Emma and the Earl. Elizabeth Harbison

to the delight of his kiss.

      Just as she was about to lose herself completely in the kiss, he pulled back, leaving her slightly dizzy and wanting more.

      “I’d better go now,” he said, a bit quickly. It was almost brusque. He must have realized it because his expression softened and he added, “I’ll call you first thing in the morning.”

      “O-okay,” she said uneasily. What had just happened? She wasn’t sure if it was right or wrong, but it had certainly felt good. Why had he stopped? Perhaps he’d remembered the favor she’d asked and was now feeling put out by it. “Are you sure it’s not too much trouble?”

      “Not at all. Honestly.” He glanced down, then looked back at her. “About that—just now. I apologize for being so forward.”

      “No…that…don’t worry about it.” She bit down on her lower lip. This awkwardness was the perfect illustration of why they shouldn’t get romantically involved. Their friendship was too valuable to lose to this kind of bumbling chitchat. “Okay, well, good night.”

      He looked at her for one steady moment. “Good night, Emma.” He turned toward the car.

      “John,” she called after him, before she had time to think what she was doing.

      After a moment’s pause, he turned back. “Yes?”

      That hesitation froze her. She searched her mind for something to say, something that might smooth over the discomfort they were both feeling and put them back on familiar territory. “Drive carefully,” was all she could come up with.

      He gave a wave of acknowledgment and jumped into the car, pulling out into the street almost the minute the ignition turned over.

      Forty minutes later, Emma lay in the dark solitude of her room, shifting on the hard bed. She knew she shouldn’t be fantasizing romantically about John, but the pImages** kept coming into her head regardless. The memory of that shivering moment when she looked into his eyes, and then his kiss… She tossed and turned, unable to doze for her pounding heart. She could have run a marathon sooner than fall asleep.

      When she had begun planning her trip, she truly hadn’t thought there might be any kind of romance in the offing for her and John. She still didn’t. But that kiss—while part of her had wanted it all evening—had thrown a wrench in the works. So was the way she was dwelling on it now.

      She was probably being swept away by the glamour of being in a foreign country, that was all. And the fact that a man as handsome as a movie star had pulled her into his arms and kissed her passionately. Under any circumstances, she might have found that difficult to resist, but this was John, and what she had with him was more important than anything.

      It was simply a temporary lapse of judgment she’d suffered from. Now that she had her wits about her, she knew she wasn’t willing to give up the friendship she had with John for a whirlwind romance, no matter how intoxicating it might be. Besides, even if by some wild fluke he wanted to pursue a romantic relationship with her, it wasn’t as though it could ever work out. They lived in two different countries, on two different continents. The best they could hope for would be a momentary flame that would fizzle out as soon as they were apart, leaving nothing but a small trail of smoke where their closeness had once been.

      Although, there was something strained about their closeness too. For two years she’d read his letters and written to him, without even a hint of self-consciousness. There hadn’t seemed to be any self-consciousness on his part either, but tonight he’d been more serious than she’d expected. More somber. Maybe it was just the newness of meeting him in person, but all evening she’d had the nagging sense that his guard was up. Which put her guard up and probably made her a lot less fun than he would have hoped. Which made for a question between them that no one had answered. What was wrong? Was he disappointed that she wasn’t what he expected her to be?

      Or was it jet lag on her part, making her imagine things that weren’t there? That had to be it.

      Her thoughts quieted, leaving only one small voice which had been there all the time but which had gone unheard. As she drifted into sleep, she heard the voice loud and clear. It wasn’t paranoia, it wasn’t cynicism… Something important was not right here.