style="font-size:15px;"> “I know what I want.”
“Let’s try chili right now. If it isn’t cooked beyond the point of being edible.”
“Not at all. Cooker on low, remember? Rosie left us salads in the fridge. I’ll get them before I serve the chili. Want a glass of wine or margarita first?”
She laughed. “I think we’ve done that before. We can’t seem to get past it to dinner.”
“It wasn’t the drinks that interrupted. We’ll try again. Do you want wine?”
“I’ll take the margarita. Maybe this time, I’ll actually drink one.”
He left to mix her drink and she followed him to the bar.
“Before I forget,” he said, “let me go get something that came in the mail earlier.” He set down his bottle of beer and left to return with a large envelope. “Since you like family so much, here are pictures of our half sister’s wedding to Garrett, our CFO and a longtime family friend. Bring your drink and we’ll look at the pictures together.”
She sat down on the sofa, and Zach sat beside her, removing a book of bound pictures from the envelope.
“Garrett has married Sophia, our half sister. We didn’t know we had a half sister until the reading of Dad’s will. You can imagine the shock, particularly to my mother. I thought we might have to call an ambulance and I’m not joking about it. She had no clue. No one could understand my dad. Not any of us, definitely not my mother. I don’t think she even tried. Maybe Sophia’s mother. He never married her, but he kept her in his life until the end.”
“Sounds sad, Zach.”
“Don’t start feeling sorry for me over my dad. All of us wanted Sophia in the family. First, we really wanted her—that should please you. Second—Sophia, as well as all of us, stood to inherit a fortune from Dad if she became involved with the Delaney company. It was his way of forcing us to get her into the family. And forcing her to join us. Sophia was incredibly bitter over Dad and wanted no part of this family.”
“Even though you were her half brothers?”
“That’s where Garrett came in and you can see the results. We all like her and Garrett loves her.”
Emma looked over the photographs. “She’s beautiful and they both look radiantly happy.”
“You’re enough of a romantic to think that no matter what the picture shows.”
Emma stuck her tongue out at him, making him grin.
He looked at her profile while she studied the pictures. Her skin was flawless, her lashes thick and had a slight curl. Locks of red hair spilled onto her shoulders. He set down his beer, took her drink from her hand and then placed it and the book of pictures on the table. He pulled her into his arms to kiss her.
Her mouth was soft, opening like the petals of a rose. Heat spilled in him, centering in his manhood. He couldn’t get enough of her, relishing every luscious curve, her softness sending his temperature soaring. She wrapped her arms around him, kissing him in return, and he forgot dinner again.
By Monday morning a bright sun made snow sparkle and icicles had a steady drip as ice and snow melted. When Emma went to the office she glanced out to see the snowman they had built Sunday afternoon. She had pictures of Zach clowning by the snowman.
Zach had run inside and returned with one of Rosie’s aprons to put on the snowman. He removed the snowman’s hat and placed sprigs of cedar for hair so he had a snow-woman. He posed for a picture with his arms around the snow-woman’s waist and with Zach puckered to give the snow-woman a kiss.
Remembering, she smiled. They had turned the snow-woman back into a snowman because Zach said he needed to return Rosie’s apron. She’d reminded him that he wore that very apron to cook their steaks Saturday nights, a point he’d conceded.
Monday was uneventful except she couldn’t lose the constant awareness she had of Zach. She was getting too close to him, enjoying his company too much. The weekend had brought intimacy and an emotional bonding that she may have been the only one to experience. She thought about the job ending soon and not seeing Zach again, so the problem would resolve itself. In spite of the weekend, it seemed wiser to put the brakes on a relationship. How deeply did she want to get involved with him? They were totally different with different priorities and vastly different lifestyles. The weekend had been magical, but they were shut away into almost a dream world, isolated in the storm on the ranch. She should develop some resistance and keep from sinking deeper into growing close to him. At least she should try. The intimate weekend was over and she should avoid another if she could dredge up the willpower.
That evening she learned that he was having his dinner in the office. Disappointment was coupled with knowledge that she was better off not seeing him. As she filled her plate in the kitchen, she quizzed Rosie about how Zach spent his holidays and received the same version she’d heard from Zach.
“Christmas decorations are in the attic and haven’t been touched in years because it’s been so long since any of the family has been at the ranch at Christmas,” Rosie said. “Nigel used to put them up in case the family came, but he stopped years ago because the Delaneys were rarely at the ranch in December. Actually, this house has been closed most of the time for the past ten years and the foreman runs the ranch.”
Emma picked at her dinner, her focus on Rosie.
Peeling and cutting carrots, Rosie stood at the counter. “When Adam, Zach’s eldest brother, was born, Mrs. Delaney was delighted and gave him her attention. He had a nanny and Nigel and I worked for them in the Dallas home. Back then, they had lots of help. By the time Will was born, Mrs. Delaney was losing interest. When Zach came along she wasn’t happy and she told me herself—no more babies. They had their family.”
“Rosie, that’s awful,” Emma said, thinking how every baby was so welcome in her family. Each birth was a huge celebration.
“That’s the way she was. In those days she and Mr. Delaney were going their separate ways. When she got pregnant with Ryan, Mrs. Delaney had a screaming fit. She didn’t want another child and she made that clear. She had lost interest in her boys.”
“I can’t imagine,” Emma said, deep in thought about Zach.
“No. They were good boys. Adam was eight, Will was seven, Zach, five. She couldn’t wait to get them out of the house and into boarding school. She sent Adam that year. Next year, Will went. Two years later, Zach went.”
“That seems too young to send them away.”
“Zach was never the same. He closed up and shut himself off. As a little fellow, he would hug me and climb into my lap. That all stopped. He was getting too big to get on my lap, but the hugs vanished. He was quieter, more remote.”
“You and Nigel both seem to have a close relationship with him.”
“Zach is nice to work for and I love him like another son, but he keeps his thoughts to himself. Any woman who thinks she’ll come into his
