Emmett (6 page)

He opened the door and walked in. She was typing at the computer. She didn't see him at first, not until he closed the door and the sound distracted her.

She looked up with her usual welcoming smile for clients, but it fell short when she saw the man in the gray suit and Stetson standing just inside the door.

“Emmett!” she said involuntarily.

The light in her eyes couldn't lie. Emmett smiled, because she was glad to see him and it showed. He liked the way she looked in that figure-hugging beige dress, with her long hair in a neat French braid and her dark eyes warm in her freckled face.

“Hello,” he replied. He moved close to the desk, feeling his body throb, his heart race as he drank in the sight and scent of her from scant inches away. His voice dropped an octave involuntarily in reaction. “You look well.”

“I am. I'm fine. How about you?” she asked worriedly.

“No more problems. I have a hard head,” he replied. His eyes slid over her face and down to the mouth he'd possessed briefly so long ago. It made him hungry to remember how eager and willing she'd been. “Emmett!”

The exclamation came from Logan, who'd walked
out with a letter to find his cousin standing over his flustered secretary.

“Hello, Logan,” Emmett said, extending a hand.

“You look prosperous,” Logan murmured with a smile. “What brings you to Houston?”

“I needed some advice. I was about to make an appointment…”

“No need for that. I'm not busy right now. Come on in.” He handed the letter to Melody and tried not to notice that her hands were trembling. Emmett obviously had a powerful effect on her.

“I wanted to see you about some investments,” Emmett said when they were sitting in Logan's office.

“Imagine that,” Logan said thoughtfully. “You said you didn't trust the stock market.”

“I've changed,” the other man replied doggedly.

“Indeed you have. How is it, being a full-time father?”

Emmett tossed his hat onto a nearby chair. “It's hell,” he said flatly. “I get all the hassles now. I never realized how much trouble three little kids could be. In fact, they're never
out
of trouble.”

“Now that you're home at night, that will change, I imagine,” came the droll reply. “You've spent a lot of time avoiding them.”

“You know why.”

Logan nodded. “Yes, I do. Are you finding your way out of the pit, Emmett?” he asked kindly.

Emmett ran a lean hand through his thick, dark hair. “Maybe. I don't know. A lot of things have changed since I had the fall. Maybe I was looking at it all the wrong way.”

“Divorce isn't easy on anyone,” Logan said quietly.
“It would kill me if Kit left me, for any reason. I don't know if I could take it if it was for another man.”

“That's how I felt. I thought I loved Adell,” he said heavily. “I really did. But now I'm not sure it wasn't just hurt pride.”

“Having her run out in the middle of the night with the other man involved couldn't have helped.”

“It didn't. I guess maybe I understand why she did it now, though. She isn't a fighter,” he added, echoing the words Melody had spoken. “She probably figured I'd play on her sympathy and talk her out of it if I had the chance.” He smiled faintly. “That's what would have happened. She never could stand up to me in a fight.” He leaned back. “It's all water under the bridge. I have to go on living. So does she. I want to make some provisions for the kids, in case anything happens to me. That's really why I'm here. I've got a little spare cash and I want to put it where it can grow.”

Logan considered it for a moment, his eyes narrowed. “All right. I've got a few ideas. How long are you going to be in town?”

“Until tomorrow,” came the surprising answer. “Mrs. Jenson is living in, so that she can watch the kids while I'm away. I…have a few other things to do while I'm in town.”

“Where can I reach you?”

Emmett gave him the number at his hotel. “Until six,” he said. “I may have plans for the evening.”

“Oh,” Logan said with a chuckle. “Confinement getting to you, is it? I gather the plans have something to do with a woman.”

“Well, yes.”

“From what I remember, the kids would make any sort of relationship impossible. I haven't forgotten that
they were trying to take off the door of the bathroom when Kit and I were in there, at your ranch.”

Emmett grinned at the darkly accusing stare. “So they did. Good thing the screwdriver was too big, wasn't it?”

Logan gave in to laughter. Emmett was as incorrigible as his kids.

 

He showed the other man out, but Emmett seemed strangely reluctant to leave. Perhaps he wanted to tell Melody something about the children, Logan decided, so he said his goodbyes and went back into his office.

Melody was typing nonsense into the computer, because Emmett's stare made her too nervous to function.

“Is there something you needed to ask me?” she said finally, dark eyes lifting to his.

“Yes,” he said with a husky laugh. “What are you doing for dinner?”

Doing for dinner.
Doing for dinner.
The words passed through her mind with very little effect. She stared at him blankly. The telephone rang loudly and she jumped, fumbling the receiver all over the desk before she finally got it to her ear and gave the correct response.

“I'll put you through to Mr. Deverell,” she said breathlessly, and buzzed Logan to give the caller's identity.

When she put the receiver back down, she was still very visibly shaken.

Emmett had his Stetson by the brim and he was watching her with a half-amused look that glittered in his green eyes. “Looking for excuses not to go?” he asked softly.

“Oh, no!” she replied huskily. “But why?”

“Why not?”

Her pulse started to run away. She wanted to refuse. She should. But somehow she couldn't. “I…what time?” she asked.

“Six.”

“This isn't a good idea, you know,” she said. “I'm still Randy's sister, and the past hasn't changed. Not at all.”

He moved closer to the desk and his lean hand toyed with a notepad on its paper-littered surface. His pale green eyes searched her dark ones quietly. “That's true. Maybe I've changed. I enjoy your company. I want to take you out for a meal. That's all,” he added flatly. “You won't have to fight me off over dessert and coffee.”

She laughed nervously. “That was the last thought in my mind.”

He didn't believe that. But she relaxed, and he felt glad that he'd said it. He didn't want to make her uneasy. She'd been too much on his mind lately and he wanted to find a way to purge her from it. Perhaps closer acquaintance would solve the problem for him. Often women who seemed nice weren't, and they couldn't keep up the act when a man took the time to get to know them.

Melody was relieved by his blunt statement. There had been a time or two when she had found herself having to talk her way out of a difficult situation.

“I'll see you at six, then,” he said.

He stuck the Stetson back on his head and went to the door. He paused there and turned. “I'm rabidly old-fashioned in one respect. I like dresses.”

She grinned impishly. “Yes, but how do you
look
in a dress?” she asked curiously.

His pale eyes splintered with good humor. “Wear what you damned well please, then,” he mused. “See you later.”

 

Melody owned one nice dress. It was black with a silvery draped bodice and spaghetti straps. It flattered her full-figured body without making her sexiness blatant. She coiled her hair around the top of her head and wore more makeup than usual. The final touch was high heels. Most men she dated were her height or shorter. But Emmett was very tall, and she could get away with wearing high heels when she went out with him. She liked the way she felt when she was dressed up; very feminine and sensuous.

Now, she wondered, why should she think of herself as sensuous? She had to douse that thought before Emmett read it in her face. She didn't want any complications.

He was prompt. The doorbell sounded exactly at six. She opened the door and there he was, very elegant in dark slacks and a white dinner jacket with a red carnation in the buttonhole of his lapel. The stark white contrasted handsomely with his lean, dark face and dark hair. He had on a cream-colored Stetson to set off the elegance.

“You look very nice,” she said huskily.

“Stole my line,” he mused, grinning at her. “Ready to go?”

“I'll just get my wrap and my purse.”

She draped a black mantilla over her shoulders and picked up her small black crepe purse. She checked to make sure Alistair had water and cat food. He was curled up on the couch asleep, so she didn't disturb him.

Emmett waited while she locked the door before he took her hand in his and led her along the corridor.

If someone had told her that holding hands could
be a powerful aphrodisiac she might have laughed, but with Emmett, it was. His lean, strong hand curled into her fingers with confident possession. Beside him she felt protected and unexpectedly feminine. She couldn't remember ever feeling that way with another date.

He saw her expression as he led her into the empty elevator and pushed the down button. He'd let go of her hand to do that. Now he leaned elegantly against the rail inside the elevator as it started to move and just watched her, registering the conflicting emotions that washed over her face.

The tension between them was chaotic. She could barely breathe as she met his eyes and felt her knees go weak.

“You look lovely,” he said, his voice deep, his eyes faintly glittery. “Black provides a backdrop for all the color in your hair and your face.” His eyes fell to her draped bodice and lingered there, making her feel shivery all over.

“How do you like Jacobsville, you and the children?” she asked quickly, hoping to distract him.

“What? Oh, so far, so good. It's no picnic, but I think we're all getting the hang of it. It's going to be the best thing that ever happened to the children,” he added quietly. “I honestly didn't realize how much out of hand they'd gotten.”

He looked broody for a minute, and Melody wondered if there wasn't more to it than that. But before she could voice her opinions, the elevator door opened and they were on their way out.

He stopped, taking her hand back in his and holding it warmly while he searched her eyes. “I like it better like
this. Don't you?” he asked softly, and he didn't smile. His eyes dropped to her mouth. “For now,” he added, very gently.

T
he cool air on her face felt good as they left the apartment house and walked down the street. Melody was still vibrating from the heady experience of being on a date with Emmett. He, on the other hand, seemed perfectly nonchalant. Her heart was racing like a mad thing while they walked, hand in hand.

He led her to the car and unlocked it, but when he partially opened her door, he stood still, so that she couldn't get past him. She was so close that she could smell his tangy cologne, feel the warm strength of his body. It made her react in an unexpected way, and she moved back against the car a little self-consciously.

“You're nervous of me. Why?” he asked.

She twisted her bag in her hands and laughed. “I'm not, really.” She shrugged. “It's just that it's been a long time since I've been out for the evening.”

He tilted her face up to his quiet eyes. His thumb
smoothed against her chin and her full lower lip, making sensation after sensation wash over her. She wasn't fooling him. He read quite accurately her helpless physical response to him. Whatever else she was, she wasn't experienced. That was unique to a man who deliberately chose women for their sophistication and disinterest in involvement. Melody was different.

“That's the only reason?” he asked, probing softly.

She couldn't hide her expression quickly enough. “Well…maybe not the only one,” she said demurely.

He smiled with pure delight. He bent and his lips brushed gently across her wide forehead. She smelled of soap and skin cream and floral cologne. The mingled scents appealed to his senses. “There's nothing to worry about,” he said quietly. “Nothing at all.” He moved away from her then, still good-natured. “I hope you like a smorgasbord of choices. This restaurant has international fare.”

The change from tenderness to companionship was unsettling, but Melody managed the shift. “I love international fare,” she said.

He opened the car door the rest of the way and helped her inside. All the way to the restaurant, the most intimate thing he discussed was the stock market and the state of the economy. By the time they disembarked, Melody could have been forgiven for thinking she'd dreamed that gentle kiss in the parking lot.

It wasn't a terribly ritzy place to eat. The food was very good and moderately priced, but Melody didn't have to worry if her clothes were good enough to wear to it. The thought made her smile.

Emmett cocked an eyebrow. “Private thoughts?”

“I was just glad that I'm properly dressed for this place, without being underdressed,” she confessed on
a laugh. “I don't have the wardrobe for those French restaurants where they don't even bother to put the prices on the menus.”

He chuckled. “I've eaten in a couple of those,” he replied. “I never felt very comfortable in them, though. My idea of a good lunch is a McDonald's hamburger.”

“Good old Scottish cooking,” she mused, tongue-in-cheek.

He laughed with her as he sampled his rare steak. “You're remarkably good-humored.”

“Oh, I like laughter,” she told him. “Life is too short to go around with a long face complaining about everything.”

He studied her over a bite of nicely browned steak. “You manage to work for my cousin without complaints?”

“Well…not many,” she said. “And he's my cousin, too, you know.”

His eyes grew somber and they fell to his plate. “So he is.”

“You look so remote.” She hesitated. “Oh, I see. You were thinking that Adell was related to him by marriage, and she's still related to him because she's married to Randy—” She broke off, flushing.

He put down his fork. His appetite had gone. He'd thought he was getting over Adell's defection, but apparently the wounds were still open.

“I'm sorry,” she said with a grimace. “I've ruined it all by bringing them up, haven't I?” She laid down her own fork. “It won't work, Emmett,” she said suddenly, without stopping to choose her words. “There are too many scars for us to be able to get along. You're never going to be able to forget about Randy and Adell.” That was true—and he didn't even know what she did, either, about Adell being pregnant. She felt guilty.

He lifted his eyes to her face. It made him angry that she'd assumed that he was romantically interested in her. It made him more angry that he'd actually been thinking along those lines until she'd dragged Randy and Adell into the conversation.

He lashed out in frustration. “Aren't you taking too much for granted? My God, this was only a dinner invitation, not a proposal of marriage!” he said angrily. His eyes calmed. “Or is that what you thought I might be considering by asking you out?” He smiled at her embarrassment without humor. “Do I really seem the sort of man who can't wait to get married a second time?”

She had to force down the hopes she'd been nursing since his invitation to this meal. He obviously had cold feet about any relationship between them, and he was hiding it in sarcasm. She knew that as surely as if he'd told her so.

“Of course not,” she lied. “That isn't what I was thinking at all. I only meant that taking me out isn't a good idea.”

“For once, we agree on something.” He lifted his coffee cup to his firm lips, averting his gaze. He must have been out of his mind to have come up to Houston in the first place. Asking Melody out had been another temporary mental aberration. He had enough trouble already without rushing out to search for more.

“Are you finished?” he asked when he'd drained his cup.

She was glad she hadn't wanted dessert. He seemed to be in a flaming rush to leave. She was eager to oblige him. The evening had been an unmitigated disaster!

He drove her back to her apartment in a furious silence, without even tuning in a song on the radio to
break the tension. Melody didn't feel any more inclined toward conversation than he seemed to.

She rode up in the elevator beside him without looking to the side. He paused at her door, sighing angrily.

“Thank you for an interesting evening,” she said tightly.

“It was gratitude for keeping the kids,” he said, his words as clipped as her own. “That's all. It was a belated thank-you for kindnesses rendered.”

“And accepted in the same vein,” she said. “No complications wanted.”

“That's right, and you remember it,” he said through his teeth. “You're the last damned complication I need right now!”

“Did I offer to be one?” she asked, aghast.

“Whether you did or not is beside the point! I've got kids who can't get along with anyone because they don't get any love at home. Their father doesn't give a damn about them and their mother ran away with your damned brother!”

The anger she'd felt was suddenly gone as she saw through the furious words to the hurt beneath it. He was wounded. She wondered if he knew how obvious it was, and decided that he didn't. Her dark eyes lost their glare and became gentle. She reached out with unexpected bravery and took one of his big, lean hands in hers.

“Come inside and have some coffee, Emmett,” she said gently. “You can tell me all about it.”

He must be daft. He kept telling himself he was as he let her lead him like a lamb into the softly lit kitchen.

He perched himself on her tallest stool and watched broodingly while she filled the coffeemaker and turned it on.

She sat down at the counter next to him, her mantilla
and purse deposited on the kitchen table until she had time to move them.

“What's wrong with the children?” she asked.

He sighed heavily. “Polk won't try to do his math. Guy can't get along with his teacher. Amy can't get along with anybody, and her teacher sends me this damned note that says she doesn't get enough attention at home.”

“And you're doing the best you can, only nobody knows it but you, and those words hurt.”

He lifted narrowed, wounded eyes to hers. “Yes, it hurts,” he said flatly. “I've done my best to provide for them. All I've had since Adell walked out is a housekeeper. Now, I'm trying to put things right, but I can't do it overnight!”

She smoothed her fingers gently over the backs of his strong, lean hands. “Why don't you write Amy's teacher a note and tell her that,” she suggested. “Teachers don't read minds, you know. They have to be told about problems. They're people, too, just like you and me. They can make allowances, when they know the situation.”

He relaxed. His tall, broad-shouldered form seemed to slump. “I'm tired,” he said. “It's a shock. New surroundings, new people, a new job with more responsibilities than I've had in years and the kids on top of it. I guess I got snarled up in it all.”

“It's perfectly understandable. Don't the kids like it better, having you home?”

“I don't know. Guy's still standoffish. I've tried to get him interested in things around the ranch, but he's shying away from me. He's not adjusting very well to school, because the teacher wants him to mind and he won't. He can't seem to conform, and his temper is his worst enemy. Amy and Polk aren't much better, but at
least I can handle them when they're not driving school officials batty.”

“Better them than you?” she teased.

He chuckled reluctantly. “Not really. I'll have to bone up on fractions and spend some time with Polk. Maybe I just haven't found the right tack with Guy yet. He likes ranching, but we don't have much in common outside it.”

“Emmett, hasn't it occurred to you that these problems could be nothing more than pleas for attention?” she asked. “Randy and I used to get into all sorts of trouble when Dad got too wrapped up in Mother's illness to notice us. It's a child's nature to want to be loved, to have proof of that love.”

“Not only a child's, Melody,” he said unexpectedly. His eyes searched hers from much too close. “Even adults can go off the deep end when no one gives a damn about them.”

“You know the kids love you.”

“I know.” His chest rose and fell heavily and his eyes grew intimate, holding hers for much longer than necessary, making her own pulse race.

“The, uh, the coffee's ready, I think,” she said. Her voice sounded husky, even shaky. She dragged her eyes away from his and went to get the coffee.

She took down cups and saucers from the cabinet, and while she got the coffee service together, Emmett moved around the living room, restless and unsettled. His eyes searched out the books in her bookcase, the framed prints on the wall. He seemed to be noticing everything, taking inventory of her likes and dislikes.

He was thumbing through a volume of poetry when she put the coffee things on the dining-room table.

He put the book down and joined her at the table. She put cream and sugar into hers. He left his own black.

“I've got some cookies around here somewhere,” she offered.

“No need. I don't have much of a sweet tooth,” he said. He stared into his coffee. “How did you know?” “Know what?”

He looked up with a rueful smile. “That I needed to talk about the kids.”

“You picked a fight for no reason,” she murmured dryly. “I used to have a friend in school who did the same thing. She never said what was bothering her. She picked fights until I made her tell me.” She fingered the rim of her coffee cup. “Or maybe you didn't exactly pick a fight for no reason,” she added sadly. “You aren't over Randy and Adell, really.”

He moved restlessly in the chair. “It's going to take time.”

Her eyes lifted to his. He didn't know that Adell was pregnant. How was she going to tell him? How could she tell him?

He saw that curious expression and scowled. “There's something,” he said slowly. “Something you're holding back. What is it?”

She averted her gaze to the coffee cup. “Nothing.”

“Now you sound like one of the kids.” He moved her coffee cup out of her reach and caught her hand in his over the small table. “Out with it. You made me talk when I didn't want to. It's your turn.”

“Emmett…”

He nodded reassuringly. “Come on.”

She winced. Her big, dark eyes were full of sadness, sorrow. “Adell…is pregnant.”

He didn't react at all for a minute. He let go of her
hand and sat back in his chair. He let out a long, rough breath. “Well.”

“You'd have found out sooner or later. I didn't want to have to be the one to tell you.”

He looked at her. “You didn't? Why?” he asked, letting the shock of what he'd learned pass over him for the moment.

“You resent me enough already because of my brother,” she said miserably.

His eyes searched her wan, sad face. “Do I?” he wondered aloud. It didn't feel like hatred. No, not at all.

He drained his coffee cup, and she took it, and hers, into the kitchen. She felt terrible. Working helped sometimes, so she busied herself loading the dishwasher. There wasn't much, but she'd saved last night's pots and pans to make a load. Behind her, she felt Emmett's eyes and could only imagine the torment he must be feeling. She wanted to console him, but she didn't know how.

After a minute, Emmett got up and poised himself against the kitchen counter to watch her work. He didn't want to think about Adell being pregnant by her new husband. He wasn't going to let himself do that now. Later would be time enough.

Melody was graceful for such a tall woman, he thought reluctantly, watching her hands as she put the dishes into the dishwasher.

She noticed the look she was getting. It made her tingle. He'd long since taken off his dinner jacket and tie and Stetson. His long-sleeved, pristine white shirt was partially unbuttoned and the sleeves were rolled up. He looked elegant and rakish, and Melody was surprised that he seemed to find her so interesting. He'd been
married, and she knew very well that women still chased him. He had more experience than any man she'd ever dated. It made her nervous to remember how vulnerable she was with him, how easily he could overrule her and take anything he wanted. She hoped her unease didn't show too much.