The Midwife's Glass Slipper / Best For the Baby: The Midwife's Glass Slipper

“He was at the hospital most of the day. I didn’t see him. Maybe that’s good.”

“Is it?”

“I don’t know. When did life get so complicated?”

Francesca shook her head. “When chemistry turned into more than a science experiment. See you later.”

Emily had to smile at her friend’s assessment of the situation. She took off her jacket and was about to hang it in the closet when the telephone rang. Crossing to the cordless phone beside the sofa, she picked up the handset and checked the caller ID. It was Jared.

“Hello,” she said, not knowing what to expect.

“Emily, it’s Jared.”

“I know.”

“What would we do without caller ID?” he teased lightly. “At least you picked up. That’s a good sign.”

“A good sign for what?”

The silence on his end almost made her wish she hadn’t asked. Then he replied, “I’ve been thinking about last night. I couldn’t get it off my mind all day.”

She waited.

“You were right. There is a connection between us and I’m not sure it’s one I want.”

“That’s why you called?”

She heard him blow out a breath. “I’m not doing this very well. Just let me say I’m not calling because I need help with the girls.”

“I don’t mind helping you, Jared.”

“I know. But now I’d like to do something that doesn’t involve them.”

Was he going to ask her on a date? “Like what?”

“There’s a charity banquet and dance at the Rayburn Hotel on Saturday evening.”

“Yes, I know. I was planning to go with friends.”

“How would you like to go with me instead?”

Actually, she’d been planning to tag along with Vince and Tessa.

“Would your friends mind if you changed your plans?” he cut in before she could think it through.

“No, I don’t suppose they would. I’d been planning to sit with Tessa Rossi and her husband, Vince. Maybe the four of us could share a table, unless you had something else in mind.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“If you’d rather sit with Dr. Pratt or Dr. Layman…” Those were the two men who shared Jared’s practice.

“Larry Pratt isn’t going, and Tom is sitting with the hospital board. The thing is, Emily, I’m not asking you because this is a hospital function.”

“Why are you asking me?” she inquired softly, not wanting to put him on the spot but needing to know.

“I’d like to spend some time with you alone, away from my daughters, away from the practice. I realized—” He stopped. “I realized what I said last night might have hurt you, and I never meant to do that. Although it’s no excuse, I haven’t had a personal life for a long time.”

“So this is a date?”

“Yes, it’s a date. Are you accepting?”

“I’m accepting.”

“Good.”

She thought she could hear a smile in his voice. Thank goodness she had the rest of the week to think about what to wear. She might have to go shopping!

“That’s settled, then. Dinner starts at eight. I’ll pick you up around seven fifteen. Is that okay?”

“That’s fine.”

“I’m glad you’re going with me, Emily. I really mean that.”

“I’m glad I’m going, too.”

After he said good-bye and hung up, Emily couldn’t keep from smiling. In fact, she felt like singing. She was definitely going to wait up for Francesca tonight and tell her her news.

Francesca knocked at the door of the saddle shop, her palms sweating. Grady had told her to come around back and park there in the small lot. It was well-lit. She wasn’t afraid of getting mugged.

What was she afraid of?

Seeing Grady again? Feeling the attraction that had tumbled them into intimacy? Here was where it had happened—in his office on the blue-denim couch.

Pushing the images out of her head, she knocked sharply on the door again. There was a dim light inside, a brighter one to the right…in his office.

He opened the door and one look into his deep blue eyes told her he, too, was remembering everything that had happened here. He had coal-black hair that she had run her fingers through. He had broad shoulders that had felt so muscled under her hands. He had a stubbled jaw and that stubble had felt—

“Come on in,” he invited her with a Texas drawl that should have seemed ordinary, but wasn’t.

Her mouth went as dry as the west Texas dirt.

She followed him inside, inhaling the scents of leather, wood, other materials he used for his custom-made saddles. She didn’t pay any attention to the worktables, the bench that Grady had told her his dad had handcrafted for him. Rather she followed Grady into that small lit room.

He went behind his desk and sat in the high-back chair. She didn’t sit in one of the chairs in front of the desk. Instead she stayed standing. “I won’t take up much of your time.”

He leaned back, making the chair squeak. “Take all the time you want. I’m not really thrilled with returning to the bookwork program on my computer.”

To Grady’s right, a cursor blinked on a ledgerlike screen.