Cathy Thacker - A Baby for Mummy

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 some where,” 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.

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 something, 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.”