An expression he couldn’t decipher flickered in her eyes. “I hadn’t thought much about it.”
Dan couldn’t hide his surprise. Although Amy had holidays off, they’d always spent them together. And she’d always gotten into the holiday spirit way before the actual day, planning menus and what they could do to make the day special for Emma. Of course that was before Steven.
“I’m hoping you’ll spend the day with us,” Dan said. “Unless you have plans with someone else?”
A startled look crossed her face before her eyes grew shuttered.
“I sort of thought I’d stick around here.” Her gaze lowered to the desktop and her finger traced an imaginary pattern on the glass.
Relief flowed through Dan. He couldn’t imagine spending the day with anyone else. She’d been a big part of his Thanksgiving for the past three years. The first year she’d single-handedly prepared a meal for him and Tess and a houseful of guests. The next year Tess was gone and Dan had no interest in entertaining. Though he’d told her not to bother, Amy had made dinner and insisted he sit down and eat. Every year she’d outdone herself.
Impulsively Dan rose, rounded the desk and took a seat in the chair next to her. Taking her hand, he gently caressed her palm with his thumb.
“I can’t imagine spending Thanksgiving with anyone but you.” His gaze remained riveted to hers. “You’re the one I want with me. Understand?”
Amy entwined her fingers with his. The deep blue of his eyes drew her in and she found herself slipping from the firm shore of what she’d always known to a place where she could be over her head in an instant.
But she wanted him and when he tugged her to him she went willingly, eagerly. While he hadn’t said he loved her, he’d come close. For now that was good enough.
Dan raked his fingers through his hair, grateful for Emma’s nonstop chatter beside him as they walked to the park.
You’re the one I want with me.
Even to his ears the words sounded like a declaration.
After his talk with Angela, Dan had vowed that he would not mislead Amy about his feelings. If she committed to him it would be based on the friendship and trust that existed between them—not because he implied he was in love with her.
Because he wasn’t in love with her. Tess had been his soul mate and everyone knew you only got one of those.
“Amy’s making a booberry pie for Thanksgiving,” Emma said. “I don’t think I’ve ever had that kind. Have you, Daddy? Is it good?”
Dan pulled his thoughts to the present and to his little girl. He smiled down at her and love welled up inside him. “I have and it’s very good. Especially with ice cream.”
“I can’t wait for Thanksgiving.” Emma did a little dance on the sidewalk. “Amy makes everything good.”
Dan wasn’t sure if his daughter was talking about merely the food or the atmosphere. Either way, he had to agree.
He cast aside any lingering doubts and solidified his decision to marry her. She’d be a good wife. A wonderful mother. A passionate lover. He’d do everything in his power to make her happy.
Now all he had to do was get her to say yes.
Chapter Twelve
Amy glanced at the clock on her dashboard and pressed harder on the accelerator. Dan had taken Emma for a walk while she’d finished her French pastries. But dropping them off at Chez Gladines had taken longer than she’d planned. Now she was late. After so many years in the school system, Aunt Verna didn’t tolerate tardiness well.
Amy had been looking forward to puttering around the house, finishing a few projects and most of all just spending the day with Dan and Emma. But Verna was in town and wanted to see her. How could she say no?
She’d thought she was meeting her aunt at a restaurant for coffee. But the address Verna gave her led her to a brick home in Lincolnshire. If Aunt Verna’s Saturn hadn’t been in the driveway, she’d have thought she was at the wrong place.
Amy glanced at the piece of paper on the seat next to her, then back at the numbers on the mailbox. That was the address she’d been given. And that was her aunt’s car. So, this must be the place.
In less than a minute, Amy stood on the front stoop, listening to the ring of the doorbell echoing through the house. The door opened and relief flowed through Amy at the sight of her aunt. Verna stood in the doorway, ramrod stiff, her lips pursed together. “You’re late.”
The bluntness was typical Verna. Her aunt had never been a subtle woman. Sugarcoating was something only done to cookies. Still, over the years Amy and her aunt had bonded and she’d come to love the taciturn woman.
“Well, are you going to stand there staring, or are you going to give me a hug?” The words shot from Verna’s lips like a bullet.
Amy laughed and wrapped her arms around Verna’s stiff shoulders. “I’ve missed you.”
But the hug only lasted a second before Verna pulled away, her voice brusque. “Now that we’ve given the neighbors plenty to talk about, come inside and I’ll show you the place.”
Amy followed her aunt into a large living room with a fireplace across the far wall. Other than Verna’s sofa and love seat, there wasn’t much else in the way of furniture. Several cardboard boxes sat in the middle of the floor. The place had a definite just-moved-in feel to it.
She turned to her aunt. “Is this yours?”
Verna’s lips curved slightly upward. “Mine and the mortgage company’s.”
“I didn’t know you were that serious about moving.” Amy tried to keep the hurt from her voice. She couldn’t believe her aunt had bought a house and moved without telling her.
“It dropped in my lap,” Verna said. “My friend decided to participate in a teacher exchange program with a school in Germany. Her kids are grown and she plans to buy a town house when she returns.”
“I never thought you’d leave Mankato.” Amy remembered how active Verna had been in the small Minnesota community. “You knew practically everyone in town.”
“I’ve got friends here,” Verna said, ushering Amy into the kitchen.
Amy’s smile faded.
“And family,” Verna added hastily.
Amy resisted the urge to sigh. While deep in her heart she knew her aunt loved her, she’d always felt more like an obligation. That was part of the reason she was so determined to marry for love. She wanted the man she married to be as crazy about her as she was about him. For once, she wanted to come first in someone’s life.
“Have a seat,” Verna ordered, gesturing toward an oak pedestal table already set for tea. “We’ll have tea and cookies before I show you around.”
Amy sat down and, with typical Verna efficiency, the tea was soon in her cup and several cookies on her plate.
“Tell me what you’ve been up to.” Verna nibbled on a shortbread cookie, a curious glint lighting her eyes. “Are you dating anyone?”
“I’ve gone out a few times with a guy I met in my cooking club,” Amy said. “He’s nice.”
Nice. Not special. Not like Dan.
If she and her aunt were confidants, Amy would have mentioned Dan, maybe even sought her aunt’s advice. But Verna had never really made an attempt to get to know Dan, despite Amy’s repeated tries.
Verna lifted a perfectly tweezed brow. “Are you spending Thanksgiving with him?”
“Steven hasn’t asked,” Amy said. “But if he did I’d have to say no. I’m cooking dinner for Dan and Emma.”
“Working on Thanksgiving?” Verna’s mouth drew together in disapproval. “Surely that man can spare you for one day.”
Amy’s spine stiffened and she dropped her cookie back to the plate. Aunt Verna and Steven always made it sound like Dan was some sort of ogre when nothing could be further from the truth. Emma and Dan were like family. She wanted to celebrate the holidays with them.
“Of course he’d give me the day off if I asked him,” Amy said, unable to keep the indignation from her voice. “But I love to cook and holidays are a big deal
for Emma—”
Verna’s eyes flashed. “It’s also a time for you to be with your family.”
Amy suddenly realized this wasn’t about Dan. This was about Verna. For the last five or six years her aunt had spent Thanksgiving in Texas with a close friend and her family. But buying the house must have put her in a bind and now she was facing a holiday alone.
Reaching across the table Amy covered her aunt’s hand with her own. “Come and spend Thanksgiving with us. I know Dan would love to see you again.”
“You talk like it’s your house,” Verna said in a no-nonsense tone. “He’s your employer, Amy, not your husband.”
Amy’s cheeks burned as if she’d been slapped. “I think I know who he is, Aunt Verna.”
Her words were as measured and clipped as her aunt’s had been.
“I didn’t mean to make you angry.” Verna’s eyes were clear and direct. “But I’m worried about you.”
Amy gave a little laugh. “Worried? Why?”
Verna’s gaze never wavered. “You’re twenty-eight years old. It’s time you had a family of your own.”
“But—”
“Hear me out.” Verna raised a hand. “I know you enjoy being that child’s nanny, but you’re not getting any younger. It’s time you started thinking of yourself. Started thinking what it is you want out of life.”
I want Dan.
Amy kept her mouth closed. She already knew what her aunt would say if she mentioned her daydreams about Dan, about how she hoped they could one day be a family. Verna would tell her she needed to be realistic, to see life as it was, not how she wished it would be.
“I love Emma,” Amy said instead. “She and Dan are like family.”
“You’ve been there too long,” Verna said. “You’re too attached.”
Of course she was attached. For the past three years Dan and Emma had been her family. The three of them had spent every holiday together. And not just holidays. She’d been there to celebrate Emma’s birthday…and Dan’s. And they’d celebrated hers.
Amy took a sip of tea, met her aunt’s gaze and took the plunge. “Lately Dan has been making noises like he’d like to date me. Maybe see where things could go between us.”
Verna closed her eyes and visibly shuddered. “A recipe for disaster.”
“Maybe not,” Amy said. “We’ve always gotten along so well.”
“Because you’re his employee,” Verna said. “You wait on that man hand and foot.”
“I do—” Amy started to protest then stopped herself. Her lips curved up in a rueful smile. “Okay, I’ll admit it. I like to pamper Dan.”
Verna didn’t even crack a smile.
“That’s precisely why you get along so well.” Verna stabbed the air with one finger for extra emphasis. “He says jump, you ask how high.”
“You forget taking care of him and Emma is my job,” Amy protested.
“And what about those other women he’s dated?” Verna asked. “I seem to recall you telling me that everything was fine until they started making demands.”
“Yes, but that was different.”
“How?” Verna pressed. “Has he mentioned love?”
Amy rubbed the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefingers, feeling a headache coming on. “It’s just different.”
Verna leaned forward and took Amy’s hands in hers. This time there was only kindness and caring in her gaze. “Forget the fantasy. Make a life for yourself. Find someone who truly cares about you…and what you want. Before it’s too late.”
Amy drove home from Verna’s, feeling irritable and out of sorts. While she told herself that her aunt didn’t know what she was talking about, Verna’s comments played on her deepest fears.
Was she crazy to think that Dan could really love her when she’d witnessed firsthand his love for Tess? Had her own desire blinded her to the reality of the situation?
The problem was she couldn’t deny that Steven and her aunt had an advantage she didn’t. They could step back and make a judgment based on fact, not emotion.
By the time Amy pulled into the garage, she’d convinced herself she’d been foolish to think Dan could ever care for her in a ’til-death-do-us-part kind of way. Hadn’t she seen how it had gone with Bree and Melinda? He was in between women and he found her attractive. Period. End of story.
She shut off the ignition, not sure whether to be sad or happy to see Dan’s Land Rover in the garage. She needed to end their short-lived relationship. If things went any further, it would be impossible for her to stay.
And she did want to stay. On this subject Verna was wrong. There was no reason she couldn’t continue to build her catering business while taking care of Emma and Dan. And regardless of what anyone else thought, Amy could not just walk out of Emma’s life. Amy knew what it was like to lose someone you loved. She knew what it was like to feel abandoned. She knew what it was like to feel alone in the world.
But Emma isn’t alone. Emma has Dan.
Amy shoved the thought aside. Maybe she was staying for herself but there was absolutely no reason she couldn’t have a full and complete life of her own and care for Emma. But first she had to set some limits on her relationship with Dan.
She walked into the house fully prepared to do just that only to discover he wasn’t home. A note on the kitchen told her Emma was spending the weekend with a friend but said nothing of Dan’s whereabouts. Amy only knew that with his car in the garage, he had to be close.
Tension knotted her shoulders and the headache that had hovered on the edge of her consciousness at her aunt’s house began to pound in her temples. Swallowing a couple of Tylenol, Amy headed upstairs to relax for a few minutes.
After locking the door to her suite of rooms, she stripped off her clothes and padded into the bathroom, the soothing jets of the whirlpool tub calling to her. She wasn’t sure how long she relaxed in the scented water, listening to music, but by the time she got out her headache was barely noticeable.
She considered getting dressed and doing a little housework but quickly discarded that notion. After all, this was her day off. So instead, Amy picked up a book to read. Almost randomly, she chose a popular romance and the magic of the book propelled her to her bed, where she spent the next hour propped up against her pillows reading.
She was halfway through the book when the ringing phone jarred her from the pages. After waiting several rings to see if Dan was back and would pick up, Amy grabbed the receiver. “Majors’ residence. This is Amy.”
“Amy, this is Philippe from Chez Gladines.” The confident masculine voice held the faintest hint of a French accent. “How are you this evening?”
“I’m fine.” Amy managed to get out the words without stammering. Other than her initial job interview, she hadn’t had a lot of contact with Philippe.
“Your pastries are très magnifique,” Philippe said. “Very popular with the customers.”
Amy relaxed her death grip on the phone. “You called to—”
“I called to offer you a full-time job,” Philippe said. “I’d like you to take over all the desserts and pastries at the restaurant.”
“But I still have two months left of my trial period,” Amy said.
“You have already proven yourself.” Philippe’s decisive tone brought home the reality of the offer. “Come in on Monday and we’ll discuss salary and benefits. If you’re interested, that is.”
“I am interested.” Amy’s head spun. Being a full-time chef at a place like Chez Gladines had been a piein-the-sky dream. Now the position was being handed to her on a silver platter. The only problem was this job wouldn’t work with her nanny position. “I do have another full-time job but I will most certainly consider your offer. I could be there around one on Monday?”
“I’ll see you then,” Philippe said. “And, Amy—”
“Yes, Philippe?”
“I really hope you take it.”
Amy clicked off the phone and sat there, stunned. Se
veral of the waiters had mentioned how well her desserts had been selling, but she’d never thought it would lead to a permanent position.
But what about Dan and Emma? Her heart twisted. Dan paid her to take care of Emma and the house. How could she possibly do both jobs at once? Lots of women do, a tiny voice in her head whispered. Tess had a demanding career and a family. But Tess, Amy reminded herself, was Dan’s wife, not an employee.
Amy pressed her fingers against suddenly throbbing temples. Dear God, why did her life have to be so complicated?
She gave herself a sudden shake. This was ridiculous. Tonight was her night off. She refused to ruin the evening by obsessing over the negative. She’d get a bottle of wine, have a couple of glasses to celebrate the offer and finish the book she’d been reading. She’d think about all the implications tomorrow.
Grabbing the chenille robe from the foot of the bed, Amy pulled it on over the boxer shorts and tank top and cinched the belt tight around her. She dropped the book into the pocket. After sliding her feet in a pair of tiger-striped mules, she headed down the stairs.
By the time she reached the main floor, the throbbing at her temples had reached bongo drum proportions. She stopped in the kitchen and found some Advil in the bottom of her purse. Swallowing a couple, she glanced at the clock. She’d give the pills a half hour. If two didn’t help, she’d up the dosage to prescription strength.
She pulled a bottle of wine from the rack, hoping a little Merlot might be just what the doctor ordered. By the time she’d poured herself a glass, the long flight of stairs to her room held little appeal. She decided to stay on the main level and relax in the parlor.
The renovated parlor had terrific ambiance not to mention a chaise lounge and a fireplace. Though the robe Amy had on was thick and fluffy, the air in the house held a definite chill. The thought of basking in the warmth of a gas log suddenly seemed irresistible.
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