Table of Contents

Cover Page

Excerpt

Dear Reader

Title Page

Dedication

About the Author

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

Copyright

“Who are you, Sabrina Moore?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t want to know.”

Gabe was sure that was true. He shouldn’t try to open Pandora’s box. He might never get Sabrina put back inside, where she couldn’t wreak havoc with his senses, stir his hormones—make him want what he shouldn’t have.

When her voice came, it was low. And soft. And very, very sexy.

“I’m not really a puzzle, you know. What you see is what I am.”

“And what is that?”

“I’m a student of research. I like things clear and concise.”

He leaned forward, searching her eyes. “What about Sabrina, the woman? What does she like?”

Dear Reader,

Love is always in the air at Silhouette Romance. But this month, it might take a while for the characters of May’s stunning lineup to figure that out! Here’s what some of them have to say:

“I’ve just found out the birth mother of my son is back in town. What’s a protective single dad to do?”—FABULOUS FATHER Jared O’Neal in Anne Peters’s My Baby, Your Son

“What was I thinking, inviting a perfect—albeit beautiful—stranger to stay at my house?”—member of THE SINGLE DADDY CLUB, Reece Newton, from Beauty and the Bachelor Dad by Donna Clayton

“I’ve got one last chance to keep my ranch but it means agreeing to marry a man I hardly know!”—Rose Murdock from The Rancher’s Bride by Stella Bagwell, part of her TWINS ON THE DOORSTEP miniseries

“Would you believe my little white lie of a fiancé just showed up—and he’s better than I ever imagined!” —Ellen Rhoades, one of our SURPRISE BRIDES in Myrna Mackenzie’s The Secret Groom

“I will not allow my search for a bride to be waylaid by that attractive, but totally unsuitable, redhead again!”—sexy rancher Rafe McMasters in Cowboy Seeks Perfect Wife by Linda Lewis

“We know Sabrina would be the perfect mom for us—we just have to convince Dad to marry her!”—the precocious twins from Gayle Kaye’s Daddyhood

Happy Reading!

Melissa Senate

Senior Editor

Please address questions and book requests to: Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

Daddyhood
Gayle Kaye

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my brother, my friend, Gary Sondergard— thanks for sharing my childhood. And to my own little charmers, Diane and Cathy, who inspired this book. Love and hugs.

GAYLE KAYE

had a varied and interesting career as an R.N. before finally hanging up her stethoscope to write romances. She indulges this passion in Kansas City, Missouri, where she lives with her husband and one very spoiled poodle. Her first romance in 1987 reached the finals of the Romance Writers of America Golden Heart contest

When she’s not writing, she loves to travel or just curl up with a good book.

Prologue

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Is not”

“Dad…!”

The twins were fighting again. Gabe Lawrence took the cake he was baking for their sixth birthday out of the oven. It was to be a three-tiered job, with lots of fluffy icing between the layers.

But as he flopped the round layer pans onto the kitchen countertop, he sighed at the sinkholes in the center of each. He probably should have bought a cake. But he was determined to be a hands-on dad.

Was this penance for the years he hadn’t been?

He took off the oven mitts, tossing them beside the sorry cake layers, and went to settle his daughters’ dispute.

“Dad, she’s got my Barbie and won’t give it back,” Hannah said the moment he stepped into the playroom, the one that used to be his home office.

“It’s my Barbie. Nana gave it to me—just me!” Heather retaliated, at which time each girl grabbed a leg and pulled, snapping the poor doll’s legs like a wishbone.

That really set up a howl.

“Okay, princesses, stop your crying and I’ll see if I can…perform doll surgery. Okay?”

That brought a snuffle and a sob and wide-eyed hopefulness from each girl.

“Then she can’t play with it anymore. Isn’t that right, Dad?” Hannah said.

“No one will be playing with Barbie,” he informed them. “She’ll need about six weeks to convalesce.”

Maybe in that time he would have decided which twin had ownership.

“What’s con…con…v’lesce?” Heather asked.

“It’s—Never mind, sweethearts. Just try to play. Without fighting—okay?”

Two sets of bright blue eyes peered up at him through long, fringed lashes. Small rosebud-pink mouths pursed into appealing pouts. Gabe considered his look-alikes’ small cherubic faces, full of sweet innocence, but he suspected it was only a matter of time before there’d be a new squabble between them.

He confiscated the Barbie parts and frowned, wondering if he’d made a mistake turning down his sister’s offer to come and help with the twins. But he knew he hadn’t. The girls were his—and he loved them. He’d get the hang of this fathering thing.

Somehow.

He ruffled their blond curls and tweaked their pert upturned noses, which made them both giggle. In minutes they were playing again—quietly, this time. Gabe made his way out of the room and into the den, sinking into his favorite overstuffed chair.

The twins were still adjusting to life here with him. It had been six months since the accident that had killed their mother, Gabe’s ex-wife. Meg had been a terrific mom, but he hadn’t always been the best dad in the world…and he was sorry about that. He wasn’t sure one inexperienced father could make things right again for two little girls, but if love counted for anything, they would all weather this.

He might not be experienced at child rearing but he was getting plenty of advice—from every female in the family and from the women in the neighborhood. One had even sent him a book on the subject of raising twins, a wordy tome by the renowned child psychologist, Dr. Sabrina Moore.

He unearthed the dog-eared copy from beneath a stack of kiddie books on the end table beside him. Gabe had read the book—or rather, tried to read it. It was a real snoozer, full of facts and figures and theories that he wondered if the lofty Dr. Moore had ever put to the test.

Somewhere besides a clinical lab, that is.

He scanned the glossy photo of her on the back cover. She was pretty, in a soft, don’t-touch sort of way. A brunette. With long, silky hair that barely brushed her shoulders squared for the picture. Her smile looked posed—and he wondered what it would take to make the lady smile like she meant it. Her silk blouse with its high neck didn’t do much for a man’s libido, but still he had the feeling there was a lot of sensual woman beneath that prim facade.

Not that Gabe had any business being curious.

The only women he had time for in his life right now were two soon-to-be six-year-olds who needed him. Which brought him back to the problem of the twins’ sibling rivalry.

He flipped the book over and thumbed through the pages, wondering just what intellectual theories the intriguing Dr. Moore had to offer on the subject….

Chapter One

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Interesting theories, Dr. Moore.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And that is…?”

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

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

“Hooey?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hoped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t have a wife.”

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

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

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

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

“I doubt that.”

“Doubt that you’ll attend?”

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gabe was not a lesser man.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A birthday party…?”

“Yes.”

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

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

She knew that it was.

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

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

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

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

The part that could get hurt….

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perhaps she shouldn’t have.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She’d have to remember to ask him.

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

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

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

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

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

“Ever?” her twin queried.

“Ever.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Great, grab an apron.”

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

“Just a few neighborhood kids. Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks—I think.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Two

Gabe inserted another candle into the pink cake frosting. “I baked this myself. Not bad for a beginner, huh?”

Sabrina glanced at the caved-in center of the cake in question, then up at him. “A few more birthdays and you’ll have it down pat.”

“You really think so?”

She gave him a slow smile. “No, but I think it’s nice that you tried. I’m sure Heather and Hannah will appreciate your efforts.”

He frowned. “So it’s not my best work. Check that drawer over there for a book of matches and I’ll light this thing.”

Sabrina slipped past him in the small kitchen and did as he asked. The man was a pushover for those two little girls, she thought. A real softy when it came to them—and she found that an admirable trait. Not that she had any business admiring his qualities.

She handed him the matches, and in minutes he had the candles lit and casting a warm glow against the pink frosting.

“Ready?” he asked, lifting the cake to carry it out to the party.

“Ready.”

“Can you handle the ice cream?”

“Almost as well as hot dog buns,” she teased back. Sabrina tried to tell herself she was not getting involved in this man’s domesticity, but she wasn’t so sure she believed it.

Before, she had always been able to keep her research impersonal. Her small subjects were just that— subjects, children she studied. She seldom involved herself with parents—and certainly not with single dads.

So how did she explain her presence here tonight?

Admittedly this was not her smartest move. And she wondered if it was Gabe, or the twins, who had been the lure.

Gabe got the birthday singing started, and by the time he set the cake in the center of the table, the song was in full swing, not to mention, off-key.

Sabrina tried unobtrusively to observe the twins. The two were competitive, both with their playmates and with each other. She suspected Gabe seldom got a moment’s peace.

Keep your focus on the siblings, not on their toohandsome father, she reminded herself sharply.

The girls made a wish, their eyes squeezed tightly shut in determination, then blew out the candles, each trying to take center stage as they did so. Her careful research that always showed one twin as the dominant child seemed to suffer in this household. Both girls had strong personalities. Like their father?

Her thoughts got interrupted when Gabe started the assembly-line process of cake slices then ice cream. She quickly picked up the carton to scoop out the cherry-vanilla treat.

“Small amount for small child, bigger amount for big child,” Gabe informed her.

She arrowed a sharp glance at him. “Thanks, but I think I can figure that out for myself.”

The two little girls were eyeing her with keen anticipation. “Can I have the first piece, Dr. S’brina?”

“No, me!” begged the other twin.

Sabrina had lost track of which child was which soon after she’d arrived, something she felt badly about. Gabe could have made this easier had he not dressed the two alike.

She smiled at their rivalry. “Since you both are birthday girls, how about we do this at the same time,” she said and held out a plate to each.

The two glanced at each other, then back at the plates Sabrina offered. “Okay,” they chorused.

Gabe leaned toward her, his voice low, teasing. “You handled that well. If you ever decide to give up psychology, I see a brilliant future for you as a diplomat.”

“Thank you, but I don’t intend to give up psychology anytime soon.”

No, he doubted that she would. In Gabe’s opinion Sabrina Moore was a very aloof lady who believed in her research theories. He’d bet his last dollar that work came first with her.

Did she always hold her feelings in? Let anyone get close to her? What about a social life? He had to admit he was curious.

Did she kick up her heels once in a while? Or bury her nose in some boring data? Did she have a lover, a man who held her in his arms and nibbled on her neck the way he’d been tempted to do all evening?

He’d caught his gaze straying toward her more than it should, taking in her slender waist, the curve of her derriére in the skinny black skirt she wore, the creamy expanse of her throat that her green, open-necked blouse didn’t hide. But what trapped his attention and held it was the shape of her pretty mouth. No woman should have a mouth like that without declaring it a lethal weapon. How could a man fight against the temptation of its slightly pouty shape? Resist its lure? He had no doubt that he’d see it in his restless sleep tonight—and probably for a few nights to come.

Gabe glanced up to see a little boy of about three peering over the edge of the table, awaiting his piece of cake. Behind him were four more kids of varying sizes. Sabrina was eyeing him, too.

“You’re slowing up the show,” she said, a gleam of humor in her sultry green eyes.

“Uh, sorry.” He cut the little shaver an extralarge piece.

“Small kid, small amount,” Sabrina whispered in rebuke.

“The kid has an appetite.”

“Yeah, right.” She added a scoop of ice cream to the plate Gabe handed her, a more…manageable scoop for the boy.

When the last child was served, and a few second helpings given out, Gabe and Sabrina got their chance to try the dessert.

“Mmm. This is good,” she said, sampling a bite of the cake. “I don’t even taste the sunken center.”

“I wasn’t aware sunken centers had a distinctive flavor,” he countered.

He’d arched one eyebrow, but a smile played at his lips. For one studious moment Sabrina wondered what it would be like to feel his mouth on hers— hard, persuasive, totally distracting. Gabe was a dynamic man, one any woman would have difficulty resisting.

Herself included?

She glanced away, back to the party plate in front of her. “Actually I think it’s nice you did this for your daughters,” she said softly.

“Yeah, well…I hope you don’t mind I roped you into this evening.”

“I’ll work hard to forgive you.” She smiled. “Besides, I’m enjoying myself. And the twins. Very much.”

His gaze swept her face. “Personally speaking or professionally?” he asked.

For a quick moment she didn’t know how to answer. A blush crept up her neck. She’d just been fantasizing about the feel of his lips, their taste and what his kiss would do to her. But that was not the reason she was here. Gabe Lawrence had challenged her theories, her work…and just possibly who and what she was.

And she needed to remember that.

She lifted her chin. “Professionally,” she answered.

Gabe was still considering her matter-of-fact response as the party wound down. It was still on his mind as he sent the last child home, birthday balloon and party favor in hand. The lady was keeping this evening in cool perspective.

But what about his reasons for inviting her in the first place? Had it been merely a challenge? Or a misguided desire to know more about the woman who fascinated him just a little too much? How pure had his intentions really been?

And how pure were they now?

He found Sabrina in the kitchen, her silken brown hair falling forward over one shoulder as she leaned close to the twins. Hannah held her captivated, showing her one of her birthday gifts—a new Barbie doll.

Gabe wondered what she would think about the last doll’s demise.

“Sorry to break up this little discussion, but I know two girls who should be ready for dreamland.”

Hannah and Heather were quick to voice their objections.

“But, Dad, we’re showing Dr. S’brina what we got for our birthday,” Heather announced.

“We’ll go to bed later,” Hannah said as if she were the one to make that decision.

Gabe hid a smile. He hated being tough on the girls, but it would take them forever to wind down after their day’s excitement.

And he very much wanted to spend some time with Sabrina.

“No way,” he said to his little princesses. “It’s off to bed with you. Hands and faces washed, then into your pj’s,” he ordered. “Think you can handle that?”

Heather gave a long-suffering sigh. “Dad—we’re not babies.”

“Of course not.”

He met Sabrina’s gaze. She’d been observing his interplay with the twins with a keen-eyed psychologist’s interest, but there was a smile on her face. For one dangerous moment he wondered how hard it would be to separate the woman from the intellectual.

He cursed the part of himself that wanted to try.

Sabrina was tempting, but she’d have to remain just that—a temptation. His little girls were his first priority these days.

“Will you stay and say g’night to us, Dr. S’brina?” Heather asked.

“Please,” echoed Hannah.

Sabrina glanced down into the faces of the two little angels, then up at their handsome father. She’d stayed far too long as it was, far longer than she’d intended. Longer than she should.

Gabe wore a glint of a smile. Was he asking her to stay, as well?

“Say yes! Say yes!” The girls tugged on her sleeve and Sabrina laughed softly.

How could she refuse the two little look-alikes?

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll stay until you’re ready for bed. Then I do have to go.”

When the twins disappeared down the hallway, she turned to Gabe. “Want me to give you a hand with this party mess?” The kitchen could only be termed a disaster. The patio was not much better.

“Not on your life. I’ll deal with the mess later. You’ve helped out enough this evening, considering I got you here under false pretenses.”

He had done that, Sabrina thought. Baited her into it. “I think you made your point effectively tonight,” she said quietly.

He arched a brow. “And what point is that?”

She gave a slow smile. “That possibly I don’t know all there is to know about twins.” At least his twins. “You’ve seemed to jump into this with both feet, theories be damned.”

His eyebrow arched higher. “Is that a concession speech I hear?”

“Don’t push your luck, Gabe Lawrence!”

He chuckled long and hard. “Come on, let’s get away from this party mess. Care for a cold beer to wash down the taste of pink birthday punch?”

She shook her head. “Thanks, but no.”

“Wine? I have a chilled bottle.”

Sabrina didn’t intend to stay that long. “Nothing. Thank you.”

“Suit yourself.”

He led her into the living room she’d glimpsed when she’d arrived. Here, at least, was relative neatness, an orderliness that was a sharp counterpoint to the chaos in his kitchen.

Sabrina turned around, taking in the room.

She read a definite male influence in the navy plaid sofa and two overstuffed chairs that looked comfy enough to sink into. A fireplace of red brick stood at the far end. She could picture Gabe here, reading a book to his daughters before a cheery blaze.

It was an image she liked.

Walking over to the mantel she picked up a framed photograph of the twins. “At the risk of hearing you hoot with laughter once again, explain to me how you tell the two apart.”

To his credit he only gave one small—and shortlived—smirk. He folded his arms over his chest and came to stand next to her, so close, she could feel the heat of him, smell the clean male scent of his aftershave. This near she could see there were silver flecks that danced in the deep blue of his eyes. His mouth had a sensual fullness that tugged at her senses. She suspected his kiss would be hot, not tempered with restraint. He was a man who would demand much of a woman—everything from her.

He reached for the picture and their hands brushed. His touch was warm, dangerous. “It’s easy, once you know how,” he said.

“Easy?”

“Hannah has a little quirk to her smile. See?” He pointed to the picture.

Sabrina studied the pose and saw what he meant.

It was a smile she’d seen before—on Gabe. She wondered if he was aware of the similarity he shared with his daughter.

“And when the twins aren’t smiling, what then?” she asked.

“I try to keep this a…happy little family.”

A hint of laughter lit his eyes. In the soft livingroom light they radiated intelligence, a perception of who he was and what he wanted from life. He would command a woman’s soul, as well as her heart, Sabrina thought.

The realization crossed her mind that she needed to beware.

He set the picture back on the oak mantel. “Once you get to know the twins, you’ll find other differences. Hannah’s laughter is bright, Heather’s a little slower in coming. Hannah tilts her head to the right when she’s listening to you. Heather tucks one foot behind the other when she’s feeling a little… uncertain.”

The two had only recently lost their mother. Yes, they would be a little hesitant, a little uncertain, Sabrina thought. But she suspected Gabe Lawrence was a good dad, though she had the feeling he didn’t always consider himself to be. She felt, also, that she’d gotten a rare glimpse of the girls through their father’s eyes.

Just then Hannah and Heather bounded into the room, pajamas on, faces scrubbed. One—Heather, judging by the hesitant smile—still had her hair bow in. Gabe unclipped it and tousled her hair.

Was it her professional eye that made her so aware of the relationship this small family shared with each other? For a moment she felt a pang of something akin to jealousy. Once upon a time she’d wanted this for herself. Her career, a husband, children. That was until her marriage to Phillip fell apart.

Stick with what you do best, Sabrina, she told herself.

“Will you read us a story from the new book Dad gave us for our birthday?” Heather asked.

Sabrina caught the little girl’s gesture just as Gabe had described it—one foot tucked behind the other, uncertainty evident on her small, cherubic face.

Life had taught Sabrina to go slowly into relationships—or stay away from them altogether—but Gabe’s twin daughters tugged at her resolve, and a few heartstrings, drawing her where she was afraid to go.

“If it’s all right with your dad, just a short one,” she said and glanced from Heather to her father, who was leaning a shoulder against the mantel, amusement lining his face.

He thought she couldn’t do this—and he was enjoying it. His laughing eyes challenged her, much the way he’d challenged her theories yesterday afternoon.

But Sabrina intended to show him she was made of sterner stuff.

Well, what had Gabe expected!

The two little girls had taken to Sabrina like ducks to water. The woman with all the answers—or so she thought.

He paced up and down the living room, hands jammed into his pockets, feeling very much like his little experiment of the night had backfired on him, blown up in his face. He’d wanted to show the lady psychologist up for the fraud that she was. But Sabrina had been a good sport.

She’d held her own all evening. Even reading a bedtime story to his little girls.

But did she have to be so all-fired lovely in the bargain? So tempting? He was certain she would have him thumping his pillow, the vision of those sultry eyes and that wide, sensual smile of hers playing on the inside of his eyelids until the first light of day.

From the twins’ bedroom he heard the lilt of her voice. Not the words, but the rhythmic cadence, occasionally her soft laugh. He had the feeling that reading to two little girls was a first for the standoffish Dr. Moore.

He’d caught her looking overwhelmed more than once during the evening. As if out of her element. Not that he couldn’t feel a moment of sympathy for her. He could.

After all, this whole parent thing was still very new to him.

Which was exactly why he didn’t need one pretty woman muddling his life, he thought with a groan. And he had the feeling that Sabrina Moore could do just that, given half a chance.

“Gabe.”

He stopped his pacing and spun around to meet Sabrina’s green-eyed gaze.

The soft light played around her face, dancing across her high cheekbones that were brushed with a faint hint of peach. Her lips glowed with the same peach hue. He stared, fascinated, as she nervously moistened them with the tip of her tongue.

Did she know how incredibly sexy that gesture was?

What it did to him?

He dragged a hand through his hair and struggled for his voice. “Don’t tell me you got the twins successfully bedded down on the first try,” he said, his words coming out surprisingly steady. It was more than he felt on the inside.

Sabrina smiled. “They tried to egg me into one more story, but I resisted the little charmers.”

“Good,” he said, taking a step closer. “I wouldn’t want them to get spoiled or anything.”

One soft, winged eyebrow arched attractively. “As a student of child behavior, I have to tell you it may already be too late for that, Gabe Lawrence.”

He laughed.

Sabrina met his gaze. “While you’re in a good mood, I have something I want to ask you,” she said, her voice hesitant.

“Yeah, what’s that?”

She studied his features, trying to decide how best to phrase her request.

His mouth curved up in a slow smile, his stance easy, one elbow resting against the mantel, his blue eyes probing her softly.

Sabrina drew in a steadying breath. “I would like your permission to study the girls.”

“What?”

“Their personalities, behavior modes, adaptability to the changes in their life—”

“No!”

While she’d been explaining, Gabe’s features had hardened. The sapphire of his eyes took on the color of an impending storm. In contrast, an enraged mountain lion looked tamer.

Sabrina took an instinctive step backward. “Perhaps I didn’t explain well.”

“On the contrary,” he said. “I’m sure I understood you perfectly.”

Sabrina wasn’t so sure that was true. “It would be a harmless little project. The twins would do what they do naturally and I would—”

“Dissect their every action, their every word.”

She blinked at his interpretation of what she did on a daily basis, her scientific methodology. “You make it sound so—”

“Cold?”

“I was going to say…disciplined.”

“A softer word for the same thing,” he returned, not giving an inch in his demeanor. He dragged a hand through his hair. “Those two little girls have been through a lot lately. They lost their mother,” he bit out. “All they have is each other. And a single dad who’s desperately trying to do the work of two parents.”

“Precisely why I want to do this study,” she said determinedly.

She wasn’t unsympathetic to the girls’ loss. Sabrina knew what the death of a parent could do to children. It was never easy to lose a mother—and her heart went out to the two little girls.

She would never do anything that would harm them or cause them pain. And she hated it that Gabe thought she might, however unintentionally.

On occasion Sabrina had had other parents refuse her—and that was their right, of course. Her research was important—but not if there was a price to pay.

She felt Gabe’s gaze bore into her with the coldness of a laser beam, his shoulders squared, as if for battle.

“My work could be invaluable, a benefit both to Hannah and Heather, as well as for other children. Please tell me you’ll at least think about it,” she said as her final salvo.

With that she turned and started toward the front door.

“Sabrina.”

She paused near the entry. She would almost think he’d reconsidered—except that she remembered the hard glint in his blue eyes and knew he hadn’t changed his mind.

Still she turned around.

“I know what’s best for the twins,” he said flatly.

Sabrina drew in a breath. “Of course,” she answered, and let herself out through the front door.

Gabe heard the decisive shut of the door and knew she was gone. He pounded on the mantel. Hannah and Heather had been doing so well, settling in here with him, making new friends. They’d begun to feel like a family together, which was what Gabe wanted for them all.

Oh, there were still times, sometimes late at night, when the twins cried for their mother, not fully understanding why she couldn’t be there with them, why she couldn’t hold them or kiss away their pain.

That was when Gabe would hold them, brushing away their tears, smoothing back their curls with his big ungentle hands and telling them everything would be all right, when he knew, without their mother, that would never totally be true.

Gabe went in to say good-night to his daughters and found them snuggled into the sheets on their big double bed. Their world was still too fragile for Sabrina to upset it.

But he wasn’t sure she understood that.

He probably owed her some sort of apology for barking at her the way he had. Her research was important, he supposed. But Gabe just wasn’t sure he dared risk two vulnerable little girls to whatever study the scientific Dr. Moore had in mind.

She’d asked him to at least consider what she’d proposed, and short of an apology, he supposed he could give her request a fair consideration.

Chapter Three

Sabrina had just returned from observing a group of four-year-old triplets in the Play Lab and she had a major headache.

“I don’t want to be disturbed unless the building’s on fire—and perhaps not even then,” she told her secretary, Violet Franz, as Sabrina whizzed past the older woman.

Violet peered over her glasses at her. “Are you ill, child? You don’t look well at all.”

Alerting the motherly Violet to an illness of any magnitude would risk bringing on chicken soup—or Violet’s equivalent of such.

And Sabrina didn’t want that.

She needed to be alone in her office where she could forget her afternoon with the unruly triplets. The Nelson trio were adorable—during nap time. At play they could only be termed little hellions.

’I’m fine, Violet,” Sabrina returned. ’I just have a lot of work to get done.”

“That may be, girl, but first you need a cup of tea,” the woman replied.

At least it wasn’t chicken soup. Sabrina would settle for tea. In truth, it sounded terrific about now. “That would be nice. Thanks.”

She ducked into her office, fully appreciating the temporary sanctuary it offered. Her desk was piled high with work in various stages of completion, and Violet had placed several phone messages neatly beside the phone. An overwatered philodendron struggled for life in front of the window, the only decoration in Sabrina’s efficient, stark office.

She touched a finger to the soil in the pot, which was wet enough to grow a water lily, and wondered how she could convince Violet the poor green thing would fare much better without her constant pampering.

With a rueful smile and silent apology to the plant, Sabrina settled into her desk chair and picked up her phone messages, intent on returning the calls.

“I put a spot of lemon in,” Violet said, interrupting Sabrina’s thoughts and sashaying toward her, cup and saucer in hand. “This should fix you right up.”

Only if the tea were laced with something stronger, Sabrina thought, but she thanked Violet and accepted the cup, trying a tentative sip. It was strong and hot, the lemon a nice added flavoring. Sabrina was beginning to feel better already.

Sometimes her secretary’s ministrations were helpful. “Give me a minute and I’ll have my notes from the Play Lab session ready for you to type,” she told Violet. “I’m feeling like a new woman alread—”

Before she could finish the sentence there was a sharp rap on the open office door. Sabrina and Violet glanced toward it in unison, but only Sabrina recognized the man filling the doorway.

Gabe Lawrence.

She gave a small gasp of surprise.

He looked totally intriguing in casual gray slacks and a crisp white shirt that hugged his lean, male torso. His hair was carelessly windblown, and a quick smile crossed his lips, then disappeared from sight “Hope I’m not interrupting,” he said. “But the door was open.”

Sabrina couldn’t seem to find her voice, and Violet’s gaze darted from Gabe to Sabrina and back again, faster than a spectator at a tennis match. The woman was definitely curious.

And so was Sabrina.

“That’s all for now, Violet,” she said, not taking her eyes from the man in the doorway. “You’re not interrupting a thing,” she added to Gabe. “Come in.”

Neither her gaze, nor Violet’s, missed his easy long-legged stride as he crossed the room and settled into the chair in front of Sabrina’s desk. Behind him Violet skittered out, closing the door and leaving the two of them alone.

Sabrina had not expected to see him again after the twins’ birthday party two days ago, but he had never been far from her mind. She’d thought of the twins, as well. And the happy little household she’d glimpsed.

She couldn’t help but wonder if Gabe had come as friend or foe. No doubt he’d read another chapter of Multiples to disagree with her about. She frowned.

Well, she could be big about this. “So,” she said, “what brings you to the institute?”

He leaned back in his chair and drew a long breath. “I felt I owed you an apology for the other night. I hadn’t meant to bark at you the way I did. And I’m sorry.”

Sabrina studied his face, reading sincerity in it. “Apology accepted, though it wasn’t really necessary. You’re the twins’ father—and it’s your right to do what you feel is in their best interests.”

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