A Baby for Mommy

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  And stared, stunned, at what they saw.

  EMILY WONDERED if it was all too much. The linen tablecloth and cloth napkins were nothing special—she’d borrowed them from her store of them at home. The mix of daisies and mums in the vase had come from the farmers’ market.

  As for the meal itself, she’d decided to go with buttermilk-brined fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob and peach cobbler. Comfort foods in the extreme.

  She figured, since the kids had welcomed the spaghetti carbonara she’d been able to throw together the night before, they were bound to like this.

  She was wrong.

  Maybe not wrong, exactly, she decided as the meal wore on with none of the enthusiastic eating of the trial run. But definitely misguided.

  Dan, of course, consumed his meal with gusto. So did Walt. Emily was hungry, so she ate, too.

  Kayla merely picked at her food, and Emily was pretty sure that Ava didn’t actually taste anything. Tommy stripped the breading from the chicken, ate the meat, drank his water, and that was it.

  Dan began to get irritated.

  He regarded his children with the stern exasperation Emily was beginning to know so well. “What’s the problem?” he asked, his tone as impatient as his manner.

  Kayla shrugged. “I think I ate too much hot dogs and birthday cake at the skating rink,” she said.

  That excuse Dan appeared to buy.

  He looked at Ava. “I had two mocha lattes while I was studying. So I’m just not hungry!”

  Caffeine did cut the appetite, Emily knew.

  Tommy shrugged. “I haven’t completely cooled down from running. If I eat too much now, I’m likely to do what, um, Emily did this morning.”

  All eyes turned back to Emily. “Are you sick?” Kayla asked.

  Walt, too, lifted a brow, waiting.

  Dan hadn’t told them, Emily realized. He seemed to not want to reveal it, either. Too bad. If the proverbial mud were to hit the fan, Emily wanted to know it now, before she invested any more in this temporary job.

  “I’m pregnant—that was morning sickness,” she blurted out.

  HIS UNCLE GAVE DAN A LOOK that spoke volumes. Walt could clearly tell from Dan’s bland reaction that he was the only one in the room who wasn’t surprised by Emily’s announcement.

  Kayla spoke first. “Pregnant means having a baby, right?”

  Dan nodded. “Right. Emily is going to have a baby approximately five months from now. And sometimes, when women are pregnant, they have tummy trouble. She had tummy trouble this morning, but that’s okay—it’s all part of expecting a baby.” And, Dan’s glance to his children conveyed firmly, I have no problem with it.

  Nor did they.

  In fact, the news didn’t seem to faze them, either way.

  “Can I be excused?” Ava said. “I really want to study some more.”

  “I don’t feel so good.” Kayla held her tummy. “Maybe I should go lie down on my bed.”

  “The team’s going to a movie tonight,” Tommy said. “I need to get ready.”

  Looking relieved her announcement had caused so little upset, Emily stood. “I’ll clean up.”

  “Actually,” Dan said, “I’ll do it.”

  Emily’s expression turned obstinate again. “It’s my job.”

  He leaned forward and persisted, just as stubbornly. “Not tonight it’s not. You look tired. Why don’t you go on home? We’ll see you Monday evening.”

  Emily squared her shoulders. “Are you sure?”

  Dan nodded. “But you’re going to need a jacket. It’s really cold out there now.” The wind was whipping through the trees, rustling the branches.

  “I’ll be fine.” She moved past him in a drift of orange-blossom fragrance. “The van has a good heater.”

  It didn’t matter, Dan thought. “You’re pregnant,” he reminded her protectively. He paused at the hall closet and pulled out his wind-resistant, fleece-lined hoodie. It would keep her and her baby cozy-warm. “Take this.”

  For once, she didn’t argue. “Thank you. I’ll bring it back on Monday.”

  He held the sleeves while she slipped it on and zipped up.

  Trying not to think how feminine she looked in his jacket, despite it being way too big for her, Dan walked her to the front door.

  Emily seemed flustered by the attention. “You don’t have to keep doing this,” she said. “I’m an employee. Not a friend. Or a—”

  “Date?” Dan finished her sentence before he could stop himself.

  Emily flushed as they stepped outside. In the soft glow of the porch light, she looked even prettier. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

  On the contrary, Dan disagreed silently. It was exactly what she meant, because that was exactly how it felt—like a date. In his attempt to put her at ease, he was handling this all wrong. He swallowed, felt his throat close. “You’d rather I just stay here?”

  Emily dipped her head self-consciously. “Yes.”

  So, with effort, Dan shoved his hands in his pockets, turned and moved to the door.

  Emily got halfway down the sidewalk before she realized, “My keys! I forgot my purse.” She hurried back to the door.

  “I’ll get it,” Dan offered.

  He stepped inside, Emily right behind him. Walt came out of the kitchen, a cup of coffee in one hand, Emily’s leather carryall in the other. Dan recognized the look on the semiretired private investigator’s face and swore inwardly.

  “This what you’re missing?” Walt asked Emily politely.

  “Yes. Thank you. Good night, everyone! See you Monday!” Emily rushed out the door like the hounds of hell were on her heels.

  In the driveway, an engine started.

  Dan waited until the van drove away, then turned furiously back to Walt. “Tell me you didn’t go through that,” he muttered.

  The older man shrugged. “Well, I had to figure out who it belonged to before I could return it to its rightful owner!”

  Bull. “And?”

  “She’s licensed to drive in Texas. Carries two credit cards and a bottle of prenatal vitamins. Nothing incriminating in there.”

  The tension between Dan’s shoulder blades eased. “Satisfied now?”

  Walt ran a hand over his snowy-white buzz cut. “Not without references we can run down.”

  Dan scowled and immediately took the opposite tact. “Not going to happen,” he said.

  Walt looked annoyed. “Did you even ask?” he demanded in a low, disgruntled voice.

  “No. And I told you, I’m not going to,” Dan said, his temper rising. “I trust my gut on this.”

  Walt paused and shot Dan a telling look. “Make sure it’s your gut and not another part of your anatomy you’re following.”

  Dan thought about that as the evening wore on. Why hadn’t he asked for references? He never hired anyone for his architectural firm without a thorough vetting. Walt’s P.I. business was the one that did the work. But in this case, he hadn’t even thought about it and then when prompted, had resisted the idea. Why? Why did he want to just go on emotion where this woman was concerned? He hadn’t done that since Brenda. And they all knew how his refusal to deal with reality had turned out.

  Back then, he’d fallen in love with a fantasy of who Brenda was, rather than who she truly was. And three kids and a divorce later, he was still paying the price. Did he really want to go back down that road?

  Walt was right.

  He had to delve a little deeper, even if it felt uncomfortable. Even though Emily had only agreed to be there through Thanksgiving, he still needed to be sure she was who and what she seemed.

  “YOU REALLY DIDN’T NEED to do this,” Emily said when she met Dan at the Starbucks just down the street from her loft on Sunday evening. He looked incredibly handsome in a charcoal-gray suede jacket and slacks, his face ruddy with cold. “We could have settled up tomorrow night after I cook dinner. Besides, it’s my fault for leaving the house last night before giving you the recei
pt for the groceries.”

  Dan gestured amiably as the door to the coffee shop opened and another burst of wintry air swept in. His expression unexpectedly serious, he sat down opposite her, opened a leather portfolio and removed a checkbook. “It’s not the kind of thing I want left undone.”

  Emily sensed there was more than that. She had gotten the impression he wanted to talk to her without his family present. She handed over the receipts from the three stores where she had made her purchases, along with the invoice from Chef for Hire, then watched as he wrote out a check. He sat back, his tall form dwarfing the café-style chair, while she slid the check into her purse.

  He continued in a brisk, all-business tone. “I don’t know how you normally work, since we got together on the spur of the moment. At my firm, I have employees sign an employment contract. I assume you do the same for your catering gigs.”

  “Usually, yes, I do,” Emily said. But this time she hadn’t felt the need to put anything in writing that would have specified her pay and hours. Belatedly, she realized she should ask herself why.

  Dan put the checkbook back in the portfolio and pulled out several forms. “I also generally require an updated résumé, completed application, background check and personal references.”

  That, Emily knew, could be tricky. “Is it really necessary?” she cut in as smoothly as she could. “Sounds expensive and laborious. And really, considering that I’ll only be working for you a few weeks, quite unnecessary. Unless, of course, you’ve had second thoughts about having me in your home.”

  Dan was silent.

  Emily knew that what he was asking was routine business procedure. Yet for some reason she felt insulted on a personal level. After all, he had spent enough time with her to be able to tell she was an honorable person.

  He seemed to realize he had offended her. He flashed her a crooked smile meant to conciliate. “You’d almost think you had something to hide,” he teased.

  Actually, she did. “Ask me whatever you want,” Emily said, hoping to give him enough information that a detailed check into her work history would not be necessary.

  His eyes still holding hers, Dan leaned back in his chair. “What’s your background?”

  “I grew up in Fredericksburg, Texas. Only child. My parents ran a peach orchard. It was sold a few years after my dad died.” For many reasons, Emily added silently to herself, that still upset me. “College was out of the question at that point, so I started working in restaurants, liked it and went to culinary school, graduated and worked at three different top-tier restaurants in the Dallas-Fort Worth area until I was thirty. I got tired of the grind and long hours and branched out on my own, freelancing as a personal chef. I’ve done that for the last four years. And while being a solo operator has been very lucrative, it’s also very demanding.”

  She took a deep breath before continuing. “Now that I’m starting a family, I want a less hectic life, which is why I was trying to buy the orchard. I want to be able to stay home and take care of my child as much as possible, at least for the first four or five years. I thought I had found a way to do that.” She sighed. “Obviously, I haven’t—since my purchase of the orchard fell through—but I’ll come up with a new plan before December first.”

  “What happens then?” Their glances locked and they shared another moment of tingling awareness.

  Emily told herself her unprecedented reaction to Dan was really just another surge of pregnancy hormones. She forced herself to get a grip. “I have to vacate my loft. It’s already been rented to someone else.”

  “So one way or another…”

  “I’ll be going somewhere,” Emily finished, aware her voice sounded a little rusty, and her emotions felt all out of whack, too.

  Fortunately Dan had no more questions. Standing up, Emily handed him the jacket she had borrowed from him the evening before, slipped on her coat and gathered her things to leave.

  Dan stood, too. “You’re going to walk back to your building?”

  Emily told herself not to read anything into the concern in his eyes. “It’s just down the block.” She slipped out the door, Starbucks cup in one hand, keys in the other.

  Dan fell into step beside her. “I’d still feel better if I walked you as far as your lobby.”

  Ignoring the reassurance his strong male presence provided, she shrugged and turned her eyes to the awning that marked her destination. This could not lead anywhere, not if she was working for him. “Suit yourself.”

  They arrived at the front door of her building. Emily waved at the security man behind the desk in the lobby, visible through the double glass doors. He waved back.

  “So how do you want to manage the paperwork?” Dan drawled.

  Emily rocked back on her heels. “By fax. I can send you my standard agreement tonight.”

  Dan rocked back on his heels, too. He braced his hands on his hips, pushing the edges of his jacket back. “So you’re still on for tomorrow evening?” he presumed.

  Emily tore her gaze from his rock-solid chest and abs. “Absolutely. Unless we hit a snag in the paperwork, which I’m not anticipating.” It was only the thorough vetting of her résumé that would reveal something Emily would rather forget. But she had an idea how to keep that from becoming a problem she would really rather not deal with. Because what happened with the Washburns was not going to happen with Dan’s family. She was wiser now. Better able to keep that protective force field around her heart…

  “I’ll read and sign the contract right away,” he promised.

  Glad they had come to an agreement that was mutually beneficial, and as thoroughly professional as it should have been from the beginning, Emily nodded. “Thank you.”

  Another peaceful moment passed between them. Emily smiled and began to relax. Maybe this would work out, after all, she thought. And, of course, that was the moment the next unwelcome complication arose.

  Chapter Four

  Emily went pale as a dark-haired man, roughly their age, climbed out of a pickup truck parked in front of her building and strode toward them. In a white western shirt, jeans and black leather jacket, he appeared to be both sophisticated and affable.

  He touched the brim of his black Resistol hat and stopped just short of them. “Emily,” he said, smiling and looking her up and down. “It’s been a while.”

  Emily stood her ground and made no move to greet the interloper with anything even faintly akin to the same familiarity and warmth. Instinctively Dan slid a protective arm behind her.

  “Ten years,” Emily acknowledged, her voice taut. Turning slightly, her elbow brushing Dan’s ribs, she looked up at Dan and said, “Dan, I’d like you to meet Tex Ostrander.”

  Her ex-fiancé. The man who’d bought the orchard out from under her and thrown her life into chaos.

  “Tex, this is my, um, friend—” she stumbled slightly over the misnomer “—Dan Kingsland.”

  Aware Emily was using him to keep her ex at bay, Dan played along and extended a palm. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Same here,” Tex said.

  As the two men shook hands, Dan noted Tex had a firm, no-nonsense grip.

  “What are you doing here?” Emily demanded.

  “We need to talk about my purchase of the orchard,” Tex said. “And since you wouldn’t return my calls…”

  Emily frowned in warning. “I can’t imagine we have anything to say to each other.”

  Tex clearly differed. “Do you really want to discuss business out on the sidewalk?” Tex asked.

  A group of teens walked by, talking and laughing.

  Emily’s frown deepened. She looked at Dan, a question in her eyes. Getting the hint—she wanted and needed a neutral third party to possibly run interference for her—Dan wordlessly agreed to help her out. He stipulated mildly, “As long as it doesn’t take too long. Emily and I have plans for this evening.” Just not together.

  Incorrectly assuming Dan was Emily’s date and he was interrupting somet
hing, Tex shrugged. “I’m fine with that. I just want a chance to explain and make my pitch.”

  The three of them walked inside and took the elevator to Emily’s loft. The high-ceilinged, brick-walled abode had a bank of windows overlooking the Trinity River. The thousand-square-foot apartment was divided into four areas—work space, living room, kitchen and bedroom. The only space walled off was the bathroom at one end.

  She led them to the stylish sofa and a pair of chairs at one end of the room. She sat down on the sofa. Dan sat next to her.

  Tex took one of the sling-back chairs opposite them. “I’m here to offer you a job,” Tex said.

  Emily looked as if she could hardly believe Tex’s temerity. Nor could Dan, under the circumstances.

  Emily stared at Tex. “You really think I’d accept a job from you after what you just pulled?”

  Tex nodded. His expression earnest, he continued in a flat, practical tone, “We both know the only reason you wanted the orchard was to bring it back to its former glory. You don’t have the money or the agricultural background to make the sort of improvements required. But I do. And since my parents are retiring to Arizona and have recently sold their orchard to me, and the properties are side-by-side, it makes good business sense to merge the two and have one operation with twice the capacity, rather than two competing businesses.”

  As much as Dan was loath to admit it, Tex’s pitch made sense, from a business perspective, anyway. Personally, it was another matter indeed.

  Emily frowned, looking tempted despite her earlier refusal. “What are you offering me exactly?”

  “A full partnership if you’ll agree to defer most of your salary in exchange for equity, just as I am, until we get the new business up and running. Bottom line—I’m only going to be around part of the time. I need someone I trust to live on the property and run the orchards when I’m not there, and start an on-property restaurant-slash-retail-business that will feature fresh fruit, preserves, pastries, salsas and whatever else you can dream up to produce with our crops.”