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Actually, she’d been thrilled, seeing a home as something different, and as a challenge. At the moment, with Sally glaring at her, she was beginning to rue the day she’d taken the job.
Dammit, the supplier had told her just yesterday the plants she’d ordered would be in. So far, that hadn’t come to fruition. She’d called other suppliers, but none could fill her need. To make matters worse, Sally was having a big open house to show off her new mansion, which put that much more pressure on Emma.
“Sally, go back inside and do whatever it is you do,” Emma said into the hostile silence, “and let me handle things on this end.” She paused and forced a smile. “Please.”
Sally was having no part of Emma’s smile; that was apparent by the tightening of her lips. “You’re my friend, Emma. You of all people, I thought I could count on.”
“You can.” Emma’s tone was terse. “Again, just leave me alone and let me do my job. Everything will be all right.”
“It had better be.”
With that, Sally flounced around and marched back into the mansion, slamming the door behind her. Emma breathed for the first time since she’d been accosted by her friend and client, then reached for her cell phone and dialed her main supplier.
“Fred, this is—”
“I know who it is.”
“Have my plants come in yet?”
“Yes, praise the Lord.”
Emma wilted on the spot, the relief washing through her was so acute.
“Thank you, Fred.”
“Don’t thank me.”
“Why not?”
“Thank Bubba McBride. He’s the one responsible.”
“Oh?” she said inanely, her heart pounding slightly harder, which was crazy. Even the man’s name had an effect on her. This foolishness had to come to an end.
“He volunteered to go after them, and I told him to hit the road.”
Following another deep, settling breath, Emma said, “When do you expect him back?”
“He’s on his way to the estate, even as we speak.”
“I owe you, Fred. And Bubba,” she emphasized before snapping her cell shut.
It was then that she heard the squeal of brakes. Whipping around, she watched Bubba bound out of the truck and saunter toward her. She tried not to react to his dark, menacing good looks, but nothing short of another miracle would’ve stopped that.
At the moment, she was fresh out of miracles.
“Hiya,” he said in that low, sexy voice that scraped across her skin like fingernails over a chalkboard. Emma shivered. And that look in his eyes—she couldn’t ignore that either.
For a moment, she stiffened under that gaze, more potent than the sun bearing down on her head. Then her sanity came to her rescue. No matter how captivating he might be—and she couldn’t deny that he was—she wasn’t interested.
Then why was she fixated on the width of his muscled shoulders and the span of his six-pack abs? She dared not look any farther south, already knowing the power he packed there.
“Hi yourself,” she responded but not before swallowing hard, feeling suddenly like a teenager meeting a new beau. God, how corny—and ridiculous. She was a grown woman with a child. Where were her good sense and her pride?
Pulling herself together, Emma wiped the answering smile off her face and said in her most businesslike tone, “I spoke to Fred and he told me what you did. Thanks a lot.”
A mocking smile answered her formality, which merely added to that sexiness he wore like a second skin. And those dimples, they were definitely bad on a woman who was trying to keep her heart out of the equation.
“You’re welcome,” he said, that mocking smile still intact.
“Okay, so you saved my rear,” she added with more punch.
“Glad I could oblige. Now, shall we get down to work?”
Emma gave him a startled look. “I have a crew, Bubba. Besides, I’m sure you have other deliveries to make.”
“Not this afternoon. So put me to work, and we’ll get this job done.”
Though Emma was tempted to argue, she refrained. One thing, another pair of hands would help, and she wanted his company. Hold it, girl, she warned. She was headed for deep waters and if she was not careful, she’d drown. Still…
“Tell me what you want me to do,” Bubba said, jerking her mind back to the moment at hand. “And we’ll have this job done before you can spell Rumpelstiltskin.”
She laughed then. “That’s where you’re wrong. I have a child, remember?”
“Ah, right, you do,” he responded, his tone becoming serious. Then, before anything else could be said, he turned and went about the task of unloading the plants.
A little past mid-afternoon, the biggest part of the grounds were planted. Emma couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this exhausted. Usually, she only supervised, letting her crew do the manual labor. But since Bubba was working like a field hand, she pitched in and did her share of digging and planting.
Surprisingly, she’d enjoyed every minute of it. She’d forgotten how much fun it was to dig in the dirt.
“So, what do you think?” Bubba asked, sidling up to her while wiping the sweat off his face with a handkerchief from the back pocket of his cutoffs. Although he smelled sweaty, he wasn’t offensive. In fact, she ached to reach for the rag and blot the sweat off herself. Emma cringed at her thoughts.
The effect this man had on her was uncanny and just plain unnerving.
“Well?” he pressed when she didn’t answer.
“It looks awesome, and I can’t thank you enough.”
“Sure you can.”
“How?” she asked before she thought.
“Let me fix you a glass of the best lemonade you’ve ever drunk.” He paused. “At my place.”
“Look, I can’t, really. I have to pick up Logan from the daycare.”
“He can come, too. Children like lemonade.”
She gave him a look. “I don’t—”
“Please,” he said in a cajoling tone. “It’s been a long, hot day. We both need a treat.” He paused and gave her another one of those heart-stopping smiles. “What can it hurt?”
Nothing, except to get me all rattled inside for no good end, Emma thought.
“All right, I’m game,” she finally said, ignoring her conscience and knowing, too, she would probably regret this outing.
What the heck? She hadn’t been attracted to a man in a long time and while she knew nothing would ever come of the two of them, it might be fun to test the waters. Just because she suddenly wanted to enjoy a male’s company didn’t make her into a man-lover like her sister. She just needed to chill.
Thirty minutes later, after they had swapped trucks and picked up Logan, they were headed toward the outskirts of town. “So where are we going?” she asked, feeling a bit uneasy.
“To my place.”
Her stomach somersaulted. “And where is that?”
“It’s not much farther.”
At least Logan was quiet, sleeping in her arms after long hours at the daycare—one that believed in working their little bodies as well as their little minds. Logan attended three days a week, which she thought was ample. She didn’t want to be away from him more than that.
“He seems to be such a good kid.”
“He is.” Emma smiled. “The best.”
“Here we are,” Bubba said, before turning onto a blacktop road that eventually led to a small cabin surrounded by some of the biggest and most beautiful oak trees she’d ever seen. Her breath caught at the splendor before her.
“Hey, this is awesome,” she exclaimed, facing his profile. That was when she saw a bead of sweat dribble down the exposed cheek. She literally fought the urge to lick it off.
Horrified yet again at her wanton thoughts, Emma jerked her eyes off him, but not before she felt her face turn crimson. Thank God he couldn’t read her mind, or she’d be in deeper trouble than she already was.
Reality. She should not have come.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’m harmless.”
She jerked back around and knew her face was still crimson. No way could he not see that. “I would hope so,” she snapped.
The corners of his lips merely twitched, then he said, “Come on, let’s go in.”
Once inside, he headed straight for what she figured was the guest bedroom. She followed. There he reached for the still-sleeping baby and placed him in the middle of the bed. While she looked on in speechless wonder, he placed pillows on either side of the child.
“There,” he said, turning to Emma. “How’d I do?”
“Great,” she responded, feeling rather helpless. This man was something else.
Moments later they were in the bright and airy kitchen. “Have a seat at the bar,” he said, “while I whip up the lemonade.”
Still feeling like a fish out of water, something foreign to her, Emma did as she was told.
Soon they were sipping the sweet/tart liquid out of frosty mugs, listening to the birds outside sing. For a moment, Emma felt as though she was in another world. The country was something she didn’t have much use for, always having been a curb-and-gutter girl. But gosh, she couldn’t deny how nice it was here, especially when she looked out over a huge pond spotted with white ducks.
Logan would love watching them. Thinking of the child, she slipped off the bar stool and said, “I’ll be right back. I’m going to check on my baby.”
“I assume he’s still sleeping,” Bubba said when she took her place beside him seconds later.
She nodded with a smile. “Out like a light, in fact. They wore his little tush out at daycare.”
“So how often do you put him there? Every day?”
“Oh, no. I wouldn’t dream of that. I have full-time help at the nursery, which makes it possible for me to stay home with him some days.”
“So the daycare’s kind of optional?”
“You might say that.”
He smiled before taking another sip of his lemonade.
She cut him a glance, more curious than ever about a man who drove a plant truck but owned a spread like this. The two simply didn’t jive.
“What about you?” She noticed him stiffen, upping her curiosity.
“What about me?”
Emma shrugged. “For starters, are you married?” She couldn’t believe she’d asked that, especially since it wasn’t any of her business.
“No. But that should be a given since you’re here with me.”
“You never know,” she said more to herself than to him.
“I could ask you that same question.”
“You know I’m not married,” she said with an unexpected sharpness.
“No, not really.”
“Well, I’m not,” she declared.
A silence followed during which she felt his eyes appraise her as though trying to figure out what was going on inside her head. In doing that, he didn’t bother to hide the fire that sprang into his eyes.
Out of self-defense, Emma avoided further eye contact, then asked, “Have you ever been married?” she pressed, mostly because he seemed so reluctant to answer that question.
His lips tightened, forming a straight line. “Once.”
“I see.”
“I doubt that, but it’s okay. It’s something I don’t like to talk about.”
“Most men don’t.” Emma couldn’t quite keep the sarcasm out of her voice.
His eyebrows kicked up. “Ouch.”
She grinned. “Sorry, that was uncalled for.”
Another silence, then he asked, “How do you like your lemonade?”
“It’s the best.”
“Good.”
Emma cast him another glance. “You haven’t always driven a plant truck, have you?”
He sighed. “You don’t give up, do you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said with faked innocence.
“Sure,” he muttered with a down-turned mouth.
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