Enticing Emily (Southern Scandals 3)

Bob was about as subtle as a sledgehammer. Even if she wanted to be “fixed up” with Wade—which she assuredly did not—she wouldn’t want Bob having anything to do with it.

She spoke coolly, determined to squelch this before it went any further. “I’m sure Wade is anxious to get home to his son. And I have things I have to do at home this evening. I won’t be able to join you for the pizza party.”

“No, really, Emily. He seems like a nice guy. He’s available. There aren’t a whole lot of single men our age in Honoria, especially now that Carl Evans and I have both gotten paired off. You ought to think about it.”

“Bob, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of my own social life,” she replied stiffly. “Please don’t say anything more about it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to join the others in the lobby.”

She stalked away from him without another word, easily negotiating the dark corridors that led back to the lobby. She’d been through them enough to know her way by now.

She wondered why on earth everyone in town suddenly seemed to have decided that she and Wade belonged together.

They couldn’t be more wrong, of course.

8

NOVEMBER SWEPT into Honoria with a line of thunder-storms that rattled windows, battered the remaining leaves off the trees, and drove the townspeople indoors for hot drinks and long evenings of television and conversation. The haunted house had been a great success, but a thoroughly exhausting one. Emily was relieved that it was over, though she’d had a great time scaring most of the teenagers and many of the adults of the surrounding communities.

Wade’s offer on Emily’s house had been made and accepted. Once his loan had been approved and all the formalities of transferring property from one owner to another had been completed, the house and land would belong to him. Emily thought it should all be finalized by the end of the month. He’d leased his current house through the end of the year, so she had until then to move out.

It gave her a funny feeling to realize that by January, she would basically be homeless.

She reminded herself yet again that this had been her choice.

By the third wet, stormy day in a row—a Thursday—tempers in town began to fray. Emily noticed it at the bank, where her customers with their frizzy, damp hair and water-spotted clothes demonstrated considerably less patience than usual. She had to make a special effort to maintain her own, and she felt that her smile grew increasingly strained as the day went on. She was relieved when the workday ended and she was free to go home.

She had driven all of three blocks when she remembered that she had used the last scrap of her last bar of soap that morning in the shower. She groaned, and wo

ndered half-seriously for a moment if she could just use dishwashing detergent in the morning. Which only reminded her that she was out of that, too.

She sighed. “Looks like I’m going to have to get wet,” she muttered, and pulled into the crowded parking lot of the town’s sole discount store. After circling futilely in search of a parking space dose to the door, she parked some distance away, pulling an umbrella from the back seat. The rain was coming down in torrents, and she didn’t expect the umbrella to accomplish much, but it was better than nothing.

She dashed through the downpour, protecting her head as much as possible, ruefully aware that the hems of her dark slacks were getting soaked. Cold water seeped through the thin leather of her shoes, chilling her from the toes up. What a rotten afternoon, she thought morosely.

She made her selections quickly, gathering only what she needed for the next day, since she didn’t want to carry too much through the rain. And then she rounded the end of an aisle and nearly ran smack into Sam Jennings, whom she hadn’t seen since he’d made his accusations several weeks earlier.

Jennings stepped back quickly to keep her from barreling into him. “Hey, watch where you’re going.”

Emily had thrown out a hand to steady herself against him, clutching automatically at his arm. Her heavy gold bracelet clinked as she quickly drew away, not wanting to touch him any more than necessary. The sound drew his attention and his scowl deepened. Emily couldn’t imagine why the sight of her bracelet always seemed to enrage him.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Jennings,” she said, making an effort to be cordial. “I didn’t see you.”

“Hmmph.”

She supposed that was as close as he would come to accepting her apology.

“Excuse me.” She stepped sideways to move around him.

“I hear you and the police chief are seeing a lot of each other these days. Guess I know now why he was so anxious to clear you of any involvement in the theft of my money.”

Jennings’s sarcastic words stopped Emily in her tracks. “I beg your pardon?” she asked, turning again to face him.

He shrugged. “You didn’t do it, I believe that now. All I’m saying is that if you had, I’m not so sure the chief would have done anything about it. But then, you McBrides are used to that sort of special treatment by the local authorities, aren’t you? After all, your brother got away with murder.”

“Why, you—”

Emily had to force herself not to give in to sheer instinct and slap the arrogant look right off Sam Jennings’s florid face. But she had no intention of letting his ugly words go unchallenged.

She took a step toward him, letting the full extent of her anger show in her expression. She had the satisfaction of seeing some of the cocky arrogance leave his face as he took an involuntary step backward.