Diana Palmer - Undaunted

“Pull the other one,” he invited.

She grinned. “Okay. In my spare time, I make custom harnesses for frogs. So you can walk them.”

He let out a breath, and grinned. “What do you do?” he persisted.

She shrugged. “I’m a copy typist for a law firm. Or I was.”

“Why?”

“I was made redundant. Laid off sounds better, though.” She glanced at him. “It’s getting dark. Should you be out here by yourself when you can’t see? The lake is very deep.”

“Should you be out by yourself when you’re lost?” he shot back.

“No, I shouldn’t,” she said. “But you shouldn’t, either.”

“Want to lead me to my door?” he invited.

“I might as well. At least you’re not lost,” she added.

He held out his hand.

Odd, how it felt to hold his hand, to feel the warm strength of that big, beautiful hand against her skin. She had to fight to keep her confusion from showing.

“Where do you live?” she asked, because she wasn’t supposed to know.

“Pine Cottage. There’s a sign.”

She let out a breath. “Oh, it’s there. I see it.”

He hesitated. She tugged, just gently.

“It’s this way,” she said softly, letting him catch up without making an issue of it. She walked very slowly, very carefully, so that he was on the path and didn’t walk into obstacles like rocks that could throw him off balance. “Three steps,” she said. “This is the first one.”

He went up them with no seeming difficulty and stopped. “You’re quite good at this.”

“I practice on little old ladies who can’t find their glasses,” she returned, tongue in cheek.

He smiled. It wasn’t a cold, formal or social smile, either. And he hadn’t let go of her hand.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“The Energizer Bunny?” she suggested.

“Try again.”

“I’m Emma,” she said, having fought the impulse not to lie to him. But there had to be a zillion women named Emma. He wouldn’t connect her. He probably didn’t even know her name. He’d have no reason to want to know it. He’d connected her with the near-miss on the Jet Ski before Mamie’s party, when she’d been driving the boat, but that was just physical recognition. Mamie had said that he didn’t know Emma except as her assistant. He hadn’t asked for her name.

“Emma what?” he asked.

“Copeland,” she replied.

His lips pursed. “Think you could find your way back here?”

She hesitated. “I found it because I was lost.”

“I’m having Barnes drive you home,” he said surprisingly. “He can pick you up where he drops you off, yes?”

Her heart was racing. “Why would I want to be picked up?”

“Breakfast,” he said simply.

“Breakfast?”

“Eggs, bacon, pancakes...strong black coffee,” he added.

“My friend has Pop-Tarts.” She groaned.

He grinned. “Eggs, bacon, pancakes—”

“Don’t! You’re torturing me! What time?”

“Eight a.m.”

“Okay.”

“You don’t sleep late?”

“I go to bed at nine,” she said. “Eight a.m. is late to me.”

He chuckled. “Fair enough. I’ll see you soon, Emma.”

“Who are you?” she asked, because she couldn’t give herself away. Not yet.

“Connor.”

“Connor. It’s nice.”

“I’m not,” he cautioned, his silver eyes flashing at her.

“Pop-Tarts might not be so bad...” she began.

He grinned. “I’ll try to be nice. Just for breakfast.”

“Okay.”

“Barnes!” he called.

A short, older man came in, smiling. “Yes, sir?”

“Take Emma back to her roommate,” he said, indicating Emma. “And make sure you remember where you drop her, so you can pick her up in the morning and bring her back for breakfast.”

“Yes, sir. Are you ready to go, Miss Emma?” he asked in his slow, sweet Georgia drawl.

“I am.”

“Good night, Emma,” Connor said with a smile.

“Good night.”

* * *

She had Barnes drop her off at the Frenchwoman’s house. She waved him off and then asked Jeanne Marie if it was all right that she pretended to live there. She couldn’t explain, she added, but she promised it was nothing illegal or immoral.

Jeanne laughed and said of course it was all right. When Emma told her about the next morning’s appointment, Jeanne said that was fine, as well. She was curious. Emma just blushed, and Jeanne asked no more questions.

* * *

All night, Emma agonized about going to breakfast at Connor’s. It seemed like a sound idea, to get to know him, just a little, and then confess what she’d done. If he knew her, he might not jump to conclusions that she’d hit him on purpose.

But it was risky, just the same. She couldn’t go back to her father. She couldn’t go to her friends in Jacobsville, either, without putting them in the line of fire. She knew they wouldn’t mind, but they’d already done enough for her.

At eight the next morning, she got into the expensive sedan with Barnes at the wheel and let him take her to Pine Cottage.

“Eggs, bacon, pancakes,” she enthused as she walked into the dining room and took a long sniff. “What a delicious smell!”

Connor was sitting there at the head of the table, his broad face smiling, his head cocked slightly to one side. He wore a green polo shirt with tan slacks and deck shoes. He looked expensive and so sexy that he made Emma’s toes curl.

But those thoughts were destructive. He was just a man she’d met on the lake. That was all he could ever be.

“It tastes as good as it smells,” he assured her. “Edward has cooked for me for over a decade, but he didn’t want to live on a lake in Georgia. So I left him at my house on the Riviera years ago and hired Marie,” he indicated an older woman with silver hair and a bright smile, “who has a way with herbs and spices.”

Emma started to pull out a chair for herself when Barnes came out of nowhere to do it for her. “Miss,” he said politely, bowing.

“Thanks,” she replied shyly.

“Barnes practically came with the property.” Connor chuckled. “His mother kept house for my father, on his rare visits here.” His face tautened, as if the memory wasn’t a pleasant one.

“It’s true,” Barnes said, smiling. His eyes twinkled. “He’s a terrible boss,” he added suddenly. “You should see him when he loses his temper.”

“Shut up while you still have a job,” Connor muttered, but his eyes were twinkling, too. He waved a hand. “Go build something.”

Barnes winked at Emma and left, grinning.

Connor chuckled. “He weaves baskets as a hobby. He picks up vines out of the woods and twists them into all sorts of shapes. There’s one of his on a side table. Over there, I think.” He indicated an elegant-looking basket on a side table.

“It’s really beautiful,” she said, surprised. Her knowledge of baskets was scanty, but that one looked professional.

“He could make a living with them if he wanted to,” he said. “He has his own website. He sells to designers all across the country.” He shook his head. “When he makes his first million, I’ll have to have a stranger drive me everywhere.” He raised his voice. “I’ll probably be killed in a horrible wreck!”

“I will never make millions!” Barnes called back. “And if I do, I’ll still drive you!”

“Okay,” Connor called back. His sightless eyes were twinkling. Barnes threw up a hand and went out the back door.

“He drove me mad at first. But I tend to get moody. I don’t like strangers in my house, as a rule.”

She fingered her empty coffee cup and remained quiet.

“I didn’t mean you, if that’s what the silence is about,” he mused.