Michael patted his stomach. “You like the extra cushion?”
Emily giggled. “Love it.”
Wearing a proud smile, Michael turned to Gavin. “Hey, buddy. Good to see you again.”
Gavin accepted Michael’s hand. “You too, man. How’ve you been?”
“You know. Same old. Just be careful with this one,” he said, jerking his chin in Emily’s direction, a grin smothering his face. “If you stay with her long enough and she ever learns to cook, she might turn you into a fat slob the way her sister did me.”
Gavin chuckled. “I’ll take whatever she can give me. Even the clogged arteries.”
“Good man.” Michael patted Gavin’s shoulder. “We’re about to get this show started. Who’s ready for some kickass food?”
Feeling her stomach growl, Emily grabbed Gavin’s hand and started for the dining room, dragging him along. “I am.” She plucked a basket of rolls from the counter and craned her head back to look at Gavin. “You’re ready to eat, right?”
“Depends on what I’m eating,” he whispered into her ear, his tone seductive. Wrapping his free hand around her waist, he pressed his pelvis against her ass. “Unless my assumption of keeping you from getting away was wrong, I’d like to enjoy my dessert somewhere on your body after dinner.”
Sucking in a deep breath and tingles overtaking every inch of her, Emily stopped and watched Michael and Phil breeze into the dining room. Phil’s eyes locked on hers until he disappeared around the corner.
Emily spun around, her gaze catching the sexiest baby blues ever placed upon a man’s face. “Gavin Blake, you listen to me right now.” Her eyes dropped to his luscious lips forming a smartass smirk. She bit her own lip in an effort to cause pain that might possibly distract her. It didn’t work. Gavin stepped closer, and the smell of his cologne completely fucked up her plans. God, she wanted him. Bad. Her heart jumped into her throat as he nuzzled his nose against her hair. She tried to breathe. “You’re not listening to me.”
“I’m all ears, sweets,” he said, his voice low. “Talk to me.”
“You’re making it difficult,” she breathed.
And he was because his hand was now lightly rubbing the back of her neck, his eyes drilling into hers. “I’m making it difficult for you to speak?”
“Yes, you bastard. You are,” she whispered.
Gavin chuckled. “God, I love it when you get nasty. You have no idea how much it turns me on.”
Wanting to melt into him right there, Emily poked her head into the dining room. Everyone was already seated and waiting for them. She turned back to him, her voice becoming heated. “Gavin, are you going to make me beg you to stop?”
Gavin blinked. “Are you trying to get me to take you right here in the kitchen?”
Shaking her head and about ready to let him do exactly that, Emily laughed and reached for his hand, once again pulling him along. The escape into the dining room was quick but comical as she heard Gavin release a dejected sigh. She felt bad, but considering he commanded a room by simply being in it, she loved knowing she had power over him.
“So how’d she do on the flight, Gavin?” Michael asked. “Did you need to drug her up?”
Emily rolled her eyes as Gavin pulled out her seat. “No, he didn’t have to drug me up.”
Lounging into the chair next to her, Gavin smirked, slipped his hand under the table, and rested it on Emily’s thigh. Drawing tiny circles along her silk skirt, he smiled when he felt her shift. “I was able to talk her down. It was easier than I expected, though.”
“Good,” Michael said, dumping a pile of green beans onto his plate.
“I’m sure being on a private jet helped some,” Lisa said, reaching for a bowl of mashed potatoes. After scooping some out, she handed them to Emily. “Those seven-forty-sevens scare the shit out of me.”
“Private jet?” Phil stared in shock across the table. “Did you hit the lotto?”
Gavin turned to Emily, a lazy smile on his face.
She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “In more ways than one,” she whispered. Gavin squeezed her thigh, his smile widening. Emily shoveled some mashed potatoes onto her plate. Looking at Gavin, her eyes questioned if he wanted some. Gavin nodded, and she served him up a pile. “No, Phil, the jet’s Gavin’s. And, Lisa, you’re correct. It’s better than flying on seven-forty-sevens. But either way, you’re still in the air where humans don’t belong. I hate it.”
Gavin and Michael chuckled.
“Shit,” Lisa chimed, standing to her feet. “What are you two drinking?” she asked, looking at Emily and Gavin.
“Red wine,” Emily answered.
“Thank you,” Gavin said. “I’ll take a beer if you have one.”
Lisa nodded and whisked off to the kitchen.
Leaning back, Phil crossed his arms. “A man who owns a jet drinks a simple beer? I would’ve thought someone who could afford such a luxury would prefer something more refined. Looks can be deceiving.”
Emily’s eyes flew from Gavin—clenching his jaw—to Michael, his hand halted with his fork inches from his mouth. She swallowed nervously, placing her hand over Gavin’s on her thigh.
Amusement at the asshole’s statement glimmered in Gavin’s eyes as he leaned back, crossing his arms. “I wasn’t aware there were rules to what one should drink whether they’re rich, poor, or somewhere in the middle, Phil. It’d be interesting to hear how you formed this opinion, though.”
Lisa emerged from the kitchen and handed Emily and Gavin their drinks.
Gavin popped the top off the bottle, leaned over, and placed a luscious kiss on Emily’s lips as he slid the cap into her palm. Leaving Emily breathless, he returned his attention to Phil. A simpering smile broke out across Gavin’s face as he continued. “What’s your source of information? Reader’s Digest? Newsday? Perhaps a woman’s magazine?” Before he let Phil answer his barrage of questions, Gavin leaned back over to Emily and whispered, “I owed you a bottle cap since the last few times I drank, I forgot to give you one. I’m sorry.”
Cupping his cheek, she stared into his eyes. “I love you. And I love your bottle caps more than you’ll ever know.”
Gavin quirked a brow. “Yeah? Even though I have a fuckload of money, you love my bottle caps? Should my caps be more… refined?”
“No,” she said breathlessly. “They’re perfect.”
“Are you sure?” he whispered, his eyes searching her face. “Phil and his semi-bald head might disagree.”
“Phil’s an asshole, and you’re perfect,” she whispered back, lacing her hands around his neck and pulling him in for another kiss. Uncaring that everyone seated at the table was most definitely watching them, Emily indulged in his lips for a few more seconds before pulling away.
Staring into her eyes, Gavin mouthed the word “Inhaling” before once again shooting his glare back to Phil. “Sorry about that. I find it hard to control myself where Emily’s concerned. I’m sure you understand. Oh wait. You couldn’t. She’s the one who got away.” Gavin threw him a wink and picked up his fork. “Back to what I was saying. Your source of information on such an outlandish assumption would be… what?”