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think you’re doing, mauling poor Miss Claire on the doorstep for all the world to see? And the poor dear just home from that wretched hospital?”
    â€œI wasn’t mauling her, Emma. I was kissing her,” Matt said to his housekeeper, not even bothering to point out that the so-called wretched hospital was one of the best medical facilities in the South.
    Emma huffed as she shut the door behind them. Folding her arms, she arched her brow imperiously. “And what would your sainted mother have to say if she was to hear you’d been putting on such a show for the neighbors, I wonder?”
    Matt sighed and wondered whether he should try explaining to Emma again that she worked for him now—not his mother. Of course since the half-Irish, half-French Emma was practically a fixture in his family, he would probably be wasting his breath. Still, he tried. “Since my mother is no saint—at least not judging by the earful she gave the staff at the hospital when they refused to let hersee Claire in the emergency room—my guess is she’d say that she hoped I enjoyed myself.”
    â€œAs if Mrs. G. would spout such nonsense,” Emma replied. She looked down her nose at him like he was still a boy—one who had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
    It amazed him how she still managed to pull off that particular trick, since the woman was a full foot shorter than his own six feet. No doubt the fact that she’d changed his diapers and paddled his bottom on more than one occasion had something to do with it, Matt conceded. “Tell you what, Emma. Why don’t I kiss Claire again and you can call my mother and ask her?”
    â€œMatt, please.”
    â€œBehave yourself,” Emma told him. “You’re embarrassing the poor girl.”
    Evidently Emma was right, Matt decided at the sight of the color flooding Claire’s cheeks. He kissed the tip of her nose. “Sorry.”
    â€œYou can put me down now,” Claire told him.
    â€œHe’ll do no such thing. You’ve a sprained ankle according to what Mrs. G. and Mr. Matthew told me and you shouldn’t be putting any weight on it, lamb.”
    â€œBut I—”
    â€œBesides, Mr. Matthew, here, is as strong as an ox,” Emma replied, her expression going from stern to loving as she addressed Claire. “He can carry you into the den. I’ve set up a tray of coffee and some of those little chocolate cakes that you like so much.”
    â€œYou heard her, Red. It’s best not to argue with Emma.”
    â€œBut I don’t want either of you to go to all this trouble,” Claire protested.
    â€œAs if it’s any trouble. Why, if you’d known how worried I was when I heard you’d been hurt…” Emma snatched a tissue from her apron and sniffed, then straightened her shoulders. “I’d better go see to the coffee.”
    â€œWho exactly is she?” Claire whispered as Matt followed Emma down the hall.
    â€œBelieve it or not, she’s the housekeeper.”
    â€œThe housekeeper?”
    â€œYeah,” he said with a chuckle. “Hard to believe, considering she’s the one giving the orders around here.”
    â€œI heard that, Matthew Gallagher.”
    â€œI swear the woman’s got eyes and ears in the back of her head,” Matt complained.
    â€œA body certainly needed them with you around as a boy,” Emma informed him as she waited while he positioned Claire on the big overstuffed chair and propped her ankle up on the ottoman. “Don’t you pay him any mind, Miss Claire,” Emma told her as she shooed Matt out of the way so she could fit the breakfast tray table over Claire’s lap.
    When Matt reached for one of the chocolate cheesecake squares on the tray, Emma swatted his hand. “Those are for Miss Claire.”
    â€œWhat about me?”
    â€œThere’s more in the kitchen if you want