May the Best Man Win (12 page)

Emily let out a sigh of relief as her cab pulled to a stop in front of her building and Lena waved from where she was waiting in the main lobby. Throat going tight with emotion, Emily paid the driver. This was what friends were for. Real friends showed up in their pajamas, Uggs, and down parkas at ten thirty Sunday morning when they got dirty hookup exit texts.

She'd barely made it through the lobby doors when a bottle of pinot grigio and a duty-free-size Toblerone were wagging in front of her face, Lena grinning from beyond.

“Details, Emily. Every sordid one.”

Emily let out a weary laugh and waved her friend through the security door. “Mind if we get upstairs first, or should we just crisscross-applesauce it right here in the lobby? Drink straight from the bottle and go all
Lord of the Flies
on the chocolate?”

Lena was nodding. Apparently, either scenario worked for her.

Forty minutes later, Emily had exchanged her bridesmaid dress and heels for her own pj's and was toasting her toes in front of the fireplace as she licked Swiss chocolate, honey, and almond nougat goodness from her thumb.

“Oh, come on.
Over
, over? Like, for real done?” Lena cried, topping off Emily's glass with a generous pour. “But he was
so
very good at ruining you. Again and again and again.”

“That he was. But yes, it is.”

Offering up a pout that would put a six-year-old princess to shame, Lena slumped against the chair behind her. “Then what? Did you guys have a fight? Was he a jerk after?”

“No,” Emily grumbled, waving off her friend's concern. “Actually, we fought less than we ever had before.”

“So the spark is gone?”

Emily's thoughts drifted back to that last time in the hotel room, to Jase moving inside her, the look in his eyes so hot and possessive that she'd nearly combusted on the spot. Or maybe she actually had. Keeping track had gotten difficult.

“Never mind. I can see from the way your eyeballs are fogging up that it's not.” Lena raised a brow. “Seriously though, why not give it a shot?”

“Because it's just not like that with us.”

She'd trusted Jase Foster with her heart once, only to have him crush it. She'd given him her friendship, only to have him toss it aside like trash. And even though those things had happened over ten years ago when they'd both been young and both had made mistakes, she still wasn't interested in setting herself up for the disappointment—or hurt—that continuing with Jase would all but guarantee.

“Look, we've set aside our differences for the sake of lust, but we're not friends. We're not on the same page—ever.”

“Seems like maybe you're on the same page sometimes. Just sayin'.” Then Lena flashed a wicked grin. “I mean, cripes, Em. I'm starting to think maybe you should marry this guy. Because that look you get talking about him…” She shook her head and took a hearty sip of her wine. “I'm still in the honeymoon stage, and even I'm jealous of that look.”

Emily tried to muster some resentment toward Jase, wanting to blame him for not just ruining her, but also tainting that sacred honeymoon bliss for Lena and Dean. Only all the unreasonable wrath she'd usually been able to draw on at a moment's notice was nowhere to be found.

“Don't even joke about the marrying thing. The way you girls are dropping like flies, I'm starting to think it's something in the water. Besides, Jase and I agreed. We're done.”

“We'll see.” Breaking off another obscene chunk of chocolate for Emily and then one for herself, Lena shrugged. “I mean, this isn't the first time you thought it was
over
, over…right?”

* * *

“
Come on.
” Jase slugged his pillow, trying to get comfortable, but tired as he was, sleep remained just out of reach.

He knew who to blame.

Emily. She of the long legs and fractured breath at his ear. The one he wasn't even dating, but hadn't been able to get out of his head since he'd woken up with the scent of her hair on the pillow beside his. Writer of the note telling him to be out of the room before eleven.

He'd thought he was in the clear. Hell, he'd been ready to do cartwheels over how easy she'd made it for him to get back to non-Emily living. Only then it had started.

The stray thoughts—Had she worn that dress home? Was she feeling the effects of their marathon night together the way he was? Was it making her smile?

The impulses—Maybe he ought to text and make sure she got home okay…or call just to check that they were good after last night.

No. No way.

No phone calls. No texts.

He'd gotten through the whole day, but now as he lay in bed, nothing to keep his thoughts on the up and up, she was there again. Whispering his name, biting his shoulder, laughing in his arms.

Christ.

Grabbing the remote, he sat up and turned on the TV. Flipped channels until he landed on
Jurassic World
.

There she was again. Emily. Pushing into the front of his mind. Making him wonder whether she'd like this one or not.

After all, it had the thrills and big-budget appeal. The snappy dialogue and the added bonus of starring her screen boyfriend, Chris Pratt. He was pretty sure it would be right up her alley. Before he knew it, he had his phone out, her contact pulled up, and his thumb twitching in readiness to hit Dial.

Enough.

He didn't care what movies she liked.

He wasn't interested in a repeat of those few hours where he'd been able to hold her and laugh with her and… Shit.

He didn't want to watch a movie with Emily. End of story.

Except it wasn't. Because even when he'd switched to hockey, the Blackhawks beating the snot out of the Penguins wasn't enough to keep him from thinking about her. About whether she still liked hockey. If she ever got to a game. And if he took her to one, whether—

Okay, the idea of accidentally falling into bed with her again wasn't horrible. But based on the regularity with which those soft, brown eyes had been popping up in his thoughts throughout the day—and if he was totally honest with himself, before that—he knew better.

He'd read somewhere that doing something once could be considered an accident, twice a pattern, and three times meant you were looking at a habit. Emily had become his habit. His addiction. And like a junkie, he wanted another fix.

Which wasn't going to happen.

Finally, he turned off the TV, punched his pillow again, and told himself to chill the hell out, while reminding himself of all the reasons he wasn't interested in Emily Klein.

* * *

The thing about Janice Sagal was that not much got past her. With her no-nonsense attitude, intolerance for bullshit, and acute attention to detail, the wiry brunette was indispensable as Jase's assistant. One catch. Those keen powers of observation weren't limited to assisting Jase with private banking. Janice wanted in on his private
life
, a right she'd assured him she'd earned after taking down a certain unsavory message from one of his less-discreet girlfriends. And over the years they'd come to an understanding: Jase dished gossip and Janice ate it up, gave him nonstop flak about it, and did a phenomenal job on everything he asked her to and more.

What they had worked, and she'd become a confidante and true friend. One who took exception to being left out of the loop.

And Jase had definitely left her out of this one. For months, though it was really the last week that would have him in hot water.

Hence his use of the break room on sixteen instead of the one on seventeen, which was just down the hall from his office but frequented by Janice. Whom he'd been avoiding.

Downing the dregs of the coffee he'd been chugging since he arrived at quarter to eight, he sent up a silent prayer for his stomach lining and then headed back to his office. He had a meeting scheduled with the VP in twenty, so blowing past Janice without stopping to talk shouldn't trigger any alarms.

God, he was a pussy, but this stuff with Emily… Hell, he didn't need anyone reminding him about it when nearly a week after the fact he could barely go a half hour without thinking of her himself.

Janice was on the phone chewing some poor schmuck out over a screwup with the weekly reports when he walked past with a nod. She rolled her eyes at him in what was a pretty typical greeting, and he grinned as he slipped through his door.

Safe—or so he'd thought.

He'd barely sat down when she waddled through the door toward one of the open seats across from him.

He swallowed as guilty tension settled in his gut.

He was allowed to have a few secrets. He was a guy, for fuck's sake.

“Hey, Janice, what've you got?” he asked, watching uneasily as she lowered herself into the chair, her big baby belly making her movements more awkward and adorable every day. Not that he'd dare tell that to her face.

“Your meeting got canceled,” she announced, like the information he could have gotten by phone, email, or text was worth her making the trip into his office.

Not likely.

He waited, his tongue tucked against a molar, pretty sure he knew where this was going.

“So,” she started with a lengthy exhale he wasn't entirely sure was just for effect. “What's with the skulking around and dodging behind corners every time it looks like our paths are going to cross in the hall?”

Forcing a laugh, he shook his head. “
Skulking?
What?”

He'd totally been skulking.

“That's how you want to play it?” She made a gruff noise, pressed a hand to her belly, and readjusted in her chair. “Okay, fine. I heard someone saw you crawling out of a dark corner of a certain
church
this weekend…with the flames of hell licking at your feet, Jase. And yet, when we spoke
at length
about the wedding, you neglected to mention anything about a girl. The best part, Jase, and I have to hear it thirdhand.”

“That might be a little on the dramatic side.” Christ, who were her sources?

For a while he'd thought one of them was Sean. The guy was such a chronic kiss-up, and it gave him hives that he hadn't been able to win Janice over. But he hadn't even been at the wedding.

And neither had Molly, whom Janice adored and even met for lunch from time to time.

Brody and Max were possible, but he just couldn't see either of them calling Janice to whisper salacious somethings in her ear.

“Is it?” She looked like she was about to say more—really dig into him—but then she sort of froze up, her face going from white to red.

Oh no.

He knew better, but just couldn't help himself. “You okay, Jan?”

It was only a matter of time before that baby refused to settle for the tight quarters he'd been camped out in for the past seven months, but it was too soon. Jase had done a little reading and—

Narrowed eyes snapped to him, and he forced himself not to shrink back. “Don't you think I'd tell you if I wasn't all right?”

“How about I get you a glass of water or something?”

Her head turned from side to side in a slow warning he wasn't going to ignore. “How about you tell me who the woman at the wedding was, and we forget this whole thing?”

Christ, she knew how to play hardball. And he knew better than to resist. “Emily Klein. Bridesmaid for Sally Willson. We went to high school together.” And then, because he had to admit it to someone, he added, “We used to hang out.”

Janice suddenly looked a whole lot more comfortable. Still, he reached into his desk drawer and grabbed the bottle of water he had tucked inside. Cracking the top, he walked it around to Janice and then sat back on the desk, arms crossed. Waiting.

A shrewd smile stretched across her lips as she took a sip and nodded for him to go on, rubbing her belly like it was some kind of hairless cat.

Again. Not something to share.

But there was no getting out of this business with Emily. Not entirely.

“Anyway, you've gotten in too late in the game on this one, Jan. It's over.”

“That's too bad. Sounds like she was giving you a run for your money. Would have liked to see that, for a change.”

Jesus, who was feeding her this stuff?

“So you won't be seeing her again?” she asked, giving him that helpless-pregnant-lady look.

This time, Jase was shifting like he was the one with seven pounds of little human taking over his insides.

Janice's brow rose. “Jase?”

“Not exactly. I mean, I'll be seeing her at a wedding coming up. And I imagine there will be more after that. She's got about a million girlfriends. And somewhere along the line, they started marrying my guys. But that doesn't matter. Seeing her won't change anything.”

Janice just stared at him a moment with an expression on her face that he hadn't seen before. Didn't care for.

“We agreed, Janice. She's no more interested in continuing than I am.”

“Sure,” she offered, that look not budging a bit.

He wanted to demand to know what that look was supposed to mean, but he already did. She was calling him an ass and asking him what kind of fool he took her for.

“Nice,” he grumbled as Janice pushed awkwardly from her seat, then scowled at him as he helped her the rest of the way up.

“So when's this wedding?” she asked, making her way stiffly to the door.

“Three weeks. And in the name of full disclosure, I'll be seeing her at the rehearsal dinner too. But before you start watching the phone, waiting for your sources to dish, it's a plus-one thing. So we'll both have dates for both nights.”

“Oh, a date, like you took to Romeo's wedding…because that was a plus one too, wasn't it?” she asked, knowing full well it was and he hadn't.