Need You for Always (Heroes of St. Helena)(24)
Emerson looked at their hands, which had somehow become tangled in his lap, noticed how she was leaning over the center console into him and he was leaning back, and became acutely aware of how close their mouths were—how much closer she wanted them to be.
She snatched her hand back and cleared her throat. “I’ll do it, but there will be rules.”
He grinned, and it was a high-octane grin that had her hormones vibrating and her body humming. “I love it when you get all bossy.”
“I’m not bossy, just helpful,” she corrected, and his dimples got in on the action. “Here are my terms. They are nonnegotiable.”
“Why am I not surprised?” he deadpanned.
“I’ll cook your meals daily, drop them off in the morning, you heat them up as needed. No flirting or ‘heating up the kitchen’ comments, and no, I will absolutely not perform any other errands or chores or . . .” She held up a hand when his face twitched and he looked ready to speak. “Don’t do it. I know you want to, but one wrong word and I quit.”
With an amused nod he sat back, but the big jerk was still grinning.
“Although I am your chef, not your assistant, I will make an exception and take you to appointments on days when your family isn’t available, but it has to work around my schedule, and sometimes I will have Violet with me. I get each week’s pay in advance, and if you blow it by saying something stupid, then I quit and I get to keep that week’s money.”
Satisfied that she had addressed all of her concerns, she rested her elbow on the center console and waited for the rebuttal, which she knew was coming. Dax was as alpha as they came. He liked to be in control of his world and set the rules of engagement. But if he wanted her help, then he’d have to learn how to take orders, because the only way Emerson’s world kept spinning was when she was the commander in chief. “Deal or what?”
“I don’t want to say something stupid, so can you clarify? Was that you being bossy or just being helpful and letting me know that I can speak now?”
Emerson felt her eye twitch.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he rushed before she could say anything, “and to your first point”—he ticked it off with a coordinating finger, in case she didn’t know how to count to one—“if I wanted to reheat my food, I’d hire a delivery service, not a thousand-bucks-a-week chef. Second”—there went another finger—“I would never use a ‘heating up the kitchen’ line. That’s too amateur. As for performances?”
Emerson noticed that this particular finger could be taken as an offer. Or more of a visual cue. She chose to take it as a cue and kept quiet.
“Chores and errands wouldn’t even make my top one thousand list. And finally, Violet along for the ride is fine as long as she doesn’t get glitter on me, because when it comes to my family’s chauffeur services, they’re fired. Indefinitely. Their kind of help will kill me.”
Emerson carefully considered his terms, which was ridiculous since she knew she was going to say yes. Not only was Dax giving her everything she needed, he was being reasonable about his demands. Well, most of them, anyway. And when he spoke, everything seemed so simple. He needed a chef and she needed money.
“I can agree to fresh breakfasts and dinners, but lunch will be tricky because of my cart hours. If a PT session conflicts with my prior commitments, then you reschedule it or find your own way there.” She thought about the farmers’ market and her most recent catering commitment with Ida and decided she was crazy to take him on. Then again, he wasn’t asking her to dress up like a cork. “I need weekends off and I can’t start until Tuesday.”
Dax studied her for a long moment, as though trying to see if she was hosing him. She’d purposefully chosen the vague “prior commitments” route in case things got complicated and she needed an out. Not that she was going to let them get complicated—she was smarter than that now. But with Dax anything was possible.
“Do we have a deal?” she asked, and then to make sure it came off as an actual question and not a command, she stuck out her hand.
“I can work with that.” Dax slipped his fingers around hers and pulled her close so swiftly that her free hand shot out to steady her—landing on his right pec. Which flexed under her palm.
She looked up at him in shock, wanting to ask him what the hell he thought he was doing, but she was afraid she wanted him to do everything she saw written in his eyes.
Before she got to voice her opinion in any way whatsoever, his mouth was on hers and he was kissing her.
To be fair, it didn’t take long for her to kiss him back. An embarrassing zero point three seconds was all she needed to go from thinking it wasn’t a good idea to not thinking at all. In fact, they reached critical mass with almost zero acceleration. Her hands were in his hair, his on the curve of her ass, and she was considering leaping over the console to straddle him.
In the front seat of her car.
There was nothing more in that moment that she wanted than to lose herself right there, with him, and forget about everything. Dax wanted her, had made it clear that he was open to fun with no future ties. And didn’t that sound amazing.
Emerson had been tied down her whole life, first by her mother’s disease, then by her death. She’d learned early on that she was powerless when it came to changing the inevitable, yet the hard parts she could have changed—the hospital visits, holding her mom’s hand when things became bad, then when things became unbearable—she wouldn’t. Not for anything.