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Jake almost laughed.
He could have taken the prim and proper Miss Taylor to bed one hundred and sixty miles ago. Back in the city, at his place. Or at hers. Or at some damned hotel, in a suite overlooking Central Park, if that was her preference. He could have had her anyplace but here, in a house that was his own personal hideaway from the real world.
He didn’t want her here. He didn’t want any woman here but, thanks to a momentary lapse in judgment, he sure as hell had one. And, as if that weren’t bad enough, it looked as if they might end up stuck here for at least part of tomorrow.
What would they talk about? What would they do when the sex was over? It wasn’t as if he’d never spent a whole weekend with a woman but it had always been in a place where there were things to do so you didn’t have to sit around, looking at each other. Besides, those women knew how to play the game.
Emily didn’t. She’d expect... What? Earnest conversation? An exchange of life stories?
Jake bit back a groan.
And come Monday morning, what would his life be like? Could he still walk into the office and greet her as if they were nothing more than two people who happened to work together?
No. Dammit, no. Women weren’t like that. They put on a good act, said they were the same as men, said sex was sex and that it didn’t have to be confused with love. And, he supposed, some of them even meant it.
Not Emily. Certainly, not Emily.
She was naive to a fault. She’d probably only been with a couple of men. Every instinct warned him that she’d turn this one night into more than it was, more than he’d ever meant it to be. If he’d had himself under control, he’d have figured that out a lot sooner.
And that was another thing. He didn’t like the feeling he had when he was around her, as if he weren’t quite in charge of his own destiny, because he was.
Of course he was.
If only the roads were clear. If only the snow weren’t coming down. If only he’d thought of all this before he’d asked her to come with him, before he’d started dreaming about her and yeah, okay, he dreamed about her, and wasn’t that a laugh? What kind of man had dreams like that, when he knew that there were a dozen beautiful women just waiting to do in reality what Emily only did in those dreams?
Jake glared out the windshield. The house was just ahead. Normally, he felt good just at the sight of it, but not tonight. One huge master suite with an oversized tub and shower, a den, a living room, a half bath the Realtor had insisted on calling a powder room, and a country kitchen.
It was plenty big enough for him, but for him and a woman? For him and Emily?
It was too late for turning back but not too late for regrets.
Jake reached to the dashboard, depressed the button for the automatic garage door opener. The doors rolled up; he drove the Corvette inside and shut off the engine. Okay. Time to make the best of a bad situation.
“Well,” he said, trying for pleasant and not quite making it, “here we are.”
Emily wrenched open her door. “Thank you for telling me,” she said coldly. “I’d never have figured it out if you hadn’t.”
Jake sighed. Oh, yeah. It was going to be a memorable night. It was just a good thing the sofa in the den was comfortable.
He walked ahead of her, unlocked the door that led from the garage into the kitchen. The house was dark and cold. He was half tempted to leave it that way. It suited his mood. But he did the right thing, turned up the thermostat, then went from room to room, switching on lights before returning to the kitchen.
Emily was still standing where he’d left her, her back to him. Jake thawed, just a little. She looked lost, small and lonely...
No, she didn’t. She turned around and she looked as if she’d been carved from the icicles that dangled from the eaves.
Okay, fine. That was the way she wanted it, that was the way it would be.
“I’ll bring in your things,” he snapped.
“What things? You mean, the stuff you bought today?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t bother. None of that’s mine. You picked it, you paid for it. You can return it.”
Jake peeled off his gloves, stuck them in the pockets of his leather jacket. “We’ve been all through this, remember? In Saks.”
“How could I forget? You made such a scene...”
“I simply said you were to consider the clothes a gift.”
“And I,” Emily said sharply, “told you that I wouldn’t.”
“Dammit, I am not going through this again. Buying all that stuff was my—”
Emily unbuttoned her coat and shrugged it off. Jake swallowed dryly. He’d almost forgotten how she looked in that rose-colored dress and those high-heeled leather boots.
