“I’ll figure out some plausible explanation. Tell them that you decided our brief marriage was a mistake when you found yourself married to a workaholic who put his company ahead of his family. Considering my life, it would be fairly close to the truth.”
She stared at him. “You’d really turn around.”
“Yes.” He grimaced. “I don’t want to, but I would. It’s up to you, Emma. If this really is something you can’t bring yourself to do, say the word. We’ll turn around for Buttonwood right now.”
Her chest felt tight. She had agreed to his proposition because of the financial benefit. And now she was being offered an out. She could stop it all with one simple statement. She and Chandler would go back to her cozy apartment over Penny’s garage. She’d go back to work at Mom & Pop’s, and while she worked, Chandler would be safely tucked in a playpen in the back office. The gossip would be ripe around Buttonwood, but it would eventually die. It always did.
One statement. A string of words that would return her and Chandler to their normal life, as if the past few weeks had never happened. As if Kyle had never been in her hospital room that first morning.
She looked down at her hands, frowning at the grape she’d squished between her fingers. Kyle slipped one of the linen napkins free from the tray and calmly wiped her fingers clean.
Except her life wasn’t the same. Because she’d met Kyle Montgomery and realized she was still capable of being moved by a man, despite what Jeremy had done last summer. Not just any man, either. This man.
For that alone she knew she wouldn’t back out. “No,” she said softly. “We needn’t turn around.”
He set aside the napkin. Wrapped his hands around hers and lifted them to kiss her fingertips. “Thank you.”
Jennifer stepped up to them, her expression indulgent. “Excuse me, sir. Mark says we’re on the final leg.”
Kyle rose. His gaze lingered on Emma. “It’ll all work out, Emma. I promise you that. I don’t make promises anymore I can’t keep.”
She nodded. He’d meant to be reassuring, she was sure. Yet she couldn’t help wondering when, in his lifetime, Kyle had ever made promises he hadn’t been able to keep.
The landing unnerved Emma only half as much as the takeoff. But it seemed that the moment the wheels of the sleek jet touched ground, every single person went into high gear. Before she knew it Kyle was holding Chandler, waiting while she climbed into the back of a long long, black limousine.
Then he handed the baby to her before climbing in himself. He watched her for a moment, a faint smile playing about his lips. “You haven’t ridden in a limo before?”
Emma closed her slack mouth and quickly fastened Chandler into the safety seat that was waiting inside the vehicle. But when she sat back in her seat, she realized that, for all the limo’s spaciousness, Kyle still seemed a little too close for easy breath. “My drooling gave me away, I suppose.”
His eyes crinkled. “It was the ‘good gravy’ you murmured when the driver pulled up at the plane that gave you away, I’m afraid.”
Emma felt her cheeks heat. She crossed her ankles, determined not to embarrass herself any more than necessary. But she couldn’t keep her eyes from roving over the luxurious interior, from the small gleaming wood bar, to the black screen of a small television, to the electronic gadgetry that controlled who knew what. “I suppose traveling this way must be very mundane for you.”
He lifted one eyebrow. “I think I sense an insult in there somewhere.” Yet he didn’t seem the least bit offended. “Using the limo is often expedient. I can work rather than waste valuable time driving.”
Emma automatically glanced at the briefcase by his feet. She’d come to realize over the past several weeks that he was rarely without it.
“In truth, I prefer to drive when I can,” he finished.
“But then only if you can’t fly,” she said.
“You got it.”
His sudden grin caught her unprepared. She was faintly aware of soft music coming from the sound system. Could barely discern the motion of the car as it built speed, leaving the airport behind. Kyle’s teeth weren’t quite perfect, she realized dimly. He had a minuscule chip in a front lower tooth. “You don’t have caps,” she said stupidly.
His eyebrows drew together. “Caps?”
She pressed her hands to her cheeks, mortified. “Never mind.” She longed to open a window, to feel the rush of air on her hot cheeks. But she wasn’t even sure this thing they were riding in had windows that opened.
Kyle chuckled. “You make me laugh, Emma.”
She blew out a noisy breath. “Sure. Rub it in.”
His smile took on a devilish cast. “Be careful, sweetness. I might think that was an invitation.”
She blinked. Then turned to face front, her whole body flushing. “And wouldn’t you have a heart attack,” the leading words came out without volition, “if it was.”
Kyle managed to keep his smile in place. “I think we both know the fallacy of that, sweetness.”
He saw her swallow hard. And he found himself wishing that no man had ever tasted that long elegant neck. His fingers slowly curled into a fist on his thigh. He’d had his secretary, Amelia, arrange the limo because he’d thought Emma would get a kick out of it. And because he could use the time to take care of some of the work he’d brought along.
He hadn’t expected to sit beside Emma and think about the heavily tinted windows that afforded them tempting privacy. Or the depth of the leather seats that would accommodate them both if he should happen to pull her over to him and—
“Where’s the photography studio where we’re having the pictures taken?”
He shifted in the seat, reaching over to adjust the air-conditioning. “We’re not going to a studio,” he said. “Arrangements have been made for us at the Crest.”
He was aware of the surprised look she gave him. Extraordinarily aware of the way she turned toward him, young and vibrant and so open with her emotions it was almost painful.
“The Crest is a five-star hotel.”
“Gotta sleep somewhere,” he said dismissively.
Her big brown eyes widened even more.
“We’ll have a two-bedroom suite,” he said evenly. “A nanny will be there to help with Chandler while we say cheese for the camera. And she won’t remove him from your eyesight unless you want her to. The photographer will be set up for us in the gardens.”
“Won’t someone see us? I mean, that was the point of going as far away as Denver to get this done, wasn’t it?”
“Partly. Mostly we came to Denver, though, because the photographer I wanted couldn’t make it down to Buttonwood with his schedule right now.” He decided he might as well tell her now, because she was going to find out soon enough. “The photographer is one of my brothers.”
She smiled, her eyes sparkling with pleasure that she would probably try to hide if she knew it was there. “How nice. Why didn’t you tell me? Which brother?”
He wished he could be as certain as she that it would be nice. But at least he could be assured that news of this particular wedding shoot wouldn’t make the society page. “Actually, I haven’t told you about him. His name is Jake. He can be difficult,” Kyle felt compelled to warn.
“Is he a lot younger than you?”
“A few years.” He saw the consternation in her eyes. “Three years,” he provided. “He’s thirty-six. So now you know the dirty truth. I’m looking at forty this year.”
“The sight doesn’t look too bad to me.”
And when she looked at him from beneath her silky lashes the way she was doing now, he felt as randy as a seventeen-year-old gazing at the woman of his fantasies. He shook his head, smiling wryly, and swung his gaze to the window. The limo was just pulling up the tree-lined drive that led to the entrance of the exclusive resort. He swallowed the unease that rose in him.
He wasn’t used to being so distracted by anyone or anything. Yet when he was with Emma, he
was finding it increasingly difficult to remember the reason she was in his life in the first place. And finding it difficult to concentrate on the goals that had been driving him for longer than he could remember.
The car halted smoothly in front of the entrance. The chauffeur got out and opened the door for them, his expression bland while Emma climbed from the vehicle, holding Chandler against her shoulder. The long hem of her skirt dragged behind her on the carpet of the limo and Kyle felt anything but bland as one curvy calf was exposed.
He knew he had a bad case when he actually held his breath to see if Emma’s skirt climbed an inch or two higher to expose the rounded curve of knee, sleek and smooth in her nylons with the pearly shine. He swallowed an oath and focused on the concierge who greeted them.
Kyle listened to the man with half an ear as he snagged the diaper bag from the bellman before it could be taken away with their other few pieces. Emma was doing her level best, he could tell, not to gawk. He found her wide-eyed fascination as they were escorted through the grand old lobby far more charming than the concierge’s obsequious commentary about the hotel’s amenities.
They’d reached their suite on the top floor when Kyle had finally had enough. He took the room key from the concierge and eyed him silently. Fortunately the man was quick on the uptake and excused himself without delay.
Beside her Kyle unlocked the door and pushed it open. Yet Emma couldn’t quite make her feet take that step across the threshold. She pressed her lips to Chandler’s head, nervously patting his back.
Then let out a gasp when Kyle swung her up into her arms, Chandler and all. “Kyle, what on earth—”
“I’m carrying you over the threshold.” And suited action to his words.
But rather than setting her on her feet inside the suite, he carried her through the entry, which smelled of the enormous bouquet of fresh summer flowers, and into the living area of the suite. And when she saw the beautiful grand piano standing in front of the sparkling bay window, she couldn’t help sighing with delight.
“I thought you’d like it,” he murmured, and carried her right over to the magnificent instrument before letting her feet find the floor. He eased Chandler out of her arms, and Emma drew her fingers along the spotless black finish.
Then she turned around only to find Kyle looking down at Chandler with an expression she couldn’t quite define. Yearning, maybe.
She wanted to sit at the piano and open the lid and just let her fingers rest on the keys. She wanted to watch Kyle hold her son just the way he was doing. Capably. With a hint of awe shaking his confident green gaze.
What she needed to do, however, was use the bathroom. So she excused herself, going into the bedroom that Kyle pointed toward, distracting herself for a moment with the sight of the enormous king-size bed. She shook her head at the thoughts the bed inspired. “No way, Emma.”
When she reentered the living area, a uniformed maid was rolling a plastic-sheeted rack into the room, and another rosy-cheeked woman was cuddling Chandler.
Once the rolling cart was situated in the center of the room, the maid departed. Emma looked from the cart, which was nearly as tall as Kyle, to the strange person holding Chandler.
“Honey, this is Mrs. Schneider. She comes highly recommended by my sister, Sabrina.”
Emma felt herself relax a little. Surely Kyle’s sister’s judgment was sound when it came to entrusting one’s child to someone else.
“He’s a beautiful boy,” Mrs. Schneider said comfortably. “But a wet one, I’m afraid. So I’ll just get that taken care of.”
“He’ll be fine,” Kyle said for Emma’s ears alone when the older woman took the diaper bag and went into the bedroom Emma and Chandler would use. “You need to look through the gowns and see if there’s anything you like. Because if there isn’t, it’ll take an hour or so for the bridal shop to send over another selection. I guessed about the size, so if they’re wrong, you can blame me.”
Emma’s mouth ran dry as his words penetrated. She crossed to the cart and pulled away the thick black plastic to reveal a sturdy metal garment rack loaded with wedding gowns. “Oh…my…goodness.” They ran the gamut from slinky and sophisticated, to heavily beaded and elaborate, to puffy and ruffled. Her hands trembled as she nudged the hangers, and she quickly dropped her hands before Kyle could notice. “Well. This is unexpected.”
“They’re wedding photos, honey. What did you expect?”
She shook her head, thinking of the hours she’d spent dithering over what to wear. She knew she looked presentable. But these gowns—elaborate, expensive, impossibly beautiful—made her feel as if she was wearing sackcloth.
“You look fine just the way you are. If you prefer to wear your own clothes, say so. I’ll wear a suit, instead of my tux. It’ll work.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t read my mind.”
He pushed his hand into his pocket. “Emma, I’m only trying to get this done without—” He broke off, looking down for a moment. “Without reminding you of the jerk,” he finished flatly.
It took a moment. A long telling moment, which she’d have to examine later when her thought processes weren’t muddled by Kyle’s nearness. He was talking about Jeremy. He’d been thinking about the man even though Emma hadn’t given him a thought at all.
It was positively liberating.
She turned to the array of gowns. There was really only one that truly tempted her. She pushed the gowns on either side of it away and pulled it from the rack, carefully easing the long skirt free from the others.
It had tiny cap sleeves, a simple scoop neck and a triple row of narrow satin ribbon circling the waist. But the skirt was like a bell-shaped cloud. She loved it on sight.
It would probably be too tight. Too long. Too something. But it was the only one she wanted to try.
She draped it carefully over her arm and turned to face Kyle. “You really brought a tux?”
He nodded once.
“Well, then, sugar, I guess you’d better go get yourself all prettied up. Because it’s bad luck to see the bride in her gown before the camera flashes.”
Kyle’s smile was slow and sexy as sin.
And Emma’s heart rolled over.
Chapter Eleven
Two hours later Kyle was pacing in the elaborate gardens the Crest laid claim to when his brother finally deigned to saunter into sight. He had a leather bag that Kyle hoped contained photographic equipment hanging from one shoulder.
Jake caught sight of him and pushed his aviator glasses down his nose to look over the rims. “Now, don’t you look purty in your penguin suit.”
Kyle’s lips tightened. “You’re late.”
His brother shrugged. “Fire me.” He dumped his bag on the end of a linen-draped table complete with champagne glasses and wedding cake. “Oh, that’s right.” Jake’s mouth twisted. “You can’t fire me, ’cause I’m doing you a favor.”
The damnable thing was his brother was right. “Are you drunk?” Kyle demanded bluntly. Jake’s eyes hadn’t looked particularly bloodshot, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Not when it came to Jake.
“If I am,” his brother replied silkily, “I can still click the shutter. So where’s the bride? I’ll have to be sure to use filters so the dollar signs that’re probably in her eyes don’t show in these fool photos.”
Kyle’s hand curled into a fist. “You’ll be nice to Emma, Jake, or I swear I’ll…”
Jake shrugged out of his leather bomber jacket and dropped it carelessly on the grass. “Ground me? Cut off my allowance?” He flipped open the bag. “Don’t bother. I’d just sneak out my window at night and steal some car radios to fence for money.” He pulled a camera out of the bag, his smile humorless. “Oh, wait. That was you who did that stuff.”
Kyle hated the reminder, even though the words were essentially true. He reminded himself that he’d come a long way from that kid and spoke calmly. “Emma hasn’t done anything to deserve your disdain, Jake. So
I’d appreciate it if you’d—” He sensed movement behind him. He turned and there she stood, all in white. She was…
“Exquisite,” Jake said beside him.
Yes. Exquisite. More than pretty. More than striking. More than beautiful. And she took his breath away. There was nothing fancy about the dress she’d chosen. In fact, it was strikingly simple. And utterly feminine.
He barely noticed Mrs. Schneider bringing up the rear with Chandler in her arms. He had eyes only for the entrancing creature before him.
Jake stepped forward, his smile pure wolf, and Kyle felt his gut knot. Since the death of Jake’s wife five years earlier, his brother had been going out of his way to live hard, fast and furious. He was the last kind of man Emma should be exposed to.
He brushed smoothly past his brother and took Emma’s hands in his. “This is Jake,” he said curtly, giving his brother a hard look.
Emma wasn’t sure she could find her tongue, having swallowed it at first sight of Kyle dressed in an inky-black classic tux, tailored perfectly to his wide-shouldered narrow-hipped physique. The blinding white shirt he wore made his chestnut hair look darker and his eyes even more strikingly emerald.
But good manners reared their muddled head, and she looked away from Kyle to his brother. And blinked. She immediately realized that this brother was related to Kyle by blood rather than adoption. The similarity between them was marked. But while Kyle was the epitome of strength and sophistication, Jake seemed to embody a rough earthiness. She wondered if there were more siblings Kyle hadn’t mentioned.
Jake had pushed his sunglasses down his nose and was running his gaze over her from head to toe, a smile curling about his lips—lips that screamed sex and sin. She looked back at him, smiling faintly, too. Oh, he was a wild one, she was sure. And as far as she was concerned, harmless in comparison to his intense brother.
“Do I get to kiss the bride?” he asked in a husky low tone.
She tilted her head, hoping the bright sunlight didn’t wilt the curls she’d coaxed into her hair before they were done with the picture-taking. “Why, of course you do.” She felt Kyle stiffen beside her as she pulled her hands from his and lifted her full skirt to cross to Jake. She reached up, took his head between her hands and tugged it down to hers, then chastely tilted her cheek to him and stifled a laugh when she heard his muttered oath. But Jake kissed her cheek lightly and when Emma slid a look into his green eyes, she saw laughter there.
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