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“Look, I feel guilty about last night. If I hadn’t introduced you to Archer, if I hadn’t made you so angry at me...”
“It isn’t your fault.” She sighed, looked up, managed a quick smile. “What I told you was the truth. I’m an adult, and I take full responsibility for my actions. Accepting Archer’s dinner invitation was foolish. I’m to blame, not you. As for the personal ads... You’re right. They’re not for me.”
Jake smiled. The tendrils of hair he’d noticed this morning were still clinging to her temples. He reached out, touched one, watched as it curled around his finger.
“Good. I’d hate to end up paying a visit to each of those guys in that listing.”
Emily’s eyes widened. “Why would you do that?”
He shrugged, caught the curl between his thumb and index fingers, let it slide against his skin.
“To warn them that they’d have to answer to me, if they tried any funny stuff.”
She laughed. Her whole face lit up, when she laughed. How come he’d never noticed that before?
“Just what I need,” she said. “A bodyguard.”
“Yeah,” Jake said. His gaze dropped to her mouth, then returned to her eyes. “That’s what you need, all right.”
“Well, you can stop worrying. I promise, I won’t go out with anybody who describes himself as H, S, and S.”
“H, S, and S?”
“Handsome, sexy and successful. I figure it’s only a matter of time before those ads are all initials and numbers. You know, H, S and S, B and B, ISO for B, S and S... Jake? What are you doing?”
Slipping the clip from her hair, that’s what he was doing. He felt her shudder as he moved his fingers lightly again her scalp.
“Is this natural?”
“Is what natural?” she whispered. Her mouth was too dry for anything but a whisper.
“This.” He took a handful of her hair, let it sift through his hand. “The color. What do you call it?”
“What do you call the color of my hair?” Emily laughed nervously. “Brown. As in, ‘mouse.’”
“Brown, as in ‘sparrow,’” Jake murmured, and smile “I like it.” He leaned forward, took a sniff. “I like the smell too. What is it?”
Emily could feel her heart, pounding in her throat. “It’s—it’s just shampoo. Whatever was on sale last week.”
“Nice. Smells like sunshine and flowers.”
“Mr. McBride. Jake. I really have to leave, if I want to miss the worst of the subway rush—”
“What about the others?”
“The other what?” It was hard to talk. She wanted to shut her eyes, lean into his stroking hand, draw his scent of cold air and hot male deep into her lungs. “What others? The shampoos? I don’t know. I only buy whatever is—”
“The other guys you’ll date.” Jake shifted his weight. His body brushed hers. She felt soft. So soft. So wonderfully, marvelously soft. “What about them?”
“What about them?” she said, because the only way to respond to a question that made no sense was with an answer that made no sense. How could it, when she was feeling so strange? So warm. So liquid. So...
“The guys you’ll go out with. Those you’ll meet that I don’t know. How am I going to know they’re harmless?”
Emily stiffened. Jake McBride was leaning over her, smelling her hair, stroking her cheek, breathing in the same air she was breathing, and he was asking her about the men she intended to date?
How on earth had she let him maneuver her into such a situation?
Emily scowled, put a hand in the center of Jake’s chest and shoved him away.
“That’s easy,” she said crisply. “You won’t have to worry about a thing because I won’t be dating anybody.” He blinked. “What?”
“You heard me.” She dug into her coat pocket, took out a sensible wool scarf and wrapped it around her neck. Then she dug into the other pocket, took out a pair of sensible woolen gloves and pulled them on. “I’ve rethought things, Mr. McBride.”
“Jake,” he said automatically, while he stared at her and tried to figure out how he’d ended up playing with Emily Taylor’s very proper hair.
“Mr. McBride,” Emily corrected politely. “I really do it’s advisable to maintain decorum in the office, don’t you?”
“No. I mean, yes. Calling me by my first name doesn’t change office decorum. Actually, I don’t think I know another secretary who calls her boss ‘Mr.’”
