by Gina Wilkins
Low blow, Emily thought with a wince. Tressie knew Toys for Toddlers was one of Emily’s pet projects.
“But, Tressie, a haunted house is very difficult to organize. It requires a lot of planning, manpower and expense. You could end up losing money if you don’t pull it all together.”
“We’ve got lots of people who said they would help,” Tressie countered eagerly. “All we need is someone to help us get started. And since you’ve got experienced...”
Emily could have said no. She even opened her mouth to do so. And then she thought of the toddlers who would get a few extra toys because of this project. And she realized that it might be the last time she could help raise money for the needy children of Honoria.
“All right, Tressie,” she said. “I’ll come to your meeting tomorrow night to talk about it But no promises until we see where we stand, all right?”
“Great!” Emily’s old schoolmate sounded exultant—and totally oblivious to Emily’s hesitation. “I told everyone you would do it. I knew you wouldn’t let us down.”
“We’ll talk about it at the meeting.”
“Sure. This is going to be so much fun.”
Tressie hung up before Emily could tell her that running a haunted house fund-raiser was much more work than fun.
“I’m only doing this because I want to,” Emily said out loud as she hung up the phone. “Not because I’m a doormat who can’t say no.”
Her voice sounded oddly skeptical as it echoed through the empty room.
Her phone rang again only a few minutes later. Wondering what they wanted from her now, Emily answered it warily.
To her relief, it was her aunt, who had just called to chat. “Everyone’s talking about you selling the house,” she said after a few minutes. “They all want to know what your plans are. Marvella asked if you were moving into one of those new apartments over on Magnolia Street. I told her I wasn’t sure what you were planning.”
“Thanks. It’s really no one’s business yet. I thought I’d leave Honoria and just travel for awhile.”
Bobbie’s sigh echoed clearly through the telephone lines. “You sound just like my three children,” she complained. “Not one of them wanted to settle here. Trevor’s off in Washington and Trent’s at the Air Force Academy, and now Tara’s marrying that private investigator and plans to live permanently in Atlanta. You’re the last of your generation still here, and now you want to leave. None of you young people think our little hometown has enough to offer.”
Emily saw no need to mention how much she’d envied her cousins, who’d had the courage and the freedom to chase their dreams. Now Savannah and Tara were both deliriously in love with interesting and exciting men, Trevor was happily married and the father of an adorable son, and Trent was flying jet planes, preparing for a life of adventure.
Lucas...well, Emily didn’t know where her half brother had gone, but he hadn’t stayed around to be the object of gossip. She would never understand why he hadn’t told her goodbye, or why he’d never contacted her again after he left, but she had never really blamed him for leaving. Even if it had meant that Emily’s life had to be put on hold while their father had been unable to take care of himself.
But understanding her brother’s actions hadn’t stopped Emily from missing him. Or wishing she’d had the freedom to follow his example. Now she did. And she was going to let nothing—or no one—stand in her way.
“I was rather hoping,” Bobbie said, “that you and that nice young police chief would hit it off. You seemed so friendly at the fall festival.”
Emily gulped. “I—um—”
“He’s a widower, you know. And a very attractive man, don’t you think?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“I was thinking about inviting you both over for dinner. Wouldn’t you like to get to know him a little better, Emily? He could be Mr. Right.”
But Emily wasn’t looking for Mr. Right. Especially when the nearest candidate was a man who intended to settle permanently in Honoria. A man who came with a young son and all the responsibilities that accompanied a ready-made family.
“No, please, Aunt Bobbie. Don’t start matchmaking. I’m really not interested just now, okay?”
Bobbie wasn’t pleased that her romantic plotting had been derailed and she made little effort to hide it But she seemed to realize she could hardly force her niece into a courtship. “All right, Emily, if that’s what you want.”
“Thank you.”
“Come for Sunday lunch after church.” Bobbie spoke with the imperious air developed through many years of teaching junior-high-school students.
Though it was more of a command than an invitation, Emily accepted graciously. “All right. Thank you, I’d love to join you and Uncle Caleb for Sunday lunch.”
Emily hung up with a weary sigh. She hoped her aunt would just leave well enough alone. As kindhearted as she was, Aunt Bobbie could be ruthless when she set herself a goal.
Emily had set a goal of her own—to get out of Honoria. To find the dreams she’d somehow lost during the past few years.
And she wasn’t going to let her loyalty to her family or her attraction to Honoria’s new police chief stand in the way.
CONSIDERING THE WAY things had been going, Emily shouldn’t have been surprised that Wade Davenport was the first person she saw at the Honoria Community League Thursday evening. Maybe if she had prepared herself, she wouldn’t have reacted to the sight of him with a racing pulse, a catch in her throat, and a blush on her cheeks.
Emily could only hope that no one noticed.
“Hello, Wade,” she said, greeting him casually. “Have you become a member of the Community League?”
“Actually, I’m just visiting tonight I had several invitations, and I thought it would be a good way to meet a few locals I haven’t gotten to know yet,” he explained.
She nodded. “Good idea. I hope there will be a nice attendance this evening. The club’s membership has been dropping during the past few years. People seem to be too busy at home to get involved in community-service organizations.”
“You seem to stay very active in the community.”
She made a face. “I have a speech impediment. Can’t seem to say that two-letter word that begins with n and ends with o.”
Wade laughed. “I’ve suffered from that same malady at times. It’s a real pain to have a social conscience, isn’t it?”
“Chief Davenport! I’m so glad you could make it tonight.” Leslie Anne Cantrell bore down on them with a beaming smile and a not-so-subtle wiggle in her walk. “Come in and let me introduce you to everyone. Oh, hi, Emily,” she added offhandedly, already towing Wade away.
Apparently, Emily thought dryly, Leslie Anne had set her sights on yet another single man. She’d already been through most of Honoria’s eligible bachelors—and a few that hadn’t been technically eligible. Every town had at least one man-eater, and Leslie Anne was Honoria’s—now that Emily’s mother was no longer around.
Emily briefly considered warning Wade about the woman—and then she shook her head, telling herself not to be silly. Wade Davenport was certainly capable of taking care of himself where women were concerned. And it was none of Emily’s business, anyway.
She was acting as if she was jealous that Leslie Anne had practically draped herself all over Wade. And that, of course, was ridiculous. Emily had no reason at all to be jealous over Wade Davenport.
WADE WATCHED Emily during the meeting. He tried to be discreet about it, but he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes from turning her direction. She looked so pretty in a soft, pale green sweater that seemed designed for touching. Though he’d attempted to put her out of his mind since their meeting at the sandwich shop, he hadn’t been particularly successful.
Seeing her this evening—and reacting to her as he did—reminded him why.
He winced a little as he thought of her joke that she was unable to say “no.” She’d had no problem doing so with him. But
he could see how much trouble she had resisting the club members, who seemed determined to make her chairwoman of their put-together-at-the-last-possible-minute haunted-house project. By the time the meeting ended, Emily had managed to refuse that position, but still agreed to help. Wade suspected that she would be doing most of the work, since few others in the group of approximately thirty people seemed to have any trouble making excuses.
It occurred to him that nearly every time he’d seen her, she’d been doing something for others. Dog-sitting. Painting faces and judging a baking contest. Taking his son on a Ferris-wheel ride. Helping with this project. Since he’d been seen with her at the festival, several people had described her to him as a young woman with a big heart and an overdeveloped social conscience.
While Wade admired her generosity, he wondered how much of it had been influenced by the unhappy family history he’d heard about Deserted at a very young age by her mother. Later abandoned by her older brother. Left alone to care for her father during his lengthy illness. Had she become a “people pleaser” because of that background?
He thought of her rather vague plans to leave Honoria, to find a life for herself somewhere else. He supposed he could understand that she would be ready to stop living for everyone else and start taking care of Emily. He even understood the urge to get away from what she knew and try to find happiness somewhere else. After all, hadn’t that been exactly what he’d been doing when he’d left the bustle of Atlanta for quiet little Honoria?
He couldn’t help wondering, though, if Emily would find out the hard way that real peace came from within, not from outward surroundings. It was a lesson Wade himself was still trying to learn.
“So, do you think you can help us out any with the haunted house, Chief Davenport?” The man who asked was thin, except for a slight pudge above his belt, and had a premature bald spot developing at the back of his head. Wade thought his name was Arnie something-or-other, and that he owned a small convenience store at the west end of Main Street.
“I don’t have much spare time to commit to the project,” Wade answered, unwilling to sacrifice any more of the hours he was able to spend with his son. “But I’ll make sure you have plenty of security for the event. Sometimes crowds get out of hand at this sort of attraction.”
His promise apparently satisfied the members of the dub, who all nodded contentedly. Wade could tell they didn’t expect any real trouble with their project. Any group that put together a haunted house in Atlanta would have considered security one of the first priorities, he thought with a slight smile.
Wade managed to find a place by the door so that he just happened to be in a position to walk Emily to her car. Even as he fell into step beside her, he felt uncomfortably like a teenager hanging around the locker of the cheerleader he had a crush on, hoping she would notice him. Pushing that sheepish analogy to the back of his mind, he cleared his throat.
“Interesting meeting.”
Emily groaned softly and glanced around to make sure no one could hear her. “I can’t believe they think they’re going to pull all this together in less than three weeks.”
“You don’t think it can be done?”
“Oh, sure, it can be done. If someone is willing to work her fingers off.”
Her dry tone let Wade know exactly who Emily expected to be doing all that work. “You could have always said no,” he suggested.
She smiled wryly and shook her head. “You’re forgetting about my speech impediment. That word just won’t seem to come out of my mouth—especially when others hint that there will be no toys for toddlers this Christmas if I don’t help with this project.”
“Sucker.”
She chuckled in response to his teasing tone. “That’s me.”
“You have a kind heart, Emily McBride,” he said, sobering. “That’s nothing to apologize for.”
He thought she might have blushed a little, though it was hard to tell in the artificial lighting of the parking lot. She changed the subject. “I understand you’re coming to look at my house Saturday morning with your Realtor.”
“Yes. She assured me that would be a convenient time for you.”
“Of course.” They had reached her car. Emily slid her key into the lock and glanced at Wade over her shoulder. “Well...good night, Wade.”
The security lamp above and behind him illuminated her face, highlighting her blond curls, gleaming softly in her blue eyes, making her mouth glisten.
Her mouth. Wade found himself staring at her lips, at the tiny dimple at the right corner, imagining the feel and taste of her.
He wanted to kiss her. Wanted it so badly that he felt a fine tremor run through him as he worked to resist the urge.
Damn. What was happening here? When was the last time any woman had made his hands shake?
He shoved them quickly into his pockets, and out of danger.
He reminded himself that they weren’t on a date. That Emily had made it clear that she wasn’t interested in dating him. But that didn’t change the fact that he still wanted to kiss her.
He realized that he was still staring at her mouth. He quickly lifted his gaze, only to find his eyes locked with hers. And his mind emptied of coherent thought.
“Wade?” Emily sounded uncertain. “Good night.”
“Oh. Uh, yeah. See you around.”
He forced himself to take a step backward. It was probably the hardest step he’d ever taken.
After a moment, Emily climbed into her car and closed the door with a decisive snap. Wade walked to his Jeep, cursing himself for acting like an idiot around this woman. For wanting something he couldn’t have. And for proving, once again, that he had a real knack for being attracted to women who were entirely wrong for him.
HE HAD WANTED to kiss her.
As she drove home with that thought echoing in her mind, Emily tried to tell herself that she was being silly. Fanciful Conceited. Wade had done absolutely nothing to indicate that he wanted to kiss her. Except to look at her mouth. For what had seemed like a very long time. And then he’d met her eyes with what might have been a glint of hunger in his.
She shook her head, muttering to herself. Apparently, it wasn’t enough that she had developed this embarrassingly juvenile and ill-timed crush on Honoria’s new chief of police. Now she was trying to convince herself that he felt the same way about her.
Ridiculous.
And even if he was attracted to her—if only a little—she’d already decided that it would be unwise to act on that attraction. Especially considering that she was still officially a suspect in his case. And now that she’d gotten reluctantly involved in a project that was going to take most of her free time for the rest of the month, she simply didn’t have time to get involved in a relationship, or an affair, or whatever it was that Wade Davenport might have had in mind when he’d looked at her and thought about kissing her.
WADE DROVE UP to Emily’s house Saturday morning and noted immediately that his Realtor’s car wasn’t there. Though he was on time—it was exactly ten o’clock—apparently he’d beaten her there. He wondered if he should wait in the car for her to arrive, or get out and ring Emily’s doorbell.
Clay settled the question for him. He had his door open and was out of the car the moment Wade turned off the engine.
“Daddy, I like this house,” said the child who’d found something to criticize about both of the houses they’d visited before. Wade hadn’t even told him who owned this one.
Wade climbed out of the Jeep. “What do you like about it?”
Hands on his slender hips, Clay cocked his red head and looked thoughtfully around. “I like the porch. And the big trees. And the...Daddy, look! It’s Miss Emily.”
Wade swiveled around to find Emily watching them from her porch. And despite all the lectures he’d given himself on the way over about acting like an adult and responding to her with his brains instead of his libido, he still had to gulp before he could force a smile.
&
nbsp; He still wanted to kiss her.
“Good morning,” he said. “Are we early?”
“No. Actually, there’s a slight problem. Mary Kay just called. Her husband has been rushed to the hospital for emergency surgery and she’s going to have to break your appointment this morning.”
“That’s terrible. I hope he’ll be all right.”
“She seemed to think everything will be okay once the operation is over. An appendectomy, I think.”
“We’ll reschedule, then.”
Emily shook her head. “You’re here now. Why don’t I show you the place?”
“This is your house, Miss Emily?” Clay asked, wide-eyed.
Emily smiled. “Yes. Would you like to see it, Clay?”
He nodded fervently and skipped toward the porch where she stood. “Yes, please.”
Wade followed more sedately, wondering if this was such a good idea, after all. It seemed that a weakness for Emily McBride was something the Davenport men shared. Clay was gazing at her like a lovesick puppy—and Wade could only hope that he wasn’t wearing a similar expression.
Emily held out her hand to Clay, who promptly slipped his into it. “Come on,” she said, glancing back at Wade. “I’ll show you around.”
Wade had already seen the living room, of course, though Emily paused there to give him a chance to look it over again. Clay headed straight for the table that held all the framed photographs. “Who are all these people?” he asked.
“Clay, we’re here to see the house, not Miss Emily’s personal things,” Wade reminded his son.
Emily ignored him. “Those are all photographs of members of my family,” she explained to Clay. “The oldest picture is of my grandparents, Josiah and Anna Mae McBride. The others are all photos of their descendents.”