The Seduction Request (8 page)

“Alex may be trusting, but I know you too well, Conway. You want to get me away from here so you can get me into bed.”

“Not true,” he said, and at her look of complete disbelief, added, “Not
entirely
true. I'd just like to spend time with you.”

She would love to go away with him. But not if
this was some quest to soften her up. She didn't know if she had the strength to fight it anymore.

God, she was having trouble remembering
why
she was fighting it.

Oh yeah, because she would fall in love with him again, and he would leave, and she would be devastated.

“Can you promise that you will not under any circumstances try to seduce me?” she asked. “Promise that this vacation will be one hundred percent platonic.”

When he didn't answer, disappointment burned deep. At least he was honest. He could very easily lie to get what he wanted, but that wasn't Matt's style. If things were different, if they both had very different lives, they might have been good together.

And they both knew it.

He seemed to realize it was a lost cause, and stepped away from the door. It wasn't like him to give up so easily and she felt equal parts relieved and disappointed. She climbed in and started the engine.

He leaned in the open window. “Think about it. If you change your mind, call my cell phone.”

Because he looked so hopeful, and completely irresistible, she leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek before she drove away.

 

Emily climbed out of the truck and stretched her stiff limbs, inhaling the earthy scents of pine and moss and feeling an odd mix of emotions—the way she always felt when she came up to her parents' cottage. She relished the peace that came with submersing herself in nature, yet this place held so many
memories. Some full of laughter and fun, others bittersweet. She'd experienced the best and worst times of her life here.

The best, when Matt had made love to her on the beach, the worst when she woke the following morning, her heart swelled to capacity, only to have a “talk.” She'd been back dozens of times since, and still experienced that sense of loss. Maybe it would never go away.

She grabbed her things from the front seat and let herself into the cottage. Exhausted from the three-hour drive, she tossed her bag in her bedroom to unpack later. Right now she was going to take advantage of the last few hours of afternoon sun and lie out on the beach. Later she would go into town and buy a few supplies.

Alone, a voice echoed in her head.

Yeah, so what. It wouldn't be the first time she'd come here alone, and it probably wouldn't be the last.

And what, that was supposed to make her feel better?

She peeled her clothes off, fighting a wave of loneliness despite her internal pep talk. She couldn't help wondering what Matt was up to. Where had he gone? His villa in Italy? His condo in Cancun? And who was he with? Had he found someone else to keep him company? Someone willing to do what Emily wasn't?

She tried to convince herself she didn't care, but that didn't take away the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. What an impossible situation. Two people who were hopelessly attracted and completely wrong for each other.

She wrapped herself in a beach blanket, slipped her sandals on, and headed outside. She followed the narrow trail through the trees and down to the lake. As she emerged from the dense foliage onto the sandy cove, sunshine wrapped around her, warming her bare arms and shoulders. With her father semi-retired, her parents came up regularly during the summer months, sometimes for weeks at a time. The boat was parked in the slip next to the dock, and she was sure there were sodas and beer in the fridge. The freezer would be stocked with steaks and burgers ready to barbecue.

Emily kicked off her sandals and dug her toes into the hot sand. Though their own stretch of beach was secluded and private, the lake was alive with activity. Jet Skis and motor boats cut foamy paths through the water. The playful shouts of children swimming and splashing traveled on the breeze.

Emily knelt down in the sand and unfolded herself from the blanket. Boats rarely ventured so close that someone would see she was naked. And if one did, she would hear its engine and have plenty of time to cover herself.

She stretched out on her stomach, her gaze drawn to the fire pit, to the spot where Matt had made love to her. She felt that familiar pull of longing.

Even though it had been her first time, and she'd heard countless horror stories about the pain, she hadn't been the least bit afraid. She'd spent more hours than she could count daydreaming about that moment. Wishing for it with all of her heart. She couldn't have been more ready and Matt had been unbelievably sweet and gentle with her. It might have been her imagination, or maybe just wishful thinking,
but at the time she could have sworn he'd been nervous. Matt, who was rumored to have scored with dozens of girls.

The second time had been different. She'd been even bolder and he'd been much more aggressive. Not rough, but not exactly gentle either. He was suddenly the Matt she'd heard rumors about in the girls' locker room. The one who knew exactly what to do to drive a girl crazy. He'd touched her in ways that to this day made her feel that same hot restlessness in her limbs. A deep longing, an ache no one else had been able to relieve.

By the third time, she'd chucked the last of her inhibitions. Her only goal had been to give him the same bone-deep satisfaction he'd made her feel. When the fire died and they'd gone back to the cottage, there had been very little left unexplored. They knew each other more intimately than she thought two people could. She had lain in bed afterward, reliving it all in her head, committing each second to memory.

She thought she'd gotten over him. Now that he was back, she wasn't sure what to feel anymore. He wanted to be friends. He wanted her to visit him in California.

And he wanted sex.

And heaven knows, so did she. Maybe she was being silly telling him no. They were both consenting adults. What was she proving, staying up here at the cottage all by herself? That she could manage on her own? She already knew that. She'd been doing it for years. For
too
long.

As if she'd conjured him up by sheer will alone, Emily heard the low rumble of Matt's voice behind her.

“Now I see why you don't have tan lines.”

M
att watched as Emily shrieked in surprise and yanked the edges of the blanket around herself. She needn't have bothered. He'd been standing there long enough to see everything. And a little longer to commit it all to memory. Now that he'd seen all of that gloriously tanned and flawless skin, his desire for her had multiplied to an aching need. A need not only to lay her out beneath him and bury himself deep inside her, but to feel that closeness, that connection he'd felt only with her.

“What the hell are you doing here, Conway?”

He flashed her a wide grin. “Fishing.”

She tucked the blanket tightly around herself and rose to her feet. “You
followed
me?”

“Look me in the eye and tell me you're not happy to see me. That you wanted to stay up here all by yourself.”

She shoved her feet into her sandals and stomped past him. “That's not the point.”

On the contrary, that was exactly the point.

He followed her through the woods to the cottage, a grin on his face. He'd seen the flash of excitement when she'd first turned around. She was happy to see him, and trying awfully hard to hide it. “I didn't have to follow you. I knew you would come here.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“It was the first place I thought of, too.”

There was the slightest hesitation in her step, and he knew his words had hit their mark. He followed her into the cottage and to her bedroom. He leaned in the doorway while she rummaged through a duffel bag for clothes, reminded of one of the things he'd always liked about her. She could throw a couple of days' worth of clothes together in less than ten minutes and didn't need a ten-piece set of luggage to carry it all. He'd never dated a woman who wasn't severely high-maintenance. Even in high school. It had him wondering what it was about him that attracted that kind of woman. And what it was about that kind of woman that he found attractive, because honestly, the luggage thing really annoyed him.

It occurred to him that Emily was the complete opposite of everything he normally looked for in a woman. Which made him wonder if he wasn't deliberately dating women he knew would irritate him.

“If you're only here to get me into bed, you might as well leave right now,” she said, her back to him.

“I told you before, I want us to be friends. When I leave Michigan, I want us to continue that friendship.” Why was it every time he thought about going back to L.A.—his home—he felt utterly empty?

She turned to him, eyes scrutinizing. “So, you're saying you no longer want to get me into bed?”

“Do I want you, Em? Yeah, I do. But if friendship is all you can give me right now, that will have to be enough.” He took a step toward her, but hung back just far enough so the move wouldn't come off as overtly sexual. He wished she'd drop the blanket so he could see that nipple ring. It was all he'd thought about on the way up.

“Let me stay, Em.”

“You promise you won't try to get me into bed?”

He could be wrong, but he had the distinct feeling that by saying “bed,” she was leaving open a hell of a lot of options. Or was he letting his imagination get the best of him?

“I promise.”

For a long moment she only stared at him, and finally she said, “We'll need supplies. We'll have to go into town for groceries and bait.”

She was letting him stay. A slow grin spread across his face. She was as good as his.

She just didn't know it yet.

 

Matt followed Emily down the aisle of the country market in town. Talk about a blast from the past. A typical mom-and-pop establishment, little had changed in here in the last decade. And while it still boasted decor reminiscent of the Brady era, it was clean and the selection surprisingly diverse for its remote location.

And like so many other things pertaining to his past, he'd missed it more than he realized.

“We should get cereal for breakfast,” Emily said,
swiping a box of Kangaroo Crunch off the store shelf.

Matt took the box from her and read the nutritional chart. “Do you know how much sugar is in this?”

“Well, yeah, that's kind of the point. How else am I going to wake up at four in the morning?” She grabbed a package of iced pastries and tossed those in the cart as well.

“You mean women actually eat this stuff? I thought all you ate was lettuce and tofu.”

Emily shrugged. “I have big hips and no diet in the world is going to change that. I may as well enjoy eating.”

“Emily, do you know what I find most appealing about you? The fact that you actually have hips. You have meat on your bones.” At the odd look she gave him, he added, “That's a compliment.”

“I wasn't sure.”

She really didn't have a clue how attractive she was. She had no idea how tough it was to stand within a few feet and not touch her, not undress her with his eyes. He was trying really hard not to do anything blatantly sexual. He didn't want to do anything to scare her off. But, damn, it was hard not to touch her.

Take it slow, he reminded himself.

“Believe it or not,” he said, “I'm tired of dating women who look as though a strong breeze could knock them over. The kind who excuse themselves to the rest room to throw up after every meal.”

She gave him a “yeah, right” look.

“I'm serious. I've taken women out to dinners in five-star restaurants, where you can drop three or four hundred easy on dinner. Double that if they want
champagne. There's a reason they're trotting off to the john between every course. I once dated a model who actually excused herself to throw up after dinner.”

Emily made a face. “Yuck. You run with an interesting crowd, Conway.”

“I don't exactly run with anyone. They just kind of…attach themselves to me.”

Emily grabbed a loaf of wheat bread from the shelf—the first healthy thing she'd picked up. “People respect you. They want to be around you.”

“They respect who they think I am.”

“How do you expect them to see you for who you really are unless you let them?”

“And what if, when I let them see the real me, they aren't so impressed anymore?” He winced at his own words. That didn't come out the way he'd meant it to.

A slow smile spread across Emily's face. “I'll be damned. He is still in there.”

“Who?”

“The Matt I knew when we were kids. The one who looked self-confident, like he owned the world, but on the inside felt like he never quite measured up.”

Her words stunned him.

She was wrong. He simply valued his privacy and was particular about who he let into his life. He'd left those insecurities behind when he left Michigan.

Hadn't he?

“It's okay,” she said. “I liked the old Matt.”

Troubled by her words, Matt followed behind her as she picked out packaged lunch meat and cheese,
then onto the register where she added half a dozen chocolate bars to the cart.

“That should about cover it,” she said, as the cashier rang it all up.

Matt pulled out his wallet.

“I'll get this,” she said.

“The hell you will. It goes against the natural order of the sexes. The man pays for the food.”

She rolled her eyes. “Spare me the sexist bull, Conway.”

“Sexist bull or not, it's the way I do things.”

Emily frowned. “I don't like the idea of you buying me stuff.”

“Yeah, well I don't like you buying me stuff either.”

The cashier looked back and forth between them as if they were seriously disturbed. “Someone has to pay for it.”

“We could share the cost,” Emily reasoned.

“Yeah, okay,” he agreed, because he was pretty sure arguing would get him nowhere. She was struggling to make ends meet, yet she still wouldn't let him pay for the damned food. She was definitely unlike any woman he'd ever dated. He found himself appreciating that fact more every minute he spent with her.

They split the cost of the groceries, packed it in the truck and headed back to the lake. He steered the truck back down the long, tree-lined dirt lane. He'd been there so many times in his youth he could have driven blindfolded. The log-cabin-style cottage, tucked deep into the woods, looked exactly as it had when they were kids. Beyond the cabin he could see glimpses of shimmering blue lake between the trees.
The scent of pine and earth and the warm breeze rustling the leaves greeted him like a long-lost friend. That it felt so good to be back surprised him. He'd missed so many things about his old life, but hadn't realized it until he'd come home.

“We should load the fishing supplies into the boat today so we can get an early start in the morning,” Emily said as they carried the groceries in.

“Is it all still in the shed out back?”

“Should be.”

“You put the groceries away, I'll take care of the fishing stuff.”

She propped a hand on one hip. “Let me guess. Putting groceries away is women's work?”

He flashed her an easy smile, one that said she'd hit the nail on the head, and headed out the door. His ideas were borderline chauvinist, yet she couldn't muster a bit of anger. Men typically saw her as one of the guys and treated her accordingly. They didn't open doors, or pay for meals. And they sure as hell didn't look at her as though they wanted to rip her clothes off and ravage her—the way Matt had been looking at her on the beach. Of course, she hadn't had any clothes to rip off, had she?

He didn't seem to notice that she was about as far from supermodel material as a girl could get. Yet there was no question, their desire was mutual. But for how long? Should this ever progress past a brief fling, if say, he asked her to go back to California with him, one day he was going to look at her and realize she was all wrong. He would have some fancy event he would want to take her to and discover she wasn't, and never would be, arm-dressing.

Besides, she thought as she put the last of the gro
ceries away, she didn't want to leave Michigan. She had plans. Her family and friends were here. It was home to her. She wasn't sure she could give that up for anyone. Not even Matt. Not anymore.

She headed outside and down to the beach. Matt was still on the boat, so she waded out calf-deep into the water, feeling inexplicably sad. Why, when a relationship was destined to fail, did she still yearn for it?

“Is the water cold?”

Emily turned to see Matt walking across the sand toward her. “Not too cold.”

He kicked his sandals off and waded into the water beside her. “Everything looks the same.”

She gazed around. Nothing ever seemed to change up here, yet everything was different this time.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she lied. Well, it wasn't a complete lie. She was only slightly not okay. “Why?”

He tucked his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “You had kind of a funny look on your face. You looked…sad, I guess.”

Her attention naturally strayed to the fire pit, and he followed with his own eyes.

“Having regrets?” he asked.

“There's nothing about that night I regret, Matt. Do you regret it?”

How could he regret the most amazing experience of his life? How could he regret connecting, bonding so deeply with another person? “Never. I just regret that I hurt you.”

She nodded. “Yeah, that part did suck.”

“Maybe someday, in a couple of years, when things settle down for me…”

“Be still my heart.” She clasped a hand to her breast and adopted a horrible Southern drawl. “I shall wait till the end of time for you to return.”

“Too much to ask, huh?” Kind of like having his cake and eating it, too. As he'd reminded himself so many times over the years, she deserved better. “Is it because of Alex?”

“Alex is very special.”

The next words were almost impossible for him to squeeze out. “Do you love him?”

Her foot swung like a pendulum through the surf. “He's my best friend. He keeps me sane.”

Jealousy twisted him in knots. Even worse than the thought of Emily having an intimate relationship with someone else was the thought that he'd been replaced as her best friend. He wanted to fill that spot. He wanted it so badly it was painful. Maybe she just didn't have room for him in her life anymore.

Well, dammit, she would have to make room, because he wanted back in, and he wasn't taking no for an answer. He
needed
her. He was no longer doing this for Emily's family. Or even for Emily. This was all about him, what
he
wanted.

Now all he had to do was figure out exactly what that was.

“Why don't we put on our suits and go swimming before we make dinner?” she said, obviously ready for a conversation change.

“Who needs suits?” Matt said. He peeled his shirt off and tossed it onto the sand. Emily's eyes widened, as if she thought he might strip down naked right in front of her. He would if that's what she wanted. “We can wear our clothes.”

“Our clothes?”

“I remember you used to love jumping off the dock in your clothes.”

“Conway, the only time I ever went off the dock in my clothes is when you threw me—” Recognition darkened her eyes and she began to back away from him, onto the sand. “You wouldn't.”

With an evil grin, he began to mirror her steps. “What kind of vacation would this be if I didn't throw you off the dock, Emily? It's tradition.”

“That's one tradition I can do without, thank you.” She turned and started to run, and while she was damned fast, even with a bum knee he was faster. With little effort he caught up to her. He hooked an arm around her waist and swooped her lithe form up and over his shoulder.

She screamed and kicked but was laughing too hard to put up much of a fight, as she had when they were kids. “Let me go, Conway!”