She owed a lot to Reverend Chandler.

“I envy you,” he said.

She lifted her eyebrows. “Whatever for?”

He shrugged. “I took piano lessons when I was sixteen. Never did get the hang of it. I could play the notes, I guess. Just not…the music.”

Oh, she really didn’t want to hear anything like that from this man. It bespoke a sensitivity in him she didn’t want to acknowledge. It was easier, safer, casting him as the rich man intent on doing a business deal no matter what.

After all, it wasn’t as if her one foray into the man-woman arena had been a terrific success. Her judgment had been faulty, her sensibility nonexistent.

Emma nibbled the inside of her lip and sat down on the couch. “Isn’t it a workday, Kyle? Shouldn’t you be out running your business rather than discussing the finer aspects of being a musician?”

“That’s what I like about you, Emma. You get right to the point.”

“Which is?”

He sat down on the other end of the couch and stretched his arm along the back. His jacket gaped, exposing more of the shirt he wore beneath.

Emma turned her eyes from the sight of his strong brown throat rising from the open collar.

“This is business for me, Emma. You know that.” He looked toward the bassinet situated near the table, presenting Emma with his profile.

It was as perfect as the rest of him. All sharp angles and utterly masculine.

“I was invited to Payton Cummings’s dinner party on Sunday evening. I’ve told him I can’t join them because I’ve other commitments. Family commitments. I’d prefer to back up that statement with some semblance of truth.”

His fingertips were inches from her shoulder and she shifted, putting more distance between them. “You’ve said you have sisters. Make plans with them. It’s less of a lie than using Chandler and me.”

Kyle shook his head. “Tell me what you need in life, Emma Valentine, and I’ll do my damnedest to make it so, if you’ll just help me with this. Forget about this buying notion you’ve got in your head and look at it as one favor for another.”

“I need my son,” she said, exasperated, “but I need no favors from you or any other man.” She pushed to her feet, pacing to the bassinet and back again.

“He really did a number on you, didn’t he?” Kyle’s gaze followed her. “The jerk who was stupid enough to leave you alone and pregnant.”

“You know nothing about it.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “No, I don’t. It’s your business entirely. But I can protect you from him.”

Emma swallowed. Little did he know she didn’t need protection from anyone, least of all the St. James family. They wanted nothing to do with her. Had ensured it. And she didn’t need Kyle Montgomery coming in here, smelling like a dream, reminding her how foolish she’d been.

Kyle rose and stepped close to her, bringing with him his addictive scent. He touched her chin with his finger. “I can protect Chandler.”

There was no wheedling in his voice. Only the simple utterly confident assurance of a man who’d been around long enough to know his abilities. One who’d been around enough to pinpoint the one thing that would penetrate her defenses.

“Come on, Emma. Help me.”

She hesitated. He was so close she could see the darker rim of green around his irises. “Kyle, I—”

“Yoo-hoo, anybody up there?” Footsteps pounded up the stairs outside and Emma blinked, stepping back. She cleared her throat and crossed to the screen door, looking out to see Millie Johnson, her boss at the diner, coming up. “I’ve brought food,” she said when she saw Emma. She lifted the cardboard box that was filled to the brim with foam containers and foil-wrapped packages. “It’ll last you a few days, and then I’ll replace it with more while I try to talk you into taking more than two weeks off with the baby. You need six weeks, and that’s that.”

Emma just shook her head. Her boss, her friend, had a heart wider than the Colorado sky. “Come on in, Millie. I’m not sure where I’ll put the food, though. Penny’s been keeping the fridge stocked, too.” She smiled wryly. “Apparently my friends think I’m in danger of starving to death on my own.”

“Oh, shush.” Millie brushed past her, stopping in surprise at the sight of a man inside. She recovered quickly, though, introducing herself as she strode across to the small kitchen.

Kyle raked his fingers through his hair, squelching an impatient sigh at this latest interruption. He’d been reaching her, dammit. He knew it. He’d seen it in her chocolate-brown eyes. He slid a business card from the inner pocket on his jacket and handed it to Emma. “I can be reached anytime, anywhere, at that number,” he said softly. “But I need an answer soon.”