Only With You Read online

  "Sorry about that." She shook herself back to her senses. He released her slowly, and she was sore where his fingers had pressed into her hips.

  "Sure you're okay?" he asked. "You seem out of it."

  "I told you, Knight. Dazzling." Emma waved her hand dismissively. "We don't have much time."

  "Time for what?"

  "Come on, the back parlor is through here." She pulled him into the parlor room where her mother had lined the walls with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, each in pale Lucite that also reflected the sun. A projector screen was built into the ceiling and with a click of a button, they could order cinema-release movies.

  Emma had pictured a romantic scene taking place here between her two classmates.

  The girl: Anne Escobar. Anne had lost the love of her childhood boyfriend, Rick Wright, who she had dumped when he'd left town to go to military school. Unfortunately, his return was making her more miserable than ever. Hence the need for…

  The guy: Josh Wickham. The Academy's resident movie star had managed to alienate Emma and her friends…until he'd fallen in love and had his own heart broken. Everyone loved a reformed bad boy and that made him the perfect pick for Anne.

  Emma had high hopes for this weekend that would culminate in Anne and Josh in this very room. They would share a bowl of popcorn, order one of his movies, and cozy up together. Emma nearly sighed with the romance of it. "I need that chaise in the corner by the window."

  The sleeve of Knight's brown leather jacket crinkled at the elbows as he hung his hands on his hips. "A furniture emergency. That's a new one."

  "Trust me, this is important." It was the pinnacle, the climax, of her goals.

  "I broke every speed limit driving down here."

  "I'm glad to see you're in one piece."

  "Emma—"

  "I'll explain in a bit," she promised. "Once everyone arrives. I need this little, teensy-weensy—" she touched her two fingers together in front of her right eye "—itty-bitty favor first."

  Knight opened his mouth but seemed to think better of protesting and blew out a long, frustrated breath. He shrugged off his jacket, which he draped over a nearby loveseat, and then stomped over to the chaise. In one smooth motion, he hoisted it over the back of his broad shoulders so his soft, heather-gray T-shirt stretched the breadth of his chest.

  "Just over there." She pointed to the corner.

  He threw a dark look over his shoulder. "Who would sit in this dark corner by themselves?"

  Gregory Knight might be a senior to her junior, and might be taller and stronger than she was, but Emma Greene knew she was infinitely smarter, at least when it came to matchmaking. "Don't worry your pretty head about it, Knight."

  She had every intention of ensuring Anne found herself nuzzled in the corner with Josh, and Emma needed the ambiance to be perfect for the propitious couple when it happened. With a romantic movie and the view of the churning Pacific Ocean blazing orange against a warmly drenched sunset, how could they resist each other?

  "Please?" she added with a few bats of her eyelashes.

  Knight pivoted toward the corner and carried the chaise until he reached the round picture window nook. He flipped the chaise over and onto its curlicue hand-carved legs, which hit the floor with a thud. Using his knee, he pushed the chaise up to the window with a low grunt.

  "There. Satisfied?"

  "Not quite." Emma tilted her head toward the lush potted fern whose feather fronds would be the perfect cover for the inevitable couple. "Beside the chaise, please."

  Instead of picking up the pot, Knight stalked straight to Emma, wrapped his arms around her waist, and hefted her against him. She let out a quick, if embarrassed, squeal. She supposed she could have beat against his chest or demanded to be let down, because he would, indeed, set her down if she asked. But for the moment she admitted there was something rather pleasant about being held by Knight.

  Which wasn't surprising. He was quite the catch. He was more than smart—he was clever. He looked great in a suit, even better in jeans. He had quite possibly the warmest brown eyes in the entire Academy. He smelled amazing with that light, spicy cologne he always wore. Knight could be boyfriend material…if he weren't so bossy, so contrary, so intent on questioning her all the time and doubting her every move, on changing her.

  She had dragged Knight kicking and screaming on several missions of a hijinksish nature, and she liked to think she knew what made Knight tick. Right now, he was in the midst of making a point and he wouldn’t stop until it had been made. Instead of protesting, she clung to his shoulders and went along for the ride.

  Her short, bare legs dangled against the rough denim of his jeans as he crossed the room and set her down in a rather ungraceful lump on the chaise. Then he sat next to her. Without a word, he raised a brow then gestured toward the rest of the room in an obvious question: why am I wasting my time putting furniture all the way over here?

  He was right, of course. The arrangement was bizarre. Why perch tightly on a small chaise when you could lounge comfortably on the sizable couch. A couch that you could sit on without being forced to snuggle against another warm, welcoming body.

  But she knew what would happen if she told Knight her plan to set up Anne Escobar and Josh Wickham. He'd try to talk her out of it. He would tell her it was a bad idea. He would tell her she was meddling. So Emma did what she did best. She tilted her head, batted her eyelashes, and drew her finger along Knight's cheek. "Be a dear."

  She'd heard her mother say it to her father time and time again, and it always seemed to work. Here was no different. Knight's eyes darkened, his throat tightening as he swallowed. Then Knight hauled himself to a stand and went after the fern.

  Emma smoothed back her blond curls. She now lamented that she hadn't tied them into a bun for the day's activities. She fanned herself as she got to her feet. It was much too warm. Moving furniture was practically exercise, even if one was just doing the pointing and directing.

  She opened the picture window for air and noticed two town cars winding up the drive at a far more reasonable speed than Knight had employed. "Two cars? This is a disaster." She had explicitly asked that her couple-to-be arrive in one car so they would have to speak to each other during the drive. Anne was awkwardly shy around the male sex and would have to be trapped into interacting with Josh. Emma had no particular quarrel with this tactic, but she needed people to follow her instructions so it actually transpired.

  Knight stood by her side, having set down the fern. "What's wrong with two cars? Should there be more of them?"

  "No. Fewer."

  "Fewer? But I thought you 9-1-1'd everyone."

  "I texted everyone but not everyone could come. Ellie and Edward are visiting her new baby sister in Guatemala. Lizzie is in New York doing press to save the Academy. Dante is taking his sister to visit colleges. Fanny has track meets, of course. Tran is with his mother on tour with that band…you know the one? And Kat and Henry have auditions." She gave a helpless shrug, her palms faceup. "Only Anne and Josh were able to make it. I just wish they'd taken the same car. For the environment. It's so important to leave this world better than it was when we came into it."

  "Emma." His voice was strangled.

  "What?" She batted her lashes again. "It's all so beyond my control."

  "Hmmm. I thought there was nothing beyond your control."

  She could barely hold in her grin.

  "You're up to something. This has the distinct smell of a Greene Scheme."

  "The smell of victory, you mean?"

  "Emma, for once, can you not have a crazy agenda?"

  "I resent that. I don't have an agenda. Look at me." She threw her hands in the air. "Relaxed. Cool. Collected. Not a care in the world. Like usual. I bet you can't name more than three times when I've had an agenda."

  He counted them off on his fingers. "Breaking into the headmistress's cottage. Trying to steal the show at the Halloween ball. Handcuffing yourself to a tree. Hij
acking the school pl—"

  Emma gasped with an indignant hand at her throat. "Those don't count. Most of those were in the service of love."

  "Oh really? Love?" Knight snorted. He did not roll his eyes. No, Knight never rolled his eyes. He always pinned her with those deceivingly warm baby browns. Straight on and dead center.

  Most boys couldn't look her in the eye. She knew why. She was beautiful; looking at her made them flustered. Breathless. Out of sorts. But not Knight. No. Knight could stare into her eyes for hours with nothing more than sardonic raise of his brow.

  "What do you have against love, Knight?"

  "Nothing. But your antics had nothing to do with love, Emma. You wanted attention."

  She could just knock him on the side of the head. Didn't he know her by now? "None of those schemes were about me. You know the Halloween ball was about Ellie. So was the headmistress's cottage. If it weren't for my meddling, she wouldn't even be at the Academy anymore. Ellie and Edward wouldn't be together. And neither would Lizzie and Dante."

  "You're taking credit for Lizzie and Dante? Who else have you matched up? Kat and Henry, too?"

  "Everyone knows I'm at least partially responsible for Kat and Henry."

  "Which would be a Christmas miracle considering they hooked up during Christmas break…away from the Academy and away from you. What about Prince William and Kate?"

  She stubbornly set her jaw. "Willy and Kate are dear friends of the family."

  "Emma," he said warningly. "Don't even try."

  "Don't underestimate my skills, Knight."

  "Oh, I don't, Emma. You're the one who keeps overestimating herself."

  Emma recoiled at the sting of his statement. Fine. So Emma was her own press. She knew that. She felt she had to remind people how much she'd accomplished because otherwise they might not realize. It might go right over their heads. With her mom, for example. Sometimes her mom was so busy being a one-woman philanthropic wonder that she didn't always recognize all that Emma accomplished. Her mother loved her, of course, and always made sure she had everything she needed, but sometimes she was so busy giving Emma everything that she didn't notice when Emma fended for herself.

  What was wrong with being proud of what she'd done? What was wrong with giving herself credit where credit was due?

  Most of all, why didn't Knight understand? She bit her lip as she felt it trembling.

  "Emma?" Knight's voice dropped, and he made a motion like he was going to comfort her or put his arm around her shoulder.

  She turned swiftly to look back out the window. "They're almost here." The town cars pulled into the circular driveway and rolled to a stop. The rear door opened, and Josh Wickham popped out. His ebony locks and intense blue eyes made him an achingly beautiful figure, even from all the way inside the house.

  Her stomach roiled at the sight of him.

  This wouldn't be her first matchmaking attempt with Josh. She'd tried to match him once before—to herself. She was a little bitter that Josh hadn't fallen for her. Not that she had been particularly in love with him. It was the principle of the thing. When Emma had been with Josh, she'd felt carefree and reckless. She'd played out endless fantasies of them together. Walking the red carpet. Attending charity events. She could just imagine the kind of press she could bring to her mom's most favored causes with arm candy like him.

  But they had been just that—fantasies—without any real sense of Josh as a person. They would have made such a beautiful couple but a terrible pair. Anyhow, why worry over Josh when there were so many more interesting things to concern herself with, like Anne. Or the curtains—was that a line of dust at the hem? Oh, and now she just remembered that some of the salads she'd ordered had nuts. Did Anne eat nuts? Could she possibly be allergic? There was just so much to think about, starting first and foremost with her guests.

  And oh, Emma saw her now. There was Anne getting out of the backseat after Josh. She looked effortlessly chic in her yellow sundress with boatneck collar. Anne's thick, dark-brown hair was set with a matching yellow headband, very prep and polished. She managed to scoot out of the town car without creasing her skirt.

  Why didn't Josh turn around and offer Anne a hand? Emma pursed her lips. Josh was inherently self-absorbed. The key to setting him up with Anne was showing him that being with Anne was in his best interest. That she had as much to offer him as some starlet who could help his career.

  Granted, Anne had fallen off the pedestal lately.

  Anne Escobar had once been as blessed as Emma. She was striking, quietly mysterious, and her parents had once been rich off railroad money they'd used to start the Jane Austen Academy. Then, they'd lost it all. Their money, their homes, and the Academy—the latter sold to new owners who had made the school coed. In addition to suffering the indignity of having her school, her legacy, sold out from beneath her, Anne was now forced to attend classes with the very boy she had broken up with but still loved—Rick Wright—who had the indecency to return richer, hotter, and cooler than ever. The nerve. He was practically impossible to get over, but Emma wasn't one to shirk in the face of the impossible.

  Anne still had her looks, still had her class, and still had her friends—Emma included.

  Anne would be a catch for anyone, even Josh.

  If he couldn't see that after a few hours drive with her…

  But that begged the question: if Anne and Josh had driven up in the same town car, then who was in the one behind them? She hadn't invited anyone else. Her parents had made it clear they wouldn't be on the west coast because they had charity events to attend in New York. Who else could possibly—

  The back door of the second town car opened. A tall figure emerged. Dark hair. Lean back. Perfect military posture. The figure turned, and she recognized the green eyes that rivaled hers for mossiest eye color at the Academy.

  Rick Wright—the very reason for Anne's misery and the very last person Emma wanted to see.

  "Oh yeah," Knight said besides her. "Forgot to tell you. I told Rick about your 9-1-1 emergency text, so he came down, too. Ow, ow, ow!" Knight threw his arms up in defense as Emma punched his shoulder, no small feat given it was a foot above her head. "What gives, Emma?"

  "What is wrong with you?"

  "What's wrong is I'm getting beaten up by a girl." Knight rubbed his shoulder.

  Emma spun around and hustled out of the living room, her flip-flops slapping wildly against the tile. She twisted her long hair into a sleek updo, which she secured with the bobby pins she kept tucked in her bra. She looked over her shoulder to glare at Knight, who didn't even have the common decency to look contrite.

  Instead, he cocked his head and grinned. "I never get over how quickly you can make yourself over."

  She stopped to refresh a lily bouquet, sprucing up the petals. "I cannot be swayed by compliments. How could you invite Rick knowing full well about him and Anne?"

  "Uh…what about him and Anne?"

  Emma rolled her eyes. He must know. Everyone knew about Anne and Rick, didn't they? "What gives you the right to invite someone to my home anyway?"

  "I thought it was an emergency. Didn't you text everyone?"

  "Well…not quite everyone." Really, she felt like a broken record sometimes. She headed farther down the hall, straightening an errant black-and-white photograph of the very beach down the bluffs from the house. "Like I said before…I knew most everyone else was unavailable. Having Rick in this house will ruin everything. Poor Anne."

  "You're being melodramatic. Didn't Anne dump him anyway? Years ago? Back when dating was holding hands and sharing gum?"

  She stopped in her tracks, her flip-flops squeaking. "Lost love always feels like yesterday, Knight. Especially to us."

  His expression finally fell. "I'm sorry, Emma. But he's here now. How do you want me to fix it?"

  "Keep Rick busy—and away from Anne." She reached the front foyer and flung open the doors. She smiled as she waved at her three classmates in the driveway. H
er teeth gritted, she muttered under her breath so he wouldn't hear, "Because nothing is going to get in the way of my plans for Anne and Josh."

  Emma's heart squeezed as she watched Anne mumble hello to Rick and take a keen interest in the tips of her soft-pink ballet flats. Rick wasn't helping matters by standing so close. His arm grazed her back as he leaned over her to say something to Josh, who laughed in response. Anne managed a weak smile, too.

  Emma was sure she wasn't the only person who noticed that Rick had a habit of never looking directly at Anne. It was heartbreaking and callous. So what if Anne had broken up with him? It had been the sensible thing to do. He had been moving halfway across the country. Plus, they had been thirteen at the time or some other some such nonsense. How could he continue to punish her for it by ignoring her?

  Why were men so obtuse? So seemingly…clueless.

  Emma waved as she approached them in the driveway. "Hi, guys, hi. Yes, hello. Thank you sooo much for coming everyone." Even if you weren't invited, she thought to herself. She pecked Josh quickly on the right cheek, did the same to Rick, although she mostly caught air. Then Emma pulled Anne into a tight hug. Anne's delicate arms squeezed Emma around the neck.

  Emma whispered quickly in her ear. "I'm so sorry about Rick. I had no idea."

  "What? Rick, who…? What are you talking about?" Anne pulled away, a furrow in her brow. She glanced up at Rick then back to Emma. She rested her palms on Emma's cheeks. "We're here for you, Emma. I've been so worried. You haven't answered my texts. Is everything okay? Ellie's ready to fly back from Guatemala if you want."

  Oh crap. Yes, there was the matter of that 911 text. Who knew her friends would take it so seriously? "Everything's going to work out now that you guys are here."

  Knight reached her side and gave her a critical look. "You did make it sound like life or death."

  "I thought you were going to kill yourself getting here," Rick said. "I brought your wallet. You left it behind. I would have driven up with you, but you lost your mind when you got the text so—"