Читать книгу The Trouble With Twins - Jo Leigh - Страница 11

SHELBY WHIRLED, sending the water in her glass flying in the semidark kitchen. “Oh, I didn’t hear you.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“I know. You would have said ‘boo’ if you had.”

He grinned that perfect grin of his. God, with that dark stubble of a beard and his tousled hair, Gray looked even sexier. Like that was fair.

“I thought you’d be asleep by now.”

She shrugged, very aware of the shortness of her sleep shirt. If she wasn’t careful to keep it tugged down, he’d see the scars on the backs of her thighs. “I was reading. Then I got thirsty.”

He nodded, shuffled barefoot to the fridge and opened the door. The light from inside illuminated the front of him. Every excellent inch. He wore loose striped pajama bottoms and a white T-shirt. On him, it worked.

“Well, I guess I’ll be heading back.” She was anxious to leave, to be away from his pheromones, or whatever was making her so nuts.

“Don’t. Not yet.”

There wasn’t enough light to see his expression. All he did was confuse her. It was clear he wanted nothing more than to be friends. Temporary friends, at that. Which was fine. Except that she didn’t know if she could be friends with him, even for one night. Every time she saw him her body shifted into sex mode. It was getting rather tiresome.

“Sit with me,” he said, his voice husky, as if he’d been asleep. “Talk to me.”

“About?”

“Anything. Your family. This mother you’re looking for.”

“Ah, a light topic.”

“It brought you a long way. It sounded like it was important to you.”

She had to give him that. It was important. She pulled out a chair and sat while he foraged in the fridge. He ended up with several packages of cold cuts, mustard, cheese, a loaf of bread and a soda.

“So, talk,” he said as he sat across from her and began to prepare his sandwich.

She wasn’t quite sure where to start. “I called my brother Garrett to tell him what I found. He was pretty upset.”

“Aren’t you?”

She nodded. “But not as much as Garrett. He’s determined to get to the bottom of this little mystery. You have to admit, it’s unusual. To leave a child on a doorstep is one thing. To leave four kids is something else entirely.”

“Why? It actually makes more sense to me. Your parents might have been able to handle one. But four? That’s a lot of diapers and bottles.”

“Yes, you’re right. But… You see, two months ago, our mother made contact for the first time. Not directly, though. Through a friend. Megan Maitland. You’ve probably heard of Maitland Maternity in Austin?”

Gray nodded. “The baby on the doorstep thing, right?”

“And not the first baby. That’s where we were left.”

He put a slice of roast beef on his plate and leaned forward. “And your mother got in touch with you now?”

“She sent some items to Megan. Hand-knitted sweaters for me, Michael and Lana, and an old teddy bear for Garrett. She sent a note, too.”

“What did it say?”

Shelby closed her eyes and remembered sitting in Megan’s study, hearing her mother’s words. “‘Dear Mrs. Megan Maitland,’” she began, recalling every word by heart. “‘Thank you for finding my babies a good and loving home all those years ago—I knew you would. The teddy bear was Garrett’s, and these three baby sweaters have the triplets’ names embroidered on them. The only fancywork I ever had time to do. My only wish is for the children to know I loved them. Yours in gratitude.’”

She opened her eyes and gave Gray a small smile. “You can see where it would pique one’s curiosity.”

“No kidding. So tell me again, how did you end up here?”

“My brother Garrett did some research on triplets born in Texas the same year we were abandoned. They weren’t so common then. Not like today with all the fertility drugs. He found five sets of fraternal triplets that could have been us. We decided to look them up, so Garrett and I split up the list.”

“What about Michael and, who is it, Lana?”

She nodded. “Lana just got married, and she has a little one to look after. Michael wasn’t very interested at first, not until he got married last month—”

“Boy, this has been some year for you guys.”

“You have no idea.”

“So who’s left? On the list, I mean.”

“One couple, by the name of Larrimore. We know the husband’s dead, but we have no idea how to contact his wife.”

“So you think she’s the one?”

“I don’t know anymore. Someone sent the sweaters and the bear to Megan. If it was her, she’s certainly managed to keep her identity a secret.”

“And if it’s not her?”

“There’s really nowhere else to look. We could have been born out of state, but where on earth would we begin to search?”

“Are you okay with that?”

“I’ll have to be, won’t I?”

He frowned. “I guess that answers my question.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just a lot to get used to, that’s all. I loved my parents very much. They took us in heart and soul, and we never felt ‘less than,’ ever. But there is still a part of me that wonders. I’d like to know the answers, but it won’t kill me not to know. I’ve been very lucky all my life.”

His gaze darted to her waist, then quickly to his sandwich.

“I know. It doesn’t seem very lucky when you look on the outside. But I was. I’ve had so much joy and so much satisfaction in my life. Only—”

“Only?”

“Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

“Sure it does. Come on. Spill.”

“Nothing every other single woman my age hasn’t felt,” she said, trying to make things light. “I’d like to find someone. Get married. Have children.”

“Ah, that.”

“Yes. That.”

“It’ll happen for you, Shelby. I know it will.”

She felt her face flush, knowing he was just saying the words, not meaning them. “It’s time for me to hit the sack.” She stood up and got her water glass. “Enjoy your sandwich.”

“Shelby?”

“Hmm?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. Sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She left him in the kitchen and went to the guest room at the back of the house. It was cozy and nice, with a little TV set and a great selection of books and magazines, as well as a very comfortable bed and an attached bath.

She wasn’t sorry she’d come back. Not really. But she did wonder if she’d come for the right reasons. Was it really to help with the children? Or did some part of her think there might be the possibility of a tango or two with Gray?

If she harbored even the slightest hope, she’d better get the heck out of here as soon as possible. No way anything was going to happen. No possible way.

Daydreaming was one thing. False hope was something else. Something dangerous. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to get burned again. And she already had too many scars.

THE NEXT MORNING, she found Gray in the living room, on the floor with Scout and Jem. The three of them were digging through a huge box of Lincoln Logs as if searching for buried treasure.

“Having fun?”

Gray raised his gaze, though not his head. “My car keys.”

“Ah. Well, they’ll turn up.”

“Right.”

She grinned and left them to it. She’d decided to make French toast for breakfast. If they had syrup, that is. If not, she’d wing it. Surprisingly, she’d slept well, and woken happy despite yesterday. Or maybe because of it.

The syrup was in the cupboard, and she went about preparing the meal. As she put the first slices of bread in the frying pan, she realized she was humming. It was as if she was playing house, just like when she was a kid. Only this time, the playhouse was a ranch, the kids were real, and the daddy made her break out in a cold sweat.

Just so long as she remembered it was make-believe, everything would be fine. Besides, she wouldn’t be here long enough to get into serious trouble.

She considered heading to Dallas. It had been on her mind on the drive here, and the thought of a nice little vacation certainly had appeal. It had been too long since she’d taken off. Forgotten about the diner, about her busy life in Austin. So much had happened recently it had made everything intense.

She thought about the drama of the last year. Sara—no, her name wasn’t Sara. It was Lacy Clark. Wrong again—Lacy O’Hara now. How strange that had all been. Amnesia, missing babies, kidnapping plots…it was still hard to believe. But it had all turned out for the best. Except Lacy wasn’t the chef anymore, and Mary Jane had left to raise her baby. Truth be told, it was a little lonely at the diner. Even though she liked the new staff very much, it just wasn’t the same.

She sighed as she turned the French toast. Something was going on with her. She’d known it now for over a month. She’d been waking up in the middle of the night. Forgetting things. Daydreaming far more than usual, which was really saying something. Maybe it was just that everyone else was getting married and having babies.

Why it should bother her, she had no idea. She’d reached one of her goals, hadn’t she? At twenty-four she’d bought the diner. It was a smashing success, and she had every reason to be proud. Garrett, Michael and Lana had all helped, of course, but for the most part, she’d done it on her own. A dream fulfilled.

But she’d also dreamed that she’d be married by now. In the perfect version of her life, she’d have married at twenty-five, become pregnant at twenty-six and then again at twenty-eight. She’d have a boy and a girl. Maybe even twins. She’d have a house with a big backyard, with swings and a pool. Her husband would help her with the children, not because he had to but because he wanted to.

Her husband would love her, and in his eyes, she’d be beautiful. He wouldn’t mind about the scars. He would hardly see them.

It was all so clear to her, and had been for as long as she could remember. The thing was, she hadn’t made one move to make the dream come true. When was the last time she’d been on a date? Years ago. That made it very difficult to fall in love, let alone the rest.

If she didn’t do something soon, she was going to have to settle for phase one and only phase one. Heck, maybe that’s all she was ever supposed to have. But could it make her happy for the rest of her life?

GRAY FOUND HIS KEYS. Of course they weren’t in among the Lincoln Logs. They were under the couch. Right next to the telephone. Or, he should say, the pieces of what used to be a telephone. Little monsters.

He frowned at Scout. It turned out to be a big mistake. Her bottom lip quivered, her eyes filled with tears, and then she started bawling as if he’d busted her balloon.

He scooped her up in his arms and took her to the couch, keeping her in his lap as he sat down. “Hey, Scout.”

She cried some more, although he thought he detected a pause.

“Scout, honey, please don’t cry. I didn’t mean it.”

She sniffled. He realized she needed a tissue. He shuddered but kept on smiling. He loved Scout. Really. But jeez, she was so…untidy. And Jem was twice as bad.

He hadn’t thought this through. Not all the ramifications. When Ben had asked him to watch the twins, he’d figured it would be tough but nothing he couldn’t handle. How wrong he’d been. But that wasn’t the big issue now. He carried Scout into the kitchen and pulled a tissue from the box on the counter. Holding it to her little nose, he said, “Blow.”

She did. Fiercely. She screwed up her face and blew through her nose and through her mouth. It was actually kind of cute—in a semidisgusting sort of way. Unfortunately, Scout continued to pout.

“What’s wrong?”

He looked over his shoulder to see Shelby’s concerned gaze on Scout. “She thinks I’m mad at her.”

“Why would she think that?”

“I frowned at her.”

Scout nodded, sniffing harder.

“Hmm.” Shelby came close and stood right beside him. “Honey, Uncle Gray was just teasing.”

“He’s mad at me.”

“No, he’s not.”

“No, I’m not.”

“He is so. He said a bad word.”

Shelby folded her arms across her chest. “A bad word, eh?”

“He said shit.”

Shelby pressed her lips together so she wouldn’t laugh. He wasn’t so successful. But he quickly turned his laughter into a cough.

“It’s not funny,” Shelby said. “Scout, sweetie, I know Uncle Gray didn’t mean to scare you. He’s sorry he said that word, and he won’t do it again.”

Scout wiped her nose on her arm, and despite the recent use of a tissue, it wasn’t pretty. “Can I have juice?”

“Of course.” Shelby held out her hand, and he set Scout on the floor. The girls went to the fridge while he headed to the living room.

He settled on the couch, and as he put the phone back together, he wondered what it was about Shelby that made her so comfortable. He’d never felt such immediate trust for another person. She had the kids eating out of her hand. He’d lucked out incredibly. Perhaps he could convince her to stay until Ellen and Ben came back.

Just as he screwed on the last piece of the phone, the doorbell rang. He got up, but Jem was running full speed ahead. The doorbell was big around here, right up there with dogs barking and phones ringing. By the time Gray got to the door, it was already open. A man, a big man, stood on the porch smiling at the boy. Gray knew him. He just couldn’t remember in what context. A friend of Ben’s, maybe? A neighbor he’d seen on a previous visit?

“Gray Jackson?”

“That’s right.”

The man thrust out a beefy hand. “Jim Lattimer here.”

“Jim…” Gray snapped his hand out for a firm shake. “How do you do, Mr. Lattimer. I didn’t expect—”

“I know that. And I don’t make it a habit of dropping in on prospective employees like this. But I couldn’t reach you on the phone.”

“Right. The twins.”

“There’s another one like this?”

Gray nodded. He felt completely off guard, unprepared and vulnerable. What he had to do was calm down. Breathe. Get himself together. “He’s got a sister.”

“I’ll bet she’s just as cute as can be.”

Gray smiled, then jerked back a step. “Come in.”

“Thank you.”

Jem stared at the big man. Lattimer was at least six five and maybe three hundred pounds. He was solid as a rock, like a football player or a refrigerator.

“As I said, I couldn’t reach you on the phone, and I was in the neighborhood, so I took a chance on finding you home. If it’s not a good time, I can turn right around again.”

“No,” Gray said, leading him into the living room. “It’s fine. Fine. Come on in. Have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?”

Lattimer swallowed. “I’d be grateful. I’ve been on the road since six this morning without a break. Had one of those gas station cups of coffee. It was hot, which is about all the good I can say about it.”

“Water or—”

“Water will do nicely,” Lattimer said. “For a start.”

“Great.” He headed for the kitchen. Lattimer started talking to Jem, and Gray moved faster.

Shelby was at the sink. Scout stood next to her, a square box of juice in her hand.

“What do we have to drink?”

Shelby turned at the sharpness of his voice. “Not much. Water. Coffee. Juice.”

“No beer?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“Lattimer. He’s here.”

“Pardon?”

“Jim Lattimer. The man I’m supposed to be interviewed by next Monday. He dropped by.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Yeah. And from the looks of him, he’s hungry. I know he’s thirsty.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Yeah.”

She turned and poured a glass of filtered water, then handed it to him. “Stall him.”

“Stall him?”

“Go!”

Gray nodded, then headed toward the CEO of Lattimer Spices, Inc. Damn it, Gray’s clothes were a mess. His hair—oh man, who knew what that looked like. Of all the damn times to—

“There you are,” Lattimer said, his voice deep and booming. He grinned as he took the glass, then downed the liquid in several large gulps.

Jem’s mouth hung open at the sight.

“What’s wrong, young man? Haven’t you ever seen a thirsty fella before?”

Jem shook his head, his gaze not leaving the big man’s face. Lattimer laughed. “You should see me eat!”

“Jem, why don’t you go find Scout? I think she’s in the kitchen.”

It was clear Jem was far more interested in the strange man. But when Gray gave him a private glare, Jem got moving.

“Great kid,” Lattimer said. “Great. But I know you don’t want to talk children. You want to know what the high heaven I’m doing here on this fine Tuesday.”

“Yes, I was curious about that.”

“Sit down, son.”

Gray obeyed, sitting across from the couch.

“I’m here because I like to meet the people who want to work for me. Meet ’em away from the office. See what they’re like in the real world.”

“That makes sense.”

“It does. Especially in view of the considerable financial risks I’m about to take.”

“I don’t think the risks are that big,” Gray said. “From what I can see, Lattimer Spices is ready for the expansion. You’re well capitalized. You’ve already got exposure via your catalogues.”

“That’s right. But we’re not on every shelf in America, and that’s where we want to be.”

Gray leaned forward as he jumped in with both feet and gave his spiel. No time like the present to wow the boss with his ideas. Lattimer kept nodding, which Gray took as a good sign. He interrupted a few times, but only for questions or clarification.

“Excuse me, gentlemen.”

Gray looked up at Shelby’s voice, then he checked his watch. He’d been talking for almost thirty minutes.

“I thought you might want something to eat while you talk. And perhaps some nice cold tea.”

Lattimer stood, and Gray followed suit. Shelby came around the couch carrying a large tray of food, which surprised him. The fridge had been less than bountiful, so where had this all come from?

She set the tray down, then handed each of them a napkin. “Please, help yourself. Mr. Lattimer, how do you like your tea?”

“It’s Jim, ma’am.”

She smiled that kind smile. “Shelby.”

He took a cracker from the tray. It had something on top, but Gray couldn’t tell what. “I like my tea sweet, just like my women.”

Shelby laughed and handed him a glass. “Now, how come I already guessed that?”

He sipped the tea. “It’s perfect.”

“Ah, you’re just trying to flatter me.”

“Flattering you is easy.” He drank again, nearly finishing the tall glass, but Shelby was ready with a pitcher. Lattimer popped the cracker in his mouth. As he chewed, his eyes widened, and Gray’s heart stopped beating.

The big man swallowed. “What was that?”

“Did you like it?” Shelby asked.

“Heck, yes, I liked it.”

“Good, because I made it with your mesquite rub.”

“No.”

She nodded. “Everything on the tray has been made with Lattimer spices.”

He smiled, took a few more items from the tray, then sat on the couch. He ate a little sandwich, then slapped his knee. “Peanut butter, jelly and jalapeño?”

“Right.”

“Delicious.” He turned to Gray. “Go on. Try some.”

Gray tried one of the crackers. It was good. Really good. Different. He looked at Shelby. She was smiling contentedly, and he wondered if she realized what she’d done. He’d never have thought of this. Even if he’d known Lattimer planned to stop by.

“It’s too quiet,” she said. “I think I’d better go check on the twins.”

“Thanks,” he whispered as she walked by. The next second, her cheeks were bright pink. He liked that. He liked that a lot.

“Hell of a nice surprise,” Lattimer said as he folded his napkin and put it on the tray. “Now I’m not at all sorry your phone wasn’t working.”

“About that,” Gray said. “The kids. They were playing hide and seek with all the telephones.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got kids of my own. They’re grown now, but my oldest, Darlene, she’s expecting.”

“Congratulations.”

He smiled as he leaned back. “My first grandchild. Of course Betty, she’s my wife, is jumping out of her boots. She’s buying every baby doodad from here to New York. She’s going to spoil the child something awful.”

“I have the feeling she won’t be the only one.”

He laughed. “You got it. I tell you, Gray, kids are everything. My family means more to me than all the money in the world.”

Gray nodded as if he felt the same way.

“There’s nothing that makes more of a difference in a man’s life.” He stared at the box of Lincoln Logs on the floor, his gaze fixed. Then he shook himself out of his reverie, slapped his knee and stood up. “I’d better let you get back to your day.”

Gray stood, too. “It’s been a real pleasure meeting you, sir.”

“The pleasure was mine.”

They walked to the front door, and Lattimer stepped outside. “You thank that pretty lady for the wonderful food.”

“I will.”

Lattimer extended his hand. “Tell you what. Why don’t you and the missus come on over to my place on Saturday night? My secretary will call you with the details. If you find your phones, that is.”

Gray shook his head. “Shelby—”

The big man’s cell phone rang, and Lattimer whipped it off his belt like a six-shooter. “Lattimer.”

Gray waited for him to get off the phone. But from the look on Lattimer’s face, he got the feeling it would be a while. Then Jim waved and pointed to his phone. He was leaving—before Gray had a chance to tell him that Shelby wasn’t the missus.