The Billionaire's Masquerade Page 0,58
Jeep, finding the gravel drive that would lead back to the cottage.
She just continued walking, ignoring him completely. There was no way she was going into that house with him, she told herself. She’d loved their cottage, had spent some great moments in it and she wasn’t going to sleep with him tonight.
“Rachel, there’s no heat in the cottage,” he told her, almost laughing at how stubborn she was being. But he understood her point. She was mad. She probably perceived this as more subterfuge and she might even think he was trying to control her. That last point might be accurate, but he still wasn’t going to let her sleep in the cottage. He’d had her under his roof for the past several weeks. He’d grown used to knowing she was close by.
Of course, if she were in his bed, that would be even better. He smiled in anticipation. He also knew that Molly had made her famous chili and corn bread for dinner. He’d texted her last night letting her know that he was bringing Rachel back and this was Molly’s attempt to help him win her over. Her chili really was that good.
“Will you please come inside and have some dinner? I know Molly made something special for our return.”
Rachel bristled with that statement. “You mean she made something special for your return. It had nothing to do with me.”
He was already shaking his head by the time she was halfway through with that comment. “Not true. Molly really likes you. In fact, at the risk of making things worse, she’s playing cupid tonight.”
That really caused her to be concerned. “What? Some sort of candlelight dinner? That’s not going to work on me. I’m still really hurt and angry by what you did.”
He smothered a chuckle at the idea of Molly making a candlelight meal. “No candles, no romantic music. She made chili,” he stated.
Rachel blinked and stopped, turning back to look up at him as if he’d grown a second head. “Chili?”
Emerson laughed out loud at her expression, walking to stand in front of her again, unable to contain his amusement. He couldn’t help it, she looked too cute. “Yes, chili. It’s Molly’s famous chili and it takes her all day to make. It’s pretty extraordinary and has won several awards although I suspect she never really makes it the same way every time. I’ve watched her make it. She just throws things in, tastes a bit, then throws something else in.”
Rachel loved the image of the gruff Molly trying to play cupid by making a cold weather, spicy meal. “I really don’t want to have dinner with you.”
He sighed and gently took hold of her hands. “Rachel, we’ve been eating almost every meal together for the past month. I don’t think I’ll be able to eat anything if you’re not sitting across from me arguing about something.”
“That’s your problem,” she declared, wanting to pull back, but her feet weren’t obeying her commands to run. “You kept finding problems with all of the research I’d done.”
“That was all part of my training. I promise, I didn’t treat you any differently than I did my other interns. All of whom you’ve met, by the way.”
“I have?” she asked, stumped by that statement. “Why haven’t they gone off and started their own companies?”
There was silence for a long moment while he looked down into her green eyes. “Is that what you were planning to do?” he asked carefully.
She couldn’t lie to him. There had been too many misunderstandings between them. “Yes. That was my original goal. I wanted complete control of my fate. The idea of listening to someone else tell me what to do all the time wasn’t in my long term plans.”
He released one of her hands, but retained the other one and tucked it on his arm, walking forward towards the house. “So if I were to help you start your own business now, with the information that you currently have, what kind of business would that be?”
Okay, that question came out of left field. She was only vaguely aware of walking into the brightly lit house with all of the windows looking out onto the ocean. The stars were starting to come out and twinkle in the distance and a lighthouse flashed its light rhythmically.
“I don’t know.”
He’d gotten her up the stone stairway to the front door, pulling her inside. “Why not? Isn’t there something you’ve always wanted to do?”
The thought of refinishing antiques