Nodding, Brant said, “Yeah, the sun usually works miracles for a headache; that is the first thing I would have done.”
“My headache was better after taking some Tylenol. I was still having the chills, though, so I thought the sun would warm me up.”
Brant had to give her credit for thinking fast on her feet, but he still moved in for the kill. He took a leisurely look down her barely covered body, smirking as he said, “Your case of the chills must be a lot better since you are wearing next to nothing. I know anytime I’m sick, I come straight to the beach practically naked and bake in the sun for hours. Ahhh, does a body good, right?”
She gave him a dirty look before flopping down on the towel in front of her. When she started rubbing her eyes like she was crying, he threw back his head and laughed. He might have been taken in again had it not been for that look she’d given him before turning on the waterworks.
She looked up at him, dropping all pretenses of sobbing, and deadpanned, “You’re a total asshole.”
If anything, that just made him laugh harder. He plopped down onto the sand beside her and nudged her shoulder. “That was some performance today. I admit, I fell for it hook, line and sinker.”
Emma snickered beside him. “That was pretty priceless. The great and powerful Brant Stone, in the hallway pleading with his lowly assistant to come out of the bathroom. You almost sounded human.”
“You stayed in there forever; what were you doing? Updating your Facebook status?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I’d never give you airtime on my social media. I don’t want any of my friends to know who I work for . . . meaning you. My high school reunion is coming up and I don’t need that kind of embarrassment. If you must know, I read Star magazine from cover to cover and slept for the last ten minutes. I would have stayed longer but someone on that floor has a bladder the size of a pea. I guess it was asking too much that she go to another floor. There’s no way I would have been that persistent about trying to get into a bathroom someone had been in for half an hour.”
Beside her, Brant chuckled in agreement. “So do you live around here? You must if you’re using the beach in this area.”
Emma ignored his question, instead asking, “What are you doing here? Why in the world would you be walking on the beach in your suit? That seems uptight even for you.”
Brant pointed to his house. “Unfortunately for you, I live over there. It looks like fate brought you to my stretch of beach.”
Emma snorted. “Fate, huh? I could think of a few words to describe it, but that isn’t one of them.” Then she seemed to notice that he looked completely wiped out. “Bad day at the office, Mr. Stone?”
His easy smile turned to a scowl. “You have no idea. It started off badly when my assistant played me and then went to hell in a handbasket when said assistant went home because she was . . . sick. Everyone in the world needed something immediately today, and I couldn’t find anything in her complicated filing system.”
“Good grief, Brant, what is so hard about organizing by colors? Didn’t you learn your primary colors in school? You surely went somewhere like Yale or Harvard for kindergarten, so you must be a fairly intelligent man. Think outside the box for once.”
“Think outside the box, huh? I’ve seen you struggling to find files as well. We both know you only do it to piss me off.”
Emma gave him her best innocent look. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” She rolled over on her stomach and shut her eyes. Brant knew she was just trying to ignore him but damn, did she have any idea what seeing those firm butt cheeks peeking out of her black swimsuit was doing to him? He hated like hell that she turned him on more during an argument at the office than most women did in bed.