Strangers When We Meet (5 page)

“Well, I’m sure enough for both of us, Mom,” he said with a smile as he leaned over to brush a fleeting kiss on Emma’s cheek. “I’ve been sure from the moment I laid eyes on her.”

Emma might have been reassured by the sincerity of his tone and the warmth of his hand on hers if she hadn’t flashed back to the scene in the restaurant. He’d been looking at the silvery-haired woman in just that way, and she had gazed at him with the same intensity.

“I need to get back to Twin Oaks,” Emma said, sliding her hand from beneath Daryl’s. “I haven’t even unpacked yet.”

“I thought—” Daryl began, then broke off. “That’s fine. I have some work to finish up at the office this afternoon. I’ll pick you up for dinner at eight.”

She gave Lori a quick hug and waved goodbye to Burt. They made the short trip to Twin Oaks in silence.

“Where do you want to go for dinner?” Daryl asked as he pulled into the shaded parking area along the side of the farmhouse. Emma stared through the branches of the century-old oak that sheltered the house. The leaves were a dozen shades of gold and brown, clinging stubbornly to the branches long after the maples and hickory had shed theirs. “I can get reservations at the country club if you like.”

“Not tonight, Daryl. I’m tired.” She was going to suggest they have tea together at the inn so she could turn in early, but Daryl’s patience was at an end, and he interrupted before she could finish her sentence.

He shifted in his seat, the rich leather upholstery sighing with the movement. He drummed his hand on the steering wheel. “You’re blowing this incident way out of proportion.”

“I don’t know if I am.”

“You’ve been paying too much attention to the women who call your show.”

“What women are those?”

“The ones who always pick losers.”

“The ones with broken hearts because they gave their love to a man who wasn’t trustworthy?”

“No. I mean the ones who can’t see the plain truth in front of their faces. They’re making you gun-shy. I’m no loser, Emma. I love you. I’ll always love you.” He reached out and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “God, I want to kiss you and make love to you and make you forget you ever saw that woman in the restaurant.”

“It’s not that easy.” She wished it was. It would have been if he’d been honest with her from the beginning.

“Saying you love me shouldn’t be hard.” He waited. She couldn’t say she loved him. She wanted to but she couldn’t. Because despite all his reassurances, he still hadn’t admitted he’d lied to her when he’d denied having dinner with that woman, and until he did, she could never be sure anything else he told her was the truth.

* * *

B
LAKE
STOOD
on the deck that overlooked the fields and meadows stretching up the hillside behind Twin Oaks. The night was quiet, as quiet as the nights of his Indiana boyhood, as silent as the deserts of Saudi Arabia or the ravaged Somalian countryside. The stars were high and bright, cold and far away. The scent of fallen leaves and dried grass mixed with the tang of spruce and pine from up the hill, and a chill hung in the air, the harbinger of frost before dawn.

He’d been standing there long enough to notice the chill. Turning up the collar of his worn leather jacket, he faced away from the starlit vista of shapes and shadows, his attention captured by the scene in the inn’s gathering room, just beyond the French doors.

Emma Hart was sitting cross-legged on the floor, playing dominoes with Maureen Cooper’s small twin daughters, Randi and Robin. Blake had met them the evening before when they’d put in an appearance at teatime. He’d avoided tea this afternoon in case Daryl Tubb came by. He didn’t want to be in the same room as the bastard.

The twins were three or three and a half, Blake guessed, sturdy little girls with chestnut hair and blue-green eyes that sparkled with health and mischief. They were well-mannered and well-behaved, but not above wheedling one or two of their uncle Clint’s chocolate chip cookies off a guest’s plate.

The domino game was proceeding with what seemed to be little regard for the rules. There was much laughter and jumping up and down on the twins’ part, and lots of smiles and hugs on Emma’s part. From Blake’s perspective, she looked to be a natural with kids. He bet she wanted a big family of her own, though how he knew that, he couldn’t say. It was something he wanted in life, and had been yet another sticking point with Heather, who thought two kids were more than enough, and then only someday in the distant future.

Finding her naked with Daryl Tubb had been a blessing in disguise.

For him.

But for Emma Hart, it was going to be a heartbreaker.

If she found out, that is.

Should he tell her?

He couldn’t quite see himself in that role. How did you go about breaking a woman’s heart? Over breakfast the next morning, perhaps? Just come out with it? Oh, by the way, that guy you’re with—the one you’re going to marry... Well, the damnedest coincidence. Remember the guy I told you I found my girlfriend naked with? It’s him. Your Daryl. Do you need a little more maple syrup on that griddle cake?

God, how had he gotten himself into such a mess? He supposed if you thought about it, the odds of him meeting up with Emma weren’t as astronomical as they seemed. Cooper’s Corner was a small town, after all. He could accept the chain of events that had brought them into each other’s orbits. She’d met Daryl through her grandparents. He’d met Daryl because he wanted to buy property in the area.

Heather had betrayed Blake with Daryl. Daryl had betrayed Emma with Heather.

And then fate had brought Blake and Emma to Twin Oaks at the same time.

Was he supposed to save Emma from marrying Daryl and getting her heart broken? Because if there was one thing he was sure of in this whole fiasco, it was that Heather wasn’t the first woman Tubb had betrayed Emma with. He was as certain of that as he was of the sun coming up in the east the next morning. And from what he’d seen of the bastard, she damned sure wouldn’t be the last.

Maureen had come to end the domino game and get the twins ready for bed, it seemed. He wondered for a moment what events had led her to leave the city and take up innkeeping in Cooper’s Corners. Had she just grown tired of the rat race, as he was beginning to? Or had there been other reasons behind the move? Whatever the circumstances, she seemed to have made the right choice.

With a smile, he watched the little girls throw their arms around Emma’s neck, nearly knocking her over onto the carpet as they begged and pleaded to be allowed to stay up a little longer. But Maureen was firm, and soon the girls, lower lips trembling just a little, were busily putting the dominoes back in the tin. As they worked, Emma teased and cajoled, and by the time the game was put away, the pouts had disappeared and smiles wreathed the girls’ chubby faces. They each gave Emma a hug and kiss and followed their mother out of the room into the small library, where Blake had noticed the lower shelves were filled with children’s book. They’d obviously cajoled their mother into reading them a bedtime story. Sure enough, a minute or two later they emerged, each clutching a story book in her pudgy hands.

Emma stood up, dusting off the seat of her jeans, and Blake felt himself stir and harden. He felt the same strong pull of attraction he had at their first meeting. An afternoon spent avoiding her company had done little to lessen the intensity. He doubted anything would. Something about her called to him. She was everything in a woman he’d always wanted, strong yet feminine, smart, witty and sure of her own mind. As different from Heather as night from day. Heather’s dalliance with Daryl Tubb had enabled him to break off a relationship that would only have ended in disaster, and for that he was grateful.

But what of Emma? Should he be the one to bring her dreams of a future with Daryl crashing about her ears? She sure as hell wouldn’t want anything to do with Blake after that. He was caught on the horns of a dilemma. Stay silent and watch her get hurt by a man unworthy of her, or tell her of Daryl’s unfaithfulness and be forever connected in her mind with heartbreak and betrayal? It was a no-win situation as far as he was concerned.

Maybe he should just get in his car and head to the city.

But if he did that, it would mean giving up his plan to buy the old McGillicuddy farm. He didn’t think he could stand running into Daryl Tubb whenever he ventured into town—not if the bastard ended up marrying Emma Hart.

CHAPTER FIVE

“I
T
’
S
GOOD
to have you with us again, Emma.”

“Thank you, Father.” Emma shook hands with the minister of Cooper’s Corner’s Episcopal church. “I always enjoy the service.”

“That’s what we like to hear. Come again, soon.” Father Tom Christen smiled and turned to greet the person in line behind Emma, his robe and stole blowing in the breeze coming down off the hills.

“Father Tom’s been a real blessing to the church,” Martha Dorn confided as they paused for her to pull the hood of her all-weather coat over her hair. It was a cool morning, with a bite in the wind but a promise of warmth in the afternoon. Emma took her grandmother’s arm to help her down the steps of the white clapboard church, whose steeple soared into the blue New England sky. “Not that I don’t miss Father Ude, I do. But he was ninety-six, God bless him, and it was his time. And the work was getting to be too much for him. Some people had started to fall away. Now it’s more like the days when your grandfather and I first moved here. Young couples with children, families with teenagers. Enough bodies in the pew every Sunday to resurrect the youth group and start two new Sunday school classes.”

“He certainly has a great rapport with the congregation.”

“And he’s not hard on the eyes, either.”

“Nana,” Emma said, pretending to be shocked. “What a thing to say about your minister.” Privately she agreed with her grandmother. Father Tom wasn’t hard to look at early on a Sunday morning, with his sunshine blond hair and sky blue eyes that twinkled with good humor and compassion.

“I really do enjoy coming to church when I’m here with you.”

“When you and Daryl are married you’ll be able to attend more often, I hope.” Martha looked at Emma as they moved onto the sidewalk and turned toward her grandparents’ home, just a block away. “You are planning to live in Williamstown after the wedding, aren’t you?”

Emma had been dreading this moment but she knew she couldn’t put it off. It was probably better that she tell her grandmother first, and let Martha break the news to her grandfather. He tended to treat Emma as if she were still sixteen, and if he thought Daryl had behaved badly toward her, he wasn’t above picking up the telephone and giving him a piece of his mind. Emma wanted to avoid a scene like that if at all possible.

“There’s something I want to tell you, Nana. Two things actually. About my job. And something else.”

“I’m all ears, dear.” Martha gave her a long, assessing glance. “I have the feeling this isn’t all good news. Am I right?”

Emma nodded. “I’ll tell you about my work later. But first I want you to know Daryl and I aren’t announcing our engagement this week. As a matter of fact, not any time soon.”

“What happened?” Martha’s hand rested on the sleeve of Emma’s sweater.

“I...I saw Daryl having dinner with another woman in a restaurant in the city one night a few weeks ago.”

“I’m assuming she was a business client,” Martha said sharply.

“She was. At least Daryl said she was.”

“And you didn’t believe him?”

“He lied about being in town that night when I first questioned him about it, then he said it was because I had caught him so off balance. And he didn’t want it known that he was meeting his client’s fiancé behind his back, trying to convince her that going through with the deal was in her best interests, as well.”

“I suppose that’s possible.” Martha said, but she couldn’t quite remove all the doubt from her voice.

Emma stopped walking. They were just outside the white picket fence that bounded her grandparents’ property. Sunlight filtered through the branches of the trees lining the sidewalk and fell in dappled patterns on her grandmother’s white hair. “I know it’s possible it happened just that way. I want to believe it’s the truth—”

“But there’s something else besides.”

“Yes.” Emma opened the gate and waited until her grandmother passed through. She shut the gate and lowered the black, wrought-iron latch carefully into place while she sought to put her doubts into words that would convey the depths of her uneasiness. “Beyond the fact that he denied it ever happened, there was something about the way they were sitting there. As though they were the only two people left in the world. Her hand was on his sleeve. She was gazing into his eyes—”

“How was he looking at her?” Martha asked. And of course that was exactly what was bothering Emma.

“The same way. I can’t get that scene out of my mind. I can’t help doubting everything Daryl told me about that night because he was looking at her in exactly the same way.” Emma shrugged, unable to explain her feelings in any clearer terms. “Am I being an idiot, Nana? Should I give him the benefit of the doubt, just forget it ever happened and move on?”

“It’s not like you to be fanciful, Emma. His explanation sounds reasonable, although I must say I’m very disappointed in the way he came to it. Maybe you’ve just been hearing too many sad stories from women on your radio show. Heaven knows, when your grandfather and I are in the city and listen to the program, it seems to me that’s what the majority of the calls you get are about. Love affairs gone bad for this reason or that. A lot of them for things that might not be any more serious than this.”

“You do think I’ve overreacted.” Emma felt a little shiver of dismay. In her heart of hearts she’d been expecting her grandmother to reinforce her argument. But maybe she shouldn’t have made that assumption. After all, Martha and Felix had fallen in love at first sight and never looked back. She probably expected the same certainty from Emma.

“I didn’t say that,” her grandmother said tartly as she opened the front door. It took both hands to twist the brass knob, but Emma didn’t try to do it for her. Her grandmother refused to make any more concessions to her arthritis than absolutely necessary. “Those women with the unhappy love affairs are one thing, but the ones with broken marriages who call you are truly sad cases. I don’t want that to happen to you. I’d rather you were single with no regrets than married with a lifetime of them to deal with.”

“Others would say it was such a small thing. Not important enough to walk away from a relationship.”

“Does your heart tell you that?”

Emma shook her head. “My head tells me that. But my heart tells me differently. My heart tells me if he lied to me about this, he could lie to me about other things. And from now on, every time something happens, I’ll wonder and doubt his word. Trust is essential in a marriage, I believe that very strongly.”

“I said you had a level head on your shoulders. You get that from the Dorns. But you’re also my granddaughter, and the Braintrees make decisions with their hearts as often as their heads. If you don’t trust Daryl Tubb anymore, then I trust your intuition. He may very well be leading you down the garden path. If he is, he’ll have me and your grandfather to answer to. If he isn’t, well then, this will all come out right in the end. You take as long as you need to decide to marry him. And if Lori Tubb starts to pressure you to make up your mind, you just send her over here to me. I’ll soon set her straight.”

“What’s the matter with me, Nana? I love Daryl—” She stopped talking at the sympathetic, knowing look on her grandmother’s face. “Don’t I?”

Martha’s touch on her arm was gentle, and so was her tone. Gentle but firm and full of conviction. “Perhaps that’s the true question you should be asking yourself.”

* * *

“K
EEGAN
, stop raking more leaves into Randi’s pile. It’s your turn to help me,” Robin fussed. “Emma’s not raking fast enough.” The twins were dressed in denim coveralls and long-sleeved T-shirts, one green, one pink, with matching ribbons in their hair. Emma thought they were the cutest little girls she’d ever seen, and felt the familiar stir of longing to have a child of her own. Sometimes she wondered if that soul-deep desire hadn’t had something to do with how quickly she’d fallen in love, or thought she’d fallen in love, with Daryl.

“Hey, I’m raking as fast as I can,” Emma said with a groan.

“Girls just aren’t as good at this. They don’t have the upper-arm strength us guys have. You can look it up.” Clint Cooper’s twelve-year-old son, Keegan, spoke with all the superiority of his sex. He sent a huge rakefull of leaves skimming over the grass into the pile to illustrate his point. A tall, sturdy boy with his dad’s dark chestnut hair and green eyes, he was settling into life in Cooper’s Corner with little difficulty, and Emma knew from her grandmother that it was a relief to both Clint and Maureen that he was doing so well. The first time or two Emma had met him, in the spring before the B and B was opened, she’d had the suspicion he’d like to do some matchmaking between her and Clint. But then she’d met Daryl, and Keegan had abandoned the effort.

“Them’s fightin’ words, pardner,” Emma said. “I take that as a personal challenge to my sex.”

“This looks like the perfect activity for a beautiful autumn afternoon,” Blake Weston called from the deck. “Sunshine, blue sky, the Patriots playing the Ravens on the radio and healthy exercise.”

“The exercise part is starting to get to me,” Emma said, a little breathless from trying to keep up with Keegan’s energetic raking—and, she had to admit, from the sight of Blake Weston standing tall and tanned against the achingly blue New England sky.

“Stop talking and rake,” Robin interrupted. “I want to be able to jump into a great big pile of leaves.”

“Mine’s still too small.” Randi regarded her pile with dismay. “I’ll hurt myself if I jump into this one. Hurry, Emma, we have to rake faster. Keegan’s helping Robin too much.”

“I’m raking as fast as I can.” Emma laughed, giving her taskmaster’s pigtail a tug.

“What if I help you ladies rake all the leaves into one big pile?” Blake offered.

Emma leaned on her rake and looked at him. He was wearing a black pullover and snug, faded jeans that looked as if he’d had them for years. The midday sun picked out gold highlights in his dark brown hair.

“A really big pile,” Randi and Robin chorused in unison, jumping up and down, pigtails flying.

“I’m not doing this just for the kids, Weston. I want a pile big enough for me to jump into. So grab a rake and put your money where your mouth is,” she said, rushing her words a little. He looked good enough to eat, standing there, one hip resting on the deck railing. And she could think of all kinds of places she’d like him to put his mouth. She turned the direction of her thoughts hurriedly away from the visions she’d conjured in her mind. What had gotten into her? She never had that kind of lascivious thoughts about Daryl and the things they could do in the darkness and privacy of the night.

He vaulted the deck railing in one smooth, easy motion. Emma watched with her heart in her throat, and Keegan gave an appreciative whistle. “Not bad,” he said, pumping his fist in the air. “Not bad.”

Certainly not the moves she’d expect from a Wall Street financier, but then she remembered he had grown up on a farm and been a Marine.

His wristwatch and running shoes were expensive, but his jeans had probably been new when he left the Marines, and he drove a pickup—not very practical for the city, but not as pricey as an SUV. He had money, but he spent it wisely. She liked that in a man, too. He didn’t look out of place raking leaves and playing with children in the back yard of a New England farmhouse. In fact, he looked just right. She could imagine Keegan and the twins as his—as hers. Once more her unguarded thoughts had led her into unacceptable realms, and she vowed not let it happen again. She attacked the carpet of oak leaves with renewed vigor.

Robin handed Blake her rake and started tossing handfuls of leaves on the pile. “You’re bigger. You can do it better than me.” Her sister watched in silence for a couple of minutes and then set her rake against a tree trunk and began to do the same thing. Everyone worked in earnest, and in five minutes they had a truly impressive waist-high pyramid of brown and gold leaves.

The twins dived in head first with whoops and hollers that echoed into the hills, and came up looking like denim-clad wood sprites with red maple and yellow oak clinging to their auburn hair.

“You too, Emma.”

Emma propped her rake against an Adirondack chair and let herself fall backward into the pile. She came up laughing and brushing leaves from her hair and the front of her dark purple sweater.

“You look like you’re having as much fun as the twins,” Blake said, leaning on his rake.

“Second childhood.” Emma felt color steal into her cheeks. She bet the women he was used to being around in Manhattan never jumped into a pile of oak leaves. Certainly not if they were like the polished and sleek woman she had seen with Daryl that night at the restaurant. Or, from what little Blake had said about her, the beauty who had broken his heart.

“Let’s cover Emma all up,” Randi said in a stage whisper that carried halfway to the village.

“Yeah.” Her sister in crime giggled. “Cover her aw up. So you can’t see anything at aw.”

“Hey, you little monsters know you’re not supposed to do things like that to paying guests,” Keegan warned, but his green eyes sparkled with gleeful anticipation.

Blake had much the same expression on his face, but the look in his eyes was darker, more determined and far more exciting. Emma felt her breath catch in her throat.

“Oh, no, you don’t. I have allergies. I’ll be sneezing for days.”

“You’re just saying that,” Keegan accused her. “You don’t have allergies, do you?” Disappointment was writ large on the faces of all three young Coopers.

“All right.” Emma laughed, scrambling to her knees as she looked around for the nearest escape route. “I don’t have allergies but I’m not giving up without a fight.” She pulled Randi close and tickled her belly. Laughing, the little girl wiggled away, scattering leaves in all directions.

“Get her, Keegan. Help us, Mr. Weston,” she squealed. “She—”

“She’s a wicked witch in disguise. Oh, help! Save us,” Robin begged, laughing delightedly as she got caught up in the spirit of the game.