Miranda, on the other hand, had obviously concocted a romantic fantasy in her mind about Savannah and Kit, and the hints she dropped were anything but subtle. Savannah was sure that Miranda, too, missed having a father, and wouldn’t mind filling the position with someone famous, glamorous and wealthy.
Savannah wished she could think of an easy way to warn her children not to become too attached to Kit, or to weave too many daydreams about him. They were too young to understand that some dreams simply weren’t meant to come true.
As for Ernestine—well, she seemed to be going out of her way to avoid Kit. Even when she reluctantly invited him for dinner—her deeply-ingrained Southern manners too strong to overcome—she did so without much enthusiasm. Kit accepted, and tried during the meal to charm Ernestine the way he had the rest of the McBride family. He didn’t meet with much success. She was polite, but hardly encouraging.
As interested as Ernestine was in being a social success, Savannah would have thought she would welcome a celebrity into their home, and all the fawning attention that accompanied him. Savannah didn’t quite understand her mother’s wariness where Kit was concerned, unless Ernestinie was simply worried that Savannah would be hurt again by another smoothtalking male. And heaven only knew that Savannah had worried enough about that herself.
Maybe because of Ernestine’s coolness, Kit didn’t linger long after dinner. Once again, Savannah walked him to his car after he bade everyone good-night.
“Your kids seem to like me, but I think your mother wants me to disappear into thin air,” Kit observed dryly when they were alone outside.
Savannah shook her head. “My kids are crazy about you. My mother…well, she’s not always the easiest woman to understand,” she admitted.
“Mmm. I’ve always enjoyed a challenge.”
His determined tone worried her. Did he consider her just another challenge to overcome? Was he the kind who soon grew bored and moved on once he considered himself a victor? Just a grown-up and more experienced version of Vince?
“Savannah.” Kit rested his hands on her shoulders and looked down at her.
She tensed, remembering the way he’d kissed her the night before, the way she’d lost all reason. She couldn’t do that again tonight. She was too aware of those imaginary eyes watching them.
But all he said was, “I want to spend some time alone wi
th you. We need to talk.”
“About what?” she asked warily.
“Everything,” he answered simply. “I want to know everything about you. And maybe there are some things you’d like to know about me.”
There were definitely a few things Savannah wanted to know about Kit. She just wasn’t at all sure she would have the nerve to ask the questions that kept nagging at the back of her mind.
“Will you have dinner with me tomorrow evening? Just the two of us?”
She moistened her lips. “Yes.”
He nodded in satisfaction. He brushed his mouth across hers, then stepped back quickly, as though making an effort to avoid the temptation to linger. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.
Savannah’s heart was pounding when she let herself back into the house. Tomorrow it would be just the two of them. And she wasn’t at all sure she would be able to keep up the emotional barriers she’d been trying so hard to build between them.
BY THE TIME Kit picked Savannah up Sunday evening for their date, she was well ready to get away from her family. Much as she loved them, there were times when they got on her nerves. Today had been one of those times.
The twins had been hyper all afternoon. They’d both expressed disappointment and envy that Savannah intended to dine with Kit without their company.
Again, she worried that they were growing too accustomed to having Kit in their lives. She was terribly afraid that they would be hurt when he moved on—as, of course, he would. Like most mothers, Savannah hated it when her children were hurt.
In case Kit had not already figured it out, she would have to spend tonight convincing him that she was a mother first and a single woman second. She couldn’t chance indulging in behavior that could have repercussions for her children. It was past time she made that perfectly clear.
Savannah didn’t invite Kit in when he rang her doorbell. Instead, she slipped outside and closed the door behind her with a guilty sense of relief.
“You look beautiful,” Kit told her, admiring her sleeveless red dress. On impulse, she’d worn the tropical-flower pin he’d given her on her left shoulder.
“Thank you.” She didn’t bother telling him that he looked fabulous in his black slacks and gray patterned shirt. She figured that was a given. Kit couldn’t look bad no matter what he had on.
She didn’t even want to think about how good he would look without anything on at all. Not if she wanted to carry on a coherent conversation.
Kit waited until they were both belted into his rented car before asking, “What’s wrong, Savannah?”
She tried to keep her expression neutral. “Nothing. Why?”