Two classic Westmoreland novels from New York Times bestselling author BRENDA JACKSON

QUADE’S BABIES

Quade Westmoreland’s one-night love affair with Cheyenne brands him body and soul, but he never even learns her last name. Almost a year later, driven by sensual memories and one incriminating photo, the sexy operative finally tracks her down—and discovers three little babies who look just like him. Learning he is a father makes Quade even more determined: he plans to claim Cheyenne Steele as his very own. Shockingly, the irresistible beauty seems intent on refusing him. But Cheyenne and their children are now part of the Westmoreland destiny, and Quade vows to fight for a future together.

TALL, DARK…WESTMORELAND!

She longs for a taste of the wild and reckless. And Olivia Jeffries gets her chance when she meets a handsome stranger at a masquerade ball. The attraction is instant, and the electricity is volatile. But days later she discovers that her new lover is none other than Reginald Westmoreland, her father’s most-hated rival. She vows to resist him, but Reggie is relentless in his pursuit. He will stop at nothing—not even blackmail—to get Olivia back in his bed…forever.

Flames of Attraction

Quade’s Babies

Tall, Dark…Westmoreland!

Brenda Jackson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

CONTENTS

Quade’s Babies

Tall, Dark…Westmoreland!

Dear Reader,

When I first introduced the Westmoreland family, little did I know they would become hugely popular with readers. Originally, the Westmoreland family series was intended to be just six books, Delaney and her five brothers—Dare, Thorn, Stone, Storm and Chase. Later, I wanted my readers to meet their cousins—Jared, Spencer, Durango, Ian, Quade and Reggie. Finally, there were Uncle Corey’s triplets—Clint, Cole and Casey.

What began as a six-book series blossomed into a thirty-book series when I included the Denver Westmorelands. I was very happy when Harlequin Kimani Arabesque responded to my readers’ requests that the earlier books be reprinted. And I’m even happier that the reissues are in a great two-books-in-one format.

Flames of Attraction contains “Quade’s Babies” and “Tall, Dark…Westmoreland!” These are two Westmoreland classics and are books #14 and #15 in the Westmoreland series. In “Quade’s Babies” I united my two popular families—the Westmorelands and the Steeles—in a story you don’t want to miss. And in “Tall, Dark…Westmoreland!” we find out how two people who shouldn’t have even been friends become lovers.

I hope you enjoy reading these special stories as much as I enjoyed writing them.

Happy reading!

Brenda Jackson

A man that hath friends must show himself friendly:

and there is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother.

— Proverbs 18:24

To the love of my life, Gerald Jackson, Sr.

My one and only. Always.

To everyone who enjoys reading about those

Westmorelands, this one is especially for you.

Quade’s Babies

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Epilogue

Chapter 1

“Sir, the plane is about ready to take off. Please shut down your laptop and fasten your seat belt.”

Quade Westmoreland followed the flight attendant’s instructions while thinking just how many times he’d heard such a request while flying aboard a commercial aircraft. Over the past eight years he had grown accustomed to the luxury of Air Force One where using a laptop during takeoff was not only welcomed but necessary.

He glanced around. At least he was in first class, which wasn’t a bad deal, and no one was sitting in the seat beside him, which made things even better. He didn’t like the feel of being crowded or cramped. He liked having his space. That was the reason he’d enjoyed his job with the PSF, Presidential Security Forces, dual branches of the Secret Service and CIA.

But if the truth be known—and there were only a few key individuals who actually knew the truth—his particular position entailed a lot more than protecting the president. After the terrorist attacks of 9/11, the PSF was created and he’d become a part of the elite team. His job was to keep tabs on the president’s travels abroad and make sure everything associated with the trips, especially the security, was dealt with prior to the president’s visit. It was his responsibility to protect the commander-in-chief from behind the scenes at all cost.

That was the reason he had been in Sharm al-Sheikh, Egypt, the night he had met Cheyenne Steele.

Cheyenne Steele.

Just thinking about her brought an automatic tightening in his chest, as well as a stirring in another part of his body. The woman had gotten that sort of response from him from the first time he had encountered her that night walking on the beach. He had actually felt her presence before seeing her. And when he had gazed into her face, a deep physical attraction had unleashed fierce desire in him, a degree to which he had never felt toward any other woman in all his thirty-six years. It had been hot. Unexplainable. And luckily for him, the attraction had been mutual.

It didn’t take long to discover that she was just as physically attracted to him as he was to her, and after a few brief moments of small talk, she accepted his offer to share a drink...in his hotel room.

Although he had known she would be safe with him, he had initially questioned her decision until they’d gotten up to his room. Before going inside with him she had made a smart move by using her cell phone to contact the female friend she was traveling with to let her know where she would be; specifically which room and at which hotel on the beach.

Cheyenne was the only part of her name she had exchanged with him that night and, considering how they’d met and the activities that had followed afterward, he hadn’t been sure if Cheyenne had even been her real name. She had been pretty secretive, but then so had he. And like her, he had only shared his first name.

He had constantly thought about her since that night and then a few days ago, while visiting his relatives in Montana, he had seen her face on the cover of a magazine. And it was pretty damn obvious that she was pregnant.

In fact, she looked ready to deliver at any moment. Since the magazine had been October’s issue and it was now the first of December, a million questions had been going through his mind. The first of which was whether or not he was the man responsible for her condition.

They had used protection that night, but he would be the first to admit his passion for her, his desire to mate with her, had been uncontrollable. And somewhere in the back of his mind he seemed to recall at least one of the times in which there had not been a barrier. Whether it was true or just a figment of his imagination, he wasn’t certain. Even if he had used a condom each time they had made love, condoms weren’t without flaws, and when you made love as many times as they had, anything was possible. Even an unplanned pregnancy.

She was the only one who could put his mind to rest by telling him whether or not the child—which should have been born by now—was his. If it wasn’t, she must have slept with someone else around the same time she had slept with him. That was something he didn’t want to think about. And if the child was his, he would do the right thing—the only thing a Westmoreland could do if they were foolish enough to get caught in such a situation. He would ask her to marry him to give their child his name. After a reasonable amount of time they could file for a divorce and part ways.

He could tolerate a short-term wife if he had to. He had recently retired and was about to embark on another career. He had joined a partnership with a few of his cousins to open a chain of security offices around the country.

He refused to be reminded that a marriage of convenience was how things had started out between his brother Durango and his wife, Savannah, and that they were now a happily married couple. Quade was glad things worked out the way they had for them; however, the situation with him and Cheyenne was different.

Durango had fallen hard for Savannah from the first time he had seen her at their cousin Chase’s wedding. But it had been lust and only lust that had driven his desire for Cheyenne that night. If it had been more than that, he would have taken the time to get to know her. He’d only had one goal in mind after meeting Cheyenne and that was finding a way to get her into his bed.

One of the downsides of his former job was the long periods he’d had to put his social life on hold. It had been during one of those times, when his testosterone had been totally out of whack, that he met Cheyenne. He’d gone a long time without a woman and Cheyenne had been a prime target for a one-night stand.

But he hadn’t meant to get her pregnant if that’s what he’d actually done. So here he was on his way to Charlotte, North Carolina, to find out if he was the father of her baby. He had contacted the ad agency and discovered not only that Cheyenne was her real name, but that she was also a model, which was the reason she had been on the cover of that magazine. He shouldn’t have been surprised to learn of her profession since she had to have been the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. On the cover of that magazine with her pregnancy proudly displayed for the camera, she had still looked radiant and breathtakingly beautiful.

Quade felt the plane tilt upward as it took off. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, deciding now was a perfect time to relive those long and passionate hours he had spent in bed with Cheyenne nearly ten months ago.

* * *

Quade felt hot, edgy and he couldn’t sleep.

Muttering a curse, he eased out of bed and looked around the hotel room.

The president was to arrive in two days and Quade and his men had checked out everything, especially the route the motorcade would be taking. There had been rumblings of a planned protest, but a spokesman for the Egyptian government had contacted him earlier to say the matter had been taken care of.

He wondered if the bar downstairs was still open. He could definitely use a drink to take the edge off. For some reason this place and sleeping alone in this bed was reminding him just how long it had been since he’d had any sort of intimate physical contact with a woman. Too long.

Instead of getting a drink, Quade decided to take a walk on the beach. He eased into a pair of jeans and pulled a T-shirt over his head. After sliding his feet into a pair of sandals he checked the clock on the nightstand. It was almost one in the morning.

As he left his room, closing the door shut behind him, he thought about the phone conversation he’d had with his mother earlier. She had surprised the hell out of him by saying his cousin Clint had gotten married.

He had just seen his cousin a few months before at his brother Spencer’s wedding. They had talked. Clint had been excited. He had just retired as a Texas Ranger to become a partner with Durango and a childhood friend, McKinnon Quinn, in their horse-breeding business. Not once had Clint mentioned anything about a woman. And now he was married? There had to be more to it than the romantic tale his mother had weaved.

Within no time at all Quade had caught the designated elevator, the one that would take him six levels down to a patio that led to the beach. Most of the hotel was empty. The majority of the rooms were already reserved for the president’s visit. The first lady would be present on this trip, along with a number of other dignitaries. The visit would last three days and Quade would be working nonstop behind the scenes the entire time.

He inhaled deeply as the scent of the ocean filled his nostrils, and after taking a few steps his sandals hit the soft sand, making him feel as if he was walking on marshmallows. Sharm al-Sheikh was a beautiful place, a developed tourist resort on the Sinai Peninsula that catered to the rich and famous. Even in the moonlit night, he could make out the large five-star hotels that dotted the shoreline.

A number of his men had made plans to hang around after the president’s visit to relax and unwind. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be one of them. He had promised his mother that he would be returning to the States in time to make an appearance at the christening of his cousin Thorn’s son.

Quade had to admit that he always looked forward to returning home to Atlanta whenever he could. The Westmorelands were a large group and getting even larger with all the recent marriages and births. And then there was the possibility that they might find even more Westmorelands if the genealogy search his father was conducting proved out. It seemed that their great-grandfather had a twin everyone assumed had died while in his early twenties. It appeared the black sheep Raphel Westmoreland, who had run off with a still-married preacher’s wife at the age of 22, was still alive. Both Quade’s father and his father’s twin brother, James, were eager to find any descendants of their long, lost wife-stealing, great-granduncle Raphel.

Quade had been walking near the shoreline for a few moments when suddenly he felt an intense yearning in the pit of his stomach, an incredible ache that ran through his body.

He stopped walking as his gaze took in the stretch of beach in his path. It was dark and he could barely see, because a haze had covered the earth in front of him, some sort of low-hanging cloud. He took a cautious glance around him as the ache got more profound. And then seconds later, a woman appeared out of the mist.

She was absolutely the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

He blinked to make sure his mind and his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. His gaze traveled down the length of her body, taking in her white linen pant set and the mass of dark, luxurious hair that flowed recklessly around her shoulders and cascaded around her face. He felt his body respond to her presence. He tried to get his breathing back to normal while at the same time wondering what was going on with him. Why was he reacting to her this way?

She had seen him at the same time he had seen her and he watched her reaction. By the look in her dark eyes, she was feeling whatever it was that he was feeling. It had her in the same intense sexual grip. He could sense it. Just like he could sense the pull he felt toward her, specifically her mouth. She had the kind of lips that made you want to do naughty things to them, lick them, taste them forever. They had a shape just for kissing and were the kind that any man’s tongue would want to wet and tease.

“You’re out rather late, aren’t you?” he heard himself asking, feeling the need to say something before he was forced to do something he would later regret. He was known as a man with iron-clad control, but you wouldn’t know it now. He was being reduced to melted steel.

“I could say the same for you,” she said. Her accent told Quade she was an American. Before now, he hadn’t been sure. The sound of her voice was soft and seductive. But he had a feeling it wasn’t intentionally so. It probably couldn’t be helped since it went with the rest of the alluring package she presented. Was she someone he should know, a movie star perhaps?

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said.

Then he saw the lift of her shoulders, and noted the way the soft material of her blouse draped around them, showing a nice cleavage with uplifted and firm breasts pressing against her blouse. He also saw her smile and his stomach clenched and his throat tightened.

“Some nights aren’t meant for sleeping. This could be one of them,” she said, her voice stirring the unbridled lust that was flowing through his veins.

Her response made him consider the possibility that she could very well be coming on to him. If she was, then she had done so at a time when he was ripe for the picking. Normally, he didn’t pick up women, no matter how tempting they were. He had a list of his usual partners back in D.C. who knew the score. He didn’t have time for serious relationships and the women he bedded knew it and accepted it. There wasn’t a woman alive who could make a claim for Quade Westmoreland, in no shape, form or fashion.

He sighed ruefully, wondering how she would handle the question he was about to ask her. “I’m Quade. Would you like to go up to my room for a drink?”

She took a step closer, stared at him as if studying the outline of his face in the moonlight. And then her gaze shifted and scanned the full length of his body and the dark gaze that finally slid back to his eyes nearly took his breath away for the second time that night.

“And I’m Cheyenne,” she finally said, offering him her hand. “And I would love joining you for a drink.”

The moment their hands touched Quade felt it all the way to his toes. His eyebrows snapped together in confusion and he wondered why he was behaving like a man desperate to get laid. A man without any control or willpower. A man whose needs were being exposed. And frankly he didn’t care too much for the thought of being that way. He needed to take a step back or knock some sense into his head.

Instead, still holding her hand, he leaned closer to her, inhaled her scent. “Let’s go now,” he said, hoping and praying she wouldn’t change her mind. “I’m staying at the Bayleaf,” he added as they moved in the direction of his hotel.

He held her hand as she walked beside him. At first they said nothing and then she said,“This isn’t common behavior for me.”

He glanced over at her. “What isn’t?” he asked, deciding to pretend he had no idea what she was talking about.

“Following any man this way.”

He slowed his pace. “Then why are you now?”

He studied her features. Saw the confusion in her eyes and knew she was just as baffled as to what was taking place between them as he was. “I don’t know. I just feel this strange connection between us. It’s like I know you when I really don’t. For heaven’s sake, I just met you barely five minutes ago.”

“I understand,” he said, and really, he did. He actually understood because he felt the same way, although he hadn’t a clue as to why. And for the moment maybe it was just as well. All he knew was that he wanted her in a way he’d never wanted another woman. It seemed his level-headed nature was being placed on the back burner, falling victim to a need he couldn’t describe. It was a need that was taking over his senses.

“And what brings you to Egypt?”

Her question, spoken in a soft voice, sent a quiver through him. There was no way he could tell her the real reason he was there. No one, not even his family, knew the full extent of what he did for a living.

He glanced over at her. “Mainly business. What about you?”

She met his gaze. Held it. “Business, as well.”

He wasn’t sure if she was telling the truth and a part of him figured she wasn’t. However, he wouldn’t lose any sleep over the fact that she wanted to keep secrets since he was keeping a few, too.

Suddenly it dawned on him that there was one question that he had to ask her. He stopped walking and she automatically stopped beside him and met his gaze with questions in her eyes.

“I see you aren’t wearing a ring, but nowadays that doesn’t mean anything, so I think I should ask anyway just to be sure. Are you married?”

There was something about the look that appeared on her face that let him know what her response would be even before she spoke. “No, I’m not married. Are you?”

“No.”

She nodded, and he knew at that moment that she believed him. It was hard to accept that she could trust him so easily when he always found trusting others outside of his family and inner circle of friends nearly impossible.

He saw that the patio where the elevator was located was only a few feet away. He glanced out at the ocean and knew she followed his gaze. There was a soft breeze flowing, a seductive breeze, and there was something about how the waves were hitting against the shore that was blatantly sensual.

He looked back at her and felt a frisson of heat flowing through his veins. Her hands, the ones he was still holding, felt warm. He gave her features a good assessment, letting his gaze scan her face in detail. They were now standing in a lit area and he could see more of her. Everything. Her perfectly shaped eyebrows, high cheekbones and mussed hair made her look even sexier.

Then there were those dark eyes that returned his gaze, while acting as a magnetic force, pulling him in as he continued to look at her in silent consideration. She was younger that he originally thought. “How old are you?” he heard himself ask.

He could tell she hadn’t liked his question and watched as she squared her shoulders. “I’m twenty-eight. How old are you?”

He continued to hold her gaze and felt the smile that played around his mouth when he said, “Thirty-six.”

She nodded. “That’s a nice age.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “In terms of what?”

“In terms of being a man who knows what he wants.”

She was so right. In fact, he wanted to make her aware of just how right she was. Deciding it was time to be serious, he tightened his hold on her hand and gently pulled her closer, pressing her soft body against the hardness of his. He wanted her to feel just what she did to him. Just how much he wanted her. How aroused he was. And he knew the exact moment she did know.

Quade saw the glint of full awareness in her gaze and watched her nervously lick her lips with the tip of her tongue. He was suddenly hit with an urge to kiss her, to taste her lips.

He lowered his head and like a magnet, her lips were pulled toward his. Then slowly their mouths connected and the moment they did so a deep throb of intense hunger and desire shot to every part of his body. That iron-clad will that he was known for slowly began dissolving as he took hold of her tongue and began mating with it, deepening the kiss, hungrily tasting every area of her mouth, leaving no part untouched. He heard her moan and likewise, he moaned, too.

He couldn’t break the kiss, couldn’t stop his mouth from devouring her in a way he had never done any woman. It was as if the taste of her was something he needed, an element he had to have. And it didn’t help matters that she was so responsive. Passionate. Desirable.

Although he could have stood there and kissed her forever, he knew more than anything that he wanted to escalate things to the next level. His mind was filled with the thought of pure pleasure. His body was attuned to the need for sex. But then he also felt something else, something he couldn’t put a name to that made a warning to be cautious that clamored through his head more profound. But it wasn’t any match for the feelings of need overtaking him.

Reluctantly, he pulled his mouth free and watched as she inhaled a deep, shaky breath. He watched further as she closed her eyes as if fighting for composure, some semblance of poise and control. He wanted none of that.

“Are you sure you want to go inside with me?” he asked, when she reopened her eyes. He released her hand, needing her to be certain. He knew what would happen once they got to his room.

He held her eyes and, in a way, almost dared her to break the contact. She didn’t. Instead, she reached up and looped her arms around his neck and brought her mouth within a heated breath of his.

“Yes,” she said after a moment while holding tight to his gaze. “Yes, I’m sure.”

And then leaning up on tiptoe, she joined their mouths once again.

Chapter 2

“Cheyenne, will you please stop being so stubborn and difficult.”

Cheyenne Steele rolled her eyes upward. Leave it to her two sisters, Vanessa and Taylor, to try to gang up on her, while trying to convince her to think their way. Any other time she would have conceded, just to be left alone. But not this time. Although she was still considered the baby in the family, now she had a baby of her own. No, she quickly corrected, she had babies of her own. Three of them.

It still amazed her that nearly eight weeks ago she had given birth to triplets. Her doctor had suspected the possibility of multiple births early, and the sonogram she’d taken by her third month had confirmed his suspicions. She had been shocked. The Steele family overjoyed. And she had let them convince her that she needed to come home to North Carolina to be around family when the time came for her to deliver.

The main reason she had agreed was because she had wanted her babies born in the United States instead of Jamaica where she had been living for the last three years. As a professional model she moved from place to place, and one day while on a photo shoot in Jamaica, she had stumbled across what she considered her dream home and hadn’t wasted any time purchasing it.

The problem her sisters were having was her announcement at dinner today that once the doctors had given the okay for the triplets to travel, she would be returning home to Jamaica. She was hoping that would be the first of the year.

“Be realistic, Cheyenne,” her sister Taylor was saying. “Handling one baby isn’t easy and you have three. You’re going to need help.”

Cheyenne frowned. The problem she had with her family was the same one she’d always had. Being the youngest of the three daughters, no one wanted to acknowledge her capabilities. That was why she had left home after graduating from high school to attend Boston University and only returned for visits. On the advice of Taylor, who was the financial advisor in the family, she had purchased a home in Charlotte a few years ago as an investment. That purchase made it possible whenever she did come home for extended visits for her to have a private place to stay.

“And I will have help,” she said as she opened the refrigerator to pull out the salad she had made earlier. “My housekeeper will be there and I’ve hired a nanny for the babies to assist me.”

“But it’s not the same as having your family close by,” Vanessa replied.

Cheyenne closed the refrigerator door and then leaned against it. She studied the two women who were putting up a fierce argument as to why she and her babies shouldn’t return to Jamaica. Her sisters were beautiful, both inside and out, and although they were getting on her last nerve, they were the best sisters a girl could have.

Vanessa, the oldest at twenty-eight, was the one who after getting a graduate degree at Tennessee State had returned home to Charlotte to work at the family’s multimillion-dollar manufacturing company alongside their four male cousins—Chance, Sebastian, Morgan and Donovan. In June, Vanessa had married a wonderful and handsome man by the name of Cameron Cody.

Taylor was the second oldest at twenty-six. Taylor had chosen not to return to Charlotte after college to work for the family’s company. Instead, Taylor had set her sights on New York after accepting a position with a major bank as a wealth and asset manager. Taylor was also married to a wonderful and handsome man named Dominic Saxon and the two were expecting their first child in a few weeks. Taylor and Dominic made Washington, D.C., their primary home, although they traveled quite a bit.

“You guys know how I feel about the two of you trying to mother me. I wish you wouldn’t do it,” she said, and immediately saw the guilt on their faces. Although she knew they only wanted what was the best for her, they were breaking a promise they had made on her twenty-first birthday, which was to let her live her life, regardless of the mistakes she would make along the way. They had pretty much kept that promise...until now.

“I know taking care of three babies won’t be easy,” she said. “But I’m determined to do it. Thanks to you, Taylor, I have enough money not to work for the next eight months or longer if I have to. The modeling agency knows my plans and is giving me the time I need. Besides, it’s not like me and the kids won’t come back for frequent visits. And I promised not to leave before your baby arrives, Taylor, so the two of you can relax. I don’t plan to sneak off during the night.”

She saw the reluctant smiles that touched their faces. Then Vanessa spoke and said, “I’m going to miss my nephew and nieces. I’ve gotten so attached to them.”

“Then I expect that you’ll come visit us often. Since Cameron purchased that house next door to mine, it sure makes things convenient.”

Vanessa laughed and shook her head. “Yes, it does.”

Cheyenne then stared at her other sister and figured something else was on Taylor’s mind. Typically, Taylor was the one known to stay out of everyone else’s business, mainly because she had this thing about anyone getting into hers. But lately, and seemingly with a lot of frequency, Taylor tended to ask questions that no one, not even their mother or male cousins or Vanessa—who sometimes acted as if it was her God-given right to know everything—would dare ask. Cheyenne had a feeling what was on Taylor’s mind and it wouldn’t be the first time during the past ten months that she had asked.

“Okay, go ahead and ask me, Taylor.”

Taylor frowned while absently rubbing her stomach. “Why? So you can tell me it’s none of my business again?”

“Umm, go ahead and ask. I might surprise you this time.”

She saw the doubtful look on Taylor’s face, but she knew Taylor wouldn’t be able to resist. “Okay, I want to know who fathered my two beautiful nieces and my very handsome nephew.”

Cheyenne closed her eyes briefly and could see the face of the man just as clearly as if he was standing right there in front of her. His facial features were embedded deep into her memory and would always stay there. And she had a feeling her son would be a constant reminder of him. Although her daughters had inherited a lot of Cheyenne’s mother’s Native American ancestry—exotic features like high cheekbones and an abundance of thick straight-looking black hair—her son favored his father. She had thought that very thing the moment he had been placed in her arms. He had his father’s dark eyes with the slanted eyebrows and the full nose and what already appeared to be a stubborn chin. But what she noticed immediately was the shape of her son’s mouth. It definitely belonged to his father. She, of all people, should know after the countless times during that one single night she had plastered hers to it. There had been no doubt in her mind on that particular night, just as there weren’t any now, that Quade had to have been the most handsome man she’d ever met. And his maturity had set him apart. He hadn’t played any games with her, but she had with him...at least at first.

She had lied to him about her age, stating she was twenty-eight instead of twenty-three. She’d feared that, had she been truthful, he would have walked away from her that night and there was no way she could let him do that. She had been attracted to him in a way she had never been to anyone else and she had wanted to explore what such a deep attraction meant.

“Cheyenne?”

Her eyes snapped open to find her two sisters staring at her. “Okay, his name is Quade and I met him on a beach in Egypt. It was a one-night fling.” She saw the latter statement didn’t seem to shock her sisters, possibly because they may have done the same thing at some time during their lifetime.

“And what’s this Quade’s last name,” Vanessa asked, staring at her over her glass of cranberry juice.

Cheyenne hunched her shoulders. “Don’t know. We were more interested in getting into each other’s bodies than we were last names.”

Neither of her sisters said anything at first and then Taylor asked, “And you’re sure he wasn’t married?”

Cheyenne inhaled deeply. “He said he wasn’t, but I wasn’t completely truthful about everything with him, so he might have fibbed a little about one or two things with me. However, I believe he was telling the truth about not being married.”

Vanessa raised a brow. “And just what did you lie about?” she asked.

Cheyenne moved away from the refrigerator and crossed the kitchen to the cabinet over the sink to pull out her teapot. “My age,” she said, turning back around to face her sisters, wanting to see their expressions when she answered. “I told him I was twenty-eight instead of twenty-three.” She saw the tightening of both of their features.

“And you think he believed it?” Taylor asked.

“Yes, on that particular night I’d gone for a walk on the beach after a long day of doing a photo shoot. My makeup was still on, which probably made me look a little older.”

Vanessa snorted and rolled her eyes. “Or he figured you were ripe for the picking and didn’t even care.”

Cheyenne laughed softly and said, “If he figured that, then he was absolutely right. I saw him and wanted him just as much as he wanted me.”

She couldn’t help but remember that night. Every single detail was burned into her memory. Never in her life had she desired a man as much as she had him, and on first sight. Her attraction had been immediate, her surrender had been ultimate and the ten hours that followed had been breathtaking, absolutely the best hours she had spent in any man’s bed. And although her experience was limited compared to some women, with those she could compare the difference was beyond measure. Quade had made her beg, scream and become a captive to passion of the most intense kind. She had literally been at his mercy the entire night.

“Cheyenne?”

It was only then that she realized that one of her sisters had been trying to get her attention. “What?”

“I know I asked you this before; it was during the time you were in your seventh or eighth month, and I inquired whether or not you felt you should try and find this guy and you said no. Have you changed your mind about that?” Vanessa asked.

“No,” Cheyenne said, shaking her head. “It was a one-night stand and he didn’t expect anything out of it, except what he got...what we both got that night—extreme pleasure. I don’t blame him for getting me pregnant. He used a condom each time. I saw it. I guess one must have malfunctioned.”

Taylor chuckled. “I think that’s an understatement, don’t you? Must have been one hell of a night to produce triplets.”

“It was.” She crossed the room to stand in front of them. “I finally got Mom to go home after convincing her I could handle things on my own tonight, and now I want the two of you to do the same. Dinner was great and I appreciate the two of you joining me, but I want to get some rest before the babies wake up. They’re still sleeping and if they stay on schedule, I’ll only have the six o’clock feeding to deal with.”

“But what if they want to eat at the same time?” Vanessa asked, seemingly alarmed at the thought of her sister caring for the babies alone. Someone had been there with her on a rotating basis since she and the babies had come home from the hospital. Even the wives of Chance, Sebastian and Morgan, had taken turns. Both Sebastian’s and Morgan’s wives, Jocelyn and Lena, were expecting and used the same excuse Taylor had—they were getting some practice time in.

“If that happens, then two of them will have to wait their turn. They have to start accepting the routine sometime,” Cheyenne said with a smile. The one thing she was blessed with was the fact that at least her daughters had begun sleeping through the night. Her son, however, was another story.

“Come on, Taylor, let’s leave since she’s determined to get rid of us,” Vanessa said with a laugh. She helped a very pregnant Taylor out of the kitchen and through the living room.

“Only so I can get some sleep,” Cheyenne said. “Besides, if I keep either of you here any longer, your hubbies will come looking for you.”

All three of them knew that was true. Because Vanessa’s husband traveled a lot, whenever he was home Cameron rarely let her out of his sight. And since Taylor’s baby was due the first week in January, her husband, Dominic, also kept her on a tight rein.

After her sisters had left, Cheyenne went into the nursery to check on her babies. Each was in a crib and the room had been beautifully decorated with a Noah’s ark theme, compliments of Sienna Bradford, an interior decorator who was also Vanessa’s best friend since grade school. Sienna, who had given birth to a beautiful baby boy last year, had offered to decorate the nursery.

Cheyenne’s announcement that she would be having triplets had sent excitement spreading through the Steele family, since there was no record of multiple births in the family. More than once Cheyenne had wondered about her babies’ father. Did he have a history of multiple births in his family?

The doctor had asked her a number of questions about the man who had fathered her babies, and she hadn’t been able to answer any of them. It probably hadn’t taken her doctor long to determine she had gotten pregnant by a man she hadn’t known for long.

Stealing a few quiet moments while the babies slept, she decided to stretch out on the sofa instead of on the bed. Cheyenne kicked off her shoes to lie down, feeling confident she could handle things just like she had told her mother and sisters. The baby monitor was sitting on the coffee table and would alert her when they awakened.

She had spoken with Roz Henry, her agent and good friend. Roz had fully understood Cheyenne’s decision to put her modeling career on hold for a while until the babies got older. Right now the thought of leaving them with anyone while she traveled didn’t sit well with her; and she just couldn’t see having their nanny travel with her just to take care of the babies. She wanted to be a stay-at-home mom for at least two years, and with her wise investments she would have no problem doing so.

The house was quiet and Cheyenne felt her eyelids getting heavy. Today had been laundry day. She had washed the babies’ laundry earlier and would fold it later. Her mother had encouraged her to get out and do something while volunteering to stay there and watch the babies. Taking her mother up on her offer, Cheyenne had gone to the hair salon and had planned to pay a visit to a nail salon, as well, but she had begun missing her babies and had rushed back home.

Cheyenne’s eyes drifted closed and automatically she thought about her babies’ father.

“Quade.”

It was an unusual name and she couldn’t help wondering if it was real. Whether it was real was not important now, but it could possibly be later when her children grew up and asked about their father. What on earth would she tell them?

The truth, her mind suddenly interjected. She would tell them the truth and would even assist them in finding him one day if that’s what they wanted to do. With only a first name to go by it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack, but she was certain even with the limited information she had, the man could be found eventually. While pregnant she had even entertained the idea of hiring a private investigator to locate him, but she had to consider the possibility that given her circumstances, he might not want to be found. Not every man relished the thought of being a father, and he was one three times over.

Thinking of Quade made her want to relive that night and her mind automatically went back in time, to a night that had changed her life forever.

* * *

He pulled her into his arms the moment they entered his hotel room and closed the door behind them, locking it. He took her mouth, thrusting his tongue inside while tangling his hand in her hair to kiss her deeply, even more so than those other two kisses they had shared on the beach.

She eagerly returned the kiss, thinking he was very proficient. He had a skill that almost brought her to her knees. When she was convinced she would melt in his arms, he broke off the kiss, took a step back and, with his gaze holding steadfast to hers, he eased down the zipper to his jeans.

She watched him remove his jeans, treating her to a strip show, the likes of which she had never seen before. He removed every piece of clothing except for a pair of black boxers. Sexy was too mild a word to describe how he looked at that moment. Tempting wouldn’t even do justice. He had broad, masculine shoulders and a taut, firm stomach. What caught her attention was all the thick, curly hair on his chest that extended down his stomach and tapered in a lush line down past the waistband of his boxers. She wanted to reach out and feel her way through the hairs on his chest before following the path downward.

And when he eased his boxers down his legs, that part of him that had been straining against them sprang free, making her eyes widen to see its size.

She swallowed as she stared at him. Entranced. Never before had any man looked more beautiful, so stunning, so blood-thickeningly gorgeous. He didn’t seem to have a problem standing there naked and fully aroused in front of her.

“Now for your clothes,” he said, making her fully aware of what he expected her to do. In fact, he backed up a few more steps to sit on the edge of the bed to watch. The way he stared at her made her nervous, but not in an uncomfortable way. It was the type of nervousness that intensified the nerve endings in her body and made her even more aware of him as a man. Because of her profession she was used to getting in and out of her clothes rather quickly, but never had she done so for an audience or more specifically, for one man. The thought of doing so for him sent an unexplainable thrill of excitement through her.

Feeling bold, brazen and downright hot, she held his gaze while taking off her blouse and heard his sharp intake of breath and watched his eyes darken when he saw she was not wearing a bra. She had been complimented on the shape and size of her breasts many times, especially by other models. They were the kind of breasts that women tried to imitate with enhancements. She was proud hers were natural.

She kicked off her sandals and then slithered out of her pants, working them down her thighs, knowing that he was watching her every move. She was left with one remaining piece—her underwear—a barely there thong that didn’t leave anything to his imagination. Everything was basically there, exposed, right before his eyes, and for some reason she didn’t feel uncomfortable when his gaze shifted to latch on to her feminine core with an intensity that heated her skin all over.

“Come here, Cheyenne.”

He said her name with a huskiness that she felt all the way to the bones and the look in his eyes made her realize even more so just how much he wanted her and how much she wanted him. Her feminine side longed for a connection with him in the most intimate way.

A sexy smile touched his lips as he held his hand out to her. On bare feet she slowly crossed the room and he widened his legs so that she could stand between them. He then pulled her close to bury his face in her chest, right in the center of her breasts, and inhaled her scent. And then she felt it, the wet flick of the tip of his tongue against her nipple. She felt the heat of desire when he closed his mouth over it, latching on to it and sucking it like a newborn baby. A ripple of sensations tore into her, hot and intense, and she automatically reached out and caught hold of his shoulders to keep from falling.

The greedy way his mouth was devouring her breasts made her throw her head back and release the breath she’d been holding. He continued to suck on her nipples with an intensity that made all kind of pleasure points gather in the area between her legs. She felt herself getting wet in the center and just when she thought she couldn’t handle any more, she felt his hand lower to that area. And when he touched her there, heat radiated from deep inside as he stroked her.

Her legs parted wider for him, giving him access to anything and everything he wanted, and his fingers entered her and began to explore her sensitive flesh. He first stroked with mild, featherlike caresses to get her comfortable with the invasion, and then with heated strokes that elicited groans of pleasure from her.

Nothing or no man had ever made her feel this way before. Her entire body felt achy with need. And if anyone had told her she would be in the hotel room with a man she had just met on the beach, she would never have believed them.

She knew, given her profession, most people would find it hard to believe that when it came to sex she barely had any experience. There was that one guy in college and another she had fancied herself in love with while working in Philly as a television reporter. But when it came to the bedroom, neither had known a thing about sharing. It had been all about them fulfilling their own selfish needs.

Quade was the first man she had been intimate with in four years. It hadn’t been a conscious effort on her part to abstain. Things had just worked out that way.

But this was different. She had been intensely attracted to him from the first, so intensely attracted that she could see herself making love with him right there on the beach if he had wanted it that way.

Suddenly he pulled back, removed his hand from inside her and she felt an immediate sense of loss. She met his gaze, stared as deeply into his eyes as he was staring into hers and watched as he inserted the finger that had been inside of her into his mouth, licking it like it was a lollipop of his favorite flavor, and letting her know how much he was savoring her taste. Seeing what he was doing made the muscles between her legs clench, stoked her desires into a feverish heat.

He stood and she felt herself being lifted into his arms and placed on the bed. He leaned over and caught his hand in the waistband of her thong and then slowly eased it down her legs. Instead of tossing it aside he brought the thong to his nose and inhaled deeply, as if he needed to know her intimate scent. She was at a loss to do anything, but stare at him.

And while she lay there naked, her entire body exposed before his eyes, for his pleasure, he moved his hand upward from the bottom of her feet, then pausing at her center, zeroing in on her feminine mound as if the sight of it fascinated him. Her breath caught when he began stroking between her legs before sliding another finger inside her again, testing her wetness, making her moan out loud.

“Quade.” She said his name, a deep moan from her mouth. “I need you.” And at that point she did. Every cell in her body was vibrating with that need.

“I’m going to take care of you, I promise,” he said while he continued to stroke her, building tension inside her. “But if I don’t taste you now I’m going to go mad.”

She caught her breath, almost held it when he slid down on the bed and placed a warm kiss on her stomach before arranging her legs over his shoulder, bringing him face-to-face with her feminine mound. He was so close she could feel his heated breath on the swollen lips of her femininity. She closed her eyes and let out a deep groan the moment she felt his heated tongue on her flesh, and then he pushed that tongue deeper inside her and began moving it around in firm, hard strokes, then pushing in deeper, withdrawing then inserting it back in deeper and deeper again, over and over.

She soon discovered he was methodical and intense with his kisses no matter where he placed them. Holding tight to her hips with his mouth locked on her, he was using his tongue in ways she didn’t know it could be used, taking it places she hadn’t known it could go and giving her the most intimate French kiss possible while greedily feasting on her.

She screamed when a climax hit with the intensity of a train derailment. She felt her body break into tiny pieces filling her with a degree of pleasure she had never felt in her life.

She felt him leave her momentarily, watched through a heated gaze as he reached into the pocket of his jeans to pull out a condom. She watched him sheath himself before rejoining her on the bed and settling between her trembling thighs where the aftershock of a gigantic orgasm still lingered.

He leaned down and kissed her and she could taste the essence of herself on his lips, and then she felt him, the head of his hard and thick manhood pressing at her wet center. She craved the contact, was almost desperate for the connection, and was consumed with an abundance of heat that was generated by his desire for her and hers for him. He was building a need within her, one that made her feminine core throb. And as if he felt her need, he pulled back from the kiss, met her gaze to see her expression and reaction when he slowly began entering her.

Their gazes continued to hold, stayed connected as he began penetrating her deep, stretching her wide, filling her with the very essence of him. She was extremely tight and for a moment she read the question in his eyes and decided to respond before he could ask.

“No. It’s just been a long time for me,” she explained. She hoped her words had sufficiently removed any inkling that she was a virgin.

“Then tonight we’ll make up for lost time,” he said huskily, slowly pressing deeper inside her, filling her to capacity.

“We’re perfect together,” he said, and it was then that she realized just how deeply embedded inside her he was. All the way to the hilt. Their bodies were joined as tightly as any two bodies could be. They just lay there, him on top of her, inside her, while they stared at each other, taking in just what that moment meant and contemplating what would be the next move.

“I’m going slow to make it last,” he whispered just seconds before he began moving. Flexing his hips, he ground his hard masculine thighs against hers for deeper penetration with each stroke into her, lifting her hips up with the palm of his hands and locking her to him to fill her even deeper.

He started off with slow, even strokes, just like he said he would do. Then the tempo changed, the rhythm was switched and he began riding her faster and with more intensity, with an even deeper penetration. He threw his head back and a guttural groan escaped from deep within his throat. Her body was in tune with his, with every stroke, and she felt sensations filling her, taking over her, setting off another explosion inside of her.

She sank her nails into his shoulder, screamed his name when everything was ripped out of her, igniting every nerve ending, every single cell. She could feel every strand of hair on her head, every intimate muscle clench him, pulling everything out of him as he kept going, thrusting into her with an intensity that brought on another climax. She screamed his name again at the same time he screamed hers. And she felt him shudder inside of her, actually felt the condom expand under the weight of his release.

It took awhile for the sensations to begin to fade. He leaned forward and kissed her, thrusting his tongue back and forth into her mouth the same way he had done to her feminine core earlier and making her come again just that easy. Never in her life had she enjoyed such pure pleasure—such deep, piercing satisfaction.

Moments later after he released her mouth she pulled in another breath as she felt limp, lifeless, completely satiated. And then Quade lifted up slightly, raised his head to meet her gaze. At that moment something touched her deep. Then he slowly lowered his head as his fingers caressed her cheek and seconds later he was kissing her again, a lot gentler this time, while whispering that he hadn’t gotten enough and wanted more.

She couldn’t help but inwardly admit that she hadn’t gotten enough and wanted him again, as well. She could tell from the feel of him getting hard inside her all over again that what they shared was only the beginning....

* * *

The ringing of the doorbell interrupted Cheyenne’s dream. She opened her eyes, a little annoyed at the intrusion. Standing, she stretched her body trying to fight off the lingering sensual sensations of her dream. When the doorbell sounded again she quickly moved to the door. The last thing she wanted was for her babies to wake from their nap. More than likely her visitor was one of her male cousins who periodically dropped by to make sure she was okay. She had to admit they were thoughtful and always had been, even while thinking they’d been somewhat overprotective of her while growing up.

She took a quick look through the peephole and blinked. Her eyes then shot open wide as she looked out the peephole again. Because she had just dreamed about the father of her babies her mind had to be playing tricks on her. There was no way he could be outside on her doorstep. The sun had set and the person was standing in a shadowed area of the porch so she couldn’t completely make out the man’s face. But from the build of his body—especially the broad, masculine shoulders—reminded her so much of Quade. Her one-time lover. The man who was constantly a part of her dreams.

She found her voice, yet it was shaky when she asked. “Who is it?”

“Quade.”

She sagged against the door as a gush of shocked breath rushed from her lungs. Why was he here? Had he somehow found out about her babies?

“Cheyenne, I need to talk to you.”

His voice was just as she remembered; ultra husky and as sexy as any man’s voice had a right to be. Knowing she couldn’t keep him standing outside forever, she garnered as much strength as she could and slowly began twisting the doorknob while asking herself how she would handle seeing him again when the mere thought of the man sent lust ripping through her body.

The door opened and she immediately met his gaze, finding it hard to believe that this wasn’t a dream and he was actually here, standing on her doorstep—in the flesh. The air surrounding them suddenly became charged—just as it had that night. And she couldn’t help noticing that also just like that night, his body was molded into a pair of faded jeans and a pullover shirt. Both oozed a degree of sexuality that warmed her skin and created an intense yearning within her. The man was as darkly handsome as she remembered. Even more so.

To make matters worse, he was staring at her the same way he had that night on the beach and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to recognize that look of blatant desire in his eyes. Like before, he was getting to her without very much effort and she fought back the urge to reach out and touch him, while convincing herself that her hormones were out of whack and making her crave something she really didn’t want and definitely something she didn’t need.

Inhaling deeply she tried to relax, fight off the shock of seeing him. She was determined to find out why he was there while refusing to consider that somehow he had found out about the triplets.

“Quade? I don’t understand why you’re here,” she heard herself say. “I didn’t expect to ever see you again.”

He continued to look at her. “I didn’t expect to ever see you again, either,” he said softly, yet in a masculine tone. “But I saw you on the cover of a magazine. And you were pregnant.”

She nervously licked her lips, having an idea where this conversation was headed. A part of her regretted that she had allowed Roz to talk her into doing that magazine cover. And what on earth was he doing looking at an issue of Pregnancy magazine?

“I want to know one thing.”

Cheyenne sensed what he wanted to know but asked the question anyway, preferring not to make assumptions. “What do you want to know?”

“Did you have my baby?”

Chapter 3

Quade felt his insides tighten, not knowing what Cheyenne’s response would be, not even sure from the way she was looking at him if she would even give him one. The trouble was, he didn’t plan on leaving until she did.

Until now he’d never given any thought to being a father. In fact, a wife and kids weren’t on his list of goals he’d wanted to achieve in life. There seemed to be enough of his brothers and cousins doing a pretty damn good job of being productive and replenishing the earth with more Westmorelands, for him to be needed in that role. However, if he was the father of her child, then he would take full responsibility, and the sooner she knew it the better.

“Westmorelands take full responsibility for their actions,” he said, as if that explained everything. He tried to downplay the stirrings in his groin that had started the moment she had opened the door. And when she lifted perfectly arched eyebrows the stirrings increased.

“Westmoreland? Is that your last name?” she asked.

He studied her to see what about her was different from that night. She looked a lot younger than twenty-eight and the color of her eyes seemed darker than he recalled. But her lips, full and enticing, were just as luscious as he remembered. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that stretched across firm breasts. Her waistline looked small, not indicative of a woman who’d given birth to a child, but her hips had curves that hadn’t been there before. He, of all people, should know. He had touched and tasted every inch of her body.

“Quade?”

When she said his name, he realized he hadn’t responded to her question. “Yes. Westmoreland is my last name.” It also made him realize just how little they knew about each other. The only thing they did know was how much they could satisfy each other in bed. “And I take it that Steele is yours,” he decided to add.

She nodded slowly. “Yes, Steele is mine.”

Now that they’d gotten that out of the way, she still hadn’t answered his question—the most important one and the reason he was there. “Are you going to answer my question about the baby?”

* * *

Cheyenne wasn’t sure if she should answer him. Although there was no doubt in her mind that he had a right to know, she just wasn’t certain he would be ready for her response. He was inquiring about a baby. How would he handle the fact that there were three?

She let out a sigh as she studied the handsome face staring back at her. It was a face that still had the power to make her pulse race, her heart beat faster and cause goose bumps to form on her arms. And worse still, it had the power to make her vividly recall every single detail of the night they had spent together.

Fully aware of the lengthening silence between them and the fact she could tell by the tightening of his jaw that he was getting annoyed she hadn’t responded to his question, she said, “I think you should come in so we can talk about it.”

“Do you?” he asked in what she picked up as a rather cool voice.

“Yes.” She took a step back and opened the door a little wider in invitation.

He continued to stare at her for a moment before crossing the threshold into her home and closing the door behind him. It wasn’t until he was inside that she became fully aware of just how tall he was. Her cousins and two brothers-in-law were tall men and Quade would fit right in with them. His presence seemed to dominate the room and there was an air about him that said he was confident in his masculinity. Confident, even arrogant.

“You’re stalling.”

He had come to stand directly in front of her and she was all too aware of his presence. “Am I?” she asked, fighting the tightness in her throat.

“Yes, and I’d like to know why? I would think my question was simple enough,” he said in a tone that let her know he was getting even more agitated. “You were pregnant. The baby you gave birth to was fathered by me or by someone else. All I want to know is, was it me?”

Anger simmered in her belly at the thought that he could assume she had slept with someone else, but then she had to be reasonable—he didn’t know her. The only thing he knew was how quickly he had been able to get her in his bed and without very much effort. He had been a total stranger yet she had gone to his hotel room, stripped naked and had made love to him almost nonstop all night long.

She inhaled deeply and then asked. “And if I were to say that it wasn’t you?”

He gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Then I apologize for seeking you out and wasting your time.”

“And if it was you?” she asked softly. “Not saying that it was,” she hurriedly added.

She saw a hardening in his gaze. “To be quite honest, you really aren’t saying anything,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why can’t you just give me a definitive answer?”

Cheyenne placed her arms over her chest, as well. “It’s a bit complicated.”

He lifted a brow and gave her a probing look. “Complicated in what way? Either I’m the one who got you pregnant, or I’m not. Now which one is it?”

His gaze burned into hers with a warning that said he was impatient, and tired of her not giving him a straight answer. She swallowed the lump in her throat and then said. “Yes, you’re the one. But...”

“But what?”

From his expression it was hard to tell if he was disappointed or elated about being a father. Probably the former, since she figured most men preferred not becoming a daddy from a one-night stand. “There wasn’t a baby,” she said.

She actually saw the glint of concern that flashed in his eyes. “Did you lose it?” he asked softly.

“No,” she said quickly. “That’s not what I meant.”

He stared at her. His expression then became rather chilling. “Then how about telling me just what the hell you did mean.”

She glared at him. He was getting angry and so was she. She placed her hand on her hip and took a step closer to him with fire in her eyes. “What I mean, Quade, is that I didn’t give birth to one baby. I gave birth to three.”

* * *

Quade’s mouth dropped open in shock. He had seen the size of her stomach and, although his cousin Cole had joked at the possibility she was carrying more than one baby, Quade had dismissed it, assuming the baby was just a big one. She’d given birth to triplets—Westmoreland triplets. The first in his generation of Westmorelands. He couldn’t help but smile at the thought. Damn.

“Is there something that you find rather amusing?” Cheyenne asked in a somewhat annoyed tone. He glanced over at her. She looked as if she was ready to throw something at him. He could just imagine how hard it would be to give birth to one baby. But three...

He shrugged broad shoulders. “No,” he said, quickly wiping the smile off his face. “Are they okay?”

The anger eased from her eyes somewhat with his question of concern. “Yes. They were born eight weeks premature and had to remain in the hospital for almost three weeks, but now they’re fine.”

“I want to see them,” he said, wanting to make sure for himself.

From the look that suddenly appeared in her eyes he could tell his brisk and authoritarian tone hadn’t helped matters, but at the moment he didn’t care. If he had fathered babies, he wanted to see them. She said they were okay, but he wanted to see them for himself.

“No.”

Now it was his eyes that were narrowing. “No?”

“That’s what I said.”

He stared at her. She was trying to be difficult. The look on her face was proof of that. He was used to his orders being followed. Okay, he would concede that he wasn’t still with the PSF and she wasn’t one of his men. But still, had he requested something of her that was so complex?

“Is there a reason why I can’t see them?”

“Yes. They’re asleep.”

He studied her. “Is there a reason you can’t wake them up?”

For a single minute she looked like she wanted to hit him over the head with something again. “Yes. It will interfere with their sleep pattern. If I disturb their sleep now, they will stay up later tonight and I would like to get a good night’s sleep.”

“Fine, I won’t wake them, but I want to see them.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Tension sizzled between them and finally through gritted teeth Cheyenne said, “Fine, but you better not wake them.”

“I said I wouldn’t,” Quade said in a furious growl. People used anger to mask a lot of things, even hard-cast lust like he was feeling now. Just the thought that she had given birth to his babies made him want to reach out and pull her into his arms and kiss the pout right off her lips. That would only be the start....

“You better not wake them. Now follow me.”

She turned and he couldn’t help but smile as he followed her down a long hallway. Damn, she was feisty. She hadn’t been that night in his hotel room. Then she’d been passionate, seductive and very accommodating. He shook his head in disbelief. He was a father. Not that he planned on being one, but now that was beside the point. So what was the point?

He dismissed the question and glanced ahead at Cheyenne, more specifically her shapely backside. He was partial to that part of a woman’s anatomy and even with her clothes on he could vividly recall her naked behind. He had liked it, especially the way it was curved and how it had felt beneath the heat of his body. It had been a lovemaking position he had introduced her to, and a position she had enjoyed just as much as he had.

She stopped at a door and whirled around and glared at him, making him wonder if she’d read his thoughts. “You didn’t ask, but I’ll tell you anyway,” she all but snapped. “I have a son and two daughters.”

The sex of the babies didn’t matter to him. All that mattered was that they were his. “We have a son and two daughters,” he corrected her by saying.

She stared at him—actually glared at him—some more. “You don’t seem surprised that I gave birth to triplets.”

He shrugged. “Not really,” he said softly, trying to follow her lead and keep his voice down. “Multiple births run in my family. I’m a twin.”

The look of surprise on her face was priceless and reminded him of just how little they knew of each other. “You didn’t mention it that night,” she all but accused.

“I had no reason to do so. If I recall, we didn’t do much talking.”

At that instant, by the look in her eyes, he knew his words were forcing her to remember. Then just as quickly he watched as she schooled her features to reflect casual indifference. “I don’t remember,” she said with deliberate coolness.

He smiled. She was lying and they both knew it. However, if she wanted to pretend she didn’t remember anything about that night then he would let her.

“And although you haven’t even asked me what their names are, I’m going to tell you anyway,” she said in a tone that implied she was still annoyed with him. “My daughters are Venus and Athena, and my son’s name is Troy.”

He nodded. They were nice names.

“There’s something that you should know about Troy.”

He lifted a brow. Concerned. “What?”

“He sometimes develops a bad disposition, especially when he’s hungry. He always wants to be fed before his sisters, and he always wants to be the center of attention.”

“Typical Westmoreland.”

“They were born Steeles.”

He let out an aggravated sigh. “Only because I wasn’t here to make things otherwise. I’m here now.”

He could feel the tension once again sizzling through them. “Meaning?” she asked.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Meaning, since you have confirmed the babies are mine, that will entail a number of things.”

“Like what?”

He saw a flicker of defiance in her eyes and knew whatever “a number of things” were she would put up a fight. “I’d rather not discuss them now. I just want to see the babies.”

He had a feeling she was a woman who was used to calling the shots and didn’t appreciate his entrance into her life. Well, that was too bad. Babies had been the product of their one night of sexual lust, and although becoming a father had been the last thing on his mind, that very thing had happened. And just like he’d told her and would again tell her just in case she hadn’t gotten it, a Westmoreland took responsibility for his actions, no matter what they were. That code of ethics had been drilled into every Westmoreland from day one and it would be his responsibility to teach that same code to his son and daughters.

A son and two daughters.

He inhaled deeply at the thought. What on earth was he supposed to do with babies? He liked kids well enough, but had never intended to have any of his own. He had enough nieces and nephews—either already born or presently on the way, and then all his cousins had begun having children, which meant he was constantly having a slew of young cousins being born. But now, of all things, it looked like he had three of his own to add to the number. He could just imagine his family’s reaction when he told them. His mother would go crazy. Sarah Westmoreland was determined to get all the grandkids that she could out of her six sons.

“Remember, you aren’t to wake them.”

Her words intruded in on his thoughts. “I don’t need to be reminded, Cheyenne.”

She rolled her eyes and opened the bedroom door. He followed her in and glanced around. There were several painted animals on the walls and he immediately recognized the theme. Noah’s ark. Must be a popular one since his cousin Storm’s twin two-year-old daughters had their room decorated in the same way. He sniffed the air. The room even smelled like a nursery. The comforting scent of baby powder, oil and lotion lingered in the air.

Quade’s attention then came to rest to the three white baby cribs and he suddenly swallowed when he fully realized what this moment meant. Something akin to panic surged through his veins. He was used to just looking after himself, and for the past few years, he had done a pretty damn good job doing so considering all the sticky situations he’d been in while working for the PSF. Now he would be responsible for others, namely three babies that were his. In a way, that was scarier than protecting the president. He had a feeling being a father was going to be one hell of a challenge.

He glanced over at Cheyenne. She was going to be a challenge, too. There was a lot about her that he didn’t know. But the one thing he did know was that she had chosen to bring his babies into the world instead of not doing so. Women these days had other options and considering everything, he was glad of the decision she had made. He let out a long sigh and slowly followed Cheyenne over to the first crib.

“This is Venus,” Cheyenne said as a way of introduction. “She’s the youngest and weighed the least when she was born. Because she weighed less than three pounds at birth, she had to stay in the hospital’s special care baby unit two weeks longer than the others.”

Quade glanced down at the baby covered by a pink blanket and his breath caught in his chest. He held his hands tight by his sides, tempted to reach out and touch her, just to see if she was real. Her little head was covered by black hair and she seemed to be sleeping so peacefully. She was such a fragile little thing. He silently vowed that one day under his love and protection she would grow to have incredible strength and would never have to worry about anything.

“And this is Athena,” Cheyenne whispered.

He glanced up to see that Cheyenne had moved to the second crib. He took a couple of steps to stand beside her to glance down at the baby sleeping in the crib. She was also covered in a pink blanket and like her sister, she had a head full of dark hair. She was bigger than her sister, but still she looked rather small. “How much did she weigh?” he asked in a very low voice, meeting Cheyenne’s eyes.

“Barely three. She was born second.”

He glanced back down and knew, like the other baby, this one would never have to worry about anything. He would make sure of it. Following Cheyenne, he moved to the third crib and blinked. His son definitely wasn’t a small baby. He could probably make two of his sisters.

“Like I said. He likes to eat,” Cheyenne said, and he could hear the amusement in her voice. “He was born weighing almost four pounds and now he’s almost eight pounds.”

“What do you feed them?”

“Breast milk.”

Quade’s gaze immediately went to her chest and saw the outline of her breasts pressed against the blouse she was wearing. His heart thudded at the memory that was so fresh in his mind of when his mouth had captured a hardened nipple between his lips and how he had indulged in a little breast time himself by sucking on her breasts the same way a baby would. He also remembered just how much she had enjoyed the little byplay.

“I take it that he was born first,” he decided to say, placing his gaze back on his son and away from Cheyenne.

“Yes, and when he gets older, I’m going to depend on him to look after his sisters. Look after them, but not boss them around,” Cheyenne said softly.

He lifted a brow and smiled. “Do I hear a little resentment in your voice? Did your brothers boss you around?”

She smiled back and moved away from the crib toward the door. When they were outside in the hall she said. “I don’t have any brothers. My parents had three girls and I’m the youngest and yes, my sisters tried bossing me around. And then there are my male cousins. Four of them. And they were bossy, as well, although they were convinced being that way was for my own good.”

For some reason the thought pleased him that she had people looking out for her. He bet she had been a beautiful child. She’d certainly grown up to be a beautiful woman. He could imagine all the men who’d come calling.

“So what do you think?”

He glanced over at her as they walked back toward the living room. “About what?”

She stopped walking. “Not about what, but about who,” she said, more than a little annoyed. “What do you think of Venus, Athena and Troy?”

He shrugged, not sure he could fully explain to her or anyone just how he was feeling at that moment. He decided to try. “I never planned to get married or have children. My chosen career took me all over the country and would have been hell on a family.”

“But do you like children?” she asked him.

“What’s there not to like? To be totally honest, I’ve never been around a child for a long period of time. If you’re trying to find out how I feel about them rather than what I think of them, then I would have to say that as strange as it may seem, I feel attached to them already. Seeing them in there, knowing they are a part of me, something the two of us created... I can’t help but be overcome by it all. And just to think they are dependent on us makes me—”

“They aren’t dependent on you, Quade. I’m not asking you for anything.”

He stared at her for a long moment before he spoke. “You don’t have to ask. They are mine, Cheyenne, and I claim them as mine. For a Westmoreland, that means everything.”

He could tell that his words bothered her for some reason and she proved him right when she said in a frosty tone. “I think we need to talk.”

“Evidently we do. Lead the way.”

She did and he followed, getting the chance to ogle her backside once again.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

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

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