Page 101 of Blitzing Emily

Despite being almost a foot shorter than her son, Suzanne could crack a rib or two with her embrace. Her hair was perfect. Her clothes were perfect. She looked like she’d strolled over from across the street, instead of spending several hours sitting on a flight. The most secure woman in the world would wish for a full-length mirror, a mani-pedi, and a lipstick touch-up after spending only a few moments in Suzanne’s presence.

“I’m thrilled to meet you, too,” Emily managed to gasp.

“I realize we’re a little early. One of Jack’s buddies offered us a ride in his jet. He’s playing golf this weekend with Seattle’s pro basketball team’s owner, and those guys start before dawn. On the bright side, this gives us some extra time together.” Suzanne gave her one last squeeze. “We can do some wedding planning. Won’t that be fun?”

Emily nodded, and attempted to look delirious with excitement. She saw the same wicked twinkle in Suzanne’s eyes that her son employed to devastating effect on the female population. Suzanne, however, wasn’t angling for a date. She made it clear (in the nicest possible way, of course) that Emily was spending the day knee-deep in wedding details, and she was going to like it, too.

Suzanne turned her attentions toward her son.

“You’d better get in the shower, young man. Emily’s mama and I had such a nice chat on the phone yesterday, and she’ll be here shortly with Emily’s dad and Amy. We girls will be doing a little shopping. I’m sure you men will manage to find some kind of trouble to get yourselves into while we’re gone.” She gave him a gentle push toward his room.

Suzanne talked with Emily’s mom? Emily’s mom’s phone number wasn’t a state secret, but it would have been nice if she’d had some advance warning.

“Where’s Dad?” Brandon said. He looked dazed.

“He’ll be right in. He’s bringing the bags.” Brandon reached out for the doorknob. She put one hand out to stop him. “Oh, no, you don’t. You need to put some clothes on before you go out there.” Her lips curved into a smile as she glanced over at Emily.

“Excuse me.” Emily pivoted on one heel. “Nice to meet you,” she called out as she ran for the safety of Brandon’s room. She tossed the robe onto the end of Brandon’s bed and sealed herself in his bathroom. It might be good to make sure she was fully dressed before any additional encounters with Brandon’s parents. She flipped on the shower and waited for the water to warm.

“Hey, sugar, let me in there,” Brandon called out.

Seconds later, she heard him jimmying the bathroom door lock. Within seconds, the door swung open. Emily felt the rush of cool air on her skin as he shut it behind him. He stepped out of his boxer briefs.

“Let’s conserve water,” he coaxed.

Despite the fact she’d welcome his company in the shower any other time, she flung out an arm and pointed in the general direction of Brandon’s hallway. “Your mom is here. Withyour dad! I’ll be out in a minute.”

He grinned like she’d said the most hilarious thing he’d ever heard. Before she had a chance to duck under his arm, he reached out to pull her against him. He kissed her, sweet and slow. She wound her arms around his neck. He didn’t seem to need the encouragement. He was already hard against her.

“Stop it,” she said, but there was no heat behind her words.

“What’s the problem? We’re adults.”

“I don’t want your parents to think I’m some kind of ho.”

It was a bit late to be fretting about what Jack and Suzanne McKenna thought of her. She was torn between embarrassment over the fact that an awful lot of people knew they’d been caught in the act in public, and the fact that there weren’t many women who wouldn’t have done the same damn thing.

“You worry too much.” He pulled her hips against his. “Let’s see how quiet we can be.”

“We’reneverquiet. You know this.”

“I’m willing to give it a try, sugar, if you are.” He zeroed in on the spot behind her earlobe that always left her a quivering wreck. “C’mon.”

She summoned whatever resistance she could, reached out, and shut off the shower with one hand.

“Playtime’s over,” he said. He shook his head. “I’m in trouble now.”

She took a few deep breaths and willed her racing heart (and hormones) to slow down.

“Speaking of worrying, Bruiser, we need to have a little chit-chat before we make an appearance at the breakfast table.” She took his face in her hands. “Our mothers are expecting us to take some role in planning our wedding, but there’s just one problem.”

He raised one eyebrow. His arms tightened around her. He rocked against her, barely moving. “What might that be?”

“You never actually proposed to me.”

She wanted answers, but she was starting to wonder why this conversation was quite so important at the moment. He was moving against other parts of her body that left her more flustered than kisses on the spot behind her ear. Her breathing quickened.

His face was a mask of outraged innocence. “I most certainly did. I seem to remember a conversation about getting married in the First Church of Elvis, and I also seem to remember we’re getting married February fifteenth. You’re wearing my five-carat diamond ring. Pretty damn official, sugar.” He was backing her up against the shower door, still rocking, slowly, so slowly. “I don’t see a problem at all.”

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