Almost a Christmas Bride. Susan Crosby

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СКАЧАТЬ Shana’s moving in, huh?” one customer asked.

      “To work for me,” Kincaid said, not stopping to engage in conversation. Fortunately, he’d never given the town reason to gossip about him through the years. He’d dated women outside of town, asked a fair price for the work he did and completed jobs on time. Still, even after nineteen years as a member of the community, he wasn’t well-known enough to be kidded much.

      Which might change now that he’d shaken up his predictable world.

      “What’s the big deal about Shana moving in as your housekeeper?” Dylan asked after they’d left the diner. “Lots of people have live-in help.”

      “She’s a young, attractive, single woman, and this town loves its gossip.” Kincaid pulled out his keys and toyed with them. “Remember that. And its citizens have long memories, too. It’s like one big family, with its rivalries and devotion.”

      “Thanks. I’ll remember.” Dylan looked around. “You know, when you first offered me the chance to come up here and work, I really wanted the job but I wasn’t sure about being so far from city life. But now I like it. It’s old, you know? I love knowing that gold miners settled the town all those years ago, and that the downtown is just a couple of blocks long and has wooden sidewalks that make noise when you walk on them, and people say hello all the time.”

      “Even if everyone knows your business?” Kincaid asked.

      “People knew who I was right away. That was cool. Plus, I like all the trees and hills and the great view of the Sierras. I can see myself staying here forever.”

      Chance City did get into one’s blood, Kincaid thought. He’d felt the same affinity for it when he’d landed here. “You’re right. It’s a good town. See you at home.”

      Home. Kincaid’s quiet home had been disrupted by having Dylan live with him, and it was about to be disrupted more. Much more. On the other hand, it should be more organized, too, having Shana around to take over some of his responsibilities. That much was the truth.

      He just had to make sure she never found out why he’d offered her the job. He couldn’t be responsible for her running away again.

      For someone who’d built his reputation on being a man of his word, that would be a death knell to him.

      Chapter Three

      Kincaid’s house was set back from the street by at least a hundred feet. Shana maneuvered her car down the long, curving driveway surrounded by pine and oak trees of varying heights and density, which mostly blocked the house from view, at least low to the ground.

      “Sure is dark,” she said, then made the final turn and stopped in front of a large lodgelike structure, with a well-lit front porch.

      “Dark,” Emma said from her car seat.

      “I’ll bet it’s pretty during the day, though. What do you think, peapod? Look at all those windows. The view must be spectacular.”

      Emma babbled her response, although “pretty”—her newest word in her rapidly expanding vocabulary—

      came through loud and clear mid-paragraph, even if it did sound more like “pity.”

      Shana got Emma from the backseat and headed up the stairs of the impressive structure, so suited to its environment. According to Aggie, he’d built the house himself about four years ago. Apparently everyone had talked about it, because his original goal had been to sell it, then he hadn’t, surprising them all. They’d wondered why one man would need a house with five bedrooms. There’d even been a pool going for a while about when he would get married, but it never happened, and the gossip eventually died off, although everyone had wondered if he’d had his heart broken by a rejection.

      Kincaid opened the front door and said hello before she could knock. He wore jeans, a plaid flannel shirt and thick socks. His shirtsleeves were rolled up a few turns, revealing muscular forearms. Strong. She associated the word with him more than any other.

      “Cat got your tongue?” he asked, cocking his head.

      “Kitty?” Emma asked, looking around. “Me down,” she said, wriggling. “Kitty.” Her tone was the same insistent one she used to say “cookie.”

      “There’s no kitty, peapod,” Shana said. “Or is there?”

      “No pets at all,” Kincaid said. “Come in out of the cold. I built a fire. Don’t worry. It’s got a large, sturdy screen. I made adjustments to it today to affix it to the stone. There’s no danger to Emma.”

      His consideration caught her off guard. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”

      “Well, selfish, too,” he said. “I like my fires in winter and didn’t want to give them up.” He turned to Emma. “How are you, Miss Emma?”

      “Do you remember Kincaid, Emma?” Shana asked. “Can you say Kincaid?”

      Emma shook her head, her thumb stuck firmly in her mouth.

      “It’s a new word, isn’t it? Please try, Emma. Say Kincaid.”

      She gave Kincaid a long look, then said, “Kinky.”

      Shana slapped a hand over her mouth, stifling a laugh. “Almost, baby. Try again. Kincaid.”

      “Kinky,” Emma said, louder.

      “Kinky it is,” Kincaid said, not seeming bothered by it.

      “If it’s any consolation,” Shana said, “she started calling Dylan ‘Dilly.’”

      “I’d rather be Kinky than Dilly.”

      “I’m sure.” She smiled. “Where is he, anyway?”

      “He drove to Sacramento to buy some posters, which apparently you suggested for his new place.”

      “I don’t think he’s a wildflower-print kind of guy, do you?”

      Kincaid shook his head. He led them toward the fireplace, which took up a good portion of one wall and was bracketed by floor-to-ceiling windows, triple-paned, he said, for temperature control. The furnishings were perfect for the lodgelike environment, overscale and masculine, and yet not so masculine as to feel sterile.

      “Me down,” Emma said again. Shana set her on the floor, and she toddled closer to the fireplace, coming to a stop several feet from it. “Pretty.”

      Shana joined her, taking off her tiny jacket, as well as her own. Kincaid took both and hung them on a rack by the front door.

      “Your home is beautiful,” she said.

      “Thanks. Would you like to see the rest?”

      “Yes. Come on, Emma.”

      Emma went ahead of them, so they followed her lead. She took them through the dining area on the opposite side of the living room, which also had a stunning view, then into the most perfect kitchen Shana had ever seen, with maple cabinets, stainless-steel appliances, green-and-gold СКАЧАТЬ