Читать книгу Midnight Under the Mistletoe - Sara Orwig - Страница 9

Her heart thudded because his words changed their relationship. She realized her reply would set the standard. For a fleeting second, how tempted she was to flirt back, to give him a seductive reply that was on the tip of her tongue. For the moment, she wished he were someone else and not her boss.

Following the path of wisdom, practicality and caution, she smiled and chuckled, shaking her head and trying to diffuse the electrifying tension that had sprung between them. “I don’t think so,” she replied lightly. “We can’t. I’m here for a secretarial job, which sets definite limits. I’m not crossing that line. If that’s part of my work—then tell me now.”

“Definitely not part of the job,” he said, leaning back and studying her with a faint smile and amusement dancing in his blue eyes. “As rare for me as for you in an employer-employee situation. But we’re not going to be able to shut it off that easily. As a matter of fact, I think the chemistry is in spite of both of us, not because of either of us wanting it to happen. That’s a big difference and rather fascinating.”

“We’ll not pursue it,” she persisted. Rosie appeared with a tray that held four choices of desserts. “What would you like, Miss Hillman?” she asked.

“Please just call me Emma,” she said, looking at luscious desserts. She was no longer hungry, yet Rosie stood with a broad smile and Emma knew how her own mother liked for everyone to take some of her desserts, so she selected a small slice of chocolate cheesecake.

Zach took a monstrous concoction of vanilla ice cream and brownies topped with fudge sauce with a sprinkling of fresh raspberries.

“You must work out big-time to turn that into muscle,” she observed and the moment the words were spoken, she wished she could take them back because she had just tossed the conversation back to the personal. “This is so much food. What does Rosie do with leftovers? Save them for dinner?” Emma interjected, trying to get the conversation on a different note as rapidly as possible.

He flashed a slight smile as he shook his head. “I work out and my injured foot has thrown me off schedule. As for the leftovers—there are a lot of people on this ranch. She’ll pass them on after lunch and they’ll be gone by midafternoon. You think all those hungry cowboys won’t light into her cooking? They’ll devour it.”

She smiled, glad the moment had been diffused and they were back on a harmless topic. “This is delicious,” she said as she ate a bite. She looked up to meet his steady gaze that fluttered her insides.

“She’ll be glad to know you liked it. Rosie’s been cooking for us since I was a little kid.”

She smiled and they enjoyed their desserts, then she said, “Do you mind if I put a few family pictures on my desk?”

“Emma, within reason, put whatever you want on your desk or around your desk or in your room upstairs. I don’t care what you do unless you want to paint something or make a permanent change.”

“Of course not. Thanks. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think this time I will get back to work,” she said, folding her napkin and standing. When she picked up her plate, he touched her wrist lightly.

“Leave the dishes or you’ll get a Rosie lecture. She’s in charge here and she wants to do things herself and her way,” he said, releasing her wrist as he stood and walked around the table.

Smiling, she set her plate down. “I know how my mother and one of my sisters are. Sometimes they just want all of us out of the kitchen.”

“You’re so tied into your family. Are you going to be able to stay away from Dallas for the length of this job?”

“I gave that some serious thought, but this isn’t permanent and as far as I can see, this assignment is a great opportunity because it’s a hike in pay, even temporarily, and I’m saving money to finish my education. And I did ask for the weekends off to go home.”

“We both hope it works out. So far, so good. I’ll admit, I didn’t expect you to last the morning, because several before you didn’t. I’ve been pleasantly surprised.”

“Glad to hear I’m up to snuff. So far so good in working for you,” she replied with a smile.

One dark eyebrow arched quizzically as he looked down at her. “You expected an ogre. Aah—let me guess—rumors from your predecessors.”

Still smiling, she nodded. They entered the office and she left to return to the correspondence and filing. Within the hour she noticed he had stopped heaping work for her and she could see where she would catch up with all he had given her.

No matter how lost she got in the assignments, she couldn’t shake her awareness of him. Carrying papers to his desk, she often met his gaze while he talked on the phone. Each time it was the same as a physical contact with a sizzle.

Common sense warned this job would not be as simple and straightforward as she had envisioned. When he talked on the phone, his voice was usually low enough that she couldn’t hear much of what he was saying and she made no effort to try to hear. She caught snatches of words, enough to know he was discussing problems involving his work.

As she placed a letter in the box for mail, Zach got off his phone. “Emma, take a break. The afternoon is more than half gone.”

“I’m fine.”

“Take a break—walk around the place, go outside, go to the kitchen and get a snack—whatever you want to do. Don’t argue or I’ll come get you and we’ll go for a stroll. As much as I can stroll right now.”

She laughed. “What a threat,” she said, placing mail in the box and hurrying out of the room as she received a grin from him. She hoped he didn’t guess moments like that played havoc with her insides. How tempting to head back to work just to get him to spend the next few minutes with her.

She stood in the wide, empty hall and wondered what to do, finally going toward the kitchen to get a cup of tea. She suspected there was a very well-stocked pantry.

“Afternoon, Emma,” Rosie greeted her.

“It smells wonderful in here.”

“Roast for dinner. Can I get you something?”

“Yes, thank you. If possible, I’d like a cup of hot tea.”

“Of course,” Rosie replied. “Looks as if you might be the one who stays.”

“I hope so.”

Rosie chuckled. “Those others looked frazzled and unhappy from the first morning. I would have sent one packing faster than Zach did. Have a seat and I’ll brew your tea—or if you want a breath of fresh air, go outside and I’ll bring it to you.”

“Thanks, Rosie.”

“You can take it back to your desk if you want. Zach isn’t particular about food in the office if you don’t leave crumbs or make a big mess.”

“I won’t,” Emma replied, smiling. “I’ll wait outside,” she added, stepping out onto the patio and strolling to the pool to look at the crystal water that was almost the same blue as Zach’s eyes.

When she finished her tea, she went to her room to retrieve a small box of family pictures. She had already distributed some pictures in the bedroom. When instructed to arrive with her things packed she had brought what she really wanted with her. She stopped to look around again, still amazed at the size and beauty of where she would stay.

When she returned to her desk, Zach was on the phone and she had more work waiting. After placing her pictures on her desk and table, she focused on correspondence, so lost in concentration she was startled when Zach spoke to her.

“It’s half past five. Just because the work is here in the house, you don’t need to stay all hours. We’ll close the office now. I eat a late dinner, but you can eat whenever you want—Rosie will be in the kitchen until eight. After that she’ll have cold or easily heated choices on a chalkboard menu.”

“Thanks,” she said, wondering if she had eaten her last meal with the boss. If she had, it would be the wisest thing to happen. At the same time, she couldn’t prevent her slight disappointment.

“You’ve done good work today, Emma. I hope you like the job.”

She wanted to laugh and say that he sounded surprised. Instead, she merely nodded. “Thank you. I think this will be good.”

He gave her a long look that killed the impersonal moments that had just passed. Once again her nerves tingled, invisible sparks danced in the air and she could feel heat rising. In spite of logic, she didn’t want him to go.

Turning away, he walked out of the room without saying anything further. She stared at the empty doorway. The chemistry had not changed. He seemed to fight it as much as she, which was a relief and made the situation easier.

Zach continued to pile on a lot of work. While there wasn’t as much as that first morning, letters to write, papers to proof, appointments to set, phone calls and various tasks streamed to her desk. Time passed swiftly as she worked diligently and kept up with what he sent to her. There were no more lunches together. Sometimes he worked straight through and then stopped about four. Sometimes he ate at his desk. He continued to make an effort to keep their relationship impersonal, which suited her completely. No matter how cool he was, there still was no way to stop that acute consciousness she had of him as an appealing male.

Thursday the work he gave her in the morning was done by noon. When she returned after lunch he sat by a large cardboard box filled with papers.

“Want to tackle some of the old letters and memorabilia?”

“Sure,” she replied, watching him pull another chair near his. “That’s a lot of letters.”

“Many were written by my great-great-grandfather to his sister, his brother, later his wife. They were all saved and somehow ended up back with our family. Probably some relative didn’t want them and another one took them.”

“Zach, that’s wonderful. I’d think you’d want to read each of these yourself.”

“Hardly. They are letters from an old codger who settled out here and struggled to carve out a life on the plains. He was probably a tough old bird and about as lovable as a prickly porcupine. I think you are romanticizing him. Sit here beside me so whenever you have a question you can ask me. Want anything to drink before we start?”

“No, thank you, I’m fine.” As she crossed the room, his gaze raked briefly over her, making every inch tingle. She became aware of the navy sweater and matching slacks she had pulled on this morning, her hair in a ponytail.

Catching a whiff of his enticing aftershave, she sat beside him.

“The big basket is for letters and papers that go to the shredder,” he instructed. Sitting only inches from him, she was lost in his blue eyes and could barely focus on what he told her. She was even closer than she had been that first morning and it was distracting beyond measure.

“As far as I’m concerned, I think it would do the family a favor to shred all papers that don’t contain pertinent information that would affect our lives today,” he said. His voice deepened a notch and he slowed his speech. Was their proximity having an effect on him, too?

Lost in depths of blue, she was mesmerized. Her breath caught and held. He leaned a fraction closer. Her heart raced. With an effort she looked away, trying to get back to their normal relationship. Leaning away from him, she touched the yellowed envelopes in the large box as she tried to get back to his instructions.

“If there is anything about money, boundary rights, water rights, that sort of thing, then place the paper in the box marked Consider and I will read it. If you find maps, drawings, etc., then place them in Miscellaneous.”

As what he had told her to do sank in, she frowned. She picked up a tattered, yellow envelope with flowing writing across the front. “This was in the 1800s. Look at the address on it. It’s just a name and the county. You want to shred it?”

“If it doesn’t have anything pertinent to the matters I listed—rights, boundaries, money. Something significant.”

“The letter is significant if it has nothing like that in it. Isn’t it written by one of your ancestors?”

“Probably my great-great-grandfather. Maybe further back than that by one generation.”

“You can’t shred it. It’s wonderful to have all these letters from your ancestors and know what they were like,” she said, staring at him and wondering how he could care so little about his own family history. “How can you feel that way about them?”

With a smile he shook his head. “It’s past and over.”

“You have an architectural firm, so you must like old buildings.”

“Old buildings are more reliable than people. People change constantly and you can’t always count on them. An old building—if it’s built right—might last through centuries and you can definitely rely on it.”

She stared at him, wondering who had let him down so badly that he would view people as unreliable. Had it started when his mother had walked out on the family? Three young boys. Emma shivered, unable to imagine a mother leaving her young sons. Maybe that was why Zach kept his feelings bottled up. “This is your tie to your past. And your ancestors were reliable or you wouldn’t even be here now.”

“Okay, so read through the letters. If they’re not significant in the manner I’ve told you, toss them in this basket. Give me two or three of the most interesting and I’ll read them and see if I can discover why I should keep them. I think when you get into it, you’ll change your mind. I don’t want to save letters that tell how the sod roof leaks or the butter churn broke or a wagon needs a new axle.”

“I think all those things would be interesting.” She tilted her head to study him. “Family really isn’t important to you, is it?”

Shaking his head again, he continued to smile. “Sure it is. I’m close with my brothers. That doesn’t mean I want a bunch of old letters none of us will look at twice. They’re musty, rotting and of no value.” He leaned closer, so close she blinked and forgot the letters. He was only inches away and his mouth was inviting, conjuring up her curiosity about how he kissed.

“You’re looking at me as if I just sprouted fangs.”

She couldn’t get her breath to answer him. His eyes narrowed a tiny fraction and his smile vanished. The look in his eyes changed, intensifying. Her pulse drummed, a steady rhythm that was loud in her ears. “I can’t understand your attitude.”

“Well, we’re alike to a degree there—I can’t understand yours,” he said lightly. Again a thick silence fell and she couldn’t think about letters or the subject of their conversation or even what he had just said. All she thought about was his mouth only a few inches from hers. Realizing the lust-charged moments were happening too often, she shifted and looked away, trying to catch her breath and get back on track.

She stood and stepped away, turning to glance back. “I’ll get a pen and paper in case I need to take notes.”

“I’ll help sort some of these,” he said, studying her with a smoldering look.

She wanted to thank him and tell him his help wasn’t necessary. It definitely wasn’t wanted. She needed to keep space between them. Big spaces. This wasn’t a way to start a new assignment. She had no such attraction to men she worked with in Dallas, or anywhere else for that matter. Why was Zach Delaney so compelling?

It was certainly not because he was great fun or because they had so much in common. The only similarities they had were living in Texas at the same time in history and being connected in business to the same company. She had to get a grip on her reactions to him.

In every way he was not the man to be attracted to. Her boss, a world traveler, cared almost nothing for all the things that were important to her, family most of all.

Picking up a tablet, a pen and an empty wooden tray, she returned to her chair, pulling it slightly farther from his, but she couldn’t move away because the basket and box to put the old documents in stood between them. She placed the wooden tray on the floor beside her chair.

When she opened the first envelope, a faint, musty odor emanated as she withdrew thin, yellowed pages covered in script. She read the letter from a man who wrote about frontier life, the “beeves” he had rounded up, and his plans to take them north to sell.

“Zach, if this is your great-great-grandfather, you should read this letter and see what kind of life he had,” she said impulsively. “It’s fascinating. He writes about a wagon train that came through and camped on his land. Is that this same ranch?”

“Same identical one,” he remarked dryly, amusement in his expression.

“Listen—’their leader was Samuel Worthington,’” she read. “‘Samuel asked if they could stay. He said they had traveled from Virginia and were going west. They had lost four people in their group. The four unfortunates drowned when they crossed a treacherous river after a rain. I gave them flour and beef so they had fresh supplies. Worry ran high about finding water in days to come so I drew Samuel a map of the land I know and showed him where to find water when they left my home. They have great expectations regarding their journey.’”

She lowered the letter to look at Zach. “I think that’s wonderful. Don’t you feel you know a little now about your great-great-grandfather? He was kind and generous with those travelers. I would be so excited if these were letters written by my great-great-grandfather.”

Zach smiled at her as if facing a bubbling child. “Okay. My great-great-grandfather was a nice guy who was good to people passing through. That knowledge really doesn’t bring me closer because he lived years ago. It doesn’t change the course of life. He was a rancher in the old days of the longhorns and he had a tough life. He worked hard and was successful and built on the land to pass that on to the next Delaney son. I don’t need to wade through all his old letters about life on the plains in the early days.”

She tilted her head to study Zach. She was both annoyed by his attitude and at the same time, mesmerized again by his enticing smile. “Do your brothers feel the way you do?”

“We haven’t talked about it. I’ll ask before I shred these. I would guess that Will might want them and Ryan will feel the same as I do.”

She shook her head. “I can’t understand your family. You must not have been close growing up.”

He shrugged and shook his head. “When our mom walked out and divorced Dad, he sent us away to different boarding schools. I suppose he had some reason that seemed logical to him. We’re close in some ways, but we were separated most of the time for a lot of years. It made a difference.”

“That’s truly dreadful.”

He smiled again and her pulse fluttered. “Don’t feel too sorry for us. Our father spent a lot of money on us.”

“Money doesn’t make up for some things.”

“We could argue that one all night,” he said, leaning back and placing his hands behind his head. The T-shirt stretched tautly across his broad shoulders and his muscles flexed. As he stretched out, she could not keep from taking one swift glance down the length of him. Feathers were holding a dance inside her. Everything quivered and lustful thoughts flashed in her mind. She realized silence was growing again and he watched her with a look of interest. Her mind raced for something, trying to think where the conversation had ended.

“Your great-great-grandfather—I wonder if any of you resemble him.”

“You can see for yourself. In the last years of his life, someone painted his portrait. It hangs in the library.” He put down his arms and leaned forward. “C’mon. I’ll show you.”

“You don’t need to walk there now. I assume you’re supposed to be staying off your foot.”

“I can walk around,” he said, getting the crutch. “I go to the doc next week and hope to get off this crutch. I’ll still be in some kind of crazy medical shoe, but at least I may lose the crutch. C’mon. We’ll go look at my old ancestor. I suspect he was a tough old bird. My dad was in his own way. I’m amazed he kept the letters. He didn’t have a sentimental bone in his body until the last couple of years of his life. Or maybe since Caroline’s birth. That little granddaughter changed him.”

“That’s family—little children wrap around your heart.”

He gave her another big smile. “You’re sentimental, Emma.”

“I certainly am,” she replied cheerfully.

He led the way into the library that held shelves of books from floor to ceiling. A huge portrait in a gilt frame hung above the fireplace and she looked at a stern-faced man with prominent cheekbones, straight gray hair, mustache and beard.

“I can’t see that you look like him in any manner at all.”

“No, I don’t think so either.” He gestured across the room. “Over there are portraits of my paternal grandfather and my dad.”

She crossed the room. “You don’t look like them either.”

“If I have a resemblance to any forebears, it’s my maternal grandfather. People say I look like him. I don’t see it much myself except for the hair. No pictures of him here.”

She returned to the fireplace to study the picture, thinking about the letter she had just read. “I’d think you’d want to read every letter in that box.”

“I’m leaving that to you.”

She turned to find him looking at her intently, a look that was hot and filled with desire, giving her heart palpitations. In spite of his injured foot, he looked strong and fit. Muscled arms, broad shoulders, flat belly. She stepped toward the door.

“We better go back and let me start reading them,” she said, heading out of the room, aware that he fell into step beside her. “You said you have brothers. Do they have ranches around here or do all of you gather here?”

“Both. I’m not a rancher, so I’ve probably spent the least time here, but we were here plenty growing up. Plenty to suit me. I’m not a cowboy and not a rancher and my brothers can ride the horses. No, thanks. Will’s ranch adjoins this one. Caroline loves it there, so they go quite often. Ryan’s ranch is farther away. He’s a cowboy through and through. Maybe it’s because he spent too much time out here with Granddad.”

“So will your brothers come here this week for Thanksgiving?” she asked, lost in thoughts about her own family’s plans. She was taking a corn casserole and a dessert for everyone.

“No. Ryan’s with a friend and Will and family are going to his home in Colorado.”

“I can’t imagine not being with family, but if you’re with close friends or a close friend and family, that works,” she said, glancing at him to see a grin. “You’re staying out here alone, aren’t you?” she blurted, aghast to think his brothers were going their own way and Zach had no plans. She started to invite him to her house, but she remembered that her predecessors had not lasted more than a few days at best on this job. If she invited him and then he dismissed her, it would be awkward.

“You’re staring, Emma, and you have pity written all over your face,” he said. “A new experience in my adult life. I can’t remember anyone feeling sorry for me for any reason before.”

Heat flushed her cheeks, and she forced a faint smile, hoping the pitying expression would vanish. They had stopped walking and were gazing at each other. He placed a hand on her shoulder lightly. The feathery touch with anyone else would have been impersonal, but with Zach, it was startling.

“It’s my choice,” he said. “Stop worrying.”

“Zach, you can come to our house,” she said, changing her mind about inviting him because it was sad to think of him being alone. “My family would be happy to have you. We’ve always invited friends who would have been alone on Thanksgiving, so I know my family will welcome you.”

His grin widened. “Thank you for the very nice invitation, but I rarely notice holidays and don’t celebrate them.”

“Is this a religious thing?” she asked.

“No. It’s a ‘my thing.’ As I mentioned, my brothers and I grew up in boarding schools, and sometimes we were left there on holidays because our folks were in Europe or heaven knows where,” he explained. While he talked, she was acutely conscious of his hand still lightly on her shoulder. His gaze lowered to her lips and she could barely get her breath. It took an effort to pay attention to what he was saying. “None of us care much about holidays. Will is changing because of Caroline and his wife, Ava. I’m usually not in the country on Thanksgiving, but this year spending it alone here on the ranch is what I choose to do. Thank you anyway for your invitation,” he said, turning to walk again.

Still physically too aware of him at her side, she strolled beside him. The hot attraction that obviously affected both of them tainted this job. If she got to stay, could she keep their relationship impersonal? She didn’t think it would be much of a problem.

This loner, besides being her boss, was not the man to be attracted to. How could he possibly want to spend Thanksgiving alone? Even though he came from enormous wealth, he must have had a cold, lonely childhood. He seemed a solitary person who stayed out of the limelight and worked in distant places where he was unknown. She had seen pictures of his brother in the newspapers and in Texas magazines, but never Zach. He clearly kept a low profile.

As they entered the office, she parted with him and went to her desk to try to concentrate on work.

Over an hour later Zach received a phone call. She continued with her work, but by the time half an hour had passed and he had had three calls, she realized there must be a problem somewhere. He sat with his back to her, his feet propped up on a nearby computer table. The room was large enough that she couldn’t hear exactly what he said. When she caught snatches of a few words, she guessed the language was German.

She worked until five to get everything done he had given her. He was still engrossed in phone calls when she shut off her computers and left the room. In her room, she spent over an hour reading and replying to emails from family and close friends before going to the kitchen for dinner.

Thinking of the loner in the office the entire time.

Lowering his feet Zach had swiveled in his chair and watched Emma leave the room, but his many phone calls had demanded his focus. Now, he glanced down at a letter on his desk she had typed. “I’ll make the call at 8:00 in the morning your time and see if we can’t get this worked out quickly,” he said into the phone. “Right, Todd. I’ll let you know. It’s too late there to call anyone now.” He replaced the receiver, glanced at his watch and sighed.

His cell phone indicated a call and he answered because it was Will.

“Can you talk now?” Will asked.

“Yes. We’ve had problems on a job and I’ve been on and off the phone for the past two hours.”

“I’ve gotten a busy signal once. How’s it going with the new secretary or is it too early to tell?”

Zach glanced again at the letter on the desk. “She’s a good secretary. I don’t think she’ll last though. She’s totally wound into her family in Dallas, which is several hours away from here, probably too far. They live, breathe, eat and stay together most of the time.”

“Just say the word and I’ll get someone else sent out.”

“Not yet,” Zach said, thinking about Emma’s green eyes. “She’s efficient. She’s sentimental—you’d think these old letters were worth a million the way she views them. She can’t keep from telling me I shouldn’t shred them.”

Will laughed. “Another one telling you what to do?”

“No, not like the first one. Emma’s just so into families, she can’t understand that I’m not treasuring every word from our ancestor. He was probably a tough old guy, even tougher than Dad. Why would I treasure every word he uttered?”

“You’re a little more irreverent than most descendants would be. I’m a little curious about them, so I want to read a few and see what’s in those boxes.”

“You can have them, Will.”

“No. You volunteered. You just need the right secretary to help you. Sounds to me as if you don’t have a good fit yet and I should send someone.”

“No. She’s an excellent secretary. I’ve piled on the work and she’s done it accurately and quickly. I don’t want to dump her because she likes the box of old letters.”

“True. At least she may really read them.”

“Oh, she’ll read them all right,” Zach said, smiling as he remembered Emma poring over the one, her head bent. Her red hair held gold strands and a healthy shine. She had it pinned up, but strands spilled free and indicated long hair. Long hair and long legs.

“We’ll leave in a few weeks for Colorado. If you change your mind and want to come along, or to spend Thanksgiving with us, let me know.”

“Thanks, but I’m fine. My new secretary was a little shocked when she learned I’m spending the holiday alone. She invited me to join her family.”

There was a moment’s pause. “You two are getting to know each other.”

“How can we avoid it? Remember, we work all day together and there are just the two of us here except when we see Rosie or Nigel.”

“If you were Ryan, I’d ask if she’s good-looking, but I’ve heard you talk too often about avoiding dating employees.”

“You and I have agreed that’s a complication no one needs in his life. I don’t want any part of that kind of trouble,” he said, thinking about her full lips and hearing a hollow sound to his words. “There’s no need to bring emotions into the workplace—at least the kind of emotions that a relationship would create. Common sense says no way,” he added, more to himself than Will.

“It worked with Ava.”

“Yeah, but you hired her to work with Caroline—that was different from an office situation and you know it. It’s not going to happen here. I get looks from her like I’m from another planet with my feelings about holidays, families and memorabilia.”

Will laughed. “I can imagine that one. There are times you get those looks from me. Ryan is the baby brother and he accepts whatever we do.”

“Yeah. I do get those looks from you, but I don’t know why because you’re like me about sentiment. Or at least you were until Ava and Caroline. Especially Caroline. They’ve mellowed you until I hardly know you.”

“You ought to try it sometime,” Will answered lightly. “I’ll talk to you before we leave for Colorado.”

“Sure, Will. Thanks for the invitation. Tell Ava I said thanks.” Zach ended the call and swung his chair around to look out the window without really seeing anything outside. Envisioning Emma, he wanted to be with her again. He had just blown the sensible course. He should have let Will send out another secretary, yet how could he get rid of Emma when her secretarial skills were excellent and she wanted the job? He couldn’t send her back because of the steamy chemistry between them.

“Keep it strictly business,” he whispered, lecturing himself. Stay away from her except when working. Don’t share lunches or dinners or anything else outside of the office and work. Willpower. Resoluteness.

Thinking of the problems on the project in Maine, the buildings the company had bought and intended to replace with one large building, a parking garage and a landscaped area, he tossed down a pen and returned to thinking about Emma. He wanted to have dinner with her, but hadn’t he just resolved to avoid her? He didn’t want to get involved with an employee, especially a sentimental homebody who could barely leave her family and especially an employee living under the same roof with him. It could complicate his life beyond measure to have her expect some kind of commitment from him and to have rumors flying at the office. He didn’t want tears and a scene when he told her goodbye. Thoughts of any of those things gave him chills.

She didn’t look like a sentimental homebody, at least his idea of one. Her full red lips, the mass of red hair that was caught up on her head hinted at a wild, party-loving woman. The reactions she had to just a look from him implied a sensuous, responsive lover.

“Damn,” he said aloud. Taking a deep breath, he yanked papers in front of him.

Wiping his brow, he leaned over his desk and tried to concentrate on tasks at hand. After two minutes he shoved aside papers and stood. He should send her away, get her out of his life, but the chemistry he wanted to avoid made it impossible to think about giving her up. No matter what he’d just told himself, he wanted to be with Emma—what could a dinner hurt?

With a glance at his watch, he saw he had probably already missed her and a hot dinner from Rosie. Annoyed he would have to eat alone, he headed to the kitchen, hoping Emma was still there.

His disappointment when she wasn’t bothered him even more than her absence. Since when had he started to look forward to being with her so much?