Enticing Emily (Southern Scandals 3)

He held up his right hand in a gesture of surrender. “Okay. I can take a hint. Thanks again, Emily. I owe you big-time.”

Emily suddenly, and unwillingly, thought of Sam Jennings. What would he say if he heard the chief of police assert that he “owed” her—“big-time”?

Which only proved that she’d allowed Jennings’s rude and unprovoked attack on her yesterday to bother her much more than it should have.

EMILY AND CLAY made and ate pizza together, then followed that by nestling onto the couch with popcorn to watch a Star Wars video—the first one, which they agreed was the best of the three. Emily was amused to learn that Clay could quote whole passages of dialogue.

“How many times have you seen these films?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Millions.”

“And what is it that you like so much about them?”

He looked blank for a moment, then said, “’Cause they’re exciting.”

She supposed that was reason enough for an eight-year-old boy.

“Yes, they are,” she assured him gravely.

Clay rubbed his eyes. “It’s getting kind of late, isn’t it?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Emily made a show of smothering a yawn behind her hand. “Goodness, I’m getting sleepy. Are you?”

“Just a little. Where am I going to sleep?”

“In the bedroom next to mine. The one you liked when you toured the house with your daddy—the one with the window seat?”

Clay’s face brightened. “I remember. I told Daddy I want that to be my room if we move here.”

Again, Emily was aware of that funny little pang at the thought of someone else living in her house. It wasn’t that she couldn’t envision Wade and Clay living here—she simply couldn’t imagine herself not living here.

That was something she was going to have to work on.

Emily sent Clay to brush his teeth and change into pajamas. And then she boosted him into the big bed in the room he’d claimed for his own. He held his stuffed tiger tightly in one arm. Emily tucked the covers carefully around both boy and tiger.

“I’ll leave the night-light on,” she promised, snapping on the tiny light plugged into an outlet on the wall next to the bed. “And if you need me, I’m only one room away. All you have to do is call me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good night, Clay.” She brushed his red hair away from his for

ehead, then couldn’t resist leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Sleep well.”

Two little arms locked around her neck for a warm hug. Soft lips touched her cheek. “Good night, Miss Emily.”

Emily returned the hug, then left the room quickly, a massive lump in her throat.

Wade had accused her of casting a spell on the Davenport males.

It seemed to her that he had that situation all turned around.

SATURDAY MORNING dawned crisp, cool and beautiful. Because Clay said he liked them, Emily made pancakes for breakfast, light and thin, with maple syrup. She served him a small bowl of sliced fruit on the side, along with a big glass of milk.

“This is good,” Clay said, attacking his plate. “Cecilia usually just makes cereal for breakfast. Sometimes we have French toast or oatmeal, but we don’t have pancakes very often. I don’t think Cecilia likes to make them.”

“I’ve heard very nice things about Cecilia,” Emily said, cutting into her own pancakes.

“She’s cool. I don’t think she likes Honoria very much, though. She wants to go back to Atlanta.”