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

The evening was quiet and after dinner Emma stayed in her room. She had eaten alone, experiencing a mix of relief and disappointment that Zach hadn’t appeared. It was wiser that he had not eaten with her. The less they socialized, the better, even though there was a part of her that wanted to see him.

On Friday, he appeared wrapped in business and he kept his distance. That afternoon, he told her to leave at one so she could get to Dallas ahead of the traffic.

“Thanks,” she replied, smiling broadly. “I’ll accept that offer.” Shutting down her computer, she was on the road away from the ranch twenty minutes later. They had gotten through the first week, so she must have the job. They also had kept a distance between them. He had been professional, quiet, but there was no way she could feel she had imagined the chemistry simmering just below the surface. Any time they locked gazes, it flared to life, scalding, filled with temptation, an unmistakable attraction.

Now she could believe rumors she had always heard that he never dated employees, never getting emotionally entangled with anyone on his staff, never even in the most casual way. She intended to keep that professional, remote relationship with him and this job would be a plus on her resume.

If she could just keep from dreaming about him at night—with a sigh, she concentrated on her driving and tried to stop thinking about Zach Delaney. Instead, she reflected on the fun she always had at home with the family and with her nieces and nephews.

Monday when she returned to work, she dressed in jeans, a T-shirt sprinkled with bling, and sneakers. Zach had said jeans were fine and that’s what he had worn every workday. Even so, she felt slightly self-conscious when she entered the office.

He was already there and looked up, giving her a thorough glance.

“You said jeans are acceptable,” she stated.

“Jeans are great,” he said in a tone that conveyed a more personal response. “Yours look terrific,” he added, confirming what she thought.

“Thank you,” she answered, sitting behind her desk and starting to work.

“This afternoon I’m going to Dallas to see my doctor. Hopefully, I can toss this crutch when I come home.”

“You can return to your traveling?”

“How I wish. No. He’s already told me that I’ll have to wear this and continue to stay off my foot except to get around the house. Still, it’ll be an improvement.”

“Sure,” she replied.

He returned to whatever he had been doing and they worked quietly the rest of the morning. When she left for lunch, he stayed in the office. In the afternoon, she read more Delaney letters, occasionally glancing at the great-great-grandson, continuing to wonder how he could care so little about his history.