Enticing Emily (Southern Scandals 3)

Emily briefly considered warning Wade about the woman—and then she shook her head, telling herself not to be silly. Wade Davenport was certainly capable of taking care of himself where women were concerned. And it was none of Emily’s business, anyway.

She was acting as if she was jealous that Leslie Anne had practically draped herself all over Wade. And that, of course, was ridiculous. Emily had no reason at all to be jealous over Wade Davenport.

WADE WATCHED Emily during the meeting. He tried to be discreet about it, but he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes from turning her direction. She looked so pretty in a soft, pale green sweater that seemed designed for touching. Though he’d attempted to put her out of his mind since their meeting at the sandwich shop, he hadn’t been particularly successful.

Seeing her this evening—and reacting to her as he did—reminded him why.

He winced a little as he thought of her joke that she was unable to say “no.” She’d had no problem doing so with him. But

he could see how much trouble she had resisting the club members, who seemed determined to make her chairwoman of their put-together-at-the-last-possible-minute haunted-house project. By the time the meeting ended, Emily had managed to refuse that position, but still agreed to help. Wade suspected that she would be doing most of the work, since few others in the group of approximately thirty people seemed to have any trouble making excuses.

It occurred to him that nearly every time he’d seen her, she’d been doing something for others. Dog-sitting. Painting faces and judging a baking contest. Taking his son on a Ferris-wheel ride. Helping with this project. Since he’d been seen with her at the festival, several people had described her to him as a young woman with a big heart and an overdeveloped social conscience.

While Wade admired her generosity, he wondered how much of it had been influenced by the unhappy family history he’d heard about Deserted at a very young age by her mother. Later abandoned by her older brother. Left alone to care for her father during his lengthy illness. Had she become a “people pleaser” because of that background?

He thought of her rather vague plans to leave Honoria, to find a life for herself somewhere else. He supposed he could understand that she would be ready to stop living for everyone else and start taking care of Emily. He even understood the urge to get away from what she knew and try to find happiness somewhere else. After all, hadn’t that been exactly what he’d been doing when he’d left the bustle of Atlanta for quiet little Honoria?

He couldn’t help wondering, though, if Emily would find out the hard way that real peace came from within, not from outward surroundings. It was a lesson Wade himself was still trying to learn.

“So, do you think you can help us out any with the haunted house, Chief Davenport?” The man who asked was thin, except for a slight pudge above his belt, and had a premature bald spot developing at the back of his head. Wade thought his name was Arnie something-or-other, and that he owned a small convenience store at the west end of Main Street.

“I don’t have much spare time to commit to the project,” Wade answered, unwilling to sacrifice any more of the hours he was able to spend with his son. “But I’ll make sure you have plenty of security for the event. Sometimes crowds get out of hand at this sort of attraction.”

His promise apparently satisfied the members of the dub, who all nodded contentedly. Wade could tell they didn’t expect any real trouble with their project. Any group that put together a haunted house in Atlanta would have considered security one of the first priorities, he thought with a slight smile.

Wade managed to find a place by the door so that he just happened to be in a position to walk Emily to her car. Even as he fell into step beside her, he felt uncomfortably like a teenager hanging around the locker of the cheerleader he had a crush on, hoping she would notice him. Pushing that sheepish analogy to the back of his mind, he cleared his throat.

“Interesting meeting.”

Emily groaned softly and glanced around to make sure no one could hear her. “I can’t believe they think they’re going to pull all this together in less than three weeks.”

“You don’t think it can be done?”

“Oh, sure, it can be done. If someone is willing to work her fingers off.”

Her dry tone let Wade know exactly who Emily expected to be doing all that work. “You could have always said no,” he suggested.

She smiled wryly and shook her head. “You’re forgetting about my speech impediment. That word just won’t seem to come out of my mouth—especially when others hint that there will be no toys for toddlers this Christmas if I don’t help with this project.”

“Sucker.”

She chuckled in response to his teasing tone. “That’s me.”

“You have a kind heart, Emily McBride,” he said, sobering. “That’s nothing to apologize for.”

He thought she might have blushed a little, though it was hard to tell in the artificial lighting of the parking lot. She changed the subject. “I understand you’re coming to look at my house Saturday morning with your Realtor.”

“Yes. She assured me that would be a convenient time for you.”

“Of course.” They had reached her car. Emily slid her key into the lock and glanced at Wade over her shoulder. “Well...good night, Wade.”

The security lamp above and behind him illuminated her face, highlighting her blond curls, gleaming softly in her blue eyes, making her mouth glisten.

Her mouth. Wade found himself staring at her lips, at the tiny dimple at the right corner, imagining the feel and taste of her.

He wanted to kiss her. Wanted it so badly that he felt a fine tremor run through him as he worked to resist the urge.

Damn. What was happening here? When was the last time any woman had made his hands shake?