Joy Ride by Desiree Holt (reading a book TXT) 📕

woman yet knowing how childish that would sound. How insecure.

Okay, I am insecure. And I’m not asking the question because I don’t want to know the answer.

No. She wanted to pretend it might go on forever. Of course, that meant she’d have to go back to Aftershock.

Ninny. If you’re going to jump, just do it. You know you want to. Go back. See him. Tell him your name.

But she couldn’t seem to make the leap. Her anonymity, her lack of commitment was her safety net. She still had a safe place to run back to.

Scaredy cat.

With a sigh, she told the receptionist she was going to lunch and took the elevator down to the lobby of the building. She started in the direction of the glass exit doors, searching in her purse for her sunglasses and paying no attention to anything around her. She’d almost reached the glass doors to the sidewalk when a hand closed over her elbow.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” the male voice said.

Emma stopped, tensed, and turned around. And there was Andrew. “What for?”

“Because we need to talk.” He prodded her toward the exit. “I’m not giving up on us, Emma. I won’t let you chase me away.”

Whoever would have thought plain, old oatmeal Andrew would be this persistent. She was over feeling bad for him, although her conscience did twinge once in a while. Now she was annoyed. She already had enough inner conflicts to deal with. She didn’t need this.

Go away, Andrew.

But no, he was still attached to her like a barnacle.

“Andrew, we have nothing to talk about. It’s over. We’re over. Please. I want to get some lunch.”

“Good,” he said. “So do I. We can have lunch together.” Outside he took a left, urging her with him. “There’s a nice little restaurant a few doors down where we can get a quiet booth and hash this out. I spotted it when I parked the car.”

Oh, great. Right where people I know might see me.

“There’s nothing to hash out,” she cried, trying to pull away from him, her anger ratcheting up even more. For God’s sake. Why did he have to decide now to be assertive? This was a side of him she’d never seen in the two years they’d been together.

Oh, right, idiot. Because you always went along with everything. Never created a bump in the road. He doesn’t know how to deal with this disruption of his life. And face it, Emma. That’s mostly what this is about.

“I don’t think you want to make a scene out here in public, do you?” he asked in a quiet voice.

Any residual friendly feelings she might have had for him were rapidly dissipating.

“Or you’ll what? Turn me over your knee and spank me? Hardly your style. Especially where people can see you and your perfect image would be stained.” She gritted her teeth. “I don’t want to make a scene anywhere. I just want you to leave me alone. Or are you going to tattle to my parents again if I say no?”

“I thought you had lost your mind and they should know about it.”

“How flattering,” she spat.

“Listen, Emma. You owe me.” He moved them along the sidewalk. “Let’s just have lunch and talk. Okay?”

Emma sighed. He obviously wasn’t going to go away no matter what she said. She hated the thought of making a spectacle of herself out in public this way. She’d just have lunch with him, be firmer than she was the other day, and make him go away.

“All right. Lunch. But then that’s it.”

They were already at the restaurant. Andrew opened the door and stepped back for her to precede him. For one hysterical moment, she thought about turning and racing down the street. What if anyone she knew saw them together? Or worse yet, her parents? They’d definitely assume she and Andrew were getting back together. The thought made her shudder. But she knew, rationally, running wouldn’t solve the problem, and she’d still have this situation to deal with. She’d just have to hold Andrew to his word they’d do this quietly.

She followed the hostess as she led them to a booth in a far corner. Of course. Trust Andrew to ask for something as private as possible.

“Thank you.” He smiled at the hostess as he and Emma slid into the booth opposite each other.

“I’ll send the waiter right over to take your drink orders,” the woman said as she whisked herself away.

“How about a glass of wine?” Andrew asked.

Emma raised an eyebrow. “At noon? You never drink in the middle of the day.”

“I know you enjoy a glass of white. You seem so….” He shrugged. “Uptight. Edgy. I thought perhaps it would relax you.”

She forced a calm she didn’t feel, reminding herself none of this was really Andrew’s fault. He couldn’t help who and what he was. And the plain truth, he was the man she’d chosen. Until last Saturday night.

“Thank you.” She picked up the menu and made a show of studying it. Not that she had any appetite left.

The waiter returned with her wine and a soft drink for Andrew, and took their order. Luncheon steak for Andrew, quiche Lorraine for her.

Emma studied the man across from her. He was so different from Marc, but the very difference described the two parts of her life—the one disciplined and neatly arranged, the other wild and messy but exciting. Like discovering if you ate forbidden chocolate you wouldn’t necessarily get fat.

If she wanted to maintain any semblance of control over this conversation, maybe even part on some sort of friendly basis, she’d have to start the conversation.

“Andrew.” She set her wine goblet down very carefully. “I want to admit, first of all, I probably—no, strike that—did in fact behave with disregard for you, both Saturday night and Sunday. For that I owe you an apology.”

Okay, there it was. Would he be smug about it? Dismissive?

His reaction stunned her instead. He reached across the table and covered one of her