Kids Included

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

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

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

‘Hi, Tom. Good day?’

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

Jack grimaced. ‘Finger painting.’

‘Looks more like face painting.’

‘Mmm. Where’s Amy?’

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

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

Hell.

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

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

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

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

‘Hello, Molly,’ he said softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She chuckled again. ‘And your abseiling?’

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

She looked around. ‘Where is he?’

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

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

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

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

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

Absurd…

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

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

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

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

‘So, what’s on tomorrow?’ she asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was all he meant—surely?

‘What about the morning?’ he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER TWO

‘MOLLY?’

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

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

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

‘Seems I wasn’t needed there.’

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

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

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

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

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

‘If you’re sure it’s no trouble.’

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

‘You’re mad with me.’

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

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

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

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

‘And add lying to your sins?’

‘Maybe it’s not a lie.’

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

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

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

‘Grouch.’

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

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

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

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

‘Penny for them.’

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

‘Black—strong, no sugar.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘More?’ she offered automatically.

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

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

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

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

‘Please.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn.

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

‘I’m sorry—’

‘I’m sorry—’

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

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

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

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

‘Meaning you, or me?’

He grinned. ‘Either. Both.’

‘Speak for yourself.’

‘Ribbet-ribbet.’

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

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

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

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

He chuckled. ‘You did fine.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘You’ll love it.’

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

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

‘You’re mad.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘I’ll get you one.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Tell me about Jan,’ she prompted gently.

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