Read Online What He Didn't Say by Carol Stephenson - Free Book Online Page B

good man like her father, her brothers-in-law or Jeff was a huge order. Huge.
    Who was she kidding? If she didn’t know herself, how could she add a man to the mix?
    She went out into the hall. Sandy and Jeff’s bedroom door was closed. As she paused by it, she heard the low sound of Jeff’s laughter and Sandy’s responding giggle. Looking upward, she whispered a quick prayer of thanks.
    She’d better check on Emily Rose and see if she was awake. She could at least manage the toddler’s breakfast and watch her. Emma-Lee stepped inside the child’s room, but the crib was empty. Concerned, she hurried on to the living room anddumped her clothes on the sofa beside a neatly folded blanket and pillow. Where was the baby?
    She heard the gurgle of young laughter at the same time the rich aroma of coffee reached her nose. Of course. Emily Rose was in the playpen set up in the kitchen. Jeff must have put a pot on before going in to see Sandy. Her system could use a caffeine boost.
    Emma-Lee wandered into the kitchen and halted, transfixed by the scene before her. In a high-top chair by the builtin banquet, Emily Rose scooped up a dripping spoonful of colorful cereal loops, crammed them into her mouth and then munched contentedly. Holt, wearing a black T-shirt and jeans, stood barefoot by the stainless-steel range. With competent movements, he cracked several eggs into a skillet.
    Yearning raced through her and ran right over her heart.
    Oh, no. Since her legs suddenly had all the consistency of jelly, she leaned against the doorjamb. How could she switch gears so quickly from arguing against finding the perfect man to this?
    Her heart held up the simple answer: she wanted—no, needed—this man with all his sharp edges and complications.
    She exhaled deeply, releasing the breath she had not been aware she was holding.
    Holt glanced up and as he gave her a slow survey, his eyes heated. “Nice outfit. I hope you like eggs and bacon.”
    â€œLove them.” Make nothing of the fact he’s here. Act as if a gorgeous man cooking for you in the morning is a regular thing.
    She crossed the room and kissed Emily Rose’s cereal-crusted cheek. “That’s a Dalton traditional weekend breakfast along with Dad’s homemade pancakes and maple syrup.”
    Holt peeled off thick strips of bacon and dropped them in another large skillet. His brows knitted together as he checkedthe eggs. “The only pancakes I can make are the prepared-batter kind.”
    Emma-Lee grabbed silverware from a drawer and set the table with them along with napkins. “You’re ahead of the game on me. I merely pop the frozen ones in the toaster oven.”
    After checking Emily Rose’s cuppie, she grabbed a container of apple juice from the fridge and placed it on the table. She next opened a cupboard, removed plates and placed them on the counter next to Holt. She then leaned against the counter. “Do you like to cook?”
    He shot her a startled glance before grabbing tongs from the utensil holder. “Like?” He mulled over the word as he turned the strips of bacon.
    â€œCooking was more a matter of survival when I was a kid. My only other option was to eat in the cafeteria on the college campus where my father taught. The moment I could afford to eat in restaurants I abandoned any culinary skills I might have had.”
    No time like the present to cross Holt’s invisible No Trespassing sign she’d sensed about his personal life. “Your father didn’t cook?”
    The kitchen’s cozy environment must have lowered his usual reserve, for Holt hesitated only a fraction of a second before answering.
    â€œDad didn’t do much of anything after Mom died other than retreat into his lessons and the never-ending book he was writing about his mathematical theories.”
    The neutral tone of his voice didn’t quite conceal the note of bitterness. Emma-Lee thought