Читать книгу Daddyhood - Gayle Kaye, Gayle Kaye - Страница 9

Dr. Sabrina Moore glanced out over her audience in the small community-college auditorium, smiling at the group of young moms, and one dad, who sat listening to her. The dad had come in late, looking harried and restless as he sat in the back row, somewhat apart from the others.

In seven cities around the country in as many days, she’d given this discussion on the joys and problems of raising twins, promoting her new book, Multiples. The text was a compilation of her years researching twins, triplets, even quadruplets and one rare set of quints.

She’d saved her final round of talks on her busy tour for Denver—her home—and she was glad to be back. The tour had proved tiring and stressful and she wanted nothing more than to unwind.

Her gaze went to the man in the back row again. In his right hand he clutched a copy of her book, and a little thrill of excitement rippled through her. She shifted in her chair, fully expecting him to come up afterward and ask her to autograph it for him, or maybe for his wife.

She was still having a little trouble getting used to all this fame and attention. She’d devoted so much of her life to research, had hidden herself away in quiet, safe, academia for so long, she’d forgotten there was a real world out there.

Shuffling her notes, she went on with her talk, trying to keep her attention off the man in the last row and on the subject at hand. Maybe it was because she had so few men sit in on her sessions that he garnered her attention.

Or maybe it was that he was such a handsome specimen of fatherhood, with a strong square jaw and hair the nut-brown color of an acorn. He wore it slightly long, just brushing the collar of his light blue shirt that stretched across impossibly broad shoulders.

It wasn’t like Sabrina to scrutinize her audience— she’d never done it before now—and she tore her gaze away, concentrating on the group closer to the front.

Questions and answers followed the discussion, along with a brisk sale of copies of her book—which was the reason she was there, after all. That and to share the knowledge of her extensive research.

Her work at the Sherwood Institute was important to her. In fact, since her marriage fell apart a year ago, it had been everything to her. The one bright spot in her life, the one constant, and she poured her heart and soul into it. All her energies.

Sabrina spoke a friendly word to the last mother who’d come forward to purchase her book, remembering the woman had told her at the beginning of the session that she and her husband were the proud parents of triplets, a result of fertility drugs.

With the advent of fertility medications, more and more multiple births were occurring than normally did in nature—which made Sabrina’s research on the subject that much more vital.

As the woman trailed out, Sabrina moved to gather together her discussion materials and deposit them in her briefcase.

“Interesting theories, Dr. Moore.”

Sabrina nearly dropped her charts and graphs at the low male voice that rumbled so close beside her. She knew without glancing up to whom it belonged. She’d been so busy talking with the last few mothers that she’d forgotten all about the solitary dad occupying a seat in the back row. His deep resonant greeting, however, brought her sense of recall to vivid life.

When she looked up, blue eyes met her gaze. Not just any ordinary shade of blue, but a cool, glittering sapphire. Up close he was even more intriguing, not to mention daunting. For a moment she felt unnerved, but only for a moment.

She lifted her chin. “Thank you. I’m glad you liked them.”

His gaze took her in—a slow, thorough assessment that unnerved her all over again. “Oh, I didn’t say I liked them, I said I found your theories interesting. There’s a world of difference.”

Was there something the man didn’t understand about her discussion? It was all there in her book, which he’d obviously read, given the dog-eared condition of it.

She finished stuffing her charts and graphs inside her briefcase, and gave him a smile. “Did you have a question about some point I made, Mr….?”

He gave her a smile, too. Albeit a small one, it did wonderful things to those blue eyes. She read a wisdom in them, one that comes from living life and not having it turn out exactly to your liking. Sabrina knew all about that—and she didn’t ever want to run the gauntlet again.

“Gabe Lawrence,” he supplied. “And I don’t have a question. I have a comment.”

“And that is…?”

Gabe had found the woman far prettier than her picture. A beauty, in fact, with green almond-shaped eyes that were far too sultry—and a definite counterpoint to that starched, bookish look she seemed to hide behind. He could go easy on her, but that had never been his style.

He dropped the book on the speaker’s table in front of her. “Your theories, Dr. Moore, are a lot of hooey.”

“Hooey?”

She spoke the word like it were not in her vocabulary, her lips cupping it and forming something akin to a pucker as she did so, lips he’d consider kissing if it were the right time or place. Her green eyes sparked with silent fury, a warning he should back off. “Psychobabble, Dr. Moore.”

“I know the meaning of the word, Mr. Lawrence. But perhaps you could be a bit more specific than psychobabble or…hooey.”

There went that pucker again. It heated his insides in a way he wished it didn’t.

“Happily,” he replied. He’d go with a small point first. “You stated that twins should never be dressed alike. ‘It thwarts their individuality,’ I believe were your exact words.”

“I know what I said—and I stick by my theory,” she added emphatically.

Gabe wondered if she knew that twins were sometimes frightened, that sometimes there was comfort in pairs. Hannah and Heather had lost their mother recently—dressing alike gave them a sense of belonging, at least to each other. He wished they felt they belonged to him, as well—but that would come in time.

He hoped.

“It so happens, Doctor, that my twins like to dress alike. If one has a big pink bow in her hair, the other wants one, too. Same holds true for lacy socks or pink sundresses,” he added.

“Just a regular pair of little bookends, aren’t they?”

Gabe hadn’t missed the hint of sarcasm in her low, soft voice or the way her chin had raised when she’d delivered her comeback. She obviously wasn’t a woman who could be backed into a corner easily. “No need to get all prickly, Doctor. It’s just a practical fact—practical being the key word here. Something that was noticeably absent in those theories of yours.”

She gazed up at him, her green eyes soft and silvery in the overhead light. “Do you do this often, Mr. Lawrence?”

“What—point out the error of someone’s ways?”

That, too, Sabrina thought “No—sound so opinionated.”

He struck Sabrina as the kind of man who’d leave the parenting to his wife. In fact, she’d be willing to bet six months of her royalties on it. Still, she had to admit, he had come here to her talk—though he seemed to have missed the whole point of it.

He smiled. “Only when I believe strongly in something.”

“Well, I’d really love to stay and debate the practicality of my theories with you further, but I can’t right now.” She paused. “I’m giving a second talk here next week. Perhaps you and your wife would care to attend. You might even learn something.”

“I don’t have a wife.”

She’d picked up her briefcase and taken a step toward the door. Now she stopped and turned back to him. A single father struggling with twins. That could make an interesting sidebar to her research, but she quickly checked that thought. Not with this man, who made her all too aware of her femininity. And found fault with her carefully researched theories.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Because I hadn’t told you,” he offered.

“Well, then…perhaps you’d like to attend the session,” she added. “It’ll be a more in-depth—”

“I doubt that.”

“Doubt that you’ll attend?”

“Doubt that it’ll be more in-depth. I read your book, Dr. Moore. Cover to cover. You don’t go in depth on any point.”

Sabrina’s spine grew ruler straight. What did this man know about her work, her theories? “For your information, Mr. Lawrence,” she said emphatically, “that book was the culmination of five years of painstaking research, five years of dedicated study of child development. I have not one, but two—count ’em— two doctorates. I’ve taught countless seminars on the subject and have just finished a speaking tour around the country.”

He gave her a slow, thorough smile. “Yeah, well, that may be, Doctor. But have you ever seen a pair of twins up close and personal?”

“What?”

“You heard me. How many twins have you spent time with? Not studying them like a scientist would an interesting bug, but putting a ribbon in their hair, listening to their squabbles, drying their tears when they cry?”

Gabe watched her pretty mouth open, then close around whatever angry rebuttal she’d been about to toss his way. “That’s what I figured,” he answered smugly at her nonanswer.

She ducked her head and, clutching her briefcase, stormed through the doorway and down the hall, the firm click of her sexy high heels tapping a staccato beat against the tile floor.

Maybe he’d come on a little too strong—one of his less flattering habits, Gabe knew. “Hey, wait up,” he said and tailed after her.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he allowed when he’d caught up with her. “I didn’t mean my comment as a total criticism of your book.”

“Of course not.” She kept on walking. Down the hall and out the door into the bright early-afternoon sun. She didn’t even slow, just made for the parking lot and her small, sensible blue-gray car parked there.

Gabe kept pace beside her. “Look, maybe we can discuss this.”

She kept walking. “I’m a busy woman, Mr. Lawrence. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She reached for the door handle of her car.

“Then meet the twins. I promise you, you’ll learn a thing or two.” She’d learn just how silly a few of her well-thought-out theories really were. She’d learn how Gabe dealt with the realities of twins on a daily basis. She’d learn she didn’t have all the answers.

But the woman didn’t jump at his invitation. She only handed him a glower that could have buried a lesser man beneath the parking lot.

Gabe was not a lesser man.

“You surprise me, Dr. Moore. I thought you were woman enough to accept a challenge.”

She paused, tapping her fingers on the door handle of her car. “And just what challenge might that be?”

“Meet one cute little set of twins, head-on. Hannah and Heather,” he said. “I might be partial about the cute part, but then I’m their father.”

Hannah and Heather—at least it wasn’t rhyming names, Sabrina thought. She’d devoted a whole chapter of her book to what that did to siblings. She’d have to give him credit though for his fatherly pride.

“Look, I’m taking them for pizza tonight. Join us. Antonio’s—it’s their favorite place.”

“I—I have plans this evening,” she told him and opened her car door.

“Then how about tomorrow night? It’s the twins’ sixth birthday and I’m throwing a party for them. Cake, birthday punch, dinner.”

“A birthday party…?”

“Yes.”

Why was she hesitating? Why hadn’t she hopped in her car and roared off, leaving Gabe Lawrence standing in the dust, with nothing to do but stare at her retreating back bumper?

Because he’d appealed to her on some level beside just the feminine? Called out to her scholarly side— the side that was curious about two sweet little girls who had a bonehead for a father?

She knew that it was.

And perhaps, just perhaps, she wanted to recover the reputation the man had so effectively taken aim at.

His planned birthday party sounded safe—well, safe enough. And she did want to meet the twins.

“I just may take you up on it, Mr. Lawrence. But— it’s certainly not because of your charm.”

The smile her double-edged acceptance put on his lips had a part of her doubting the wisdom of what she’d just done.

The part that could get hurt….

Sabrina glanced again at the suburban address on the tan-colored business card with crisp black lettering that Gabe Lawrence had given her. According to the card, he ran Lawrence Advertising, and his office address was the same as his home. An arrangement that enabled him to stay close to his twin daughters? she wondered.

A few moms enjoyed the luxury of working at home these days—why not fathers?

She had to admire his effort, and the fact that it couldn’t be an easy proposition for him, raising two little girls alone.

Perhaps it was better not to find anything more to admire about the man, she decided, and spent the next few minutes searching for house numbers on the treelined block of modest brick homes. The neighborhood bespoke easy comfort and a warmth that was nurturing. A neighborhood for raising children.

Then she spotted the house number—a small ranch home with a hopscotch game drawn in white chalk on the long driveway. In the yard was a large red maple that had already begun to drop its leaves, a signal that Denver’s warm summer days were fast drawing to an end.

Sabrina turned into the drive, carefully avoiding the hopscotch markings, and came to a halt in front of the double-car garage. The thought that possibly this wasn’t the best ending for the confrontation she’d had with Gabe Lawrence yesterday afternoon assailed her. But just as she considered backing out of the evening, she thought of the twins and realized she very much wanted to meet them. She just wished they didn’t have a father who rattled her senses.

When she turned off the car’s engine she saw the man in question standing at the front door. She sucked in a breath at the sight of him. Gabe Lawrence was every bit as intriguing as he’d been yesterday. And just as daunting.

Those wide shoulders filled the doorway, doorjamb to doorjamb, and she decided it was better to concentrate on her reason for being here: the twins and the party she’d been invited to.

Scooping up two brightly colored birthday packages from the seat beside her, she made her way toward the front porch—and Gabe.

He greeted her with a dangerous smile, one that made her want to reconsider her evening. “Welcome. I thought you might have decided not to come.”

Perhaps she shouldn’t have.

Sabrina wondered if it was too late to plead a previous appointment. Across town. “Are you sure I’m not intruding?”

“Of course not Come on in. The party’s out back.”

Sabrina expected as much. She could hear the childish exuberance echoing from just that direction.

She only got a brief glimpse of the house as Gabe led her through on their way to the back patio where the party was in full swing. Sabrina dropped her carefully wrapped gifts for the twins onto a table filled with other gifts, just inside the sliding glass door in Gabe’s party-cluttered kitchen.

She hadn’t bought matching gifts, as most people insisted on buying for twins, but individual ones— ones she hoped each girl would enjoy.

When they reached the back, Gabe waved the two birthday girls over to meet her. He hadn’t mentioned whether the twins were identical or not, but she could see now that they were—right down to their pink, little-girl party dresses and shiny new Mary Janes.

Sabrina wondered if he’d consider rereading the chapter she’d written on that topic in her book.

As she usually did with identicals, she tried to find some distinguishing differences so she could tell them apart, but in this case, she was at a loss. However did Gabe accomplish the feat?

She’d have to remember to ask him.

“Hi, I’m Hannah,” announced one of the blond, curly-haired cherubs.

“And I’m Heather,” announced the other, as if determined not to be outdone in the introductions department

Sabrina hid a smile. “I’m pleased to meet you, Hannah and Heather. I’m Dr. Moore—but you can call me Sabrina.”

Hannah gave an anxious glance and clung tightly to her father’s pant leg. “A…doctor? Are you gonna give us a shot?” she voiced.

Sabrina smiled. It was something she sometimes heard from her young subjects. “I’m a different kind of doctor, Hannah,” she reassured the little girl. “I don’t give shots.”

“Ever?” her twin queried.

“Ever.”

“Okay—then you can come to our party,” Hannah allowed, as if it had become a point in question.

Sabrina smiled at them both. “Thank you. I’d like that.”

“Tell our guest you’ll talk to her later,” Gabe interjected. “Right now I need Sabrina’s help with the hot dogs.”

The twins bounded off to rejoin their friends, and Sabrina turned to face Gabe. “I, uh, think you got me here under false pretenses. I wasn’t aware I’d have…food duty.”

He smiled. “If you don’t want to help…”

Sabrina glanced around at the children darting and dashing everywhere, whooping with exuberance, and decided food duty might not be so bad after all. She sighed. “I’ll be happy to lend a hand.”

“Great, grab an apron.”

“Who are all these children anyway?” she asked Gabe as she snatched up the only available apron and followed him toward the grill at one end of the patio.

“Just a few neighborhood kids. Why?”

Sabrina glanced around. “No reason.” She wasn’t about to mention that little children made her nervous, at least outside her carefully controlled Play Lab. He’d enjoy the admission too much.

A warm evening breeze blew around the edge of the house, fragrant with the hint of pine that Sabrina always remembered from this time of year. In lieu of an apron, Gabe tucked a kitchen towel into the waistband of his lean-fitting jeans, then popped the lid on the grill.

“You man the buns and the mustard for me,” he said as he deftly turned the weiners he already had cooking. “Think you can handle that?”

She was sure she could, but that hadn’t been her purpose in coming. “I thought you invited me here to observe, not as slave labor,” she said with just the right degree of haughtiness in her voice.

He laughed then, a deep male sound that rumbled over her senses. “I know, and I’m sorry—but I really do need some help. This is the first kid party I’ve ever attempted. Have a heart.”

Kid parties weren’t something Sabrina was all that familiar with, either, though she didn’t want to relate the fact. She preferred encountering children in the clinical setting. There she was in charge. Here she felt…unsettled.

Or maybe it was being around Gabe Lawrence that had her feeling that way. “I’m surprised you didn’t try something a little less…intimidating the first time. Say, one or two friends, a few paper plates, a cake.”

He grinned over his shoulder at her. “What do you mean? The cake was the hardest part. Wait till you see it. Besides, this is the first real birthday I’ve had with the twins. And I…I wanted it to be special.”

Sabrina had to admire his sentiment, the fact that he was trying so hard to put on a party for his little girls. Balloons were tethered to everything stationary, and brightly colored streamers festooned the backyard trees—all his handiwork, she was certain.

She busied herself with stuffing the hot dogs into buns and then onto plates, with a dash of mustard to round them out.

“You do a pretty fair job as assistant chef,” he admitted after a while.

“Thanks—I think.”

When they had the food ready, Gabe gathered up the kids and seated them at the tables he’d set up. She and Gabe settled at one end of the patio, a little apart from the group so they could at least converse over the party noise. Didn’t children speak in a normal tone of voice? she wondered.

“If it’s not prying too much, might I ask why this is your first birthday with the twins?” she queried. She told herself she only wanted to gain perspective about the little girls—not their all-too-sexy daddy.

Gabe kept one eye on the rowdy group, the other on the pretty woman seated across from him. The evening breeze caught the ends of her burnished brown hair, playing with the strands and setting them dancing about her face. Her eyes held a bright glint of curiosity.

He wasn’t in the habit of explaining his life to people—and certainly not to women, especially ones he’d only just met—but Sabrina’s question wasn’t one he could easily dismiss. Though everything in him told him he should.

He shouldn’t want to get to know her, or her to know him. He had a full-time job just learning to be a father to the twins. This time he intended to keep his priorities in proper perspective—and that meant not involving himself with someone as tempting as Sabrina Moore.

“Their mother and I divorced when the girls were very small,” he said, deciding she could hear the truth. “Meg moved east with them—to Baltimore. I—I didn’t get to see them much after that” He knew that was entirely his fault. He could have seen them, had he not been so tied up with his own busy schedule. “Six months ago Meg was killed—a car accident—and I brought the twins here to Denver to be with me.”

“Gabe, I’m sorry. I—I didn’t know. It must have been terrible for them.”

He wasn’t sure if terrible quite summed it up. The girls had barely known him. And they’d lost their mother, their stability. He hadn’t known how to console them, and his efforts to do so had been clumsy at best.

“They’ve done some adjusting and they’ve made great strides. I’m proud of them,” he said. “I’d be lying if I didn’t admit there are still some rough times though. It’s why I wanted to have this party for them. I wanted them to celebrate with their new friends, and just be six years old, without all the pain they’ve had to get through lately.”

She didn’t say a word, just moved her hand across the table to find his.

Her touch was soft and gentle. And Gabe had the feeling she could see into his soul, knew the fear he had that he might fail his daughters, understood, too, what that would do to him.

If Gabe had any idea what was good for him, he wouldn’t allow Sabrina to come any closer.