill.”

“I'd be honored to be your date.”

Just then, the limo door opened. It was Rick and he swiftly ushered them into the hotel. They made their way around to a private elevator, which apparently went to the penthouse. Rob and Emily stepped inside and Rick swiped his card. Emily asked where he was going, and Rob explained Rick would be upstairs at his post once he knew they were safely inside the suite. One of his guys would relieve him for the night in about an hour.

Rob had been holding her hand the whole time, and he finally let it go and turned to her. He put his hands on her hips and leaned back a bit so that he could look at her head on and not look down upon her.

“Do you want to stay the night? No strings. I won't expect you to sleep with me, Emily. I won't say no if that's what you want, but I won't pressure you. I'd love for you to stay and have breakfast with me in the morning. When Rick gets back tomorrow, he can escort you back to your room to change for work.”

It was a tough offer to refuse, though the old, cautious Emily was back and wanted to decline. New Emily made her at least give him a chance. “What would I wear to bed? And where would I sleep? Assuming I decide I don't want to sleep with you.”

He told her the penthouse had a couple extra bedroom suites and that he would gladly lend her something to wear.

She nodded. That seemed reasonable, even to Old Emily, but she insisted on concessions. “Okay, I'll stay. But I think I should be fair and tell you that, while I'd love to be the crazy, spontaneous girl who picks up a guy in a bar and goes home with him, I'm not. I'd really like for us to get to know each other a little more before I sleep with you. I hope you're not angry.”

Rob ran his fingers gently down her jaw. “How can I be mad about that when it's exactly why I'm so attracted to you in the first place? You'll still be my date for the gala though, right?”

Both Old and New Emily's heart exposed itself with a smile that showed how touched it was by the sentiment. As the elevator doors opened on the penthouse, Emily said, “Absolutely.”

Rob clicked on his phone and called Rick to let him know they were safe in the suite and that Em was staying for the night, but she'd like an escort at – he looked at her for an answer she gave with her fingers – “8 a.m. tomorrow. Yeah. Thanks. No, she turned me down. I'm sure my ego will survive. I'll see you in the morning. Kiss the kids for me, and tell them I'll see them in a few days.”

He held her gaze the whole time. She contemplated changing her mind about the sex, but she knew she'd regret it later. Besides, she thought it would be better to officially break up with Josh before she slept with anyone else. If he thought they were still a couple or still had a chance, he'd see that as cheating and so would her family. Emily didn't
want
to care what they thought, but it mattered.

They stepped into the living room and Rob excused himself for a few minutes. It gave Emily time to absorb her surroundings. Since they ran down that alley, she had been so overwhelmed with the circumstances of the night, she hadn't processed anything but Rob and her attraction to him. Even that needed further analysis. For the moment, she felt like she could relax a little bit and appreciate where she was.

If her room at The Debussy was a luxury bedroom, the penthouse was a sophisticated, grand apartment. From where she sat, she saw the entrance to a full kitchen and doors to what she suspected were the three bedroom suites. Like her own room, all the furnishings were in cream and burgundy, comfortable but elegant, and abundantly appointed with pillows.

The walls sported real chair rails, a tasteful burgundy paint, and art work that looked like they were originals or at the very least, high-end giclee prints. The ceilings were vaulted, comprising at least two stories, with murals painted in the coves, most of which were pastoral scenes. She supposed they were intended to mimic great European chateaus, but given that it was constructed this century, the owners had opted for secular, rather than religious. themes.

Emily was staring at the ceiling, trying to determine the artist's influence, when Rob returned. He held a bottle of champagne and two glasses in his hands, and had a t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants tossed over his shoulder. It was a contradiction if ever she'd seen one – the champagne looked like it belonged with the striking brunette man in the perfectly tailored jeans and cashmere sweater, but the relaxed look on his face said that the clothes over his shoulder were the ones he really loved. They appeared well-worn but still wearable.

“They're actually regional landscapes,” he said, gesturing with his chin toward the ceiling as his gaze shot briefly upward. “One of the things I love about staying here is that I get to look up at scenes from some of my best childhood memories every time I stay. The works on the wall are all originals, too. It's a local artist, Christin Willow, who got the commission for all this work. You'll probably meet her at the gala. She's a big patron of the Walker and a local celebrity.”

“So all this is original?” Emily rose from her spot on the plush, cream sofa to look at the works on the wall. As an art history major, she loved every chance to see the real deal, and it wasn't often that she saw it outside a museum or a gallery. She had not been born of privilege. Though she knew many artists in Portland, most of them had day jobs and were not self-supporting, so they sold everything they created.

“Not only original, but it was all commissioned specifically for this suite. When they built the hotel, the owners made a lot of effort to use local talent in every facet of the project. It's a real testament to the fact that talented artists and craftspeople live in the Midwest, too.”

Emily smiled at him and kept looking at the paintings. She admired the brushstrokes and the fact that the work had a completely different feel when it was observed up close versus from 10 or even 20 feet away. “She's very talented. I can see she has a good sense of both the big picture and the importance of detail. I really hope she'll be at the gala. I'd love to discuss her work with her.”

Rob gave her the grin she had started to feel was just for her. Her expression must have said,
What?
because he laughed softly and said, “I keep finding more layers I like under the ones I've already seen. You're like a great work of art yourself, do you know that?”

Emily blushed for what she thought must have been the hundredth time that night. “You certainly know how to flatter a girl.”

“I'm not trying to flatter you.” He walked up behind her and put his arms around her waist. “I meant every word I've said. I keep shaking my head and wondering how I got so lucky as to run into you earlier today.”

The last part he said into her ear as he kissed her neck. She began to melt into him and he turned her around, kissing her gently and pushing her hair away from her face. “If you'd like to keep looking at the art, I'll give you some time for that, but I promise that as long as I'm staying in the suite, you're welcome to come back and look more later.”

Emily chuckled. “Are you trying to get me to make out with you again instead of wandering through your suite like it's a gallery?”

“Guilty. Maybe I can entice you to the bedroom by telling you there are original photographs by Mitchom St. Clair in there.”

“Ah, is that a trick?”

“No, it's true. Each of the bedroom suites in the penthouse has original photographs by local artists. Mitch is originally from St. Paul, even though he lives in L.A. now.”

“Mitch? What, do you know him?” She wasn't sure she'd ever get used to hanging around famous people. Rob was so normal in so many ways, he just didn't seem like he was famous himself, let alone that he moved in those type of circles.

“Yeah, actually, he's my neighbor in L.A. We had the same real estate agent and that's how we met. He's a great guy. A little bit of a hippie, but I'm sure you knew that, right? You might not have known anything about
me,
but I'm sure you studied Mitch in school.”

Slightly embarrassed that her pop culture knowledge made her seem a little more elitist than she really was, Emily blushed again, but this time, it wasn't due to flattery. She felt like she should explain herself, though she hadn't thought he was insulting her.

“You have to understand, my life for the past seven years has been all about art, except the parts that were about Josh and my family. And since Josh is not all that interested in pop culture of any sort unless it involves nature or machines that drive through it, I wouldn't have absorbed by osmosis anything about movies or celebrity. What little I've heard or seen has been brief glimpses on TV or from my sister, Charlie, who is a closet tabloid junkie. It's one of the habits she shares with my mom, and over the years, I've learned to tune them out when they discuss who is sleeping with whom and who is having a baby or going to rehab or having a baby in rehab. So, no offense, but that world just wasn't a priority unless it impacted my career.”

Rob laughed. “Believe me, I'm the last person to be offended that someone doesn't care about the lies and half-truths those so-called magazines print. I have an assistant whose job is to keep on top of that stuff so I'm not blindsided in interviews or on the street by some made-up story or conveniently-edited comment.”

He took her hand and led her to the door farthest from the living room. “And I'm actually glad to meet someone who helps me feel like a real person again and who can appreciate the stuff on these walls as much as I do. It's been years since I met anyone who wasn't awed by my job or celebrity or didn't seem like they were trying to get something from me. You have been a refreshing breath of clean air in the L.A. smog that is most of my life.”

He reached in and turned on a light, then gestured for her to enter the bedroom first. “This is your room for as long as I'm here, if that's what you want. Why don't you get changed and check out the photos – the ones in this room are Dina Hemingway – and then you can meet me back in the living room and we'll open that champagne.” He handed her the clothes – his clothes – kissed her forehead, then shut the door.

Emily was in awe of the work on the wall. Larger-than-life images of the tiniest details, which gave the photos a modernist look, could be recognized as some of the pieces of everyday life if pondered for a moment. There was one particularly striking image of a tree full of flowers as seen through the tines of a fork so close that they seemed like a jail cell. It hung over the bed, and the stark decor of the room (all cream, with no burgundy in sight), gave it the sterile feeling of a prison cell, until you realized what the image was, and then it felt like floating on a cloud as you looked through your fork during the perfect summer picnic.

It reminded Emily why she loved art so much – it could provoke such powerful and conflicting emotions.

She undressed slowly as she observed the other photos in the room, taking her time, not just to view the work, but to think about the conflicting feelings she was having about Rob. Should she really just jump right into something, however brief, with a practical stranger, when things were so unsettled with Josh?

On the other hand, she had never felt this visceral a connection to someone in such a short period of time. And while things were not officially over with Josh, she realized now that they had been over in her mind for a while. Otherwise, she knew she could not have kissed Rob tonight without feeling guilty.

Until today, she hadn't even wanted to kiss another man in all the time she had been with Josh. That seemed to speak volumes about the man halfway across the country
and
the one in the other room, waiting for her to change her mind. She felt like she already knew what she needed to say to them both.

Only one of them would be happy to hear it.

Rob was a big man and Emily swam in his clothes. She had to roll the sweat pants at the waist a couple times so they wouldn't fall off her, and they still sank to her hips. The t-shirt was so long that it fit her like a mini-dress, albeit not one she'd ever wear in public. She had to laugh at the X-Men logo on the shirt. It had seen a lot of real wear, and she thought he must have had it for a long time. He was a closet geek, she realized, and that made Emily like Rob even more.

She'd always had a soft spot for geeks.

She opened the door and walked back into the living room, but didn't see Rob. One of the other doors was closed and she debated whether or not she should see if he was in the bedroom that must be his own. What would she do if he told her to come inside and he was sprawled on the bed naked? Would she run away screaming or would she jump him? Even the thought made her blush.

Just as she hesitated at the door to knock, he opened the door casually and jumped when he saw her there. “Sorry. I, um...”

He laughed. “Were you afraid I was naked in here and weren't sure if you should open the door or not?” When she didn't respond and her mouth dropped open, he said, “Your face, remember. You're very transparent. I like that. It means you'll always have a hard time lying to me. That's another refreshing thing. Usually, I only feel that certain with my family. Almost everyone in my business will tell you what you want to hear if they have to do it. I've got very few friends I can truly trust. Come on. Let's go have that champagne while it's still cold.”

They spent the next hour or so sipping a delicious champagne and talking about the galleries they had seen. Emily told him about her summer in Italy junior year and she was shocked to hear how little he had seen on his travels. Though he had been all over the world, he was so busy when he was away that it was rare for Rob to get a chance to actually see the place where he was staying. He was either on a movie set, attending a film festival, or promoting a project.