From Megan Maitland’s Diary

Dear Diary,

Shelby Lord is one of the special people in my life. Not just my goddaughter, but a caring, loving soul who deserves all the love a man can offer. My heart is glad that she’s found Gray Jackson, even though it meant she hit another dead end on the search for her birth mother.

It says everything about Shelby that this all came about out of a simple act of kindness. While Gray might be devilishly handsome and terribly bright, he really did have his hands full taking care of those rambunctious twins! Heaven knows what mischief would have occurred if Shelby hadn’t stepped in. And what a reward—it’s impossible not to see how much he loves her. Now, if Garrett can find the peace and love he deserves…Have faith. I think it’s all going to turn out better than I could even imagine.

There’s never a dull moment around

MAITLAND MATERNITY

Shelby Lord: Is Shelby really staying to help with the children—or does some part of her think there might be some hope with Gray? After all, he’d kissed her…even after he knew her painful secret.

Gray Jackson: Watching Shelby with the twins, Gray feels a longing for a child of his own. Family. The ache is real…and it scares him half to death.

Jem and Scout Jackson: The four-year-old twins delight in rattling their uncle Gray at every turn—yet they’re as eager as Gray for Shelby to stay. Can they sense how much Gray needs her?

Jim Lattimer: To Gray’s potential employer, family is everything. He assumes Shelby is Gray’s wife—and the twins are theirs. Will finding out that Gray isn’t even married end Gray’s career plans?

The Trouble with Twins
Jo Leigh

www.millsandboon.co.uk

A writer of modern fairy tales with sensuality and humor, Jo Leigh grew up in Southern California dreaming of making movies. She worked in the film industry for fifteen years and during that time she fell in love with writing. Jo hadn’t really thought about writing romance novels, even though her father had been a voracious romance reader for many years. She’s written over twenty-five books and writes regularly for the Temptation, American Romance and Intrigue lines. A launch author for the Blaze line, she also contributed to Trueblood, Texas and Heart of the West. You can imagine how proud Jo’s father is of her career at Harlequin! Jo has also taught writing for many years. She lives in Nevada and loves to hear from readers at www.joleigh.com.

To my niece Trysa Shy, who is as loving and

kind as she is beautiful. I love you, sweetheart.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

SHELBY PAUSED just before her hand touched the doorbell. What if this was another dead end? What then?

The information Michael and Garrett had given her was sketchy at best. A couple by the name of Jackson had given birth to triplets almost twenty-six years ago. Her brothers hadn’t been able to find out the exact date yet. The hospital where Mrs. Jackson had given birth had lost its records in a fire, but one doctor had remembered Mrs. Jackson and the triplets. He’d suggested they come here and try to find out if the Jacksons who lived on this ranch were any relation to the Jackson family with the triplets. It was a long shot. But it was a shot.

The quest to find out what had happened to her birth mother had taken on a new urgency in the past few months. Shelby didn’t need a psychiatrist to tell her why. Almost everyone she knew had found someone to love, all in a matter of months. And most of them were already parents or expecting to be parents. Shelby couldn’t stop thinking about her own family.

She loved her brothers and sister with all her heart. She harbored nothing but love and respect for her adoptive parents, and she missed them something awful. She loved her diner in Austin, her friends, her apartment. It was all perfect, except for two little details. Thoughts of her birth parents had kept her up night after night. Why had they abandoned four babies? What kind of woman could walk away and never look back? Maybe she couldn’t look back. Maybe her note of a few months ago had been sent posthumously. Or as a dying goodbye.

And that other thing? Shelby straightened her shirt and smoothed her hair, then her hand went to her stomach, just beneath her breasts. To the scars…

While there was nothing she could do about that, she could do her utmost to get to the bottom of the mystery of her parents. So here she was. A hundred miles from home, in Blue Point, Texas. Standing on a stranger’s doorstep about to ask some very personal questions.

She cleared her throat, prepared to accept whatever was about to happen. But hoping like mad it was going to turn out wonderful.

The doorbell rang loudly enough for her to hear it from the front porch. She expected the door to open immediately, but it didn’t. Not even when she rang a second time.

The ranch house was big, though, so it might take someone a while to get to her. Two stories, white colonial, beautiful porch with a double rocker for warm spring nights. The grounds looked well cared for with particular attention paid to flower beds and a small herb garden.

A noise startled her. A bang like a backfire or a gun. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to show up unannounced like this. She took a step back, prepared to bolt if she had to. The door swung open, and she cringed, waiting for the worst, only mid-wince she realized there was no one at the door. She dropped her gaze and her frightened stance. There was someone at the door. She just hadn’t expected a pre-schooler, that’s all.

“I hate you!”

Shelby wasn’t quite sure how to respond. The little blond boy looked to be about three or four, although the chocolate all over his face made it difficult to be certain. His attire, a rather droopy pair of Toy Story underpants and a T-shirt desperately in need of washing, lent a certain air of nonchalance to the proceedings. She wondered briefly if he was alone in the house. A masculine shout eased her mind. The child hadn’t been abandoned. He just wasn’t taken care of very well.

“Jem, where are you? Jem!”

Shelby opened her mouth to call to the father, but a howl stunned her into silence. Another child. This one seriously unhappy about something.

The crying got louder as a man holding a second child came around the steps to the foyer. As soon as the little one saw Shelby, she stopped crying. The man, Mr. Jackson presumably, appeared to be in over his head, He also looked to be in his early thirties, which didn’t bode well for her purposes.

Shelby had the feeling she’d just discovered the answer to her quest, but she didn’t want to jump to conclusions. Maybe he wasn’t Mr. Jackson at all. Maybe he wasn’t one of the triplets.

He put the child down—a girl, Shelby saw, dressed almost identically to her brother—but before he could say a word, the towheaded child raced toward the stairs, her little legs pumping like pistons. The boy shouted in delight, his dislike for Shelby forgotten, and took off after the girl. The man threw his hands in the air and headed after them. “It’s about time you got here,” he said over his shoulder. Then he was gone.

Maybe she should come back another time. Say when his kids were in college. But then again, he looked about at the end of his rope. He obviously thought she was someone else. Someone, she assumed, who could handle children. If she lent a hand, he might be more inclined to talk about his family. Even though her hope had dimmed, she had come all this way. It seemed prudent to find out what she could. That decided it for her. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

As soon as she walked around the base of the stairs she was assailed by chaos. Toys were strewn everywhere, with a preponderance of stuffed dinosaurs and broken crayons. Clothes from long pants to pjs were on the floor, on the tables, and one sneaker perched precariously on top of the wide-screen television blaring Disney’s Pinocchio. It was a disaster, and from the crying in the other room, she doubted things were going to settle down anytime soon.

“Excuse me?” She walked toward the sound of wailing. “Mr. Jackson?”

He was in the dining room struggling with the little boy. Mr. Jackson, if he was indeed Mr. Jackson, wanted the child to sit down. The child had other plans.

“Mr. Jackson?”

He spun toward her. The little one picked up a spoonful of something white and yucky and threw it on Mr. Jackson’s head. “You were supposed to be here two hours ago,” the man said, his voice determinedly calm.

“I don’t believe I’m the person you think I am.”

“You’re not from Child Minders?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m sorry to barge in on such a busy day. But I’m here on something of a genealogical quest. Would you—” The screaming went up two decibels. “Would you have a few moments to spare?”

He opened his mouth. Blinked. Closed his mouth. Then burst out laughing. Hard. The little boy stopped crying. The little girl’s eyes widened with surprise. Mr. Jackson continued to laugh as he sank down on the seat, unmindful that there was no telling what he was going to sit on.

“Yeah, well, I can see that you don’t.” She took a step back. “I’m sorry.”

He took a deep breath and wiped his eye with his knuckles. “No, hey. My fault. My fault. No problem…”

“Your wife isn’t here?”

“I don’t have a wife.”

“Oh.”

He pointed to the boy. “Jem Jackson.” Then to the girl. “Scout Jackson.”

“As in…?”

He nodded.

“And you are?”

“Their uncle Gray.”

“Ah, I see.” Being boy and girl, the children were fraternal twins, but their hair was identical in color and texture. Scout’s was shaped in what used to be called a Buster Brown, capitalizing on the straight locks. Jem’s hair was much shorter, fashionably buzz cut on the sides. Their little faces, dirty and unhappy, were strikingly similar, too. Big blue eyes, pink-tinged cheeks and upturned noses. She’d bet a bundle that when they weren’t throwing tantrums, they were downright adorable.

“I know you probably won’t believe this,” Uncle Gray said, “but I don’t have a great deal of experience with children.”

“No,” she said, feigning disbelief, liking him for his ability to laugh at himself.

“Yes. It’s true. I can speak three languages. I won the Long Beach Five Hundred. I’ve danced a tango with Hillary Clinton. But this—” His hands went up in a gesture of helpless despair. “They’ve won. I accept my defeat.”

“How noble.” She stepped over a rocking horse. “But have they eaten lunch yet?”

He shook his head.

She peered at the goop inside the little blue bowl on the Winnie-the-Pooh place mat. “No wonder. That looks awful.”

“I know. It tastes worse.”

“That’s it, then. You need to give them something tasty. Of course, you can’t forgo nutrition. But there are lots of things that taste good and are good for them.”

His gaze landed on hers, and he studied her for several seconds, reminding her that she was in a strange home, with a man she didn’t know. A devastatingly gorgeous man, now that she looked at him, but potentially dangerous nonetheless.

His right brow rose. “I’ll pay you a thousand dollars to make them lunch.”

It was her turn to laugh. “That’s a hefty fee.”

“You do know how to cook, don’t you?”

“It so happens that cooking is my business. I own a diner in Austin.”

His eyes rolled back in sheer gratitude. “Oh, thank God.”

“But,” she said, picking up the blue bowl, “it’s not a thousand dollars that I want in return for my services.”

“What? Anything. My car? This house?”

“Nothing quite that expensive. I need time with you. To ask about your family.”

“My family?”

She nodded. “I—”

Scout wasn’t interested. She was hungry. And her piercing cry brooked no quarter. “I want pizza!”

“I’ll make food now and talk later.”

He nodded before he leaned forward and buried his face in his hands.

She felt sorry for him. Tackling one child this age was an exercise in stamina, but two? She gathered a few other plastic dishes then went through the swinging doors into the kitchen. It was neater in here. The oatmeal box was out, the milk carton, too, and the can of coffee was open next to the pot. Nothing a little spit and polish wouldn’t take care of. But first, lunch.

In the refrigerator, she found eggs, milk and butter. Along with the bread on the counter, it was all she needed. Oddly, there was a large assortment of sauces and condiments on two racks, but then, this was Texas. She didn’t see many fresh fruits or vegetables, though. With two youngsters, that wasn’t good. She took out the ingredients she required.

The battle continued outside. She heard Gray Jackson’s calm, reasoned voice as he tried to inform the children that lunch was coming soon. Shelby was no expert on child care, but she did know that when hunger struck, reason had no foothold.

She got to work. Instead of scrambled eggs or French toast, she decided to be a tad more creative and make them something she’d liked as a child.

As she cooked, her thoughts shifted from the children to Uncle Gray. Interesting eyes. They were like his name. More gray than green or blue. But they weren’t dull. On the contrary, she saw intelligence there. And humor. Which was right up there on top of her hit parade.

Shelby had always been wildly attracted to men with dark, thick hair. Add his angular nose and chin, pecs to swoon over and a butt made for jeans, and she was practically a goner. Not that she could ever get a man like him. But it didn’t hurt to dream, right?

What was this man Gray doing alone with his niece and nephew? Where were their parents? Whatever the situation, it really was none of her business. Except that Gray Jackson was more than likely one of the triplets Mrs. Jackson had delivered, which meant this was, after all, another dead end. She wasn’t going to find any answers here. Still, it wouldn’t do any harm to ask.

She turned down the flame under the eggs. He certainly was tall. Over six feet. And in wonderful shape. She’d checked out his shoulders as he’d sunk in his chair. And checked out other things as he’d walked toward the living room. Very, very delicious. And, undoubtedly very, very taken. A man like that wouldn’t be alone. And even if he was…

“You almost done in there?” Gray called from the living room. “The natives are about to revolt.”

“One second. Tell them to sit at the table.”

“Right.”

She heard an impressive whine, something along the lines of, “I don’t wanna.” The crash of a chair tipped over, which explained the sound she’d heard at the front door, followed by childish laughter. These kids needed lunch, a bath and a nap.

She put the fried eggs on one big plate, then used Cheerios and shredded wheat to make faces with the eggs as eyes. She picked up two small plates as she headed toward the danger zone.

The children were sitting. And so was Gray. Only they were all on the floor. “Is that where you want to eat?” she asked.

The kids screamed, “Yes!”

“Then that’s where you shall eat.” She put the big plate between them and gave them a second to look at it.

Scout pointed. “It’s a clown.”

“It’s a big poop,” Jem countered.

“It’s lunch,” Gray said, his voice as weary as the sigh that followed. He looked at Shelby and tried to smile. “Jem is big on poop these days.”

“So I gathered.”

“His mother says it will pass.”

“Everything does.” She crouched beside them, grateful she’d worn jeans instead of a skirt, and served each of the kids one egg and split the cereal between them. They tackled the food as if they hadn’t eaten in a week.

Gray stood up, watched the children for a moment, then turned to her. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You want some coffee?”

“I’ll get it. You sit down. How do you like it?”

“Hot,” he said. “And black.”

She nodded, then went to the kitchen.

GRAY STARED at the swinging doors as they swayed on the hinges. He always felt like a cowpoke at his brother’s. At least the urge to bolt had left with the propitious arrival of the redhead from Austin. Her hair was an interesting color, a mixture of copper and rust and gold. He liked that she wore it down past her shoulders so it swayed, too.

She had nice eyes. Wide. Green. Filled with amusement. It didn’t even bother him that her amusement was at his ineptitude. What in hell had he been thinking? No way he should be taking care of these kids. Someone would end up in the emergency room before he was through, and that was the last thing Ben and Ellen needed.

The woman came back carrying two cups of coffee. He took a moment to check her out. A little rounder than he was used to, but nice. An hourglass shape that would have knocked them dead in Marilyn Monroe’s day. She put her coffee down first, then turned the other cup around so he could take it by the handle. Her nails were painted the same color as her hair. “Did you tell me your name?”

“I don’t think so.” She sat across from him. “It’s Shelby. Shelby Lord.”

“It’s a real pleasure, Shelby. You couldn’t have come at a better time. Another few minutes and I would have raised the white flag.”

She smiled, her lush lips curving easily over straight, white teeth. “So how did you end up in this mess?”

He shook his head. “I was a fool. An arrogant idiot. I didn’t know, honest. I haven’t been around kids much. Especially not twins. And certainly not on my own.”

“Their parents?”

“My sister-in-law, Ellen, had to go see a specialist in Dallas.”

“She’s ill?”

“Yeah. But it’s not dire. Not yet. And now it looks like things are going to be fine.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“I thought so. Which is why I said I’d watch the kids.” He sighed again. Sipped some coffee. “I’ve been staying here for the last couple of months, although this is my first time watching the kids by myself. Ellen and Ben made everything look so easy. Ha.”

“So you’re not from here?”

“Originally, yes. But I’ve been away for years. Los Angeles, mostly.”

“Ah, but you’ve come back to your roots, eh? Home to stay?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. If I get the job I’m hoping for.”

“What’s that?”

“Marketing. There’s a company out here, Lattimer Spices. They make barbecue rubs and specialty sauces. They’re going national and they need someone to head the operation.”

“That explains the racks of jars in the fridge.”

He winced. “I’m supposed to go to the grocery store.”

“It might be a good idea.”

He shook his head. “I called a service and hired a baby-sitter. She was due here at eight this morning.”

“She didn’t call you?”

“Not a word.”

“Maybe something happened. You might call them and see.”

“I would. Except I can’t find the phone.”

“Oh.”

“Let me rephrase that. I can’t find any of the phones.”

She nodded. “I see.”

“I imagine you can. It’s been…” He didn’t finish. It was obvious what his day had been like. The house had been immaculate before Ben and Ellen had taken off. Everything in its place. They’d made it sound like a piece of cake. Feed the kids, play games, maybe a nap. They should have warned him. But then Ben probably thought it was a big joke. “My apologies. You haven’t caught me on my best day.”

Her smile stayed generous. “No problem. But now that we have a moment, I’d like to ask—”

“The genealogy question.”

She nodded. “You’re one of triplets, aren’t you?”

He nodded, wondering where she’d gotten her information. And why. “I have a brother, Ben, and a sister, Kate. Ben’s the oldest, but— Never mind. It’s triplet stuff. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Want to bet?”

“Are you kidding?”

She shook her head, making her hair shimmer.

“Is that what your study is about? Triplets?”

“In an indirect way. I am a triplet. I have a brother, Michael, and a sister, Lana.”

“I haven’t met many.”

“Me, neither. Lots of twins, though.”

He shook his head. “Twins. They think they’ve got problems. They don’t know the half of it.”

“Well, perhaps they don’t know one third of it.”

He grinned. “Right. So, what is it about my being a triplet that brought you here?”

Her smile faded, and her gaze went past his shoulder to the far wall. “We were abandoned as infants, along with my older brother, who was two. My brothers are trying to find out who our birth parents are. We’ve got records of about five triplet births around that time that match our configuration—two girls, one boy. The only couples left to check were your parents and one other. Your hospital records were lost, so we didn’t know for sure what the sexes of the triplets were—or even the exact date of birth. Obviously we’re down to our last possibility.”

“I’m sorry I can’t help you. My mother died a year ago. My father still lives here in Blue Point. This was their house. We go back three generations.” He looked at Jem, who was picking up Cheerios from the floor and shoving them into his mouth. “Four generations now.”

“I figured as much. Not the generation part, but the parents part. It was a long shot, believe me.”

“I wish I could give you something. You really saved my life.”

She put her cup on the table and gave him a troubled stare. “What about my thousand dollars?”

“Your thou—”

She laughed. A terrific sound. Not a trace of self-consciousness, not at all girly. She laughed like a woman ought to.

“Very amusing.”

“Couldn’t resist.” Her gaze went to the twins. Scout had abandoned her meal and was trailing egg yolk across the wooden floor.

Gray watched as the little girl picked up a broken crayon and stuck it in her mouth. “I’d better get going. I have to give them a bath, go to the market, clean up in here…. Oh, hell.” He turned to her, making himself look as pathetic as possible.

She stood up. “Stay right there.” Then she walked out of the room.

Jem had grown bored with the cereal and had moved over to the box of Lego by the staircase. Scout was still sucking on her crayon. Gray didn’t understand how parents did it. How they got anything done.

He heard the front door shut. Damn. She’d probably taken off for the hills. He didn’t blame her. What a mess. What a joke.

But then he heard the door again. Her footsteps. She rounded the bend and smiled as she neared him. “Here.”

In her hand was a cell phone.

“Pardon?”

“To call the baby-sitter.”

“Oh, right.” He closed his eyes for a moment as he cursed his own stupidity. “Thanks.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Except I have my own cell phone in my room.”

“Does it work?”

“It works.”

“Oh.” She sat again.

He went into the kitchen and grabbed the notepaper from behind the hamburger magnet on the fridge. As he dialed the agency, he walked to the dining room. A woman answered on the third ring.

“This is Gray Jackson. You were supposed to send a baby-sitter here this morning.”

“Oh, Mr. Jackson. Thank heavens. We were about to call the police.”

“Why?”

“We’ve been trying to reach you all morning, but your phone isn’t working.”

“Right. We’re on it. Now, about the baby-sitter?”

“I’m sorry, we’ve had a little emergency here. Beth Ann has gone into labor.”

“Beth Ann?”

“The woman who was going to help you today.”

He thought about that for a moment. “Can she come tomorrow?”

The woman paused for a really long time. “She went into labor to have a baby, Mr. Jackson.”

“Oh. Right. And I suppose there’s no one else who could—”

“I’m terribly sorry.”

“Sure. Thanks anyway.” He pushed the off button and handed the phone to Shelby. She seemed very sympathetic. “Please stay. Not forever, but at least for today. I’m desperate.”

“Stay? Me?”

He could see the idea hadn’t occurred to her. But it was the only solution. “I’ll really give you that grand if you agree. I’m drowning here. Going down for the third time.”

She eyed him carefully, then slowly looked around the room.

He stayed busy making a bargain with the big man upstairs.

“I can’t stand it,” Shelby said as she took off after Scout. “Let’s get them bathed and down for a nap. We’ll negotiate the rest later.”

He held back his whoop of joy, said a silent thanks and concentrated on getting Jem away from the mess on the floor and into the downstairs bathroom. What got him was that Shelby had no trouble. Scout went quietly, like a civilized four-year-old. Jem, on the other hand, squirmed like a trout and yelled as if he was being drawn and quartered.

The plain truth was, he had no aptitude for children. They scared him spitless.

He followed Shelby through the living room, rather enjoying the rear view. Not enough women these days had those kind of curves. But, and this surprised him more than anything, it was her kind eyes and gentle smile that made him damn glad she’d decided to stick around.

Aside from the fact that she knew what the hell she was doing.

CHAPTER TWO

SHELBY PUT IT in gear. First, she assessed the situation. Gray was pretty hopeless. Not that he wasn’t trying, but he was as comfortable with the children as she’d be with wild badgers. And of course, the children sensed it and acted out. Jem in particular seemed determined to rattle Gray at every turn.

She shouldn’t be amused by all the shenanigans, but she was. The twins were just too clever and adorable, and Gray? It was something to see a man like him completely discombobulated. Everything about his clothes, his hair, his manner told her he was rarely out of control. She could imagine him with presidents and movie stars. But when Jem stuck his finger in Gray’s ear, the man was shocked insensible. He stammered, blinked, his cheeks turned bright pink, and all in all he made her melt like ice cream in September.

But she’d think about that later. Much later. When she was in the car. At home. At the diner. Oh, yes. If nothing else, this excursion was going to feed her fantasies for a good long time. Which could be pretty depressing if she let it be.

“Uh, Shelby?” Gray said from behind her. “Can they do this bath thing by themselves?”

“Not entirely. You need to be there to supervise.”

He stopped in the middle of the long hallway. “Supervise?”

She held back a grin. “It’ll be okay. Just remember to breathe deeply.”

“Oh, man.”

“If you’d rather clean the house and get their clothes together, we can trade.”

“No. I can do the bath thing. I hope.”

“I have complete faith.”

As they stopped at the bathroom door he gave her a look. A suspicious look with one brow raised. “Are you making fun of me?”

She nodded. “Oh, yes.”

“Great.”

She slid by him and put Scout down. It was all so odd. She felt exhilarated. Supercharged. As if the very air was filled with electricity. She didn’t want to leave the room. But the house was a disaster area, and if there was one thing she was good at, it was whipping a place into shape.

She turned on the water and made sure the temperature was right, then plugged up the tub. When she straightened, Gray had stepped back, his face a study in trepidation.

“Jem,” she said calmly, “Scout, you two know how to take a bath, right?”

“Yes!” they said simultaneously, with incredible vigor.

“You promise to wash behind your ears?”

“Yes!”

“And wash between your toes?”

“Yes!”

“And wash your hair?”

“Yes!”

She nodded. “Excellent.” She turned to Gray, who appeared a little more at ease knowing he didn’t have to do quite so much. Still, he looked like he needed a pep talk. She opened the linen closet and took out two nice bath towels and two washcloths. “It’s easy,” she whispered as she moved next to him to hand him the towels. “All you have to do is make sure that nobody drowns, that the water doesn’t get too cold and that they play nicely.”

He sighed, relaxing a bit more as his duties were explained.

“Then you dry them off by wrapping them in the towels. By then, I’ll be back with their clothes.”

“Clothes?”

“They can dress themselves.”

“Okay.”

She slugged him in the arm. “Buck up, soldier. I know you can handle it.”

He tried to smile. He didn’t succeed.

She left him there even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. He pulled at her somehow. Drew her to him with his palpable charm. And his vulnerability. It was the mixture, she figured, that made him so compelling.

When she got to the living room she did a quick survey. It was her first real look at the place, and only now did she see how beautiful it was. At least it would be when she got finished.

The living room was very large, white with pale peach trim, bleached wood floors with a multicolored rug under the leather couch. Gray’s brother and sister-in-law had done wonderful things with the walls. Three-dimensional art made of wood and rope and other natural materials tied everything together. The plants, mostly ferns, added even more life.

But all that wonderful decor was buried under a couple of feet of junk. She rolled up her sleeves and dove in.

By the time she’d collected all the toys and dirty clothes, she figured Gray was about ready for her help. After depositing the clothes in the utility room, she went in search of the kids’ room. It was upstairs, and it was a honey—one of those theme bedrooms she’d seen in magazines, the teddy bears’ picnic. The mural on the wall made her eyes pop with the bright colors and lovely details. The beds were made of thick wood, like slender tree trunks. The toy chest matched the wall, as did the dresser. How lucky Jem and Scout were to grow up here.

She found their clothes easily enough and was careful to pick out distinct styles for each child. A thump made her pause, then hurry downstairs.

She opened the bathroom door and stopped dead. Gray was on the floor, on his knees, right next to the bathtub. His sleeves were rolled past the elbows, and he had each hand on a child’s head, shampooing them at the same time. The kids were all smiles.

The floor had big wet spots, as did Gray’s shirt and pants, but it was altogether a picture of family bliss. “I can see you’ve got your hands full.”

He turned to her, and for the first time since she’d arrived, he seemed comfortable. “Did you know this stuff doesn’t burn if it gets into your eyes?”

“Yep.”

“Why don’t they do that with regular shampoo?”

“That, I don’t know.” She walked in and sat on the commode. “You guys look like you’re having a good time.”

Jem held up a green plastic frog. “I got this.”

“Very nice. What’s his name?”

“Frog.”

“Ah.”

Then Scout held up a small blue whale. “His name is Bobbo.”

“It is not,” Jem said.

“It is so.”

“Not.”

“So.”

“Kids!” Shelby got their attention, then smiled. “Did you wash behind your ears?”

They both nodded, dislodging Gray’s hands, which he rinsed before he stood up.

Scout slid under the water and came up sputtering but shampoo-free. Jem did the same a moment later. Gray shook his head at his wrinkled, wet clothes, and Shelby handed him one of the towels. Together, they dried the children and helped them dress. Shelby did the honors with the hair blower while Gray rinsed the tub.

The whole time, the kids chattered like little monkeys. Jem told her all about X-men. Scout had strong opinions about Barbie. And Shelby found herself wishing this was her life. That they were her twins. That Gray was her husband.

But, of course, it was all an illusion. A side trip from her real life. A brief, shimmering moment.

She sighed as she came back down to earth. “They’re—” She froze as her gaze went to Gray’s chest. He’d unbuttoned his shirt halfway. She could see a light sprinkling of dark hair on a chest so perfect it made her teeth hurt. Shelby felt her face go hot as she caught a glimpse of his nipple.

She jerked her gaze away, appalled at the turn of her thoughts. Good grief, she’d seen men’s chests before. And even though his was spectacular, there was no reason for her imagination to take her right to the bedroom. As if that were even in the realm of possibility.

“Did you say something about bed?”

She froze. “What?”

“A nap for the kids?”

“Oh. Yeah.” She rolled her eyes at her faux pas. “But I’m thinking it’s not going to happen right away.”

His gaze went to the youngsters, who where engaged in a contest to see who could make the most horrible face. “Right. So what’s the plan?”

“You get Jem, I’ll take Scout. Maybe we can find a movie they’d like to watch.”

“Pinocchio!” Scout shouted.

“Lion King!” Jem shouted even louder.

Gray grinned at her as he grabbed Jem by the waist and hauled him over his shoulder.

Shelby caught the look of jealousy on Scout’s face, so she bent down, caught the little one by the waist and hoisted her up like a sack of potatoes. Laughter echoed off the bathroom walls as she turned to head for the living room. After her first step, Scout grabbed hold of the bottom of her shirt.

Shelby knew what was going to happen seconds before it did, and there was nothing she could do short of dropping Scout on her head. Small fingers pulled the shirt up all the way to her bra.

Shelby turned to hide her back, but it was too late. Jem’s revolted “Eww” said it all. So did Gray’s sharp intake of breath.

“Hush, Jem,” Gray whispered.

All Shelby wanted to do was disappear. She lowered Scout to the floor, then tugged her shirt into place. Why had she worn this stupid blouse? Why hadn’t she worn her yellow top, which she tucked into her pants?

“Shelby?”

She ignored Gray’s tentative query. She didn’t want to explain about the fire. About the skin grafts. About the scars. “So which is it going to be?” she asked, forcing her voice to sound light and unconcerned. “Pinocchio or Lion King?”

The ploy worked. Scout raced out of the bathroom, and Shelby followed. The footsteps behind her told her Gray had put Jem down. By the time she reached the end of the hall, Scout and Jem were already at the VCR.

She walked a little faster, but it was no good. She felt him behind her even before he put a hand on her shoulder. She tried not to flinch.

“Shelby.”

“Look, Gray. I really do have to be going. I’m supposed to be on vacation here.” They reached the living room, and she turned to face him, determined not to let any of her roiling emotions show. “I wonder if you could point me to a place to stay for the night. Preferably something close to a restaurant.”

He looked at her for a long time. To his credit, his gaze stayed on her face. It didn’t wander to her waist, which was mostly what happened when someone saw her scars. She pretty much ceased to exist as a person. She became a fire victim, a giant scar.

“You don’t have to go,” he said, his voice so gentle she felt stabbed.

“I do, honestly. I do. I’ve had a good time here, though, and I assure you, you’ll do fine with the children. They’re good kids.”

The way he looked at her told her that he wanted to ask but he wasn’t sure he should. That was the problem. No one was ever sure.

“So, um, is there a hotel?”

He nodded. “In town. The Blue Point Inn. It’s a nice place and it has a great restaurant. It’s on Main by the movie theater, impossible to miss.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. “I appreciate you letting me barge in. It was foolish of me to come all this way when the odds were so slim.”

“I wish I could have helped.”

“I know. But there’s still one more name on the list. With any luck, we’ll hit pay dirt.” Shelby turned and headed for the kitchen to get her purse. She hated walking in front of him. She knew that, now it was safe, he was staring at her back. Feeling sorry for her.

She grabbed her purse from the counter and made a beeline for the front door. She paused, however, when she got to the kids. What a dreamer she was. To have entertained the idea that she could have this. It would never happen. Not in a million years. “Bye, Scout. Bye, Jem. You two be good, okay?”

Jem nodded absently, but Scout came over, hugged Shelby’s legs, then looked up with her wide blue eyes. “Bye, Shelby. I liked your eggs.”

“Thank you, honey. It was a real pleasure.”

The little one’s arms still hugged her legs. Shelby moved them, which she hated, but tears threatened. Big, hot, sobbing tears. No way was she going to do that here.

The second she was free, she hurried to the door. After it was open, she called another goodbye over her shoulder. But she didn’t look back.

GRAY STOOD at the window and watched Shelby pull out of the driveway. He’d handled things poorly. He should have— What? Talked about it? Joked with her?

It was the kind of situation his sister knew how to deal with. Kate was always the one who made everyone feel at ease. How she did it was a mystery. Why hadn’t he paid attention? Learned something from her?

He knew exactly why. He was too busy thinking about himself. About his women, his workout schedule, his car, his jobs, then more about his women. That’s what his mother had meant, of course. Why she worried about him. Because he was a selfish ass. He couldn’t even take care of two little kids by himself.

As he headed to the couch, the little wooden boy on the screen sang too loudly even in this big room. Weren’t the kids sleepy yet?

See. Right there. He’d done it again. Not two seconds after identifying the problem, he’d gone right back into selfish mode. He wasn’t thinking that the kids needed sleep. It was all about him wanting peace and quiet.

He sank onto the sofa and tuned out the noise around him. Damn it, he’d liked her. He’d liked talking to her. What had happened to her? He was pretty sure it was scar tissue from a bad burn. Was it all over her back? All over her body?

He winced, thinking about the pain. About what she’d gone through. It must have been hell. She wasn’t bitter, though. Not at all. Instead, she was funny, warm and compassionate. Strange how tragedy affected people so differently. Some turned against the world, and some made the world a better place.

He’d be one of the bitter ones. Especially if he was disfigured. His self-condemnation was interrupted by a small girl climbing on his lap. She smelled like soap and childhood, and for a moment he let himself think only good things.

“Uncle Gray?”

“Scout?”

“Why was Shelby’s skin all ugly?”

The good thoughts vanished. “It’s different, Scout. Not ugly.”

“Why was Shelby’s skin all different?”

“I think she was burned, kiddo. It must have hurt a lot.”

Scout’s brows went down. “Did she play with matches?”

“I don’t know.”

Scout touched his cheek. Her little hand felt cool and soft, and it was such a spontaneous gesture he had to close his eyes. “She was a nice lady,” Scout said.

“She was.”

Her hand moved to his lips in a totally guileless gesture, and he kissed her fingers. Scout’s smile made him swallow hard.

THE ROOM wasn’t large, but it was pretty. From the second floor of the Blue Point Inn, Shelby could see most of Main Street from the window. It was a peaceful little town, like several she knew in this part of Texas. Folks had lived here for generations and would continue to live here for years to come. It was a place to raise children. A place to make a home.

Shelby turned from the window, and her eyes lit upon the phone. She should call the diner. She should call Garrett, Michael, Lana. But she didn’t trust her voice. Everyone would survive without hearing from her. Instead, she went to the bed and her suitcase. She’d packed for a couple of days, just in case, and she was glad of it. She wanted nothing more than to climb into something comfy and curl up on the big chair in the corner and read her book. No, that wasn’t true. There was one thing she wanted more. She wanted to stop thinking about Gray Jackson.

Her hand went to her stomach before she gripped the zipper of the small suitcase. Once she had it opened, she worked quickly, hanging up what needed to be hung and putting her toiletries in the bathroom. Then she took out a pair of red shorts and a white, oversize T-shirt. She got out of her jeans first, folded them and put them in the case, then she lifted her blouse over her head. She reached for her T-shirt, but her gaze caught on the mirror to her right.

Stopping mid-gesture, she turned to face her image. The scar tissue wasn’t too bad around her waist, thighs and chest. Nothing she couldn’t live with. Then she turned and looked over her shoulder. The sight made her cringe.

Most of her back was hairless, poreless fake skin. The redness was nothing like before, nothing like when it was new. But there was no way anyone would mistake it for the real thing—it wasn’t. It was mostly collagen fibers, not skin cells.

And it was ugly. The kind of ugly that scars the inside, too. The teasing never went away. The way a person’s face changed after seeing it was indelible. The fire had taken so much from her.

She closed her eyes as she pulled on her T-shirt. It was enough. She couldn’t afford to feel sorry for herself for too long. That led straight into a cycle of depression that scared the hell out of her. If only Scout hadn’t—

Her eyelids popped open. The most dangerous words in the English language were “if only.” Nothing could be done about the past. All that she had were choices in the now. She could choose to dwell on this or she could opt for healthy, nurturing thoughts.

She pulled on shorts, splashed some cold water on her face and got her book out of her purse. It was a long, juicy novel, one she’d been meaning to read for ages. The author was one of her favorites, which was a good thing. She needed to get lost. To stop being in this world and enter the fictional dream. Damn it, she needed a happy ending.

CHAPTER THREE

SHELBY TURNED THE PAGE and put the edge of her dinner plate on the bottom of the book to hold it open. She hardly looked at her grilled salmon or the baby red potatoes, even though they were quite good. She’d been captured by a quiet cowboy on a mountain in Wyoming. Her eyes skimmed the pages hungrily, looking for the moment when he realized he was in love.

She was the heroine. Just like always.

Someone came into her peripheral vision, and she fought the urge to shoo them away with her hand. It was the waitress. Bella, her name tag read. A nice older woman, and Shelby smiled at her.

“Would you like a refill on your iced tea?”

“Please.”

Bella nodded, but Shelby could see her strain to read the title of the book. She flipped it closed, showing the woman the cover.

“Ah, that’s a good one,” she said. “I wish I could read it again for the first time.”

“I know just what you mean.”

“You let me know when you want me.”

“Thank you.” Shelby watched until Bella stopped at another table, then she opened her book once more. She found where she’d left off, and with each line, more of the restaurant disappeared. She could picture the mountain, the sky, the lightning. Mostly she could picture the hero. His gray eyes. His dark, thick hair. His angular nose and chin. His butt made for jeans.

She sighed as she turned another page. A child’s giggle, high-pitched, broke into her space, but Shelby pushed it away. She didn’t want to listen to children. Not tonight. Focusing more fully, she went back to the book and reread the last line. Once more, the giggle slipped in.

If it was going to be like that, she was going to finish her dinner quickly and get back to her room. It had been ages since she’d stayed up late to finish a book. Too much to do at Austin Eats. But tonight, she was going to indulge herself. A hot bath, a cold drink and her cowboy all night long.

The giggle came again, closer this time. She shoved the bookmark in place and closed the novel. She’d finished over half her meal, which was somewhat surprising. Now to finish the other half and leave.

The laughter commenced at her first bite, and Shelby couldn’t stand it any longer. She was going to find the child’s mother and give her a stern look. Which wasn’t fair. Kids had to eat, too. Hadn’t she been concerned about just that a few hours ago? Well, the look wouldn’t be that stern.

She scanned the tables to her right, but there were no children at any of them. There were three other booths like hers, and she could see two of them. No kids.

The giggle came again. No, wait. It wasn’t one giggle. It was two.

She turned slowly until she could see the booth directly behind hers.

Scout and Jem stared over the banquette, grins as wide as the Missouri.

“What on earth?”

“We came to get you,” Scout said.

Jem gave her an angry scowl. “You’re not supposed to say that.”

“I know.”

“You do not!”

“Kids,” Shelby said, “It’s okay.” She couldn’t see beyond them, but she knew Gray had to be on the opposite side of the booth. She wasn’t at all sure how to feel about this. Did he come here out of guilt? Out of pity?

“I’m getting pisgetti,” Scout announced, “and Jem’s getting a hamburger.”

“They both sound delicious.” Her neck wasn’t going to last much longer in this position. She could turn and pretend to ignore them, but that felt silly. Asking them to join her didn’t mean anything. It was only one meal, after all. “Why don’t you come here to this table? And you can bring your uncle with you.”

The twins scrambled out of the booth and scooted into hers before Gray stood up. He came to her side wearing a sheepish smile. “I know we’re intruding.”

“It’s all right.”

“Is it?”

She nodded. It was all right. At least, she hoped it would be. The urge to check her T-shirt, to make sure she was completely covered, was more than she could withstand, and her hand went to her waist. Gray caught the action, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he scooted in next to Jem.

“How’s the salmon?”

“Good.”

“It’s a pretty nice place.”

“Yes.”

“The kids haven’t been here in a long time, so I thought…”

“It’s all right.”

He sighed as he shook his head. “I’m sorry. It was a stupid thing to do. I just hated that—” He stopped midsentence.

She had to give it to him, though. Usually when people found themselves in this position, their eyes got all panicky and their cheeks burned with embarrassment. Gray seemed only mildly uncomfortable.

“I hated the way you left,” he said finally.

“I didn’t mean to upset you. It wasn’t personal. I knew you could handle everything and…” She was the one who stopped this time. She couldn’t lie. She didn’t think he could handle the children all that well, and she wasn’t anxious to get on with her vacation. “I left because I was embarrassed,” she admitted, utterly shocked at her own honesty.

Gray leaned forward, his hand halfway across the table. “I do understand. You don’t know me. But I hope you can believe I wasn’t upset. I mean, I was upset because it’s clear you were hurt, but I didn’t mind.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m saying this badly.”

“No, you’re not. It’s a difficult thing to talk about.”

“Uncle Gray, can I have a Coke?”

He nodded without looking at Jem.

“Can I have one, too?” Scout asked.

He nodded once more, but his attention never really shifted from Shelby. “Is it uncomfortable for you to tell me what happened?”

“No.” She cleared her throat, then shifted on the banquette. “I was nine. It was Halloween, and I was trick-or-treating with my brothers and sister. I was Pocahontas, complete with fringed dress. At Mrs. Winston’s house, I stood too close to the jack-o’-lantern, and the fringe caught fire. It happened very quickly. By the time my father raced up and got me on the ground, my back had third-degree burns. I was in the hospital for months. What you saw were skin grafts. All together, I had five operations.”

Gray didn’t say anything for a long moment. His gaze didn’t waver at all. “I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.”

“I can’t imagine it. Literally. I can’t conceive of going through something like that and coming out whole on the other end.”

Whole? Was she? “You do what you have to do.”

The waitress came back, and for the next few minutes, everyone concentrated on dinner. Shelby used the opportunity to audit herself. She wasn’t upset. She wasn’t even uncomfortable. In a strange way, telling him the story had made her more relaxed. He was so physically perfect she never would have guessed she’d react this way. Usually, when she was around that kind of beauty, she pretended she didn’t have a body at all. But with Gray she was incredibly aware of her body and his.

He got to her. He made her fluttery inside, anxious, but not in a bad way. If she was going to be completely honest, she’d have to admit that he turned her on like a radio. None of it made any sense. She’d run from him because he’d seen her scars, so why, just a few hours later, did she feel this intense sexual heat? She wasn’t going to sleep with him. She knew, despite his kind eyes, that he would never want her. Evidently, her body didn’t care. It was tingling in the most intriguing way.

“So,” Gray said the moment Bella left. “I don’t want to dwell on this, but I do want to ask you one more thing.”

“Go on,” she said, her voice uninflected but her insides doing back flips.

“Will you come back? Not forever, but just for tonight? I know you’ve paid for the room, but I’ll take care of that.”

She laughed, more with surprise than anything else. “Are you kidding?”

“No.” He leaned forward and reached out. “Shelby, please. Look, I know I have no business asking you, but I need your help.” He checked Scout and Jem, and they were occupied with the salt and pepper shakers. He lowered his voice so that only she could hear. “I’m horribly inept, and to add insult to injury, scared to death.”

“I know you can get through tonight, and by tomorrow, I’m sure you can find someone to help you.”

He nodded slowly. “Fair enough. It was a long shot.”

She felt badly, especially when he gave her an obviously fake smile.

“So what are you reading?” he asked, his cheery tone as phony as his grin.

She turned the book in his direction.

“Romance?”

She nodded.

“I don’t read much of that.”

“Really?” she said, moving toward playful, trying to make the dinner as pleasant as possible.

“I should. Probably would explain a lot about women.”

“I agree. Frankly, they should be required reading for all men over the age of seventeen.”

Little fingers tugged Gray’s attention away. “Uncle Gray?”

“Yes, Scout?”

“Can Shelby read us our story tonight?”

He glanced at her, then at Scout. “Shelby won’t be there, honey.”

“But, you said.”

“I know. But she has other things she needs to do.”

Scout looked at her. “Do you have other children to take care of?”

The arrow went right into the center of her back. “No, Scout. It’s just that… I just…”

“It’s okay,” Scout said.

Her little face looked genuinely disheartened. Could she really say no to that? Could she be comfortable tonight, knowing Gray was struggling with the kids?

“I want my Coke.” Jem stood on the banquette, searching for the waitress.

“Sit down, Jem.” She said the words at the same time Gray said them.

Jem sat.

Shelby smiled at Gray.

Gray smiled back.

“Oh, what the heck.” She shook her head at her own foolishness. “I’ll come. But just for one night.”

Gray’s smile lit up his face and did something awfully peculiar to her insides. What had she done?

He ended up paying for her dinner. They all went to her room, and Jem and Scout watched TV while she packed again. Gray offered to help, but she didn’t need any. He just kept smiling at her, and frankly, she was a bit disconcerted by the whole thing. Finally, he carried her bags down, insisted on paying for her room, and then walked her to her car. The kids wanted to ride with her, and she let them.

The whole way home, they chattered like monkeys while she kept her eyes on Gray’s car in front of her. What on earth was she doing? Driving straight into trouble, that’s what.

HE LISTENED to her read the story, although he couldn’t have repeated a word. He was struck by the timbre of her voice, the way her whole face got involved in the telling. He wanted her to go on forever, even though the kids were mostly asleep. Jem fought it, but even he couldn’t defend himself against her mesmerizing lilt.

Going after her had been the right thing. He hadn’t been sure up until he’d seen her face when it was so clear the children wanted her back. Of the three of them, though, he was the one who’d been most eager.

Besides, she was on vacation, right? It wasn’t as if he was taking her away from a job or her family. He’d pay her, too, in addition to taking care of her hotel bill.

Was it his fault she’d turned out to be a good cook and great baby-sitter? Or that she was so easy on the eyes? He was just lucky, that’s all. Luckiest man in Blue Point.

He stood, and she stopped speaking. The quiet moved in to fill the space, and for a moment he thought about asking her to finish the story in his bedroom.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice a low whisper now that the children were finally asleep.

“Nothing,” he whispered back. “Why?”

“You looked as if you’d smelled something terrible.”

“Nope. Just thinking.”

“While you’re thinking, come hold Scout while I sneak out.”

He went to the bed and scooped a limp Scout into his arms and lifted her off Shelby’s lap. It only took a second for Shelby to extricate herself, then push a pillow in her place.

As Gray lowered the little one, he felt a stirring the likes of which scared him half to death.

Longing. Longing for a child. For a baby girl just like Scout. Or a boy. It didn’t matter. The longing was there and it was real and he had to get the hell out of the room. If he were smart, he’d get out of the state. Because it wasn’t the first time this had happened.

He wasn’t ready for children. He wasn’t responsible enough to be a father. Hell, he couldn’t even feed them lunch. Any kids he had would be ruined for life, destined to spend hundreds of hours on a psychiatrist’s couch.

He backed away from Scout’s bed as if the proximity to the child was the reason behind this sudden madness.

His elbow hit Shelby, and he jumped, then turned to face her.

Big mistake. She had great eyes. Even better lips. The sudden desire to explore her mouth, her body, jolted him.

No, no. This was not why he’d asked her back. In fact, if she even guessed at his thoughts, she’d be out of here so fast she’d leave skid marks.

“Is there something else?”

“Hmm?”

She smiled, a little indulgently, he thought. “Is there a reason we’re standing here staring at each other?”

“Staring?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“No, we’re not staring?”

“No, we’re not staring for a reason.”

She arched her right brow. “Okay. I’m leaving now. You can do whatever you like.”

No, he couldn’t. ’Cause what he’d like to do was kiss her. Right here. Right this minute.

Shelby headed toward the door, and before he’d moved a muscle to stop her, she was gone.

He sank down on the edge of Jem’s bed. What in hell was going on? This wasn’t like him. Wanting an attractive woman was pretty much s.o.p. And he did find her attractive. The scars didn’t bother him, which actually was something of a surprise. He’d have figured he was too much of a jerk for that. Wonders never ceased.

CHAPTER FOUR

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.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.