Richard. She liked the way the word fell from her lips, which pursed as if preparing to give a kiss with the round tone of the R. Richard. She wasn’t even sure how she had come to be on a first-name basis with the man; it just sort of happened. Things tended to happen that way when he leveled those mesmerizing silver eyes on her. She paused, her hand still holding the sponge against the bottom of her pewter pan.Perhaps she should just close her eyes the next time he suggested something. She grinned to herself at the thought of trying to teach them how to bake with a blindfold covering her eyes. Above her, the door opened and Weston appeared at the top of the stairs with a gigantic basket in his hands.“Oh my goodness, what on earth is that?” she asked, marveling at the sheer dimensions of the thing, which he grasped in both hands as he carefully descended the steps.“It’s blasted heavy, I’ll tell you that.”“Weston! Watch your language, young man.”“Sorry,” he grumbled, just as the sound of chuckling behind him caused her to look up.Emerson shook his head from the doorway.
