Chapter 19

Emma produced a stiff smile and automatically asked herself whether anyone could ever get used to the fact that any situation could end up in a photograph. If she had her way, she wouldn't want to get used to it. The past three months had been more than enough for lifetime. It was unnatural, and she resolved never to visit the zoo with a camera again. Surely the animals didn't like it any better than she did.

"I swear it's not going to be a big deal." Luke sighed and pulled Emma along with him, heading for the coat room and away from the entrance area, where paparazzi were still allowed to try their luck.

"It's a team thing. Coach Thompson thinks it will make the players at more tightly-knit unit if they get to know each other and their families better."

Emma let him help take off her coat, and moved her jaw from side to side to relieve the tension.

"Your coach reads too many psychological magazines. It's not that I don't like your fellow players – it's simply a little too much testosterone for one evening. It doesn't help that Ray's wife, the girlfriend of the short guy who looks like he's from Sweden, and I will be the only female people in there."

"Dexter's sister Chloe is supposed to come as well."

"Oh, great, that changes everything then."

Emma looked around the room, feeling uncomfortable and tugging at the hem of her t-shirt. They were in a sports bar – where else would they go – which had a jukebox, a pool table, and table soccer. And a lot of men, who were laughing loudly, slapping each other's backs, and engaging in other masculine antics. Luke's coach might have said that they were supposed to meet each other's families, but Emma didn't see anyone she would have associated with the term ‘family.' All she saw were the players, Sam Parker the PR man, the stand-by players (who were also called pinch-hitters, as she had learned), and the mascot – plus the women Emma had already listed.

"Yes, I know, and I'm sorry," Luke murmured, and he actually looked believably contrite. "I'm buying you a beer to make up for it."

Emma looked around the room, studying each of the guys present, who were throwing her covert, curious looks. She didn't expect the situation to improve much, even with lots of alcohol. "You're not getting out of this with just one beer, Carter," she murmured. "You know, I have a job as well, maybe I should focus a little more on that again for a change."

She took a small step backwards, but Luke put an assertive hand on the back of her neck. "Not today, sweet pea."

"Mhm," she grumbled, but stayed by his side obediently as he made his salutary round. He finally left her with Dexter, a tall brunette, Ray, and his wife, while he went to the bar to get her the promised beer.

"Dex, I told you that I didn't want to tag along! You lured me here under false pretenses!" the woman next to Dexter hissed. That had to be his sister. They shared the same intense green eyes.

"I didn't promise you anything!"

"Of course you did: You told me you were going to stop bugging me if I came to a party with you, instead of drinking in a bar on my own. But honestly, all you've done so far is bugging me!"

Dexter sighed deeply and put a hand over his eyes. "I don't like the guys you hang out with! I thought that here–"

"You never like anyone I hang out with!" she snorted, oblivious of or indifferent to the fact that everyone in their small circle was staring at her by now. "If it was legal, you'd chain me to the wall in your basement! And put me in a chastity belt."

Dexter groaned softly. "Chloe, fact is that you're still living with me at the moment, and since–"

"Yeah, and why am I living with you? Because you won't let me strike out on my own!" she said, raising her voice even more.

"Because you don't have any money."

"Because you don't want me to find a job!"

"You're not going to work at Hooters!"

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Oh please, Dex. What century are you living in? I'm twenty-four years old, and I can show my tits to whoever I want! And you know what? I think that's what I'll do right now! You'll excuse me." She briefly smiled at everyone and was about to head out, when Dex pulled her back once again.

"Chloe, if you go out and party with those idiots again tonight …"

"Then what? Are you going to tell Mom?" she asked in an embittered voice, before she jerked herself free and made a beeline for the exit.

Awkward silence descended over the small group, and Emma gave Dex an apologetic look.

"She seems … nice," she tried to lighten the mood.

Dex snorted and shook his head. "If she wasn't twenty-four, I'd say she's going through puberty."

"Don't take it so hard," Ray's wife said and patted his arm. "She's going to come around eventually."

"Really?" Dexter didn't sound convinced. "She hasn't been coming around for a whole year now."

"She needs to find something to give her life direction. Then everything else will fall into place," the woman with the dark red, shoulder-length hair said with conviction, before turning to Emma and holding out her hand.

"Hello," she said warmly, and the laugh lines came out around her eyes. "My name's Haven, and I'm glad you're here to shift the balance. There are too many Y chromosomes in this room. And as you just witnessed, you can't rely on Chloe!" Then she looked up at her husband and shook her head in a chiding manner. "I've suggested it a few times already, but nobody wants to invite the cheerleaders to join us …"

Ray scratched his lower back and looked uncomfortable.

"Honey," he rumbled in his deep voice, which never failed to send a shiver down Emma's spine, "I told you before and I'll tell you again: Our coach doesn't trust the team with the cheerleaders. Three of them canceled their contracts, after they'd had affairs with a team member. There is no unlimited supply of good dancers in this world."

Haven clicked her tongue in disapproval and turned to Dexter. "Do you believe that you guys are nothing but a pack of mangy dogs, who can't behave themselves and who can't help but touch and grope anything that's not quick enough to get away?"

Emma looked up at the muscleman and got the feeling that he was about to have a fit of laughter – in any case he didn't look as if he could answer any time soon, so Emma stepped in quickly.

"I don't believe that," she said gravely and shook her head. "I can't speak for all of them …" She cocked her head. "And I'm not sure I can even speak for Luke, but Dexter here is a decent guy." She put a hand on his arm. "He practically saved me at the very first event I organized when I came to the States."

Haven gave Dexter an inquisitive look, while he regained his composure and gave Emma a grateful wink. "Is that so? What did he do to save you?"

Emma laughed and grinned at the man next to her. "He filled me in on who's famous and who isn't."

***

"Hey, Lucky, I see you brought your conscience again. That woman is turning you into a puppy, dude. I'm surprised she even allows you to drink beer …"

Two glasses of beer in his hands, Luke turned from the bar to face Jake, whose grin was just as irritating as his constant taunts.

"Hi, Jake. Jealous because you can't get any?"

The man guffawed – Luke disliked the fact that it was a rather convincing guffaw – and signaled to the barkeeper that he wanted a beer as well.

"Sure. Since I have such problems picking up women," he said boastfully, and even though Luke didn't like his attitude, he had to admit that he was right. Jake had about as much of a problem picking up a woman as a pig finding a truffle.

"I'd have guessed that you were the jealous one, since you can only do it with one woman anymore."

Luke smiled despite himself, because he automatically thought of the things he'd done with that one woman only yesterday.

No, he had no problem whatsoever with the fact that he was sleeping with this particular woman exclusively. It had turned out she was unexpectedly creative. "Oh, I get by."

The younger baseball player gave him a skeptical look. "Oh God, you're really serious!"

"I have someone who lies naked in my bed and who fixes me a sandwich. Of course I'm serious."

Jake seemed dissatisfied with his answer, as if he'd hoped that Luke would sink to his knees and beg him to share one of his girls with him.

"Fine." He let his gaze travel the room, and the right corner of his mouth twitched. "Well, she seems to feel right at home in this company, so I guess it's all good." Jake nodded in the direction of a small cluster of people, and Luke's gaze followed his with a frown.

Emma had thrown her head back and was laughing – while her hand rested on Dexter's bicep. It was not an intimate gesture, and yet something clawed at Luke's guts, something that demanded hotly that he tear Emma's hand away from Dexter's arm. Something that would have enjoyed if the arm would be torn from its socket in the process.

Luke's jaw tensed; and he tried to redirect his thoughts into more rational waters again. Dexter was one of his best friends. On the other hand, he was one of the few people who knew that he and Emma were only a mock couple. Why shouldn't he be interested in her?

Dexter was a good guy – a guy who had better take his damned, dirty paw off Emma's back!

Luke's hands gripped the cold glass hard as he nodded at Jake. "Yeah, she adapts rather easily," he said in a hoarse voice.

"Did you say she was easy?"

"Shut up, Jake."

Luke turned his back on him and returned to the small group of people in the corner. Dexter and Emma were no longer touching, but Luke still went to stand between the two, instead of between Emma and Ray's wife. Though there was a lot more space on the other side.

"… seriously?" Emma was currently laughing in Haven's direction, when he held out the beer to her. "And you didn't mind such a freakishly public proposal?"

She furrowed her brow and then met Luke's eyes, taking the glass and nodding at it, while her lips formed a ‘thank you.'

One look at her mouth made Luke wish he could simply say that coming here tonight had been a stupid idea, and they should return home.

"No, it was really sweet," Ray's wife replied and leaned against her husband. "The entire stadium was cheering. Makes you feel very important all of a sudden."

"Oh, I believe that." Emma took a sip from her beer and made a face.

Dexter laughed out loud. "If you start with your German beer again …" he said in mock menace and wagged his index finger. Emma stuck out her tongue at him, her eyes flashing with glee. Luke had a mind to stomp on his friend's foot, but then Emma put an arm around him and he refrained. "Tell him, Luke. American beer is just water with artificial flavoring."

Luke nodded and switched the beer from one hand to the other, so he could put an arm around her, too.

"Listen to my girl, Dexter. This beer is bullshit." He raised the glass to toast him, before taking a sip. "But not drinking any is bullshit, too."

Emma grinned and briefly leaned her forehead against his shoulder. The claws in his guts eased their grip, and were replaced by something warm and cuddly.

"Here's to that!" she said appreciatively and took another sip, only to shudder and make a face again. "No, it's really not worth it."

Haven giggled and pulled away from her husband. "Okay, I think this calls for a glass of sparkling wine or champagne then. How about we let the boys play pool, while we go look for the third female in here, so we can all drink something nicer?"

Emma nodded and handed Luke her glass with a grin. "More for you. I'll see you in a bit."

She wanted to turn away, but he grabbed her hand again. "Wait, can you promise me something, please?"

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "What is it?"

"Could you please beat Jake at table soccer?"

Luke heard Ray chuckle behind him. "I'd watch that any day."

Emma smirked, and her thumb drew small figure-eighths into his palm. "As good as done, Mr. Wichtig."

***

As it turned out, the third female was more than a little relieved when the women pressed a glass of sparkling wine into her hand and spirited her away to the bar with them. She'd been stuck in a discussion that revolved around whether or not some player – whose name Emma could neither pronounce nor remember – should be gotten into the Major League. She had looked exactly the way Emma felt every time Luke told her about a game. Her name was Eve, and she was a short redhead, who'd have been burned at the stake for that in the Middle Ages.

For Emma, both women came as a welcome surprise, for they seemed perfectly normal.

Haven owned an organic frozen yogurt store, but was busy mostly with her and Ray's children, and Eve was a paralegal. She had met Sven – aha, so he was probably really a Swede – when he had gone to court for kicking and damaging a public garbage can, and subsequent ‘defamation of a civil servant on duty.'

"He pledged innocent," Eve guffawed into her glass. "When there was video evidence."

"To baseball players and their ego," Haven chirped and raised her glass. The other women followed suit and drank.

"Speaking of egos …" She gave Emma an appreciative nod. "Congratulations on managing to shrink Luke's to almost normal, healthy size!"

Emma rolled her eyes. "Come on, he wasn't that bad."

Eve giggled. "Yes, he was. Didn't he tell you that he was responsible for sending back a whole batch of jerseys, because the blue of the fabric didn't match that of his eyes?"

Emma's jaw dropped. "Wow. That is a made-up rumor, right?"

Haven shook her head. "No, no. I heard the same thing. Supposedly he once ran off with Hugh Hefner's girlfriend, too, which led to him being banned from Playboy Mansion."

Emma blinked. There were obviously still a few things she had no idea of. "That sounds crazy."

"This whole thing is crazy," Eve agreed. "No offense, but I've known the guys for a while now, and if I had been asked to place a bet on the one who settles down next, it certainly wouldn't have been Luke."

And she would probably still win that bet. Emma wouldn't out her money on him either – strangely enough, her heart sank at that thought.

"He hasn't changed that much," Emma protested and stared into her glass. Or had he? Or was that merely part of the show, and as soon as Emma had ‘dumped' him, would he revert back to his old, philandering habits?

"No need for false modesty here," Haven chided. "He was always a great guy, funny, with a big heart – not to mention really hot – but he used to have his own point of view about the priorities in his life."

A lump was beginning to form in Emma's throat. She didn't like the thought that these women were congratulating her, praising her, and Emma was serving them nothing but blatant lies in return.

"Come on, his priorities haven't really changed. Baseball is still his number one priority. If I asked him never to hit another ball again, I'd be out the door more quickly than a marten under the hood of my car in winter."

The women wagged their heads dubiously, and Emma was glad the jukebox started to blare at that moment, so none of them could reply to that. She shouldn't get too used to the idea that she had taken priority in Luke's life. That was simply not true. The priority that she was wrapped up in was his image in the papers. She was merely the token that had helped shape this image. Heat started to creep into her face, and she slid off the bar stool.

"Come on, ladies, I promised Luke I would destroy Jake at table soccer."

"Ooh yes!" Eve squealed. "Another terrible egomaniac."

"Well, he'll soon be an egomaniac that cries like a girl," Emma said cheerfully.

Jake did not cry; he was too proud for that. His nostrils flared for a tense moment, but he didn't start yelling or screaming, much to his credit. He merely snorted and swore a little, before shaking Emma's hand like a true sportsman. She almost felt a little sorry for him, after the entire team had watched him lose against a girl. On the other hand, Jake was just another arrogant idiot.

So pity and smugness were balanced in her mind.

"Someone should give you a medal," a voice suddenly murmured close to her ear, before Luke breathed a kiss on that sensitive spot at the side of her neck.

Emma closed her eyes briefly, before interlacing her fingers with his, which were resting on her hip.

"I'd be satisfied with a badge that says ‘Destroyer of Men.' No, wait, I'd like to have a prize cup, and you could fill it with candy,"

He chuckled, and she felt the goose bumps erupt on her skin. She hadn't realized how much she had gotten used to that – his laughter and her visceral reaction to it. It would be so easy to imagine he would elicit that reaction every single day. To imagine she wouldn't be seeing the last of him in less than three months, before getting on a plane, flying back to Cologne, and hopefully starting her own company.

She let go of his hands and quickly squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, as if to remind herself that this was not reality.

"Luke, can I talk to you for a second? It won't take long."

A tall man with a mustache had materialized next to them, and Emma remembered vaguely that he was somehow connected to the coach. Or was he the coach himself? She really needed to pay a little more attention and memorize faces.

Luke threw her a glance and raised his eyebrows. "Is that okay?"

Emma nodded quickly and smiled. "Of course. I wanted to see what other songs the jukebox has in store anyway."

Luke gave her a strange look, but then turned away, while Emma sauntered over to the jukebox with a sigh, and squinted into the top glass case. The selection leaned heavily towards Elvis and Dusty Springfield.

"Seen anything you like so much that you can't keep your legs still?"

Emma looked up and found Dexter smiling down at her. He exuded so much warmth and serenity that she automatically smiled back at him. "I'm not a great dancer. I didn't even cut a good figure in the Hokey Pokey – even though they tell you what to do."

The tall man laughed. "I don't believe you. I bet you're a wonderful dancer."

She guffawed. "More like awful, not wonderful."

Dexter put a coin into the slot and pushed the button for Dusty Springfield's "Son of a Preacherman." Then he held out is hand. "Prove it."

She laughed and stared at his fingers. "What? That I'm a terrible dancer?"

For a second she debated if she shouldn't simply slap his hand away and shake her head, but then she decided against that. She liked dancing. Just because she wasn't good at it, didn't mean she couldn't enjoy herself. She had already defeated a grown man at table tennis tonight – what could destroy her reputation now?

When the song started playing, she put her hand in his and gave him a wide grin. "Okay, but don't complain afterward that I didn't warn you!"

"I'll handle it like a man."

"We'll see about that."

They stepped on the dance floor, which was virtually empty. Apart from an older couple and Sven and Eve, nobody had ventured there yet.

"I'm leading, don't worry," Dexter grinned as he looked into Emma's eyes.

"Then let's do this."

He didn't need more encouragement, and before she knew what had hit her, she was twirled around in a rapid pirouette, pulled back towards her partner, and pushed outward again.

It was worse than a carnival ride. At the fair at least you knew what you were in for. You always saw the next turn coming – but not so with Dexter. Apparently he had a lot of fun all but lifting Emma off her feet, and precisely when she wasn't expecting it.

"Oh God," she panted, hoping that she wasn't sweating already. "You know what you're doing."

"Of course I do. A real man has to know how to dance."

"James Bond maybe. The guy from Footloose. But a baseball player?" She twirled into his open arm, then back out again, laughing with the speed and velocity of it. Even though she felt a little dizzy, it was fun.

"Baseball players are real men."

"And sometimes real men are a little too much for me."

Dexter took her other hand in his as well now, and gave her a thoughtful look. "You're not really as tough as you like to appear, are you?" he finally stated, and his eyes narrowed just a fraction of an inch.

She blushed.

"No I guess not," she said under her breath and swayed with him to the rhythm. "But don't tell anyone, okay?"

He laughed, let go of one hand, and made her pivot slowly like a ballerina.

"Don't worry, it's just that …"

He was suddenly wearing this strange expression again, as if he had no idea what to do with his current train of thoughts.

She paused in mid step and let her arms sink. "What is it?"

He cleared his throat, forced her to finish the pivot, and then placed a hand on her upper back. "Well, I know it's not something you want to hear, and it certainly isn't my job to tell you this, but … don't fall in love with Luke, you hear me?"

Emma struggled to keep her jaw from dropping. Instead she blinked a few times, and tried to ignore the fact that her brain was going into overdrive.

"What? I don't quite understand …"

Dexter fixed a spot above her shoulder and lowered his voice even further. "I know that you're only playing the couple for the sake of the press. Luke told me."

Luke had confided in Dexter? She was admittedly relieved by the thought that Dexter knew the truth, but that didn't make his earlier comments any less strange.

"Okay, but–"

Dexter interrupted her by clearing his throat again. "Emma, you simply deserve something real and true. I simply don't want you to …"

His gaze focused back on her face. "Just don't fall in love with him."

She swallowed and looked up at him. "Why do you say that?"

"Because I like you, and I know him very well, and I see that you look at him as if your heart was made of chocolate."

Her stomach clenched uncomfortably, and she fixed her gaze on her own feet, which seemed to be dancing to a completely different song.

"I'm not going to fall in love with him," she assured him calmly.

"But you're sleeping with him."

Now her jaw dropped for real. "How …?"

"A man can see that. It's obvious in the way you guys touch each other."

She pressed her lips together and raised her eyebrows. "Alright. And what does that have to do with falling … with what you said before?"

He raised his eyebrows, too, mirroring her expression, before the corners of his mouth started to twitch. "Everything, my dear Emma. Most women simply–"

"But I'm not like most women," she cut him off sharply. "I'm perfectly capable of separating feelings and physical intimacy. And what's more, I'll be back in Germany soon anyway. It wouldn't make sense."

His gaze softened. "Since when do feelings have to make sense?"

Luke kept telling himself that violence wasn't a viable solution. Least of all a solution for something that shouldn't actually be a problem.

Emma was free to dance with whomever she wanted. Free to talk, free to flirt …

Except that it was a problem.

It was his problem. He had a hard time refraining from storming onto the dance floor and planting a punch on Dexter's chin. God, what was wrong with him? Emma was not his property, he wasn't even her boyfriend; all he did was sleep with her. And yet he was so jealous it felt like a punch in the gut.

Jealousy.

It was ridiculous that he should think about that word at all, let alone feel the emotion himself.

Something flashed brightly before his eyes, and for a moment he was confused, searching for the source of the sudden brightness, only to feel his jealousy drown in the stronger emotion of cold anger.

A camera!

A man in a sand-colored coat was standing by the coat room, his SLR camera plainly visible now, and the lens still directed at Dexter and Emma, who had jerked apart when the flash went off.

The word paparazzo was practically stamped on his forehead. Luke moved faster than he could think, but before he had even reached the counter, the photographer had noticed him and was hastily leaving the bar. Furious, Luke pressed his lips together and quickened his own steps. Why the hell couldn't the damn press leave him alone?

He was half out the door, when a small hand grabbed his arm and pulled him back inside. "Leave him be. That's not worth it."

Emma looked up at him with an earnest expression. A struggle ensued in his head: Should he kiss her or scream at her? "Let him have his stupid photo and make some money. What do we care?"

He tore his arm away and narrowed his eyes. "It's not just some stupid photo!" he growled. "It's a photo of you hanging in Dexter's arms and making eyes at him!"

She took a small step backwards and blinked. She looked like a damned fawn!

"Excuse me?"

He turned away and changed direction, heading for the coat room now. It was no use. "It doesn't matter. Let's go."

Emma stared at Luke from the side, while he had his gaze fixed on the street, his expression pinched. He hadn't said another word since they'd stepped from the bar. His face was stony, and Emma simply didn't understand what was going on.

He was angry because there had been yet another paparazzo set to snap a photograph of them. That much was clear. And naturally he was sick of that shit, but why did he suddenly take it out on her?

It's a photo of you hanging in Dexter's arms and making eyes at him.

Emma crossed her arms and shook her head. It didn't work like that. She was not the kind of woman who simply put up with any airs her boyfriend would put on. Even less so in this case, for he was only her token boyfriend! Only an hour ago, everything had been fine, and now Luke looked as if he had a mind to run his car into the Audi in front of him.

"Okay, enough," she said loudly into the silent vehicle. "You're going to tell me right now what your problem is."

She was prepared to prod him until he would reveal what exactly he was seething with. She didn't expect him to grind his teeth and answer right away.

"My problem? Emma, what do you think is my problem?" His voice sounded strained, and though he hadn't said anything punchy yet, she felt attacked.

"I don't know," she shot back and threw up her arms. "Why do you think I'm asking?"

"Fine." His gaze was unreadable. It was as if he'd erected a diamond-strength wall between them from one moment to the next. "Tomorrow every paper will have a picture of you lying in the arms of my teammate. I think you can imagine the headlines."

She furrowed her brow. "No, I can't. What would that headline be?"

Luke's jaw worked. "The damned headline will be: Luke Carter's girlfriend is cheating on him. What do you think, Emma? Of course they're going to blow it way out of proportion, and insinuate that you're having an affair on the side. That will finally make the Luke Carter angle interesting again."

Emma let out an incredulous laugh. "But all we did was dance. That's totally insane!"

Luke threw her a dark look and pulled into the street where his apartment was located.

"Is it, do you think?" he asked sharply. "It didn't look like innocent dancing to me; it was more like … Shit!"

"What …?" Emma's eyes widened when she realized there were at least a dozen photographers in front of the building, and even a camera team.

Luke swore and pushed the button for the parking garage. "It's getting better and better!"

"But I don't understand … I didn't …" Emma stuttered and turned in her seat, to catch one last glimpse at the tumult, before the gate closed again behind their car.

"You didn't think, that's what. You simply made eyes at Dexter without–"

"Are you kidding me?!" she cut him off. "I didn't make eyes at anyone or anything. I danced with Dexter. We're friends. All we did was dance."

"Sure. All you did was dance."

Luke didn't look at her, pulled the key from the ignition, and got out. Emma felt the anger rise in her stomach, then flood her brain. She threw the door shut with a bang.

"Oh, you're right. He even held on to my hand, wow, now if that wasn't sexy!" she said sarcastically and barely made it into the elevator before the doors closed.

"He held on to some other things, too, I bet …"

"Stop it! You're acting as if I stuck my tongue down his throat right there on the dance floor!"

The elevator stopped. Luke stepped out without a word, walked down the hallway, and fumbled with the lock of the apartment. His silence only served to further enrage Emma. She hadn't done anything wrong! There was nothing he could legitimately accuse her of. The paparazzo appearance might be called bad luck, but it wasn't her fault, was it?

The door was finally open, and Luke took off his jacket. Emma didn't do anything of the sort. She stood in the foyer stunned, staring at the mute block of ice in front of her.

"Would you finally say something!" she finally blurted angrily and dropped her purse. He headed for the fridge and took out a bottle of beer, before turning around, leaning against the counter, and looking at her.

"Why do you think those paparazzi are following us? Why are they camping in front of the building?" It was a rhetorical question, because he answered it himself a second later. "They saw you dance with Dexter, and now they're hoping for a headline!"

His voice was calm and calculated, and Emma wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. "They're hoping to hear us fight up here, throw vases and plates through the window. Do you think they would stand in the street if they weren't convinced that there is something more between you and Dexter than a simple dance?"

Slack-jawed, all Emma could do was blink at him, for she could not believe what he was accusing her of. "You're insane. All I did was dance with him." She stressed the word ‘dance,' with her voice almost breaking. "I danced with him. I didn't sleep with him, okay? I could just as well have danced with my own father, that's how innocent it was."

"Stop talking such bullshit! You were looking at him as if you were ready to tear off your clothes! And all because sometimes you're so insecure that you need to look for male validation!"

Something black and blood-red was flaring up in her chest, and her throat constricted. "I'm not looking for male validation," she said coldly. "And you know how I look when I'm ready to take off my clothes! And … I'm not insecure."

Luke let out a mirthless laugh. "Emma, we've been living together for almost two months! Don't you think that I've come to know you rather well by now? You present yourself as tough, as someone whom the world can't harm, but deep inside you're insecure! I have no idea what your fiancé did to you, but you crave validation by men so much that obviously you didn't think before you acted tonight–"

"You really have no idea, Luke!" she screamed as the anger welled up inside her, scorching her heart. "I am not the problem! You are the problem! Wherever you go, all you see is the bad in people. You're so scared of trusting someone, putting your faith in them, that you prefer throwing random accusations around, just so nobody can get too close. Luke, we've been living together for almost two months! Don't you think that I've come to know you rather well by now?!" she fired his own words back at him. "And for all your talk about knowing me well, you've confused me with one of your sluts rather quickly! I know we only have sex, not a relationship, but that doesn't change the fact that we're also friends. You can say what you want, but I consider us friends, and I'd never harm you on purpose or use you …"

"That's not the point here!" he thundered and hammered his fist on the counter.

"Then what is the point? You're accusing me of being ready to start something with any member of your team, and of a breach of trust, or am I wrong about that?"

A muscle in his face twitched at her last words, but the stony hardness remained. "You should have known better, that is the point!" he yelled. "You shouldn't have danced with him, because you know full well how manipulative the press can be, and that they pounce on anything they think they can spin!"

Emma lowered her arms slowly, before crossing them and stepping towards him with her eyes narrowed. Luke didn't even know what this damn fight was about!

"So I should have known that this paparazzo had sneaked in? I should have spent the evening bored and alone in a corner? And I should have denied a friend a simple dance, because I should have known that my token boyfriend would throw an irrational fit over it?"

"We do have a deal …" he ground out, but Emma cut him off again.

"The deal does not give you the right to tell me what to do!" she flared at him across the kitchen island.

"I didn't mean to tell you–"

"Yes, you did!" She pressed her lips together and then raised her hands. "Fine. I'm out of here. What do you say? Am I allowed to go or not?"

He sighed heavily and shook his head. "You can't leave the house right now. There are paparazzi everywhere."

She raised her eyebrows and gave him a sweet smile. "Watch me and learn."

She took off her coat and let it fall to the floor, followed by her t-shirt.

He frowned at her. "You want to leave the house naked?"

"Better." She turned her back on him, went into the bedroom, and returned with his Delphies jersey. Then she rummaged in her purse, pulled out a Sharpie permanent marker, and crossed out the number fourteen. She cocked her head and looked up at Luke. She put her index finger on her chin in a show of pondering.

"What is Dexter's number again? Oh, right, the eight!" She wrote a large eight next to the crossed-out fourteen, tracing it several times so it would be visible clearly. When she was satisfied about that, she pulled the shirt over her head, letting her hair fall over the collar. "Do you think the paparazzi will appreciate that?"

"Emma …"

Emma couldn't have said whether the tone of his voice was admonitory or just plain angry, and she didn't care. He was acting like an idiot and a jerk, so he might as well feel like both. She grabbed her purse and headed for the front door, but before she left the apartment, she turned around again.

"You know, Luke, if you had any balls, you simply could have admitted that you're jealous and that you've got a problem with trusting people. Bye."