The Seduction Request. Michelle Celmer

on, Alex.” She cupped a hand over the mouthpiece and turned to Matt. “I need to take this.”

      “Can I give you a bit of advice?” he asked.

      She looked to the door, gave an exasperated sigh, then nodded.

      “You’ll get nowhere in business cleaning up someone else’s mess.” With an image of her perplexed expression etched into his mind, he walked out, grinning to himself. Tugging his keys from his pocket, he headed out to the parking lot.

      He was wearing her down. As hard as she was working to seem irritated, he could sense her relaxing, letting her guard down. He could also sense her conflict. She wanted to like him, but she was afraid to trust him. It wouldn’t be much longer before he had her hooked, and in the meantime, he was enjoying the hell out of himself. For the first time in months he was focused on something other than getting the restaurant built and it was a welcome relief. He would even consider leaving the construction company to its own devices for a day if he could spend the time with Emily.

      He thought of the lake up at the cottage where they’d spent so many summer afternoons and wondered if she still liked to fish. Or they could drive to Metro Park, rent bikes and ride the trails. Hell, they could sit on the hood of his car and talk all day for all he cared. As long as he was with her. And maybe, if things went well he could invite her back to his hotel room….

      The direction of his thoughts startled him. Taking Emily back to his hotel for…well, whatever they might end up doing, was out of the question. For now. Pushing too hard, too fast, would only drive her away. He had to remind himself, he was doing this for Ty and his parents. If this Alex person was really into something shady, it was imperative Matt not screw this up.

      He’d already decided to take Ty’s advice and concentrate on being her friend.

      Three

      The air drifting in the front window, thick and sticky and tinged with the scent of summer rain, zapped the last of Emily’s energy. She stretched out on her love seat, waiting for the pizza guy, relieved the day was almost over. As badly as it had begun, when she was convinced things couldn’t get much worse, they had.

      Alex, it would seem, was having so much fun he’d decided to extend his vacation another few days. She’d tried to explain how difficult it had been holding it together at work lately and he came back with his typical, “Don’t worry about it, Em. It’ll all work itself out.”

      He didn’t have to face twenty-five employees, not to mention the fifteen or so college kids they hired every spring and summer, knowing it might only be a matter of weeks before they were out of a job. Though he was her good friend and she loved him to death, acting as a human shield between him and his mother was getting old.

      The doorbell rang and she rose from her seat, grabbing the ten-dollar bill for the pizza from the coffee table on her way to the door. Money in hand, she pulled the door open, but it wasn’t the pizza guy standing outside her apartment. It was Matt.

      And she’d be damned if her traitorous heart didn’t lift a little at the sight of him. That cocky grin he always wore told her he was up to no good.

      She leaned on the doorjamb, trying her best to look annoyed while her lips itched to return the smile. His hair was damp, his chin freshly shaved, and the clean scent of soap and shampoo begged “notice me!” Drops of rain spotted his muscle shirt, drawing her attention to the impressive width of his shoulders and the definition in his biceps and arms.

      Something hot and feminine stirred deep inside her.

      She conjured up her best annoyed voice. “Are you stalking me?”

      From behind his back he produced a large pizza. “If you won’t come to dinner with me, I bring dinner to you.”

      “I’m not hungry,” she lied, and as if on cue, her stomach gave a hollow moan.

      “Your stomach disagrees.” Matt lifted the lid and peeked inside. “Pepperoni, sausage, bacon—you sure you don’t want a slice?”

      “How did you know…wait a minute, that’s my pizza! You rat! You stole my dinner.”

      The grin widened, his dimple winking adorably. “I paid for it, so it is technically mine now. But I’d be willing to share it with you.”

      “Is there anything you won’t do to get what you want?”

      “That depends on what I want.” The simmering look in his eyes, his smoldering tone, warmed her all the way through to her bones. He didn’t even seem to be doing it on purpose. It was as if oozing sex appeal came naturally. Effortlessly.

      She crossed her arms over her chest. “How did you even know where I live?”

      “CIA.”

      “That’s very funny.”

      “It’s classified. If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you.”

      She glared at him, tapping her foot.

      “All right, I asked your brother.” He lifted the box lid. “Hmm, smells delicious.”

      Her mouth watered as the scent wafted her way. She’d skipped lunch so she was beyond starving and there was next to nothing edible in the refrigerator.

      “Another minute and you’re going to be drooling, Em.”

      This was so unfair. He knew how much she loved pizza.

      “Fine, you can stay.” She stepped back and held the door open. Only then did she realize she was wearing her baggy pajama bottoms and the University of Michigan T-shirt with the paint splatters on the front. Like he would even notice.

      Or care.

      Matt stepped inside, gazing around her one-room flat.

      “It’s small, but I like it that way,” she automatically explained. She had no idea why she felt the need to justify her living conditions to him. Although it might have had something to do with her mother’s constant, “Why don’t you get a real apartment, Emily,” or “If you can’t afford a decent place to live, why don’t you move back home with us?” As if that would ever happen. Emily would be hauled away in a straitjacket inside of a week.

      “I have closets bigger than this,” Matt said, then cringed and added, “I didn’t mean that like it sounded. I’m just thinking how ridiculous it is that I have so much stuff I need closets the size of an apartment.”

      He looked so disturbed by the idea, she had to wonder if maybe he wasn’t quite as egotistical as she’d thought. Or maybe he was only pretending to be like the old Matt. The question was, why? What could he possibly want from her? Was it possible that he really did want to be her friend?

      “When I signed my first pro deal, I had money for the first time in my life,” Matt said. “I swear all I did that first year was buy stuff. I guess I just never throw anything away.”

      “I feel your pain. It must have been real rough having all that money to spend.”

      “You’d be surprised.” His eyes darkened with some emotion she couldn’t identify, and she had the sudden impression she’d dredged up something he didn’t want to confront. She couldn’t decide if that was a good or a bad thing.

      Probably bad.

      She grabbed paper plates and napkins from the kitchenette and opened the fridge. “I suppose you’ll want something to drink.”

      “Whatever you’ve got,” he said, looking around as if he wasn’t sure where to put the food.

      “I usually eat at the coffee table, so I can see the game.” And because it happened to be the only table she owned.

      “Still a sports fan, huh?” He set the pizza down and sat on the love seat.

      She grabbed two beers. “To my parents’ dismay. My mother is always trying to drag me to Junior League meetings