“Take the gloves.” Clay’s tone gentled. “I could use the help.”
Emily hesitated a moment longer, and then decided that she really did want be a part of setting up the party for her father. “All right. Thanks.” She took the gloves and pulled them on. They were huge on her. Laughing, she held up both hands. “Look, Minnie Mouse.”
He smiled. “Sorry. That’s all I could find.”
Instantly she was contrite. “I’m not complaining. I think it’s sweet that you thought to give me gloves in the first place. They’ll work fine.” That’s when she made the mistake of looking into his eyes, and the air went out of her lungs.
Oh . . . dear . . . God. She hadn’t seen heat like that in . . . maybe she’d never seen heat like that. It was a wonder she didn’t go up in flames. Parts of her felt as if they might combust at any moment.
Muttering a swear word under his breath, he dropped his gaze. “This is no good,” he said, his voice husky.
“You’re right. I won’t go.” She took off the gloves and held them out.
He lifted his head and looked at her. “That’s not right, either.”
“Sure it is.” She shook the gloves. “Take these back, and I’ll just go on up to the house.”
He stared at the gloves. Then, with another muttered oath, he took them and tossed them into the front seat of her car.
“What on earth are you doing?”
“Making a mistake.” He grasped both her wrists and drew her toward him.
She should have resisted. She didn’t. Her heart beating furiously, she gulped as the distance between them grew smaller. “You don’t want to do this.”
“Oh, yes, I do.”