by Gina Wilkins
“Chocolate cake?” Wade repeated, his eyes brightening. “With chocolate frosting?”
“At least an inch of chocolate frosting,” she promised with a smile.
“Oh, man, I’ve gone from a hellish day to a heavenly evening.”
“Does that mean yes, you want some cake?”
He grinned. “Yes, I want some cake.”
“Help yourself to more milk if you like while I cut you a slice.”
He filled his glass to the brim again. “I’ll pay for this, but it’ll be worth it,” he murmured, sitting back down to greedily eye the generous serving of rich chocolate cake Emily had set in front of him. “Aren’t you having any?”
“I had my dessert earlier, with Clay. I’d better resist having more tonight.”
He gave her an assessing look that brought warmth to her cheeks. “You hardly have to worry about your figure,” he said, wriggling his eyebrows in a mock leer.
A bit flustered, she reached quickly for her glass. “I...um...try to watch what I eat,” she muttered.
To her relief, he let it go, turning his attention back to the dessert.
There wasn’t a chocolate crumb left on his plate when he finished, nor a drop of milk left in his glass. He patted his flat stomach. “Worth every calorie,” he declared.
Emily couldn’t help looking at him in much the same way he’d looked at her earlier. Wade didn’t need to count calories, either, she thought. She found his solid build very appealing. Just as she found everything about Wade Davenport appealing.
She rose quickly to carry her glass to the dishwasher. Wade followed with his own dishes, which he rinsed and stacked into the dishwasher with a casualness that spoke of experience. Apparently, Cecilia had her men well trained, since Clay had also matter-of-factly cleared away his own dishes.
She closed the dishwasher and turned, only to find herself suddenly, unexpectedly, only inches away from Wade.
He didn’t move.
“I—er—excuse me,” she said, shifting to go around him.
He placed his hand on her arm and held her where she was. “I think you really have cast a spell over me, Emily McBride,” he muttered, his eyes locked on her mouth with an expression that resembled the hunger he’d shown for his dinner earlier. “Why is it that I can’t stop thinking about you?”
She supposed if she knew the answer to that, she would know why she couldn’t stop thinking about him. “Wade—”
“I can’t get you—or your taste—out of my mind. I want to kiss you again.”
She moistened her lips, which were already tingling in anticipation. “I—I thought we agreed that wasn’t a good idea.”
“That doesn’t make me stop wanting it.”
She wanted it, too. So badly she was trembling. She suspected that he could feel the quivers running through her, and knew he would interpret them correctly. She’d never been very good at hiding her emotions.
“Wade—”
“Let me kiss you, Emily.”
His voice was low, silky, enticing. And she simply couldn’t help herself. With a sigh of surrender, she wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted her lips to his incredibly sexy mouth.
9
WADE LOCKED his arms around Emily and lifted her against him, so tightly she could hardly breathe, as his mouth crushed hers. She wouldn’t have complained even if she had been capable of speech at that point
His hands ran down her back to cup her bottom through her jeans and pull her even more tightly against him. Emily quickly confirmed that he was, indeed, a healthy male with healthy male urges.
Which only fueled her own long-denied urges.
His mouth was hot. Damp. Thorough. His heart pounded against her, pumping as frantically as her own.
The hunger mounted.
Somehow her fingers found their way into the hair at the back of his head. It was short, but soft, and it showed a slight tendency to curl around her fingertips. Her breasts were flattened against his broad chest. The heat of his body penetrated the layers of clothing between them. His thighs, as solid as tree trunks, pressed against hers. And she felt a liquid heat flood her body, from her curled toes to her frantically flushed cheeks.
He tore his mouth from hers to gasp for air. “Emily.” His voice was as rough as sandpaper. It grated pleasantly in her ears. “I’ve wanted you from the first time I saw you—even though I knew I should stay away from you. Every time I’m with you, I only want you more.”
She knew it was pointless to deny that the attraction was mutual. Wade would see right through her.
She tried to remember why this was such a bad idea, when it felt so very good. “It can’t go anywhere, Wade. I’m leaving soon.”
“I’m not asking for promises of forever,” he replied gruffly. “Only a night or two, if that’s all you have to give.”
“People would talk.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Does that bother you?”
She shook her head, trying to shake the images of Sam Jennings and April Penny out of her mind. “I’m used to it. All the McBrides are,” she added with a touch of bitterness. “And it doesn’t matter to me any longer what the people of this town say about me or my family. I’m leaving. But you’re staying. And you’re in a very public position. You don’t know how vicious they can be.”
“ I’m not sure you’re being fair. Most of the people I’ve met in this town have been very nice.”
“Most of them are,” she agreed. “But the ones who aren’t so nice seem to be the most vocal.”
Wade’s eyes were entirely too perceptive as they studied her face. “You’ve been badly hurt.”
“Yes,” she answered candidly. “But I’m not going to let them hurt me any more.”
“You’re running.”
“I’m leaving,” she corrected him, a bit piqued by his choice of words. “Because I want to, not because anyone is making me. And that’s why I think it’s better if you and I don’t let this go any further. There’s no point to it.”
“That’s the reason you keep giving.” He sounded openly skeptical.
“What other reason could there be?” she asked, lifting her chin.
“Maybe you’re afraid that I could tempt you to stay.”
Her heart tripped. “That’s ridiculous,” she said, trying to pull herself out of his arms. “And conceited,” she added.
He didn’t release her. “Maybe. But then, again, maybe I’m right.”
He kissed her again, his hands sliding up her sides, pressing against the outsides of her breasts, making her shudder with wanting. She came all too close to melting against him, begging him to do whatever he could to tempt her to stay.
With a massive effort, she tore her mouth from beneath his, planted both hands against his chest and gave a slight push. It was like trying to move a granite wall. “You aren’t right,” she insisted, her voice hardly recognizable even to her. “Nothing is going to stop me from leaving this town and finding a life somewhere else.”
He brushed his fingers over her swollen lips. “You’re sure about that?”
“Ab—” She stopped to clear her voice. “Absolutely.”
“Then there’s no reason we shouldn’t spend a little time together before you go, is there? Nothing at all for you to be nervous about.”
The slightest hint of a taunt in his voice made her eyes narrow. “I’m not nervous about spending time with you,” she corrected him firmly. “I was only trying to spare you from being the topic of small-town gossip.”
“Oh. So you were turning me down for my own sake.” This time he made no effort to hide his disbelief. “How very thoughtful of you.”
She shoved again, and this time he let her go. She planted her fists on her hips, knowing she looked anything but intimidating with her hair all tumbled and her mouth still damp from his kisses. But she tried to speak coolly, anyway. “Okay, fine. If you don’t care what the people around here say about you, then why should I?”
“Exactly. So you’ll go out with me?”
She shrugged. “Why not? I have some spare time in the next week or so, and I find you rather amusing.”
If she’d been trying to annoy him—and she had—she failed. Wade laughed. “I find you rather amusing, too, Emily McBride,” he murmured, and brushed a kiss across the tip of her nose. “I’ll call you.”
“Fine.”
Only after Wade had left, carrying his sleeping son in his arms, did it occur to Emily that she had just been manipulated by an expert.
What had she been thinking? Hadn’t she been determined not to get involved with Wade Davenport? And now she’d agreed to go out with him. And if she backed out now, he would be convinced it was because she was afraid of falling in love with him, or some such nonsense.
She gulped, wondering nervously just how nonsensical that idea really was.
“WHAT’S THIS I HEAR about you dating Emily McBride?” Martha Godwin demanded of Wade on Monday afternoon. She had come to his office on the pretext of complaining about the noise her neighbor’s teenagers made in the afternoons after school, but Wade sensed that she had just admitted the real reason for her visit
“What makes you think I’m dating Emily McBride?” Wade asked mildly, unwrapping a stick of gum—only because he knew it annoyed Martha when he chewed it.
She eyed him suspiciously. “You haven’t been on a date with her?”
“No,” he replied, though that was only a technicality now that he’d finally finagled a tentative agreement out of Emily. But it was the truth. They hadn’t officially been on a date as of yet. And it was none of Martha Godwin’s business that Wade intended to remedy that situation as soon as possible.
“I also heard that you’re buying her house.”
“That part is true,” he acknowledged. “I’ve made an offer, and the deal is underway. It takes a while to get all the paperwork filed.”
“Where’s she going to live when you move into her place?”
“I don’t know. I’m not privy to her personal business.”
But Martha Godwin wouldn’t have recognized a hint if it walked up and pinched her broad butt, he thought when she only nodded and said, “Well, it wouldn’t be so bad if you were to ask her out Emily’s a nice girl. Past time she settled down with a husband and family of her own. I guess that’s why she had to sell the house and land? Too much for her to take care of by herself? Not that her father was ever any help to her. Of course, I heard his medical bills ran up pretty high, too. Guess she needed the money from the sale of the place.”
Wade remained silent.
“Yes, I think you and Emily would make a nice couple,” Martha continued with a nod of her silvery head, as if the whole thing had been her idea from the beginning. “You need a mother for that little boy, and she needs a man to take care of her. You can bet she won’t be getting any help from that no-account, murdering brother of hers, wherever he is. Just like his father, that boy was. Mean as a snake and a temper like a volcano. Josiah, Jr. was a thoroughly unpleasant man. His first wife died of pneumonia, and she didn’t seem to want to fight very hard to live. And his second wife, the wildest young woman we’ve ever seen in these parts, ran off after being married to him less than five years. Maybe folks could’ve understood her leaving Josiah, but she shouldn’t have run off with another woman’s husband, leaving his family and her own little girl behind to grieve.”
Wade could almost feel the blood trickling out of the side of his mouth as he bit his tongue to keep himself from responding to anything Martha Godwin had just said.
“Hmmph,” she muttered, studying his face and apparently coming to the conclusion that he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of gossiping with her. “Well, you see what you can do about those Smith kids, you hear? And what have you done about those break-ins around here lately? It’s been going on for more than a month now, and as far as I can see, you and your officers haven’t done a thing about them.”
“The case is still under investigation, Mrs. Godwin. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
It usually took a bit more effort than that to get rid of her, but maybe she sensed that she’d pushed Wade far enough that afternoon. With another hmmph and a shake of her head, she marched out of his office, closing the door behind her with a firm snap. Wade resisted the temptation to throw something at that same door in sheer exasperation.
Wow. Emily hadn’t been kidding about the gossip around here. If Martha could be that brazen to Wade’s face, heaven only knew what she’d been saying behind his back.
But he told himself he wasn’t going to worry about that. It was none of the town’s business what relationship—if any—he had with Emily McBride.
He remembered Emily’s airy statement that she wouldn’t have to worry about the gossip because she wouldn’t be around much longer. And he scowled—as he always did when he thought of Emily moving away.
If it was up to him, she wouldn’t be going anywhere—at least, not anytime soon.
Problem was, Emily didn’t think he had anything at all to say about her plans. Well, he was just going to have to see what he could do about changing her mind.
EMILY HAD a meeting Monday evening that lasted until nearly nine o’clock. As she drove home, tired from a day of work and socializing—and from a long night of thinking about Wade’s kisses—she told herself that her community-service days were almost over. At least in Honoria.
In the new life she envisioned for herself, she might occasionally get involved in projects that served society, but it would be at her own discretion, she privately vowed. When she felt like it. She would no longer be at the beck and call of people who had gotten all too accustomed to counting on her.
She stretched as she climbed out of her car. It had been a very long day. She was looking forward to getting inside, where she would make herself a cup of hot tea and snuggle onto the sofa to read or watch TV—and try not to think about Wade.
With her thoughts centered on the sexy chief of police, she shook her mother’s heavy bracelet back on her arm to keep it out of the way as she pushed her key into the lock of her front door. Nothing seemed in the least out of the ordinary to her—until she stepped into her house. Suddenly, she had a sense that something was wrong. Hadn’t she left a lamp on to greet her when she arrived? What...?
A blow on the back of her head made her stagger, her ears ringing, her stomach lurching in response to the violent pain. And then something hit her again. She plunged to the floor and into a darkness that echoed with terror.
WADE HAD TOLD HIMSELF he wasn’t going to stop by Emily’s house that evening. Wasn’t even going to call her. He wanted to give her a little time to think about what had happened between them in her kitchen. And he didn’t want to appear too eager...after all, he had his pride to think of.
As he found himself turning into Emily’s driveway, he came to the rueful conclusion that he had no pride—or self-control—when it came to Emily McBride.
He hadn’t even made a conscious decision to drive to her house. He’d tucked his son into bed, and then, after telling Cecilia he’d be home later, he’d climbed into his Jeep and turned the key. He often went back to his office after Clay went to sleep; he liked being there in the evenings when there were fewer interruptions and he could plow his way through the piles of paperwork that always seemed to accumulate on his desk.
But he hadn’t gone to his office, or even steered the Jeep in that general direction. He had driven straight to Emily’s, as if drawn by a force he simply couldn’t resist. Which wasn’t a bad way to describe his overall reaction to Emily since the first time he’d seen her.
He knew the minute he climbed out of his Jeep that something was wrong. Her car was parked in its usual place, but the house was dark. And the front door was standing open.
Instincts honed by years of police work kicked in, and Wade broke into a run. “Emily?”
He paused only a moment in the doorway. �
��Emily?” he yelled.
He thought he heard someone moan. He ran into the house, only to almost stumble over her where she lay on the living-room floor. Cursing frantically beneath his breath, he groped for a light switch. Light finally flooded the room.
Emily lay tumbled on the carpet, her golden curls tangled, her face pale, her long skirt twisted around her legs. The living room had been trashed—drawers opened, books strewn, cushions tossed on the floor. A small table was overturned next to Emily, the knickknacks that had been displayed on it scattered around her.
His heart stopping, Wade went down on one knee beside her. “Emily? Honey?”
To his relief, her eyelids fluttered, then opened, squinting against the light.
Very carefully, his hand not quite steady, he brushed her hair back from her face. The darkening lump on her forehead caused him concern, as did the blood trickling from a small cut in the center of it She must have hit the table as she’d fallen.
She focused on him intently, as though trying to remember his name. “Wade?” she said after a moment, her voice hoarse.
“Yes. Can you see me clearly?”
“I was thinking of you,” she murmured, still drifting. “When I walked in...”
He ran his hands over her arms and legs, then carefully probed the back of her head. The large lump he found there both appalled and infuriated him.
Someone had hit her.
“I’m going to call for an ambulance,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm. “You lie still.”
“No.” Her fingers curled around his arm with unexpected strength, detaining him when he would have risen. “No ambulance. I’m okay.”
“Emily, you took a nasty blow to the head. You’re going to have it x-rayed, and I’m afraid I’m giving you no choice on that.”
She sighed. “I’ll go, but not in an ambulance. Please. You take me.”
“All right,” he agreed, hoping he was doing the right thing. “But let me call this in first.”