Extra Innings and In His Wildest Dreams

by Debbi Rawlins

  “Right.”

  “I told you she was off-limits.”

  “Not that you have a say in my love life, but I understand Doc is different.” He was going straight to hell. No doubt about it.

  “Too evasive. Are you sleeping with her?”

  “No.” Not yet. “Not that it’s any of your business. Look, I’ve got to go.”

  “What about tonight?”

  “I told you I’m busy.” He glanced at the clock, took a sip of beer. Emma could be trying to call back already. “Give Mom my regrets.”

  “I wish you’d reconsider. It would mean a lot to her.”

  Guilt nudged him. “Tell her I’ll take her to dinner this weekend. There’s a new sushi bar that opened near Duke Medical Center.”

  “Yeah, she’ll love that.” Brenda made a gagging sound. “If you change your mind, dinner is at seven-thirty.” She paused. “Emma and I are getting there around seven.”

  “What?” Nick set down his beer. “Why is Emma going?”

  “Because she was invited?”

  His sister’s sarcasm annoyed him at the best of times. He exhaled slowly. “When did—” This was unbelievable. What kind of game was Emma playing? “You just talked to her and she said she’d go.”

  “Not more than five minutes ago. Why?”

  He cleared his throat. “She had some questions on yesterday’s session, and she was going to call later. I guess I misunderstood.”

  “Well, you guys could get that out of the way after dinner.”

  What the hell was going on? Had Emma reconsidered and she was too chicken to tell him? Why would she go to his mom’s for dinner? “Emma’s never gone to dinner there with you before, has she?”

  “I’ve asked her, but this time I’m not taking no for an answer. She’s either working too hard, or running back to Utah to console her whining mother, which puts her further behind and she ends up working twice as hard.”

  “Her mom’s ill?”

  “Sick in the head, if you ask me. Shit! Don’t tell Emma I said anything about her mother. Sore subject.”

  He wanted to know more, but he wouldn’t get the information from Brenda. One thing about her, she respected a person’s privacy and kept her mouth shut. He admired that, and normally wouldn’t be so curious. Hell, it was more than curiosity. He wanted to understand Emma, know what made her tick.

  He took another pull of beer, wondering what the devil Emma had been thinking when she’d accepted Brenda’s invitation. Maybe she’d been taken by surprise, or too incoherent as Brenda said.

  “Hey, did you fall asleep on me?”

  Nick sighed. Dammit, this wasn’t what he had planned for tonight. “What time did you say dinner is?”

  BRENDA HUNG UP THE PHONE, and stared idly out her apartment window at the leaves that had started to turn orange. This was the perfect idea. Being able to observe them over dinner was more like it. The other night at the reception had been a waste. She was never able to see them interact.

  She grinned. No, not a waste, really. The pot had obviously been stirred up some. They were both getting a little touchy when the other’s name was mentioned. Something was definitely going on.

  She leaned back and swung her feet onto her desk just like she’d asked Nick a dozen times not to do. No doubt they’d both be pissed at her when they found out she’d lied. Emma hadn’t agreed to go tonight until she found out Nick would be there. Which, of course, he hadn’t…yet.

  Brenda smiled. That’s okay. She could take whatever either of them dished out. It was all for a good cause.

  THE SOUTHERN PLANTATION–STYLE HOUSE was an awesome sight. Huge and pristine white with ivy crawling up two of the pillars at the far ends of the porch. The velvety green lawn stretched over several gentle slopes headed toward a greenbelt on the left. To the right was a large greenhouse. A staggering procession of vibrant scarlet mums lined the curved driveway Brenda navigated with a tad too much speed.

  Emma knew the Ryder family had money, but the neighborhood and the house were still a little overwhelming. Her family home outside of Provo was a modest three-bedroom tract home. Before that, until she was nine, they’d lived in a trailer park.

  “I hope we’ll eat outside by the pool since it’s not too cool yet,” Brenda said, ignoring the cluster of mums she nearly sideswiped as she pulled the car into the circular part of the drive directly in front of the house.

  They were running late, yet there were no other cars on the drive. Nick was supposed to be here. Which Emma still didn’t understand. Had he reconsidered having her over to his place and was too chicken to tell her? That didn’t sound like him. Maybe Brenda had caught him off guard like she had Emma, or maybe…

  “Are you going to get out or sit there daydreaming?” Brenda had already come around the hood of the car and opened the passenger door.

  Her sometimes caustic grin had never bothered Emma before, but it sure grated on her nerves now. As she got out, a sudden suspicion seeded, and she squinted at Brenda. Was this all a ploy to keep them apart? How many times had she warned Emma about Nick, had told her to not get involved with him?

  That was silly. She wouldn’t have known that Emma had made a fool of herself by practically inviting herself over to Nick’s place. The reminder of their conversation heated her face and took some spring out of her step, and she almost finished off the mums Brenda narrowly missed.

  “I think we’re having gumbo and shrimp étouffée. It won’t be too spicy so don’t worry.” Brenda continued chattering all the way to the front door, where she stopped to ring the bell, but then opened the door herself and went in. “Cookie’s from New Orleans and she’s the best cook Mom ever had, even though she is rather bossy.”

  “I heard that.” A woman appeared out of nowhere, short and painfully thin, the apron she wore nearly wrapped around her fragile waist twice.

  “Hi, Cookie.” Brenda gave the woman a hug and lifted her off the ground. “It smells good in here.”

  The woman swatted Brenda with the wooden spoon she carried. “I don’t know why y’all ring the bell and then let yourselves in. Why can’t you and that rascal brother of yours do one or the other? Instead of makin’ me walk all the way from the kitchen.” The gruff affection in her voice made Emma smile. “Where is that scoundrel, anyway? It’s been too long since he’s come home for some of Cookie’s cookin’.”

  “He’ll be along any minute,” Brenda said, and then turned to Emma. “Meet my friend Emma Snow.”

  Cookie ducked her head to see past Brenda, her eyes lighting with interest when they met Emma’s. “Well, I guess he will be right along, like a stallion to water.” She extended a bony, blue-veined hand. “Very nice to meet you, Emma Snow.”

  She had a firm grip for such a little thing who was probably pushing sixty, although it was hard to tell with that mop of unnatural black hair.

  “Same here. Now, I’m going to ask the same thing I’m sure everyone else does. Is Cookie your real name?”

  “Lord, yes, why would I inflict that upon myself?” The woman chuckled and waved them to follow her. “My mama was not the sharpest tool in the shed, but she had a sense of humor, bless her heart. I hope y’all are hungry.”

  Not the answer Emma had expected but she smiled at Cookie’s charming Southern accent. Even though North Carolina was considered the South, the medical center and universities in Chapel Hill and Durham drew an extensive hodgepodge of immigrants from other states and countries and a true Southerner was seldom heard.

  Brenda sidled up and whispered, “That’s how she chose her profession. Because of her name. Isn’t she a kick?”

  “No whisperin’ in this house, missy,” Cookie called without looking back. “Mind your manners.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Brenda grinned and whispered something else, but the doorbell chimes drowned it out.

  Cookie had just entered the kitchen but she made an about-face and hurried past them toward the door, which was already opening. “Yo
u see what I mean? That rascal.”

  Her fondness for Nick was plain, even before she rushed him with a bear hug and a good-natured scolding. He swept her up in his arms and twirled her around, mindless of the large bouquet of flowers he’d brought.

  He set her down and gave her a long serious look. “How come you’re gettin’ prettier and younger every day?” he asked, and she smacked his arm. “Now, darlin’, I don’t understand it. You explain it to me.”

  Emma was amazed at how Southern he sounded, but she wasn’t the least surprised at how she responded to him. Her skin had grown warm and her belly and nipples tight. Maybe coming tonight wasn’t such a good idea. Hugging herself, she moved back near the circular staircase, and out of view.

  “You’re a rascal and a scoundrel,” Cookie said, waving the wooden spoon. “Always have been, always will be.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He grinned and handed her the flowers.

  “You give them to your mama yourself when she comes down from gettin’ ready. Lord knows you neglect her enough.”

  He ducked his head and kissed Cookie’s cheek. “But these are for you, darlin’. Now, where’s that rotten sister of mine?” Brenda had disappeared into the kitchen but she came out licking her fingers.

  Cookie looked up from the flowers she was sniffing and glared. “Git out of my kitchen.”

  “The étouffée is primo,” Brenda said, making a circular sign with her thumb and forefinger.

  “Doggone it.” Cookie raised her wooden spoon and headed toward Brenda, who turned and scrambled in the other direction.

  The two women disappeared and Emma turned back toward Nick. He was looking straight at her, his dark eyes intense, unreadable. She stepped out from beneath the staircase feeling foolish. He’d probably seen her all along.

  “Hey,” she said lamely.

  He made a movement with his head, acknowledging her. “You just get here?”

  “Yeah.” She shrugged, hating the sudden awkwardness between them. “A few minutes ago.”

  “My mother hasn’t come down yet?”

  Emma shook her head. “I haven’t seen her.”

  “She likes making an entrance.” Slowly, he moved toward Emma. “I’d say she’ll be another ten minutes.”

  He got close, too close, and when Emma tried to back up, she realized she was up against the wall with no place to go. Her mouth went dry and her head got a little light.

  He stepped closer.

  Her stomach somersaulted. She was being silly. He wouldn’t do anything here.

  “I grew up in this house,” he said, his voice lowering as he got closer still. “I know every creak in the floorboard and the stairs. No one could sneak up on me.”

  “Oh.” She swallowed when he reached out and fingered a long renegade tendril of hair. She’d left it down but had stubbornly worn her glasses.

  “Come here.” He trailed his hand down her arm until their palms met, and then he circled his fingers around her wrist and gave her a small tug toward him.

  “Nick.” She cast a nervous glance around. They were definitely alone behind the staircase. From the kitchen, she could hear Brenda’s laughter, Cookie’s grumbling.

  She turned back to him and without warning he pressed her back against the wall, covering her mouth with his, and parting her lips with his tongue. She whimpered in protest, or maybe surrender. When she tried to draw her head back, the wall stopped her.

  He pressed harder until she felt his arousal, hot and heavy, through her khaki slacks and thin cotton sweater. Her breath caught and his tongue dived deeper. Helplessly she started to respond when a noise came from the top of the stairs.

  Nick was quick to pull away, but then he came back for a brief parting kiss before he put a respectable distance between them.

  “That’s got to be Mother.” He straightened Emma’s glasses and winked. “I smell her perfume.”

  She swatted his hand away and adjusted her glasses to her own liking. “Excuse me,” she said, trying to push past him and get out from under the stairs.

  He moved aside and with a sweep of his hand, motioned for her to pass. As soon as she stepped out into the foyer, Mrs. Ryder came around the curve of the stairs, her eyes widening, clearly startled by Emma’s sudden appearance.

  When Nick moved in to stand behind her, Mrs. Ryder pressed her lips together but couldn’t quite conceal her smile. Emma didn’t even try to keep her face from flaming. That would have been useless, but she sure would have a few choice words for Nick later.

  “So good of you to come, Emma,” Mrs. Ryder said, extending her hand as she left the stairs. Her fuchsia silk pantsuit set off her gorgeous, upswept blond hair. Even her perfectly manicured nails and lips were painted fuchsia—probably about the same color as Emma’s face. “Brenda has told me a great deal about you.”

  For a second, Emma had the foolish hope that Mrs. Ryder didn’t recognize her from the reception. But that might be asking too much. “Thanks for having me. It’ll be nice to have something for dinner that hasn’t already been frozen.”

  Mrs. Ryder shook her head. “The way you college kids eat…” She looked at Nick with a blank expression. “Well, Emma, who’s your friend?”

  Emma blinked. The woman was too young to be senile.

  He groaned. “Knock it off, Mom, you just saw me the other night.”

  Mrs. Ryder’s arched brow wrinkled. “No, you don’t look familiar at all. Of course I once had a son who looked like you but since he never comes around…”

  He kissed her cheek as she lifted her chin in defiance. “Very funny, but if you don’t knock it off, I’ll have to give your present to someone else.”

  Her gaze flew to Nick’s empty hands.

  He chuckled. “I thought that might interest you. It’s in the car.”

  “Hmm, so it must be bigger than a breadbox.” The older woman gave Emma a probing look. “Do you know what it is?”

  “Not a clue.” Emma smiled at the interchange between mother and son. Their fondness for each other was palpable and it made Emma envious and wistful.

  “You don’t get it until after you feed me.” Nick put an arm around his mother, and then shocked Emma by putting his other one around her. “Now, what say we go into the kitchen and bug Cookie for some hors d’oeuvres.”

  Emma relaxed fairly quickly under his comfortable, non-threatening touch. It was kind of nice, actually, to be included in this familiar sort of way, and since his mother had no reaction, Emma didn’t balk. She let him guide them through the formal dining room with the sparkling crystal display, gleaming hardwood floors and Persian rug to the kitchen.

  The room was enormous, full of bright sunlight, green plants, polished brass and heady aromas. The setup was a cook’s dream—state-of-the-art appliances, a large tiled island with an additional sink and enough cupboard space to house Emma’s entire apartment.

  Brenda looked up from the pot she was stirring, her mouth obviously full of something. She chewed quickly, swallowed. “Where have you guys been? I’ve practically eaten dinner single-handedly.”

  “You better not have, missy.” Carrying a bag of sugar, Cookie came through a door off to the side, apparently the pantry. “You kids must be eatin’ nothin’ but junk the way you come swooping in here like vultures.”

  “Not me,” Nick said, letting the women go and diving for a deviled egg off a silver tray.

  They all laughed.

  Cookie set down the sugar and swatted him with a dish towel. “Make yourself useful and get out that other tray of cut vegetables from the fridge.”

  Nick made a face. “Nah, we don’t need that.”

  “Git.” Cookie snapped the towel. “And make your guest something to drink.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He winked at Cookie and then turned and gave Emma a sultry look that made her knees weak.

  She didn’t know how he did it. The way he could laugh and joke one minute, and then shoot her a look that said he wanted to climb inside her until s
he screamed. It was both annoying and exciting, and terribly disconcerting in the presence of his family. Bad enough, on the way over, Brenda had given her yet another lecture on not getting involved with Nick.

  Without asking, he made Emma a mint julep, strong enough that she felt a slight buzz by the time they sat down to dinner in the patio by the pool. She liked it a lot that Cookie sat with them after she and Brenda served the food. The cook was treated as if she were family and it made Emma like the entire Ryder clan even more, if that were at all possible.

  If anyone noticed that Nick rather purposely sat beside her they didn’t comment. And if they had the slightest suspicion that he touched her thigh every chance he got, they didn’t react to that, either. But he was rather sly about it and if anything gave them away it would be her pink cheeks.

  The fact that he’d chosen tonight of all nights to accept his mother’s dinner invitation still disturbed Emma. At least it was obvious it hadn’t been an excuse to get away from her.

  “Tell me, Emma, what do you plan to do after you get your master’s?” Mrs. Ryder asked after carefully dabbing her mouth with the white linen napkin. She’d passed up Cookie’s pecan pie and sipped coffee while everyone else gorged on the incredibly sweet and wonderful treat.

  Emma dutifully swallowed before answering. “I have a job lined up at a clinic in Raleigh.”

  “That’s quite impressive to have that kind of security while you’re still studying. They obviously think very highly of you.”

  Emma winced. “They’ll think far more of my degree. Once I have it in hand, they’ll assimilate me into the staff.”

  “Ah, yes, Brenda said you’re working on your thesis.” She glanced at Nick. “And you’ve offered to help by being her test subject, I understand. I’m very proud of you, Nicky.”

  He shifted, looking uncomfortable. “I didn’t exactly volunteer. My dear sister twisted my arm.”

  Brenda laughed. “I did more than that. Anybody want this last piece of pecan pie?”

  Cookie grabbed the glass pie plate out from under Brenda’s reaching hand. “You’ve had enough, missy. I won’t be letting out any more of your clothes.”