Chapter 5
Emily stared at Hendrix, wondering what it would be like to watch him work out. She’d demand that he do it naked. Or mostly naked. She wanted to see each and every one of those muscles flexing as he lifted a heavy weight, then slowly lowered it. She could stand very close and inhale his scent. She loved the way Hendrix smelled. He wore a subtly spicy cologne that tickled her nose. When he was finished working out, she could join him in the shower, let her hands glide over every inch of him.
“Em?” Hendrix prompted.
Her eyes jerked higher and she froze for a moment. The heat in her cheeks…goodness, could he tell she was blushing? She lifted a hand to her cheek, trying to hide her reaction.
“Sorry,” she whispered and lowered her eyes, pretending to read the task list on her notebook. “I was just…,” she paused, shaking her head. “Umm…how about ten o’clock tomorrow morning? We can watch the ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’, then start cooking while the football games come on.”
“You…enjoy football?”
Emily nodded emphatically. “Are you kidding? I love football!” That was true enough. College and pro football were her Saturday and Sunday indulgences. She, Maggie, and Ann used to bet on the plays while munching on popcorn and drinking wine or beer.
Good grief, she missed those ladies!
“Great,” he replied. “Until tomorrow,” he said and turned, whistling as he walked out of the kitchen.
Emily watched him leave, wishing that he’d stop wearing that stupid jacket. Seriously, it was a crime to hide that great of an ass!
Then she realized what she was thinking. “Good grief,” she muttered, blowing a puff of air, making her bangs flutter slightly. “Don’t do to him what you hate being done to you.” She hurried out of the kitchen, determined to get her tasks finished quickly so that she could leave a little early tonight.
She wanted to clean her house before Hendrix arrived tomorrow. And she didn’t want to think about the early days of working here. Those stupid, uncomfortable outfits had bared too much of her skin. They’d pinched in weird places and gave the club members the idea that they were allowed to slap, pinch, or touch any part of her. The groping in those days had been…bad.
But things had changed, she reminded herself, sliding a hand down over the black slacks and white cotton dress shirt. She didn’t wear the maroon vest that the wait staff wore, but she always wore her nametag with her title, so that the club members took her seriously. Every club member knew her, knew the power she held over the future of their membership. And thankfully, no one messed with her anymore.