Twins Times Two!
Lisa Bingham
Was she seeing double?Cara Wells couldn't believe her eyes! Behind the door of successful lawyer Ross Gifford's mansion were his twin daughters…girls identical to her twin nieces. Though they'd been in her care only a short time, Cara was fiercely protective of her delightful duo and was determined to straighten the mix-up that had separated the sets.Yet the only way to keep the curly-haired toddlers together was for Cara and Ross to marry. And even though it was a marriage in name only, the longer they played husband and wife, the harder it was to ignore the passion simmering between them.!
“You’ve decided to ask for joint custody, haven’t you?” Cara whispered
“I think I’ve come up with a better solution,” Ross told her. “It’s a little unconventional, but…”
“You can’t take my children away from me. I won’t let you.”
“No. I’m not staking a claim on your children, but ideally the children should be allowed to grow up together.”
“I thought you said you wouldn’t try to take them away.”
“What I’m suggesting is more of a…merger.” He hesitated.
“A merger?” Cara’s brow furrowed.
“Of families. Yours and mine.”
She blinked. “I don’t understand.”
“I think we should get married.”
Dear Reader,
Welcome to another month of wonderful books from Harlequin American Romance. We’ve rounded up the best stories by your favorite authors for you to enjoy.
Bestselling author Judy Christenberry brings readers a new generation of her popular Randall family as she returns to her BRIDES FOR BROTHERS series. Sweet Elizabeth is about to marry another man, and rodeo star Toby Randall will let nothing stand in the way of him stopping her wedding. Don’t miss Randall Pride.
An injured firefighter and the woman he rescued in an earthquake learn about the healing power of love in Charlotte Maclay’s latest novel, Bold and Brave-Hearted. This is the first book of her exciting new miniseries MEN OF STATION SIX. In Twins Times Two! by Lisa Bingham, a single mom agrees to a marriage in name only to a handsome single dad in order to keep together their two sets of twins, who were separated at birth. And enemies are forced to become Mr. and Mrs. in Court-Appointed Marriage by Dianne Castell, part of Harlequin American Romance’s theme promotion THE WAY WE MET…AND MARRIED.
Enjoy this month’s offerings, and make sure to return each and every month to Harlequin American Romance!
Wishing you happy reading,
Melissa Jeglinski
Associate Senior Editor
Harlequin American Romance
Twins Times Two!
Lisa Bingham
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To all parents of “multiples.” Especially Will and Erin. Congratulations on the adoption of the triplets! How your family has grown!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lisa Bingham is a resident of Tremonton, Utah—a rural farming community where the sounds of birds and the rustle of wheat can still be heard on hot summer evenings. She has written both historical and contemporary romances and loves spending time watching her characters grow. When she isn’t writing, she spends time with her husband on his three-hundred-acre farm and teaches English at a local middle school.
Books by Lisa Bingham
HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE
602—NANNY JAKE
635—THE BUTLER & THE BACHELORETTE
651—THE DADDY HUNT
662—DANA AND THE CALENDAR MAN
692—THE PRINCESS & THE FROG
784—AND BABIES MAKE TEN
835—MAN BEHIND THE VOICE
887—TWINS TIMES TWO!
HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE
540—WHEN NIGHT DRAWS NEAR
Contents
Chapter One (#u0417fa14-8bdc-562d-89c1-a9b5572c93a5)
Chapter Two (#u8b3423d1-21f5-5ee2-8c4b-0e7d37faa7e1)
Chapter Three (#ud3dd7064-306c-5ca5-9af3-57cb88af2199)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
Cara Wells paused in the doorway to the kitchen and suppressed a grin. Mere feet away her twin girls were trying to scale a makeshift ladder made of their potty stool, a package of disposable training pants, and the brass handles of the drawers. Zoe, the smaller of the two, had evidently been drafted into being “top man” in the escapade, while below her, Heidi pushed at her sister’s rear end in an attempt to help her crawl onto the kitchen counter.
It wasn’t hard to figure out their intended goal. Only an hour ago the twins had helped Cara make a chocolate cake. Knowing the girls would be tempted to drag their fingers through the frosting, Cara had pushed it as far back into the corner as she could. But even keeping the sweet treat out of sight hadn’t been enough to dissuade them from trying to get another sampling.
“Get off the counter,” Cara said, softly enough to keep from startling the girls but with enough firmness to help them realize she meant business.
Immediately three-year-old Zoe twisted to look at Cara. The little girl’s cornflower-blue eyes radiated an angelic innocence that belied her proximity to the cake.
“C’mon Zoe. Get the cake,” Heidi urged, obviously not dissuaded by Cara’s appearance.
“Down,” Cara said again.
“We needa piece a cake,” Heidi announced.
“That’s for when we go on a picnic with Polly tomorrow afternoon.” Cara’s reminder had little effect so she added, “Tomorrow.”
“No!” Heidi insisted, still pushing Zoe’s rear and causing her sister to scrabble for a handhold on the slippery Formica. “We needa piece a cake now!”
Cara had to fight to keep from laughing. A part of her wanted to cave in and let them have the cake. In the six months since the state had given her legal guardianship of the children, it had been such a joy to watch them experiencing so many firsts. Each day was a conquest for them in some small way—from potty training to riding a tricycle. They took such joy from the simple things, and they’d taught Cara to look more closely at the simple beauties of the world around them. Cara liked the way they turned their faces toward the morning sun and ate ice cream with the exuberance of a gourmand.
But she also knew that it was important to set limits. Despite everything the children had been through, she couldn’t spoil them rotten. After all, there was Harvard to look forward to—or perhaps a seat on the Supreme Court. If either venue proved to be part of their futures, it wouldn’t do for Cara to ruin their manners in their first few months under her care.
“Can we p’ease hav’a piece?” Heidi asked, but the stamp of her foot belied the civility of her request.
“No. Now help Zoe get down.”
“But, we wanna—”
Cara held up a finger in warning, and Heidi stopped her tirade in midsentence knowing already that to argue would mean a stint of “time-out” in the bedroom.
Fortunately, before Heidi could decide it might be worth the risk to press her luck, Cara was distracted by the sharp bleep of the phone. A quick glance at the ID box informed her that Polly Townsend was calling from one of the business’s cell phones. Polly was a fellow partner of the Mom Squad—a mother-for-hire service that Cara and three other friends had organized less than three years earlier.
“No cake,” she said again firmly, then grasped the receiver. If Polly was calling this late, there was a snag in the schedule for the evening.
It never ceased to amaze her how busy the Mom Squad was kept—especially in the evenings. Originally each of the founding partners had been searching for a way to earn a little extra money. They had never dreamed that the enterprise would bloom into a full-scale business with more requests for service than any of them could handle on their own.
“Hold on a second,” Cara said into the phone. Then she looked at the twins and pointed a finger at the floor. “Down. Right now.” Cara purposely used the no-nonsense tone that preceded a session of time-out, with the twins isolated in two different rooms. As usual, the thought of being separated—even for two minutes—was enough to dissuade the twins from disturbing the cake. Reluctantly Heidi stepped aside so that Cara could scoop Zoe from the counter and shoo her in the direction of the playroom.
Finally she was able to devote her attention to Polly. “Hi, Polly. What’s up?”
Cara had already finished the payroll checks and stacked them neatly on the counter in preparation for delivering them to the office the following morning, so she doubted the call had anything to do with her duties as the Mom Squad’s CPA.
“Melba Wilson’s daughter just called, and Melba has been taken to the hospital with an apparent appendicitis attack. They’re rushing her into surgery now.”
“My gosh, will she be okay?”
“The surgery is fairly routine, but naturally everyone’s a little worried.”
“We should send someone to be with her daughter.”
“I’ve already taken care of that. I’ve got Sharon on her way to the hospital now. She’ll keep us posted throughout the evening and see about ordering some flowers from the hospital gift shop. Our immediate problem lies in the fact that Melba had a tending job tonight. I guess she was more concerned about canceling than she was about being hospitalized. We’re stretched awfully thin. I’d go myself, but I have two job interviews to conduct later, and I haven’t been able to contact the applicants. I wondered if you’d be available. You could drop the twins off at the office. They can entertain themselves in the day care room here while I do the interviews, then I’ll bring them back to your place and watch them until you get back.”
Accustomed to filling in for such emergencies, Cara pulled a pad of paper closer. “Give me the address and the time I need to be there.”
Polly’s sigh of relief was audible. As Cara copied the information, she knew that getting to the address located on the eastern bench would be tight, but if she took a few of the back roads…
Within fifteen minutes Cara was on her way. The twins were strapped into their car seats, a bag filled with extra training pants and snacks nestled on the floor beside them. Polly was waiting for her in the parking lot of the Mom Squad offices, and it took only another few minutes to transfer the twins into her care—most of that time spent in the twins insisting on offering her numerous farewell hugs and kisses.
As she drove away and watched the girls wave to her until she turned the corner, she felt an all-too-familiar lump of emotion wedge at the base of her throat.
Zoe and Heidi had brought her so much joy—so much joy in the midst of tragedy. When Cara’s brother and sister-in-law had been killed in an auto accident a year ago, Cara had received guardianship of the fraternal twins. She’d become a mother overnight, not an easy task considering the confusion and grief that all of them had suffered after the accident. But they were doing better now. Life had begun to develop a steady routine, and the anguish wasn’t quite so strong, coming in sharp jabs from time to time rather than the ever-present waves.
Cara had the children to thank for that. Little Heidi, with her long blond hair and indigo eyes, was the ringleader of the pair. She could dream up more ways to get into trouble than Cara could anticipate. Zoe, on the other hand, was quiet, eager to please and a quick learner—facts that often escalated Heidi’s plans for adventure. But with her carrot-colored curls and cornflower-blue eyes, she often affected an expression of angelic innocence that belied her mischievous nature.
Cara sighed, knowing that the twins had brought her more happiness than she had ever thought possible. She’d already begun formal proceedings to adopt the children—the idea having been suggested in her brother’s will. Yet, if anyone had asked her only a year before if she would ever consider motherhood, she probably would have told them no. With a nasty divorce behind her, she’d been so sure she would spend the rest of her life alone. Funny the way fate could shuffle the deck and deal a hand a person had never anticipated.
Retrieving the paper with the address from her bag, Cara checked the numbers against those on the nearest street sign. She was getting close.
Making a right-hand turn, she resisted the impulse to gawk at the houses on either side of the winding road. She had entered the newer building section high on the Wasatch Bench, located to the east of Salt Lake City proper, an area reserved for homes the size of hotels. The area all but screamed of wealth and privilege.
According to Polly, their client was a lawyer. And judging by the real estate surrounding his home, he was a wildly successful one at that. Cara doubted that her yearly earnings could even pay for a building lot in the area.
In the gathering dusk, she caught a glimpse of a pair of wrought-iron gates tipped with brass. The numbers corresponded to those she’d scrawled on her planner.
“Bingo,” she whispered under her breath, rolling to a stop in front of the security monitor and pressing the call button. Within seconds her summons was answered by a baritone, “Yes?”
“Hello, Mr.—” she glanced at her paper “—Mr. Gifford. I’m Cara Wells from the Mom Squad. I believe you were notified that I would be coming to watch your children tonight rather than Melba Wilson.”
There was a soft, nearly imperceptible whirring sound from behind a small glass screen, and Cara resisted the urge to mug for the camera that had probably been focused on her. Ahh, the drawbacks of wealth. Constant security and the constant threat of risk. Cara would take concerned neighbors, dead bolts and peepholes on her doors over high-tech electronic surveillance equipment any day.
“Will you hold your ID up to the camera please.”
Evidently Mr. Gifford was even more paranoid than most, she thought as she retrieved her wallet from her purse and held it up to the lens of the camera. She didn’t think many would-be thieves or kidnappers would be riding around town in such a conspicuous van. Banking on the fact that a company car would help promote some free advertising, the Mom Squad had a small fleet of pink and blue vans complete with huge plastic booties attached to the roofs.
“Drive on in.”
With no more fanfare than that the gates slid open, allowing Cara to roll onto a brick driveway laid in a herringbone pattern.
“Pretty ritzy,” Cara murmured to herself. She grew even more impressed when the driveway began winding through stands of huge evergreens and oaks—the sort of transplanted foliage that had probably been fully grown and transplanted onto the lot within the last few years. Through the trees she caught a glimpse of emerald-green lawns, a pond complete with ducks and swans and…
Was that a deer? Was the place actually home to deer, or had they come down from the mountain and jumped the fence?
“I hope they had ID with them,” she muttered under her breath, then laughed. No, the animals had to have been transplanted onto the grounds, as well. From the encounter she’d had at the gate, she doubted Ross Gifford would ever allow anything so untidy as unwanted deer—especially if the landscaping was any indication. As she continued to wind her way up the hill, she didn’t see a stray leaf, a straggly bush or a withered flower. Everything was theme-park perfect and slightly…unreal.
“Big money,” she murmured to herself. “Big, big money.”
No wonder he was so careful about checking her out. That much money had to make a person paranoid, especially with young children around. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help wondering why Ross didn’t have a full-time nanny and a fleet of governesses. Wasn’t that what wealthy people did with their children?
Realizing she was judging the man and she hadn’t even met him yet, she took a deep breath. Rather than second-guess him, she should be relieved that Ross Gifford was a client of the Mom Squad. And the fact that he was so careful with his children’s welfare should bring him up a notch in her estimation. Cara was just as protective of the twins’ welfare, preferring to use close friends or Mom Squad associates on those rare occasions when she needed a sitter.
Without warning the trees suddenly parted and the road curved to reveal the house. A muted “Wow” burst from her lips, and she unconsciously stopped. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought she had stepped back in time. In front of her lay a modern-day castle complete with field-stone walls, mullioned windows and a pair of round turrets.
“I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore,” Cara whispered, then, realizing she’d slipped into her habit of talking to herself, she snapped her jaw closed. It wouldn’t do to talk to herself in front of Ross Gifford. Judging by this house, he was an important client to the Mom Squad. A very, very important client.
Cara immediately became conscious of her worn jeans, scuffed sneakers and finger-tossed hair. Then, frantically, she looked for a place to park, knowing the van had a tiny oil leak that she hadn’t seen to yet.
When it became obvious that the entire road was made of the same herringbone brick, she chose an inconspicuous spot next to a flowerbed. “Please, please don’t leak,” she whispered to the car, then offered the van a friendly pat on the steering wheel.
She took a moment to look in the mirror, then grimaced. The heat and her busy day had caused her hair to poke out at all angles. And even though she’d adopted a short pixie-like cut in an effort to tame the natural curls, she didn’t think her hairdresser had intended it to look so…untidy.
“Damn.” Then remembering she’d vowed not to talk to herself, she bit her lip and slid outside.
After slamming the door, Cara slung a duffel bag full of games, storybooks and puppet paraphernalia over her shoulder, then hurried up to the front door.
Even his door was rich and elegant, she decided with a grimace. It looked as if it had been carved from a single span of oak. Wrought-iron studs and huge rings rather than doorknobs carried out the castle theme.
A glance at her watch reassured her that she had arrived on the dot of seven. Since Ross Gifford already knew she had arrived, she debated whether or not to ring the doorbell. With her luck, he wouldn’t have a doorbell. More likely he had Quasimodo sequestered in one of the towers.
When the thought caused a burst of nervous laughter, she turned away to school her features. Almost against her will, her eyes absorbed the pristine landscaping and a house large enough to contain an orphanage. Just as she’d thought, there were deer grazing in the grass near the pond. The docile animals seemed perfectly at ease, and why wouldn’t they be? They must be thinking they were in deer nirvana.
“Amazing. Absolutely amazing.”
Again she pressed her lips together to keep from saying anything more out loud. She might be amazed and she might be impressed, but she had to keep her thoughts to herself. After all, she was merely the hired help for the evening. It didn’t matter that the fieldstone still held a portion of the day’s heat. Or that the colors of the rock made the house look as if it had stood on the site for hundreds of years. Nor was it any of her business that the absolute perfection of the scene gave Cara the willies—as if she were surveying a movie set and everything she saw was an illusion.
The sound of a throat being cleared caused her to jump and she turned.
He did have Quasimodo working for him.
No. Not Quasimodo, she quickly amended. The man who stood in front of her was far too tall, too rigid, too stiff and formal to be the bell-ringing hero of the twins’ favorite cartoon. His dark suit, crisp starched tie and gleaming black shoes bespoke a man who paid attention to details.
“Good evening, Miss Wells.”
The British accent immediately revealed that he wasn’t the same man who’d asked to see her identification.
“I’m from the Mom Squad.”
“Yes. We know.”
Cara wasn’t sure if the gentleman—a butler?—was using a royal we or if he included Ross in his statement.
She flushed when the butler looked at her car, and his gaze flicked to the undercarriage as if he sensed the oil that even now threatened to mar the pristine surface of the drive.
“That will be all, Stibbs. I can handle things from here. You’d best get to your opera before the curtain rises.”
The voice came from the shadowy interior of the foyer. From her vantage point in the sun, Cara’s eyes couldn’t adjust enough to give her a good glimpse of the man. She had the vague impression of height, the flash of a white shirt, but little more.
The butler nodded. “Very good, Mr. Gifford. I do have a fondness for La Bohème and I would hate to miss the overture.”
With that, Stibbs disappeared into the shadows of the house, casting one last suspicious glance at Cara’s car.
Cara saw Ross’s arm move as he glanced at his watch. “You’ve got good timing.”
Cara fought the urge to curtsy like some housemaid being complimented by the lord of the manor.
At that moment Ross stepped forward, and the sun slid over his body. The light caressed dark hair still wet from a shower, craggy angular features and a lean athletic body.
Wow.
Cara wasn’t usually a person who was bowled over by mere looks, but she had to admit that Ross Gifford was pleasing to the eye—even a jaundiced eye like her own. His hair was short, dark and swept back from his forehead. His features were sharp and elegant—the sort of face that graced the covers of men’s magazines and fitness reports. And his eyes…
They were dark brown, piercing and infinitely bleak.
All too soon Cara was reminded that Ross Gifford was a widower with a pair of twins on his hands. His children were about the same age as hers from what she could remember Polly telling her when she’d dropped the twins off.
“I’ve got twins,” Ross stated bluntly.
Cara noted that his hand remained on the door-jamb as if he fully expected her to turn and run.
“Yes, I know that.”
Even if she’d wanted to change her mind, she couldn’t have moved. His eyes held her pinned to the spot like a rabbit caught in the beam of a car’s headlights. She didn’t need the elegance of her surroundings to convey to her that this was a powerful man. Everything about him radiated strength and control.
“They’re three.”
She resisted the urge to smile. “I have twins myself, so I’m sure I’m up to the challenge.”
He stared at her, and she grew infinitely self-conscious of her attire. She should have taken the time to—
To what? She had come to spend the evening tending a pair of twins. She hadn’t come here to impress Ross Gifford with anything other than her mothering skills.
“Can you give me an overview of your credentials?”
Credentials? Was she going to be interviewed for a few hours’ worth of work?
“What kind of education do you have?”
Cara fought the urge to offer a pithy reply. “I have a master’s degree in philosophy and economics.”
“I didn’t think a person could actually get a job with a master’s in philosophy.”
Of all the nerve.
Her nerves stretched tight. “I find it immensely helpful when spending the evening with toddlers. You’d be amazed how many of them are well-versed in Descartes.”
Although she’d tried to keep her tone light, there was enough of a bite to it that Ross must have realized she didn’t appreciate being grilled.
His lips twitched in a self-deprecating grimace. “I hope you’ll bear with me. My children can be a…challenge. I merely wanted to make sure they would be in good hands.”
His shoulders shifted as if his jacket had grown too tight, and Cara wondered how many sitters had refused to help him before he’d come to the Mom Squad.
“I should have known your agency would send someone equal to the task,” he said, ushering her in with a wave of his hand. “Melba is a jewel. I was sorry to hear she was rushed to the hospital. How is she?”
“In surgery now, but I’ll be getting calls updating her progress throughout the evening.”
Ross nodded, absorbing the information with the intensity of a man being given stock-market quotes. “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep me posted. The twins and I are very fond of Melba.”
“I’ll do that.”
Without another word Ross turned, making his way toward a wide, sweeping staircase. “Sorry for the rush, but I’ve got less than an hour to get to a benefit dinner.”
“No problem.”
She followed him up the lushly carpeted staircase, trying her best not to look as if she were gawking. The staircase was a sweeping expanse of rich wood carved with wild animals, flowers and vines. The pale carpet underfoot looked too rich to be anything but wool.
Ross Gifford’s house was immense, with high-pitched ceilings, stark white walls and pale ice-white carpets. Except for occasional splashes of color from jewel-toned pillows and the rich woodwork, everything seemed pale and colorless….
And sterile.
Again she was reminded of the fact that this man was a widower. There had been no feminine touches added to the house, no knickknacks, no family photographs, no scattered toys. If not for her job assignment, there would have been no clues that children lived here. No clues that anyone lived here at all.
Again she was filled with the sensation of having entered a showplace for the Parade of Homes design competition and the thought filled her with sadness. The house had so much promise. So much effort had been expended to make it look beautiful, but no one as yet had taken the time to make it feel like a home.
Only once did she get a hint that a family lived here. Midway down the corridor she saw a portrait of a woman with bright-red hair and piercing blue eyes.
Was this Ross’s late wife?
Cara felt a twinge of sadness. How long had Ross Gifford’s wife been gone? Months? Years? Were the occupants of this house still mourning her passing?
“There’s a small kitchenette in the children’s wing.”
Wing? His children had a wing to themselves?
“The play area is located in the south turret, and their rooms are on either side. I’ve left my pager number, my cell number and a list of emergency contacts taped on the refrigerator. The twins have already eaten, but they may want a small snack before bedtime. Stibbs has left some fruit, milk and wheat-germ cookies.”
Wheat-germ cookies? No doubt they were healthy but they sounded less than appealing.
“The children need to be in bed promptly at 8:00 p.m. Their pajamas are waiting on the counter in the bathroom. They’ll need to be bathed first.”
“Of course.” Ross’s tone was so clipped Cara had the sensation of being briefed for battle.
“Other than that, the twins can be a handful once they realize I’ve left them for the evening, but they are usually well behaved. If they act out in any way, feel free to give them a paddling, but I’ve rarely found such a measure necessary.”
Cara bit her lip to keep from saying that she was a proponent of time-out rather than spanking. It wasn’t any of her business how Ross chose to discipline his children.
“If you have any problems at all, please call me. I’ve made arrangements to leave early, so I should be home no later than eleven.”
He stopped in front of a set of double doors. Glancing at his watch, he depressed the brass handle. “I won’t stay other than to quickly introduce you. If the children catch on that I’m going somewhere without them, they’ll scream and cry. They handle things better if I go quickly.”
“That’s fine. I’m sure we’ll all have a great evening together.”
Ross’s brow creased. “I wouldn’t go at all if there were any way to get out of this event. But…”
Despite his stern manner, her heart warmed at his apparent reluctance to leave the children even for a few hours. “We’ll be fine. Feel free to call if you want to check on us.”
“No. That won’t be necessary. I’ve always had good luck with the people sent by your agency.” He paused, opened his mouth as if to say something, then clearly thought better of it. “Well, here goes…”
In one smooth motion he opened up the door, revealing a child’s fantasy playroom on the other side.
“Becca, Brianne…this is Melba’s friend, Cara. She’s come to play with you for a little while. You be good for her, okay?”
In that instant a pair of children came running from the other side of the room, moving into Cara’s line of sight.
And in the space of a heartbeat, the bottom dropped out of her world.
Chapter Two
Somehow Cara managed to hold on to her instinctive cry until she heard the whisper of Ross’s footsteps disappear down the hall. Even so, she didn’t dare move until the slam of the door was followed by the low growl of his car.
The trembling began in her extremities, moving inward until she was forced to grip the doorjamb to remain upright. Her eyes were glued to the children playing on the floor in front of her. As much as her mind rebelled against what she saw, the twins were so like her own—one a carrottop with cornflower-blue eyes; the other a strawberry-blonde with deep-indigo eyes. If not for the way the girls’ haircuts were different—short and left to curl naturally—Cara would have believed that her own little girls had been brought to the house as part of an elaborate joke.
But they weren’t her twins. When Ross’s twins looked at her there was no recognition in their gazes. Instead they broke into hysterical cries and rushed to the window overlooking the drive.
“Daddy! Daddy, don’t leave us!” one of them cried while the other pounded on the glass and sobbed.
They were “Daddy’s girls.” Heidi and Zoe had adored their father, as well. It had taken months for them to stop asking for Cara’s brother. Now they tended to be reticent around males, probably because their world was more generally populated with women.
“Shh, shh, there’s no need to cry.”
Cara’s instincts sent her body into autopilot. Pushing her own confusion aside, she quickly comforted the little girls, then showed them the treasures she’d brought with her in the duffel bag.
Soon the twins were assembling a floor puzzle decorated with cartoon animals. Yet, they must have sensed something in her manner because they regarded her now and again with concern and a hint of shyness.
Cara’s smile was hollow and automatic. She felt numb, even though her limbs continued to tremble with shock and disbelief.
Cara’s children were rarely shy. They raced up to engage strangers in conversation as if meeting long-lost friends. But these youngsters…
No. They weren’t her children. They were two completely different individuals.
Cara’s stomach flip-flopped in sudden dread, and she sank into a child-size chair drawn up to a gaily painted table. In a rush she remembered the many times that her brother had teased his wife about the origins of Zoe’s red hair. Patrick, her brother, had Cara’s own strawberry-blond hair and indigo eyes, while his wife, Deirdre, had been a dark brunette with brown eyes.
Several times they had all joked halfheartedly that one of the twins had been switched at birth. After all, there had been a horrible blizzard the night the children were born, resulting in a blackout through much of northern Utah. Although the hospital’s power had been running, due to an emergency generator, the weather had caused more than eight women to go into labor at the same time. Heidi and Zoe had been born in an ambulance en route to the hospital, and there had been rumors that another couple had given birth to twins in the hallway. Both women had been forced to wait in the corridor until rooms could become available for them and their babies could be taken the nursery.
Suddenly the family joke didn’t seem nearly so funny. Was it possible that two sets of identical twins really had been switched during their stay in the hospital? Had that error created two sets of fraternal twins from what had once been two sets of identical twins? Had Deirdre accidentally brought home little Zoe, when in reality Zoe had no biological ties to the family that had raised her?
Cara’s head swam at the very idea. But even as her brain tried to tell her that she was overreacting and the whole situation was a horrible joke, her heart suspected the truth. Somehow she knew her theory was right and that two sets of identical twins had been “jumbled up” before being sent home with their parents, creating two sets of fraternal twins. As impossible as it sounded, it was the only logical explanation for the girls.
Raking her fingers through her hair, Cara took a deep, shuddering breath. Think. Think.
What was she going to do now? What was she supposed to do now?
Why couldn’t she think!
Fortunately Ross’s children seemed unaware of her turmoil. Fighting her fear and panic, Cara dragged the duffel toward her and reached into one of the pockets, removing her cell phone.
Her fingers shook so badly it took three tries before Cara was able to punch in the numbers. One ring. Two.
“Come on, Polly, please,” Cara whispered, her eyes still glued to Ross Gifford’s twins.
They were growing unsettled by her rapt attention. Whispering to themselves, they pushed their puzzle a few feet farther away from Cara and resumed their play.
So quiet. Cara’s twins were rarely quiet and rarely still. She couldn’t ever remember them sitting in one place for more than a few minutes at a time, let alone quietly working on a puzzle. Becca and Brianne didn’t even talk much to each other. Instead, they worked together in a way that revealed how accustomed they were to anticipating each other’s needs.
Dear sweet heaven above, how could this have happened?
Cara watched them for what seemed like hours, the phone clutched against her cheek.
No, it wasn’t hours. She’d only just arrived. She’d only just dialed the phone.
“Hello, this is Polly Townsend. How can I help you?”
Cara gripped the phone so hard it creaked. In the background, she could hear the happy squeals of her own twins.
Heidi and Zoe were safe. They were with Polly. This wasn’t a horrible joke.
“Polly?” She opened her mouth, then realized she didn’t know what to say. Dear heaven above, she didn’t even know how to explain what was wrong. All she knew was that she was suddenly afraid. Deeply, terrifyingly afraid.
“Cara?” When Cara didn’t immediately respond, Polly’s tone sharpened in concern. “What’s wrong? Didn’t you find the Gifford house?”
“Yes. Yes, I’m here now.”
“Has something happened to the children? Melba told me once that they are terribly attached to their father. Sometimes they cry for a while after he leaves.”
Wrong? No, nothing was wrong with the children. They were beautiful. Completely and totally perfect.
Cara sobbed. “Polly, can you get someone to take the twins home and watch them for a little while. I need you to come over as soon as you’ve finished there.”
Polly didn’t argue about finding a sitter for the twins. Instead, her voice sharpened with concern. “What’s up?”
“You won’t believe it unless you see it.”
“‘It?’ Cara you’re scaring me. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Unable to think of another way of breaking the news, Cara blurted out, “Polly, I think a mistake was made. With the twins. When they were born.”
There was a pause on the other end.
“I don’t understand, Cara. Are Gifford’s children sick or something?”
“No.” Cara bit her lip when the word emerged as another ragged sob.
“Cara, tell me what’s wrong.”
The sobs came swifter now and stronger. “Polly, Ross Gifford’s children look like Heidi and Zoe. Exactly like Heidi and Zoe. I think a mistake was made on the night they were born. I think one of each set of twins was switched at the hospital and was sent home with the wrong mothers.”
Her announcement was met with stunned silence. “Cara, that doesn’t make any sense. Are you telling me that…”
Polly’s words trailed away, and Cara quickly filled the quiet with her own words. “I’m telling you that Ross Gifford has one twin that looks like Heidi and one that looks like Zoe. And I think I’ve just unknowingly opened Pandora’s box.”
LESS THAN TWENTY MINUTES PASSED before Polly arrived, bringing with her the other partners of the Mom Squad, Bettina Wilfordson and Grace Abbington. By the time the company van pulled into the drive, Cara had bathed Ross’s children and tucked them into bed. But where Heidi and Zoe would have dawdled over the tasks, Becca and Brianne had gone to bed with a near military-like efficiency—giving Cara a clear indication that Ross Gifford was a man who liked keeping to a schedule.
Cara sank onto the couch and nibbled at her fingernail while the two women peeked in on the sleeping children. But the moment Cara caught sight of their stunned expressions, she knew that she had not overreacted.
“This is freaky,” Polly whispered as she sank into a rocker.
Bettina sank cross-legged on the carpet, her skirt billowing around her. For once Bettina—who generally spoke of the effects of past lives and bad karma on everyday events—was silent.
Grace eyed Cara in concern. “So what are you going to do?”
Cara shrugged, unable to think. Her mind kept going in circles, reviewing her first glimpse of Ross’s girls. She was numb and confused, her stomach knotting with a deep inexpressible fear.
“You could ignore the whole situation and continue on as before,” Polly suggested.
Bettina gasped as if the cosmic forces of the universe were shuddering at the very idea. “Both sets of twins once shared the intimacy of the womb. Their psyches have unconsciously orchestrated this reunion. To separate them again would be a tragedy.”
“Let’s leave the Fates out of this please,” Grace inserted quickly before Bettina could begin elaborating on psychic bonds. “I think we would be better off focusing on the present reality of the situation.”
Cara bit her lip. “Ross Gifford has to be told.”
If Cara had expected her friends to talk her out of the idea, the silence of the room confirmed her worst fears. Yes. He would have to be told.
“How…when?” she stammered faintly.
“The sooner the better,” Bettina offered. “To hold on to such a secret would eat at your soul.”
“True, but I think before you start telling the man anything, you’d best think things through,” Polly said.
“Polly is right.” Grace sank onto the cushion next to Cara and took her hand. “You’ve got to look at this from every angle. And when the time comes, you’ll have to tell Ross.” She gave Cara a look of concern. “But not tonight. As much as you might want to blurt things out the minute you see him, I think you’d better consult with a lawyer before you do anything.”
“I agree,” Polly offered. “I could call Bert Morton and get you into his office tomorrow morning.”
Cara took a deep shuddering breath. “And until then?”
The other women exchanged concerned gazes.
“We’ll take over the rest of the evening for you. Why don’t you go home, put your feet up—” Grace began.
“No.”
Cara wasn’t aware that she’d said the word aloud until the force of it surprised even her.
“No, I’ve got to stay and finish out the evening.” Cara prayed that her friends wouldn’t push her for an explanation. She wasn’t sure why she wanted to stay. But she needed to be here. She needed to see Ross’s children again, to study them for long minutes in the darkness of their rooms. Maybe then she would be able to sort things out for herself and bring her reeling thoughts into line.
“No, I’ll stay. Ross Gifford was nervous enough about leaving his children for the evening. I won’t give him any more reason for concern. From the look of things, this man has more money than God. I don’t think it would be good for business to do anything to upset him.”
It was easy to see from her partners’ faces that they had already come to the same conclusion but had been willing to support her needs first.
“Really,” she insisted with more strength than she felt, “I’ll be fine.”
Eventually Cara was able to convince her friends that she wasn’t in immediate danger of becoming hysterical. Even so, it was more than an hour later when the women finally climbed into the van. Cara stood at the nursery window, watching them drive away. Hoping she looked natural, she smiled and waved.
But the smile died the moment the van was lost from view.
The quiet of the house settled around her. The central air created an artificial draft that should have been pleasant but made her feel chilled instead.
Idly her gaze swept over the lawn, the artificial pond, the distant glimpse of a winding footpath and a rock bridge.
Such a beautiful home.
In the darkness Ross’s estate seemed even more removed from the real world. Subdued lighting had been cleverly camouflaged to make it look as if the grounds were flooded in moonlight. From her vantage point, she could see the deer grazing beneath the trees, the ducks sleeping in the reeds, their heads tucked beneath their wings.
So serene. So beautiful. So surreal.
Once again Cara had the feeling that she had been plunged into the middle of a picture postcard or a movie set. If only she’d been given some hint of what she would find here. Maybe if she’d been more prepared…
But how could anyone be prepared for what she’d found here?
Without warning, the phone on the wall bleeped. Cara jumped, her hand flying to her chest as if to keep her heart from leaping free.
Taking a deep breath, she lifted the receiver. “This is the Gifford residence, may I help you?”
“This is Ross. I’m on my way home now.”
There was a pause, and Cara wondered how she was supposed to respond to his blunt announcement.
Yes, sir?
Whatever you say, sir?
“Very good, Mr. Gifford.” Damn. That sounded like something the stuffy Stibbs might say.
“How have things gone?”
Again, her stomach flip-flopped. Then, with the realization that she would soon be confronting Ross face-to-face, she fought a flash of dizziness.
What was she going to do?
What was she going to say?
“Miss Wells?”
“Th-the children were wonderful. They’re sleeping soundly right now.”
“Did you have any problems when I left?”
Such as her well-ordered existence tumbling down around her ears?
“No. They were fine.”
There was a beat of silence.
“Really?”
“Yes.” Then she quickly amended, “They cried a bit when they realized you were gone, but I was able to divert their attention with a puzzle.”
“I’m impressed. Even Melba has a hard time getting them to sleep. They tend to get nervous and whiney unless I’m home.”
“Then they must have been very tired because they didn’t put up a fuss.”
“And how is Melba?”
Cara had been so embroiled in her own concerns, she’d forgotten to phone Ross with an update as she’d promised. “She’s out of surgery and doing well.”
“That’s good news. I’ll see you in five minutes.”
A click in her ear let her know the call had been terminated, and for some unaccountable reason she was miffed at the sudden dismissal. He’d hung up without so much as a word of farewell as if she were…
An employee.
But wasn’t that exactly what she was? In fact, she couldn’t even lay claim to that much of a role in his life. She was a “temp” of sorts who had been hired to fill in for a few hours. And now instead of slipping out of his life as easily as she’d drifted in, she was here…
To stay?
No. Despite what she had discovered, she wasn’t about to become a part of Ross Gifford’s life. They would sort out this mess and she would go back to her routine.
But even as she insisted such a thing to herself, she instinctively knew that she was underestimating the effects of the newfound knowledge. No matter what happened from this point on, she and Ross would be forever linked, due to an error made by a hospital employee years earlier.
Her nerves stretched even tighter, threatening to snap. More than anything she wanted to go home, curl up in the rocking chair in her children’s bedroom and surround herself in all that was comfortable and familiar. But before she would be able to do that, she would have to “make small talk” with an important client. She would have to summon all of her inner strength so that she gave no hint of the turmoil roiling just below the surface of her artificial calm.
Five minutes. She had five minutes before…
Before what? She had already decided to take Grace’s advice. There would be no late-night confessions. As long as she kept her cool, Ross Gifford would remain blissfully ignorant of the hospital’s mistake. Until then…
Until then nothing would happen. Nothing whatsoever.
But as she pressed a trembling hand to her chest, she realized a part of her wasn’t completely convinced. Her heart was racing as if she’d run a mile.
The whir of the garage-door opener disturbed the stillness of the house. Her heart leaped in her breast, then seemed to sink into the pit of her stomach.
Keep your cool. Just keep your cool.
Suddenly galvanized into action, she hurried around the nursery, repacking her supplies and stuffing them willy-nilly into the duffel bag. As soon as she’d said her goodbyes, she would go home. Once there, she could reassure herself that her own twins were safe and well and tucked into their own beds.
“It’s quiet.”
Ross’s voice caused Cara to jump, and she whirled to face him, her pulse racing more than ever.
“You startled me,” she gasped, then wished she’d remained silent when her voice sounded slightly frantic even to her own ears.
A crease appeared between Ross’s brow, but other than that, he didn’t seem overly concerned by her reaction. “Sorry. I thought you would have heard the car.”
She caught his gaze only momentarily, then returned her attention to the toys.
“How was your evening?”
“Fine.”
So much for chitchat. Ross turned away from her, moving from one bedroom to the next checking on the girls. She waited in tense expectation as if simply by seeing the twins he would guess that something was wrong.
“They look no worse for wear.”
Cara didn’t know how she was supposed to react to such a remark. Insulted, probably. He made it sound as if he’d been expecting the worst.
“They’re beautiful children.” Just as her own children were beautiful. “You must be very proud.” Just as Cara was inestimably proud.
She bit her lip. Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything. Had a note of fondness crept into her tone? One that she felt for her own children?
To her dismay she realized that all of the toys were packed away and the room was tidy. As her heart seemed to sink into her stomach, Cara realized that she had no other option but to look him square in the eye.
She could only pray that he wouldn’t look at her and know her life had been shaken to its very core.
Chapter Three
Cara felt a jolt of something akin to electricity shoot through her system when their gazes locked, but she quickly dismissed the reaction, knowing that her nerves were strung as tightly as a tennis racket.
“I’m impressed at the way you were able to get them to bed so easily,” Ross said. “Usually the girls are very fractious with a new sitter.”
Fractious. Cara was sure that she’d never heard anyone use the word in a sentence before. But she shouldn’t be so surprised. Ross Gifford was obviously very educated and sophisticated. He probably said and did a lot of things that were beyond her daily realm. He belonged to the same world as her ex-husband. One filled with pomp and ceremony and an overwhelming interest in appearances. Hadn’t she learned that lesson more than once where Elliot was concerned? He’d been so consumed with the need to look and speak the part of a cultured man of the world that she hadn’t known what a bastard she’d married until she’d discovered that he was spending most of his time with another woman.
“In fact, I usually have problems with the girls even if I leave them with someone with whom they are acquainted.
She shrugged. “Surely they’ve done well with Melba. She must be used to their routines by now.”
“Yes, but even when she visits, they won’t go to bed as easily as you’ve said. If Melba manages to convince them to sleep, they wake up as soon as they hear the car in the garage.”
“Like I said, maybe they were tired out. They didn’t give me a bit of trouble all night.”
One of his brows lifted. “Really?”
He seemed so surprised that Cara asked, “Were you expecting a riot?”
He took a deep breath and seemed to consider his words. “Frankly, judging from past babysitting experiences, I was expecting crying, screaming and tantrums that would continue unabated for hours on end.”
Cara couldn’t help quipping, “From the children or their baby-sitter?”
His lips tugged in the faintest hint of a grin—one that made her breath catch in her throat.
“Both, actually.”
“Why? They seem like perfect angels to me.”
“Then they were definitely on their best behavior.” His eyes narrowed and she felt him studying her. Her heart knocked against her ribs when she wondered what he saw there. Could some hint of the shock she’d experienced still linger on her face despite her efforts to remain calm?
Ross’s gaze was intent but not suspicious. Instead, he looked at her the way that…
The way that a man looked at a woman when he was interested.
No. Cara immediately pushed the idea aside. She was overreacting, that was all. Her thoughts and her emotions were off-kilter. She was confused and unsettled.
So why was she lingering when the time had come for her to leave?
“I…I should go now,” she said. “I’m sure you’ve had a long day.”
Ross offered her a curt nod and tugged at his tie, making her overtly conscious of the lean strength of his fingers and the slight dusting of hair on the backs of his hands.
“It has been a long day, but I tend to get a little wired after one of these evenings. Will you join me for some coffee?”
No. Absolutely not.
But even as the inner voice warned her, she was so startled by the invitation that she found herself saying instead, “Sure.”
“Good.”
He dragged the tie free from his collar and released the top button at his collar. Then a second button. A third.
Cara found her gaze latching on to that vee of flesh exposed against the crisp white of his dress shirt. He really was a good-looking man.
Perhaps a little too good-looking.
Cara didn’t trust that quality in a man, either. Elliot had been male-model handsome, but she had discovered soon enough that the outer beauty camouflaged a weak character.
So why, after vowing to herself that she wouldn’t be caught in the same trap again, did she feel the faint stirrings of attraction?
No. Absolutely not! She didn’t find him in the least bit attractive.
But even as she insisted as much to herself, a tingling awareness spread through her veins as he extended a hand toward her.
“I’ll carry that for you.”
Unconsciously Cara clutched the duffel bag even more securely—as if it were a shield to protect her from…
From what?
There was nothing about Ross Gifford’s appearance or manner to make her feel threatened. In fact, the sadness that cloaked his features made her feel as if she should be doing something for him rather than for herself.
But as she admitted the twinge of concern, she knew that she couldn’t give in to such emotions. She couldn’t dwell on her physical reaction to the man. She couldn’t afford that luxury. Such emotions would simply complicate the situation—and heaven only knew her current predicament was already untenable.
Since Ross was still waiting, she reluctantly handed him the duffel bag, all the while wishing she hadn’t agreed to stay for coffee. She was playing with fire and had no doubts that she would get burned.
Ross led the way through the big, silent house, offering Cara glimpses of rooms that were lushly decorated but curiously devoid of color. At long last they reached the kitchen with its white cabinets, pale tile and pale marble counters.
Who was responsible for the absence of color in the house? Was it a designer’s decision or had Ross made the choice?
“Have a seat,” Ross said, gesturing to a pair of stools drawn up to an ornate center island.
“Decaf or regular coffee,” he asked.
“Decaf.”
Ross shrugged out of his jacket and laid it over a chair. As he moved to prepare the coffee, her gaze immediately latched on to the crisp starched shirt. The long evening had rumpled the fabric at his back.
Cara didn’t know why, but the sight was oddly intimate and exciting. Inexplicably Cara found herself wondering who starched those shirts, ironed them and hung them in his closet. A cleaning service? A housekeeper? Stibbs?
Or a woman who had already begun to heal his grieving heart?
“So…you’re a regular with the Mom Squad?”
She jumped, her gaze bouncing away from Ross when he suddenly turned and caught her staring.
“Yes. I’m one of the founding partners.”
One of his brows rose. He had dark eyes, expressive eyes, and even when he was apparently relaxed, they were filled with such a poignant sadness that Cara wanted to take him into her arms.
Stop it! The man isn’t a wounded bird to bring home and keep warm in a shoebox.
But hadn’t she always had a soft heart for wounded animals and strays? Isn’t that how she’d found herself marrying her first husband? She’d met Elliot when he’d been on the rebound from a three-year relationship, and she’d been determined to make him smile again.
Little had she known…
“If you’re one of the founding partners of the Mom Squad, why are you still taking baby-sitting jobs?” Ross asked, bringing her thoughts abruptly back to the present.
Not wanting to wallow in the past, Cara concentrated on the man in front of her instead. There was a simple grace to his movements as he measured the grounds and water into a gleaming stainless steel coffeemaker. Then he reached into an overhead cabinet for mugs. She watched transfixed as his shirt pulled taut, revealing the muscular outlines of his back.
Ross Gifford was certainly fit. Healthy.
Beautiful.
Cara forced herself to look away. “I’m the company accountant, but I fill in when there’s a need.”
“Your husband doesn’t object to the late nights?”
“My husband?” Briefly, she thought of Elliot. Elliot definitely would have complained about the late hours if she hadn’t left their relationship long before the Mom Squad was formed.
“You mentioned you had twin girls.”
She stared at him blankly, her pulse knocking at her throat, then realized that she had offered the information before she’d seen Ross’s children.
He doesn’t know anything. Keep your cool.
“Yes. They’re…three.” The information was offered carefully, slowly. She watched Ross for a hint of unease but there was no reaction—not that she should have expected one.
“Boys or girls?”
Her heart thumped again.
“Girls.”
“Twins can be a handful, can’t they?”
She nodded. “They’re a challenge at times, especially for a new mom.”
He leaned his hips against the counter. “New mom?”
“The children are…were my brother’s, actually. But he was killed a year ago. Since then the girls have lived with me.”
For a moment the room thrummed with the reminder that life could be changed in a heartbeat. Then Ross straightened and reached into cupboards again, removing sugar and spoons, then grabbed a carton of cream from the refrigerator.
“So you’re a single mom?”
Now why did it seem as if he’d put a slight emphasis on the word single?
“Yes. I was married once. Briefly.” Enough. He doesn’t need to know any of this. He’s merely making polite conversation. “What happened?”
She shrugged, hoping that she didn’t appear as vulnerable and exposed as she felt.
“My husband…my ex-husband and I grew apart.”
The simple reply was an understatement. Elliot Wells was charismatic, charming and driven. As CEO of a fast-track marketing firm, he had dazzled her with his sophistication and discipline. He’d wooed her with wildly romantic rendezvous, expensive gifts and just the right amount of flattery and adoration.
But soon after marrying him, Cara had discovered that Elliot was a control freak who had married her because she made an excellent “trophy wife.” She was beautiful and biddable—the perfect requirements in Elliot’s estimation. Little had she known that Elliot kept a mistress on the side—someone who was passionate and spontaneous but not an acceptable business hostess.
“I take it the divorce wasn’t amicable.”
She grimaced. “How can you tell?”
“The long silence speaks volumes, I’m afraid.”
“As I said, we grew apart. Soon we didn’t have the same goals for the future. Elliot wanted to make as much money in as little time as possible.”
“And what did you want?”
She didn’t even have to think. “Happiness.”
“Have you found it?”
Her smile was quick. “Yes. In a pair of irascible twins.”
Ross filled their mugs with coffee and handed her one. Then he took a seat on the nearest stool.
She was immediately conscious of the firm musculature revealed beneath the fine fabric of his trousers. She could all but feel the heat of his body seeping into her own.
Cara took a quick sip of coffee, then gulped and began to cough when it burned her tongue.
“It’s hot,” Ross offered too late.
She laughed, then coughed again. Ross smiled—briefly, ever so briefly, but long enough for his amusement to momentarily chase away the shadows in his eyes. And at that moment she saw a glimpse of just how devastatingly handsome this man could be when he wasn’t so sober.
Setting his own mug on the counter, Ross pounded her obligingly on the back. In an instant the frivolity of the moment faded away leaving a potent awareness.
Without warning, Cara felt his fingers still against her spine, then spread wide over her shoulders. Before she could fully prepare herself, there was a slight pressure against her spine and he drew her irresistibly toward him.
Inch by inch. Heartbeat by heartbeat. Closer and closer until…
Cara knew he meant to kiss her, and her brain whispered a word of warning. But suddenly she didn’t care. She didn’t care that she was opening herself to heartache. She didn’t care that her relationship to this man was doomed from the very beginning. All that mattered was this instant.
This kiss.
Ross closed the last few inches with aching slowness. At long last his mouth settled upon hers, questioningly at first, then with greater strength and assurance.
He feels so good, so strong, so…male.
In an instant her hunger ignited in a flashpoint of need. Ross returned in kind until any emotional restraints they might offer were lost as they clung to each other, passion flaring white-hot and unexpected.
Cara’s arms swept around his shoulders, and she leaned close to the man, allowing him to press her close to the hard strength of his chest. A part of her knew that what she was doing was dangerous. She was kissing a man who might someday make a claim on one of the twins. But with his arms around her, she couldn’t think that far. She was consumed with a need like nothing she had ever felt before. And the pleasure…sweet heaven, she had never felt such pleasure in Elliot’s arms! Ross knew just how to hold her, caress her, kiss her, to make her feel cherished and desirable, beautiful and seductive.
And she hadn’t felt that way in a very long time. Not since returning home early from a dinner with her friends to discover her husband was making love to another woman in the same bed that she’d shared with him only the night before.
Suddenly starving for air, the two of them broke apart. But the need thrummed between them even more potently, swamping whatever restraints they might have cared to impose.
Cara had never experienced anything like this before. She was normally so careful around men. After her divorce she’d rarely dated—and that had been by her own choosing.
But as she looked into the dark depths of Ross’s eyes, she was lost again. When he reached for her, she didn’t resist. This time their embrace was slow and lingering and infinitely sensual. Her hands spread wide over his back, sweeping low to tug the hem of his shirt free, then explore the bare flesh beneath. His hissing inhalation told her that he must have felt the same jolt of electricity that coursed through her fingertips the moment she’d grazed the sensitive skin. The very thought that she could incite such a reaction filled her with an even hotter passion.
“We’ve got to stop,” he rasped against her throat. But rather than end the embrace, he trailed his tongue along a particularly sensitive nerve, causing her to gasp.
This time it was her turn to pull him to her for a kiss. Again, she was struck by the differences between Elliot and this near stranger. Elliot had been a sloppy kisser—too wet, too intrusive. But Ross…
Ross knew just when to advance, to retreat. When to stroke, when to tease.
She moaned deep in her throat, slowly losing her touch with reality. There was only this man. This kiss.
Without warning, a high-pitched bleeping noise split the silence. The two of them sprang apart as if a shot had rung through the room.
It took a moment for Cara to realize the sound was coming from her duffel bag.
“My phone,” she gasped, dodging toward the bag. The noise increased as she removed the receiver from its pocket and punched the send button.
“Yes?”
Did she really sound that breathless? That out of control?
“Cara? Are you all right?”
Polly.
“Yes. Yes, I’m fine.”
“You sound strained. Did something happen when Ross came home? Did he find out there was a problem?”
Cara automatically smoothed her hair, even though Polly couldn’t possibly see her. “No. I’m…I’m still here.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing, I just stayed for coffee, that’s all.”
“You did what?” Polly’s tone was incredulous.
Suddenly Cara felt like a teenager who’d broken curfew. If Polly was this shocked that Cara had stayed for coffee, imagine her reaction if she knew the full details. “I should be home in about ten minutes.”
“You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, yes. I’ll see you soon.”
Cara terminated the call before Polly’s concern communicated itself through the slight noises that Ross must be able to hear.
“Trouble?”
“No. Just the…ah…baby-sitter.”
“You hired a baby-sitter so that you could come tend my kids?”
“Not exactly. One of my partners was watching them. She thought I would be back by now.”
“Ah.”
The silence pulsed between them, fraught with the memories of the passionate embrace they had just shared.
Staring at Ross, she saw her own discomfort reflected in his eyes. They had just shared a terribly intimate embrace and yet they were strangers. Complete and total strangers?
So what did they do now? What were they supposed to say to each other?
Cara was the first to speak. “I, uh…I’ve got to go.”
So why wasn’t she moving?
Ross nodded, his eyes never leaving her face. “Sure. I understand. After all, I know all about getting back in time to relieve the sitter.” His lips twitched in something akin to chagrin. The expression had a little-boy charm that tugged at her heart. Before grief had tainted this man’s expression, he must have been devastating. If a slight twitch of his lips had the ability to knock at her defenses, what would a full-blown smile do?
Just as quickly as the smile had appeared, it disappeared again. He grew instantly serious, and she regretted the hint of gentleness. Before she could reconcile herself to the transformation, Ross was once again the epitome of a powerful businessman. In a heartbeat, the approachable person who had kissed her so spontaneously disappeared so completely, she might have imagined the interlude if her body didn’t still tremble with the aftereffects.
“Listen…” Ross slid a hand into the pocket of his trousers and stared down at the toe of his shoe. “I want you to know I don’t usually go around…kissing my baby-sitters.”
She hitched the duffel bag over her shoulder, her own cheeks growing hot. “Of course not, and I don’t—”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
Again the room shimmered in a heavy silence.
“Well,” she whispered. “I’ve got to go.”
He gently lifted the bag, relieving her of its weight. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
As they made their way to the front of the house, Cara was even more conscious of Ross beside her—and the awareness frightened her.
What was wrong with her? She’d sworn off men after Elliot. What was it about this particular male that urged her to abandon all those heartfelt promises? Had she totally lost her mind? Why couldn’t she remember everything that was at stake as soon as Ross discovered the truth about their children?
Needing something to distract her from her troubling behavior and the uncertainty of the future, Cara asked, “So what do you do, Ross? For a living, I mean.”
“I’m a lawyer.”
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