What The Heart Knows Read online

  Once outside, Emily started her speech. “There are walking trails through the woods. Riding trails too. All of them are marked by certain colored ribbons.”

  “You seem... different,” James said, looking at her suddenly slumped shoulders. Her voice had lost some of its enthusiasm.

  Emily ignored the comment. “Here are the stables,” she said, pulling open the breezeway doors. “Alec is available from nine until six to give private riding lessons. Or to saddle up a horse for you to take on the trails.” She walked over and pet one of the horses faces. “This is Lila. She's new. And she hates men. Which makes her all the more awesome.”

  James smiled, watching her fawn over the tan mare. He walked up behind Emily, reaching past her and stroking the side of Lila's face. “She seems to like me well enough.”

  Oh my god. Was there no female of any species who could resist him? “Traitor,” she said to the horse, trying to step away. But James' body blocked her on one side and the stall blocked her on the other. If she shifted at all, she would be touching him somewhere.

  “Okay,” she said. “time for some professional distance there, Casanova.”

  He turned his face slightly, looking down at the freckles on her nose. “What's the matter? Afraid you're not going to be able to control yourself?”

  “Oh please,” Emily said, pushing backward and slamming into him. “I don't need any self control around you.”

  He wanted to take her right then and there. With her stubborn chin and hostile arms across her chest, coffee cup and all.

  “So what is next?” he asked, taking a big step back.

  “Luckily,” Emily said, taking a deep breath. “that is everything.”

  “What about showing me around one of these trails?”

  “Take Lila,” Emily said, moving toward the door. “she likes you better.”

  “Oh, Miss. Brennan,” he said at her retreating form. “you like me just fine.”

  He wanted to fight with her, he realized with a start. That was never his style. He preferred the charm them out of their socks (and every other article of clothing) method. It worked every time. And maybe it would work on Emily too. But he didn't want to charm her. He wanted to argue with her. He wanted to watch her light eyes squint at him and see her bite into her lip to keep herself from saying something she really wanted to say. He wanted to push her buttons until she could finally see that it was her attraction to him that made her hate him so much.

  She was going to try to find any way she could to avoid him. And he was planning on doing everything in his power to make sure she couldn't get away from him.

  Maybe there was some fun to be found in this silly little backwoods town after all.

  Four

  Emily went to bed early and somehow managed to sleep in late. She jumped out of bed, cursing James Michaels seven ways to Sunday, completely convinced he was the reason she was feeling so off. She took a quick shower, pulling her wet hair into a ponytail and went to her dresser for another round of: what is a professional inn manager supposed to wear?

  Eventually she settled on a pair of dark wash skinny jeans and a white long sleeved t-shirt. It would just have to do.

  She rushed into the kitchen, already finding it bustling with activity. Meggie was flipping french toast on the griddle, the other cooks running around filling various orders. Servers rushed in and out fetching drinks and food. Emily walked over to the coffee machine, pouring her soup cup portion and drinking it greedily.

  “Are you feeling alright?” Meggie asked, looking over her shoulder. “I've never seen you get up this late.”

  “I dunno. Just feeling a bit run down,” Emily said. “Was Lena here already?”

  Meggie laughed. “Hours ago,” she said, pointing over to the counter. “she brought apple tarts.”

  “She's an angel,” Emily groaned, going over to grab one. They had gotten along pretty well after the whole corporate espionage issue a few months before. Probably because she was such a phenomenal baker. And Emily had a huge appreciation for sweet things.

  “What the hell, woman?” Devon asked, coming into the kitchen, brows furrowed. “You sick?”

  “Okay, I get it,” Emily said, rolling her eyes and making her way to the dining room. “I'll never ever be late again.”

  She loved the dining room when it was busy. The noise. The collective energy. People talking over others, calling across tables. Waiters taking orders. The strong smell of syrup and coffee.

  Emily glanced over to a table in the corner, looking down at Maude with a pointed stare. “Don't go blamin' me for your tardiness,” she said, not bothering to look up.

  “Not a morning person, huh?” James' voice said to her side, making her jump slightly and spill coffee down her hand.

  “Damn it,” she said, shaking her hand. How had she not noticed him sitting there? She turned, finding him looking perfectly rested. His hair was a little windblown looking. He was wearing jeans with a gray band t-shirt with a charcoal gray blazer on top. Maybe she didn't have to worry so much about her wardrobe if this was how he thought professionals dressed. “I'm always up before everyone else,” she said, knowing it was true. Even if it wasn't true of that morning. “I had some things to catch up on,” she added, choosing not to tell him that it was sleep.

  “Join me,” he said, watching her posture get straighter and straighter as she looked at him.

  “No,” she said, too quickly. “No,” she added, her tone a little softer. “I should go check on the front desk.”

  “Devon has it handled,” he said, waving to the seat across from him. He wasn't going to take no for an answer.

  Emily sat down. “If by 'handled' you mean he's playing on his phone...” she added.

  “That's exactly what I meant,” James smiled. He picked up his menu. “So what is good here?”

  “Everything. Meggie has hired a great staff.”

  James nodded. “What did you have?”

  “An apple tart,” she said, wishing she could go grab another.

  “Hmm,” James said, shrugging and putting down the menu.

  “Are you gonna have one?”

  “No,” he winked. “I'm sweet enough already.”

  Emily rolled her eyes, throwing her arm with her coffee cup out to the side to block the aisle as a waiter tried to pass. “Fill it,” she said, looking up at the young male waiter.

  He lowered his brows at her, filled her cup with the pot he was walking around with, and said, “Now get the hell out of my way.”

  Emily laughed, shaking her head.

  “He seems... pleasant,” James said, brow raised.

  “Your brother loved him when he was here.”

  “Of course he did,” James nodded. He was just the kind of server Elliott would appreciate. Cold, efficient, completely unconcerned with pleasantries.

  Emily watched in frustrated silence as James ordered his food and put sugar in his coffee. She had a million things she needed to get done and he was making her keep him company while he ate breakfast.

  “So,” James said, producing one of the pamphlets from the front desk. “you are going to take me out and show me the town today.”

  “Yes, master,” she drawled, her fingers tapping on the tabletop.

  “Come on, you know you'd rather be out enjoying the fall weather than cooped up collecting plates and fluffing pillows.”

  “Sure,” she said. “just not with you.”

  “Awe,” he said, lounging backward, a hand to his chest. “my poor ego.”

  Emily stood up as his food arrived. “Your ego could use to be taken down a few notches. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to try to fit an entire day of work into the next half an hour.”

  She tore into reception, pushing Devon out of the way and taking the faxes out of the machine.

  “You're in a mood,” Devon said, looking up from his phone.

  “He wants me to be his tou
r guide to the friggen town all day. Like I don't have anything else I need to do with my time.”

  “There really isn't anything to do today. Everyone is going to be getting ready for Halloween. And we only have two other guests right now...”

  “There's always work to be done,” she countered, opening the mail.

  “No,” Devon said, smiling. “there is always work you find to do. And then redo. And then do again because you cant sit still for five minutes.”

  “Why don't you take him?” she asked, tossing papers into the shredding pile.

  “Because I asked you to take me,” James said, enjoying the look of horror on her face because she was caught with her foot in her mouth. Again.

  “How did you eat your food that quickly?” Emily asked, reaching for the lightweight short brown leather coat underneath the desk and slipping it on. “Do you unhinge your jaw or something?”

  “Right,” James smiled, watching her grab a wallet and slip it into her jacket pocket. “because I'm a snake.”

  Emily smiled as she walked past him. “Ready for your tour, Mr. Fancypants?” she asked, already walking out onto the porch. There really wasn't much in the immediate town to see. A few stores to look through. Nothing grand. Everything event-wise happened on the farms surrounding town. But he didn't know that and she certainly wasn't going to tell him. So the tour could be over in an hour or two if he didn't dawdle.

  They walked down the street, Emily keeping her eyes stubbornly ahead. “Are you always this quiet,” James started. “or are you just struck dumb by how attractive I am? Don't be embarrassed,” he went on, smiling as she fought to not laugh. “it's happened before... it will happen again. Another couple years and I am gonna have that silver fox thing going for me and then I'll be absolutely irresistible.”

  He was pretty damn irresistible as it was. She was having to work to remember why she was so angry at him. He was trying to steal her inn from her. Hell, he already had. He was in charge. And she was just being forced to lose a day of work to accompany him on some asinine whim. Like he couldn't walk in and out of stores by himself.

  “No,” she said finally.

  “No what?” he asked, holding the door of the grocery store open.

  “No I'm not struck dumb by your attractiveness,” she said, looking up at him with a smirk. “Get over yourself. And, no, I am not usually quiet.”

  “Just determined to hate me then,” he mused, looking over a corkboard of local events right inside the doors. “Don't worry... I'll wear you down. Oh,” he said, pointing toward a flier. “let's go pumpkin picking.”

  “Seriously?” Emily asked, brows raised.

  “Yep,” he said, reaching over and grabbing her hand. “I'll drive.”

  She tried to ignore his hand on hers. She really did. And she certainly wasn't going to lace her fingers through his, no matter how strong an urge she had to do so. He pulled her along the street, back toward the inn. His car was a late model, silver, sleek, and expensive. Of course. He walked her toward the passenger side, opening the door and letting her slide in.

  “So what does this have to do with the acquisition of the inn?” she asked as he started the car and they drove out of the town and toward the farms.

  “Not everything is about work, you know,” he said, shrugging. “Besides... tomorrow is Halloween. You gotta have a pumpkin.”

  Miller Farm was the place for pumpkin picking. And apple, peach, blueberry, blackberry... pretty much all the berry picking. Where some of the other farms were hosting haunted houses and haunted hayrides and mazes, Miller was strictly a pick-your-own kind of place. There were only a few cars parked out front when they pulled up.

  “Alright,” James said, rubbing his hands together. “show me to the pumpkins.”

  Emily grabbed a wheelbarrow and pushed it toward the field, covered in hay just to look festive. “It's late. All the really good ones are gone,” Emily said, putting the wheelbarrow down and walking up and down the field trying to find a big, undamaged one, completely at a loss for why she was even bothering. A few rows away, James was leaning over trying to push a massive pumpkin onto its side, checking for damage. “I found mine,” he declared, squatting and trying to pick it up and falling none too ceremoniously onto his ass. “Get over here and help me, woman,” he laughed.

  Emily dropped her more manageable pumpkin into the wheelbarrow and went to help him lift the huge orange ball that probably weighed as much as she did. They finally got it into the cart and James looked up at her, a huge boyish smile on his face. It was right in that moment that she knew she was in trouble. Because she found herself smiling back, happy, light. Like children.

  “Alright, now it's time to pick apples,” James declared, grabbing the handles for the wheelbarrow and taking off toward the lines of trees.

  “It's a little late for apples,” she called, following behind him.

  “Oh, we'll find some,” he said, looking over his shoulder at her. She was still being distant. He thought that if he got her out of the inn and doing something silly and distracting that she would warm up to him a little more. He might enjoy a little head butting and wit trading with her, but he didn't want her to be completely surly toward him all the time.

  It was a first for him. He never really needed to work to make a woman like him. Even without all the compliments and charm, he was warm and funny. Women just naturally responded to it.

  James dropped the wheelbarrow at the end of a long row of squat apple trees, walking down and looking for some leftovers or late bloomers.

  “I told you,” Emily said, feeling almost a little disappointed for him. “it's late. September is usually best for apple picking.”

  “Nah, you just need to know where to look,” he said, pointing toward the top of the tree.

  Emily walked up next to him, looking up. And sure enough, there were four bright red apples sitting way above reach. “You know how to climb a tree, Mr. Fancypants?” she asked, looking over at him. When had he gotten so close?

  “No,” he said shaking his head, smiling. “but I bet you do.”

  Of course she did. Any self-respecting childhood involved climbing, and falling out of, a tree or two. But she wasn't eight years old anymore. And the limbs on the apple trees didn't look very sturdy. “I don't think so,” she said, shaking her head.

  “What's the matter?” he said right next to her ear, his warm breath making her shiver slightly. “Are you scared?”

  Was she scared of falling out of a tree and breaking an arm in a town that really didn't have a doctor anymore? Was she worried about the possibility of having a cast put on by the local vet? Yeah. Pretty much. But she damn sure wasn't going to let him know that. “Nope,” she said reaching for the lowest branch. “not at all.”

  She cursed herself as she climbed, staying close to the trunk of the tree and trying to ignore James' leering eyes as she ascended. What did it matter if he thought she was worried about climbing some flimsy little tree? She was being stupid for the sake of her pride. If it had been any other guy she would have told him to fuck off... that they could climb up and she could watch their ass as they climbed.

  “They're right above your head,” James called out, wincing when he saw her feet teeter slightly on the branch as she reached.

  “No? Really?” she said, her tone dry as she hauled one of the perfect apples down at him, rolling her eyes when he managed to catch it before it whacked him in the head.

  She threw three more down at him before she started her descent. Which was far more nerve-wracking than the climb up. James was standing there, looking up at her, one bright red apple in the hand at his side. He needed to stop looking at her. She was having enough trouble getting down and his staring was making it hard to concentrate.

  Emily was on the second to last branch, stretching her legs downward toward the lowest hanging limb. She sat down on it for a second, taking a breath, swinging her feet like a kid. She
had to admit, it had been a really long time since she let herself do something so unplanned. Even when she let herself have a day off, she usually spent it mulling around the inn, catching up on paperwork in the office or helping Alec brush the horses. It was nice to go out and just... get out.

  And she was both thankful and annoyed with James for that. He wasn't supposed to show her a good time, damn him.

  One of James' arms reached up behind her hips, pulling her slightly forward, coaxing her toward the ground. God, how long had she been looking at him? She had the stomach-turning feeling it was longer than just a few seconds.

  He took a step forward, her legs brushing against his chest as she started to slip downward. The arm across her lower back pulled her forward and her body was pressed against his. His face was a breath away from her stomach. Emily felt her heartbeat start to pound painfully in her chest. What was he doing? She was only a few feet from the ground. She could easily just jump down. Was she supposed to put her arms around his neck? Was that his plan? Because if it was, he would be sorely disappointed. One of her hands reached for the limb behind her, the other fell limply to her side.

  Then his face was a mere whisper from the skin between her breasts. She felt her legs straighten as the ground got closer, her thighs pressing up against his hips, then legs. Her stomach slid down his chest, her breasts against his shoulder.

  She felt what little breath she had whoosh away, replaced by a strangling tightness in her lungs. His hand moved up her back as her toes finally touched solid ground, sliding up between her shoulder blades, then settling right behind the base of her neck, pressing.

  Emily looked into his eyes, finding them lacking their usual light, looking heavy and deeper than she had seen them. And then his hand was pushing her closer to him, she felt his breath whisper over her cheek as his eyes dipped lower. Her stomach twisted then turned upside down, feeling fluid and swirling.

  Before she could even register what was going on, his face dipped and his lips landed on hers. It was a soft kiss at first, teasing. Full of promises of something deeper, but refusing to deliver. His teeth grazed her bottom lip, biting softly and pulling, before his lips pushed against hers harder, sucking on her lip and dipping the tip of his tongue inside her mouth to play with hers, just a quick toying with the tip of hers for a quick second before retreating.