“Your wife really should try it,” the salesperson said quickly. “Sit and rock your baby for a few moments.”
“I’m not his—”
“Excellent idea. Honey, go ahead and try it out.”
Emma’s mouth closed. Kyle was obviously on a roll. She sat in the rocking chair.
The salesperson beamed approvingly and excused herself to begin the paperwork for the order.
“You want to hold Chandler?” Kyle asked.
“He’s sleeping.” Emma waited until the saleswoman was out of earshot. “Kyle, this is ridiculous,” she hissed. “What are you going to do with all this stuff when Chandler and I leave?”
“Send it with you.”
Her eyebrows rose. “And just where would I put it all? You’ve seen my apartment.”
“Get a bigger place. I’ll set you up in Eastridge.”
“I don’t want a bigger place in Eastridge. I like living behind Penny. She’s a wonderful landlady and a good friend.”
He wasn’t even paying attention! Emma pushed awkwardly out of the chair and walked right in front of him, propping her hands on her hips. “Now listen to me, Kyle Montgomery. I agreed to—”
“Shh.”
Her lips parted. “I beg—”
“The crib’s just fine, honey,” he said suddenly, his voice several notches louder than usual. “It’ll be pretty as a picture in the nursery. But not as pretty as you.” His gaze focused on her and he cupped her cheek with his warm palm. “Smile,” he murmured in an undertone.
She smiled blindly. Then caught her breath when he suddenly lowered his head and covered her mouth with his.
She reeled.
Honest to goodness reeled. She had to grab his arms to keep from falling backward onto her foolish foolish head. To keep from running.
He pulled back, his eyes searching. His lips hovered over hers; she could taste his lips, feel his breath. And she wanted it. Wanted him. Wanted all of him.
“Kyle, darling. I thought that was you.”
Emma scrambled for a coherent thought when Kyle closed his arm around her shoulder and held her close to his side. She couldn’t help but lean into him. And she was grateful for his support, because if it had been up to her unsteady legs, she’d have embarrassed herself.
While she was a noodle, Kyle, however, was as tense as a post. She wondered about it even as she wondered who the brittle woman was who’d called out to Kyle as she wended her way around bedroom suites and armoires toward them.
“Winter,” he said smoothly. “This is a surprise. Payton said you were in Vail for the summer.”
Winter Cummings, Emma realized. The woman whose advances had apparently started this whole charade. She focused a little more steadily on the chic woman.
Ignoring Emma completely, Winter walked right up to Kyle and tried to kiss him on the lips. But he turned his head slightly and Emma watched his expression turn dark for a moment before it cleared. He was once again smoothly urbane as he wiped the smear of red lipstick from his cheek.
“You haven’t met my wife, Winter.” Kyle’s arm tightened around her shoulders. “Honey, this is Payton Cummings’s daughter. Winter, this is my wife—” his tone dropped a notch, sounding slightly rough, definitely sexy and completely adoring “—Emma.”
Shivers danced down her spine in the most alarming way, but Emma smiled. “How nice to meet you. Kyle has spoken of you.”
Winter’s smile thinned. “And he’s rarely spoken of you. I’m surprised we haven’t met before now.”
Definitely tense, Emma decided. Kyle was very definitely tense. She looked at him, still feeling off balance by that brief kiss. By the fear that she’d truly wanted him to kiss her again. “I’ve been a bit busy lately,” she said in response to Winter’s catty comment as she drew the stroller in front of them with one hand.
Winter peered into the stroller, distaste clouding her sharp features. “A baby. Well, well.” She arched a perfectly penciled eyebrow. “Kyle, you secretive man, you. What’s its name?”
Emma’s jaw clenched.
“His name is Chandler,” Kyle answered.
“Chandler. Now isn’t that just…sweet.”
“Why, Winter, that’s so nice of you.” Emma let the comment flow in dulcet tones. “The name has such meaning to us, since it is Kyle’s father’s name. Of course we couldn’t possibly have named him anything else. I’m sure your mama and daddy felt the same when they named you.”
Kyle coughed.
“Oh, Kyle, sugar. I hope you’re not catching a cold.”
“I’m fine.” He looked at her, his eyes amused and seemingly indulgent.
What woman wouldn’t melt when an impossibly handsome man looked at her so? Emma dragged her attention away from his intense appeal and back to the other woman. “Winter, are you feeling all right? You look rather ill.”
“Actually I am a little tired. I guess I’ll have to select a new bedroom suite another day.” She fluffed her trendy short black hair. “I’ll be sure and tell Daddy that I ran into you and…the little woman.”
“You do that,” Kyle drawled.
Emma nearly jumped out of her skin when his fingers absently threaded through the ends of her hair. Winter noticed the intimate gesture, too. Which meant that it had been worthwhile.
Winter turned and walked away, her hips swaying.
“Thank you,” Kyle said after a moment.
“For what?” Now that Winter was gone, Emma had no reason to lean against his side the way she was. Yet she couldn’t seem to make herself move. “Acting like your wife?”
“Yes. You were great. I know Winter is a bi—”
“Bit,” Emma cut in quickly. “She is a bit…overwhelming.”
“A nice way of putting it.” He smiled, satisfied. “And I do thank you.”
Emma held her breath as his head lowered to hers. She could feel his breath on her temple, on her cheek. On her lips. Oh, goodness, kissing him was…is…
She swallowed hard and stepped back. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“What?”
“Winter isn’t watching us any longer. There’s no need to, uh, kiss.”
He tilted his head. “Yes. You’re right.”
“Right.” She ran her palms down the sides of her skirt. Cleared her throat. “Right.”
The salesperson returned then, all smiles at the plum order she’d received without having to do a lick of work to get it.
Emma didn’t even bother to protest when Kyle told the woman to add a nightstand and two lovely lamps. She was too busy reliving the moment when Kyle had brushed his lips over hers. Too busy pretending she didn’t want to experience it again, despite her protest.
And too busy ignoring the disturbing knowledge that Kyle had wanted to kiss her, too.
Chapter Six
They made several more stops before heading back to Buttonwood. Emma had to excuse herself occasionally to feed Chandler. She wasn’t sure why she felt so self-conscious about breastfeeding with Kyle present, but she did.
Under the circumstances it seemed too intimate. Too personal. So she’d found herself a comfortable spot in the ladies’ room of a department store where Kyle had decided they’d needlessly expand Chandler’s newborn wardrobe, as well as buy bedding and mobiles and stuffed animals for the nursery; in the ladies’ room of the surf-and-turf restaurant where they had lunch; and in the cushy back seat of the Land Rover while Kyle met with a man “about an airplane part.”
Emma hadn’t quite believed that last, but when they made the return drive to Buttonwood, an enormous greasy-looking thing in a cardboard box was stowed in the back of the vehicle.
Baxter met them at the door with a handful of messages for Kyle, promptly followed with a tsk-tsk for Emma. “Rest for you, miss,” he said promptly. “I’ll bring you a tray for supper.”
Emma glanced at Kyle. He was already focusing on the messages in his hand, walking away. She shifted Chandler. “Thank you, Baxter.
That would be very nice.”
“Shall I take the little one for a while?”
“I…Yes,” she agreed. “I fed him before we drove back, and he’s dry for now but—”
“I’ll bring him right up to you if he fusses.” Baxter delightedly took the baby and waved Emma toward the stairs.
She suddenly felt as if she’d run a marathon. She, whose exercise program before her pregnancy had included regular jogging, weights and cycling, had tuckered herself out completely with one day of shopping.
Baxter had disappeared with Chandler, and Kyle had gone, presumably, to return his calls. He certainly hadn’t been tuckered out from the day’s activities.
Of course, he hadn’t recently had a baby, either.
She looked up the seemingly mile-high flight of stairs and closed her hand over the banister. “One step at a time,” she told herself grimly.
From his vantage point in his office, Kyle watched Emma pull herself up the stairs. He didn’t often feel like a heel, but he did now. Several times that day he’d felt like a heel. When he’d kissed her, for one. Because he hadn’t wanted to stop. When he’d held her pressed against his side because he’d liked, really liked, the feel of one full breast pressed against his ribs.
And when he’d sat across the table from her over lunch and been glad for the cover of the white linen tablecloth as he’d watched her tuck enthusiastically into her meal. He couldn’t even remember what they’d eaten. Every time her soft lips had closed over the fork, every time she’d lifted her glass of milk and sipped, every time she’d dabbed the corner of her cloth napkin to her mouth, he’d felt a shaft of heat in his gut.
It was damned inconvenient.
So he’d focused on getting a million tasks done and ended up running the woman ragged.
Even now, even knowing his thoughts were on a road that should definitely be closed, he watched the sway of her hips as she climbed the steps and walked out of sight. He heard the door shut and tortured himself with the vision of her in that big bathtub with nothing but silky water and clinging bubbles covering her creamy skin.
“Sir.”
Kyle jerked around, glaring at Bax. The only time his old friend called him “sir” was when he was totally disgusted. Which he didn’t need just now. “What?”
Baxter wasn’t cowed. “I’ve prepared a dinner tray for Emma. Perhaps you’d like to take it up to her?”
“If you want to dote on Emma Valentine,” Kyle said evenly, “you go right ahead and do it. She deserves all the pampering you can give her. And since you’re preparing trays, you can bring one in here. I’ve got work to do.”
Baxter, in black suit and narrow tie and spit-shined wing tips, snorted. “Work. Demolition, you mean.”
Kyle returned to his desk. He sat down and flipped open a folder of correspondence he’d brought from the office. “I didn’t ask for your opinion, Baxter.”
Baxter followed him. “Kyle, I understand what you’re doing, but it’s not going to make you happy.”
Kyle scrawled his signature on the letters and deliberately capped his Mont Blanc pen when he finished. “I don’t recall asking for your understanding, either. Is that Chandler I hear?”
Baxter’s mouth snapped shut on whatever unsolicited comments he’d been prepared to voice. He turned on his heel and strode out of the room. Within minutes the soft baby cries had ceased.
Which probably meant that Bax had picked up the baby to take to his mama. Which brought thoughts of Emma front and center all over again.
Swearing ripely at himself, at Baxter, at Payton Cummings, Kyle pocketed his cell phone and strode out of his office. Baxter was on the landing, a tray in one hand and Chandler in the other arm. He pointedly ignored Kyle.
Kyle stomped out of the house, taking his frustration and his gnawing hunger for the woman who now lived under his roof.
He’d assured her that their association would be strictly platonic. She was a brand-new mother, for God’s sake. The last thing she needed was a workaholic like him changing the rules on her just because he’d developed a craving to bed her.
But when he climbed behind the wheel of his car, he just sat there, unable to push away the memory of the feel of Emma’s lips.
“Damn,” he muttered. He could go to the office. He should go to the office. Unfortunately, for the first time in Kyle’s memory, he didn’t want to. Bax would undoubtedly get a huge laugh out of it if he knew.
Kyle shoved the key into the ignition and drove down the winding road into Buttonwood. Then he ended up driving aimlessly around as the summer evening darkened.
Hunger eventually led him to Mom & Pop’s diner. It was brightly lit and welcoming, and judging by the number of people sitting in the booths, it was popular with locals.
Entering it was rather like stepping into a movie out of the fifties. An old-fashioned jukebox belted out tunes, and several customers were drinking malts through long bendable straws. He felt a pair of feminine eyes studying him as soon as he walked through the door and very deliberately headed for the end stool at the counter.
If he’d felt like being sociable, he’d have stayed home and lusted for his pretend wife.
He shoved his hand through his hair and reached for the laminated menu, even though he wasn’t particularly hungry. At least not for food.
Millie Johnson, the woman he’d met at Emma’s apartment, was working behind the counter, and she flipped over his coffee cup and filled it. “Nice to see you again. Be with you in a minute.”
Kyle nodded, but she had already moved off to deliver an order to one of the couples occupying a booth. He picked up the cup and drank.
Millie returned and leaned her hip against the counter. “What can I get for you tonight?”
He liked the woman. Even if he hadn’t known how she looked after Emma, he’d have liked her. The expression she bestowed on him was as open and honest as…well, as Emma’s. “I hear from Emma that you make a mean blueberry pie.”
“Emma’s favorite.” Millie nodded. “That it?”
“For now.”
She smiled easily and walked over to the display of pastries and pies. Then she took a few more orders, fussed over a very pregnant young woman who walked in the door, and returned in a minute with Kyle’s pie. She’d warmed it and topped it with an enormous scoop of vanilla ice cream, which was slowly melting atop the fragrant pie. “Let me know how you like it,” she said. Then she topped up his coffee and set off again.
Kyle watched her. She was constantly in motion. The only time she slowed was when she stopped by the pregnant woman and took her order. “Rachel,” he heard her say, “you need protein, not a hot fudge sundae. I made fresh chicken potpies today. After that you can have dessert.”
The woman, who reminded Kyle a little of Emma because of the brunette hair, laughed, not at all put out by Millie’s fussing. “How about I eat the chicken potpie after the sundae?”
The empty stool beside him was suddenly filled with a female who leaned toward him. Very friendly. Kyle ignored her and tucked into his pie. It fairly dissolved on his tongue.
“You don’t remember me, do you, Kyle?” The woman beside him pouted lightly. She leaned forward again, bringing a whiff of too-strong perfume. “I’m Jessica. Jessica Wilson. I work in Dennis Reid’s office. How are you settling into town?”
“Fine.” He picked up his coffee cup.
She wasn’t deterred. “I know Buttonwood is small, but the streets don’t quite roll up at nine. If you’re interested in discovering—”
“I’m…involved with someone,” he interrupted.
Her eyebrows rose slightly. “Only involved?” She made a production of looking at his hands. “I don’t see a wedding ring.”
Wedding rings. Damn. Something so obvious, yet he hadn’t even thought of it. It wasn’t like him. “Nice meeting you, Jessica,” he said absently, looking around the woman to catch Millie’s attention. He pushed off the stool and went over to the cash register. �
�Could you pack up a slice of that pie to go?”
Millie nodded. “You bet. Want a little for later?”
“I thought I’d take a piece home to Emma.”
Millie went still for a moment. “You’re the friend,” she murmured. “The one she’s staying with….”
“Excuse me?”
She smiled broadly. “Hang on a second and I’ll give you the whole pie.”
“That’s not nec—” But she was already in action and Kyle closed his mouth.
“You can’t stop Millie when she’s got an idea in her head.”
He realized the pregnant woman, Rachel, was speaking to him. “So I see. You’re from the clinic, right?”
She nodded. “Rachel Arquette. And you’re Kyle Montgomery. The one responsible for the airlift system we’re going to have. Dr. Reid mentioned it to me. It’s very generous of you.”
Kyle shrugged. “You’re a nurse?”
“Guilty as charged. I heard you mention Emma. Valentine?”
“Yes.”
Millie returned just then carrying a plain white box.
“Tell her I said hello. The children in peds are looking forward to her coming back again to play piano for them. She and the baby are doing well?”
Aside from being worn-out because of his insensitivity? “They’re fine. My housekeeper is doting on them both.”
Rachel grinned. “Sounds lovely.”
“While you’re delivering messages,” Millie inserted, “you can tell her to call me. Tomorrow morning. First thing.”
“Sure.” He pulled out his wallet, but Millie looked at him as if he’d insulted her.
“You’re Emma’s friend,” she said firmly.
“I don’t doubt that Emma has lots of friends,” he murmured. “And you wouldn’t still be in business if you gave away food to all of them.”
Millie pushed the pie box into his hands, a smile playing on her lips. “You just deliver the message to phone me, and we’ll call it even.”
Rachel shook her head, smiling as Millie returned to the kitchen. “Better do as she says.”
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