Page 24 of His Secret Virgin
Chapter 10
Emma
The whole first week of work, Mr. Taylor and I ate our daily snack together. We somehow ended up going at the same time each day, running into each other every day. And I always loved the special Yollie made. Although the PB&J had been my favorite.
When Saturday came, I faked a stomachache, and Dad let me stay home. But he did tell me that I would have to go the next time Christopher invited us. Dad wasn’t of the same mind as his friend when it came to my explanation of why I didn’t want to be forced to meet Christopher’s daughters.
That didn’t surprise me much. But one way my father did surprise me—quite pleasantly, I might add—was when he told me how great I looked in my business attire and how much he approved of the new look. The tiny bit of makeup I’d been wearing was okay by him. Most of my skin was still makeup-free. I didn’t use foundation, just a little bit of brown mascara, pink blush, and pink lip stain.
I’d grown to love it so much, I don’t think I would’ve stopped even if he hadn’t approved.
At the end of the first week, everything seemed to be going well. But then Monday rolled around. When I set out to get our mid-morning snack, Mr. Taylor was nowhere to be seen. Tuesday came, and the same thing happened. Wednesday had my shoulders sagging as there was still no sign of him.
Has he grown bored with our daily conversations?
I couldn’t help but think that he had to be avoiding me. Maybe he felt the tension between us, too—which I thought might be sexual. Perhaps he didn’t feel it, and only I did. Maybe I had imagined it all. Or more likely, he’d only been being nice to me for my father’s sake.
Little by little as each day passed, I began to think I’d been a fool for ever believing that a man my father’s age would actually be attracted to me.
Walking alone to Yollie’s café, I thought back on my past encounters with him. The way it felt like pure fire running through my veins every time Christopher touched me. The way his hazel eyes lit up when he saw me in the corridor. The way his voice changed and got deeper once we were sitting alone together in the café.
Sure, I didn’t know a thing about romance, love, sex. Even so, my body seemed to be running on instinct. It felt hot when he came close. It cooled when we parted ways. And my mind stayed on Mr. Christopher Taylor all day long—and all night, too.
I picked out clothes to impress him. I put my hair in styles I thought he might like. I wore perfumes and washed my hair and body with the scent of honeysuckles because I’d heard him murmur that word when I walked past him that first day in the café.
Everything I could think to do to entice him, I did. And then he went and hid from me the very next week.
Val told me I’d been crazy to think a grown man like him would ever want to be with me. Not that I wasn’t a catch, but he had people to impress. A twenty-year-old on a playboy’s arm is one thing, she’d said. A twenty-year-old on a billionaire business tycoon’s arm is quite another.
Deep down, I knew she was right about everything, but it didn’t sting any less.
When Thursday came, I’d lost all hope that I’d ever get the chance to feel Mr. Taylor’s beautiful hands roam over my entire body.
I might’ve been inexperienced when it came to sex—hell, I’d never even had an orgasm—but that didn’t mean I didn’t have those urges. The truth was, no matter how heated my thoughts about Christopher Taylor became in the middle of the night, I fretted about giving myself that ultimate pleasure. I worried that I might scream like a wildcat when I came for the first time. If my parents heard that, I would most likely die of embarrassment.
So all I was left with were my thoughts and daydreams, and as the days passed without any contact with Mr. Taylor, even those were tinged by a feeling of hopelessness.
The end of the workday on Thursday came, and I felt like a deflated balloon. With only one more day left in the work week, I pretty much knew I would not so much as set my eyes on the gorgeous, and now elusive, Christopher Taylor.
Walking out to the parking garage, I saw my father just ahead of me. “Hey Dad, you leaving too?”
He stopped, turning to look at me. “Hey there, honey. You look kind of blue. Rough day?”
It hadn’t been rough at all. Mrs. Kramer made sure her game always ran smooth. “Nah. Maybe I’m just a little tired. I’m still getting used to this schedule.”
“Yeah,” Dad put his arm around me, and I rested my head on his shoulder. “Your old job at the boutique doesn’t even compare to this one, does it? But I’ve got to tell you that I’m the proudest I’ve ever been of you, sweetie.”
“You are?” I raised my head to look him in the eyes to make sure he’d told me the truth. I couldn’t remember Dad ever telling me he was proud of me.
“Of course,” he said with a genuine smile. “Emma, you jumped in to help your family when you shouldn’t have had to. I thought we’d be just about broke right now. And now that I’m able to cover all the bills again, you’ve got yourself a nice little salary of your own. And I’m very proud of the way you’ve been conducted yourself at the office; I’ve only been hearing glowing reviews.”
“Dad.” I put my head back on his shoulder, giving him a hug and squeezing him tight. “You’re the best dad ever.”
“Aw, hearing that never gets old.” He kissed the top of my head, making me feel a little bit better than I had been earlier.
“Sebastien, wait up,” I heard a deep voice coming from behind us.
Christopher!
