“What’s he like?” she asked, feeling comfortable talking with him despite the ever-present need to touch him, smell him and…she had to stop thinking things like that!
Emerson gestured to the porch, offering her the lone chair at the front of the cottage. “He eats up little stock brokers like you for breakfast,” he teased.
Rachel laughed and Emerson’s gut tightened at the soft, husky sound. She didn’t look like the kind of woman who would laugh like that, he thought, watching her green eyes brighten with her wide, breathtaking smile. She relaxed back into the surprisingly comfortable rocking chair. “The man you want to work with has no principles. He’s hard, distrusts humanity, and hasn’t had any reason to change his impression. He’s seen the worst of people because of his talents, and he’s learned to play the game well enough to be on top of the dung heap. He prefers to separate himself from that world.”
“Is that why he moved out here to Cape Elizabeth?” she asked softly, feeling sadness and compassion for the man she hadn’t yet met. “But if he hates people and the financial world so much, why does he continue to invest?”
Emerson shrugged. He couldn’t really explain why he hadn’t simply retired from the investing world completely. He had enough money stored up for several lifetimes but there was just something about investing, in drawing conclusions about where a company or even a country or commodity was going to go. It was like a puzzle, a mystery that was an almost compulsive, driving need within him. “I can’t really answer that question,” he told her honestly.
“What’s his secret?” she asked slyly with a huge grin.
Emerson looked at her and wanted to take her into his arms and make love to her right here in the sunshine. He wanted to put that smile on her face because of a joke or because he made her feel good, not because he had some secret investing strategy he could relay to her. There wasn’t really any sort of trick to what he did anyway. He just read the news and saw the bigger picture.
“Perhaps his secret is here, in the water and the sunshine.”
That definitely wasn’t the answer she was looking for. She frowned and shook her head, trying to understand but coming up empty. “I don’t get it.”
He smiled gently and took a long sip of his lemonade. “I didn’t think you would,” he said with resignation. “The man you’re looking for is the kind of guy who relaxes as often as he works. He doesn’t try to be the first to discover the next big thing, he looks at life, enjoys what comes his way and shrugs off the opportunities that he misses. There’s a lot out there to do. It would be difficult to try and have it all.”
“I disagree,” she replied primly. “And if anyone has it all, it would be Emerson Watson. The man has more money than god and all the power behind that kind of wealth.” She might be shallow to want that kind of power, but she didn’t care. She would never go back. She’d lived the life of a pauper and it wasn’t kind or gentle. It was having people take advantage of you because you didn’t have the power to force them to be fair and courteous. It was going without meals and walking long distances when the car broke down again. It was missing parties with friends because she either couldn’t get a ride to the party, or didn’t have anything appropriate to wear and was too insecure to go in what she had, knowing that the other guests would laugh at her outfit. Poverty was painful, not empowering.
Emerson saw the emotions flit over her lovely, delicate features and something struck him hard. She wasn’t just a flighty, greedy investor. There was much more to this woman. She had depth of character that was usually missing in the people who sought out his financial advice. “Is that what you want?” he asked softly. “Power and money?”
She thought about her two best friends she’d known from elementary school all the way through college, Nikki and Brianna, both of whom had struggled just as hard as she had over the years. Brianna was a reporter who loved reporting on the beauty in the world, even if it was a garden party or the latest society wedding. And Nikki was a sweet, kind, gentle, dynamo school teacher who loved her job but not all the abuse she had to take from the parents who liked to push her around. She thought of her parents who had lost their house because of a corrupt mortgage company. The error had been rectified, but not before they’d been kicked out of their house.
She straightened her shoulders and stiffened her spine, refusing to go back to her old life. “Yes. I want power and money.” She didn’t go into the reasons now, but her chin jutted out defensively. “I know some people think that desire is shallow, but I don’t care.”
“Do I look like I have a lot of money?” he teased.
Rachel’s eyes focused on the man, coming back to the present. She shrugged one shoulder and took another sip of lemonade. “Anyone can have hidden wealth. I try hard not to judge someone by the way they dress or what they do.”
He was impressed. In his experience, most people in the investing community dismissed laborers as unimportant. People that provided a service would be beneath their acknowledgement.
Feeling awkward all of a sudden, Rachel stood up. “I’d better let you get back to your work,” she said, feeling uncomfortable, especially when he stood up as well. He was closer than she’d thought and she looked up at him nervously.
“I’ll walk you to your car,” he said and put a hand to the small of her back.
“No need,” she said, hating the tremor in her voice. She needed to get away from this man. She felt something for him, something strange that she didn’t completely understand nor would she allow this…vulnerability. And whatever it was that pulled her towards him, she didn’t have time for it. She was here on a mission. Discovering fascinating, muscle-covered gorgeous men was not on the agenda for the weekend.
“What’s the rush?” he asked when she started walking quickly back to her car.
“I’m just…”
Thankfully, her car was right around the next bush and she breathed a sigh of relief. “Here it is,” she said and turned around to face him, her car keys in front of her like a shield. “Thank you for the water. And the lemonade,” she said, thinking of his conversation. It occurred to her that she should probably thank him for the spectacular view of his chest as well but suppressed that thought as possibly coming out wrong. She wasn’t exactly sure how to thank a man for being buff anyway.