The Bedroom Business. Sandra Marton

go out. On a date. To have dinner together. Take in a movie. Just—just spend a little time with another person…”

      Her voice broke. Jake looked bewildered. She thought, for a second, he was reaching towards her and she shook her head and stepped back.

      “I don’t expect you to understand. You’re never home alone, unless you want to be. You never have to look at the calendar and say, look at that, it’s the weekend and I don’t have a thing to do except clean my apartment and wash my hair.”

      Holy hell, Jake thought.

      “That’s what this is all about?” he said slowly. “That you don’t date?”

      “That’s what I just said.”

      “You don’t have any, uh, any men in your life?”

      Emily’s chin lifted to a dangerous angle. “Are we going to have to go through this, line by line?”

      “So, that’s why you accepted Archer’s invitation last night? Because you’re lonely?”

      “I’m not lonely,” she said defiantly. “I have friends. Hobbies. I have a canary.”

      “You’re lonely,” he said. “That’s why you went out with that snake.”

      “Are you deaf, Mr. McBride? I am not…” Emily frowned. “You think he’s a snake?”

      “Of course.”

      “That’s what you’ve always thought?”

      “Yes.” Well, it was true if you figured “always” referred to yesterday evening, when Archer had sneaked up on Emily. “I tried to tell you that, but you wouldn’t listen.”

      “You didn’t try to tell me anything, except how to run my life.” She cocked her head. “Pete Archer said you and he are best friends.”

      “Ha.”

      “He said you’ve known each other forever.”

      “Only if forever means a year working for the same brokerage firm, a long time back.”

      Emily puffed out a breath. “He lied to me.” She looked at Jake. “You’re right, by the way. He is a snake.”

      Jake’s face darkened. “Did he—”

      “Oh, I can handle men like Pete Archer.” A smile ghosted across her lips. “When I was sixteen, one of my sisters dated a guy who was into karate. He taught me some great moves. I still remember them.”

      “Ah.” Jake moistened his lips. “Let me get this straight. You, uh, you’d like to date. To meet some nice guys and go out. Is that it?”

      What was the sense in trying to pretend otherwise? Jake McBride knew virtually everything about her now, from her shoe size to her sexless sex life.

      “Yes.”

      “Well.” He ran his hand through his hair again, turned away from her, paced back and forth, back and forth. “I’ve got it,” he said, and swung towards her. “I know a lot of people. Some of them are nice guys, too. I’ll introduce you.”

      “Oh, no. I couldn’t ask you to—”

      “You haven’t asked, I’ve volunteered. Look, it’s no big deal.”

      Emily collapsed into her chair. “What are you going to do,” she said, with a nervous laugh, “go to a meeting and say, ‘oh, by the way, my personal assistant would like to have a date this weekend’?”

      Jake grinned at her. “My executive assistant,” he said. “And I’ll be subtle, I promise. For instance…well, I go to lots of cocktail parties. Business stuff. From now on, you’ll go with me.”

      “Mr. McBride, really—”

      “I’ll introduce you as my good right hand, you’ll circulate, network…Emily, don’t look at me that way. It’ll work, I know it will.”

      “It won’t. I’m—I’m not good at this male-female thing, Mr. McBride.”

      “Jake.”

      “Jake,” she said, because it was silly, really, to go on with such formality now. “Look, I appreciate your offer but it’s pointless. I’ll feel ridiculous.”

      “More ridiculous than you’d have felt if you’d left your number on that answering machine?”

      Emily bit her lip. “Even if something came of it…For one thing, I don’t know how to make small talk. ”

      “There’s nothing to it. I’ll teach you.”

      “Yes, but…” She waved a hand. “It’s more than that. I don’t dress right. My sisters used to tell me I had no idea of style.”

      Jake took a step back, looked her over slowly from head to toe. “We can take care of that with ease.”

      “I don’t even know how to—” she blushed “—how to handle the, uh, the end of the evening thing.”

      “The…?” He colored. “Oh.”

      “Exactly. I mean, it was simple enough, last night. When your friend—”

      “Archer’s no friend of mine,” Jake said grimly.

      “The point is, when he, uh, when he tried to, you know, kiss me, I just put my hands up, the way you do in karate—”

      Jake began to laugh. “I’d have given anything to have seen that.”

      “But—but if a man tried to kiss me and I wanted him to, I’d just mess it up. I’d—”

      He felt his body tighten. “You mean you’ve never…” He cleared his throat, did a mental ten-count, reminded himself that Emily was a sparrow, not a thrush, and his lifelong preference was for songbirds. “Well,” he said briskly, “never mind. I’ll teach you everything you need to know. How to talk with a man. How to dress for him. How to make him want you, and only you.”

      “I don’t know. It all seems to—so—”

      “I’ll teach you all you need to know, Emily.” Jake’s voice roughened. “Including how to conduct yourself at the end of the evening.”

      Color swept into her face. “I can’t believe I told you that,” she whispered. “I feel so foolish!”

      “I’ll teach you,” Jake said gently. He reached down, clasped her shoulders and lifted her to her feet. “You’ll see. I’m an excellent teacher.”

      So saying, he bent his head, took Emily’s face in his hands, and covered her mouth with his.

      CHAPTER THREE

      HIS mouth fit hers, perfectly.

      His lips were warm, and dry, and pleasant. No tongue, Emily thought dazedly. None of that disgusting swapping spit stuff that the insufferable Pete Archer had tried last night.

      Still, why was McBride kissing her? And why was she letting him? That was a better question.

      Because he’d caught her by surprise. Why else? she told herself, and she put her hands against his chest and pulled back from his kiss.

      “Mr. McBride,” she said, a little breathlessly, “I really don’t think—”

      “Call me Jake,” he said hoarsely but before she could call him anything, he put his arms around her, drew her against him and kissed her again.

      The kiss wasn’t the same.

      She might have known it wouldn’t be. His lips nudged hers, tugged at hers, moved against hers. And, when she tried to protest, to tell him there was no reason for them to kiss and certainly no reason to kiss like this, he used the moment against her and parted her lips