She's With Stupid Page 8

  Emilie blushed at the mention of Leo and quickly shook her head. “Don’t be silly. I just wanted to look nice for your party.”

  Kate glanced at Lana, who surreptitiously shook her head, and raised an eyebrow at Emilie. “Uh-huh. Well, you really succeeded,” she said sarcastically.

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out who Emilie was trying to impress. Poor Ethan didn’t know what was about to hit him.

  As they wandered to the left of the stairs and into the living room where the guests who had already arrived were mingling, Lana saw Emilie sneak a furtive glance towards the fireplace before she quickly averted her eyes and moved further into the room to hug her mother. Lana paused in the doorway to look in the direction Emilie’s gaze had strayed and saw Ethan leaning negligently against Evelyn’s fireplace while a woman in a pink mini dress babbled in his ear.

  Six foot-three, well-muscled from years in the military, and wearing dark jeans and a white button down that hugged his body in all the right places, Ethan was definitely just as hot as Lana remembered. His dark hair was cut close to his head, probably in an attempt to tame the waviness, but it was long enough to allow an errant lock to fall over his left eye. Also, his chiseled features must have been carved when God was in a good mood because the man could easily have posed for a Greek statue. One of the naked ones.

  Lana sighed with amused regret. It was a shame he’d only ever had eyes for Emilie.

  She knew the second Ethan caught sight of his erstwhile ladylove because his posture straightened, his mouth fell open, and Lana could have sworn she saw his pupils dilating as he slowly ran his gaze from the top of Emilie’s head all the way to the tips of her pointy shoes. Then he gave each detail the same rapt attention as his eyes moved back up.

  Emilie was spared his perusal, distracted as she was by a conversation with her mother regarding the length of her dress. Lauren Thatcher was shaking her head with dismay as she pretended to give her daughter’s hemline a tug. Emilie was making a half-hearted attempt to avoid her mother’s fussing, so she didn’t seem to have taken notice of Ethan’s intense regard. Yet.

  A person would have had to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to see that Ethan was still just as fascinated with Emilie as she had always been with him. Lana stole another glance at Emilie and contemplated for the hundredth time since finding her stranded and distraught in the middle of her bedroom an hour ago just what had happened between the two of them. Because, as far as she knew, they had been practically inseparable until Ethan had made the unfortunate transition from boy to guy.

  Lana could still remember coming upon the two of them one hot July night —they couldn’t have been more than thirteen because Emilie had still been growing out her bangs. Lana had been halted in her search for the perfect place to sketch fireflies when she noticed them sitting by the lake, the moonlight reflecting off the water to cast a soft blue light onto the pair. Their strange stillness had captured her attention, and Lana had found herself silently watching from the shadows, somehow knowing that her presence would not be welcome. Emilie had been sitting between Ethan’s raised knees, reading from a fairy tale book they’d found in Aunt Olive’s attic, and Ethan’s chin had been propped on the top of her head while he toyed absently with her hair and listened to Emilie’s soft voice. When Emilie had looked up from the story to cast a contented smile over her shoulder, Ethan had bent to place a soft kiss on her forehead, another on the tip of her nose, and then finally a deep, lingering kiss on her mouth.

  Lana still remembered it vividly because, even then, she had known that she was eavesdropping on something incredibly intimate. She’d never mentioned what she had seen to Emilie, and by the next summer everything had changed so drastically that Lana almost wondered if she had only imagined what she saw that evening by the lake.

  She was jolted out of her memories by the arrival of Emilie’s actual date, who slinked into the room like a very pretty golden snake and crept up behind Emilie. He shouted “Boo!” in her ear, causing poor Emilie to nearly fall out of her heels, and when she turned and gave him a frown rather than a kiss, Leo pouted much like the overgrown child Lana was starting to think he was.

  Nearly every time she had seen him at the apartment he had been terribly bland and harmless, so Lana couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was about him that irked her. Possibly, it was the fact that Emilie seemed to be hiding behind what she saw as a “safe” guy in order to avoid facing up to her feelings for the “potentially dangerous” guy over by the fireplace.

  Lana was trying to steal another glance at Ethan when she was jostled from behind by an excited Kate. “Did you see the look on Ethan’s face when Leo showed up?” she chortled. “It was perfect.”

  Giving up on discretion, Lana craned her neck towards the fireplace and felt her eyes widen. Wow. Ethan looked fairly…menacing. His dark brows were lowered over his eyes in a scowl and his arms were crossed forbiddingly over his chest. The girl in pink seemed increasingly confused, though Ethan didn’t appear to notice or care. His attention was fixed exclusively on Emilie and the rest of the people in the room might as well have disappeared.

  Lana grinned. This was a fabulous party.

  On the other side of the room, Ethan Drake fumed at the unwelcome appearance of the little twerp currently pawing at Emmy. Though he made a frantic attempt to get his bearings, he had a feeling he wasn’t going to succeed —when Emilie had stepped into the room, Ethan had felt it like a punch to the gut and then everything inside him had gone still.

  Now questions were flooding his mind at an alarming pace, first and foremost among them: When had she gotten so pretty? This was quickly followed by: What the hell did she think she was doing, going out in public wearing a dress that made him want to toss her over his shoulder and carry her off like some caveman? And who was that damned idiot with his mitts all over her? And how dare the twerp even think about putting his hands in all that silky hair that belonged to his girl?

  Reminding himself to breathe, Ethan strove to get the possessive emotions swirling violently in his head under control, but his shaking hands and churning gut were having none of it. He’d always had deep-seated feelings for Emilie, feelings he couldn’t imagine ever having for another woman. When they were younger it had manifested itself in gentleness —he was never so calm as when Emmy held his hand— but once Ethan had reached the age of fifteen and started having lustful thoughts about a girl he’d been raised to think of as a baby sister… Well, there had been nothing gentle about the things his hormonal body had wanted to do to Emilie then.

  He had been spooked, no two ways about it, and he’d thought the only logical thing to do was to keep his distance, just until they were old enough to handle this strangely powerful thing between them. Ethan had known even as a kid that, whatever it was, it was big.

  So, like any guy with a healthy respect for his own freedom would, he’d left home about ten seconds after his high school graduation and joined the Marines, hoping that an ocean between him and Emilie might cool his ardor a bit, and soon discovered that he was a complete moron. Being so far away from Emilie had only made him want her more, but by then it had been too late. He had made his choice, unwise though it may have been, and he had been forced to keep a lid on his emotions until he could actually do something about them.

  Ethan began to suspect that his actions may have had unforeseen consequences a few years later, when he noticed that he was no longer the only one utilizing the age-old practice of avoidance. Once he had taken his head out of his ass and realized that he wanted, maybe even needed, Emilie in his life, he had become uncomfortably aware that she no longer seemed to feel the same. Instead, she had done everything in her power to stay away from him at the family gatherings his parents forced him to attend whenever he was on leave.

  At the time Ethan had felt helpless to change the situation. Though her distance had hurt, he’d told himself it was all for the best until he was free to concentrate solely on her. Emilie w
as a forgiving person, always had been, and he was certain that she would come to see that he had left for her own good. Then she would let him back in to her heart and they could get on with the rest of their lives, together.

  That had always been the plan, and it had been damn fine one in his estimation. But now, seeing that puny blond jerk with his arm around Emilie’s waist, Ethan had a sickening feeling that he had waited too long to come back for her.

  And now this little prick was trying to take his place.

  Like hell. He smashed his scotch down so hard on the mantle that the tumbler shattered, though he barely noticed the flying glass. Ethan had been a scared stupid kid eleven years ago, he freely admitted it, but she couldn’t hold it against him forever. For both their sakes, he wouldn’t let her.

  Taking a deep breath, Ethan stalked towards Emilie, leaving the girl he had been paying only mild attention to sputtering in annoyance and swiping at the liquid now staining her dress.

  Emilie saw him coming. He could tell by the sudden tension in her spine and the wary look in her eyes as she snuck a furtive glance around the room, probably hoping for Lana or Kate to come to her rescue. Fortunately for Ethan, they seemed to have made themselves scarce for once.

  With a bracing sigh, he stepped in front of her and refused to budge when she attempted to silently move past him as if he was invisible. His hand reached out to firmly grasp her wrist. Though his hold was gentle, it held her as effectively as a chain when an unexpected electric shock zinged through both their systems at the contact.

  Emilie’s startled eyes shot quickly to lock with his. Ethan saw surprise there…and maybe just a hint of desire. Excellent, he thought with a barely stifled he-man grunt of pleasure. When she belatedly tried to pull her hand from his he simply held on tighter and watched as she tensed her jaw like she was about to face a firing squad.

  “Emmy,” he said in a voice so low that its deep murmur reached only her ears.

  Her eyes fluttered for a moment, and he watched her fist clench and unclench. She remained silent for so long, he was afraid she was going to flat out ignore him, but she finally took a shuddering breath and looked him in the eye.

  “Ethan.”

  A satisfied grin spread across his face. He knew he probably looked cocky as a rooster, but he couldn’t help it. It was the first time he’d heard her say his name in years. The frat boy on her right kept glancing back and forth between them with growing concern, which Ethan also found distinctly satisfying.

  Almost as satisfying as the fact that Emilie’s breathing was considerably shallower than it had been a moment ago and a blush was turning her cheeks a delightful shade of pink. Without thought, Ethan ran the back of his hand over her left cheekbone. Her dark eyes flickered with sparks of gold for a split second before they quickly shuttered and she took a step back.

  Right into the twerp’s waiting arms.

  “Are you okay, Emilie?” asked said twerp.

  She shot a surprised glance over her shoulder, as if she had momentarily forgotten he was there. At least that’s something, Ethan’s subconscious grumbled.

  “I-I’m fine.” She took a calming breath. When that apparently didn’t work, she took another one. “I just lost my balance.”

  Ethan’s lips threatened to curve into another grin, but the warning glare she gave him caused him to rein it in. This was the first time in a long time she had been willing to even acknowledge his existence, and he didn’t want to ruin his unexpected window of opportunity.

  “I…” her voiced faded into a whisper as she held Ethan’s gaze, as unable to break the connection as he was. Ethan could feel his own breathing escalate as the overwhelming urge to kiss her began to overtake his better judgment.

  Emilie was twelve the first time he’d kissed her on a long ago evening by the shores of Lake Michigan, and it and every kiss after had been everything that was sweet and tender. The next time he kissed her, Ethan was fairly certain there would be nothing sweet or tender about it.

  The spell was broken when the frat boy grabbed her arm. She tore her gaze away from Ethan to stare at the man next to her with mild alarm. “What is wrong with you?” the twerp demanded. He gave her arm another yank to break her daze, which caused Emilie to wince.

  Ethan had had quite enough of that. He reached forward and casually grabbed her soon-to-be-dead companion by the back of his collar and jerked him away from Emilie. The twerp’s eyes widened in stunned amazement, and Emilie gasped before grabbing Ethan’s arm to prevent him from hurting her date.

  “Ethan, stop.”

  Ethan didn’t loose his hold or take his eyes off of the whimpering fool. “He was hurting you,” he said through clenched teeth.

  He heard her breath catch in her throat. Then she stepped closer to him, pressing her soft body against his arm. His arm actually shook when she did that, which was intense, to say the least.

  “He didn’t mean to hurt me,” she reasoned gently.

  His eyes finally shifted to her face, and he felt his heart turn over. Oh hell, he thought for the second time in his life, I am such a goner.

  “Let him go,” she softly ordered. Emilie continued to meet his eye, though he could see by her trembling form that she was waging some kind of internal struggle to do so. After a brief hesitation, he let the twerp go with a slight shove. The guy’s knees gave out on him immediately, and he hit the floor with a comical plop.

  She didn’t even glance down at her date as she swiftly released Ethan’s arm and fled back to the hall and up the stairs, with her mother and Lana right on her heels. Ethan started forward to go after her himself when Kate stepped in front of him, halting his progress.

  He growled deep in his throat in warning, but Kate merely crossed her arms, cocked an unimpressed blonde brow at him, and refused to move an inch. When his display of temper passed, Kate looked heavenward, as if asking for patience, and grabbed his hand to pull him back towards the kitchen, away from the nosy party-goers who had been watching the scene play out for the last five minutes.

  Once they reached the back of the house, she roughly shoved him into a kitchen chair before pulling another one over and sitting down in front of him. Since Kate was in no way intimidated by his surliness, the effect of his glare was lost on her.

  “That was certainly illuminating,” she said wryly.

  Ethan did grunt this time. He was in no mood to deal with Kate. He had to talk to Emilie. That look in her eyes the moment before she fled—he had spent years recalling every detail of Emilie’s face and form, and in his memory her eyes were always open and trusting. There had been nothing like that in them tonight.

  “You hurt her,” Kate said bluntly.

  “I know that,” he said glumly. “I just…we were young. I was young. And I needed time to figure things out. Protect myself a little.” He shrugged lamely. The excuse rang hollow even to his own ears.

  “Fine,” said Kate. “Now she’s protecting herself from you.”

  “I would never hurt her,” Ethan insisted as he ran a weary hand over his face.

  Kate watched him closely for several moments, as if to take his measure, before she seemed to relax. “Maybe not,” she conceded in a slightly gentled tone. “I hope not. But she’s not going to be so easy to convince. Whatever you did to her, it’s made her doubt her instincts where men are concerned. Now…I just don’t think she’s as trusting as you may remember. And you have only yourself to blame.”

  He really hated it when Kate was right.

  Ten minutes after Kate returned to the living room, Emilie tiptoed into the kitchen. Unfortunately, she was so focused on being stealthy that she failed to notice she was being followed when she slipped out the back and onto the patio.

  Turning swiftly when the door slammed behind her, Emilie gasped at the sight of Ethan blocking her exit with a look of grim determination on his face. Because he obviously had a death wish, Ethan ignored the glare she gave him and didn’t even hesitate before unceremoniousl
y picking her up, throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and carrying her squirming body farther into the cool darkness of the lawn as she protested his barbarian tendencies in heated whispers.

  Keeping her voice down in an effort to avoid putting on another show for Kate’s guests, Emilie wiggled and pounded on his back with her fist, but the wretched man didn’t even flinch. In fact her struggles had no visible effect on him whatsoever, which only served to further annoy her as Ethan carried her into the shadows of the backyard without even acknowledging the hushed insults she was hurling at him.

  He set her down once they reached the oak tree in the far corner of the yard. Ethan used to push her on the old swing that still dangled from one of the branches above. Emilie flicked a glance at it before throwing another glare up at him and shaking her head in disgust. She tried to walk away without a word, but Ethan slipped his arms around her waist and hauled her flush against him to prevent her escape, the tightening of his jaw her only clue that he was barely holding onto his own temper.

  She barely had time to notice, though, as her breath caught at the jolt that hit her body every time Ethan touched her. It had been there when they were kids, too, but now it felt a thousand times more powerful. It was also a damned nuisance, and she resented the hell out of it.

  Seeing his calm, unyielding gaze, Emilie allowed herself to notice for the first time that Ethan had been changed by his time away from her. The last time she’d been this close to him, he was a gangly and awkward boy; now he was most definitely a man.

  But he was still Ethan — he was strong and he was steady and he still smelled like summer, fresh and light and green even in the frosty chill of winter, and she absolutely hated herself for greedily drinking that scent into her starving senses. She was sick, that was the only rational explanation she could come up with for this debacle of an evening.