One More Taste (One and Only Texas #2)(46)
“For the record, it had never occurred to me that you had ulterior motives or were trying to win me over … that way.” As he’d told Shayla, when she’d voiced the same concern, it would have been insulting to Emily for him to think that about her. Not to mention how insulting it would have been if any other employee—yes, she was an employee, a fact he needed to start keeping in the forefront of his mind—had suggested that Knox would be so corrupt as to coerce her. That went against everything he stood for. But Emily was perilously close to being correct. “But I agree that it certainly has that appearance.”
She stepped to his side, her eyes on the view, and splayed a hand out on the windowpane. “Which is why it can never happen again.”
Restraint and lust warred in his blood. He could reverse the conversation with one touch. He could pull her into his arms, carry her to his room, and spend the rest of the night ravishing her. He could once again ease that deep well of longing that only she could temper. “No, it can’t.”
“Are you enjoying dinner?”
His gaze traced the line of her jaw to her delicate earlobe. A curl of her hair snagged in its ridges. His fingers itched with the urge to free it. “It’s horrible.”
She flicked a glance in his direction. “I tasted it. It’s perfection.”
“It has no soul. It’s not you. And it’s not me.” When had that become the touchstone? What happened to the notion that food was fuel? How could ten days in Emily’s orbit set fire to such a fundamental philosophy—a symbol of the way he calibrated his life with precision. With control. Always playing by the rules.
My God, how had he allowed himself to go so far off course? Especially now, when he was so close to having everything he’d ever wanted? What would his father think of his behavior?
“Emily…” God, he hated the strain in his voice, the telltale weakness. The prayer infused in her name. Enough was enough. Time to put out the fire raging between him and Emily before it burned everything he’d staked his life on to the ground. He peeled away from the window and resumed his seat at the table. “You’re right. I was being sarcastic about dinner being horrible. The truth is, it’s exceptional and healthy and lean. Everything I look for in a meal. Great job. But I’m afraid this salmon’s getting cold, so if you’ll excuse me.”
He lifted his fork and forced his vision to tunnel to his food.
Still at the window, Emily’s chef jacket rustled. She released a slow, jagged exhalation loaded with tension. He ground his molars together, tamping the urge to look her way. She had to know this was for the best. She had to agree. Neither of them wanted so much as a shadow of controversy in their lives. Neither of them could afford one.
Her footsteps sounded in retreat to the kitchen.
“Emily? I really am sorry.”
She stopped with a hand on the door. “Don’t call me Emily. As if you know me so well. Let’s keep it Briscoe and Ford from now on.”
With a proud carriage, she pushed through the kitchen door. He memorized the swish of her ponytail and the curve of her back, keenly aware that this was probably the last time he’d see her for a while.
*
On Friday, Knox woke up knowing that the day was special. He put a little extra verve in his steps during his morning jog, and he’d dressed with meticulous purpose. His father’s cufflinks. His lucky hat. Not that he needed it because this morning, one week after their initial visit, the structural engineers were returning to the resort to have a second look before presenting their findings to Knox and Ty, and this time, they were bringing a geologist along. Fancy that. Wonder what findings they’d present at their meeting with Ty and Knox afterward.
He slid his truck key into the ignition with extra care, then turned his eyes heavenward. “If you were ever going to let your truck drive onto the resort, today’s the day. You could have a front row seat to see the look on Ty’s face.”
He turned the key.
Click. Click.
He banged on the steering wheel. “Really?”
Too agitated to sit, he jumped out of the truck, fighting to keep his good mood in place. “Why? You wanted this to happen. You told me over and over that you wanted this for the resort, and for me. Why not support me now? What am I doing wrong?” On a whim, he leaned on the side mirror as Emily had done, talked to it as if it were an ear. “Dad, this is a good thing. The next step toward justice. Your brother’s a criminal, your father was a criminal, and they both screwed you over. It’s time to make things right.”
With a decisive crack, the mirror snapped off, sending Knox stumbling for footing. When he regained his balance, he glared at the mirror, dangling by its wires. “What the hell kind of sign is that?”
Of all the possible days, today he didn’t have time to interpret whatever random message his dad was sending him from the great beyond. He whipped out his phone and called Haylie’s cell phone number. She had to be on her way to work, too. But she didn’t pick up the line. Unwilling to waste time running through his contact list, he accessed his Cab’d app and made a request.
Ten minutes later, a car pulled around Knox’s driveway. This was not Ralph in the Cab’d luxury sedan, but a dull maroon economy car carrying a rounder, middle-aged gentlemen with a pencil mustache, slicked-back, black hair, and a slightly manic smile that reminded Knox vaguely of Gomez Addams from The Addams Family. Knox looked at his app’s read out. Paco. The name sounded vaguely familiar, though he couldn’t recall where he’d heard it.