Hard Rules (Dirty Money #1)(61)

“Or two dogs and six kids.”

My lips quirk. “Six kids?”

“Six dogs?”

“You’re crazy, woman.”

“Because I haven’t had coffee,” she jokes, but then turns somber. “In all seriousness though, Shane. I still get it. No relationship. Just sex. I get that this isn’t a good time for you.”

“It’s never been a good time for me, Emily, and that extends to well before I moved back to Denver.”

“I understand.”

“No. You don’t. I don’t do relationships, but I seem to do you, and us, exceptionally well.” I cup her face. “Spend the weekend with me.”

“What?”

“Spend the weekend with me. I have to get some work done, but I can do it here. We’ll hide out, order room service, and stay naked as much as possible.”

“Naked. Well, since you put it that way.”

My lips curve with approval. “All right then. One more question. Coffee first or sex first?”

Her eyes light with amusement. “I hear coffee makes sex better.”

“Coffee it is,” I say, releasing her and reaching for the pot to fill our cups.

“Please tell me you have cream and sugar.”

“Plenty of both.” I open the cabinet and set two boxes in front of her.

“Thanks,” she says eyeing the boxes before emptying several packets of sugar into her cup. “You mentioned work you have to do. I can help you if you’ll let me.”

“If you don’t mind researching drug companies and marketable products, I’d love the extra set of hands.”

“I don’t mind at all. The whole pharmaceutical side of things sounds interesting, but I do need to run to my apartment and grab some clothes and my flat iron. I can’t be a frizzy mess with the same clothes on all weekend.” She sets her cup down. “If fact, I should go do that now and get it over with.”

“I’ll drive you,” I offer, certain I can get us in and out of here with more discretion by car than on foot. And I’m damn sure not blurting out a warning about Derek—that needs to be well timed and thoughtful.

“I can walk,” she says, her hands settling at the back of her hips. “I’ll just run to my place and come back here.”

“It makes sense for me to drive you,” I insist.

“It makes sense for me to walk and avoid the hassle of getting the car from the garage.”

I narrow my eyes on her. “You really don’t want me at your apartment, do you?”

Her cheeks flush. “It’s barely furnished, Shane. It’s embarrassing.”

I step to her, my hands settling on her waist, hers on my chest. “You don’t have to be embarrassed with me.”

“Your world is not my world.”

“Considering you’re in my T-shirt, that’s debatable, but for now, you need clothes.” I release her and pick up my phone from the counter to punch the button for Tai. “A problem easily solved.”

“Solved how?” she asks, stepping to me, her hands urgently setting at my waist. “What are you doing, Shane?”

“Mr. Brandon,” Tai answers. “What can I do for you?”

“Morning, Tai,” I say, sliding my hand to her back and molding her close. “Emily needs a weekend wardrobe.”

“No!” she hisses softly. “No, I do not.”

“Running gear and casual attire,” I continue as if she hasn’t spoken.

“Of course,” he replies. “I can send some things up from our spa immediately. Her shoe size would be helpful.”

I eye Emily. “What size shoes?”

“Shane. No.”

I cover the phone. “Sweetheart. We’re doing this. What size?”

A conflicted look flickers over her face. “Seven.”

“Seven,” I repeat to Tai, “and she wants a flat iron and whatever you think she might need this weekend.”

“Give me a half an hour.”

“Perfect.” I end the call as Emily shoves away from me, holding up her hands stop-sign fashion.

“I’ll let you drive me to my apartment,” she declares. “I’m sorry. You were right. I’m a crazy person. Please. Call him back.”

“I’m not calling him back.”

“I have my own clothes.”

I gently shackle her wrist and close the distance between us. “And I prefer you naked. Actually, maybe I should call back and throw the rest of your clothes on top of the lights outside.”

“I’m serious, Shane,” she warns.

“So am I.” My cell phone rings again and I cup her face, kissing her hard and fast, and set her away from me to look at the caller ID. “I wish like hell I could drown this thing for the weekend,” I say, punching the answer button. “Why are you calling on a Saturday, Jessica?”

“‘Thank you for working Saturdays, Jessica. Your dedication is commendable, Jessica, and you come through even when your boss is being an *.’ There’s a penthouse apartment that’s releasing to the market this afternoon in the heart of Cherry Creek. It’s amazing, Shane, and it’ll be gone in a blink. You have to go look at it. It has everything. Shopping. Food. A doorman. A balcony to rival the one you have now. I’m trying to convince them to give you a preview showing today.”