Enticing Emily (Southern Scandals 3)

Emily laughed. She had just read the wording on the guy’s T-shirt. “Happiness is biting my parrot back.” Wade, she suspected, would call it sick. But funny.

“Is your parrot going to ride the Ferris wheel?” Clay asked curiously.

“Oh, yeah. He loves the rides. ’Specially the merry-go-round.”

“What’s his name?”

“Vincent. And I’m Gus. What’s your handle?”

Clay looked confused.

“He means your name,” Emily prompted.

“Oh. My name’s Clay.”

Gus eyed the boy’s face. “Hey, Clay. Did you know you’ve got a fish on your cheek?”

“Well, danged if I don’t,” Clay said, and then gigg

led.

This, Emily thought, was a seriously cute little boy.

Gus was still laughing when he turned to get onto the Ferris wheel with his parrot. Emily and Clay were ushered to the next available seat.

Minutes later they were climbing high in the air. With the safety belt fastened snugly around his waist and Emily’s hand clamped just as tightly on his shoulder, Clay looked down in delight as his father got smaller and smaller below them.

“Daddy looks so little from up here. And look at the cars in the parking lot. They look like my Hot Wheels toys.”

Pleased with the child’s enthusiasm, Emily tried to respond to his excited comments whenever he gave her a chance to speak. To the boy’s further delight, they stopped at the very top of the ride, where the car rocked gently while riders at the bottom were unloaded.

“Look at Daddy,” Clay said, leaning as far over the safety rail as his seat belt and Emily’s hand would let him.

Emily had been watching Wade Davenport since the ride had begun. And she was all too aware that he’d been watching her, too.

Or rather, he’d been watching his son, she corrected herself carefully. Wade certainly had no particular interest in her, other than as a suspect in an embezzlement case. Even if he had—jokingly, she was sure—made a pass at her.

Clay’s painted face was radiant when the ride came to an end. “That was so cool. Thank you, Ms. McBride.”

“You’re very welcome. I enjoyed it, too. And why don’t you call me Emily?” she suggested, feeling as if she’d made a new friend.

“Okay, Miss Emily,” Clay said contentedly, proving that her new friend was most definitely a child of the Old South.

They held hands as they wound their way through the crowds and back to where Wade waited for them. Clay released Emily and dashed to his father’s side, telling him all about how his stomach had fluttered when the ride revolved and how tiny everything had looked from so high in the air.

Wade glanced at Emily with a wry smile. “The boy’s easily entertained.”

“The boy is delightful,” she assured him. “We had a great time.”

“Did you thank Ms. McBride for taking you on the ride?” Wade prompted his son.

“He thanked me very nicely,” Emily answered for the child, who nodded in agreement.

Clay tugged at his father’s hand. “I’m hungry, Daddy.”

“Of course you are. You’re awake, aren’t you?”

Clay rolled his eyes as if he’d heard that response many times before. “Can we get something to eat?”