The Acquired Bride

As she spooned sugar into her cup, she concentrated on controlling her shaking hands. He was a tycoon—Storkville’s answer to Donald Trump—according to teenage town gossip Penny Sue Lipton, who worked after school at the day-care center. Still, the man had been more than kind to her son, even after being on the business end of his cotton candy. Nine out of ten tycoons would have chewed Lukie up and spit him out, not asked him to call them Mr. Mac. However much she rationalized her reaction to him, she would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that she found Quentin McCormack super-appealing.

With her coffee carefully cradled in both hands, she tried to inch away from the table, but she was trapped. People were behind her and one incredibly sexy tycoon blocked her from the front. She blew on the contents of her cup as she searched for an escape route, or failing that, something to say. “How are you?” she finally asked.

“Fine. And you?”

“Busy,” she answered automatically.

He studied her face. “You look tired.”

“Just distracted,” she said.

“If anyone else said that to me, I’d figure it was just small talk. In your case, you’ve got reasons times three why your focus is fragmented. How are the kids?”

“Great,” she said.

“Are they excited about the holidays coming?”

“That’s hard to say. They remember a little from last year. But it wasn’t a very happy time.” The expression on his handsome face was so kind and sympathetic she found herself telling him more. “Their father was in an automobile accident almost a year ago.”

“I’m sorry,” he said automatically.

“He was in a coma for a week before he died on Christmas Eve. It was a rough time for them. Their recollections are vague, thank goodness. I hope to replace those memories with happy ones this year.” But if her in-laws had their way, that wasn’t likely. She couldn’t suppress the shiver of apprehension that slithered through her.

“Is something wrong, Dana?” he asked.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” she answered.

Just then Cleland Knox, in line behind Dana, backed into her, knocking her forward. The sudden movement caused her to launch the contents of her cup. It arced onto the front of Quentin’s sport coat, the stark white shirt beneath, and the front of his pants.

Stunned, she stared open-mouthed at the liquid soaking into his shirt and dripping down his flat-as-a-washboard abdomen. “Oh, Quentin, I’m so sorry.”

Quickly, she grabbed the stack of napkins from the table beside her and began to blot him. At least the coffee had cooled and didn’t scald him. If only she could say the same for herself—she was hot and bothered. She tried to ignore her response to touching the abdomen she’d admired. But her stomach fluttered like a thousand butterflies in flight.

“I can’t believe this,” she said as she stood back to survey the results of her efforts. Without soap, water and some strong stain remover, there wasn’t much more she could do.

“It must be in the genes. Like mother, like son,” he teased. He studied her face and added, “That was a joke, Dana. And it was an accident.”

After watching her work, Cleland said, “My apologies. You all right, Dana? Sorry, Quentin. The missus keeps telling me to watch where I’m going.”

“No harm done,” Quentin said graciously.

“Again, I must offer to pay any dry-cleaning costs.” Dana twisted her hands together.

“Why, he wouldn’t dream of letting you do that. He’s got more money than God,” Cleland said with a laugh. Then someone from across the room called him over.

“He’s right, Dana. It’s not a big deal. Forget it.”

“If you say so. I just can’t believe the Hewitts have clobbered you twice. But I promise I won’t come near you again.”

“Ever?” he asked.

Was that disappointment on his face?

“Not while I’ve got food or drink in my hand,” she qualified, trying to quell the glow his expression had caused.

“Deal,” Quentin said. “But it wasn’t your fault.”

“Still, if this keeps up, you won’t have any decent clothes left. I know how hard it is to get stains out.”

“Not as hard as it’s been to get you out of my thoughts,” he mumbled.

“What was that?”

“I said, you should know with your tots. About stains, I mean,” he added.

“You can say that again.” She met his blue-eyed gaze, which held an intensity that stole the breath from her lungs. Suddenly he grinned and it was as if the heavens had opened and the earth stood still. Her heart skipped.

“From now on, I’ll wear a raincoat when I’m around you,” he teased.

“Go ahead. Joke about it. But truly, I feel just awful. This time, I will make it up to you.”

No excuses. Time and money were hurdles she could overcome with ingenuity. Before another twenty-four hours passed, she would do something to show him how very sorry she was. The only question: how do you make amends to a man who has more money than God?

Chapter Two

The morning after the chamber of commerce meeting, Quentin entered his office and sat down behind his desk. At the same time, the intercom buzzed and he pushed the button. “Yes, Doleen?”

“You have a visitor.”

“Who is it?”

“Sheriff Malone is here to see you, Mr. McCormack.”

“Send him in.”

Quentin figured he was making a pitch for the police department’s Halloween fund. Usually one of the deputies made a phone call; it was good that the sheriff was making a personal appeal. The man kept too much to himself. And the annual event was a worthy cause. The money raised was used for a haunted house to keep the kids supervised and out of mischief. Every year, Quentin made a generous donation. After all, Storkville was all about kids.

A vision of Dana Hewitt and her three children flashed through his mind. It was something that had been happening on an alarmingly regular basis ever since he’d met her. Even though he’d done his darnedest to forget her. It might be easier if he could put his finger on exactly what made her so unforgettable.

After seeing her again last night, sleep had been elusive. When he’d finally managed to doze off, his dreams had been of Dana. He’d never met a woman who had captivated him so quickly and so completely.

When his office door opened, Quentin was relieved that he didn’t have to pursue his last thought. Then he noticed the grim look on the sheriff’s face. Tucker Malone was tall, imposing and probably intimidating to someone on the wrong side of the law. His brown hair showed silver at his temples. His eyes, the color of dark chocolate, hid secrets that Quentin had a feeling were painful. Not a stretch, since he’d been an undercover detective for the Chicago police department. Quentin didn’t know the sheriff well, but he liked and respected him.

He held out his hand. “Good morning, Tucker.”

“Quentin,” the sheriff answered, firmly clasping his outstretched hand.

“Have a seat,” he said, indicating one of the leather wing chairs resting in front of his desk. Then he sat down on the other side.

“Thanks. But this isn’t a social call,” the sheriff answered, lowering himself into the chair.

“Oh?”

“It’s about the twins abandoned at the day-care center.”

Quentin had heard that the sheriff had been called in because no one had claimed the babies. Since then, Tucker had been following up every lead. But Quentin had no idea why he’d come to see him. He had no information to aid in the search.

Tucker cleared his throat. “There was a rattle found with the twins’ belongings when they were left at Hannah’s.”

“I didn’t know that.”

He nodded. “Good. I’ve been trying to keep details quiet. Cleaner that way.”

“Did it lead you to the mother?”

“No. But maybe the father.” The man’s piercing gaze never wavered.

Quentin tensed as he went cold inside. “What are you implying?”

Tucker pulled a long-handled, tarnished metal rattle from his shirt pocket. “I think this might belong to you. It’s silver. Expensive. And has the McCormack crest on it.”

“Are you sure?” Quentin asked. Stunned didn’t come close to describing how he felt.

“The markings are faint so it took me a while to place it. But you’d know best.” He held it out.

Quentin hesitated a moment. “Will I smudge any fingerprints?”

One corner of the sheriff’s mouth turned up. “You’ve been watching too many cop shows on TV.” He shook his head. “It was dusted for prints, but we couldn’t get a clean set.”

Quentin took the rattle and examined it. Several moments later anger sliced through him as he recognized the nearly worn-away family crest. What the hell was going on? “This is a McCormack heirloom, all right.”

“Any idea why it was with the twins?”

He shook his head. “Not a clue.”

“Would it have something to do with you being their father?” Tucker asked grimly.

“No.”

“That’s it?”

“I can do self-righteous indignation as well as the next guy. I could raise my voice and pound on the desk, but it wouldn’t make my answer any more true. I’m responsible about that sort of thing.” He remembered using almost the same words to Dana. “I’m as certain as I can be that I have not fathered any children—let alone the boy and girl left at Hannah’s.”

“I’d like to keep the rattle. It’s still evidence,” Tucker explained. Quentin handed it over. Some of the sheriff’s tension seemed to ease as he took the long silver handle and replaced it in his pocket. “You didn’t give the rattle to anyone?”

“No.”

“Do you have any idea how it came to be with the babies?”

“No.”

“Who would have access to it on the estate?”

“Everyone who comes into the house. There’s a display of heirlooms in one of the bedrooms. And you’ve been in Storkville long enough to know that there are numerous social and charitable functions held at the McCormack estate. I’ll check with my mother and see if she’s noticed anything missing.”

He nodded. “You do that. In the meantime, you might want to have a DNA test.”

“But I—”

“If you’re innocent, Quentin, you have nothing to worry about. Why not take steps to clear your name? It’s the only way to be sure.”

The man had a point. “I’ll call the lab and make an appointment.”

Tucker stood up. “Good.” He went to the door, and started to turn the knob. “Quentin?”

“Sheriff?”

“I just want you to know that I’m keeping this investigation as quiet as I can.”

“Thanks, Tucker.”

“I’m not doing it for you. I don’t want this case compromised by publicity. If it’s the last thing I do, I will find out who those kids belong to.” His voice was laced with anger and something that felt like regret.

Then he was gone.

Quentin ran his hand through his hair. In spite of his own denials, he realized that there was a good chance the sheriff believed he had abandoned those babies. If he was ever lucky enough to have children, no way would he turn his back on them. Still, it was a good thing he’d made his donation to Hannah’s day-care center anonymously. That information, along with the rattle, would probably convince Storkville’s lawman that he was guilty beyond a doubt.

He didn’t care what Tucker Malone thought. But if Dana Hewitt heard of the suspicions regarding him, what would she think? Nothing good, he figured. And he realized he wanted her favorable opinion. He picked up the phone. One DNA test ASAP.

After hours, Quentin looked out his office window. The day had started out with a visit from the sheriff and had gone downhill from there. He was glad it was over.

He studied the lights in businesses up and down Main Street. He could almost see Bassinets & Booties from here. A vision filled his head: mahogany hair, gray eyes, full lips. Dana. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman he’d tried to forget after their first meeting.

“Mission impossible,” he said ruefully.

Since their encounter the previous evening, his thoughts of Dana had heated up. And not just because she’d baptized him with the contents of her coffee cup. He’d spent a restless night dreaming of running his hands through her hair, kissing her until they both went up in flames. His intercom buzzed, startling him.

He swiveled his chair away from the window and answered. “Yes, Doleen?”

“You have a visitor.”

He wasn’t expecting anyone. This was the way his day had started. He groaned. Not Sheriff Malone again. Since he wasn’t the babies’ father, what more could there be to talk about? His stomach knotted when he remembered his own secret. Had Tucker discovered that he was the day-care center’s anonymous benefactor?

“Who is it?” he demanded, dreading the answer.

“A woman and three adorable children,” Doleen answered, a smile in her voice.

Dana and her kids, he thought. He’d tried all day to shake his dismal mood. Now he was as excited as a teenage boy going to the prom with the most popular girl in school.

“Send them in,” he said.

A moment later, his office door opened and Lukie raced toward him. Quentin stood in front of his desk and braced himself for impact. He bent down and lifted the little guy into his arms.

“Hi, Lukie.”

“Hi, Mr. Mac.”

They grinned at each other. Then he saw Dana, standing in the doorway with Molly and Kelly. He drank in the sight of her like the plains soak up the first rain after a drought. He could hardly breathe. If anything, she grew more beautiful every time he saw her.

He looked closer and noticed that her eyes lacked their special sparkle. Her full mouth turned up in a smile of greeting, but he knew it was the generic one she used for customers at the end of a particularly long day. She seemed tired, or tense. Or both.

“Hello, Dana,” he said. Then to the two girls now clinging to her legs, “Hi, Kelly. Hi, Molly. Thanks for coming to see me.”

Shyly, they hid their faces in their mother’s red dress, but in such a way that they could peek at him.

“You remembered their names,” Dana said. This time her smile was genuine and for just a moment her eyes shone.

“Of course.” He tried to sound casual, but inside he was doing the touchdown dance at pleasing her. “Although they look so identical, I’d crash and burn if you asked me to address them by name and be correct.”

She laughed. “When they were born, I knew that would be a problem. So I came up with a cheat sheet. Molly has a small mole, or beauty mark as I refer to it, just to the right of her mouth. M for Molly and mole.”

“Clever mother,” he said.

“Thank you. One tries even if one isn’t always successful.” There was an edge to her voice that made him suspect a double meaning to her words. And another black look replaced the pleasure on her face. “But I didn’t barge in to dazzle you with my foxy maternal instincts.”

She just dazzled him with her foxy self, he thought. Then he noticed the basket in her hands and remembered her promise to make retribution for dumping coffee on him. He wanted to tell her she could dump as often as she wanted if it meant he could spend time with her. He realized that he very much wanted to do that.

“Why did you drop in and dazzle me?” he asked instead.

She smiled. “If you’ll put my son down, we’ll do our thing.”

“There you go, big guy,” he said, setting the boy on the rug.

He raced over to his mom, and Quentin realized Lukas had only one pace: light speed. Dana bent down and together they moved forward and handed him the green-cellophane-wrapped basket.

“For you,” Lukie said proudly. “Cuz me and mommy spilled.”

“Thank you.” Quentin took the basket. At the same time, he got a whiff of Dana’s fragrance and realized he could find her in a pitch-black room. The memory of her scent would haunt him forever.

The thought made him hot all over. In his shaky hands, the cellophane snapped, crackled and popped. Not unlike what was going on inside him. Could she tell? He glanced at her to see if she’d noticed.

But she was watching Lukie, who had lost interest in the peace offering. The boy had crawled under his desk and was now on the other side diddling with his computer keyboard.

“Lukie, don’t touch Mr. Mac’s things,” she warned him.

“Okay,” he said and stopped. For a moment.

“I should have left them with Hannah for a few more minutes while I made my peace offering,” she said. “But they’re there all day and I hate to leave them longer than I absolutely must.”

“I’m glad you didn’t. I like seeing them. And this is great,” Quentin said, peering at the wrapping. It was not quite transparent enough to see the contents. “But you really didn’t have to do it.”

“It’s no big deal. But do you have any idea how hard it is to come up with a contrition offering for a man who has more money than God?”

As always, his warning signals went up at the mention of his money. “It’s the thought that counts,” he said automatically.

“That’s a cliché, but I hope you really mean it,” she answered.

“Open your pwesent,” Lukie said. He raced around the desk. “Mommy and me wapped it. Me and my sisters maked cookies.”

“Way to go, buddy.” Quentin looked at the boy’s mother. “When did you have time?”

She shrugged. “They get up at the crack of dawn. We baked this morning before work and day care.”

Quentin put the basket on his desk and untied the ribbon. Inside he found cookies, muffins and peanut brittle. Nestled in the center of the baked goods there was an envelope. He opened it and found a gift certificate to the local dry cleaner.

“Perfect,” he said chuckling. He met Dana’s gaze. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said.

The children lost interest as soon as the basket was opened and they drifted away. Quentin noticed the girls quietly checking out the magazines sitting on the table in the corner.

“Don’t touch things,” Dana warned them. “You too, Lukie. Put down Mr. Mac’s eyeglasses.” The boy had retreated to the other side of his desk again and was examining the glasses Quentin used for computer work.

Quentin studied Dana. She was definitely tense. He hoped she wasn’t really worried about spilling on him. Or was something else bothering her?

“The kids are fine, Dana. It’s their job to explore,” he said gently.

“And it’s my job to pay for what they destroy in the process of doing their job,” she said. Glancing around his office she continued, “And you have a wonderful office with all kinds of things to break.”

“Thank you, I think.”

“So much to explore, so little time,” she said, giving his work space an admiring glance.

He followed her gaze. He liked it and was pleased that she approved. On the hunter-green carpet, his oak desk and computer return filled the center of the room. Across from it was the soft brown leather sofa. From time to time, he had picked out pieces of art and knickknacks that caught his fancy. The cost hadn’t fazed him.

A worried frown marred her smooth forehead. “But do you have something against plastic?”

“Excuse me?”

“Everything in here is breakable. I’d better get the children home before you regret that we dropped in. Dropped being the operative word.”

“Don’t go yet,” he said before he could stop himself. “The carpet is thick. Things bounce.”

“I’m glad. Because my budget doesn’t have much bounce,” she said ruefully. “But we’re doing fine financially,” she added quickly.

To reassure her or himself, he wondered. He decided to change the subject. “How’s business?”

“Good. Storkville is a wonderful community for a baby store. The population is growing steadily, hence the store is doing well. I think word is out about what a great place it is to raise children.” Her pretty face clouded. “Which is probably why the twins were left with Hannah. I hope they find whoever abandoned those babies.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” he said, uncomfortable with the direction his change of subject had taken her.

“There should be a special place in hell for someone like that. Who could walk out on their children? Steffie and Sammy are so adorable. I worry about Molly, Kelly and Lukie every moment I’m not with them.”

Had she heard that the sheriff suspected him of fathering the twins? He studied her reaction, trying to decide if her tirade was general or specific to him. Suddenly an alarmed expression suffused her features and she hurried around his desk.

“Lukie, put that down,” she said, removing a ceramic paperweight from the child’s hand. She glanced ruefully at Quentin. “Something tells me you don’t do much business with three-year-olds.”

He laughed. “No. But I’m looking into it.”

He realized he wasn’t joking. The moment she’d walked into his office with her munchkin marauders, their energy and innocent curiosity had lifted his spirits. He liked watching them. He liked watching her. He would like to have them around. A lot.

He wondered if Aunt Gertie’s lemonade, which he’d sipped the night before, was to blame for his thoughts. The rumor was that it was supposed to help women get pregnant. Could it put thoughts of settling down with a ready-made family into a lonely bachelor’s head? Even one who had been avoiding gold diggers all his adult life?

Did Dana fall into the gold digger category? His every instinct said no. She had ignored him after their first meeting. His gut told him she wouldn’t be here now if not for the lucky coffee accident last night. And she’d had a little help from the mayor. He made a mental note to send Cleland Knox a special greeting when the holidays rolled around this year.

With her son’s hand firmly gripped in her own, Dana walked back around in front of him. “If your clientele expands to children, I’d advise you to kid-proof your office. Otherwise the pressure will age you before your time.”

“I’m not worried. Relax, Dana. They’re things. Replaceable.”

“Easy for you to say,” she said, sighing loudly as Lukie pulled his hand from hers and wiggled back under the desk. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Kelly and Molly touching a crystal bell on a shelf in the curio cabinet in the corner.

“Put that down, girls,” she said, an edge to her voice. “Please don’t touch.”

“But, Mommy,” Kelly said.

“It’s pretty,” her sister continued as if she was finishing the thought. “When the light shines it makes wed, and bwue.”

“Me see,” Lukie said, quickly moving beside them.

“No, Lukie.” Dana started toward the trio. “Don’t touch it.”

“Wanna see,” he said.

He grabbed it. When he turned toward the light, the delicate handle hit the shelf and broke off. Then he dropped the bell and it shattered against the base of the cabinet.

“Oh,” Dana said. “Oh, no.”

Quentin stepped in. He gently moved the children away from the broken glass. “Don’t touch,” he warned quietly. “The pieces are sharp. They can cut you. Are you all okay?” They nodded, but he scanned them quickly and didn’t see any blood, so he figured no one had been hit by flying glass.

Lukie stared up at him with a contrite expression that looked awfully familiar. “Sorry, Mr. Mac.”

“Accidents happen, buddy.” He stooped and picked up the pieces of crystal.

When he met Dana’s gaze, he realized she was more fragile than the bell. Her gray eyes shimmered. “I’ll bet that cost at least as much as my monthly grocery bill,” she said.

Close, he thought. But how did she know its value? If she was on a tight budget, would she have any idea what the replacement price was?

She bent and took Lukie’s arm. “Son, that was a no-no. I asked you not to touch Mr. Mac’s things. No cartoons after supper,” she said sternly. “Straight to bed.”

“No, Mommy.” The little boy’s mouth quivered. Then he started to cry.

The next thing Quentin knew, Molly and Kelly were sobbing. Dana looked at him helplessly. “I’m so sorry. Somehow, I’ll make it up to you. I wonder how many cookies I’ll have to bake. I—I have to g-go—”