Forever an Eaton

“Of course you can,” Sabrina said. Pulling away, she went over to Griffin. Standing on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek. “I like your suit.”

The charcoal-gray, single-breasted, styled suit in a lightweight wool blend was Griffin’s favorite. He tugged her ponytail. “Thank you.”

Sabrina gave her uncle a beguiling smile. “You promised that Layla and I could meet Keith Ennis. The Phillies will be in town for four days. Please, please, please, Uncle Griff, can you arrange for us to meet him?”

It was Griffin’s turn to roll his eyes. Keith Ennis had become Major League Baseball’s latest heartthrob. Groupies greeted him in every city and his official fan club boasted more than a million members online.

He’d considered himself blessed when the batting phenom had approached him to represent him in negotiating his contract when he’d been called up from the minors. The Philadelphia Phillies signed him to a three-year, multimillion-dollar deal that made the rookie one of the highest-paid players in the majors, and in his first year he was named Rookie of the Year, earned a Gold Glove and had hit more than forty home runs with one hundred and ten runs batted in.

“I’m having a gathering at my house next Saturday following an afternoon game. You and your sister can come by early to meet him, but then you have to leave.”

“How long can we stay, Uncle Griff?” asked Layla, who’d come down the staircase in time to overhear her uncle.

Belinda shot Griffin an I don’t believe you look. Had he lost his mind, telling twelve-year-olds that they could come to an adult gathering where there was certain to be not only alcohol, but half-naked hoochies?

“Your uncle and I will have to talk about this before we agree whether an adult party is appropriate for twelve-year-olds.” She’d deliberately stressed the word adult.

Layla pouted as dots of color mottled her clear complexion. “But Uncle Griff said we could go.”

“Your uncle doesn’t have the final say on where you can go, or what you can do.”

“Who does have the final say?” Sabrina asked.

Belinda felt as if she were being set up. Unknowingly, Griffin had made her the bad guy—yet again. “We both will have the final say. Now, please say goodbye to your grandmother. I’d like to get you settled in because tomorrow is a school day.”

Most of the girls’ clothes and personal belongings had been moved to her house earlier that week. Belinda had hung their clothes in closets but left boxes of stuffed animals and souvenirs for her nieces to unpack and put away.

“We’ll see you for Sunday dinner, Gram,” Layla promised as she hugged and kissed Roberta.

Roberta gave the girls bear hugs accompanied by grunting sound effects. “I want you to listen to your aunt and uncle, or you’ll hear it from me.”

“We will, Gram,” the two chorused.

Belinda lingered behind as Layla and Sabrina followed Griffin outside. “Why didn’t you say something when Griffin mentioned letting the girls hang out at a party with grown folks?”

Roberta crossed her arms under her full bosom and angled her soft, stylishly coiffed salt-and-pepper head. She wanted to tell her middle daughter that becoming a mother was challenging enough, but assuming the responsibility of raising teenage girls, who were still grieving the loss of their parents, and had just started their menses and were subject to mood swings as erratic as the weather, would make her question her sanity.

“I wouldn’t permit anyone to interfere with me raising my children, so I’m not going to get into it with you and Griffin about how you want to deal with Layla and Sabrina. Not only are you their aunt but you are also their mother. What you’re going to have to do is establish the rules with Griffin before you tell the girls what’s expected of them.”

Frustration swept over Belinda. Her mother wasn’t going to take her side. “I can’t understand what made him tell—”

“There’s not much to understand, Belinda,” Roberta retorted, interrupting her. “He’s a man, not a father. What he’s going to have to do is begin thinking like a father.”

“That’s not going to be as easy as it sounds. Layla and Sabrina will spend more time with me than with Griffin. Although he’s agreed to take them on the weekends that doesn’t mean he’ll have them every weekend.”

“Griffin Rice is no different than your father. As a family doctor with a private practice he was always on call. If it wasn’t a sprained wrist or ankle, then it was the hospital asking him to cover in the E.R. Dwight missed so many Sunday dinners that I stopped setting a place for him at the dinner table.”

“Daddy was working, and there is a big difference between working and socializing.”

“You can’t worry about Griffin, Lindy. Either he will step up to the plate or he won’t. At this point in their lives, Sabrina and Layla need a mother not a father. Once the boys start hanging around them, I’m certain he’ll change. Your father did.”

Belinda wanted to tell her mother that Griffin Rice was nothing like Dwight Eaton. With Griffin it was like sending the fox to guard the henhouse. And, if Griffin didn’t take an active role in protecting his nieces now, then she would be forced to be mother and father.

“Let’s hope you’re right.” She hugged and kissed her mother. “We’ll see you Sunday.”

Roberta nodded. “Take care of my girls.”

“You know I will, Mama.”

Belinda walked out of the house to find Griffin waiting for her. He’d removed his suit jacket, his custom-made shirt and tailored slacks displaying his physique to its best advantage. Sabrina and Layla were seated in the back of the car, bouncing to music blaring from the SUV’s speakers. Belinda fixed her gaze on a spot over Griffin’s shoulder rather than meet his intense gaze.

There was something about the way he was staring at her that made Belinda slightly uncomfortable. Perhaps it was his earlier reference to her face and body that added to her uneasiness. The first time she was introduced to Griffin Rice she was stunned by his gorgeous face and perfect body, but after interacting with him she’d thought him arrogant and egotistical when he boasted that he’d graduated number one in his law school class.

Subsequent encounters did little to change her opinion of him. Every time the Eatons and Rices got together Griffin flaunted a different woman. After a while, she stopped speaking to him. Even when they came together as godmother and godfather to celebrate their godchildren’s birthdays, she never exchanged more than a few words with him.

“We have to talk about the girls, Griffin.”

His thick eyebrows arched. “What do you want to talk about?”

“We need to establish some rules concerning parenting.”

“I’ll go along with whatever you want.”

“What I don’t want is for you to promise the girls that they can attend an adult party,” added Belinda.

“I didn’t tell them they could attend the party. I said—”

“I heard what you said, Griffin Rice,” Belinda interrupted angrily. “The girls will not go to your house to meet anyone.”

Griffin’s eyes darkened as he struggled to control his temper. He didn’t know what it was about Belinda Eaton, but she was the only woman who managed to annoy him. He’d stopped speaking to her because she had such a sharp tongue. And rather than argue, he ignored her. But it was impossible to ignore her now because he would have to put up with her for the next eleven years. Once Sabrina and Layla celebrated their twenty-third birthdays he and Belinda could go their separate ways. Having his nieces stay at his house on weekends would put a crimp in his social life, but he was totally committed to his role as their guardian.

Griffin knew what meeting Keith Ennis and getting his autograph meant to the girls. His dilemma was finding a way to get around Belinda’s demands. “Are you willing to compromise?”

“Compromise how?”

“You act as my hostess for the party. Let me finish,” he warned when she started to open her mouth in protest. “You and the girls can spend the weekend with me. You can be my hostess, and I’ll ask Keith to come early so that Sabrina and Layla can meet him. As soon as the others arrive they can go to their rooms while you and I—”

“Will meet and greet your guests,” Belinda said facetiously, finishing his statement.

Grinning and displaying a mouth filled with straight, white teeth, Griffin winked at Belinda. “Now, doesn’t that solve everything? The girls get to meet their idol, I get to interact with my friends and clients and you will be there to monitor Sabrina and Layla.”

I don’t think the girls need as much monitoring as you do, Belinda mused. “I hope when the girls stay over that you won’t expose them to situations they don’t need to see at their age.”

It took a full minute for Griffin to discern what Belinda was implying. “Do you really believe I’m so depraved that I would sleep with a woman when my nieces are in the same house?”

“I don’t know what to believe, Griffin.” Belinda’s voice was pregnant with sarcasm. “What you’re going to have to do is prove to me that you’re capable of looking after two pre-teen girls.”

“I don’t have to prove anything to you, Belinda. The fact that my brother thought me worthy enough to care for and protect his daughters is enough. And, regardless of what you may think—legally I have as much right to see my nieces as you do. I agreed to let them stay with you during the week because their school is in the same district where you live. It would be detrimental to their stability to pull them out midterm to go to a school close to where I live.”

He took a step, bringing him within inches of his sister-in-law, his gaze lingering on the delicate features that made for an arresting face. What he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge the first time he was introduced to Belinda Eaton was that she was stunningly beautiful. She had it all: looks and brains. Also, what he refused to think about was her lithe, curvy body. The one time he saw her in a bikini he’d found himself transfixed by what had been concealed by her conservative attire. It took weeks before the image of her long, shapely legs and the soft excess of flesh rising above her bikini top faded completely. That had been the first and only time that Griffin Rice was consciously aware that he wanted to make love to Belinda Eaton.

“Okay, Griffin. I’ll compromise just this one time. But only because I don’t want to disappoint Layla and Sabrina.”

Griffin smiled, the expression softening his face and making him even more attractive. “Why, thank you, Belinda.”

Belinda also smiled. “You’re quite welcome, Griffin.”

Chapter 2

“Aren’t you coming in with us, Uncle Griff?” Sabrina asked as Griffin stood on the porch of Belinda’s two-story white house framed with dark blue molding and matching shutters.

Cupping the back of her head, Griffin pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I can’t. I have a prior engagement.”

Sabrina blinked once. “You’re engaged?”

Throwing back his head, Griffin laughed. “No. I should’ve said that I have a dinner appointment.”

“Why didn’t you say that instead of saying you were engaged?” Sabrina countered, not seeing the humor in her uncle’s statement.

Griffin sobered quickly when he realized she wasn’t amused. Everyone remarked how Sabrina had an old spirit, that she was wise beyond her years, while Layla the free spirit saw goodness in everything and everyone.

“It looks as if I’m going to have to be very careful about what I say to you.”

Sabrina winked at him. “That’s all right, Uncle Griff. I’ll let you know when I don’t understand something.”

Belinda listened to the exchange between Griffin and his niece. It was apparent he’d met his match. “If you’re not coming in, then I’ll say good night.”

Watching him drive away, she was grateful that Griffin had elected not to come inside because she wanted time alone with her nieces, to see firsthand their reaction to the rooms she’d organized and decorated in what she felt was each girl’s personal style.

Belinda glanced at her watch. “Girls, please go upstairs, do your homework and then get ready for bed. I’m going to have to get you up earlier than usual because I’m going to drive you to school. I also have to fill out another transportation application changing your bus route.” The sisters headed for the staircase, racing each other to the second floor.

Their bus route had changed when they’d gone to live with their grandparents, and it would change again now that they lived with her. It’d taken Belinda two months for the contractor to make the necessary renovations to her house when she realized the twins would have to live with her. She hadn’t known that when she’d moved out of her Philadelphia co-op and into the three-bedroom house. She’d originally bought the house because she’d been looking to live in a less noisy neighborhood with a slower pace. Now she would end up sharing the house with her nieces.

The house’s former owners, a childless couple who taught in the same high school as Belinda, had covered the clapboard with vinyl siding, updated the plumbing and electricity and had landscaped the entire property as they awaited the adoption of a child from Eastern Europe. The adoption fell through and the wife opted for artificial insemination. After several failed tries, she found herself pregnant with not one, but four babies. They began looking for a larger house at the same time Belinda put her co-op on the market. She made the couple an offer, and three months later she closed on what had become her little dream house.

Ear-piercing screams floated down from the second story. Glancing up, she saw Layla hanging over the banister. “Are you okay?” she asked with a smile, knowing the reason for the screaming.

Layla gestured wildly. “Aunt Lindy, I love, love, love it!” she shrieked incoherently before running back to her bedroom.

Minutes later Belinda stood in the room, her arms encircling her nieces’ waists. The contractor had removed the door leading into the master bedroom and installed doors to adjoining bedrooms that led directly into the space she’d set up as a combined office, study and entertainment area. The furnishings included two desks with chairs that faced each other and built-in bookcases along three of the four walls.

The remaining wall held a large flat-screen television. A low table held electronics for a home-theater system. Empty racks for CDs and DVDs were nestled in a corner, along with a worktable with a streamlined desktop and laptop computers and printer. Although the television was equipped with cable, Belinda had programmed parental controls on both the television and internet. French doors had replaced a trio of windows that led to a balcony overlooking the back of the property.

“I know which bedroom is mine,” Sabrina crooned.

“Mine is the one with the bright colors,” Layla said, her voice rising in excitement.

Sabrina pressed closer to her aunt. “This is the first time we’re not going to have to share a bedroom.”

Belinda gave her a warm smile. She recognized them as individuals and sought to relate to them as such. “I have a few house rules that I expect to be followed. You must keep your bedrooms and bathroom clean. I don’t want to find dirty clothes on the floor or under the beds. The first time I find food or drink upstairs there will be consequences.”

Layla shot her a questioning glance. “What kind of consequences?”

“There will be no television or internet for a week. The only exception is to do homework. You’ll also have to give up your iPods and relinquish your cell phones—”

“But we don’t have cell phones,” Sabrina interrupted, sharing a look with her sister.

A mysterious smile tipped the corners of Belinda’s mouth. “If you look in the drawer of your bedside tables you’ll find a cell phone. The phones are a gift from your uncle Griffin. He’s programmed the numbers where you can reach him or me in an emergency. You’ll share a thousand minutes each month, plus unlimited texting. You...”

Her words trailed off when the girls raced out of the room, leaving her staring at the spots where they’d been.

She’d turned the master bedroom into a sanctuary for her nieces, decorated Sabrina’s room with a queen-size, off-white sleigh bed, with matching dresser, nightstands and lingerie chest. Waning daylight filtered through sheer curtains casting shadows on the white comforter dotted with embroidered yellow-and-green butterflies. Layla’s room reflected her offbeat style and personality with orange-red furniture and earth-toned accessories.

Belinda had moved her own bedroom to the first floor in what had been the enclosed back porch. It faced southeast, which meant the rising sun rather than an alarm clock woke her each morning. Layla and Sabrina returned, clutching Sidekick cell phones while doing the “happy dance.”

“Girls, I want you in bed by nine.”

“Yes, Aunt Lindy,” they said in unison.

She walked out of the study and made her way down the carpeted hallway to the staircase. Giving her nieces the run of the second floor would serve two purposes: it would give them a measure of independence and make them responsible for keeping their living space clean.

* * *

Griffin couldn’t remember the last time a woman had bored him to the point of walking out on a date. However, he’d promised Renata Crosby that he would have dinner with her the next time she came to Philadelphia on business. The screenwriter was pretty, but that’s where her appeal started and ended. From the time she sat down at the table in one of his favorite restaurants, Renata had talked nonstop about how much money she’d lost because of the writer’s strike in Hollywood. He wanted to tell her that everyone affected by the strike lost money.

“Griffin, darling, you haven’t heard a word I’ve been saying,” Renata admonished softly.

Griffin forced his attention back to the woman with eyes the color of lapis lazuli. Their deep blue color was the perfect foil for her olive complexion and straight raven-black, chin-length hair.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled apologetically, “but my mind is elsewhere.”

Renata blinked, a fringe of lashes touching the ridge of high cheekbones. She’d spent the better part of an hour trying to seduce Griffin Rice, but it was apparent her scheme to get him to sleep with her wasn’t working. She’d met the highly successful and charismatic sports attorney at an L.A. hot spot, and knew within seconds that she had to have a piece of him.

At the time, he was scheduled to fly out of LAX for the East Coast. So she had followed him to the parking lot where a driver waited for him and got him to exchange business cards with her. She and Griffin had played phone tag for more than a month until one day he answered his phone. She told him that she was meeting a client in Philadelphia, and wanted to have dinner with him before flying back to California. Of course, there was no client and it appeared as if she’d flown three thousand miles for nothing.

“You do seem rather distracted,” she crooned, deliberately lowering her voice.

Griffin stared at his fingers splayed over the pristine, white tablecloth. “That’s because it isn’t every day that a man becomes the father of twin girls.”

An audible gasp escaped Renata. “You’re a father?”

Griffin angled his head and smiled. “Awesome, isn’t it?”

Pressing her lips together, Renata swallowed hard. When she’d inquired about Griffin Rice’s marital status she was told that he wasn’t married. Had her source lied, or had Griffin perfected the art of keeping his private life very private?

“I’d say it’s downright shocking. You didn’t know your wife was having twins?”

“I’m not married.”

“If you’re not married, then you’re a baby daddy. Or should I say a babies’ daddy.”

Griffin registered the contempt in Renata’s voice. Although he wasn’t remotely interested in her, he was still perturbed by her reaction. After all, he’d only agreed to have dinner with her to be polite. Raising his hand, he signaled for the check.

“I’m going to forget you said that.”

Renata concealed her embarrassment behind a too-bright smile. “I’m sorry it came out that way. Please, let me make it up to you by sending you something for your girls,” she said in an attempt to salvage what was left of her pride.

“Apology accepted, but no, thank you.” He signed the check, pushed back his chair to come around the table and help Renata. When she came to her feet, he offered, “Can I drop you anywhere?”

Renata was nearly eye to eye with Griffin in her heels. She knew they would’ve made a striking couple if some other woman hadn’t gotten her hooks into him. She’d met more Griffin Rices than she could count on both hands. Most were good-looking, high-profile men who were willing to be seen with women like her, but when all was said and done they married women who wouldn’t cheat on them, or whom other men wouldn’t give a second glance. As soon as she returned to her hotel room she planned to call an entertainment reporter and give him the lowdown about Griffin Rice having fathered twins.

“No, thanks. I have a rental outside.”

He took her arm. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

Griffin gave Renata the obligatory kiss on the cheek, waited until she maneuvered out of the restaurant’s parking lot and then made his way to where he’d parked his car. He wasn’t as annoyed with Renata’s inane conversation as he was with himself for wasting three precious hours he could’ve spent with his nieces. Glancing at the watch strapped to his wrist, he noted the time. It was eight thirty-five, and he wanted to talk to Sabrina and Layla before they went to bed for the night.

He exceeded the speed limit to make it to Belinda’s house in record time. She’d bought a house a mile from where Grant and Donna had lived, the perfect neighborhood for upwardly mobile young couples with children. Grant had tried to convince him to purchase one of the newer homes of the McMansion variety, but Griffin preferred the charm of the nineteenth-century homes along the Main Line. Though less exclusive than it once was, the suburb west of the city was still identified with the crème de la crème of Philadelphia society.

Whenever he closed the door to his three-story colonial on a half-acre lot along the tree-lined street in Paoli, he was no longer the hard-nosed negotiator trying to make the best deal for his client. Sitting on his patio overlooking a picturesque landscape of massive century-old trees and a carpet of wildflowers had become his ultimate pleasure. He opened his home on average about three times a year to entertain family, friends and clients. Living in Paoli suited his temperament. After growing up in a crowded, bustling Philadelphia neighborhood he’d come to appreciate the quietness of the suburb of fifty-four hundred residents.

Griffin maneuvered into Belinda’s wide driveway and shut off the engine. His dark mood lifted when he saw soft light coming through the first-floor windows. It was apparent Belinda hadn’t gone to bed. He rang the bell, waited and raised his hand to ring it again when the door opened and he came face-to-face with Belinda as she dabbed her face with a hand towel. Judging from her expression it was apparent that she was as shocked to see him as he to see her in a pair of shorts and a revealing tank top. And, with her freshly scrubbed face and headband that pulled her hair off her face, she appeared no older than the high school students to whom she taught American history.

“What are you doing here?” Belinda asked, her voice a breathless whisper.

Leaning against the doorframe, Griffin stared at the rise and fall of her breasts under the cotton fabric. He swallowed a groan when a part of his body reacted involuntarily to the wanton display of skin.

“I came to see if the...my daughters are okay.”

Belinda was surprised to hear Griffin refer to his nieces as his daughters. It was apparent he intended to take surrogate parenting seriously. “Of course they’re okay, Griffin. If you hadn’t run off you would’ve known that.”