bookstore angle doesn’t help and I probably shouldn't be sleeping with him because of that, but I don't need to be lectured by you."
Maybe it was the lack of sleep and the hangover, but she'd had enough. She knew what she was getting herself into with Gina, and she also knew that Gina would climb off her high horse and apologize by tomorrow, but right now, Emmy gathered her purse and coat and stood up.
"You know what, Gi, I'm tired, I haven't had enough sleep and I don't want to get into a fight with you. So let's do this another time, when I'm less wired, and you're maybe more tolerant. Thanks for the beer."
She hadn't often seen her best friend speechless, but Gina just looked stunned as Emmy walked out. If she was honest, it galled her that, of all things, they should be arguing over a guy, but Gina had had it coming for a while, and honestly, Emmy had given her enough free passes.
On the subway ride home, Eric texted her again:
Adventurous? Miss Flanagan, I believe you're taunting me.
Would that be such a bad thing? she sent back
Not if you're prepared to prove it...
She didn't reply immediately — she'd reached her stop, and she drew the line at texting as she walked home at night — so he called her just as she reached her doorstep.
"I was just checking that I hadn't scared you off," he said, the sound of his voice triggering all sorts of pleasant memories, and making her blush. "I promise I won't be serving fried locusts and chicken feet."
"That's a relief. So have you finally finished dealing with clients?"
"I'm heading home as we speak."
"Speaking of which, where is home? I've accepted the invite but you haven't sent me your address yet."
He chuckled down the phone.
"At the moment, home is the penthouse in the same building as my office. Which means my commute involves stepping in the elevator and pressing a button."
"Wow — really?"
It sounded both impressive and slightly impersonal — suddenly the whole house buying thing made sense. It looked like Eric wanted to sink some roots into New York City. She wondered what his apartment was like — some sort of snazzy bachelor pad, she bet, all designer furniture, modern art and views over the city.
"Yes. I'll text you the details. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow night," he said, his voice deepening as it did whenever he was flirting with her, and Emmy allowed herself a shudder of pleased anticipation.
The low-level excitement didn't abate once she’d made it into her apartment, and Emmy was already thinking about what she could wear tomorrow (starting with the underwear, because she apparently had a one-track mind these days) when the phone rang, breaking her out of her mild erotic trance.
That dissipated rapidly when the caller turned out to be her mom, to whom she hadn't said a word about Eric. For a brief instant, Emmy panicked, thinking that someone had sent her parents a link to the red carpet shots at the Met, but it was a false alarm, and they wound up discussing the holidays. This year's Thanksgiving was a bust, since her parents were going to England to visit her younger sister who was doing post-grad studies at Cambridge University, but Christmas planning had begun in earnest, and besides, as Mom gently reminded her, Emmy hadn't called home for over a week.
"So what are you planning for Thanksgiving? Please tell me you're not on your own!"
"I'm probably spending it with Gina and her family," Emmy said, except that after tonight she wasn't at all sure she was welcome at her best friend's home. "I have options, Mom, don't worry."
Inevitably, she went to bed later wondering whether Eric went home for Thanksgiving, or whether he even observed a holiday celebrating the family, when his was so obviously broken. Try as she might, she couldn't imagine him sitting at a table with the Senator wielding the carving knife.
Chapter Eight
It turned out Emmy had actually underestimated Eric when she arrived at his office building on Friday. In the lobby of the glass-walled building, while waiting for the elevator, she read the list of occupants and there were at least five companies with Oswell in their names, including the flagship Oswell Properties on the top four stories. All in all it looked like anything above the 27th floor belonged to him.
That, somehow, did more to bring home the reality of his financial situation than anything