3

      NIGHT MIGHT HAVE FALLEN over Southern California, but the disappearance of the blazing sun didn’t mean the sizzling temperatures had bothered to follow suit by more than a degree or two. By the time Emily had walked from Drew’s black SUV to the brick steps of her grandmother’s house, her calf-length cotton floral dress was already starting to cling uncomfortably to her back.

      “You really don’t have to do this,” she told Drew, for what had to be the fifth time since he’d returned to the hospital for her. Once she’d bidden her grandmother good-night, Drew had given her a choice: his place or hers. The devil had even tried to blackmail her, threatening to tattle to Grandy about the baby if she refused. His underhanded, and quite effective, tactic had worked like a charm, too. How on earth he’d known she hadn’t uttered a single word about the day’s events to Grandy was beyond her, but not wanting to upset her grandmother had Emily complying without much of a fight. Since she’d already informed the hospital staff they could reach her here if Grandy’s condition should change during the night, she’d reluctantly agreed to let him stay. Not that she expected anything to go wrong. Grandy might be in her twilight years, but the old gal was still as strong, and twice as stubborn, as an ox.

      Drew’s hand settled on her sweaty back as she carefully made her way in the dark to the porch. The tingles chasing up and down her spine like the crazed lights of a pinball machine had nothing whatsoever to do with sexual attraction. No, those little pinpricks of excitement were merely caused by the surprise of an unexpected touch.

      Could have happened to anyone. Uh-huh. That was her story. And dammit, she was sticking to it.

      “Do you have the key?” Drew asked, tugging open the wood-framed screened door.

      Thank heavens she’d only have to suffer his presence until morning, she thought. If the sound of that low, sexy rumble in his voice just asking for a stupid key had the power to put her feminine senses on alert, she hated to think what her reaction would be when he asked her where he’d be sleeping for the night.

      She withdrew Grandy’s key ring from her purse and handed it to Drew. Within seconds, he held the door for her and she walked past him into the cozy and, she noted thankfully, air-conditioned living room. Warm light from the automatic-timed lamp bathed the area with the same welcoming sense of coming home she always experienced whenever she returned for a visit, which hadn’t been nearly often enough in the last couple of years. She’d been busy building her career.

      And for what? she wondered with an unexpected stab of bitterness. Just to receive a pink slip and a somewhat decent severance package that would tide her over for a couple of months before she’d be forced to dig into her savings? A fat lot of good all those long hours had done her.

      While Drew brought in her bags, which they’d left stowed on the porch during her unexpected visit to the emergency room, Emily tried to forget her employment status for the time being. Instead, she breathed in the familiar scents of lemon wax, the faint aroma of cinnamon from the big jar candle resting on the mantel of the small brick fireplace, and something that smelled suspiciously like fresh-baked cookies. Oatmeal-raisin cookies.

      The ancient tole-painted wooden box nestled near the fireplace still housed various cars and trucks hand-crafted by her grandfather for her male cousins and half brother, along with a pair of well-loved baby dolls once shared by her, her half sister and a handful of female Norris cousins. The requisite coloring books and a fat round Christmas tin filled to the brim with crayons of every shade imaginable, now shared by the next generation, rested on top of the pile of toys. A generation, she suddenly realized, that would include her own child in a matter of months.

      She needed time to come to terms with what had happened, which was why she hadn’t yet shared the news with her grandmother. Besides, if the state of disrepair around the property was any indication, Grandy had plenty enough to concern herself with and didn’t need to add worry over her unwed, pregnant granddaughter. Once Grandy was released from the hospital, and Emily assured herself that the time was right—when she had a firm plan in mind on exactly what she was going to do next—she’d tell her grandmother about the baby, about her loss of employment and all about Cheatin’ Charlie. So far, only she and Drew, along with Drew’s brother Cale, knew of her status as mother-to-be. In Emily’s opinion, that was already two too many people.

      The screen door snapped shut, drawing her attention. “Where do you want these?” Drew asked her.

      Her vocal chords refused to function at the sight of all that corded male arm muscle straining with the weight of her suitcases gripped in his large hands. She stared, fascinated.

      “Emily? You’re not going to faint on me again are you?”

      She shook her head, and pointed toward the hallway off the living room.

      “Which room?” he called from the corridor.

      “Second on the left,” she managed to answer. Apparently her capacity for speech worked just fine when she wasn’t staring at him like a loon.

      Her tummy grumbled, reminding her she hadn’t had a thing to eat since her flight.

      She headed into the kitchen in search of sustenance. In the fridge, as she suspected, Grandy had stocked up on Emily’s favorites. She considered a bowl of cottage cheese with fresh sliced strawberries and some dry toast, but didn’t think her self-appointed guardian would consider her choices much by way of a real meal. She dug a little deeper, found some American cheese slices and set them on the counter.

      “Have you eaten?” she asked Drew when he sauntered into the kitchen. She didn’t possess one iota of her grandmother’s culinary gene, but she’d been known to manage just fine with a grilled cheese sandwich and a can of soup. Occasionally. If she was really, really careful.

      “Actually, no.” He pulled a cell phone from the pocket of his trousers. “I thought we could order in. Maybe some Thai or Italian.”

      She appreciated the thought, but wrinkled her nose just the same. Besides, she didn’t trust her stomach with food quite that solid or spicy. “Something a little less exotic, please. How does grilled cheese and a can of soup sound?”

      The sexy tilt of his mouth, combined with the charming glint in his eyes, had her pulse revving all over again. How was it possible for one man to possess so much blatant sexual magnetism? It was a test, she decided. She’d sworn off men and she was being tested by some unseen entity with a wicked sense of humor. Well, she’d never flunked a test in her life, and she wasn’t about to start now. Her life had become a disaster within a twenty-four-hour period. She shouldn’t even be lusting after some guy, no matter how hot and bothered just looking at him made her.

      “Boring,” he said. That way-too-charming smile never wavered.

      He started pressing buttons on his phone then reached for the pad of paper and pen her grandmother kept handy on the counter.

      Emily stepped as close as humanly possible to the open refrigerator, hoping the cool blast of air would quell those hot, hot images spurring to life. A wasteful wish if one ever existed.

      “Would a BLT be exciting enough for you?” Maybe she could even manage to convince him to fry up the bacon since she usually charred the stuff beyond recognition. The beauty of living in New York was that just about anything could be delivered practically every hour of the day, even a BLT. A service she took advantage of plenty on a regular basis.

      While Drew continued to jot down phone numbers, she wondered if Cheatin’ Charlie’s new lady lawyer cooked for him.

      Drew flipped his cell phone shut and slipped it back inside his pocket, then shrugged those incredible line-backer-wide shoulders. “Why not? Want some help?”

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