“Idiot,” Jack muttered

Nicky tipped her head back and peered up at him from the toddler seat in the trolley.

“Not idiot,” the young girl protested indignantly.

“Not you, darling, me. I’ve forgotten something,” he explained, and with a sigh he shoved the trolley around the corner, nearly crashing into someone. Someone small and blond and—

“Molly?”

She froze, then turned in slow motion. Her eyes were wide and wary and beautiful, and her lips were working slightly. He had an insane urge to kiss them….

Caroline Anderson has the mind of a butterfly. She’s been a nurse, a secretary, a teacher, she once ran her own soft furnishing business, and she has now settled on writing. She says, “I was looking for that elusive something. I finally realized it was variety, and now I have it in abundance. Every book brings new horizons and new friends, and in between books I have learned to be a juggler. My teacher husband, John, and I have umpteen pets, two horse-mad daughters—Sarah and Hannah—and several acres of Suffolk, a county in England, that nature tries to reclaim every time we turn our backs!”

Kids Included!
Caroline Anderson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

‘ABRACADABRA!’

The coins vanished from one hand and reappeared magically in the other, to the amazement of the children sitting cross-legged in front of her, watching her every move with wide-eyed anticipation…

At least, that was the theory.

In practice, the coins fell out of her hand, rolled across the floor and wobbled to a halt just in front of the first row of straight-faced and sceptical little monsters. They laughed and scrabbled for the coins, the magic hopelessly blown away, and Molly sighed.

Darn Sandy and her wretched wrist—

She dredged up a smile.

‘Ah. Well, how about this trick?’ she suggested, and waved Sandy’s wand again. Her fingers disappeared up her sleeve, hunted around for a moment, then came out with a stream of brightly coloured handkerchiefs.

In theory.

She looked at the single yellow square in disgust. Obviously her knots left something to be desired…

She rootled around in her sleeve again for the rest of the colourful string, and the children tittered and giggled and nudged each other. In the back corner a man sat, watching her steadily as she poked about for the elusive end. He was the host—Jack something. Hallam? Haddon? He would have made a good poker player, she thought crossly as she rummaged. Totally po-faced, he was the man who, if she pulled this off, would pay her for her services.

Hah. The only thing she was going to pull off was the lining of the jacket, and as for being paid for this fiasco—!

Molly’s face flamed, but she persevered, and they began to laugh louder. ‘I know they’re up here somewhere,’ she muttered, and the laugh grew to a crescendo. The man was still watching her intently. His mouth twitched, and she could have hit him, or strangled him with the brightly coloured silk squares—if she ever found them.

She could feel them tugging over her shoulder, so she stuck her hand down the back of her neck and pulled, and, yes! Out they came!

The children roared their approval, laughing and clapping, and to her astonishment Molly realised that they were enjoying it. They thought—bless their little cotton socks—that she meant to camp it up! And the man with the money was laughing, too!

Thank God for small mercies, she thought wildly, and plunged on with the act.

Everything went wrong. She didn’t mean it to, but she didn’t really have to try. Sandy made it look so easy—just wait till she caught up with her!

‘Help me out—my wrist is so bad I can’t possibly do the tricks—’

Well, Sandy wasn’t the only one who couldn’t possibly do the tricks, but at least the children seemed to be on her side now. The rings steadfastly refused to come apart, the disappearing balls under the cups kept appearing again, the card trick ended with cards scattering like confetti—and through it all they laughed like little drains.

Only one more trick to go, and that was sure to get them all going. She set the top hat on the table, flicked the catch and put her hand in. Yes, she could feel it; she had its little silky ears—

‘Ouch!’

She leapt back, the hat and table went flying, and the star of the grand finale headed off across the floor of the hotel function room at a flat-out hop.

Molly, sucking her bitten finger, swore silently and violently for a moment, then, hitching up Sandy’s baggy magician’s pants, she squeezed and wriggled her way through the crowd after Flopsy.

The children were all scampering about chasing the rabbit, and Molly saw it make a run for it towards the corner with That Man. If she headed it off—

She leapt over a table, scooted across the room and dropped to her knees, skidding the last two yards into the corner. Arms outstretched for the rabbit, she dived after it as it headed for the safety of his chair.

Almost—

She stretched out her hands, toppled forwards and grabbed, and ended up with her hands fastened firmly round the rabbit—and her shoulder propped against his thigh. His firm thigh. Oh, help.

Victorious, and not a little flustered, she sat back on her heels and smiled up at him witlessly. Her hair was on end, her cheeks were flushed and she was laughing. So was he—except she had the distinct and uncomfortable feeling he was laughing at her.

The rabbit wriggled, and she dived forwards again. She wasn’t letting go of that damn rabbit for anyone. Just another inch—

She lost her balance, what little was left of it, and slowly, like an action replay on the television, she toppled over and ended up face-down in his jeans-clad and very masculine lap. Heat scalded her cheeks, and she wriggled backwards, digging her chin into his thigh to lift her head.

‘Ouch!’

Firm, strong hands cupped her shoulders and lifted her away before she could do any lasting damage. His eyes were sparkling, his lips twitching with amusement and something else—something very male and distracting that took the last of her breath away.

‘I know the advert said the show had a wonderful climax,’ he murmured, laughter threading his voice, ‘but never in my wildest dreams…!’

CHAPTER ONE

‘BUT I want a lolly!’

‘Later, darling.’

She scanned the shop anxiously. He couldn’t be here! Of all the places, and of all the people to run into all these miles away, it would have to be him!

If it was him, of course. It might not be—if she was lucky. If she wasn’t—and just recently her luck had been running somewhat thin—she could only imagine what it would do to their holiday!

Heat scalded her cheeks. The last time they’d met—the only time they’d met, in fact—had been a disaster. She could still vividly remember the embarrassment, the chaos, the pandemonium—

‘Mummy, please!’

‘Pretty please, with a cherry on top, an’ loads of juicy cream?’

‘You did promise us.’

She closed her eyes in defeat. Cassie was right; she had promised them— ‘All right, then, just this once. Go and choose, then come and find me. I’ll carry on.’

And hopefully Haddon and his handful of hooligans wouldn’t see her…

It was her. He was sure—certain of it. She’d made enough of an impact, after all, he thought with grim humour. He hurried round the corner, pushing the trolley round the aisles of the little supermarket, searching for another glimpse.

She was so damn small, of course—five foot in thick socks, and as skinny as her rabbit.

Well, perhaps not skinny, he amended, remembering the soft curves pressed against him as she’d chased the rabbit under his chair and cornered it finally, with her breasts forced against his shins and her chin resting in his lap in a very tantalising and inviting way.

She’d been flushed to the roots of that lovely natural blonde hair, her dazzling blue-green eyes wide with laughter and apology and something else—something he hadn’t had time to investigate but which had played havoc with his sleep pattern for weeks.

He hadn’t been able to contact her. The real magician—the proper one that he’d booked for the kids’ party—had been most evasive when he’d rung. He’d been offered a refund, but that wasn’t what he had wanted.

What he’d wanted, however, had been too difficult to explain—if he’d even known himself. So he’d been forced to give up.

And now here she was, more than a year later, in the same adventure holiday village as them.

With someone?

He felt a stab of disappointment, and squashed it with a silent chuckle. ‘Idiot,’ he muttered, and Nicky tipped her head back and peered up at him from the toddler seat in the trolley.

‘Not idiot,’ she protested indignantly.

‘Not you, darling, me. I’ve forgotten something,’ he explained feebly, and with a sigh he shoved the trolley round the corner, nearly crashing into someone.

Someone small, and blonde, and—

‘Molly?’

She froze, then turned in slow motion. Her eyes were wide and wary and beautiful, and her lips were working slightly. He had an insane urge to kiss them—

‘Do I know you?’ she asked with commendable cool.

Jack stifled a chuckle of admiration. He’d been a cop for too many years to mistake someone at this range—especially this someone. He smiled at her over Nicky’s head. ‘Jack Haddon—you did a party for my son Tom a year ago.’

Her eyes flared with panic, but she kept her cool. ‘There must be some mistake,’ she began, but then Seb and Amy and Tom came charging round the corner and slithered to a halt, staring at her in delight.

‘It’s Molly the Magician!’ Tom yelled, and the colour in her cheeks slid up into her hair and darkened to a fetching crimson.

‘Hi, kids,’ she said weakly, and he met her eye and waited. She swallowed and smiled feebly. ‘Um—yes, I think I remember now.’

‘You brought a rabbit, and it ran away under the seats,’ Amy reminded her.

‘And we all chased it, and you caught it under Jack’s chair, but it got frightened and wee’d on you,’ Tom added.

She gave a breathless little giggle and bit her lips to trap the laugh. ‘So it did. Well, nice to see you again.’ She edged away, her eyes flying up to meet Jack’s and then flying away again. ‘Have a nice holiday.’

‘You, too.’ Then he added, because he was suddenly very curious, ‘Are you here all week?’

‘Um—yes.’

His heart, unaccountably, soared, and his mouth quirked into a smile of its own accord. ‘Good. I’ll see you round.’

Molly returned the open, friendly smile a little distractedly, and made her escape. She couldn’t believe he didn’t hate her. It had been the most dreadful party.

She gave a little moan of anguish at the memory, just as her kids came running up. ‘We’ve got orange lollies,’ her son said. Her daughter gave her a keen look.

‘Are you all right? You made a funny noise, and you’re a very strange colour.’

She pasted on a smile. ‘I’m fine. Come on, guys, we’ve got to find out where you need to be in the morning, and we have to go back and unpack, and then maybe we’ll have time for a swim—’

She was gabbling, running off at the mouth a mile a minute, but it was all his fault. He just turned her inside out with that knowing, sexy smile and those laughing eyes—

‘Damn.’

‘Mummy!’

She hadn’t realised she’d said it out loud. She threw an apologetic glance at her son. He was looking mildly scandalised and a little fascinated, because she simply didn’t swear—at least, not aloud, and certainly not in front of them. ‘Sorry, Philip. Right, let’s go and pay for this lot and we can go back to our cabin.’

Unloading the shopping half an hour later was a chastening experience. Bread, but no butter or marge. Peanut butter—they all hated peanut butter; she hadn’t bought it since David left—oven chips, a small pepperoni pizza, a pint of skimmed milk, not semi-skimmed as usual—the list of oddities and inconsistencies rambled on. Blue cheese, a tin of tuna, no salad or teabags—the man had distracted her so badly she couldn’t think.

‘So, what’s for supper?’ Philip asked curiously, eyeing the collection with distaste.

‘Um—I’m not sure. I’ve forgotten one or two things.’

‘We could eat out—they’ve got a pizza place in the square,’ Cassie was kind enough to point out.

‘Yeah, can we?’ Philip asked, his eyes wide and hopeful. They never ate out.

Molly, who cooked for a living, thought it sounded a very good idea all of a sudden. ‘Fine. I’ll put this lot in the fridge and we’ll go and swim, sort out where we all have to be and then have supper.’

The pool was wonderful. There was a wave machine, a flume, wild water rapids, a swirly river thing that swept you round an island, and, best of all, a hot whirlpool tub. The kids were strong swimmers, and sensible, so after they’d explored the pool complex together, she sent them off with strict instructions to keep an eye on each other and wallowed in the hot tub, watching out for them as they climbed the steps to the top of the flume.

‘Mind if I join you?’

Her heart jolted wildly, and she looked up to be treated to acres of muscular, hairy thigh and lean washboard abs that made her want to moan out loud.

‘Feel free,’ she croaked, shuffling up a little, and he squeezed in beside her. They were hardly alone, there were two other couples in the big round tub, and Molly was intensely grateful for them. Safety in numbers, she thought a little hysterically, and then wondered what on earth she was worried about. He thought she was a complete twit. Who wouldn’t, after the way she’d performed?

He settled in beside her with a big sigh, and she was enormously aware of him just inches away. His foot brushed hers, and she jumped as if she’d been bitten and shuffled a little further away.

He smiled knowingly. ‘Sorry,’ he murmured, but she knew he wasn’t. Damn.

They sat in silence, cosseted by the bubbles, while she tried not to think about his lean and very masculine body, so close she could reach out and touch it—and then the other couples climbed out and left them.

Molly scooted round a bit, not quite opposite him but not so close, either. ‘Where are the children?’ she asked to fill the silence and to quell the riot in her mind.

‘Seb’s keeping an eye on them. They all swim like fish, even Nicky, but he’s got her in the paddling pool and the others are going on the flume. I thought I’d take five, and Seb knows where I am.’ He propped his head back and closed his eyes with a sigh. ‘Are you here on your own?’ he asked lazily.

‘No—I’ve got the children with me.’

His eyes flew open. ‘Children?’

‘Yes, children. You know, those little bits of DNA that grow up to persecute us?’

He chuckled. ‘Them,’ he said with a smile, and studied her searchingly. ‘I didn’t realise you had children. You look too young. Are they in the crèche?’

She laughed a little wildly. ‘You have to be kidding. They’d skin me alive before they let me put them in there.’

He glanced around. ‘So are they with your husband?’

‘Um—no. I—ah—we’re here alone. They’re swimming.’

His eyes widened. ‘They can’t be old enough! Not unless you started at ten.’

Her laugh was getting a little hysterical. ‘You are too kind. I think you also need your eyes checked. I have grey hairs, and bald bits where I’ve yanked the grey out, and wrinkles you could hide inside!’

‘And I’ve parked my Zimmer just round that rock.’

She laughed again, softly this time. ‘I’m thirty-one—and you’re a million miles from needing a walking frame.’

He grinned. ‘At the moment, but I have a hideous feeling that’s all going to change. I’m doing a mountain-bike ride with Nicky on the back tomorrow morning that will probably kill me, even though it’s supposed to be gentle, and then in the afternoon for my sins I’m abseiling with Seb while the others do canoeing and finger painting variously.’

‘Let me guess—the baby’s finger painting.’

‘Yup. I hate to think what state she’ll come back in.’

‘She’ll be fine—send her in something old and tatty.’ Molly shifted a little so she could see him better. ‘So, where’s your wife while all this is going on?’

He met her eyes with a clear, level gaze. ‘I don’t have a wife. Where’s your husband?’

And that was direct! She filed the information about his wife and answered him frankly. ‘Australia—dodging the maintenance payments.’

‘Ah. Hence the magic act.’

‘No, not at all. That was to help out a friend.’

‘You were good.’

‘I was awful.’

‘I thought you were very funny.’

She gave a strangled laugh. ‘It was meant to be slick and fast and magical—not a take-off of Tommy Cooper.’

He tipped his head and grinned. ‘I could see you in a fez. I don’t suppose you want to do a repeat performance—?’

She laughed and shook her head. ‘Oh, no. It was definitely a one-off. Never again.’

He stretched, and she tucked her feet up just to be on the safe side.

‘So, what do you do, then?’

‘I’m a nursery nurse—except I’m not. I used to run a crèche but I needed to be around in the school holidays after they grew up a bit, so I did a cookery course and now I’ve got a catering business. I make sandwiches and deliver them to various outlets every day, and I do the odd bit of catering for dinner parties and wedding buffets.’ She tipped her head a little and studied him. ‘So what do you do? Apart from keeping up with the children?’

He grinned, a lop-sided tilt of his mouth that creased his eyes and softened the angular planes of his face and made her heart hiccup. ‘I write crime novels—detective stories about people perpetrating convoluted and bizarre crimes on unsuspecting members of the public.’

She chuckled. ‘Like me, you mean?’

‘Absolutely. My current heroine is a little like you. She’s small and feisty—she’s a victim, but she escapes the final thrust and lives to tell the tale.’

‘I’m so glad,’ she said with a smile, and wondered if his heroine was like her, or if he was just being flattering. ‘Where do you get your ideas?’

His face closed a little. ‘I was a cop,’ he said lightly, but his eyes were suddenly shielded.

I was a cop. Just that, but it told her so much—and asked a million more questions. Like, had it been the end of his marriage—?

‘Did she walk out?’

He blinked. ‘She?’

‘Your wife.’

His mouth hardened, and she flushed and sat up in a flurry of bubbles and arms and legs. ‘Sorry, that was intrusive.’

To her surprise he answered. ‘Yes, it was—and yes, she did. She found it all too much.’

‘And left you with the kids.’

He looked down into the water. ‘Not exactly. Look, I have to go. I’ll see you around.’ He sat forward. ‘Where’s your cabin?’

‘Area B—by the lake.’ What did not exactly mean?

‘So’s ours. What number?’

‘B15.’

‘We’re B19—I’ll look out for you. Perhaps we can get together—it would make a change to talk to another adult. Talking to a strand of mutant DNA gets a little tedious at times.’

His mouth quirked, taking the edge off his words, and he stood up. Water streamed off his body, running in rivulets down his arms and legs and that fascinating chest with the little vee of hair between the nipples—

‘Jack?’

She looked behind him at the boy standing there, a little girl in his arms. They were nothing like him, the boy tow-haired and wiry, the girl blonde and baby-plump, reaching out chubby arms to her father. The oldest and the youngest of his brood, she remembered.

He took the baby in his arms and kissed her, then grinned at the boy.

‘Thanks, Seb. Going on the flume?’

‘The rapids. Amy and Tom are after an ice-cream.’

His voice cracked and he coloured, flicking Molly an embarrassed glance.

Puberty, she thought, was such a painful thing. Jack looked at her. ‘Why don’t you round up your children and join us at the pool bar?’

She shook her head and stood up, conscious of her figure in the snug black one-piece that left none of her curves or dimples to the imagination. ‘Sorry, no time. We have to check where we’re going tomorrow, and then apparently I’m treating them to pizza. Thanks, anyway.’

He nodded, his eyes sweeping her body, and she forced herself to stand straight and tall under his scrutiny. Well, straight, at least. It was difficult to stand tall when you were barely five foot.

‘We’ll see you round.’

She nodded, and watched as they went off together. Seb was quite a different shape from his father, she thought, watching them. Wiry and not so tall, but probably going to head on up and overtake him in time.

Like Philip. He was all arms and legs at the moment. Perhaps he’d grow into his height before he went up any more. She hoped so, because just now he looked like a stick insect.

Cassie, though, was tiny and dainty and just like her mother.

She wondered again what he’d meant by not exactly when she’d asked if his wife had gone off and left him with the kids. What a strange response. And they called him Jack.

Her curiosity piqued, she picked up her towel, hugged it round her shoulders and picked her way carefully round to the queues for the flume and rapids.

A boy cannoned into her and grinned, and she recognised him as Tom, Jack’s youngest boy, with a girl—Amy, was it?—in tow. Her own weren’t far behind, and she had to go on the rapids with them twice before she was allowed to drag them off to the activity checking point.

Philip was doing water sports all the next day, and Cassie was riding in the morning and canoeing in the afternoon.

So she’d see Jack and his brood again tomorrow anyway.

Odd, that little flicker of hope the thought generated.

Jack wondered what Molly was doing. Not the ‘gentle’ mountain-bike trek he was on, anyway.

Sensible woman.

His legs killed, his chest heaved, his body was streaming with sweat—and he’d thought he was fit!

Hah!

Nicky’s hot, sticky little hands on his back didn’t help, but it was curiously comforting to have her close like this. He wondered how the others were getting on—and what Molly was doing.

Watercolours? A pampering massage?

He groaned silently at the thought of her body stretched out naked, smeared with green gloop, with some unknown masseur kneading and squeezing the muscles.

Lucky b—

‘Jack?’

‘Hi, Nicky. You OK, sweetheart?’ He turned his head and smiled at her, and her little sunny face beamed back at him.

‘Need a wee,’ she announced cheerfully.

Oh, hell. It was the second time, and each time he’d had to struggle to catch up.

The joys of parenthood. Oh, well, perhaps sweating up the hill after the others would settle his libido down and quieten his raging hormones…

Molly stood on the edge of the building, her feet braced against the side, her body hanging out into free space, and wondered what on earth she was doing.

Abseiling?

For fun?

‘Just pass the rope through that hand and pay it out bit by bit—that’s it. That’s fine. You’re doing really well.’

She was? Sweat was breaking out all over her face, and the soles of her feet were crawling with nerves. The ground seemed a zillion miles away.

Still, it could have been worse. If she’d been on the afternoon course, she would have had Jack watching her. It would have put her off so badly she probably would have dropped like a stone.

She might anyway, just thinking about him! She forced herself to concentrate before she killed herself and left her children without a mother…

‘Hi, Tom. Good day?’

‘Brilliant! I learned to roll over in the canoe and come up again, and—ugh, what’s happened to Nicky?’

Jack grimaced. ‘Finger painting.’

‘Looks more like face painting.’

‘Mmm. Where’s Amy?’

‘Oh, she’s got a friend. There she is—her name’s Cassie.’

Jack looked, and his heart slammed against his ribs. Molly was coming down the beach towards the girls, smiling that lovely bubbly smile that used every muscle in her face, crinkling her eyes and tilting her nose and widening that kissable, soft mouth—

Hell.

‘That’s Molly the Magician,’ Tom said, looking longingly at her. ‘She was really cool. She must be Cassie’s mum.’

‘Must be,’ Jack murmured, looking at Molly every bit as longingly. She reached Cassie and hugged her briefly, and he wondered what it would feel like to be the recipient of that hug. The child was the spitting image of her mother, but without the sex appeal. No doubt she’d get it in spades once she was older, and her mother would have her hands full fending off would-be suitors.

His gaze switched to Amy, a darker blonde, more mousy, with pale skin and clear blue eyes, just like her mother. Jack felt a pang of sorrow and hugged little Nicky closer. ‘Shall we go and get Amy?’

And, coincidentally, bump into Molly again. She didn’t notice them approaching, so his greedy eyes absorbed every detail of her. She looked good enough to eat in shorts and a skimpy top that did terminal things to his blood pressure. Those legs—

‘Hello, Molly,’ he said softly.

She looked up, her eyes wide, and those delectable lips tilted. ‘Hi, there,’ she said with that open, ingenuous smile that did him in. ‘Picking up the kids?’

‘Yes.’ His voice was gruff and sounded as if he hadn’t used it for a month. He cleared his throat. ‘Had a good day?’ How was the massage? Blast. Quell that thought.

‘Fine—bit scary. I was abseiling this morning. I must have been mad. How about you?’

Jack found himself grinning like a Cheshire cat—a tom cat, to be exact. ‘The mountain-bike trek was all up-hill, all the way round.’

‘That’s not possible,’ she said with a laugh.

‘Oh, it is. Believe me. They hire someone to tilt the earth—they must.’

She chuckled again. ‘And your abseiling?’

‘A piece of cake by comparison. I was so busy worrying about Seb I hardly noticed my own descents.’

She looked around. ‘Where is he?’

‘Gone back to the cabin. I said we’d meet him there.’

She nodded and looked around. ‘Philip! Come on, darling.’

Philip came, apparently very reluctantly, and somehow they ended up on their bikes all heading back in the same direction.

It seemed as natural as breathing to offer them all a drink as they wobbled back into Area B, and after a second’s hesitation that Amy and Cassie’s pleading overwhelmed, Molly gave him a wary smile and accepted.

His heart thumped again, and for a ridiculous second he felt as if he’d asked her out on a date.

Absurd…

The cabin wasn’t really big enough for eight of them, but he threw open the patio doors and they spilled out onto the short, scrubby grass beside the lake. Ducks came waddling up expectantly, and within moments Nicky was there asking for bread for them.

He absent-mindedly handed her a slice and searched the fridge. Not enough orange for all of them; not enough of anything. He needed to go shopping again.

He diluted the juice, used small glasses and watched Molly as discreetly as he could.

He was watching her. Probably looking for imminent signs of madness. She couldn’t believe that he’d really liked the magic show, and there was no way it was her legs he was studying, so it must be the lunatic tendencies he was waiting for.

‘So, what’s on tomorrow?’ she asked.

‘Ah—tomorrow. Monday? Let’s see—Seb’s bungee-jumping and doing some commando thing, Amy’s doing the theatre workshop all day and Tom’s skateboarding and trail-biking, I think. How about you?’

‘The same, I think. I know Philip’s trail-biking in the afternoon, and Cassie’s certainly doing the theatre workshop. She’ll enjoy that, being with Amy. They seem to get on very well.’

His eyes tracked to the children. ‘They do. I’m glad. I was wondering how it would work, but finding a holiday that suited all five of us was a nightmare. Usually at least some of us are bored some of the time, but I don’t think we’re going to have time to be bored this week.’

She chuckled. ‘No. I think we’re going to be pooped instead. I feel tired already! What about the little one?’

‘Nicky?’ Again his eyes tracked to her, as they often did, his internal radar keeping tabs on the active youngster, she thought. ‘I think Nicky and I are in the farmyard tomorrow morning, and then in the afternoon she’s in the kindergarten and I’m kart racing.’

‘So am I!’ she exclaimed, and then could have bitten her tongue out. Did she have to sound so enthusiastic? He’d think she was following him round! Oh, Lord, her and her big mouth—

‘That’s great,’ he said, and he sounded sincere and—interested? No. He was just glad to have company. It was a bit daunting joining new groups every session, having to work with total strangers. It was easier if there was someone there that you’d seen before.

That was all he meant—surely?

‘What about the morning?’ he asked.

‘I was going to have a lazy couple of hours with a book,’ she confessed.

‘You could always join us in the farmyard,’ he suggested.

Was that interest in his eyes? Possibly. Oh, lawks. Nobody had looked at her like that for so long she wasn’t even sure!

‘Thanks—I’ll think about it,’ she said, vowing to do no such thing. No, she’d lie in the bath, read a book, pamper herself with body lotion and a thorough facial treatment, and lie in the sun.

‘I tell you what, if you’re coming, let me know before eight-thirty.’

‘I will,’ she agreed, knowing she wouldn’t do any such thing.

No way was she walking round a farmyard with a man with lazy, sexy eyes and four children. Oh, no!

CHAPTER TWO

‘MOLLY?’

She jerked up into a sitting position, her lids flying open, and met Jack’s laughing eyes with an inward groan.

‘Hi,’ she mumbled through stiff lips. She tried to smile, and felt the skin shatter all over her face. Her hands flew up and covered the hideous mask, and with a moan of anguish she flopped back against the sun lounger and glared at him. ‘I thought you were at the farmyard?’ she wailed, cracking furiously.

He grinned, quite unabashed at having caught her in such disarray. Damn.

‘Seems I wasn’t needed there.’

You’re not needed here, she nearly retorted, scrambling to her feet and clutching the sides of her dressing gown together. The only good thing about it was that he couldn’t see the flaming colour in her cheeks under the crumbling face pack.

‘Give me a minute,’ she muttered, and felt a chunk of the vile green mud flake and fall off. She fled for the sanctuary of her bathroom, trailed by a masculine chuckle that did nothing for her temper—or her equilibrium.

Ruthlessly she crumbled the face pack and scrubbed it off with warm water, slapped on some moisturiser that made her go all shiny as well as pink, and dragged on her shorts and T-shirt. Hmm. She looked about sixteen—which, come to think of it, had to be an improvement on thirty-one.

She shoved her feet into sandals, wriggling into them as she walked, and found him sprawled on her sun lounger, face tipped up to the sun, eyes shut, utterly at ease.

‘Coffee?’ she snapped, and he opened one eye and squinted at her in the sunlight.

‘If you’re sure it’s no trouble.’

‘It’s no trouble,’ she said ungraciously, and flounced back into the cabin. Fancy catching her like that! She’d looked a total fright! He might have warned her he was coming! She banged around in the little open-plan kitchen area, smacking mugs down on the worktop, popping the seal on the instant coffee and tapping her foot while the kettle slowly came to the boil.

‘You’re mad with me.’

Her head jerked up and she glared at him over the kettle. ‘Why should I be mad with you?’

He smiled understandingly. ‘Because I caught you looking like a refugee from a frog pond?’

She stifled the smile. ‘You have such a way with words.’

He laughed, propping his arms on the half-wall that surrounded the kitchen area and leaning over towards her with that engaging grin of his. ‘Am I supposed to say you looked ravishing?’

‘And add lying to your sins?’

‘Maybe it’s not a lie.’

‘And maybe you’re a frog. That would explain a lot.’

He smiled. ‘You could always kiss me and see if I turn into a prince.’

Her heart unaccountably thumped. ‘In your dreams,’ she shot back, refusing to smile.

‘Grouch.’

‘You’d better believe it. I’m not my sunny best when I’m caught like that.’

He straightened up, his mouth twitching. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any point in telling you you’d look wonderful covered in mud from head to foot?’

She arched a brow. ‘Hardly. I’d only think you had a kink about women mud-wrestlers—either that or you really are a frog.’

His eyes sparkled with humour and he let the smile out, drawing her attention to the firm fullness of his lips and the hard angle of his beautifully-sculpted jaw. Perhaps she ought to kiss him and find out—?

‘Penny for them.’

She laughed then. ‘No way. Black or white?’

‘Black—strong, no sugar.’

How had she known that? She handed him the mug over the little wall, and scooping up her own she went out into the little sun-trap patio at the back of the cabin. Like his, it looked out over the lake and was open to anyone who chose to walk past it—the last place she should have sat with her face pack on.

She’d thought she was safe, though, because there hadn’t seemed to be anyone about. It was just her luck that he’d come looking for her and found her like that! She sat on one of the chairs at the picnic table, tucking her legs up under the chair and chasing a little pine-needle round the table top.

He sat down on her right, looking out over the lake, his legs stretched out under the table and crossed at the ankle. She hitched hers a little tighter under her, out of reach. No way was she playing footsie with him with the cabin just behind them and not a child in sight to protect her from his abundant charms!

‘Gorgeous morning.’ He stretched his arms over his head, locking his fingers behind his neck and yawning hugely. His T-shirt drew taut over the muscles on his chest, and she had to drag her eyes away before she disgraced herself.

She stared at the lake, counting ducks until her heart-rate was back under control.

‘So, how come you weren’t needed?’ she asked to fill the silence—and when she could trust herself to speak.

‘They had enough helpers, and Nicky seemed quite happy. She’d got to know one of them yesterday doing finger painting, apparently.’

‘So you thought you’d come and persecute me?’ she asked with a smile to take away the offence. Actually, she was quite pleased he had, despite the face pack. He was fun, and it seemed like years since she’d had fun—even if she didn’t intend to play footsie.

‘Something like that,’ he replied with a smile, and his eyes were warm and kind and crinkly at the corners, as if he did it often. It made her go all gooey inside—which was ridiculous, considering he couldn’t possibly be really interested in her. He was just passing the time. Idle flirting. Most men did it, like breathing, without even noticing.

He drank his coffee, then peered into the bottom of the mug and set it down with transparent and very obvious regret.

‘More?’ she offered automatically.

The smile was lazy and sexy and satisfied. ‘I will if you will.’

For a moment she wondered what he was talking about, but then collected her scattered wits. ‘I’m fine—I usually only have one.’

He sat up, the smile fading, searching her face. ‘I’ll go if you want to get back to your vegetative state.’

She laughed and stood up, scooping up his mug. ‘No, I’ve vegged enough. Black again?’

‘Please.’

She made the coffee and took it out, setting it down in front of him. ‘There was some research done a while ago that linked strong black coffee with sterility, but I guess if you’ve got four children that rather blows their research away,’ she said with a grin.

Something changed in his eyes, and he gave a short, humourless grunt of laughter. ‘We may never know,’ he said quietly. ‘They’re not my kids.’

‘Not—?’ Molly swallowed and dragged in a lungful of air. There she went again, she thought, jumping in with both feet.

‘Not yours?’ she finished, still on autopilot, wondering all sorts of things. Like, if not his, then whose? Was he their uncle? Godfather? Guardian? Friend? Stepfather, maybe. They called him Jack. And where were their real parents? Was his ex-wife their mother? And where had the parents been a year ago at that dreadful party—?

‘Their parents are dead,’ he told her, answering at least one of the questions.

A wave of regret washed over her, drowning the frenzied thoughts for the moment. ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured automatically. ‘How awful for them. How? What happened?’

He sighed. ‘Nick was my partner—we worked together,’ he told her, his voice expressionless. ‘He was shot working under cover. His wife was just pregnant with Nicky at the time, and he didn’t know. Then while she was pregnant she found out she had cancer.’

‘Oh, no.’ Molly put her hand over her mouth, stemming the questions, letting Jack talk. After a moment he went on.

‘They couldn’t treat it because of the baby. She died when Nicky was five months old.’

‘And you took the children on,’ she added softly, aching for them all.

‘Yes. I’m Tom’s godfather anyway. I married Jan just before Nicky was born.’

Whatever she’d expected, it hadn’t been that. ‘You didn’t waste any time,’ she said without thinking, and his face hardened.

‘There wasn’t a lot of time to waste,’ he said harshly, and scraped back his chair. ‘I’d better go and pick Nicky up. Thanks for the coffee.’

And he went, leaving the full mug slopping gently on the plastic table. She mopped it up mechanically, throwing the coffee down the sink, and wondered how she’d grown so tactless in her old age. Fancy accusing him of marrying the children’s mother in undue haste, without knowing anything except the barest outline—and she only knew that because she’d blundered onto the subject by talking about sterility!

‘What a fool,’ she muttered, and wondered if he’d ever speak to her again. Probably not. He’d probably ignore her, and she’d deserve it. Damn.

And then she forgot her own problems and remembered the children, Seb and Amy and Tom, who must have grieved bitterly for their parents, and little Nicky, who had never seen her father and wouldn’t remember her mother, and the ache that had been growing for the last few minutes welled up and spilled over.

What had it been like for Jack, losing his friend and then his—well, wife, really, she supposed. Had he loved her for years? And the children—how had they coped?

She sniffed and scrubbed away the tears. Poor little things. Fancy growing up without a mother. Who would cuddle them when they were hurt and frightened, and tell them—especially Amy and Nicky—all the things girls needed to know and boys needed to understand?

Jack, of course, being mother and father to them.

And what kind of a man was Jack to take them all on? He must be a complete fool, or an angel. Either that or he had loved their mother—perhaps was Nicky’s father, even—and he was doing it out of guilt.

Whatever, he was doing it, and the vast majority of men would have run a mile before they’d take on such a responsibility.

Her estimation of him went up another notch, and she wondered yet again if she’d damaged their tentative friendship beyond repair. She hoped not, because if ever a man needed help it was this one, and, for some crazy reason she just couldn’t fathom, she wanted to be the person to give it…

Jack waited by the entrance to the go-kart rink, looking out for Molly. She’d said she was karting this afternoon, and he owed her an apology for storming off like that. He’d just had so much of it from Jan’s mother, and initially from the children, too. He hadn’t wanted to deal with it again, but even so he should have expected her reaction and stayed to explain the reasons to her.

Instead he’d flounced off like a toddler with a tantrum, and probably left her upset and confused.

Damn.

There she was, dressed in jeans and trainers and a T-shirt, walking tentatively towards him. He went to meet her.

‘I’m sorry—’

‘I’m sorry—’

He gave a rueful laugh, and she smiled, cautious and uneasy. ‘I never should have said it. Why you married her is none of my business.’

‘I should have explained—I know all the things going through your head; I’ve heard them all. Let’s just say for now it was for the kids. I’ll tell you more later—if you’ll listen?’

The strain left her face. ‘Of course I’ll listen,’ she said, and he felt as if a weight had been taken off his chest.

‘Good. Right, let’s see if frogs can drive karts.’

‘Meaning you, or me?’

He grinned. ‘Either. Both.’

‘Speak for yourself.’

‘Ribbet-ribbet.’

He saw the laughter bubble up inside her, transforming her worried expression. ‘Idiot,’ she said, and he grinned again, absurdly pleased with himself for making her smile and bringing the light back into those gorgeous blue-green eyes.

He was disgustingly good at karting. She struggled to control the feisty little machine, but Jack didn’t seem to have any such problem. He whipped past her time and time again, his focus absolute, his concentration mind-boggling.

When they stopped, he unravelled himself from the little rollerskate of a kart and stretched, grinning from ear to ear. ‘That was brilliant. I haven’t done that for ages.’

‘I haven’t done it ever,’ she said drily, ‘and it shows.’

He chuckled. ‘You did fine.’

‘You didn’t even see me. You were going too fast to notice.’

‘Oh, I noticed.’ His mouth quirked and he searched her eyes. ‘We need to fetch the kids. I’d better go; I have to be in three places at once.’

‘Why don’t I get the boys? Then you can pick up the girls—the theatre workshop’s quite near the kindergarten, and the trail-bikes are right over on the other side. It would make sense.’

He nodded thoughtfully. ‘You sure? That would be great.’

He did have the most gorgeous eyes, she mused. ‘Absolutely sure. I’ll meet you back at the cabins in a bit.’

He waved her off at the bike park, and she headed across the site, following the wiggly paths amongst the cabins until she reached the trail-bikes.

The boys were just coming out, looking grubby and cheerful, and she waved to them.

‘Where’s Jack?’ Tom asked, peering round.

‘Picking up the girls. You’re both coming back with me and we’re meeting up at the cabin. Have a good time?’

‘Brilliant!’ Philip said. He could hardly keep his feet on the ground he was so high, and Tom was the same. They went ahead, chattering all the way back to the cabin while she struggled to keep them in sight, and threw their bikes down and rushed round the back to find the others. She propped the bikes up, locked them and followed more slowly.

Jack was there with the girls, sprawled behind his cabin on a sun lounger, Nicky draped over his chest fast asleep while the boys blasted Seb with a loud and chaotic resumé of their trail-biking exploits.

She sat on the grass beside Jack and tipped her head towards Nicky. ‘She looks bushed,’ she said quietly.

‘Busy day. She’s only two and a half; it’s all a bit much. I might take tomorrow morning off and do something quiet with her.’

Molly grinned. ‘You’re just looking for a way out—too much activity for your old bones.’

He gave her a wry grin. ‘You’d better believe it. I’m supposed to be doing a paintball game with Seb tomorrow—all that crashing about in the woods getting scratched to bits and dolloped with paint—I can hardly wait.’

‘You’ll love it.’

He snorted, then looked down, his fingers playing idly with the baby’s blonde locks. ‘Maybe, but she’s tired. I don’t think she can cope with another busy day.’

‘I’ll have her if you like,’ she offered, before her brain took over.

‘You’re mad.’

She smiled, covering up her regret at yet another impulse. ‘Probably. I like little children. We can feed the ducks and read a book and make biscuits, and she can have a nap if she needs it.’

He looked thoughtful—because he didn’t trust her? Because she’d sounded forced and over-jolly? She must be nuts. If anyone needed a day off she did—and then she looked at the dark shadows under Jack’s eyes, and the lines of fatigue in his cheeks, and her soft heart melted all over again.

‘I am a trained nursery nurse,’ she reminded him gently, ‘and I’ve brought up two children alone for the past five years. I can cope.’

He pursed his lips, then nodded, swallowing. ‘If you really don’t mind. I can’t be everywhere at once and I feel I ought to spend some time with Seb doing man stuff, you know?’

She smiled softly. ‘Yes, I know. I have a friend I bribe occasionally to do “man stuff” with Philip. You go and have fun with Seb. It’s just too easy to forget how important these little things are.’

He nodded. ‘Tell me about it. I spend my life juggling—and most of the time I drop all the balls.’

‘I’m sure you don’t. The kids all look well and happy.’

‘I try.’ He looked down at Nicky again, then at Molly. ‘I’d offer you a cup of tea, but she looks too comfy to move.’

‘I’ll get you one.’

‘Bless you.’ The smile crinkled his eyes, just a little, an almost imperceptible softening of his features. It made him devastatingly attractive—at least to Molly. She stood up hastily, brushed off her jeans and went into the kitchen. It was the same layout as hers, so finding things was easy, which was just as well because that tiny smile had utterly scrambled her brains…

They met just after nine, when the five younger children were safely tucked up in bed and Seb was slouched in front of the television. Jack appeared at the patio doors at the back of her cabin, and together they strolled down to the lakeside.

It was a beautiful evening, the sun’s last rays dying over the water and touching the trees with gold. Ducks and geese glided silently over the surface of the lake, rippling the still water and scattering the sunlight.

It was peaceful and beautiful, and they sat down together on the edge of the water and just absorbed the stillness for a while.

It was amazingly quiet. There was the occasional sound of laughter, a child crying in the distance, and here and there the odd call of a bird or scuttle of a vole.

Beside her Molly could feel Jack thinking—could almost hear the cogs turn. Maybe he didn’t know where to start. Maybe he needed help.

‘Tell me about Jan,’ she prompted gently.

Jack’s sigh was soft and full of regret. ‘Jan? She was stocky and feisty and loud, and Nick adored her. It was mutual—she thought the sun rose and set on him. They fell in love at sixteen, married at twenty, had Seb at twenty-three. His parents hated her—she was a little off the wall for their taste, and they never really trusted her. When Jan found out she was dying, they said they’d have the children. She couldn’t bear the idea, but she had no choice. Her own parents were dead; she couldn’t see another way.’

‘Until you suggested one.’

He looked down at his hands. ‘Nick had asked me, years ago, if I’d have their kids if anything happened to them. I was married then, they’d only had only Seb and Amy, and I said yes. Nick had it put in his will, but Jan thought everything had changed so much I wouldn’t have them—not all four. As I saw it, they needed me even more. I suggested we got married, and I adopted the children. It was what Nick would have wanted, and it gave Jan the security she needed to die in peace.’

‘And the children?’

‘Amy and Tom were OK, and Nicky was too tiny to know what was going on.’

‘And Seb?’

He sighed. ‘Seb thought it was awful. He couldn’t understand why they couldn’t go to his grandparents and he could look after them all there. He was twelve, too young to cope, too old to be told what to do without questioning it. And he didn’t like the thought of me touching his mother.’

‘And did you?’

He shot her a searching look. ‘Hardly. She was my best friend’s wife, a real one-man woman. She was dying of cancer. Of course I didn’t touch her. I didn’t want to. That wasn’t what it was about.’

Molly felt relief for a moment, but there was another question she and her foolish mouth just had to ask. ‘Did you love her?’

‘Yes. As a friend, as a wonderful mother to my godson, as an incredible and beautiful human being—yes, I loved her. As a woman—no. Not in that way. I never once looked at her and envied Nick anything but his relationship with her. That I would have given my eye teeth for, but Jan herself? No. She wasn’t my type. Does that answer your question?’

Her smile was wry. ‘I think so. And Nick’s parents—did they take it lying down?’

Jack laughed humourlessly. ‘You are joking. They went up the wall. They wanted the children, said they could cope. Now, they won’t even have them all at once for the weekend because they’re too much!’

‘And are they too much for you?’ she probed softly.

He chuckled and threw a little stone into the lake, watching the ripples spread. ‘Only most of the time. Sometimes—usually when they’re asleep—I can almost cope.’

She could hear the love and despair in his voice, and wanted to hug him. Instead she slid her hand over the mossy turf and threaded her fingers through his, squeezing silently.

‘I think you’re amazing taking them on,’ she said quietly. ‘Most men would have handed them over to their grandparents with a heartfelt sigh and legged it.’

‘Nick would have had mine,’ he said, and something in his voice said it all.

She wanted to cry for him. ‘He must have been a good friend.’

‘He was the best.’

His voice sounded raw and hurt, and his fingers tightened on hers. She returned the pressure, offering wordless comfort, and after a moment the pressure eased and he sighed. ‘It’s crazy, I still miss him.’

‘I’m sure you do.’ Her mind rambled on, dealing with the nitty-gritty, imagining life in his household—imagining a week-day morning in term-time, with everybody’s homework lost on the kitchen table, three lunches to get, Nicky to wash and dress, buses to catch—hideous. ‘It’s a good job you were already writing,’ she added. ‘You couldn’t have looked after the children if you’d been at work.’

‘I was at work. I gave up. Luckily my writing was just taking off and I was able to pull out of the force and just about manage to live on my earnings.’

She shifted a little, turning towards him. ‘But the children must be provided for—you don’t have to pay everything for them, do you?’

He shook his head. ‘No. There is a fund I can call on, but I’m trying not to. They’ll need it when they’re older. It’s their inheritance.’

He slipped his fingers out of hers and stood up, holding his hand out again to draw her to her feet. ‘Walk?’ he suggested, and she cast an anxious glance back at her cabin, where her children were sleeping.

The sun had set now, and the village was settling into darkness. She didn’t like leaving them, but she sensed Jack needed this time out from his brood. She nodded. ‘All right—but just a little way—not out of sight.’

‘OK.’

They strolled along the water’s edge, not talking, not quite touching, sharing a companionable silence. Every now and then one of them scuffed a little stone, and it would roll into the water and send a ripple out across the surface.

‘It’s so peaceful,’ Jack murmured.

‘Mmm.’ She looked across the lake to the village centre, a hub of activity even this late at night, and at the edge, beside the water, she could see a restaurant. Lights from it twinkled in the lake, and she could see the faint flickering glow of candles on the tables.

‘It looks very romantic,’ she said, and could have kicked herself for the wistful tone in her voice.

She needn’t have worried. Jack was looking at it just as wistfully. ‘It would be nice to have a meal there without the kids,’ he murmured. ‘How about it? Shall we share a babysitter, order the kids pizza and go and paint the town red?’

The thought was wonderful. ‘Sounds good,’ she replied, gazing across the water. ‘Do you suppose they do babysitters?’

‘I think so. We can ask tomorrow. What’s on your agenda?’

She laughed. ‘I have no idea. Babysitting Nicky while you’re doing man stuff with Seb, otherwise I don’t know. The kids are sailing again, I think, and I might have a totally lazy day or maybe go swimming.’

‘Sounds good. The paintball game is first thing—if you’re sure about Nicky?’

‘If she’ll come to me.’

‘She will. She’s used to it, bless her—and then, if we can, we’ll go out tomorrow night and try and remember how we misspent our youth!’

Molly laughed. ‘Speak for yourself. My youth was exemplary.’

‘High time you started living a little, then,’ he murmured, and his voice slithered down her spine like melted chocolate, leaving a shiver in its wake.

And Molly suddenly had the feeling that a quiet dinner a` deux in the candlelit restaurant by the lake might be a very foolish move indeed…

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