be required, after all. She didn’t even rate a thank-you for the past two years.
She read it through twice, sure she’d misunderstood. She’d been teaching at Benderhoff steadily. Her work had always been more than satisfactory, or so she’d been told at each review period. Telling herself not to panic, she went into the kitchen and yanked out her telephone directory. She found the home number of Emil Craddock, the headmaster of Benderhoff and dialed it with a shaking finger. They wouldn’t do this to her. They couldn’t.
But five minutes later she hung up again, knowing that they had. She paced. She added numbers in her head. She thought of ways she could get by without the money—the rather good money—she’d earned at Benderhoff.
She finally pulled out her sofa bed, lay down with Chandler beside her and tried to make herself sleep while he slept. But sleep didn’t come. All she could remember was growing up in Dooley, getting her clothing secondhand from the rummage sales at church, doing the grocery shopping with her two older sisters, following their mama’s list to the letter because they had to pay with food stamps and only certain things were eligible.
At four o’clock in the morning Emma finally climbed out of bed and retrieved the business card from the table. She turned on the light in the kitchen and, heedless of the hour, reached for the phone, dialing hurriedly, before she lost her nerve. It rang only twice. Then Kyle’s voice, husky and deep, answered.
She swallowed, but the enormous knot in her throat didn’t go away. “Is your offer still on the table?”
“You know it is, Emma.”
She drew in a short breath. “Then I accept. I’ll pretend to be your wife until your business deal goes through.”
“I’ll be at your place in a couple of hours.”
A tear leaked from the corner of her tightly closed eyes. She was grateful that he didn’t express any undue pleasure or satisfaction. That his voice was as steady and sure as ever. “We’ll be ready,” she said.
Then she hung up and went to pack her clothes and Chandler’s stretchy little sleepers and diapers. They were the easy things.
She couldn’t help thinking, though, that she was also packing away her honesty. And that wasn’t easy at all.
Chapter Four
“This is everything?”
Emma rubbed her hand over Chandler’s back. She focused on the suitcases she’d left sitting in the center of her apartment. Kyle was picking them up with ease. “For now,” she replied.
He glanced over his shoulder at her, one eyebrow raised. “If there’s more, we might as well take them.”
“It’s just winter clothes and things that won’t fit Chandler for months yet.” By then, Kyle’s need for a wife would be past and she and her son would be back home. Her life would return to normal, and all that would remain to remind her of this time would be the knowledge that she’d had a price, after all.
“If you’re sure.”
She nodded, even though she wasn’t sure of anything, particularly with Kyle standing there with her discount-store suitcases tucked under his arms. They surely did clash with his Rolex watch, she thought.
Chandler squirmed and made a noise, and she pressed her lips to his head, cradling him closely. She stepped out of the way so that Kyle could go out the doorway, then she followed him, picking up Chandler’s diaper bag.
“Leave it,” Kyle said. “I’ll come back for it.”
The bag was stuffed to the gills with diapers and wipes and powder and lotion. It shouldn’t have weighed a ton, but it felt as if it did. She reluctantly left it sitting on the end table by the daisies and carefully descended the stairs. Kyle had stored the suitcases in the trunk and was waiting by the open passenger door.
Emma looked from his sleek black car to her sturdy orange sedan—ancient and built like a tank. “I should follow you. Then I’ll have my car and—”
“It would be better if you left your car here,” he said smoothly. “I’ve got a second vehicle at home that you can use to your heart’s content.”
Her stomach clenched uncomfortably, and she kept the rest of her suggestion to herself: that she could fit Chandler’s bassinet easily into her back seat. He probably figured her old car was too much of an eyesore for the rarefied atmosphere of his neighborhood.
Well, Emma Valentine, you’ve made your bed… She could almost hear her mother’s voice.
“I’ve already moved Chandler’s seat into the back seat of my car. Can you get him into it, or would you like me to?”
“I will.” She didn’t look at him as he placed his hand on the top of the open door, waiting. But she couldn’t help noticing the sprinkling of dark hair on burnished skin, taut tendons and strong, well-groomed hands.
Reaching into the narrow rear of his car was awkward, but she managed to get Chandler into the seat and fasten the harness. He slept through the whole process, but Emma felt positively out of breath by the time she straightened.
Kyle caught her elbow when she swayed. “You okay?”
She nodded and slid herself into the passenger side. A sinfully soft leather seat cradled her like loving arms. She gathered in the trailing hem of her ankle-length broomstick skirt, and Kyle pushed the door closed before heading up the steps again. She heard the slap of her wooden screen door and in moments he reappeared with the diaper bag.
He strode around to the driver’s side and set the bag in the back next to Chandler, then slid behind the wheel with an ease Emma couldn’t help but envy.
The engine came to life with a low throaty growl, and he backed away from the garage, her apartment, her car and her hold on reality.
She bit her lip, turning her eyes away from the sight. It was a gray dawn, and Penny’s house was still dark. She hadn’t even told her what she was doing. She’d have to call her. Make some type of explanation.
Kyle shifted gears, and when his hand inadvertently brushed her thigh, Emma jerked. He glanced at her without comment as he drove out of the alley onto the morning-quiet street.
Emma swallowed, the silence in the car weighing her down. She stared out the side window as they passed the diner and headed east. She wasn’t surprised. Naturally a man like Kyle would have his home in the wealthier section of town. Eastridge. She’d once had hazy dreams of living in one of the sparkling new homes with a three-car garage and a pool out back. Living in one of the homes as Jeremy’s wife.
They drove through the exclusive area. Passed the discreet sign that directed individuals to the outstanding Benderhoff facility. She stifled a sigh and looked over her shoulder at Chandler.
“We’ll be there in a few minutes,” Kyle said.
Emma nodded, and surreptitiously rubbed her palms down her thighs.
“Baxter will probably have breakfast waiting. I’ve got to go to the airport for a while. A few hours. But then I’ll
