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“Come look, Emma,” Gilbert said, gazing down at the model. “This model…it’s amazing.”
Chris smiled, as well he should, because these were his ideas.
Emmaline probably already knew that, and to her credit, she nodded and smiled, too. She stared down at the miniature Texas Lights, the new Texas Lights with its curving lines, computerized lobby, its new lighting systems, new…everything. “It’s certainly an impressive model,” she finally said.
Which was the truth, and yet it didn’t really say anything, did it? Ryan noted.
“I’ve heard you’re a genius,” she told Chris.
“Oh, who told you that?”
She fingered one of the sleek new elevators on the model. “Holly.”
Gilbert laughed. “Chris could build something out of alphabet blocks, and my daughter would call it pure genius. Not that this isn’t pure genius,” he amended.
But it wasn’t what Emmaline had hoped for, Ryan could tell. It wasn’t old or odd or out of step with the rest of the world.
He came up behind her. “It’s just a prototype,” he said.
“I know. It’s very inventive,” she tried again, directing her comment toward Chris, who seemed to be satisfied with her conclusion.
But when Holly came to the door and held her arms out, Chris went to her. “Let’s go for a walk in the gardens,” she said. “I’ve been trying on new clothes to make myself beautiful for you, and I’ve missed you horribly.”
Chris looked at Gilbert and Ryan.
“Go,” they both said in unison.
Gilbert laughed. “I have things to do, too. Emmaline, I can see you have questions about the hotel. You and Ryan really need to discuss this and see how you can make it work. Spend some time on it. Take him to the scene of the crime and show him your true love.” He smiled at his niece, walking over to awkwardly pat her on the shoulder. Then he strolled out the door, turning right where Chris and Holly had turned left.
Emmaline stared after him, her pretty eyes narrowed with what looked very much like concern.
“Emma, are you all right?” Ryan asked.
“He seems so sad these days. I think he’s already missing Holly. She’s his only child, you know.”
Which just wasn’t true. Ryan started to remind Emmaline that she was Gilbert’s child as well, but then he realized how presumptuous that would be. Her relationship with her uncle was none of his affair. What did he know of families, after all, considering the examples he had been raised with, his self-absorbed father and his equally self-absorbed string of wives?
He let the moment pass, and the silence settled in like an entity in the room. Suddenly he was aware of the fact that he was completely alone with Emma for the very first time. He breathed in the scent of violets, and immediately wanted to move closer to feel her warmth, maybe even to touch.
What in hell was wrong with him? Hadn’t he received proof enough that she wasn’t for him? “Shall we?” he asked, motioning toward the model, determined to crush any inappropriate thoughts he should have about her. No doubt his body was simply responding to the fact that he would be here without feminine companionship for several weeks. “We’re alone now. You can tell me what you really think.”
Emma took a visible breath, the motion making the cloth on the bosom of her dress rise and fall. She was wearing a brown dress today. Not a pretty shade of brown, either. He remembered that she had been wearing blue the day he met her, a dusky-blue silk blouse that caressed her curves and accented the silvery-gray of her eyes.
“Do you like brown?” he suddenly asked.
Her eyes widened and she put one hand over her chest. Ryan realized that he had been staring at the way the dress camouflaged her breasts.
“Is there something wrong with brown?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.
Again he noted how expressive her eyes were. Not even an ugly dress could disguise that. And she was right, anyway. He had been so indignant that she was hiding her lovely body that he had stepped out of line.
“I’m sorry, Emma. Brown is a fine color. I tend to be a bit too direct at times.”
She looked down, and to his surprise when she glanced up again, she was smiling. Just a small smile, but a smile nonetheless. “It is an ugly dress,” she admitted. “Uncle Gilbert’s sister gave it to me as a Christmas present. I think she thinks of me as some poor creature like Jane Eyre. You know, because Jane Eyre was an orphan? Aunt Ellen is sweet, but even though I’ve never wanted for money, she always gives me a dress every Christmas. I have a few of them in my closet.”
“You kept them even though you don’t like them.”
She held out her hands. “I couldn’t hurt her by giving them away.”
The thought was oddly endearing, even though the dress was still hideous. “It’s…nice of you to wear them to make her feel better. Is she coming here today?”
Immediately Emmaline looked away and twisted her fingers in the cloth of her skirt, like a kid caught in a lie. Ryan knew a lot about how people looked when they lied. His father had been an expert. He wondered what it was that Emmaline was lying about and why she would do that.
“She’s not coming here today. She doesn’t live in this state. I know we should discuss the hotel,” she added, quickly rushing on, “but I need some time to look things over and make some notes. I’m not an impulsive type of person, and I need to study things from every angle and then study my notes some more. I don’t want to rush into anything.”
Because she liked things done the old-fashioned way, slowly. He didn’t dare carry that thought through to how she liked things with a man.
“Emma?” he said.
She looked up at him, those wide gray eyes clear and wary. “Putting off the inevitable won’t stop things from changing. The hotel will be different when we’re done.”
Emma nodded. “I know that. But I want the changes to be right. If we rush into things too quickly…”
“We won’t.”
“If I make a mistake or you make a mistake…”
“I always try not to.”
She shook her head. “The Texas Lights is the most special place in the world to me.”
And yet she lived here in her uncle’s house. Ryan wondered why a hotel would be more special than her home. He studied her closely, wondering what she was thinking, fascinated at the things he was learning about her. Not that any of those things could matter to him.
“I’ll give you what you want for The Texas Lights, Emma. I’ll do right by you.” He meant every word—in a strictly professional sense, but when she looked at him, he realized that he had stepped closer, that heat was sizzling in the air.
“I’ll get to this right away,” she said, her voice slightly strained. “I just have a few quick things to do for Holly. I promised her that I would stop by the kitchen and talk to Mary Beth, our cook. Holly wants to make sure that all of Chris’s favorite foods are on the menu.” Emmaline took a few steps away.
Ryan shook his head. Why was she doing what Holly should have been doing herself?
As if she knew what he was thinking, she lifted her chin defiantly. “Mary Beth needs to be coaxed at times.”
That still didn’t answer his questions. It only raised more, but he wanted to make sure she understood something.
“If you want me to understand any changes you want to make with Chris’s plans, you’re going to have to spend some time with me. It’s necessary.”
She gave him a long stare. “I always do what’s necessary, Ryan.”
He smiled. “Even if you’re wishing me to the devil while you’re doing it?”
She studied him with those big, solemn eyes. “I have no reason to dislike you.”
“And no reason to like me, either. I wonder what you’ve heard about me that makes you look at me that way.”
“What way?” She lifted her chin.
“As if you think I’m wondering what’s under your skirts.”
She froze, turning her head to the side. “I would never imagine that was what you were thinking.”
“Then you’d be wrong. But believe me, I never let my wayward thoughts get in the way of work. Your hotel is my first priority until—”
“Until when?”
“Until the job is done.”
“And then?”
“And then whatever my next job is becomes my top priority. Work is what makes life worth living.”
When she looked up at him this time, her smile was wide and genuine and totally breathtaking. “Yes, exactly. My work is important to me, too. I’ll study Chris’s model as soon as I can and let you know what I think.”
“Tell me what you think now.”
She shook her head. “I told you. I need time to study the situation.”
“First impressions sometimes count more than careful study. You’ll study the model later, but tell me what your first thoughts were when you looked at it.”
She hesitated, sucking in her bottom lip. On a more practiced woman, he would have thought she was trying to entice him. But with Emma, who obviously wished he’d never come here, the movement made him want to groan, to lick the soft skin where her teeth were digging in. He wondered if she had any idea just how alluring that pouty lower lip of hers was. It made a man think of…touching…tasting…devouring that petulant pink mouth.
“Emma,” he said, trying to get her to speak, to take his mind off her mouth.
“I’m thinking,” she argued.
“Don’t think. Talk.”
She looked up at him. “Are you always this bossy?”
“Yes. Are you always this careful?”
“Always,” she said. And he was sure it was true. If he tried to touch her again, what would she do?
He wasn’t going to let himself find out. “Tell me,” he ordered again.
“All right,” Emma said with a sigh, gesturing to Chris’s model. “This is beautiful, astonishingly so, but it’s not The Texas Lights.”
“What makes it different?”
“Well…” She looked at the model’s lobby area where banks of computers were destined to reside. “This looks too modern and efficient.”
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