“It’s beef stew,” she said. “Most of us try to stretch out paychecks so you’ll see lots of casseroles, I’m afraid.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.”
She quirked up her brows. “Just how often do you eat casseroles?”
He finally had to admit, “Not often. But that’s not because I don’t like them. I just usually grab some takeout supper, or eat at a restaurant.”
“No cooking skills?” she joked.
“No time to use cooking skills. That probably sounds like an excuse, but when I get home at nine o’clock some nights, the last thing I want to do is cook.” With sudden insight, he said, “That’s probably the same way you feel many nights, too, only you have a daughter to think about, so you don’t have a choice.”
Her eyes lingered on his. He thought her gaze dropped to his lips, stayed there a few seconds.
She brought her gaze to his again, then blushed a little. “Not many men understand that.”
“Maybe the men you’ve known don’t understand it, but I know men who do—Dax and D.J. particularly. Even I know that once children are in the picture, everything else should revolve around them.”
They came a little closer to each other, toe-to-toe. If he set down the stew, it would be easy to wrap his arms around her and bring her in for a kiss. But he knew this wasn’t the place or time to start something.
Still, he had the feeling something had already started.
“Speaking of children …” Erika joked, turning away to make sure everything was in order before they left. “If you put that in my car, I’ll get Emilia. Sometimes it takes a little while to coax her into her coat. She can be stubborn.”
Dillon went out the door first and Erika followed, locking the door. “I have a feeling you can be stubborn, too. Am I right?” he asked.
“Only when something is very important.”
A few minutes later, Mrs. Rodriguez was peering out the door when Emilia toddled down the steps and ran straight to Dillon. He’d just finished settling the pot on the floor of the car next to a huge box of chocolates he was contributing to the supper and spun around at the sound of her laughter.
That sound tore at his heart. But he lifted her, unable to resist holding Erika’s daughter. “Well, don’t you look pretty in that red sweater.”
She pulled a lock of her brown hair and grinned at him. “Cawwy … cawwy.”
Erika came over to her daughter and lifted her from Dillon’s arms. “I’ll carry you.”
But Emilia shook her head vigorously and pointed to Dillon.
Her gestures for some reason reminded him of Toby’s. “Would you like me to put you in your car seat?” he asked the almost two-year-old, his voice strained, not knowing if she’d understand.
She reached toward him again. “Go … go … go.”
Erika laughed and Dillon had to smile. At two, Toby had known what he’d wanted, too. When Dillon glanced at Mrs. Rodriguez, she wasn’t smiling. She waved goodbye but didn’t seem happy about her daughter driving off with a man. This Scott Spencerman must have done a number on them both.
A few minutes later, with Dillon driving her car, Erika was giving him directions to a church hall. It wasn’t far and they didn’t have time for conversation until right before they climbed out. Then she said, “Emilia doesn’t usually take to men as she’s taken to you.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“She hasn’t been around many men, so she sees them as strangers. But you—For some reason you’re different.”
Then Erika quickly unfastened her seat belt and exited the car.
Dillon watched as she expertly released Emilia from her car seat. But when Erika shut the back door of the car, Emilia reached her little hands toward Dillon. He could see Erika’s look of surprise. He was surprised, too. And touched … in a deep but bittersweet way.
Erika started to explain to her daughter, “Dr. Dillon doesn’t want—”
Dillon found himself responding impulsively, “Sure, Dr. Dillon will carry you inside. Come on.”
Emilia was a little bundle of sweater and cotton overalls. She smelled sweet and he recognized the shampoo scent, the same brand Allaire used on her child. She laughed up at him, her sparkling brown eyes full of mischief. Then as suddenly as she’d reached for him, she tucked her little head under his chin and poked her thumb into her mouth.
“I think she could become attached,” Erika said softly, a bit of worry in her tone.
“She’s a real gift, isn’t she?” he asked Erika, knowing what she’d been through.
“Yes, she is.”
An elemental understanding passed between them. It was bone-rattling in a way. Understanding could be as potent as chemistry.
He wondered if Erika felt the understanding, too, because suddenly she looked toward the social hall instead of looking at him, and said, “We’d better go inside.” Then she went to the backseat for the Crock-Pot. After handing him the chocolates, they strolled up the walk, side by side.
Inside the social hall, Dillon was surrounded by the sound of women’s voices. As he looked around, he realized this was indeed a test. Most of the women were accompanied by children. Already a few casseroles lined one of the tables. Paper dishes and plastic tableware marked each place. For once in his life, he wasn’t exactly sure what he should say, or what he should do. He was bombarded by memories of Toby as he caught sight of children with their moms playing with toys, sitting at the tables.
Leaning close to Erika, he asked, “Will there be gossip about you bringing me here?”
“Not the way I’m going to introduce you. I thought you could give them some tips on nutrition and on keeping their kids healthy.”
It was obvious Erika wasn’t ready to go on a “date” with him. It was also obvious she was comfortable here—more comfortable than she was with her coworkers at the resort. “Okay,” he agreed. “We’ll ward off gossip with facts about nutrition. Why don’t you introduce me? We’ll start with that.”
Erika clapped her hands for everyone’s attention. The chatter ebbed away as the women looked at her expectantly.
“I want you to meet Dr. Dillon Traub. He handles emergencies and ailments at the resort. If you have any questions about the best foods to feed your kids, or how to keep them healthy this winter, feel free to ask him.”
Dillon smiled at the women. “I don’t pretend to know all the answers, but if I can tell you anything that will help, I’ll be glad to do it.”
Tired of being held, Emilia squiggled around in his arms. He raised his brows at Erika.
“You can put her down. She likes to roam from chair to chair. Mom already fed her because she usually gets caught up in play with someone here and doesn’t eat.”
After Dillon set Emilia gently on the floor and she ran toward another little girl who looked to be about three, he took off his suit coat and laid it across the table at the rear of the room. Then he tugged down his tie, slung it from around his neck and stuffed it into his jacket pocket. His shirt sleeves were next. He rolled those up and felt a lot more comfortable.
As he took a seat next to Erika, women began filling the chairs around the table, introducing themselves and asking him questions. They weren’t shy and soon they were having a lively discussion about fresh foods, frozen vegetables and healthy snacks for kids. At one point, Dillon glanced at Erika and caught her watching him. Her interest gave him an odd feeling, but pleasurable