Griffin brushed past her, walking into the entryway. “Sheath your claws, Belinda. What you should do is channel your frustration in an anger management seminar because we’re going to have to deal with each other until the girls celebrate their twenty-third birthday. You don’t like me and I have to admit that you’re certainly not at the top of the list for what I want in a woman.”

Belinda affected a brittle smile. “At least we can agree on one thing.”

“And that is?” he asked, lifting his expressive eyebrows.

“We won’t interfere in each other’s love lives.”

“You’re seeing someone?”

“Does that surprise you, Griffin?” she asked, answering his question with one of her own.

Belinda’s revelation that she was involved with a man came as a shock to Griffin. He never saw her with a man, so he’d assumed that she spent her nights at home—alone. “I hope you’re not going to schedule sleep-overs with your man now that the girls are living with you. It wouldn’t set a good example—”

“He’ll only come when the girls stay at your place,” she interrupted.

Griffin didn’t know where he’d gotten the notion that Belinda wasn’t seeing anyone. Although he would never admit to her that he was attracted to her in that way, it didn’t mean that other men weren’t. Earlier, he’d sat watching Jonathan Connelly unable to take his eyes off her. And Griffin didn’t blame the man because Belinda Eaton was stunning.

If she hadn’t been so unapproachable he would’ve considered asking her out. Even when they’d come together as best man and maid of honor for the wedding of their respective siblings, he’d thought her shy and reticent. But then he hadn’t expected more from a nineteen-year-old college student who’d lived on campus her first semester, then without warning moved back home, driving more than thirty miles each day to attend classes. When asked why she’d opted not to stay on campus, her response was as enigmatic as the woman she’d become.

Griffin remembered why he’d come to Belinda’s house. “May I see the girls?”

“I’m sorry. They’ve already gone to bed.”

He glanced at the clock on the table filled with potted plants. “It’s only nine-fifteen. Isn’t that a little early?”

“No, it isn’t, Griffin. My mother had a problem with getting them up on school days, so I’ve instituted a nine o’clock curfew Sunday through Thursday and eleven on Fridays and Saturdays.”

“That sounds a little strict, Belinda.”

“Children need structure.”

“Structure is one thing and being on lockdown is another.”

Belinda walked around Griffin and opened the door wider. “I don’t want to be rude, but you really need to go home, Griffin. I’m going to be up late grading papers, and hopefully I’ll be able to get a few hours of sleep before I have to get up earlier than usual to drive the girls to school. I need to stop in the school office to update their emergency contact numbers and bus route.”

After seeing that Layla and Sabrina had completed their homework, she’d eaten leftovers, applied a facial masque and sat in a tub of warm water waiting for it to set. By the time she’d emerged from the bathroom the girls had come to kiss her good-night. They’d gone to bed, while she would probably be up well past midnight.

Griffin heard something in Belinda’s voice that he’d never recognized before: defeat. Although they shared custody of their nieces, it was Belinda who’d assumed most of the responsibility for caring for them five of the seven days a week. And for the weeks when he had to travel on business, it would be the entire week.

“What time do your classes begin?”

“Eight. But I have a sub filling in for me.”

Griffin knew he had to help Belinda or she would find herself in over her head. It was one thing to raise a child from infancy and another thing completely when you found yourself having to deal with not one but two teenagers with very strong personalities.

“Let me help you out.”

Belinda stared at the man standing in her entryway as if he were a stranger. “You want to help me.”

Slipping his hands into the pockets of his suit trousers, Griffin angled his head. “Yes. I’ll take the girls to school and take care of the paperwork. That way you don’t have to have to miss your classes.”

“It’s too late to cancel the substitute.”

Attractive lines fanned out around his eyes when he gave her a warm smile. “Use the extra time to sleep in late.”

His smile was contagious as Belinda returned it with one of her own. “It sounds good, but I still have to get up and prepare breakfast.”

“Can’t they get breakfast at school?”

“Donna wouldn’t let them eat school breakfast because they weren’t eating enough fiber.”

“I’ll fix breakfast for them,” Griffin volunteered.

“It can’t be fast food.”

He winked at her. “I didn’t know you were a comedian. Why would I give them a fast-food breakfast when it has a higher caloric content and more preservatives than some cafeteria food? I’ll cook breakfast for them.”

Belinda hesitated, processing what she’d just heard. “You’re going to come here from Paoli tomorrow morning in time to make breakfast and take the girls to school?” The ongoing family joke was that Griffin Rice would be late for his own funeral.

“Yes.”

Belinda waved a hand. “Forget it, Griffin. I’ll get up and make breakfast and take them to school.”

“You doubt whether I’ll be here on time?”

She leaned closer. “I know you won’t make it.”

The warmth and the subtle scent of lavender on Belinda’s bared flesh wafted in Griffin’s nostrils, making him more than aware of her blatant femininity. For years he’d told himself that he didn’t like his sister-in-law because she was a snob—that her attitude was that she was too good for him because she came from a more prestigious family.

But in the past four months he saw another side of Belinda Eaton that hadn’t been apparent in the dozen years since they first met. Not only was she generous, but also selfless in her attempt to become a surrogate mother for her sister’s children. She had reconfigured the design of her house to accommodate the teenage girls. He hadn’t known she had a man in her life, and apparently that relationship would also change now that Layla and Sabrina were living with her.

“I’ll make it if I stay over.”

“You can’t stay here,” Belinda said quickly. “Have you forgotten that I no longer have an extra bedroom?”

She’d turned the master bedroom into the office/entertainment retreat for the twins and added half baths to the two remaining bedrooms. There was still a full bathroom on the second floor and a half bath off the kitchen, but with three females living under one roof everyone needed a bathroom to call their own.

Griffin affected a Cheshire cat grin. “I can always sleep with you.”

Belinda stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “You’re crazy as hell if you think I’m going to let you sleep in my bed with me.”

“And why not?” he asked quietly. “Aren’t we family, Aunt Lindy?”

“First of all I’m not your aunt. And secondly, you and I don’t share blood, therefore we’re not family. If you want to stay over then you’re going to have to sleep in the living room on the sofa. It converts to a queen-size bed and the mattress is very comfortable.”

“How would you know it’s comfortable?”

“I slept on it before my bedroom was completed.” Although she’d moved her bedroom from the second to the first floor she liked her new space because it was larger, airy and filled with an abundance of light during daytime hours.

Griffin nodded. “I’ll take your word that it’s comfortable, but if I wake up with a bad back then I’m going to hold you responsible for my medical expenses.”

“You won’t need a chiropractor after I walk on your back,” Belinda countered confidently. “My feet and toes are magical.”

He glanced down at her slender pedicured feet in a pair of thong slippers. Her feet were like the rest of her body—perfect. Belinda Eaton was physically perfect, yet so untouchable. He wondered about the man who’d managed to get next to her. There was no doubt he was nothing less than Mister Perfect himself.

“We’ll see,” he replied noncommittally. “I’m going to head out to Paoli, get a few things. Are you sure you’ll be up when I get back?”

“I have an extra set of keys you can use.”

“What about your alarm?”

“I won’t set it.”

“Set it,” Griffin ordered. “I’d feel better knowing you and the girls are protected by a silent alarm before I get back. Now, give me the password. Please,” he added when Belinda glared at him. He repeated it a couple of times aloud, then to himself. “I’ll bring back a set of keys to my place for you, and I’ll give you my password.”

Belinda turned and walked in the direction of the kitchen where she retrieved a set of keys to her house from a utility drawer. She returned to find Griffin standing in the middle of her living room staring at photographs on tables and lining the fireplace mantel. His gaze was fixed on one of himself, Grant and Donna together at an Eaton-Rice family picnic. It’d taken her weeks to come to grips that her sister and brother-in-law were gone and that she would never hear their laughter again. She’d put away all of their photographs, then caught herself when she realized that if she wanted to remember them, it would be best to see them smiling and happy.

“Griffin.”

Griffin turned when Belinda called his name, his expression mirroring the sadness and pain that returned when he least expected it. There had only been he and Grant, the two of them inseparable. Grant was two years older, but he never seemed to mind that he had to take his younger brother everywhere he went.

They were always there for each other throughout their triumphs and failures. Grant was gone, but his spirit for life lived on in the daughters he had called his “princesses.” Grant had asked him whether he’d take care of his “princesses” if anything ever happened to him and Griffin hadn’t hesitated when he said of course, unaware that a decade later he would be called upon to do just that. Grant had also revealed that Belinda Eaton had agreed to share guardianship of his children with him. He’d always thought Donna’s younger sister was shy and very pretty, but that had been the extent of his awareness of the young woman who’d been Donna’s maid of honor at his brother’s wedding.

Now standing several feet away wasn’t a shy, pretty girl but a very confident, beautiful woman who always seemed confrontational, something he’d never accept from other women. But he had to remember that Belinda Eaton wasn’t just any woman. She was now the mother and he the father to their twin nieces.

“Yes?”

Belinda held out her hand. “Here are your keys.” He took the keys suspended from a colorful Lucite souvenir from Hershey Park. “I’ll make up the sofa and leave a light on for you.”

Griffin nodded. “Thank you. I’ll lock the door and set the alarm on my way out.”

Belinda was still standing in the middle of the living room when she heard the soft beep that signaled that the alarm was being armed. In another forty-five seconds it would be activated.

Today she’d spent more time with Griffin Rice than she had since planning and rehearsing for her sister’s wedding. Her opinion of him hadn’t changed over the years. She still found him outspoken, brash and a skirt-chaser. What had changed was that she saw for the first time that he truly loved his nieces. His reference to Sabrina and Layla as his daughters really shocked her, and his volunteering to take them to school was a blessing. He’d stepped up to the plate much sooner than she’d expected he would.

Perhaps, she thought as she made her way upstairs to the linen closet, Griffin did have some redeeming qualities after all. What she didn’t want to linger on was how good he looked and smelled. He’d removed his tie and jacket and when she opened the door to find him standing there in just a shirt and trousers she discovered that her pulse beat a little too quickly for her to be unaffected by his presence, and at that moment she knew she was no different than the thousands of other women who lusted after the sports attorney who’d become a celebrity in his own right.

What Belinda had to do was be careful—be very, very careful not to fall victim to his looks and potent charm.

Chapter 3

Belinda woke as daylight filtered through layers of silk panels covering the French doors. Every piece of furniture and all the accessories in her bedroom were in varying shades of white. The absence of color in the bedroom was offset by the calming blue shades in an adjoining sitting/dressing room. Blue-and-white striped cushions on a white chaise, where she spent hours reading and grading papers, and a blue-and-white checked tablecloth on a small table with two pull-up chairs were where she usually enjoyed a late-night cup of coffee and took her breakfast on weekend mornings.

Stretching her arms above her head, she smiled when the sounds of birds singing and chirping to one another shattered the early-morning solitude. It was spring, the clocks were on daylight saving time and she’d spent the winter waiting for longer days and warmer weather after a brutally cold and snowy winter season. Rolling over on her side, she peered at the clock on the bedside table. It was six-thirty—the same time she woke every morning.

She’d just gotten into bed when she heard Griffin come in around midnight. She didn’t know why, but the notion of whether he slept nude, in pajamas or in his underwear made her laugh until she pulled a pillow over her head to muffle the sound. That was her last thought before she fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.

Sitting up, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and reached for the wrap on the nearby chair. Today was Thursday and she had a standing appointment with her hairdresser. Wednesdays were set aside for a manicure and pedicure and she planned to ask her nieces if they wanted to accompany her.

The house was quiet as she took the back staircase to the full bathroom on the second floor. Belinda hadn’t wanted to walk past the living room where Griffin slept. Her feet were muffled by the hallway runner as she made her way past the closed doors to Sabrina’s and Layla’s bedrooms. She’d told the girls to set their alarms, because she wasn’t going to be responsible for waking them up. Like Griffin, they also liked to sleep in late. It had to be a Rice trait.

Belinda didn’t linger. Having completed her morning routine, she left the bathroom the way she’d come, encountering the smell of brewing coffee. A knowing smile parted her lips. Griffin was up.

By the time she’d made up her bed, slipped into a pair of faded jeans, T-shirt and brushed her hair, securing it into a ponytail, the sound of footsteps echoed over her head. It was apparent her nieces had gotten up without her assistance. Donna had made it a practice to wake them up and the habit continued with Roberta.

When she and Donna were that age, Roberta had insisted that they set their alarm clocks in order to get up in plenty of time to ready themselves for school. Griffin had accused her of being rigid, while she thought of it as preparation for the future. No one would be coming to their homes to wake them up so they could make it to work on time.

* * *

Belinda walked into the kitchen to find Griffin transferring buckwheat pancakes from the stovetop grill onto a platter. The white T-shirt and jeans riding low on his slim hips made her breath catch in her throat. Her gaze was drawn to the muscles in his biceps that flexed with every motion. She regarded Griffin as a skirt-chaser, but after seeing him moving around her kitchen as if he’d done it countless times she realized he would be a good catch for some woman—provided he would be faithful to her.

“Good morning.”

Griffin glanced up, smiling. “Well, good morning to you, too.”

Belinda walked into the kitchen and sat on a high stool at the cooking island. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

He winked at her. “That’s because you don’t know me.”

She decided not to respond to his declaration. “How’s your back?” Belinda asked instead.

“Good. Remember when you banish your man to the couch that it’s not going to be much of a punishment.”

“When I have to put a man out of my bed he won’t end up on the couch but on the sidewalk.” She’d stressed the last word.

Griffin grimaced. “Ouch!”

Belinda slipped off the stool. “Do you want me to help you with anything?”

“I stopped at a twenty-four-hour green grocer and bought some fruit. I put it in the refrigerator, but if you prepare it for me I’d really appreciate it.”

Working side by side, Belinda washed and cut melon, strawberries and pineapple into small pieces for a fresh fruit salad while Griffin finished making pancakes. When Sabrina and Layla came downstairs, dressed in their school uniforms—white blouse, gray pleated skirt and gray blazer and knee socks—the kitchen was redolent with different flavors of fruit, freshly squeezed orange juice, pancakes and coffee for Belinda and Griffin. There was only the sound of a newscaster’s voice coming from the radio on a countertop as the four ate breakfast.

“I have an appointment for my hair this afternoon,” Belinda said, breaking the comfortable silence. She looked at Sabrina, then Layla. “Who would like to go with me?”

“I do,” Sabrina said.

“Me, too,” Layla chimed in.

“I’ll pick you up from school, and we’ll go directly from there to the salon. Make certain you bring your books so you can do your homework while under the dryer. Thursday is girls’ night out, so let me know where you’d like to eat.”

Belinda’s last class would end at two and the twins weren’t dismissed until three. The half-hour drive would afford her more than enough time to pick them up. However, if she ran into traffic, then she could call her mother to have her meet them. Layla peered over her glass at her uncle. “Even though it’s for girls, can Uncle Griff eat with us?”

Belinda stared at Griffin, silently admiring his close-cropped hair and the smoothness of his clean-shaven jaw. Mixed feelings surged through her as she tried to read the man sitting in her kitchen who continued to show her that there was more to Griffin Rice than photo ops with pro athletes, A-list actors and entertainment celebrities. His success in negotiating multimillion-dollar contracts for athletes was noteworthy, while his reputation for dating supermodels and actresses was legendary. A tabloid ran a story documenting the names of the women and a time line of his numerous relationships—most of which averaged six to nine months.

“I can’t answer for him, Layla.”

She smiled at her uncle. “Can you eat with us, Uncle Griff?”

Dropping an arm over Layla’s shoulders, Griffin kissed her mussed hair. “I can’t, baby girl. I’m going to see my folks before they leave on vacation.”

In their shared grief over losing their firstborn, his parents had become at sixty what they hadn’t been in their twenties—friends. Now they were embarking on a month-long European cruise they’d always planned to take for their fortieth wedding anniversary. Lucas and Gloria Rice’s marriage hadn’t survived two decades. However, both were older, wiser and sensible enough to know they couldn’t change the past, so were willing to make the best of the present.

“When are Grandma and Grandpa coming back?” Sabrina asked.

“They won’t be back until the beginning of May.” Griffin stared at the clock on the microwave.

Layla wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Are you going to fix breakfast for us tomorrow, Uncle Griff?”

“Your aunt and I agreed you would spend the weekends with me, and that means I’ll make breakfast for you Saturday and Sunday mornings.”

“I hope you don’t expect me to make pancakes every day, but I’ll definitely make certain your breakfasts will be healthy,” Belinda said when the two girls gave her long, penetrating stares. “As soon as you’re finished here I want you to comb your hair. Your uncle will drive you to school this morning.”

A frown formed between Layla’s eyes. She appeared as if she’d been in a wrestling match, with tufts of hair standing out all over her head. “I thought the bus was picking us up.”

Belinda stood up and began clearing the table. “Griffin will fill out the paperwork today changing your official address to this house. As soon as it’s approved, you’ll be put on the bus route.”

“Layla’s boyfriend rides the bus,” Sabrina crooned in a singsong tone.

A rush of color darkened Layla’s face, concealing the sprinkle of freckles dotting her pert nose. “No, he doesn’t!” she screamed as Griffin and Belinda exchanged shocked glances. “Breena is a liar!”

Resting his elbows on the table, Griffin supported his chin on a closed fist. “Do you have a boyfriend, Layla?” His voice, though soft, held a thread of steel.

Layla’s eyes filled with tears. “Stop them, Aunt Lindy.”

Belinda felt her heart turn over. Her sensitive, free-spirited niece was hurting and she knew what Layla was going through, because she’d experienced her first serious crush on a boy in her class the year she turned twelve. She’d confided her feelings to her best friend and before the end of the day everyone in the entire school, including Daniel Campbell, knew she liked him.

“If Layla likes a boy, then that’s her business, not ours.”

Griffin sat up straighter. “She’s too young to have a boyfriend.”

“But I don’t have a boyfriend,” Layla sobbed, as tears trickled down her cheeks.

Belinda rounded on Griffin. “Griffin, you’re upsetting the child. She says she doesn’t have a boyfriend.” She held up a hand when he opened his mouth. “We’ll talk about this later. Sabrina and Layla, I want you to finish your breakfast then please go and comb your hair. And don’t forget what I said yesterday about leaving clothes on the floor.”

Layla sprang up from the table, leaving her twin staring at her back. Sabrina closed her eyes. “I didn’t mean to make her cry.”

Belinda shook her head. “If you didn’t mean it then you shouldn’t have said what you said. Remember, Sabrina, that your words and actions have consequences.”

Nodding, Sabrina pushed back her chair. “I’ll tell her I’m sorry.”

Belinda closed her eyes for several seconds and when she opened them she found Griffin glaring at her. “What?”

“The girls can’t date until they’re eighteen.”

“Are you asking me or telling me, Griffin?”

He stared, not blinking. “I’m only making a suggestion.”

“I believe seventeen would be more appropriate.”

“Why?”

“By that time they’ll be in their last year of high school and that will give them a year to deal with the ups and downs of what they’ll believe is love. Then once they’re in college they’ll be used to the lies and tricks dogs masquerading as men perpetuate so well.”

Griffin’s expressive eyebrows shot up. “You think all men are dogs?”

Belinda rinsed and stacked dishes in the dishwasher. “If the shoe fits, then wear it, Griffin Rice. If a woman dated as many men as you do women, people would call her a whore.”

“I don’t date that many women.”

“Why, then, didn’t you sue that tabloid that documented your many trysts?”

“I don’t have the time, nor the inclination to keep up with gossip.”

Resting a hip against the counter, Belinda gave him a long, penetrating stare. “Are you saying what they printed wasn’t true?”

There came a lengthy pause before Griffin said, “Yes.”

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