What The Heart Knows Read online

  Emily closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths. The only thing worse than zombies was zombie kids.

  God, she probably wasn't even a fifth of the way through and she was losing her cool. The further you went, the worse it got. She needed to get a grip.

  Oh, no. Speaking of gripping... that was exactly what she was doing to Mr. Fancypants.

  “Well this is cozy,” a voice said behind her, amused. Maude.

  Emily yanked herself out of James' arms, feeling flustered. Almost guilty. Like a couple of teenagers getting caught necking by adults. She pulled her shoulders back, straightening the front of her sweatshirt. “Zombie kids,” she murmured.

  “Mmhmm,” Maude murmured, her eyes twinkling. “Sure,” she said, walking past, looking into the wall of cornstalks and saying, “Billy... you tell your mama I hope she gets better,” then walked slowly, casually, away.

  “I guess it's kind of hard to scare the town psychic, huh?” James asked, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.

  “Yeah, well, where's the fun in that?” Emily asked, shouldering past him and taking the next turn.

  James stayed silent several feet behind her as she walked herself into two dead ends. She yelped at a lunging spider controlled by a pad on the ground, discreetly covered in hay. “You know if you put your right hand out when you enter a maze...”

  “It will lead you to the exit,” Emily finished. “I know. But it's more fun to run around lost,” she smiled over her shoulder at him.

  They walked in silence for a few minutes, the path narrow enough to brush their shoulders, narrowing more as they kept going. Emily felt her stomach clench at the idea of not being able to turn around and run away. And then she felt a hand on her arm and she struggled against it.

  But then it was James, turning her slightly and pushing her back against the haystack supported cornstalks. The sticks nipped at her through her sweatshirt but she only had a second to register that before his body pressed into hers, his hands at the sides of her face, holding her still as his lips crushed into hers.

  She felt the contact in her belly first, exploding outward, sparking, making her skin feel electric, wired. This was what she wanted in the orchard. This raw, uninhibited, animalistic devouring. His teeth sank into her lower lip, hard, painful, but sending a jolt of desire straight into her core. His hands stayed at her jaw, holding her there, tilting her face when he wanted her to. His tongue pushed into her mouth, sliding over hers. Emily groaned, her hands going up to grab his shoulders, pulling him toward her body tighter.

  James' knee pushed up between her thighs, pressing into the wall behind her. His pelvis rocked against hers, drawing a whimper out of her throat. One of her thighs slid upward, moving to wrap around his hip.

  She needed him closer. She could feel his hardness pressing into her lower stomach. If he would just dip his pelvis down slightly, she could press forward and find some relief. Not what she really wanted, but something to ease the pulsating need between her thighs.

  One of his hands slipped down, grabbing the neck of her sweatshirt and pulling it to the side, giving him access to the skin below. His lips landed there a second later, a quick kiss before his teeth dug into her skin. Her head fell backward, looking up toward the sky. Who would have thought pretty city boy would be so take charge and sexy? Her hands moved to the back of his neck, holding him against her as his teeth retreated and his lips replaced them.

  She dropped her hips, thrusting forward, feeling his cock press against her clit. She groaned loudly, her hands slipping down to grab the bare skin of his bicep.

  Above her, Charlie's arm shot out, pointing somewhere near them. Then the whooshing in her ears disappeared and she heard it. The sound of people approaching. James must have heard it too because he sprang away from her, turning with a charming, unaffected smile just as people walked into view.

  “Dead end guys,” he said, his tone even, cheerful.

  The teens groaned, taking turns turning and starting back the way they came.

  Emily straightened, taking a deep, shaky breath. Damn him for seeming so collected. Every nerve ending on her body felt overworked and the unsatisfied sexual tension left her frustrated, almost to the point of emotional. She blinked her eyes rapidly as he turned back to her, the edge of his lips turned up in a smirk. Like he was about to say something smart-ass-y.

  Emily squared her shoulders. “Well,” she said, noting her tone sounded a little breathy but detached and cool. “of all of the mediocre performances in this maze today, that takes the first place prize,” she said, slamming into his shoulder as she passed, taking on a long-legged but unhurried pace.

  Jesus Christ. How had she let that happen again? What was wrong with her? Granted, what woman did want someone to take them in a powerful, manly way? But that was no excuse. She needed to get some control over herself. Her hormones.

  Behind her, James' arm snagged an arm around her belly, holding her still and she felt herself lean back against him. He stood there not moving for a moment and then his other hand was sliding up her inner thigh, squeezing it slightly before pressing against her heat.

  Emily moaned, her head falling back onto his shoulder. His breath was warm on her ear and she felt herself shiver. “I think the only poor performance here,” he said, his finger pressing once against her clit. “is you trying to pretend you don't want me.”

  Emily lurched forward, almost stumbling over his feet on the sides of her shoes. That bastard.

  “Can you repeat that for me?” she said, sounding surly and not caring. “I want to get it right for the sexual harassment claim.”

  James laughed, a short humorless sound. He pushed past her, slapping her ass hard as he went around her. “Before I am done in this town, I'll have you,” he said and walked away.

  She stood there silent, watching his back until he disappeared. What the actual fuck? She waited a long time, hearing a few groups move past her, chatting, screaming, before she finally fell back into step. Emily walked the rest of the way in a sort of numb haze, barely even registering the scary things around her.

  She hated him all the more for that. He ruined something she waited all year for.

  Emily made her way back to town, taking a small amount of pleasure in slamming the kitchen door as hard as she could, no matter how childish it was. She grabbed a leftover salad out of the refrigerator and made her way to her room. Part of her wanted to storm upstairs and give him a piece of her mind. But a bigger, smarter part realized going to his room would be a bad idea. His room. With the king sized bed. Yeah... no.

  She needed distance. She needed some time to get out of her sour mood and get herself in a better mental and emotional state before the dance later. It would be packed there. She wouldn't have to face him if she didn't want to. And she definitely did not want to.

  Even if that kiss made her see through space and time for a moment.

  Even if her body was just begging for him to touch it.

  She showered an hour before the event started, taking a long time to get her hair straight and sleek. It would be down for a change. She painstakingly applied a light purple eyeshadow and perfect red lipstick. Then she pulled the dress out. Red. Sequined. Strapless. Floor-length. With a slit from the bottom all the way up to her hip. It fit like a second skin and she had a moment to wish she had a slightly more voluptuous frame for it to hang on as she pulled purple bicep-high gloves up her arms.

  Jessica Rabbit.

  She had made it a point over the years to seek out costumes meant for redheads. But she also always wanted the excuse to be sexy. So she had gone with Ariel one year with her exposed belly and shell bra. She had spent hours sewing greenery onto a leotard then slipped into bright green tights and said leotard. Poison Ivy. Then there had been a sequined corset, striped silk shorts, fishnets, a hat, and bright pink rouge. Magenta from The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

  But this was the year. The year she finally decid
ed to say screw it and dress as sexy Jessica Rabbit... despite her straight up-and-down thinness.

  And she was so excited about it.

  Until James Michaels stormed into her life.

  Emily sighed, shaking her head. She was going to have a good time no matter what. She stepped into her heels and moved toward the mirror to touch up her lipstick. And that's when she saw them. Right on the spot where neck met shoulder. Two small red and purple spots that were, unmistakably, hickeys.

  That asshole.

  She stormed into the kitchen, making Meggie, dressed as a fifties girl complete with a black and white striped shirt tucked into a pink poodle skirt with a matching pink ribbon tied to her neck, drop the corn muffin she was eating. “Wow,” she said, brushing crumbs off of the counter. “I mean... wow. You look great.” She watched Emily storm to the refrigerator and dig in the freezer. “What's the matter?”

  “I need ice,” she said, grabbing a cube and holding it to her neck.

  “Why what happened?” she asked, raising an eyebrow when Emily refused to answer, just stared awkwardly at the mary janes on Meggie's feet. Meggie moved closer, reaching for Emily's neck. “What are you hidin... oh,” Meggie said, the sound coming out airy. And then a giggle, light and girlish, escaped Meggie's lips and before they knew it, they were both laughing hysterically, Emily still holding the ice to her neck. “So you got lucky with Mr. Boss Man, huh?”

  “More like he accosted me in the maze of death.”

  “Oh you loved it, admit it. That man is yummy.”

  “He's an arrogant, egomaniac...”

  “Someone must be talking about me,” James' voice came from behind them, sounding a little different than usual.

  Meggie laughed, shaking her head at the two of them. “Alright, well, I don't want to be... ah... late...” she said, picking up on the tension between them. “So... yeah, I am going.”

  Emily refused to turn around, standing facing the sink, ignoring that he even existed. The fucker had branded her and he thought he was going to get some kind of light, playful conversation in the kitchen? Yeah, no. That wasn't happening.

  There was an awkward silence for a moment before James chuckled and she heard his feet moving toward the exit. “Spoons work on love bites you know,” he said and then there was the swinging sound of the door.

  Emily narrowed her eyes, grabbing a spoon and working it in firm circles over the marks. Knowing it was hopeless. All the more angry with him for pissing her off again just minutes before the dance. She was going to need ten of Maude's Widow Makers to get through the night.

  Seven

  James breathed in the crisp autumnal air as he walked slowly toward the school, following the mobs of townspeople doing the same. From his understanding, the school was broken up into three different rooms. A room for the small children, ten and under. Not scary. Full of movies and endless heaps of sugar. Then the older kids, everyone between eleven and eighteen, had another room, completely decked out in dark and gore. There would be a DJ there, playing thumping shock rock while the teens did... whatever teens did when they were together. Lastly, there was the gym. For the adults. Which would be set up with tables and a dance floor.

  And there would, thankfully, be alcohol.

  He needed to drink until he stopped thinking about Emily so much. He was a mess of interest and sexual frustration. The little episode in the haunted maze had just sent him over the edge. He knew he was attracted to her, but he hadn't anticipated how strongly he would respond to her. It was unnerving. And he still didn't even see what that Jessica Rabbit getup looked like from the front. Hopefully he would be three drinks in before he had to deal with that.

  What a choice for outfits.

  There would be jaws scraping the floor all night.

  Hell, he would be lucky if he didn't drool all over his damn self.

  Everyone filed in the building in a long line, stopping at the desk. Parents signed in their kids and watched as they got led away by the volunteer chaperons. Adults got carded at the desk, everyone twenty-one and under getting a waterproof stamp on their hands.

  “I'm afraid I am going to need to see some identification,” Maude drawled, looking him up and down.

  James smiled, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. As Maude looked over his license and wrote his name down, he emptied all his cash into a collection bowl shaped like a pumpkin with a sign that said “decorations and booze”. If there was ever a good cause to give to, it was party liquor.

  Maude handed him back his license, pointed the way to the gym, and told him to stop by later and pick up a drink called a Widow Maker.

  The gym had been completely transformed. There wasn't a hint of the typical padded walls, bleachers, or shiny light wood floors. Everything was black. The walls had been lined with thin black tissue paper. The floor was painted black with a huge white webbed pattern. There were round tables around the center of the room. Each table had a black tablecloth over an orange tablecloth. A pumpkin sat in the center of each, a towering black tree sticking out of it with orange lanterns hanging off the bare branches.

  The stage was lined in front with long rectangular tables, overflowing with various foods for everyone to pick at. On top of the stage was a DJ dressed as a pirate.

  He had been to more than his fair share of parties in his day. College had demanded costumed parties several times a month. Hell, he had even been to a highbrow masquerade ball... in an actual ballroom. But nothing had come close to even comparing to the epic dedication Stars Landing had to their event.

  Every single person was dressed, sipping blood-red drinks out of goblets or lime green shots from science test tubes.

  The strawberries on the fruit platter were dipped in white chocolate with ghost faces drawn on them, the clementines were peeled with tootsie rolls poking out as stems.

  Every last little detail was attended to. You couldn't look in any direction and see something that wasn't screaming Halloween.

  James had barely gotten five feet in when he saw Lena, dressed as a sexy nurse, leaning into a tall, good-looking man dressed as a T-Bird. That must have been Eric. The man who had dulled the rampant materialistic ambition that Lena had clung to like a lifesaver.

  “James,” Lena called, moving toward him, her boyfriend keeping a possessive arm around her. “This is Eric,” she said, nudging Eric with her hip. “This is James. ”

  Eric smiled, a weird, sly look on his face. “The one dealing with Em?” he asked and James nodded. Eric laughed, rapping James on the shoulder. “I'm gonna go get you a shot.”

  Lena eyed James when Eric walked away. “You actually look... stressed,” she said, brows drawing together. “I don't think I have ever seen you stressed out before.”

  James shrugged. “And I've never seen you... not stressed out before. Things change, sweetheart.”

  Lena eyed him for a second, then a slow smile spread on her face. “She's getting to you.” Eric came back, a plastic tray of test tubes in his hands and James downed two quickly. Lena threw back a shot and laughed. “Women never get to you.”

  “First time for everything,” James said.

  “Speak of the devil,” Eric said, nodding his head toward the side where Emily was getting one of Maude's Widow Maker drinks. “Hey, Em,” Eric called, a smirk playing at his lips. “Nice hickeys.”

  Emily felt her eyes go round. Behind her, someone laughed. Did he have to yell that across the room? She thought the marks had gotten a lot better. But of course that former manwhore could spot love marks from a mile away.

  She wanted to throw her drink in his face.

  It wasn't the attention to her obvious necking session that bothered her. It was no secret that Emily was a woman who enjoyed a healthy sex life. It was the idea that anyone might put two and two together and assume it was James who had done the deed. Especially since she hadn't exactly been burning up the social scene lately.

  She dr
ank her red drink in one long swig and got another. She needed more than a little alcoholic lubrication to get through the night that was already starting to chafe.

  She stepped back from the refreshment stand to take everything in. The decorations that seemed to get all the more flawless with each passing year. There were hundreds of costumes from store bought to hand made. Devon, dressed as Where's Waldo, was chatting up some girl who worked up the hill at the lodge dressed in full-on Victorian garb. There were women as sexy versions of everything or scary versions of everything. Men in cowboy/zombie/pimp/hippie costumes. If there was one thing she liked about Stars Landing on Halloween, it was the commitment to it.

  Maybe she should find some other guy to spend her night feigning interest in. There was Alec who cared for the stables at the inn. He was always her go-to flirting target. Even though he never bit. Unfortunately for her, the eligible Stars Landing men were getting snatched up like crazy in the last few years. Her options were becoming limited.

  She had just spotted Alec when she felt someone move in to stand next to her. She didn't have to look to know who it was. Every inch of her skin felt tight and tingling with anticipation. A feeling that she was trying really hard to blame on the Widow Makers.

  “That is quite a costume,” he said, his voice dipped low.

  Emily took a deep breath, drinking the rest of her drink, before turning. He was in all black. Black combat boots, black trench coat, black clothes underneath. His hair was slicked back. His eyes... his eyes were a freaky, disconcerting red color. “You know... goth isn't a costume,” she said, trying to keep eye contact.