Almost a Christmas Bride. Susan Crosby

      “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 granite countertops and more cabinet space than one man could ever possibly use, even if he were a professional chef. She’d had jobs as a short-order cook in small towns several times to earn her keep, but she didn’t consider her skills more than basic. Could the right kitchen inspire her to become better at it?

      They moved on to two downstairs bedrooms, then upstairs to see two more bedrooms, an office and the master suite, which was about the same size as the one-bedroom apartment she currently lived in. Every room was completely and beautifully furnished. She looked at it all with a designer’s eye and didn’t see a need to change anything, which was a little disappointing. She’d been hoping her talents would be put to use at his house.

      “You and Emma are welcome to use the two bedrooms downstairs or upstairs.”

      “Thanks. I’ll think it over.” She thought it would be a good idea to keep her distance from him, keep Emma’s noise to minimal disruption, and yet she liked the security of being on the same floor.

      “I need you to decide soon. Dylan and I will have to move furniture out of the right bedroom to make room for Emma’s things.”

      “Okay. Did you have a professional designer?”

      “I designed the house, but I hired a decorator to help furnish it. If you’d lived in town then, I would’ve hired you.”

      Shana studied him for a few seconds, then watched Emma, who was standing at the foot of his bed as if plotting how to climb up on it. “This is weird,” Shana said.

      “What’s weird?” He crouched to give Emma a boost, but she moved sideways, out of reach. He looked over his shoulder at Shana.

      “Us. This. We’re not arguing. We always argue.”

      “I wouldn’t call it arguing. No one ever shouts. Mostly it’s just insults. And you usually start it.”

      Shana’s mouth dropped open. “I usually start it? You just started it.” She rushed forward to stop Emma, who’d grabbed the deep green duvet and was trying to pull herself up.

      “I won’t let her fall,” Kincaid said, as if offended. He reached for Emma.

      “No,” she said.

      “Emma,” Shana said, caution in her voice

      “No Kinky.” She took off running, another recently mastered skill, giggling all the way. Shana was hot on her heels.

      He found them in his office, Emma holding on to his desk and moving away from Shana, giggling at the game. Her hands hit the computer keyboard, waking up the monitor, the sudden light startling her.

      “You can’t touch the computer, Emma,” Shana said, turning to look at Kincaid. “I’m so sorry.”

      He realized then what was on the screen. A spreadsheet of his annual expenses that he’d intended to transfer to a flash drive. She’d glanced at the screen. Would she notice? It had a big heading, in bold. If she read it, she’d know he’d already computerized the work he’d told her he wanted her to do.

      Then she wouldn’t believe anything else he said—

      “Here’s the box of receipts I told you about. I pretty much just toss them in here all year, then deal with them at the end.”

      “I can manage that. I’m kind of surprised you’re that disorganized, Kincaid. You don’t seem like you would be.”

      “We all have our flaws.”

      “Yes, we do. Let’s go, peapod,” she said.

      Kincaid blew out a breath then trailed them more slowly, gauging their location by following the laughter. There hadn’t been much laughter in this house. Not that it was a depressing place to be, not at all, but he’d been alone most of the time. Having Dylan around had been an adjustment, and there had been laughs between them, but nothing like he expected would become the norm with Shana and Emma around.

      Kinky. He wondered what people would say once they heard Emma call him that in public, if she ever warmed up to him. The idea that she wouldn’t take to him hadn’t crossed his mind. Until now.

      Except, she was Shana Callahan’s daughter, after all. Maybe like mother, like daughter.

      He went into the living room and stoked the fire, adding a log, then sat in his chair, leaving the sofa for them. They came running back into the room, Shana scooping her up and whirling her around. It was a homey moment, one played out in houses around the world all the time, but a first for him. They were a family unit, Shana and Emma. Shana would be there day in and day out, taking care of the house, helping with his business, in his line of sight a great deal of the time, and sleeping nearby.

      A wife but without the conjugal benefits, he thought.

      He’d sort of considered that before, but having her here finally brought it home, the enormity of what he’d offered her—she’d be an almost wife.

      And what she considered a negative—their sparring—he enjoyed. A lot. She was usually direct, her honesty startling at times, but he wished he knew why she was edgy around him. He hadn’t noticed her having the same reaction or behaving the same way with anyone else.

      “Baby girl, you are wet. You need your diaper changed,” Shana said.

      “Diappy.”

      “Exactly.” Shana looked at Kincaid. “We should probably go. I’ll change her at home.”

      But you just got here. He was caught between relief and disappointment. “Okay.”

      They put their jackets on. He followed them out the door and down the steps, waiting as Emma was buckled into her car seat.

      “Say bye-bye to Kincaid,” Shana said to her, not shutting the door yet.

      “Bye-bye.” She waved. “Kinky! Bye-bye!”

      Apparently, she warmed up at the thought of leaving. “Goodbye, Miss Emma. I’ll see you soon.”

      Shana shut the door, got in the car and started the engine. She rolled down the window, then she stared out the windshield, as if working up the nerve to say something.

      Kincaid crouched and waited.

      “Thank you for the job. And I’ll try not to argue with you,” she added with a small smile. “Not sure I can follow through on that one.”

      “Baby steps, Shana. Just be honest. That’s all I ask.”

      “You, too,” she said.

      He tapped the car with his open hand to end the conversation, then stood. He could be honest with her—to a point. They both had reputations to uphold, after all. He intended to do just that. “It’s cold. You should get going.”

      “See you Saturday,” she said with a wave, then she was gone.

      He watched until her taillights were out of sight. He didn’t think he’d ever forget the look on her face as she’d thanked him. It had humanized her for him in a way that he hadn’t acknowledged about her before. He’d been told she was well liked by many other people, but at times it was as if she’d gone out of her way for him not to like her.

      Until now.

      He was glad he’d seen it for himself. He saw hope, even that they could become friends through all this.

      Time would tell.

      Shana carried Emma up the stairs from the salon to her apartment. How tiny the