Page 50 of Dare to Love Again

“Bad...”

“Let me decide.”

“Esmerelda Spade.”

He stared at her for a moment. “You’re right. Esme is a helluva lot better.”

A short laugh escaped her. “Don’t hold back, sir. Tell me how you really feel.”

He grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, lass, but I have to ask. What on God’s green earth was yourmathairthinkin’?”

“That’s just it—green. My mother said as soon as she saw my eyes it came to her.”

“Esmerelda means emerald in Spanish.” His puzzled gaze swept over her features. “Are you Latina?”

“No. Spade is German, and my mother’s grandparents, with a few greats thrown in, immigrated from somewhere in Northern Europe. Which makes me a mutt without a smidgeon of Hispanic heritage.”

“I see.”

She noticed his lip twitch. “She’s wacky, but loveable. Wait until you hear the rest.”

“There’s more?” he asked in mock horror.

“Yes, Esmerelda is my middle name.”

His hand flew to his chest. “Please, darlin’, say your first name isn’t Gertrude or Hortense.”

“Very funny,señor,” she drawled then let loose a little giggle. “But you’re close.”

The humor slowly faded from his face, replaced with sympathy. “I was kidding, lass.”

“I’m not. My dad was a nut, too. And a huge fan of detective mysteries. He thought nothing would do except to name his one and only daughter after his favorite detective in his favorite detective novel.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? I haven’t told you yet.”

“I can guess. It’s Sherlock, isn’t it?”

She blinked then burst into laughter. “That would be worse.”

“Miss Marple?”

“No.”

“Agatha Christie? No, that’s two names. How about Dana as in Scully?”

Falling forward until her forehead met his shoulder, she shook her head as she cracked up. Still, he kept guessing.

“I know...Nancy as in Drew!”

“Stop, sir, please, before I pee my pants.”

His face broke into a devastating grin. “I’m kinky. I freely admit it, but even I’m not into that.”

“What?” she shrieked, turning heads. Then, in a more regulated voice said, “No. Dear Lord, you’re as big of a goof as my parents. My dad named me Samantha. When I got old enough, I chose to go by my middle name, because, well... You know.”

He stared at her, suddenly sober. “I don’t know. Samantha is a beautiful name, although Esme suits you better.”

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