Promoted to Wife? (16 page)

She was in love with a man who was only supposed to be temporary. A physical distraction only.

She squeezed her eyes shut, determined to hold on to the moment instead of facing the reality for what it was.

Yet how could she not think about reality when Zac's hard body was pressed against her back, his hands splayed possessively under her breasts?

“Come with me to Cal's wedding,” Zac said softly, breaking the silence.

Emily paused, squeezing her eyes shut. “Why?”

“Because I want you there.”

And I want to be there. More than anything.
Instead, she bit her lip and remained silent.

At her silence, he gently turned her to face him, water swirling as she went. “Look, you're my assistant. No one's going to question you being with me.”

Great.
“It's not that.”

His expression told her he wasn't convinced. “So…?”

So why did it feel…bad? As if she was breaching the line they'd drawn. She was his bedmate, not his girlfriend. They didn't share anything except their bodies.

Not true,
a little voice inside reminded her.
There's trust. Professional respect. And he knows things about you, private things, and he's still here.

Yeah. But if he knew all of it, he'd run a mile.

“It's your brother's wedding, Zac. A private family gathering. Surely they wouldn't want—”

“I want.” He reached out and pulled her in, his mouth dipping down to hers. “There's no one else I'd trust to be there.”

Conflict warred briefly, until his lips skimmed hers and desire swiftly replaced it. Her eyelids sagged.
Where's your list when you need it?
Yet for the first time, she felt no urge to list those pros and cons because there was only one answer in her heart.

She was sick of letting fear and doubt shape her actions. He needed her. She'd be there.

“Okay,” she breathed. “I'll go.”

“Good.” He finally kissed her, yet despite the warm tenderness, trepidation still oozed through her body like an ever-growing toxic spill.

“W
hy is it,” AJ said casually as they ate lunch at Madison's in the Oasis Centre as the March heat scorched the sidewalk outside, “that no matter how many problems a relationship is having, couples can still overlook them to have sex?”

Emily followed her sister's eyes to the far table, where the guy and girl they'd been covertly watching argue were now deep in a passionate kiss. “Is that a question or a statement?”

AJ turned her bright blue gaze back to Emily. “I'm talking about you and Zac.”

“And
I
don't know what you're talking about.”

“Rubbish. You love him. And I'm assuming he has feelings for you, given the fact he's been your knight in shining armor at least twice now. But you haven't really talked, have you?”

“We don't have that kind of relationship.”

“Right. Let's recap, shall we?” AJ crossed her arms, pinning Emily with a firm look. “The Point One launch was a huge, glittery, publicity-laden hit. You made the man heaps of money and provided an in-depth report in favor of his new events division. He gives you a pair of the most amazing Louboutins
for Christmas, which, by the way, are worth hundreds. Then you pick me over Mr. Yummy for the holidays. So okay, I'm flattered—” AJ shook her head with a comical look of disbelief “—but in God's name, why?”

“I told you,” Emily muttered past a forkful of salad. “After the launch, I think people were beginning to suspect something.”

“Oh, please. You've been together for…” she mentally calculated “…close to four months—”

“—twenty-one weeks.”

AJ's brows went up with a smirk. “And it's just sex, huh? Right. I think you're just grasping at straws. Maybe you don't
want
it to work out.” She smiled as the waiter refreshed their empty water jug and the teenager smiled back, flushing as he left. Emily shook her head.

“How do you do it?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Do what?” AJ tossed a long lock of red hair over her shoulder and returned to her club sandwich.

“Make men fall at your feet.”

“Good genes, I guess.” She grinned, her mouth full. “Our mother was gorgeous before the drugs and booze ruined it. But back to you—why didn't you say something to Zac at the Point One launch?”

“You're kidding, right? I barely had time to breathe, let alone deal with any personal issues.”

“Okay, then…your New Year's Eve party? A perfect time after you've had a few drinks, loosened up…” AJ wiggled her eyebrows. “And there's that midnight kiss…?”

Emily shook her head. “We were in the penthouse suite of Point One—”

“Sounds promising.”

“—surrounded by Valhalla staff,” Emily finished pointedly. “We all ate, drank and watched the fireworks over Sydney Harbour. I avoided Zac—” or had he avoided
her?
“—went shopping with Megan and her girlfriends on the Sunday after, then came home a few days later.”

AJ snorted and sat back in her chair. “That's just dumb. Why hasn't he said anything?”

“Er, probably because he's fine with the way things are?”

“How could he be? What's not to love about you?” AJ's righteous indignation made Emily smile. “And why haven't you asked him?”

“You know why. I'm gutless about this stuff. I don't want to spoil the time we have left by ruining it. And anyway, I
know
him. Zac loves women. He never falls
in
love with one.”

AJ tossed down her sandwich and reached for a napkin. “Well, now you're just not giving the guy enough credit.”

“We agreed it's just about sex.”

“Since when is something ‘just about sex'? He makes you glow, Em. Look at you.” She eyed Emily's floral shift dress with approval. “All this
and
a decent pair of shoes. There's hope for you yet.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome.” AJ gently shoulder-bumped her sister. “And we both know it's more than clothes and looks. People can change—just look at me.”

Emily grinned despite herself.

AJ grabbed her water glass with a leisurely smile. “If a juvie runaway can come back from the brink of a glorious criminal career—” she waved her glass theatrically “—her sister can find a good guy who truly deserves her. Right?”

Emily shrugged, pushing a piece of tomato around on her plate in silence.

AJ sighed and covered Emily's hand with hers. “Em. This isn't something you need to pro-con, okay? Sometimes you just have to listen to your heart and leap right on in, regardless of the consequences. And—” she arched her eyebrows before spearing Emily's tomato with her fork “—that stupid office betting pool means squat when you're leaving in less than a month.”

Half an hour later, Emily avoided her reflection as the elevator returned her to the office. AJ had a point. Well, she amended as she unlocked the office door, AJ
always
had a point. But this time, Emily began to wonder if she was actually right.

She sat at her desk, then placed her purse in the drawer.

The months leading up to the Point One launch had flown.
Two weeks prior, she'd relocated to Sydney to oversee the preparations, and even with that temporary move she'd felt the keen stab of loss. Sure, she'd spent those fourteen days living and breathing work, yet with the breaking dawn, in the split second she struggled from deep sleep to slow awareness, she'd felt it in the huge hotel and the cool sheets: emptiness.

It was almost painful, the launch night. She'd watched Zac circulate, his powerful presence and barely contained elation commanding her eyes every time she glanced over. And when he'd singled her out, praising her work and congratulating her in front of that rich, influential crowd, his perfunctory kiss had seared a path across her burning cheek.

Hours later, just before sunrise, his exhilarating euphoria had only heightened their passionate reunion.

Tell him how you feel.

With a sigh, Emily grabbed a notepad and pen, then checked her phone messages. After noting the calls, she flicked the page and slowly drew a line down it, filling in the two columns with the familiar “pro-con.”

Every night her body rejoiced in his arms. During the day, the cracks had begun. The strain of the facade was beginning to tangle with her mind, winding her up into a tight mass of nerves.

Yet in public Zac was flawlessly—almost effortlessly—the epitome of the platonic boss.

What if she put it out there and he responded with indifference? Pity? A polite “thank you”? Worse, what if he called their arrangement off? She swallowed a spurt of panic. If time had flown these last few months, the weeks she had left would surely drag if he rejected her, especially when she'd agreed to go to his brother's wedding in two days' time.

Which reminded her…She clicked open a folder on her computer. She had to make a recommendation to the selection panel for her replacement.

When the office door swooshed open she glanced up, head crammed full of things to do, a pleasant smile on her lips.

That smile froze as a uniformed policeman walked in.

His bars indicated someone high up…a senior sergeant, or maybe a local area commander. Nervousness hit her stomach as she darted through worst-case scenarios.

Keep calm. Act normal.
She gritted her teeth. Great. Now she was channeling her mother.

“Can I help you, Officer?” she said calmly, shoving those memories aside.

The cop tucked his cap under one arm. “Is Zac around?”

“Let me check. Can I get your name?”

“Senior Sergeant Matthews.”

Emily rose fluidly, walked over to Zac's door, knocked, then went in.

“You have a policeman here to see you,” she said when he dragged his gaze from the computer screen.

He glanced past her shoulder and the small frown quickly spread into a smile.

“Tim!” Zac rose, hands braced on the desk. “What can I do for you?”

As the policeman walked past Emily, his expression grim, Zac's smile slowly dropped.

“Close the door behind you, thanks, Emily,” Zac said.

She did as he asked, then returned to her desk. Dread pooling in her stomach. This wasn't about her. It couldn't be.

And yet…She drew in a short breath. Something more serious than, say, a parking ticket would warrant a personal visit from a Senior Sergeant.

She heard Zac's muffled exclamation. Moments later, the cop emerged, his mouth flattened into a severe line.

Emily watched him leave, then swiveled back to Zac. His head shaking in disbelief as he stared at the papers in his hand.

“What's wrong?”

He pivoted and she quickly followed.

“Haylee issued me with an AVO.” He slapped the restraining order down on his desk, one hand on his hip.

“What?” She swiftly closed the door.

“An Apprehended Violence Order.”

“I know what it is.” She paused, struggling to remain calm
as outrage scorched the back of her throat. “This is payback, for the night she turned up at your house.”

He crumpled up the papers, hurling them across the room with a foul curse, but when she made a move toward him, the radiating waves of fury brought her to a stop.

“She's lying, Zac. We both know you didn't do anything.”

His jaw clenched, eyes blazing. “That won't matter—the accusation alone will be damage enough. I have to call Josh.” Zac had picked up the phone and was dialing.

“Zac,” she said louder. He ignored her.

She moved, swiftly cutting off his call, eliciting a furious scowl. It was painful to watch him struggle to get a handle on his emotions. Despite everything in her past, every crappy thing that had happened to make her who she was, she'd never wished she could turn back the hands of time so fervently as right now.

“I was there, remember?” she said. “And I'll sign whatever needs to be signed as your witness.”

His expression changed as the words sunk in. “You'd do that?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Why?” He frowned. “After we've gone to such lengths to keep us a secret?”

Because I love you.

Fear slammed into her with such a force that she took a step back, desperate to avoid his gaze. Instead she homed in on the discarded AVO.

“Because it's the right thing to do.” She walked over, picked up the papers and began smoothing them out, seeking calm in the rhythmic movement.

Zac stared at the papers she held out, his thoughts spiraling. She was actually going to step up and risk her privacy, possibly unveil her personal life to be scrutinized and gossiped about.

Yes, he wanted entry into that private room, but not like this.

He shook his head and took the papers. “No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“I have a solicitor. He can deal with it, make it go away.”

“How?” Her hands went to her hips. “You have to go to court, unless she decides to drop it—which I don't see happening. She's a woman scorned, Zac, and she wants to hurt you. And she'll do that by hurting your company.”

“You're giving her way too much credit.” He tossed the papers onto his desk. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a call to make.”

When she just glared at him and refused to budge, he glared right back. Yet beneath his irritation, a shot of admiration sparked. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes dark with righteous anger, her hands on her shapely hips, one leg thrust forward. Damn if she didn't look absolutely adorable right now.

“Emily,” he began.

“Fine.” She sighed before whirling and stalking out the door.

As expected, Josh Kerans was unavailable. So Zac called Andrew, his solicitor, who directed him not to approach Josh or Haylee. When Emily stuck her head in and asked for a long lunch, he nodded absently before trying to get back to business.

But a horrible feeling hijacked his thoughts, encroaching into work. He hated doing nothing, yet nothing was exactly what Andrew had instructed him to do. “Lie low for the rest of the week,” he'd said. “Go to your brother's wedding. I'll get us an expedited hearing date and we can refute everything in court.”

Which didn't placate him one bit.

 

They boarded their Sydney-bound flight early Friday morning, then an hour later switched at Sydney for the small country plane that would take them west to Parkes.

Emily remained silent as they drove through Gum Tree Falls, then down the dirt road to Jindalee, the outback spa resort where Cal and his fiancée were holding the ceremony. Sure, she'd anticipated Zac's mood wouldn't exactly be joyous, but this complete emotional shutdown was ominously disturbing.

Twice, she'd asked, “you okay?” and he'd replied with a nod and a short “yeah.”

Which did absolutely nothing to calm her worries.

Finally, at the end of a long dirt road, Jindalee appeared. The homestead sprawled across the land, the green corrugated iron roof glinting in the sun atop large slabbed and roughly mortared walls. The iron porch railing was decorated in loops of white and silver-blue organza, sprigs of silvery gum-tree leaves serving as bouquets in between. Large earthenware pots filled with banksias and waratahs flanked a blue carpet that ran across the small grassy yard, up the stairs and stopped at the huge wooden double doors.

Past the main homestead she caught a glimpse of the skeletal frame of a massive extension. To the left, another blue carpet led to the wedding marquee and beyond that, a handful of guest suites.

When Emily opened the car door, the late-afternoon heat slammed into her, stealing her breath. She paused for a moment, then exited, the familiar strains of classical music floating in on the warm breeze.

“Mozart's Concerto for Two Pianos,” she murmured, shoving a loose lock of hair behind her ears.