Emily: Sex and Sensibility Read Online Free PDF Page A

pluck a name from a hat and hope the winner knew how to do the hundred things it took to keep him from being buried alive in calls, faxes, e-mails, requests and complaints? Was he supposed to hope an untried assistant would be able to sense who to seat beside whom at the sort of dinner he might have to host? What were the odds of finding someone who could get through a casual meeting with clients when the lingua franca was not necessarily English?
    Then he’d topped things off by attending a charity dinner.
    He hated charity dinners. He hated events at which the rich and powerful spent their time showing each other just how rich and powerful they were where raffles for expensive toys could set a man back a small fortune just to keep a woman from whining.
    Jessalyn, his mistress, had whined anyway.
    His soon-not-to-be mistress. It was a thought he turned to for consolation.
    “I s-s-suppose it’s pos-pos-possible your intentions are honorable.”
    Marco blinked and focused his gaze on his mission of mercy. His intentions with regard to women had not been honorable since he’d turned seventeen, but he knew what she meant and he wasn’t about to make things worse with some small, crude joke that she would surely misunderstand.
    Time to try a different approach.
    “Good. I am pleased that you understand.”
    “B-but it d-d-doesn’t matter. I’m f-f-fine. Th-th-thank you for stopping but—”
    “If you get into my vehicle, we will drive you to your destination.”
    A flash of panic swept across her face. Brilliant. Walk into my parlor, said the spider to the fly.
    This was ridiculous. The word wet no longer described her. Or him, for that matter, he thought grimly. Rain was dripping from his hair into his eyes. His jacket was taking a soggy beating though it would stand up to the elements far better than whatever she was wearing.
    A dress. Silk, most probably.
    Silk, it seemed, did not do well in the rain.
    It clung to her body, outlining gently curved hips, a slender waist and small, high breasts. Now that he thought about it, he could even see the thrust of her nipples.
    They seemed to be very nice nipples, of a size that would welcome a lover’s mouth.
    “I know wh-what you’re thi-thin-thinking.”
    Heat rushed into his face. “I beg your pardon?”
    “You th-think I’m crazy.”
    One of them was. And yes, it was probably she. In fact, why not? Like most big cities, New York had more than its fair share of the walking wounded.
    “Not at all,” he said carefully, “but if there is a physician you would like me to contact—”
    “I’m not cr-crazy. I just d-d-don’t want your heh-heh-heh—”
    Jessalyn’s angry voice cut through the woman’s stammer.
    “Jesus H. Christ, Marco,” she snarled, “she sounds like Elmer Fudd! Would you give it up?”
    The woman’s gaze swept past him to the open car door. He cursed under his breath but decided he might be able to use Jessalyn’s cold interference to his advantage. He had to do something. That stutter was not a good sign. Unless it was natural, it was an indication of just how cold she really was.
    “My date,” he said calmly. “Surely that should make you feel safe.”
    The woman made a chattering sound. A laugh? Well, he couldn’t blame her. In today’s world, the presence of another woman wasn’t a guarantee of anything.
    Still, he had to admit that, for once, Jessalyn had said something intelligent. It was ridiculous to stand in a downpour, trying to rescue a woman who didn’t want rescuing.
    Va bene. He was out of ideas and out of patience. One last attempt. After that, she was on her own.
    “I am,” he said, with what he hoped was a disarming smile, “harmless.”
    She raised her hand and pushed her hair away from her face, giving him a first clear view of her features.
    Nice.
    Delicately arched brows. Aristocratic nose. Full mouth. Thickly lashed eyes, light in color. Blue? Green? It was impossible to tell, and what did it