Emily hurried toward him as quickly as the box in her arms would allow.
Seeing her, Dan dropped the apron on the table marked Kingsland/Corn bread. “Let me help you with that.” He rushed forward.
Their forearms brushed as the transfer was made. “I didn’t think you were going to make it this morning,” Emily said, tingling at the contact and catching a whiff of his crisp aftershave.
Emily tore her eyes away from the just-shampooed softness of his sandy-blond hair. He’d shaved, too—in the bright morning sunlight flooding through the windows, she could see just how close.
Dan set the box down on the table. “I talked to my clients. Fortunately they were understanding—that isn’t always the case—and agreed to reschedule their session with me for this evening.”
Emily set the ingredients on the table. “Kayla’s going to be really happy.”
“I don’t know. She was still pretty mad at me this morning.”
Finished, Emily rocked back on her heels. Her glance was compassionate. “You didn’t know.”
Dan exhaled. “I should have.”
Nothing she could say to that. It was true. They stared at each other in silence.
The mom in charge came by. She looked at Dan and Emily. “Which of you is making the corn-bread stuffing with the kids?”
“We both are,” Dan said, extending a hand. “I’m Dan Kingsland. This is Emily Stayton. I’ve never made stuffing. She has. So she’ll be doing the teaching.”
“Great. Glad to have you both.” The mom looked at Emily’s trim black skirt and green sweater. “Cute, the way you dressed alike, too.”
Emily blushed. She’d been so busy looking at Dan and enjoying his company she hadn’t noticed. “Completely accidental, I assure you,” she murmured.
The mom laughed. “Great minds think alike, hmm?” she said. She hurried off, tossing her departing words over her shoulder. “I’ll see what I can do about finding another apron!”
Dan winked at Emily. “If our matching attire embarrasses you, I could go home and change.”
Emily’s cheeks warmed all the more. “And miss a single second of this gala?” she teased back, determined to hold her own with him. “Not a chance.”
Their eyes held again. As the moment drew out and awareness grew, she thought about the night they’d made love, the pleasure they’d both felt, the warmth and tenderness he’d shown her. If only their lives weren’t on such different paths, she thought wistfully. But they were, so there was no use pretending they were anything more than boss/employee.
She pulled her gaze away and began rearranging the ingredients on the table.
Obviously perplexed by the abrupt dampening of her mood, Dan plucked his apron off the table and handed it to her. “In case they don’t have extra, you can have this one.”
Glad to have something else besides the ingredients and his sexy presence to focus on, Emily unfolded the white cotton. “I have a feeling you’re going to need it more than me.”
His eyes lit up at the teasing jab. “Ha-ha.”
She motioned for him to bend down so she could slip the loop over his head. Because he still seemed a little clueless, she straightened the fabric, then grabbed the ties and stepped behind him. “At least you look professional,” she joked.
He chuckled and sensual electricity arced through her.
“Careful,” he warned with a playful lift of his brows. “I just might show you up.”
“That’ll be the day,” Emily joked back. Although, given the skill he’d shown just about everywhere else, especially in the bedroom…
“Daddy!” Kayla’s exuberant voice had them turning in unison.
The eight-year-old barreled into Dan’s arms. “I didn’t think you were going to come!”
He hugged his daughter tight.
“And Emily, too!” Kayla reached over and grabbed Emily, bringing the three of them into a group hug. Emily’s eyes met Dan’s over Kayla’s head. This is what it must feel like to be part of a complete family, she thought.
When she’d decided to become pregnant, she hadn’t felt she needed a conventional family to find the happiness she’d been yearning for. She’d thought a baby alone would do it. Now she couldn’t help but wonder. Had she been wrong?
After a few moments, Kayla ended the embrace. She jumped up and down, exclaiming, “Emily, I told my teacher we made the corn bread together last night!”
Kayla’s teacher waved all the students to the center of the cafeteria. “Whoops! I gotta go!” The little girl raced off.
Dan turned to Emily and observed dryly, “I think she might be excited.”
Still feeling the warmth of the family hug, Emily smiled. “Just a little bit.” Kayla isn’t the only one, she thought.
LUCKILY FOR EMILY, she had plenty to keep her occupied the rest of the day. As did Dan. Hence it was with relief, or so she told herself, that they parted company immediately after the third-grade Thanksgiving feast.
For a change, Tommy was the first one home.
“Where’s Dad?” Tommy asked, coming into the kitchen at five-fifteen and carrying his athletic bag.
Noting the teen looked like he needed his dad now, Emily delivered the bad news. “He’s having dinner with a client.”
Tommy grabbed the next available lifeline. “Uncle Walt?”
“Also meeting with a client. He won’t be here for dinner tonight, either.”
Tommy’s shoulders slumped. She watched as he walked into the laundry room. Moments later she heard the washer rumble on. Then, as she was putting romaine lettuce into the salad spinner, he came back into the kitchen, sat down at the counter and buried his head in his hands.
Her heart going out to the dispirited boy, she asked, “Anything I can help you with?”
Tommy exhaled loudly. “Doubt it.”
Emily handed Tommy a big glass of ice water. “Try me.”
For a moment Emily didn’t think Tommy would confide in her. Then he lifted his head and began to speak. “Friday night is our first official wrestling meet. We had a practice run. I lost my match and I shouldn’t have. I’m better than that guy. But I just…I don’t know…I ran out of steam at the end.”
Emily had been waiting for a chance to talk to Tommy about his eating habits. “It must be hard, trying to stay a certain weight,” she sympathized.
“Harder than I thought,” Tommy lamented. He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s okay if you’re underweight—you can always wrestle in a heavier class. But you can’t exceed the weight you’re supposed to wrestle at.”
Emily leaned against the counter, listening. “How are you doing?”
“Actually I was two and a half pounds under today at the weigh-in,” Tommy reported proudly.
“That’s good.”
“Yeah, I was relieved. Some of the guys were over their stated limit.”
Which meant, Emily knew, they couldn’t wrestle at all. Figuring it was now or never, Emily retrieved her shoulder bag and withdrew a stack of stapled papers she’d printed out. “You know your dad hired me to consult, as well as cook?”
Tommy nodded.
“Well, I was thinking about what I needed to do for you…. So since I don’t know a lot about wrestling, I went to the website for the Olympic Training Center and got some information on what their athletes eat.” She handed him the papers. “Take a look and see what you think, and then we’ll figure out how to best handle your nutritional needs while you’re competing.”
EMILY WAS JUST GETTING ready for bed when Dan called that evening. “Hey,” he said softly, “it’s Dan.”
She knew. Her consciousness had been imprinted with his voice long before they had ever foolishly made love. Feeling the baby kick, as if to say hello to Dan, too—she climbed into bed. Relaxing against the pillows, she put one hand on her tummy. “Everything okay?”
“Everything’s great. Tommy’s really happy about all the information you pulled together for him.”
&n
bsp; Emily warmed at Dan’s praise. Trying hard not to think about the night Dan had lain here next to her, she turned her thoughts back to the business of helping his son. “Tommy will have a much easier time making weight if he sticks to the high-carbohydrate diet. Which brings me to the next point. I know you wanted everyone to be eating the same thing—and I can do that to a point—but with Tommy in training, he’s going to need some adjustments to his evening meal that the others won’t.”
“That’s fine. I primarily wanted everyone to come together, as a family, and that seems to be happening more and more each day.”
“I’ve noticed the change, too.” Emily paused, wishing they could continue to talk personal matters like this. But with the lines between them already hopelessly blurring, she knew it would be wiser to avoid temptation. She forced a brisk professional note into her voice. “Was there anything else?”
Dan cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, yes. I’m not going to be there for dinner tomorrow night, either, although Walt will be.”
Emily quelled her disappointment. Wise or not, she had gotten used to seeing him most every evening. “Thanks for letting me know in advance.” She forced herself to sound ultracasual. “Do you want me to leave a plate for you in the fridge?”
“If you wouldn’t mind,” he said just as casually, “that would be great.”
Now it was her turn to deliver some not-so-terrific news. Emily took a deep breath. “I hate to do this, but I’m going to need both Friday and Saturday evenings off this week. I’m going down to Fredericksburg on Friday morning to meet with the attorney Tex hired to draft our partnership agreement.”
Silence fell.
Emily wished she and Dan were face-to-face. She wanted to be able to look at his expression, see what he was thinking.
Finally Dan asked, in a voice that remained cautiously matter-of-fact, “Does this mean you’ve decided to go into business with him?”
Emily rubbed her hand over her tummy. “I’m still thinking about it. Considering all my options. But yes, I’m definitely leaning in that direction.”
Dan cleared his throat. “Did you and Tex still want me to meet you there Saturday at noon?”
Emily envisioned seeing Dan on her old stomping grounds. Would that be more romantic—or less? Especially given that her ex-fiancé would be there with him. Aware she still hadn’t answered Dan’s question, she said, “Yes. I’ll e-mail the directions to you.”
Another pause, and this time Emily could have sworn she heard the reservation in Dan’s voice. “I’ll see you then.”
SATURDAY DAWNED HUMID and cool, with heavy afternoon storms predicted for most of the state. Dan encountered no rain on the four-hour drive south, but the horizon was darkening ominously by the time he turned his luxury SUV into the lane that led to Emily’s childhood home. She was already there waiting for him, sitting on the steps of the wide front porch of the small, white-stone ranch house.
Acutely aware he hadn’t laid eyes on her in almost seventy-two hours, Dan cut the engine and got out. She was smiling from ear to ear, looking as at ease in the country as she did the city. She stood up and dusted off the back of her pants. “Glad you could make it,” she said as she ambled down the steps.
She wore close-fitting jeans tucked into knee-high suede boots, a red, long-sleeved T-shirt that showed off the soft slope of her baby bump and a short denim jacket that no longer met in the middle. Her hair was loose and wavy, her cheeks pink.
Telling himself not to get too excited—this was a business trip after all—Dan slung his camera around his neck and grabbed his notepad. “Tex here yet?” he asked.
Emily stood beside Dan. “He had to go to his orchard in the Rio Grande Valley. They’re expecting a big freeze from that cold front moving our way. He’s got to make sure his citrus crop is protected.”
Dan tried not to look too happy about the man’s absence.
Emily stuck her hands in the pockets of her jacket. “I thought we’d tour the house last. See the barn and orchard first.”
“Sounds good.”
Together they walked across a gravel drive and an un-manicured lawn to a large, white two-story barn. Weathered wood showed beneath the peeling paint. Inside, the cement floor was stained with motor oil, mud and what appeared to be the remains of spoiled fruit.
“I know.” Emily sighed. “The previous owners did a lousy job of taking care of the place.”
Dan got his camera out. Noting the barn had no electricity, he checked out the integrity of the structure—the place seemed solid—and took flash photos.
“We were thinking the house would eventually be a small restaurant or tearoom, which could be expanded if business proves good enough.”
“Gotcha.”
Emily gestured expansively at their surroundings. “And this barn would be a retail space.”
“Two floors or one?” Dan asked.
“Two—if we can swing it financially,” she said.
Dan nodded.
From there, they walked to the orchard. There were rows upon rows of trees. “My dad planted all twelve varieties of Texas peaches,” Emily said. “The first crop was ready in early May, the last in early August.”
“So you had fruit…”
“For nearly four months. If we were to eventually farm tomatoes and apples, as Tex has suggested, we’d have crop to sell through October.”
“That’s great.”
Emily led the way through the weed-choked aisles. “A lot of these trees are in really bad shape, though. They haven’t been pruned in I don’t know how long.” Emily pivoted on her heel and stood facing Dan, her hands shoved in the back pockets of her jeans. Her posture only accentuated her baby bump—to Dan, she had never looked sexier.
Emily was frowning. “New trees should have been planted in the places where others were lost, but haven’t been. Fortunately—” her serious blue gaze meshed with Dan’s green one again “—it’s nothing a lot of hard work won’t fix.”
He nodded and took some pictures of the rows of fruit trees, too. “Are peaches all that’s grown here?”
“On this farm. Tex’s folks expanded to include blackberries, strawberries, nectarines and plums, and he’d like to do the same over here, as well as add the aforementioned tomatoes and apples on the forty acres that aren’t being farmed.”
“So the orchards would go right up to the house and barn,” Dan said.
Emily nodded, not looking happy about that. “Pretty much, yes. There’d be very little yard when all was said and done.”
Or privacy, Dan thought. Especially if they turned the barn into a retail store.
Together, they headed back to the house. All around them, the wind was whipping up, pushing the hair into their eyes and plastering their clothes to their bodies. By the time they reached the front porch of the house, big fat drops of rain were falling.
Emily opened the door. Dan wasn’t sure what he was expecting when she led the way inside.
Certainly not what he saw.
EMILY HIT THE LIGHTS, then turned to see the amazed look on Dan’s face. Obviously he’d expected an empty home.
“Tex bought the place furnished.”
Dan continued to look around. “I see why you wanted to buy it,” he said, as impressed as she had been when she’d first laid eyes on the house again.
“It’s perfect for a small family.”
Emily showed him through the living room with its wide-plank oak floors, steeply angled ceiling and whitewashed paneling. Built-in bookshelves flanked the white-stone fireplace. An overstuffed chintz sofa and chairs formed a conversation area in front of the fire, and floor-length draperies matched the upholstery. Behind the living room was a country kitchen, with wood floor, white cabinets, large farmhouse-style sink, stainless-steel appliances and marble countertops. An oak table accommodated four ladder-back chairs.
On the opposite side of the hall that ran front to back was a master bedroom with a four-poster bed and updated b
ath, complete with claw-foot tub and shower stall. A small nursery, decorated with a unisex pastel alphabet theme, was at the rear.
The place, which even had plantation shutters covering every window, was absolutely gorgeous and move-in ready. All she had needed to bring for her weekend stay were clothes and food. Everything else, down to the linens and dishes, was already here.
Dan continued to look around as they made their way past the laundry closet and into the kitchen. He shook his head, baffled. “It’s hard to reconcile this with the condition of the rest of the property,” he said.
Emily nodded, unable to mask her disappointment about that. “They really let the orchards and barn go.”
“You had planned to live here.”
Emily nodded. “I’d hoped to close on the property and be living here in my childhood home by Christmas.” Sadness swept through her. “But it didn’t work out…” She corralled her emotions with effort and moved past Dan, avoiding his assessing gaze. “Would you like some tea? I’m really…cold…for some reason.”
“The temperature is dropping outside.”
Emily paused in the act of reaching for the kettle. “Maybe I should build a fire first.” She’d had one the night before and it had really warmed the house through and through, just as it had when she was a child.
Dan held up a staying hand. “Why don’t you let me handle that,” he said with a comforting smile that made her very glad he was here. He was, she decided as she set about completing the task, exactly the distraction she needed.
Chapter Eight
“You don’t like this idea, either,” Dan guessed four hours later.
Emily leaned against the kitchen counter, studying the image Dan had conjured up on his laptop computer screen. The rain was still pounding relentlessly on the roof. “It’s not that it isn’t a gorgeously imagined building,” she said carefully.
Dan pushed back his chair and stood, too. “It’s that you don’t want to turn your childhood home into a restaurant.”
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