Page 88 of Blitzing Emily

One of the female reporters spoke up. “What were you thinking, Brandon?”

“What’s any man thinking when he’s alone with the woman he loves?”

A wave of laughter cascaded through the room.

“How’d you feel about the fine?” another reporter asked.

“It’s the best twenty-five thousand dollars I’ve ever spent.” He grinned at the guy. “I think we’re done here. Thanks, everyone.”

People yelled out questions about Brandon’s contract and would he be signing for another year with the team. He saw Emily surrounded by reporters. He hoped she knew the two magic words: “No comment.”

He threw himself into the crowd. At last, he grabbed her hand. “Let’s go, sugar.” He swept her out of the room.

More reporters and at least one news crew ran after them. Brandon hustled Emily through a door marked “Staff and Players,” shutting it behind them, and pulled her through another doorway and out into the parking lot.

“If we run fast, we might make it,” he said.

DESPITE TRYING TOblush herself into a coma, Emily was proud of how Brandon handled a roomful of reporters. They threw themselves into the Land Rover and drove away just as the reporters arrived in the parking lot.

Brandon glanced over at Emily. “We’ll have to decide what we’d like for lunch.”

“I’m fine with almost anything.”

He played with her hand. She laced her fingers through his. Her voice was soft. “Those questions were pretty harsh.”

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “Just a day’s work. Not a big deal.”

Emily realized she was mad at him earlier for not being truthful with her, but this whole conversation proved what a hypocrite she was.

She was too chicken to ask him if he meant it when he told the reporter he loved her; she didn’t have the guts to bring it up.

“Somebody’s pretty quiet. Is something wrong?” Brandon said.

“No. Everything’s fine.”

“Now, I realize I’m a man and that makes me pretty much oblivious to this kind of thing, but I’ve had experience with that ‘everything’s fine’ stuff. Usually, it means something’s wrong.”

“I’m still thinking about the press conference,” Emily said. She was lying to him, after she let him have it for lying to her. God, she sucked.

“They wanted the details because it sells newspapers. I don’t like what they said about you. I know we both wanted publicity, but not this kind of publicity.” He shook his head. “I promise I’ll take care of this.”

“You don’t have to do that—”

“Trust me. I’ll handle it.” Brandon turned his attention to the road.

“Maybe I can help,” Emily said. “It’s not fair that you should take the heat by yourself. I was there, too.”

“Aren’t you sweet.” He flashed her a quick smile. “I know the press can be tough on women in these types of stories. They’re not so anxious to take me on, though.” He reached out for her hand again. “I hope you’re hungry. I’m starving. Let’s go get some pancakes, and then I’ll drop you off at your lesson. We’ll make some dinner later. I’ll teach you to make lasagna.”

“Will there be more kissing?” Emily asked.

“Absolutely.” He braked for a red light, and gazed into her eyes. “You’re my dessert. I do amazing things with chocolate sauce.”

Emily’s toes curled.

Chapter Seventeen

EMILY BREEZED THROUGHthe front door of Amy’s flower shop five minutes after she opened for the day, carrying two nonfat lattes and a box of baked goods. Amy narrowed her eyes at her sister.

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