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Exhaustion and, yes, longing washed over her, but Emie didn’t want to go there. For seven long years she had been running, hiding behind the façade of glitzy party girl. Coming home was going to change that. This was her opportunity to prove to the world she hadn’t been wasting her time. She just hoped this bravado would hold until she saw him… Cut.
Her cell phone vibrated against her side before she could dive further into the panic that meeting promised. Emie looked at the screen and sighed.
“Hi, Daddy.” This was only his tenth call. The man was nervous. After all, he was getting married this weekend—for the fourth time. High-profile hardly scratched the surface of the occasion. The wedding was becoming the media event of the year, and her father was breaking under the pressure.
“Emie, have you landed yet?” Richard Sinclair-Douglas was never one to waste time on simple greetings, and he seemed pissed. Again.
She couldn’t resist teasing him. “I’m great, Dad, and how are you?” Still, sensing he needed humoring, she answered his original query. “Yes, I’m here. I’m picking up my bags now. I should be home in about an hour depending on traffic. Did you send a car?”
She barely registered his reply when a strong hand covered hers over the handle of her luggage. She glanced down and a charge of hot awareness shot through her. The thick scar winding its way from the index finger to streak a path under the palm belonged to only one man.
Shit, no! I’m not ready. Emie looked into the hard steel grey of the eyes she had never seemed to escape. Panic threatened her reason.
“You look disappointed to see me, Emie. I’m hurt.” Without asking, Cut took the phone from her.
“I’ve got her, Richard.” He ended the call with four words.
Snatching the phone back, she tried to rally her tottering control.
“What are you doing here, Cut?”
“Why, I’m here for you, princess.”
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