From the Heart: Romance, Mystery and Suspense a collection for everyone (10 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

A small hand nudged Emily. But Emily tucked the warm duvet higher under her chin, in her warm cocoon. She struggled to open her sleepy eyes searching out the bedside clock
; the red numbers flashed 6:10 a.m. For a moment her heart felt like it expanded two sizes in her chest. She bolted upright, throwing back the covers and jumped from bed. How could she have overslept? She cursed under her breath at her own stupidity; she’d forgotten in her funk of self-pity to turn on her alarm. You idiot. She’d never relied on it anyway, as she usually was awake at five a.m. But last night—well—what could she say? Talk about leapfrogging right over moral boundaries.

Emily dressed in yesterday’s jeans and pulled on a fresh shirt she yanked from her five-drawer dresser. Why didn’t Brad wake me?

Emily pushed back her tangled hair and she noticed her door had been pulled closed. And piled on the overstuffed chair beside the door were her shoes, sweater and under things she’d left sprawled on Brad’s bedroom floor. Emily groaned as she pressed her hands over both warm cheeks.

“Mama, hungry.” Katy bounced on top of the bed in her pink ladybug pajamas.

“Okay, I know Katy, just let me finish.”

Emily pulled a brush through her hair, yanking at the tangles a little harder than she needed. Then tied it back
, and was downstairs with Katy a few minutes later. She plopped Katy on the couch with her baby blanket and flicked on the television. “You watch Treehouse, I’ll make breakfast.”

Emily darted around the corner into the kitchen, slamming into the solid wall of a man’s chest. Brad squeezed her shoulders and Emily felt her cheeks burn when she looked up into the mysterious eyes that appeared to brighten in the light of day. “I’m sorry Brad, I overslept, I
--”

He rubbed her shoulders in a familiar kind sort of way. “Don’t worry, Em. I didn’t wake you, I thought you needed the sleep. The coffee’s already made. We’ll be back, in about half an hour. Is that enough time for you to fix something?”

He was being kind—no generous. And Emily was being a flustered, stuttering idiot unable to jumpstart her tongue. “No… I mean, yes it is. Thanks. Sorry.” She winced and squeezed her eyes shut. But when she opened them, he hadn’t moved, even though he dropped his hand and no longer touched her.

He watched her with this magical twinkle sparkling in those all
-seeing eyes, turning Emily’s insides to jelly. She’d no clue to what he was thinking. Did he regret what happened between them? That would be the worst; she wanted to ask, but was scared of what his answer might be.

Brad ran the back of his hand over her cheek. He paused; he studied, then dropped his hand and strode away. A man with a purpose.

It was instinctive to cover his imprint with her hand.

“Mama, hungry.”

Come on girl, back to reality. “Ah Katy, just give me a minute.” She rushed to the fridge, and took out two dozen eggs. Kicking the door of the fridge closed behind her. In record time, she’d whipped up scrambled eggs and toast. She was just seating Katy when Brad, Cliff and Mac tromped in the back door, stomping the mud off their boots, discussing the recent feed order for the cattle.

“Good morning, Emily.” Mac said and Cliff nodded, as they scraped back their chairs and sat.

Pour the coffee. Take a deep breath. Here we go.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The crazy morning passed in a haze. Now Katy was down for her afternoon nap. Trevor wouldn’t sleep. So while Emily sipped a cup of tea, Trevor ran his cars over the fringed doily on the end table by the sofa, back and forth repeating the same circle over and over.

Her feet ached and she couldn’t shake the sense of unease. Even Brad had pulled her aside after lunch, before leaving with the men, and whispered in his sexy confident drawl. “We’ll talk tonight.”

And my, oh my, when she looked up into his eyes, the heat and meaning was clear. Maybe last night meant something to him too, and she lit up with an easy smile. “Okay.” He lingered for a minute longer, until the heated meaning seeped into her stubborn worried head.

The front door squeaked and rattled. Emily jumped, spilling a few drops of her hot tea on the scratched oak. “Shit.” She hurried around the corner as she heard the soft click, click of unfamiliar footsteps. Fear climbed in Emily’s throat threatened to choke off any sound. She skidded around the corner to grab Trevor and froze. Time went into slow-mo-zone, where everything stopped and her senses were magnified a hundred times. A tall leggy blonde, who could have stepped out of a fashion magazine, strode into the living room. Behind her were two large red suitcases propped inside the door. She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman Emily had ever seen. Shapely, thin, curves in all the right places, a body, at one time, Emily would have given her right arm for. She had the most magnificent cat-like blue eyes that took on an icy hue as she stared at Emily, while shedding her expensive white leather coat, and tossed it carelessly over the easy chair. Her tight brown sweater and matching brown corduroys fit her like a second skin, in a tasteful way, except Emily honed in on the salon
-shaped eyebrows that didn’t quite match the fawn blonde hair. Her makeup was a skillful work of art. No contest who the beauty was, this woman, who Emily instinctively knew was Crystal, Brad’s wife.

“Who are you
, and why are you in my house?” Her words were sharp, cruel in a way that made Emily feel like the intruder. The good-looking blonde ran her eyes up and down Emily then looked away, dismissing her.

“My name’s Emily, Brad hired me to look after Trevor and
--”

The woman cut her off with an impatient wave of her hand. Displaying her meticulous manicured nails, painted a vibrant red, and the large square diamond ring set in white gold on her ring finger.

“So where’s the boy?” She asked with no particular interest, an ice princess with no plans to thaw.

Emily couldn’t find an intelligent word to say, she opened her mouth, and then shut it. She sought out Trevor, who watched the space between her and this woman, as he held his car and rocked side-to-side making his whoop, whoop noise. Emily dashed to Trevor and squatted down, redirecting him back to his line of cars. “Play with your cars, vroom-vroom, park it here.” She scooted around, the icy woman hadn’t moved. It appeared she wasn’t too keen on coming any closer. “Get him to stop that dreadful racket; I’m going to put my suitcases away. I’d like a cup of coffee. Bring it to me when it’s ready, dear.”

Emily’s back shot up ramrod-straight. What unbelievable gall. I mean really, she didn’t work for her and she wanted to tell her. But she didn’t, and the woman didn’t wait around for a response. She climbed the stairs with one suitcase in hand to Brad’s room.

Emily choked back the lump wedged in her throat, and her heart ached as if pushed through a meat grinder. She watched in disbelief and she’d swear the floor softened beneath her feet. It took a minute to realize it was Trevor screaming. She turned around as he tossed his car across the room, screeching over and over, “da, da, da, da”. Emily gave herself a good dressing down and focused everything she had left on Trevor and calming him down.

She hurried to the TV, popped in a Peter Pan movie, one of his favorites, and held him while he flailed his arms until the opening music filled the room. He stopped, pulled away from Emily and stood a few inches from the TV screen, swaying back and forth. Where was Brad? Her head throbbed, beating at the base of her skull. The tension lingering in the room had sunk into her shoulders and her neck, to the point she’d swear her muscles would soon snap. Emily wandered and circled the kitchen. Katy was still asleep, it was impossible to slip out to find Brad. She dialed his cell, but it kept going to voicemail. “Brad, it’s Emily. Please call me, it’s really important.”

Emily wrung her hands. Then forced to kick out her ego, she caved and made coffee. What would Brad do? What was going to happen? What about her and Brad? She gazed up at the ceiling and threw her hands up. The timing of this was unbelievable.

The coffee maker beeped, and Emily viewed the dark brew as if were a viper ready to strike. She lifted the pot and filled a pink floral mug, even though the muscles in her arms protested what she was doing. Don’t do it. You’re not a servant. Don’t let her treat you like this. Dump it down the sink and ignore her. Don’t let her treat you like this—stop. But she didn’t listen, she swallowed the heavy, hurtful lump that was chalked full of pride, and climbed the stairs while her heart broke a little more. She knocked softly on Brad’s closed door, and waited for the hateful woman on the other side to admit her.

“Come in.” The summons was light and airy from a voice that reeked of confidence. Emily pushed open the door. She didn’t seek out this rude intruder, but instead her eyes were glued to the large four-poster bed where less than twenty-four hours she’d lay sprawled naked for Brad. The floral duvet hadn’t been neatly made, but tossed in a heap in the middle of the bed, where a large red suitcase lay propped open, clothing strewn everywhere.

Crystal cleared her throat roughly. Emily jerked her head and spilled a few drops of coffee on her worn jeans.

“Here’s your coffee.” Emily extended the mug and dropped her eyes to the floor.

“Where’s the cream and sugar?”

So much for avoiding eye contact. “You didn’t say you wanted cream and sugar.”

“Oh yes I did. Cream and one sugar and not that god-awful artificial sweetener. In the future be sure to remember that while you’re working here in my house.” The warning Emily picked up had nothing to do with coffee.

With shoulders hunched, Emily slunk down the stairs with the despicable mug, positive she could hear the wheel of fortune grind to a halt and reverse, from good to bad. Panic and worry began licking its way into Emily’s mind as she wondered what this meant for Brad, her
, and the kids.

Chapter Twenty-Four

An absolute nightmare, the rest of the afternoon had been predestined. But it was worse than Emily had imagined. Thick tension filled every room in the house. Trevor whined, screamed and repeated over and over the same movie line, shoot the Wendy bird. He spun on his bum in the middle of the kitchen floor, and then flapped his hands when Emily stopped him from shoving toys in and out of the bottom of the stove.

Katy woke from her nap crying, and even now whimpered as she clung to Emily’s food
-splattered blue jeans, shoving her thumb in her mouth. And to make it worse, Crystal wouldn’t stay upstairs. She violated all Emily’s spaces, rummaging in Emily’s closet, and then Katy’s, and wandering through every room in the house. She settled finally in Brad’s office, seated herself in his deep padded swivel chair, and put her high fashion heeled boots on Brads desk. Her smile reminded Emily of the cat that stole all the milk. An hour later, Crystal retreated back to Brad’s bedroom.

At three-thirty, while Emily huddled in a corner of the living room with Trevor and Katy creating a Lego townhouse, Brad stormed in. Hurray, the cavalry’s here. She wanted to jump up and throw her arms around her guy; the one she knew would throw this awful woman out. But the dangerous glow that lit his face and could set a barn on fire had Emily hunkering down with the kids. Emily had no desire to be on the receiving end of his wrath.

“She in here?” He bellowed.

Katy practically leapt on Emily’s lap. Trevor never looked up.

Emily wanted him to be her knight in shining armor, to ask how she was. But he had tunnel vision. “She’s in your bedroom.”

“Take the kids out of the house, now.”

Well this wasn’t good. Brad stormed up the stairs, taking them two at a time, slamming his door so hard the living room windows rattled, shredding all hope of a peaceful and calm resolution. Emily leapt to her feet and bundled Trevor and Katy in their coats and hats. She felt an awful chill climb her back; the same kind when you know there’s an intruder. She jumped; Cliff lingered outside the door, watching her in an odd way. Emily yanked on her coat collar and shivered. He said nothing as he stuffed his hands in his grimy jeans pockets, rocked on his heels, and then strode away.

Brad was shouting so loud she’d swear the walls shook. Emily lifted Katy and grabbed Trevor’s hand, leading them outside to the barn to let them romp in a hay pile. More than an hour had passed
, and Emily crept in the quiet front door. She expected, no hoped, Crystal would be gone and this nightmare ended. When she opened the hall closet, the door squeaked and so did the floor board upstairs. Stress and fury lingered in the air, vibrated in the walls, the floor and the furniture; the kind that did after a battle swept through.

Her heart pounded as she tiptoed around the corner, except it was darn impossible to keep two tired and hungry kids quiet. “Come sit down, how about Winnie the Pooh?” The opening credits flashed across the screen when Crystal sauntered down the stairs, her high-heeled boots clicking on the hard wood. She froze at the base of the stairs. Her mouth gaped at the kids perched on the edge of the leather sofa.

The woman was a menace. She crossed her arms over her chest in an obtrusive, rude gesture and appeared to challenge Emily. Well, Emily didn’t and wasn’t going to take the bait. What did the woman expect, for her and the kids to disappear? Newsflash, not going to happen. She strode into the kitchen to start dinner and doing her darnedest to ignore Crystal. It was unmistakable; the clickity, clack that followed. Emily opened the fridge and looked over her shoulder. She couldn’t help notice Crystal appeared like a duck out of water in this kitchen. She crossed her arms and surveyed the entire room with something resembling disdain. “Is that your kid?”

Emily squeezed her fists and closed the fridge. Focus on dinner. Forget she’s here. But that was damned impossible when you had hell’s fire burning a hole in your back. Emily yanked open the fridge again, her hands trembled as she lifted out the pot of chicken stew and set it on the stove to warm. She then pulled out salad fixings.

The woman didn’t move. And now she tapped her toe as if to remind Emily she expected an answer.

Emily let out a soft sigh. “Katy’s in with Trevor.” She didn’t look up, but stirred the stew, struggling against the urge to cry. While Emily made a salad and set the table, Crystal hovered in such a way Emily was forced to step around her. Crystal circled the table as if counting places. Hah, maybe she wanted to see if there was a place for her. Well there wasn’t, and until Brad told her otherwise,
there wouldn’t be. What the hell was this woman still doing here anyway? Why hadn’t Brad thrown her out?

Emily had a hundred questions for Brad. She glanced at the clock. Her stomach ached with unease. Where was he? “Excuse me.” Emily uttered through a clenched jaw as she attempted to put the hot pot of stew on the table. Just then she heard the men stomp in.

Emily didn’t realize she was wringing her hands, nor the doomsday clock nipping at the back of her neck. No one said a word to Crystal. Brad paused, glanced at Crystal, and then moved to his spot at the table. Emily’s heart sank to her knees. Robotically, she shuffled to the living room, switched off the television.

“Katy, Trevor, dinner’s ready.” Emily nearly tripped over her feet; Crystal sat in Emily’s seat, next to Brad. Mac and Cliff sat stiffly and averted their eyes. Brad wouldn’t look at Emily. His face tinged pink and his cheek twitched. What the hell is going on? Emily swallowed the rock stuck in her throat and forced back the tears threatening to burn a hold in her head. She seated Trevor beside Crystal and Katy in her spot.

Emily, her face burning, grabbed another plate and cutlery from the cupboard, and stumbled to the backdoor for the extra chair. No one offered to help, and she blinked back those hateful tears. It wasn’t until she lifted the damn chair that she heard a chair scrape and footsteps. She knew who it was, but now she was too angry and hurt to be relieved.

“I’ll take the chair, Em. Let go.” She struggled to hold it together, but a cursed tear slipped out, then another.

“Why?”

He closed his eyes. Maybe that was easier than seeing how much he hurt her. “Let’s eat, Em. I just want to eat dinner in peace.”

What kind of response was that? Left speechless, she let go of the straight-back chair. She swiped away the tears and followed Brad. She scooted in her chair beside Katy and dished up. But instead of eating dinner, Emily knew she’d be eating her heart.