Читать книгу Almost a Christmas Bride - Susan Crosby - Страница 9

Kincaid’s house was set back from the street by at least a hundred feet. Shana maneuvered her car down the long, curving driveway surrounded by pine and oak trees of varying heights and density, which mostly blocked the house from view, at least low to the ground.

“Sure is dark,” she said, then made the final turn and stopped in front of a large lodgelike structure, with a well-lit front porch.

“Dark,” Emma said from her car seat.

“I’ll bet it’s pretty during the day, though. What do you think, peapod? Look at all those windows. The view must be spectacular.”

Emma babbled her response, although “pretty”—her newest word in her rapidly expanding vocabulary—

came through loud and clear mid-paragraph, even if it did sound more like “pity.”

Shana got Emma from the backseat and headed up the stairs of the impressive structure, so suited to its environment. According to Aggie, he’d built the house himself about four years ago. Apparently everyone had talked about it, because his original goal had been to sell it, then he hadn’t, surprising them all. They’d wondered why one man would need a house with five bedrooms. There’d even been a pool going for a while about when he would get married, but it never happened, and the gossip eventually died off, although everyone had wondered if he’d had his heart broken by a rejection.

Kincaid opened the front door and said hello before she could knock. He wore jeans, a plaid flannel shirt and thick socks. His shirtsleeves were rolled up a few turns, revealing muscular forearms. Strong. She associated the word with him more than any other.

“Cat got your tongue?” he asked, cocking his head.

“Kitty?” Emma asked, looking around. “Me down,” she said, wriggling. “Kitty.” Her tone was the same insistent one she used to say “cookie.”

“There’s no kitty, peapod,” Shana said. “Or is there?”

“No pets at all,” Kincaid said. “Come in out of the cold. I built a fire. Don’t worry. It’s got a large, sturdy screen. I made adjustments to it today to affix it to the stone. There’s no danger to Emma.”

His consideration caught her off guard. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”

“Well, selfish, too,” he said. “I like my fires in winter and didn’t want to give them up.” He turned to Emma. “How are you, Miss Emma?”

“Do you remember Kincaid, Emma?” Shana asked. “Can you say Kincaid?”

Emma shook her head, her thumb stuck firmly in her mouth.

“It’s a new word, isn’t it? Please try, Emma. Say Kincaid.”

She gave Kincaid a long look, then said, “Kinky.”

Shana slapped a hand over her mouth, stifling a laugh. “Almost, baby. Try again. Kincaid.”

“Kinky,” Emma said, louder.

“Kinky it is,” Kincaid said, not seeming bothered by it.

“If it’s any consolation,” Shana said, “she started calling Dylan ‘Dilly.’”

“I’d rather be Kinky than Dilly.”

“I’m sure.” She smiled. “Where is he, anyway?”

“He drove to Sacramento to buy some posters, which apparently you suggested for his new place.”

“I don’t think he’s a wildflower-print kind of guy, do you?”

Kincaid shook his head. He led them toward the fireplace, which took up a good portion of one wall and was bracketed by floor-to-ceiling windows, triple-paned, he said, for temperature control. The furnishings were perfect for the lodgelike environment, overscale and masculine, and yet not so masculine as to feel sterile.

“Me down,” Emma said again. Shana set her on the floor, and she toddled closer to the fireplace, coming to a stop several feet from it. “Pretty.”

Shana joined her, taking off her tiny jacket, as well as her own. Kincaid took both and hung them on a rack by the front door.

“Your home is beautiful,” she said.

“Thanks. Would you like to see the rest?”

“Yes. Come on, Emma.”

Emma went ahead of them, so they followed her lead. She took them through the dining area on the opposite side of the living room, which also had a stunning view, then into the most perfect kitchen Shana had ever seen, with maple cabinets, stainless-steel appliances, green-and-gold granite countertops and more cabinet space than one man could ever possibly use, even if he were a professional chef. She’d had jobs as a short-order cook in small towns several times to earn her keep, but she didn’t consider her skills more than basic. Could the right kitchen inspire her to become better at it?

They moved on to two downstairs bedrooms, then upstairs to see two more bedrooms, an office and the master suite, which was about the same size as the one-bedroom apartment she currently lived in. Every room was completely and beautifully furnished. She looked at it all with a designer’s eye and didn’t see a need to change anything, which was a little disappointing. She’d been hoping her talents would be put to use at his house.

“You and Emma are welcome to use the two bedrooms downstairs or upstairs.”

“Thanks. I’ll think it over.” She thought it would be a good idea to keep her distance from him, keep Emma’s noise to minimal disruption, and yet she liked the security of being on the same floor.

“I need you to decide soon. Dylan and I will have to move furniture out of the right bedroom to make room for Emma’s things.”

“Okay. Did you have a professional designer?”

“I designed the house, but I hired a decorator to help furnish it. If you’d lived in town then, I would’ve hired you.”

Shana studied him for a few seconds, then watched Emma, who was standing at the foot of his bed as if plotting how to climb up on it. “This is weird,” Shana said.

“What’s weird?” He crouched to give Emma a boost, but she moved sideways, out of reach. He looked over his shoulder at Shana.

“Us. This. We’re not arguing. We always argue.”

“I wouldn’t call it arguing. No one ever shouts. Mostly it’s just insults. And you usually start it.”

Shana’s mouth dropped open. “I usually start it? You just started it.” She rushed forward to stop Emma, who’d grabbed the deep green duvet and was trying to pull herself up.

“I won’t let her fall,” Kincaid said, as if offended. He reached for Emma.

“No,” she said.

“Emma,” Shana said, caution in her voice

“No Kinky.” She took off running, another recently mastered skill, giggling all the way. Shana was hot on her heels.

He found them in his office, Emma holding on to his desk and moving away from Shana, giggling at the game. Her hands hit the computer keyboard, waking up the monitor, the sudden light startling her.

“You can’t touch the computer, Emma,” Shana said, turning to look at Kincaid. “I’m so sorry.”

He realized then what was on the screen. A spreadsheet of his annual expenses that he’d intended to transfer to a flash drive. She’d glanced at the screen. Would she notice? It had a big heading, in bold. If she read it, she’d know he’d already computerized the work he’d told her he wanted her to do.

Then she wouldn’t believe anything else he said—

“Here’s the box of receipts I told you about. I pretty much just toss them in here all year, then deal with them at the end.”

“I can manage that. I’m kind of surprised you’re that disorganized, Kincaid. You don’t seem like you would be.”

“We all have our flaws.”

“Yes, we do. Let’s go, peapod,” she said.

Kincaid blew out a breath then trailed them more slowly, gauging their location by following the laughter. There hadn’t been much laughter in this house. Not that it was a depressing place to be, not at all, but he’d been alone most of the time. Having Dylan around had been an adjustment, and there had been laughs between them, but nothing like he expected would become the norm with Shana and Emma around.

Kinky. He wondered what people would say once they heard Emma call him that in public, if she ever warmed up to him. The idea that she wouldn’t take to him hadn’t crossed his mind. Until now.

Except, she was Shana Callahan’s daughter, after all. Maybe like mother, like daughter.

He went into the living room and stoked the fire, adding a log, then sat in his chair, leaving the sofa for them. They came running back into the room, Shana scooping her up and whirling her around. It was a homey moment, one played out in houses around the world all the time, but a first for him. They were a family unit, Shana and Emma. Shana would be there day in and day out, taking care of the house, helping with his business, in his line of sight a great deal of the time, and sleeping nearby.

A wife but without the conjugal benefits, he thought.

He’d sort of considered that before, but having her here finally brought it home, the enormity of what he’d offered her—she’d be an almost wife.

And what she considered a negative—their sparring—he enjoyed. A lot. She was usually direct, her honesty startling at times, but he wished he knew why she was edgy around him. He hadn’t noticed her having the same reaction or behaving the same way with anyone else.

“Baby girl, you are wet. You need your diaper changed,” Shana said.

“Diappy.”

“Exactly.” Shana looked at Kincaid. “We should probably go. I’ll change her at home.”

But you just got here. He was caught between relief and disappointment. “Okay.”

They put their jackets on. He followed them out the door and down the steps, waiting as Emma was buckled into her car seat.

“Say bye-bye to Kincaid,” Shana said to her, not shutting the door yet.

“Bye-bye.” She waved. “Kinky! Bye-bye!”

Apparently, she warmed up at the thought of leaving. “Goodbye, Miss Emma. I’ll see you soon.”

Shana shut the door, got in the car and started the engine. She rolled down the window, then she stared out the windshield, as if working up the nerve to say something.

Kincaid crouched and waited.

“Thank you for the job. And I’ll try not to argue with you,” she added with a small smile. “Not sure I can follow through on that one.”

“Baby steps, Shana. Just be honest. That’s all I ask.”

“You, too,” she said.

He tapped the car with his open hand to end the conversation, then stood. He could be honest with her—to a point. They both had reputations to uphold, after all. He intended to do just that. “It’s cold. You should get going.”

“See you Saturday,” she said with a wave, then she was gone.

He watched until her taillights were out of sight. He didn’t think he’d ever forget the look on her face as she’d thanked him. It had humanized her for him in a way that he hadn’t acknowledged about her before. He’d been told she was well liked by many other people, but at times it was as if she’d gone out of her way for him not to like her.

Until now.

He was glad he’d seen it for himself. He saw hope, even that they could become friends through all this.

Time would tell.

Shana carried Emma up the stairs from the salon to her apartment. How tiny the place seemed after seeing Kincaid’s. A few minutes ago, she’d almost told him about her past, but had stopped herself in time and only thanked him. A lot of people knew she’d moved around a lot, but not many other details. She hadn’t wanted rumors to spread, especially since she’d already come back to town as a single mother.

Only her immediate family knew the circumstances—and Aggie. For all that Aggie loved a good bit of gossip, she’d kept Shana’s situation to herself, even quoting her hero, Henry Ford—”‘Failure is simply the opportunity to begin again, this time more intelligently.’”

Shana hoped she could live up to Aggie’s expectations, and wished her parents had been as generous. They’d been much slower to put the past behind.

Maybe she was being too hard on them. Her mother had come a long way in forgiving Shana for leaving and also accepting her back, but Shana sometimes wondered if it was more because of Emma, not her. Her father, always the strong, silent type, still rarely spoke to her. He’d mostly been the reason she’d run away—him and her own rebellious nature.

She wanted forgiveness from her father for that. Since he wasn’t one to share his feelings, she doubted she would ever hear those words from him.

“I love you, peapod,” Shana said to her daughter as she set her down to change her.

Emma hadn’t learned to say I love you, yet. Shana was looking forward to it. She didn’t have any memories of her parents saying those words.

“How about a bath?” Shana asked.

“Bath!”

That was an enthusiastic yes.

After Emma had a splashy swim and two books read, Shana tucked her into her crib, then she fixed a cup of tea and sat down for what felt like the first time all day. Filled boxes were stacked in one corner of the living room, waiting to be taken to Kincaid’s.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the sofa, then the phone rang. Her sister.

“Hey, Dix! It’s 6:00 a. m. where you are.”

“How do you do that?” Dixie asked with a laugh. “I always have to look at the clock and count the time difference on my fingers.”

“We all have our talents.”

“I guess we do, math whiz. I got your message, but Joe and I were out of cell phone range. What’s up?”

“I have … interesting news. I got a job. A full-time, permanent position, right here in Chance City.”

“That’s wonderful! What is it?”

“I’ll be working for Kincaid.” Shana waited for her sister’s reaction. Dixie knew how Shana felt about Kincaid.

“Really? Is he hiring a bodyguard, too?”

Shana laughed. She missed her sister so much. If only they could be sitting on the sofa together, talking about this situation over tea. “Very funny, Dix.”

“Well, there is the whole I-can’t-stand-Kincaid thing you’ve had going since the day you met him. You two are like oil and water sometimes.”

“I know, but it’s a chance to make a good life for Emma and me. I can’t turn that down.”

“You really have grown up.”

“I hope so. And some of that credit belongs to you. I couldn’t have made it without you, Dix, and that’s no exaggeration. But as grateful as I am, I can’t continue to clean the salon. I’m not going to have enough time.”

“What all are you going to be doing?”

“Everything. Helping with his business, drumming up design work, taking care of his home.”

“His home?”

“I’m moving in. Emma and I will be living there.”

There was a long stretch of silence. “Live-in? Really, Shana, is that wise?”

“I don’t know yet. I guess I’ll find out. But Dix, it means I can save money. In time I can have the life I’ve wanted for Emma and me.”

“But … living together, Shana?”

“He hired me through At Your Service. It’s all on the up-and-up.” She sounded defensive, even to herself. “Look, I know it seems odd, but I’m getting used to the idea. I think it’ll work out fine.”

“What will Mom and Dad say?”

Shana wished she could say she didn’t care, but it wasn’t true. “They’ll probably be embarrassed or offended. I can’t change that.”

“Well, you’re an adult. You get to make your own decisions. As for the job at the salon, Jade could use the money, I’m sure. She’ll take it on, as well as her receptionist duties.” Dixie yawned, then laughed. “Sorry. We’ve put in long hours this week.”

“You were supposed to be home by now. Eight-thousand miles from here to Tumari is way too far.”

“I know. Oh, I’m so homesick, Shana. I’m aiming for Christmas in Chance City. I won’t care if I ever travel again in my entire life, although I wouldn’t have passed up this opportunity for anything. And Joe’s really shined, you know? But he misses everyone, too.”

They chatted a little longer then said good-night. Shana picked up her tea again and sipped it, although it had cooled. She considered reheating it, but her thoughts wandered instead.

Dixie had been gone for over six months. Had Kincaid gotten over her during that time? Or would having her home stir up old feelings? She understood what he’d seen in Dixie. She was smart and confident and beautiful, not to mention all those curves that men appreciated, whereas Shana was just … ordinary, and too thin, lacking curves. At least that should help in keeping things professional between her and Kincaid. Without physical attraction, it wouldn’t be complicated.

She needed this job, and their relationship, to stay uncomplicated. For her sake, for Emma’s sake, for her chance at a happy life.

Nothing mattered more than that.

Kincaid had just said good-night to Dylan, who’d gone off to bed. They’d stayed up later than usual, Dylan too excited about moving into his own place to settle down, so they’d watched a movie and half of another before he yawned and headed to his room.

Kincaid couldn’t settle down, either. Seeing Shana in his house, in his personal space, had been disconcerting. He’d thought since Dylan had been living there for a couple of months, and Kincaid had gotten accustomed to having someone around, that it wouldn’t be difficult to have Shana and Emma move in.

Wrong. He’d hadn’t foreseen how much time he’d be spending alone with a woman he found attractive, if not exactly the kind of woman he usually went for, the fun-loving, easygoing women he tended to ask out.

And then there was Emma. Not just busy but rambunctious. Curious.

His phone rang. It was late, too late for a casual call.

Then he saw the caller ID.

He leveled out his voice. “Hello, Dixie.”

“You’re moving her in with you?” she almost shouted.

He winced a little. “You wanted me to help her. I’m helping.”

“I did not ask you to move her into your house, Kincaid. I asked you to give her a job.”

“You asked, and I quote, ‘Can you please help her in some way?’”

“As in give her a job.”

“I did that. Several jobs, actually, because I can’t give her enough work for one full-time job, so I needed to improvise. I decided I could use a housekeeper more than anything. She won’t have to pay rent, and she’ll have money left over at the end of the week. Now, what’s your objection?”

“If she finds out I had anything to do with this—”

“I already promised you she wouldn’t. What else?” Because he knew there was more. He was just waiting for her to say it.

“You can’t sleep with her, Kincaid.”

“For the sake of argument, why not?” Because the idea wasn’t as impossible as he’d thought a couple of days ago.

“Because you’re not the marrying kind, and she needs a marrying kind.”

“I think that’s up to her, don’t you? Anyway, that’s not on my agenda. I thought you’d be happy. She’ll be in a safe place with plenty to do, and leisure time, as well. No more commuting to Sacramento. A backyard for Emma. I think I hit the ball out of the park for you.”

“I’ll be keeping close tabs. I’ll call her a lot.”

“I’m sure she’ll like that.” He found himself grinning. Dixie could be almost as stubborn as Shana.

“So, I should just say thank you?”

“That would be nice. I’ve disrupted my life a lot for you.”

“Thank you.”

He laughed. “That didn’t sound too sincere.”

“I’m awaiting the outcome. I do appreciate that you are doing something for her. I’m just worried about exactly what that is.”

“You trust me, or you wouldn’t have asked,” he said, taking the stress level down a few notches. “I’ll do right by your sister.”

“Thank you,” she said, a genuine tone in her voice this time.

“You’re welcome. Feel free to call and check anytime.”

“I will.”

He laughed then they hung up. Having Dixie find out about the live-in situation had been his biggest hurdle, and he’d jumped it.

You can’t sleep with her. It hadn’t been on his mind for the past year, yet suddenly the idea of it was there, circling him, burning the image in his head.

He was counting on the fact she would be difficult to live with, which would keep his libido under control. That, and Emma, who would be around all the time, too.

He should be in for one helluva time.