Oh, Babies!

“I’m sorry, but my dislike for Mrs. Romani is such common knowledge around here that I sometimes forget most normal people don’t behave like this.”

“Why don’t you like her?”

Grant considered that. “It isn’t so much that I don’t like her. It’s more that she has an annoying habit of trying to control everything or run everybody’s life, or something.”

“She said approximately the same thing about you.”

He peered at her. “Really?”

“Yeah, she said you like to be the boss, you try to run everybody’s life and you always have to have your own way. So, she confronts you to more or less keep everything balanced.”

“Really?” he asked curiously.

“She doesn’t dislike you. I think she sees her belligerence as more self-defense than anything else. She doesn’t want to get swept up in the tidal wave. She sees you as being very…powerful, and not afraid to use that power.”

Carefully maneuvering the baby he held, Grant freed his right hand so he could rub it across the back of his neck. He didn’t know why it felt so good or so right to talk with this woman—actually, to confide in her as he’d never confided to anyone in his life—but it did. And he was too tired to fight it.

“I’m responsible for the lives of three babies, two brothers and now the wives of two brothers. We own the mill that employs fifty percent of the people in this county, and I’m putting in a shopping mall that will employ another thirty percent when it’s up and running. If all goes well, my construction company will pick up everybody who is left and even some people from surrounding counties. I don’t have time to stop and consider everybody’s feelings and everybody’s opinion.”

“Maybe you should.”

He stared at her. “How?” he asked incredulously. “Should I take a Gallop poll?”

She laughed at him again and his eyes narrowed. He should be angry with her for laughing at him. Instead he felt only breathless relief that he could actually talk about his burdens with an objective, independent listener.

“No, but you could try looking around every once in a while. Check for a grimace or a frown. Ask your brothers for an opinion here and there.”

“I do ask for my brothers’ opinions.”

“Do you take them into consideration?”

“Of course, I take…” He stopped. He honestly didn’t really know if he ever took his brothers’ opinions into consideration. He listened to them, then tossed them into the vat of information stored in his brain, which he assimilated in a certain fashion, then used to make decisions as he needed them.

“You don’t know, do you?” Kristen asked archly.

He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck again. What was he doing, confiding in a stranger? Yes, he knew it felt good to have somebody to talk with, especially someone objective, but this woman was only objective because she was a newcomer to his household. She was also an employee. No smart boss confided in his employees.

“No, I don’t know,” he replied. “And this conversation is over.”

“Can’t handle it?”

“No. It’s none of your business,” Grant corrected, rising and walking to a crib. “I’ve known you eight hours and I’ve already told you my deepest, darkest secrets.”

Following suit, Kristen also took her baby to a crib. “If those were your deepest, darkest secrets, Grant Brewster, you’ve got to get a life.”

The words sent an odd chill up Grant’s spine because they were exactly the thoughts he’d been having as he watched his baby brother get married.

Careful, cautious, he faced her. In her little pink sweater and a pair of loose-fitting jeans that knew exactly which parts of her anatomy to hug, Kristen Devereaux didn’t have a clue how much he really wanted to have a life—or at least some good old-fashioned excitement—with her.

Kristen seemed too damned young to have been married. She seemed too damned young not to have any family but a cantankerous old bat housekeeper she didn’t know. She seemed too damned young to be wise, and wonderful…and widowed.

Actually she was probably too damned young for him.

He took a long breath and blew it out. “Let’s go,” he said, motioning to the door. “Though the triplets usually sleep through the night now, there are no guarantees. There’s a monitor in your room and one in mine. First one to awaken has to get the kids. That’s the rule. So, I suggest that you go straight to your room and go straight to bed.”

Boy, he wished he hadn’t said that. Instant, graphic images of her sliding between satin sheets came to mind. He could see her hair fanned out on a pillow. He could envision her face softened in sleep. He could feel her nestled against him.

Oh, great! As if he needed to remind himself of the last image.

“Because that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’m going to shower—” in cold water “—and then I’m going straight to bed.”

He said the last as he led her into the hall and more or less pointed her to the bedroom she’d been assigned.

But as he shuffled off as if his feet were on fire, Kristen dallied in going to her room. When she heard his door shut with a very distinct and final click, she pivoted and ran down the hall, down the steps of the spiral staircase, through the foyer and kitchen and to Mrs. Romani’s door.

It opened immediately.

“Well?” the gruff-voiced housekeeper asked as she granted Kristen entry.

“I think everything went okay. But I didn’t actually make up a story like you told me to. We started talking and before I knew it I was explaining that my husband and sister had died.”

Mrs. Romani gasped in horror.

“I didn’t go into any kind of detail and he assumed that because my family had died I’d come looking for a long, lost relative—you.”

“ He came up with that?”

Kristen nodded.

Mrs. Romani grinned. “Oh, that’s rich.”

But Kristen frowned. “I don’t like fooling him. I don’t like fooling anybody.”

“That’s why this is so rich,” Mrs. Romani said, patting Kristen’s hand. “ You never told him anything. He made assumptions. Now we don’t have to make up a story. We can more or less behave like strangers getting to know each other, which we are. And we also don’t have to worry that he’ll ask too many questions because you told him you lost your family, and he’s very sensitive about loss.”

Kristen licked her suddenly dry lips. “I know.”

“He confided in you?”

“Little things. Bits and pieces,” Kristen clarifed uncertainly.

“Well, now,” Mrs. Romani said, and with a satisfied smirk directed Kristen to the door. “Sounds like everything will run smooth as clockwork. I don’t have anything to worry about. And you don’t have anything to worry about.”

But she did, Kristen thought, sneaking back to her room. She wasn’t a person who was built for deception, and she especially didn’t like deceiving someone as burdened as Grant Brewster. But more than that, they had feelings for each other. Not only were they instantly attracted, but they were instantly empathetic, because they’d gone through some similar situations. When he discovered who she was he was going to be insulted and angry, unless she kept their relationship distant or, if possible, nonexistent from this point forward so his level of betrayal would be lower than it would be if they became friends.

Since that was the logical choice, that’s what she intended to do. Keep her distance. Avoid becoming friends. Ignore the attraction.

Chapter Three

Kristen had the girls dressed in bright pink sweat suits and was feeding them breakfast when Grant came downstairs the next morning. Everything was under control until she looked up at the kitchen doorway in which he stood, then the spoon she held stopped midway to Taylor’s open mouth.

Not only was he wearing a neat black suit, white shirt and paisley tie, but he had shaved his beard. His beard. The one thing about him that could be construed as even remotely unattractive was gone. Replaced by a clean, smooth face of angles and planes so handsome and male that Kristen’s heart skipped a beat.

He caught her gaze and gave her a casual smile, but Kristen only stared at him.

“Good morning,” he said and walked into the room. “I saw that you had the kids up so I just got myself dressed. I hope it wasn’t a problem.”

“The children got me up about an hour ago,” Kristen said as she slid a spoonful of oatmeal into Annie’s mouth. Shaving his beard had taken her by surprise, but her reaction to him wasn’t new. The night before she’d decided to handle this, and she would. “Mrs. Romani helped me with breakfast.”

“I helped her prepare breakfast,” Mrs. Romani corrected, because—Grant knew—his short housekeeper with the overbleached hair and a sharp, crackly voice from cigarettes had no intention of letting anyone get the wrong impression. “As far as those babies go, she’s handled everything herself.”

“Really?” Grant asked, striding to the coffeepot, sternly stifling the tingles of awareness that were beginning to expand in his stomach. With Kristen’s sleep-tousled hair, and her curves clearly outlined by the soft flannel of her yellow robe, not only did she look cuddly and beautiful, but her genuine interest in the babies gave her an allure that couldn’t be matched by mere physical beauty.

But though the tingles of awareness yearned to turn into full-scale sexual arousal, Grant was determined not to let them. Kristen Devereaux was a woman with problems. He might not have clearly realized that the night before, but in the light of day everything had made perfect sense. She understood him because she understood loss. He was grieving his father, regretting his mistakes. She was grieving her husband and her sister. They were an emotionally wounded duo, who definitely, positively, absolutely shouldn’t get involved.

But beyond that, he wasn’t allowed to get involved with her. She was an employee. The complications that could result from the two of them becoming personal were too numerous to mention and too serious to be ignored. A wise man stayed the hell away from his employees. Period.

“Since Cody’s with Claire and Evan, there were only two babies for me to dress and feed,” Kristen said, bringing Grant back to the present as she set Annie’s spoon down and reached for Taylor’s. “Besides, the girls are sweet and well behaved.”

At that Grant involuntarily chuckled, but when Kristen gave him a puzzled frown he stopped laughing. “I’m sorry, I thought you were kidding.”

“Kidding?”

He shrugged. “Annie and Taylor are trouble with a capital T. Annie by herself is as lovable as a kitten. Alone, Taylor is a little lady. But put them together and they are holy terrors.”

“No, they aren’t,” Kristen objected, continuing to feed the kids.

Grant turned to Mrs. Romani. “Is she serious?”

Mrs. Romani tossed her hands as if exasperated to be brought into the discussion, but she said, “I haven’t ever seen the girls so quiet.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Grant said and walked over to the table in the breakfast nook. From the way Kristen seemed hesitant with the girls the night before, he wouldn’t have guessed her capable of taking care of the morning routine alone. He sat on the captain’s chair beside Kristen’s, leaning in to get a good view of what she was doing. Not only was she handling things much better than Grant would have guessed her able, but the girls had never been this well mannered. If there was a lesson to be learned here, he was willing to learn it.

“See?” Kristen said, spooning more oatmeal into Annie’s mouth. Like an angel, Annie obediently opened and closed her lips when required, while Taylor sat patiently, waiting for her turn.

Grant stared at them. “Amazing. How do you do that?”

“I don’t know,” Kristen said, but Grant noticed a blush stain her cheeks and he seriously wondered if she hadn’t done something this morning to get the girls to behave. If they were older he’d think she’d bribed them with a present.

Incredulous, Grant bent in closer. “Taylor, honey, don’t you want to put your bowl on your head and wear it like a hat?”

Taylor cocked her head and gave him a look as if to say she would never do something so naughty.

“Annie? No scream?”

Annie only giggled.

Mrs. Romani shook her head in bewilderment. “I’m telling you. She’s a miracle worker.”

“I am not,” Kristen objected, almost too vehemently.

Grant had his suspicions about how she’d gotten the children to be good, but he didn’t care if she had bribed them. As long as they were safe and happy, he wasn’t questioning anything.

“I think you’re a miracle worker,” Grant said, laying his arm across the back of her chair and finding himself in intimate proximity. Not only was he close enough to touch her, but those last three inches put him in the direct line of seeing her smooth, shiny hair up close. He also caught a whiff of her scent. A flowery bouquet hit him so unexpectedly, he didn’t stop himself from catching it.

The soft fragrance brought him spontaneous ecstasy and he automatically inhaled again. But he rationalized that he still didn’t have anything to worry about. So what if he’d inadvertently lingered over that scent a little longer than he should have? It didn’t mean anything. He had his perspective firmly grounded. He had no intention of getting involved with this woman. He simply had enjoyed her cologne. No big deal. In fact, he wouldn’t mind another whiff. As silently as possible, he sniffed the air, then narrowed his eyes in pleasure.

“Well, good morning, Grant,” Evan said, stepping into the room, carrying Cody.

Caught red-handed, Grant leaped out of the chair. “Evan!” he said, realizing too late that the move made him look even more guilty.

Evan gasped. “You shaved!”

Grant nonchalantly rubbed his clean chin. “I was tired of the beard.”

Big-eyed and incredulous, Evan grinned. “Really?”

“Really.” Grant mimicked, his eyes narrowing in warning.

Still grinning, Evan strolled a little farther into the kitchen. “Looks like you and Kristen are getting along very well…with the children.”

Though everyone else in the room appeared oblivious, Grant recognized that Evan had added enough of a pause in his statement to get in a pointed, inappropriate jab of teasing.

Mature, proper, Grant chose not to rise to the bait. He even knew how to nip his brother’s misconception in the bud. “Actually Kristen’s handled everything herself. I was just trying to figure out what she’d done to get the kids to behave so well this morning.”

“I could see that,” Evan agreed, the teasing still in his voice, and his eyes bright with the joy of tormenting his older brother. “The way you were leaning right in there, so close to Kristen…and the girls,” he said, again adding the second part of the statement after another significant pause. “I could see that you were trying to…figure out Kristen’s secrets.”

Grant glared at his brother. His first instinct was to call Evan a moron. Instead he picked up his coffee cup, gulped down the steamy liquid and strode toward the back door. For the love of God, the woman was young enough to be his…sister. Sister. Not daughter. He refused to say daughter. Refused. He wasn’t that old. Only thirty-six. And she had to be at least twenty-three. Maybe even twenty-four or twenty-five. To have been married and widowed, Kristen could even be a year or two older. She acted older. She looked older. Hell, she looked at least twenty-five….

He stopped himself. Was he arguing for or against her?

“And, really, Grant, you’re so much more attractive without the beard,” Evan said, still teasing. “Though I have to wonder why you didn’t shave for Chas’s wedding. That would have made more sense than waiting until after the ceremony and the pictures and everything. I wonder what could have happened since the wedding to change your mind.”

The more Evan needled him, the more obvious and idiotic Grant felt. If his brother had noticed the way he was carrying on, and deduced why Grant had shaved, then the only person Grant was fooling was himself. He needed to somehow regain his perspective, and he had to behave when he was forced to be around Kristen instead of letting unruly, hormone-driven instincts take over. No more confidence sharing. No more dressing to look better because she was around. And definitely no more sniffing the air.

He grabbed the doorknob. “I have meetings until noon, and I don’t think I can be back to help with lunch. Mrs. Romani, I want pot roast for supper.”

“Yes, sir,” Mrs. Romani said, saluting him as he stormed out of the door.

Kristen breathed a sigh of relief that he was gone, then rose and reached for Cody. “Hello, honey,” she cooed sweetly to the little boy.

He peered at her, his face puckered into a scowl, and before Kristen realized what was happening he began to cry.

“Oh, oh,” Evan said, taking Cody back again. “I think he’s making strange.”

“Making strange?” Kristen asked, alarmed that her own nephew wouldn’t like her, though she realized the poor kid couldn’t like someone he didn’t know.

“We spoil him,” Evan admitted with a grimace.

“There’s an understatement,” Mrs. Romani said, laughing as she began tidying up the kitchen.

Cody continued to cry and within seconds had both of his sisters wailing with him.

“There goes your run of good luck,” Mrs. Romani said wryly.

“As long as Grant didn’t see them, I don’t care,” Kristen said without thinking. She forgot Evan was as much of a consideration as Grant until the words were already out of her mouth. Stumbling to recover, she added, “Once I start playing with them, I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

Evan gave her a sympathetic look. “Not when they’re this wound up,” he said amiably, as if dealing with the kids was second nature to him and not something that got him flustered or frazzled. “I’ll call Claire and see if she can rearrange our schedules so that one or both of us can stay with you this morning.”

Kristen peeked at Mrs. Romani.

Mrs. Romani subtly nodded her endorsement that Kristen could take the offer without fear of reprisal.

The breath she was holding burst out in a whoosh. “You mean it?”

“Of course,” Evan said, walking to the wall phone by the door. Juggling Cody and dialing simultaneously, he added, “We’re all trying to work together here, but Grant’s the one with the most input. If he doesn’t like the way you’re handling the kids, he won’t keep you.”

Kristen smiled with sardonic acknowledgment. “I figured that out for myself.”

“Not a problem. We’ll teach you the ropes,” Evan said, dismissing the whole business as if it were no big deal. “Before this is all over, Claire and I will turn you into a professional.”

“You’d do that for me?”

He shrugged. “You and the kids.”

A wave of gratitude washed over Kristen until she realized what had just happened. Not only had she let down her guard with one of the brothers, but that same brother had put the health, safety and well-being of the triplets ahead of his business.

Kristen stopped that line of thought because that wasn’t precisely what he had done as much as it was her interpretation of what he’d done.

Besides, she wasn’t here to make any determinations about the Brewsters, whether or not they were good caretakers or whether or not she should feel guilty about wanting to get custody of the triplets. She was here to prove herself. Even if the only thing she could get from these men was the opportunity to take the kids to Texas long enough to get the ranch, she still had to prove to them that she was capable of handling three babies for the time they would be in her custody.

If anything, she’d just scored a strike against herself.

Dinner with the Brewster triplets was an adventure.

Though Claire had stayed with Kristen through the morning, and even helped with lunch, she needed to get back to the lumber mill and left Kristen alone to handle the afternoon by herself. Given that the children typically took a long nap, neither Kristen nor Claire felt there would be a problem, but the kids didn’t seem to want to sleep.

They wanted to play. And cry. And play. And cry. Because Kristen wasn’t sure if she should let them cry themselves to sleep, or play with them until they were exhausted, she tried a little of both and the result was that she confused them. Eventually all three children fell asleep, but none of them slept more than twenty minutes.

Since they hadn’t napped as long as they needed, they were exhausted by the time dinner rolled around, and all three were cranky and restless. The girls were so bad Evan and Claire took one look at them and knew Kristen couldn’t feed them alone.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

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

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