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“I told her I wasn’t going to leave her.”
“But she still thinks she’s the last in a very long line of girls you’ve kissed and more than kissed?”
“The important thing is she knows she’s the last—the very last.”
“Why didn’t you tell her the truth? That she was the only one? She’d feel a lot more secure.”
His stomach churned. “It’s too late to tell her that now. I don’t even think she’d believe it.”
“Well, well, well! Are you such a hot kisser she couldn’t possibly believe she was your first?” Her voice rose in laughter.
“Maybe I am. It’s not funny.”
“Oh, yeah—it’s funny. But you’re getting yourself in big trouble because of your ego, brother. You better swallow it, and tell her the truth. If you’re not careful, you’re going to have a great big beautiful ring and no one to give it to.”
“Shut it. Okay? You haven’t told me yet if you’ll back up my story.”
When she smiled at him, he could have sworn she’d sprouted red horns and a forked tail. “Of course I’ll help you, dear brother. We’ll discuss your payment at a later time.”
Emily marched in the Marshall’s front door with a plan. Saturday, after she’d admitted to herself she was in love with Spencer and decided to end the kissing hiatus, he’d missed several obvious kissing opportunities. Either he was finally going along with her earlier no-kissing plan, or he’d lost interest. So tonight, she was going to get him alone and figure out what was going on. She wanted to tell him how she felt about him, stopping just short of saying she loved him. But she wasn’t going to say anything at all until she was positive he was still attracted to her. If Grace was right and he really did love her, then surely he would let her know.
She’d even stepped up her game in an effort to make herself a bit more difficult to resist. She had on a cute short skirt with some heels that made her long legs look even longer. Her top was tight enough to accentuate her slender figure although it wasn’t extremely low cut. Why bother with a plunging neckline when she didn’t have any cleavage to show off? She couldn’t compete with Betty Boobs. She’d even added a touch of mascara and some flavored lip-gloss. So her eyes looked enormous and her lips looked... Well, she hoped they looked irresistible.
She was disappointed when Grace met her at the door. She’d hoped Spencer might answer the door alone, and she might be able to use her allure to steal a quick kiss before dinner even started. Since she decided kissing was no longer against the rules, it was almost killing her not to do it.
“Hi, Emily.” Grace grabbed her arm, pulling her into the apartment. She gave her a speedy once-over. “You look great. Perfect, in fact. Absolutely perfect. Let’s go show you to Spencer.”
Before she could think to protest, Grace dragged her into the kitchen.
“Look, Spencer. Emily’s here,” announced Grace, pushing her toward him.
He turned around from the stove where he was sautéing onions and bell peppers. She was pleased to note his eyes widening as he surveyed her legs. “Hi, uhmm... Hi.”
“Good job, Cyrano.” Grace poured on the sarcasm. “I can see why you’re still waiting for the right time.” He glared at her as she departed the kitchen, her laughter trailing behind her.
“The right time for what?” Emily asked when she left them alone.
“Uhmm, she’s just being Grace. Giving me a hard time as usual. You... You look fantastic tonight. I mean, not that you don’t always look great. But tonight you look even more great.” His voice trailed off to a mumble at the end, his cheeks reddening.
“Your veggies are burning, I think.”
He whipped around. “Shoot! Oh, man! I guess they’ll be okay. Not all of them are burned.” He scraped the onions and peppers where they were blackened and adhering to the bottom of the pan.
“I’ll eat the burnt ones—I like them with a little char. Sorry I distracted you. Can I help?”
“Sure. Can you stir the beans while I get the fajita meat sliced? And then can you get out the sour cream and pico de gallo and serving spoons.”
“This is so great. Mexican food makes me feel like I’m home in Texas.”
“Do you miss it a lot?” His brows furrowed.
“Yes. I love Mexican food,” she teased.
“Yes, but do you miss Texas a lot?”
“I miss the grass and the trees and the wide open spaces. And strangely enough, I miss driving. I used to get a lot of thinking done while I was driving. Commuting on the subway somehow doesn’t lend itself to deep contemplation.”
“Solving the world’s problems?”
