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Their eyes met.
As he worked to fulfill her request, he began to put two and two together.
“I’m pregnant,” Emily said, flashing a guilty-as-charged smile.
Hence the loose-fitting shirts she wore, the fullness of her breasts in comparison to her slender figure.
“Congratulations!” Dan handed her a ginger ale and pack of crackers.
“Thanks.” She ripped open the wax paper and extracted a cracker.
“How far along are you?”
She munched and sipped. “Almost four months.”
“Who’s the lucky guy?”
Her blue eyes glinted with unexpected humor. “76549823-CBGT.”
Dan blinked. “You hooked up with a robot?”
Emily’s melodious laugh filled the kitchen. Her soft lips parted as she prepared to take another sip of her ginger ale.
“A sperm bank. All I know about my baby’s daddy is that he has an IQ over 140 and is Caucasian, blond, greeneyed and tall. And of course has no major inherited health problems I’d have to worry about.”
Dan had lots of questions. None of which would have been polite to ask.
“I’m thirty-five, my eggs aren’t getting any younger, and I wanted a family. The luck of the draw wasn’t working—I just never met anyone I wanted to settle down with.”
“Except Tex Ostrander.” Dan recalled the name of the guy who had caused her so much grief the night before.
Emily’s lips thinned. “Don’t remind me. I’m still mad at him.”
She didn’t appear to still have romantic feelings for her ex. Although why that should matter to him, Dan didn’t know. “Did you talk to him?” he asked casually, forcing himself to move on.
“No.” Looking to be bouncing back from her bout of morning sickness, Emily leaned her spine against the back of the stool. “Although, not surprisingly, he called me several times. But back to the job you offered me last night—I’ve been thinking about it and I can’t commit to a permanent family gig. It just wouldn’t work out for a lot of reasons,” she stated firmly. “But I could help you out on a temporary basis—until I have a chance to get some other chef gigs lined up.”
This, Dan hadn’t expected. He studied the new color in her cheeks and the professional competence in her eyes. “How temporary?”
“I was thinking through Thanksgiving. That would give me time to figure out what the problems are with mealtime around here—from a cooking perspective.”
Maybe there weren’t any, Dan thought. Maybe all they needed was a woman in the house again. “There wasn’t a problem last night,” he said.
Emily disregarded her success. “That was an anomaly. They were caught off guard. They were hungry. Someone set a table of hot food in front of them.”
“Hot delicious food,” Dan corrected.
Finding his mouth dry, he poured himself a glass of ginger ale, too.
“Whatever.” Emily waved off the distinction. She rested both her forearms on the breakfast bar and leaned in deliberately. “The point is, these complex family issues are not going to be resolved just because I’ve showed up.”
Trying not to be distracted by the fragrance of orange blossoms and the silk of her hair that fell seductively over her shoulder, he lounged against the opposite counter. “I think you’re selling yourself short.”
She mocked him with a waggle of her brows. “And I think you’re minimizing the problem,” she teased. “But we digress—”
Dan frowned in confusion. “Do we?”
Her gaze was completely serious now. “You haven’t said if you would be okay with the fact that I’m pregnant,” she pointed out softly.
Dan’s glance moved involuntarily to the slight swell of her tummy beneath the blue-and-lavender paisley tunic before returning to her face. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I’m unmarried.”
And incredibly sexy, and likely to be even sexier in a deeply maternal way as your pregnancy progresses…
“You have impressionable children,” she added.
And I’ve had thoughts about kissing you…
He shrugged. “You’re a responsible adult.”
Emily raked her teeth across her soft lower lip. “Not everyone approves of what I’m doing.”
Dan enjoyed the experience of being there with her, the pair of them talking with the familiar intimacy of two people who’ve known each other for years, instead of mere hours. He reassured her with a look. “Not everyone approves of divorce, either. Stuff happens.” Old dreams fade. New ones take their place. “As far as I’m concerned, congratulations are still in order.”
“Thank you.” Emily smiled. “Do you think my pregnancy will bother Walt?”
Dan sidestepped the question as best he could. “He’s crotchety.”
Her eyes glimmered. She knew there was more. “Meaning?” she prompted.
Candor was something he could not provide. Not yet, anyway. “You don’t work for him. You work for me,” Dan said, and left it at that.
Emily surveyed Dan warily. “Is there something else I should know?”
Besides the fact that Walt doesn’t trust anyone until a thorough background check proves that person is trust-worthy? Dan mused. “Not a thing.”
ONCE EMILY HAD fully recovered from her bout of morning sickness, they decided to get right down to business. “There’s a couple ways we could approach this problem,” she told the family gathered around the kitchen table.
“We’re not going to be able to solve it,” Tommy interrupted, evidencing the same lack of teamwork he had the night before.
Dan gave his son a stern look.
“No offense,” Tommy continued, hands raised, “but none of us like the same stuff.”
Emily knew sugarcoating the problems would not solve anything. They needed to examine their differences together before a remedy could be found.
“That’s true, although you all seemed to like last night’s dinner,” Emily said. “Anyway, according to your lists, Kayla prefers mainly breakfast foods like pancakes, French toast, eggs, cereal and so on. Ava’s into coffee, chocolate and salads. Tommy wants high protein and electrolytes. Dan wants anything everyone will eat. And Walt, given his choice, is a meat-and-potatoes man.”
“It doesn’t sound like we have anything in common.” Ava sighed.
“Sure we do,” Dan interrupted sternly. “We’re all Kingslands.”
“Uncle Walt isn’t—his last name is Smith,” Ava pointed out studiously.
Eager to join in, Kayla put her crayon down and piped up with, “Emily isn’t one, either!”
“That’s right.” Emily struggled to contain control of the family meeting. “I’m not. My last name is Stayton. It was good of you to notice that, Kayla.”
Kayla beamed.
“Back to the problem,” Emily said. “I can come up with menus that will please each of you. And I could make enough to feed you for several days if you wanted to eat the same thing every night, reheated.”
“Leftovers?”
“I don’t really like leftovers.”
“Me, neither.”
“Or we could draw straws to go first and take turns by night,” she suggested. “That way everyone would have at least one night a week where their favorite meal was served.”
The kids appeared to be thinking about this option.
“Or I could try to put one thing that everyone likes in each menu. This might make for some odd combinations. Spaghetti and scones, for instance.”
All the kids made faces.
“Or we could do something a little less mundane,” Emily said, more or less making it up as she went. “We could try eating a lot of new dishes from around the world. Maybe make some of the foods that your mom might be eating in her travels. We could even ask her what her favorite dishes are from some of her favorite places and try that.”
The kids looked receptive to that idea. Dan did not.
“I think we should stick to the tried-and-true at first,” Dan said.
The kids’ enthusiasm faded and they went silent.
“If that means meat and potatoes, sounds good to me,” Walt said with a shrug.
“SORRY ABOUT THAT,” Emily said a short time later as Dan walked her to her van. “I didn’t know you had a problem with international cuisine.”
Normally Dan did not discuss his relationship with his ex-wife. Whatever went on between him and Brenda was between him and Brenda. But since Emily was going to be working so closely with his family, he figured she had a right to know. “I don’t encourage the kids to try and keep up with their globe-trotting mother.”
Emily looked shocked. “Why not? Surely she has e-mail and phone service.”
“She does. She’s just not good about using it for personal reasons. Sometimes weeks or months go by without a word from her.”
“Ava knew where she was.”
“Because Brenda put the two older kids on the listserve that alerts her colleagues to her whereabouts. Getting a mass e-mail every time your mother boards a plane is not the same as having personal contact with her.”
Emily appeared to mull that over. “And the lack of personal contact upsets the kids.”
“It’s always hard when a parent lets you down.”
She nodded, for the moment really seeming to understand. Which in turn made Dan wonder what disappointments she had weathered in her life.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” she said finally.
“Anyway,” he said, “Brenda is scheduled to come home between Christmas and New Year’s. Hopefully nothing will get in the way of that. Meanwhile, if we could just work on getting us on track to civilized family meals, I would appreciate it.”
For the first time Emily looked uncertain. “I’m no miracle worker.”
“You wouldn’t have known that last night.”
“Well, just so you know, I’m not here to step in and cater to their every gastronomic whim.”
Dan knew that what he’d asked of her was unusual. In his estimation, that unusualness was what had made that dinner so great. “The thing is, we’re not the kind of family who has servants waiting on us. I don’t want that kind of atmosphere for my kids.”
Emily tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Then what do you want?”
“Have you ever taught a cooking class?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you know how, at the end of a cooking class, the chef usually sits down with the class to enjoy the food with the people she’s teaching? I’m interested in creating that same convivial mood for my family during the dinner hour. Unfortunately it’s something they’ve never really had. Even before the divorce, the meals at our house were always catch as catch can. So it’s going to be like working with a group of beginners.”
Sensing she was a woman who liked thinking outside the box as much as he did, Dan continued, “The point is, I’m not asking you to make a meal and serve it to us in the formal dining room. I’m asking you to create a warm, relaxed atmosphere during the meal preparation, so the kids are free to come in and out and ask questions or just hang out if they want. And if they so choose, they can learn how to cook from you. During the meal, I want you to sit down and eat with us—the way you would if you were a family friend who’d come over to help out in a pinch.”
Emily made a face. “But I’d still be an employee.”
“Only technically. As far as the kids are concerned, you are a friend of my friends Grady and Alexis McCabe, and you’ve agreed to help us with dinner, using your skills as a personal chef and cooking instructor.” Just to be sure she knew he was serious, he named a salary that caused her eyes to widen. And still, he noted in disappointment, no sale…
“While I appreciate your offer,” she said, “cooking at the same home day in and day out is not something I choose to do anymore.”
“So you’ve worked for a single client before.”
“For a few years, right after I left restaurant work. But I switched to catering small events in different venues because it was more my style.”
Dan suddenly had the feeling she was holding back. Was Walt right? Was there more he should know about Emily before bringing her into his home? He decided it didn’t matter. He wanted peace in his family—now—and she was the only person who could deliver it.
“Look, just give us a couple of weeks and get us through the Thanksgiving holiday,” he persuaded. They both knew she had no other work lined up. And this would give her an income while she regrouped.
“Fine,” Emily said reluctantly. “But the first order of business is groceries. You need a lot of staples, Dan.”
So he gathered. “You want to give me a list?”
“Actually I’d like to do the shopping myself—unless you’re an ace at picking out produce and know the difference between baking soda and baking powder.”
“They’re not the same?”
