“Um, when you said, ‘all right, tell me about your matchmaking.’”
George rubbed his head. “That’s before I knew who your first victim was with all hischestnuthair. It’s brown, right? Or is there some girl nuance I’m missing?”
She cocked her head to one side. “There are lots of shades of brown. Your eyes, for example, are a rich, coffee color with a swirl of cream in the middle. A girl could get lost in them.” Her mouth turned up slightly at her success in making him self-conscious. “Oh, George. You’ve distracted me with your good looks again. But back to Elton. Don’t you think he deserves love?”
That wasn’t a question he wanted to spend even two seconds considering. “Why don’t we go watchCooking with Strangers, orPrincess Wars? Whatever you want. Just don’t talk about Elton’s love life. I beg of you.”
He’d fallen right into her trap. He knew it the second she broke into a satisfied smile and dragged him into the den. She pulled a blanket off the back of the loveseat and laid it over the top of them, snuggling right into his side. In this case, it was a win-win.
***
Emma paused the show and listened for the light rapping noise she thought she’d heard. Yep, there it was again at the front door. She glanced at George, totally passed out, and couldn’t help smiling. He hadn’t made it ten minutes into Princess Wars, but he was a good sport.
She checked the peephole and then let Elton in. “Couldn’t stay away, huh?”
“You’re always up, and you do provide good snacks.” He rubbed his hands together. “It’s kind of cold out there with that wind blowing.”
“I could make some hot chocolate.”
“I could definitely go for some of that.” Elton followed her into the kitchen and sat on a stool. “I’ve been writing for five hours straight, and my eyes and back told me it was time to take a break. I’m up against a deadline, but my agent is really excited about this next book. He says it’s my best work yet.”
“That’s awesome, Elton.” Emma had no desire to read any of it, but she was happy he’d found something he was passionate about. Everyone deserved something like that.
She needed a way to ask him some matchmaking questions without making it patently obvious why she was asking. Luckily, she had time to think while Elton described in detail the different societies of the ancient world and what made them different from each other.
It wasn’t that Emma didn’t like history, but Elton tended to focus on the less interesting bits and use them as evidence for why religion was bad. While Emma wasn’t particularly religious herself, it made her uncomfortable to hear him strip away things others held sacred. As a result, she usually tuned out most of what he said and just nodded at the right times. Elton had never noticed.
Taking down two mugs, she filled them with hot water from the glass measuring dish she’d just microwaved. Elton ripped the top off a hot cocoa packet and tapped it into his mug.
Using the lull in the conversation, she dove in. “So, Elton. Whatever happened to that girl you went out with last year? The one who drove the Maserati?”
He made a face. “We went out a few times, but she wasn’t what I’m looking for.” He smiled at that last part, and Emma tried not to let excitement fill her. That meant he was looking.
“In what way? What did she lack?” she asked.
“She wasn’t genuine. I come from money, but I’ve chosen a quiet, scholarly life. I don’t spend a lot on dates or clothes. I think she was expecting something different since she met my parents at their country club before they introduced us.”
He was looking for someone genuine and down-to-earth. That perfectly described Harriet. Emma hadn’t told George this part, of course, but she’d decided if Elton and Harriet were to meet and hit it off, she wouldn’t stand in the way of a good thing.
Emma shrugged. “I thought she was pretty, with her blonde hair and big blue eyes.” His last girlfriend wasn’t quite a dead ringer for Harriet, but they were both curvy blondes with a light smattering of freckles. Maybe that was his type.
“Why all the questions, Emma?” The corner of his mouth slid up, and he leaned forward.
From the other room, George murmured in his sleep.
Elton froze. “Was that your grandfather?”
“Oh, no. That’s George. He fell asleep while we were watching TV.”
Elton set down his mug and looked at his watch. “I’d better go. You may want to kick out that deadbeat, too. Doesn’t he have to work in the morning?”
“Good point.” Emma walked Elton to the door and then tiptoed into the den to wake up George and send him home.
“George, wake up.”
He bolted upright from the couch, waving a combative arm in the air as if being attacked. Emma hid a laugh. It was a familial trait. Her sister complained about John doing the same thing all the time.
“George.”
