flying up to wrap about Emma’s back while her free hand shot out to grip the handrail. Stephen reached to press a steadying hand at the small of Colette’s back, and she immediately stiffened away from his touch. “Hello, sweetheart,” she said, dipping to press a kiss against their daughter’s tousled head. “Have you been a good girl this morning?”
The grinning mite nodded enthusiastically. “I drawed a picture and me an’ Janet maked lemonade. From scratch!” she crowed, a budding chef who’d obviously internalized her mother’s exacting standards for freshness.
“You remember Mr. Whitfield, don’t you?”
Emma cocked her golden head, her blue eyes tracking his features with undisguised interest. “'Course. Momma’s your en … your em …” Her tiny rosebud mouth puckered as she tried to recall the word. “What’d you say she was?”
She was supposed to be my mistress. “My employee?”
Emma beamed and nodded her head. “Yes, your employee. An’ you like princesses with blue eyes.”
A queer rush of possessiveness gripped his chest as he stared down at his daughter. How had he not recognized her as his from the very first? “Yes, I do.”
“Sweetheart,” Colette interrupted as she moved up to the top step and reached for the door. “Why don’t we go inside and fetch Mr. Whitfield some of that lemonade you made? He and I have something important to tell you.”
“'Kay, but we hafta make more,” she said as she turned to skip past her mother. “Me and Janet drinked it all.”
He and Colette trailed inside after their daughter, her excited chatter informing Janet of their arrival. “Let me do the talking,” Colette murmured beneath her breath.
Resenting her claim of control yet again, he felt irritation coil in his chest. “Why? So you can spin it in your favor?”
“So I can spin it in hers,” she hissed. “I want to minimize her shock and confusion.”
“There wouldn’t be any shock or confusion if you’d—”
“I know that,” she snapped, turning to face him with her hands knotted at her thighs. She checked over her shoulder and then lowered her voice. “But it doesn’t change the reality of here and now. She doesn’t know you are her father yet, and we can’t just spring it on her without taking time to prepare her.”
“Prepare her?” he asked, arching a brow.
She scowled, a trapped lioness protecting her cub. “She’s a child, Stephen, a sweet, innocent child, and telling her will require a bit more sensitivity than you possess.”
He felt himself bristle beneath the insult. “I can be—”
“You can’t.”
Scanning her mulish expression and the lines of worry around her hazel eyes, he realized with a sudden lurch in his gut that she was scared. Despite his anger and frustration, he felt something within him soften and shift. And, even though she deserved everything he saw fit to inflict, he decided it wouldn’t kill him to exhibit a little mercy. He could grant her this small modicum of control. “Fine. You do the talking. I won’t intervene.”
Her shoulders slumped with her relief. “Thank you.”
“But you owe me for this,” he said, reminding her that his capitulation came at a cost.
A flush climbed her face while her eyes flashed. “Fine. I owe you. Add it to my tab.”
Her tab. As if she ever intended to pay. He scowled, wishing he was merciless enough to exploit this new role of creditor to its fullest.
Now that the moment was upon them, Colette didn’t know quite how to feel. Nervous, jittery and scared, she couldn’t begin to predict how Emma would react.
Trepidation filled her lungs as she entered her bright yellow and blue kitchen to find Emma on her knees atop a kitchen stool, helping Janet squeeze fresh lemons into a pitcher. Colette’s heart twisted painfully but she persevered, donning a cheerful smile and a somewhat steady voice. “Janet,” she began, “would you mind excusing us for an hour or so?”
Her nanny arched curious gray brows, her gaze skipping from Colette to Stephen to Emma and then back again. “Of course not, dear. Is there anything—?”
“No, I’m fine,” Colette interrupted.
They stood awkwardly, a silent tableau of untold secrets, until Janet blurted, “I’ll just pick some things up at the deli, then. And catch up with Helen. It’s been a while since we’ve had a good talk.”
“Thank you,” Colette said as Janet collected her purse and then bustled out the back door.
Colette waited until Janet disappeared from sight before pulling out one of her three chairs and gingerly lowering herself into it. “Emma, sweetheart, why don’t you come sit