was the question, yes.”
Holly grinned. “I think he’s everything that will make Emma nuts. He’s gorgeous, he’s physical, he has that military bearing, an undeniable way with women and he’s brilliant. She’ll like his mind and, independent as she is, she’ll hate the rest. And, for the record, while I don’t agree with your matchmaking schemes, I’ve always thought that Emma needed to let loose and kick up her heels a bit.”
Gilbert laughed. “You’ll help?”
“I didn’t say that. Ryan is Chris’s best friend. But I’ll at least promise not to stand in your way. I do want Emma to have some fun.”
“Thanks, sweetheart.”
“Do you think she’ll ever truly fall in love? She doesn’t want to. I know that much.”
“In that case, perhaps you’re right. I can’t make her fall in love with him, but I can try to make it happen. And anyway, a little excitement never hurt anyone, did it?”
The next day, Gilbert, Chris and Ryan were all clustered around a model spread out on a large table set up in one of the parlors, when Ryan looked up to see Emmaline entering the room.
She had a way of looking around when she walked into a room that told him that very little escaped her notice. Those pretty, intelligent eyes took in everything and made an instant assessment. Those eyes…he’d seen anxiety in them, anger, passion, he noted, letting that sharp kick of desire edge in before he pushed it away. And he’d seen something else. Sadness, longing when she’d mentioned the child she wanted.
He was glad she had said that. He didn’t want a child, could never allow himself to have a child. Benedicts were selfish. He’d seen it, he’d lived it and there was a child he had once almost risked, almost irreparably harmed before he’d realized the damage he was going to inflict if he stayed. He’d left, and nearly hurt the little boy even worse in doing so. He’d been careful of children ever since, very careful not to ever let anyone believe he might be a potential parent. It was good to know that such a great barrier stood between him and the very tempting woman with the sad, serious eyes.
“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,
