CHAPTER 33
Emma
Finn takes a step toward me, a huge man with eyes as dark as storm clouds and alive with flashes of lightning. He’s breathing hard.
I don’t know exactly where I’m standing. The barn is an unfamiliar place. What’s behind me? How far away is the opposite row of stalls?
It would be perfectly normal for me to be terrified right now. I’m not.
I trust Finn MacLaine. That flashing storm I see in his eyes isn’t anger—it’s lust—the same level of lust that’s been shooting through my body for days. And it doesn’t matter what’s behind me, because I know he’ll catch me if I stumble.
I don’t have to run away from this. I want it. All of it. All of him.
I don’t have to run from this man.
So I run to him instead.
I jump and he catches me. I throw my legs around his waist and curl my arms around his neck. Immediately, one of his hands cups my ass and the other slides up into my hair. His giant palm cradles the back of my head, and he presses my face toward his.
I keep my eyes wide open.
I see one last flash in his gaze before his mouth takes mine.
Ohhhhh…
Hot. Slick. Delicious. I hear him moan. I feel him adjust my weight, turn, and take me somewhere. I don’t care where. His lips are all over me, and his tongue is asking a lot of questions—is this all right? Can I do this? Is this too much?
And I’m doing my best to give him the answers he needs—yes, yes, and never.
I don’t know what’s happening. Finn is either spinning me around or gravity no longer applies to me because I feel like I’m flying.
Yet at the same time, he’s got me. I’m safe. I never thought I could feel so safe in the arms of such a dangerously sexy man, but here I am.
Are first kisses supposed to feel this way? How would I know? I’ve never had a first kiss like this in my life.
Or a second kiss or any kiss.
I had no idea a kiss could burn me alive like this.
His lips slide along mine, taking more, giving more. I open my mouth to him just as I hear a bang in front of me and realize that Finn has just kicked open a door. I don’t look. It doesn’t matter where he’s taking me as long as I’m still in his arms and he’s still kissing me.
I hear a second bang, this time behind me, which means the door is closed. Wherever we are now, it’s a room with a door.
A rush of lava-hot awareness shoots directly from his lips and into my panties.
I refuse to think about it. Just for this one moment, he’s not my boss.
He’s just the hottest man on the planet and I’m all his, to do with what he wants.
And I know exactly what he wants.
Finn bends with me in his arms, and I come to rest against a soft surface. I don’t dare move. My legs are like a vise around his waist, and my arms remain locked around his neck. I feel the heavy sink of his big body as it presses down into me.
But he’s propping himself up. I can tell that he’s afraid to hurt me.
I let my arms fall loose and allow my hands to explore him. Immense, powerful shoulders. A rock-solid chest. Upper arms like twisted steel.
I can’t help myself. I hear a blatantly sexual groan rise up from deep in my chest and escape through my mouth.
Finn chuckles like he appreciates it, and I feel the vibration in his chest.
But suddenly, his lips still. His arms tense beneath my touch. And he raises his face from mine. Only then do I dare open my eyes.
Oh, no.Something has changed. The lust is gone, and in its place is horror. And so much pain that it knocks the wind from me.
His head drops and he stares down at his chest. One of his black curls grazes my lips. I feel him trembling.
And then he jumps off me.
I sit up. I’m in some kind of office or dressing room. Saddles and leather straps and lockers line the walls. I’m on a leather couch. And I have no idea what just happened.
He’s got his back to me. One of his hands is raised to his face and he’s rubbing it, hard, like he’s trying to wash me away.
Of course he is. What kind of complete TV-poisoned fantasy world am I living in? Did I really think…?
I can’t breathe. I’m panicked. That little pack on my back has just burst at the seams and every one of my anxieties and fears have dumped out on the floor around me. I raise a hand to my chest and talk myself down. I have to take in some oxygen.
What have I done?
I jump to my feet and head for the door, the one Finn slammed shut with his foot only two minutes ago. My hand’s on the knob.
“Emma, wait.”
I turn.
Finn’s shoulders sag. He looks tortured and his eyes are rimmed in red. “I owe you an apology. That was wrong. I am truly sorry.”
“Wrong.”
“Yes. Another thing that is all on me. I had no right. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?”
He looks over my shoulder to stare at the closed door. He doesn’t want to look at me. I guess I disgust him. I turn to go.
“Please. Wait. I’m sorry because I’m your boss and you’re my employee and I… I can’t…”
I spin around to face him again. The next words that come out of my mouth will either save me or take me down all the way. I have to be careful. But I will not grovel.
“I absolutely must keep this job.”
His eyes flash at me. At least he’s looking at me again.
“If I have to choose…” Oh, shit. I’m on the verge of crying, which is the absolute last thing I want to do.
“If I have to choose between my job as housekeeper or…” No.
I refuse to cry. I clear my throat. “I choose the job, Mr. MacLaine. It’s the best job I’ve ever had, by a long shot, and it’s the only thing standing between me and the street. I wish I were exaggerating.”
Finn’s head snaps back, like I’ve just slapped him.
It’s the opposite. He’s just slapped me. Hard.
I’ve gone from soaked panties to stupid fool.
I won’t make that mistake again.
“You’re absolutely right,” I say. “You’re my—”
“Don’t call me Mr. MacLaine or Mr. Finn or anything ridiculous like that.”
“—boss. I work for you. And I apologize for putting you in that position.”
I hear the lack of conviction in my own voice. I’m embarrassed. Humiliated. Turned on. So turned on that I’m turned around. So turned around that I don’t know if any of this was real or if it was all in my head.
My empty head.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he says. “I was the one who put you in a position…”
“Thank you,” I tell him, knowing we need to wrap this up before I start sobbing. Nobody wants a sobbing, lovesick housekeeper. Oh, shit. Here comes the embarrassment and humiliation again. “Thank you for giving me the opportunity for this job.”
“Emma—”
“I need to get dinner started and finish scrubbing the porch.” I pull at the knob and the door swings wide. I gasp. A huge blond man stands there with his hand raised, knuckles poised to knock on the door.
“Hi.” He doesn’t miss a beat. “I’m Kevin.”
“Hello. I’m Emma.”
I race past him and run from the horse barn, my cheap canvas sneakers slapping against the flooring, the smell of grass and horses enough to choke me. Outside, a strong wind has whipped up, blowing dust everywhere. Dirt hits me in the face.
Perfect.
Back to reality. Back to the job.
I’m not the kind of woman who kisses Mr. Perfect and gets a happily ever after. I’m the kind of woman who has to run away from the hottest kiss of her life just so she can get hit in the face with a clump of dirt on her way to hose down a porch.
I gulp down air, hoping it will cut off the sob before it starts.
What am I going to do? Have I already ruined everything?
I run inside the house, into the kitchen, and start the water to boil. I grab the potatoes from the pantry and get to peeling. I have no idea how many spuds to peel. Does Finn eat a huge portion of mashed potatoes? Of course he does.
He has a big appetite.
I throw the peeler in the sink and hear it clatter. My fingers curl around the countertop as I balance on my hands. I let my head fall forward, and watch a few tears drop to the marble.
From here on out, I have one goal. And I better be smart about it.
My goal is to keep this job. And how will I do that? By making sure my employer doesn’t regret bringing me into his home. By doing everything exactly right—never make a single mistake—so he won’t have an excuse to fire me.
Not your man. Not your family. Not your home.
This is your job.