Twin Ties, Twin Joys: The Boss's Double Trouble Twins / Twins for a Christmas Bride / Baby Twins: Parents Needed

It had been a long time since he’d worked in an office environment and he hadn’t realized how much Darcy had helped transition him back into the groove until she wasn’t there to help him anymore. He needed her here.

He needed her here for purely selfish reasons, but that wasn’t all. He’d thought that they would talk more about his idea. He’d had this feeling from the first that marriage was the only way to solve their problems, and he’d resisted because it went against everything he’d planned for his life. But the more he’d thought about it, the more he’d realized it might be an answer for them both.

He’d seen men out in the field who had cracked up over time. The work he did out there was stressful, to say the least. It wouldn’t hurt to have an anchor at home, something to help keep him on an even keel. He’d never known a woman he could even remotely imagine marrying. But Darcy—well, she was different. Maybe … maybe it would work with her.

He hadn’t taken her vehement rejection of his idea too seriously. She hadn’t had time to think it over yet. If she were here, they could talk it over and find a way to make it work. If she wasn’t here, they couldn’t do a thing about it. He needed her here.

That laugh again. He shuddered. Turning to his computer screen, he did a search on “Noise canceling headphones.” Hmm. It was a possibility.

“Mitch?”

Skylar came in, looking coy. “I hate to bother you, but the manager out at Bermuda Woods just called and he says there’s a document missing from the final packet.”

Mitch shrugged. “So find it and get it out to him,” he said dismissively.

She hesitated, then smiled flirtatiously. “He told me a bunch of stuff but I can’t figure out what he’s talking about. I thought maybe we could work on it together. I could really use your help.” She looked hopeful.

Mitch frowned. “I’m not up to speed on that project, either.” He sighed resignedly. “Okay, we’d better call her.”

Skylar blinked. “Call who?”

“Darcy Connors, of course. She knows everything about this stuff.”

“Oh.” Skylar didn’t look enthusiastic.

“Dial her up.” He waved her toward the phone. “Let’s get her input.”

Skylar sighed big. “Okay.”

She looked up Darcy’s number and pushed the numbers on the phone.

“Oh darn, it’s her machine,” she told Mitch, waving the receiver in the air.

“Well, leave a message,” he said impatiently.

“Oh. Okay.” She put the receiver to her ear. “Hi, Darcy, honey. It’s Skylar—at the office? Mr. Carver—Mitch—he would like to talk to you about—um—the Bermuda Woods development. He has some loose ends he wants to discuss. Please call us back. Okay? Thanks. See you soon, honey.”

Mitch scowled and glanced at his watch. “If she doesn’t call in half an hour, call her again,” he ordered gruffly.

Skylar tossed back her fire-engine-red hair, looked like she was going to launch into a diatribe, then stopped herself when she caught the expression on his face. “Whatever,” she said, rolling her eyes and flouncing out of the office.

Mitch’s teeth were on edge again.

“Whatever,” he echoed dully, staring out his window at the growing storm clouds. “Whatever it takes,” he added more softly, his gaze sharpening. He needed a plan. He was a man of action, wasn’t he? All right then. He would come up with a plan. How hard could that be?

Darcy sat in Mimi’s kitchen listening to the message as Skylar gave it. There was no way she was picking up the phone to take the call. She was going to stay strong, even though she knew Mitch was right there, just seconds away. She’d promised she would take calls and help when needed. And she planned to be available by the end of the week. But not now. It was too soon. She and Mitch both needed to get used to the reality of her not being in the office. She couldn’t think of anything that couldn’t wait a few days. So she was standing pat.

She hadn’t realized it would be this hard. She’d managed to remove Mitch from her daily life physically, but there didn’t seem to be any way to push him out of her mind.

Still, she was having fun with the twins. Tonight she was making pizza and had games and songs ready. Tomorrow she was taking them to the park. If only she wasn’t haunted every step by thoughts of how much Mitch would like these little guys—if he ever let himself.

That night it rained hard for a while. A little thunder. A little lightning. After checking on her babies who were sleeping through the turmoil, Darcy snuggled under her covers and listened to the storm. Was Mitch awake, too? Was he lying there, just a few miles away, staring at the ceiling of his room and thinking of her? For just a moment she could imagine reaching out and making a magical connection. She shivered delightfully, then closed her eyes and dreamed of him.

The next day she ignored another phone message from Skylar—the third one, and packed the boys into the car, taking off for the park. They had a wonderful, if tiring couple of hours, stopped for icecream cones on the way home, which turned the inside of her car into a sticky zone, then headed for home.

She knew something was wrong right away. For one thing, Mitch’s car was standing out in front of her house. But even more ominous, a moving truck was coming out of her driveway and taking off just as she drove up. She looked back. The two boys were sound asleep in their car seats. She debated leaving them there for a few minutes, then decided against it. You just couldn’t be too careful where these young lives were concerned.

That meant she had to take time lugging both car seats into the house. The boys didn’t wake up, so at least she got a break there. She left them on the floor of their room with their seats tilted back into sleeping position, and hurried back into the living room to see what the heck was going on.

She could see his car still parked at the curb, but there was no sign of him outside. So that meant he was probably inside somewhere, but where? The garage was her next target, but it was standing empty. She frowned. Maybe the converted sunporch on the side of the house. She hurried to it and opened the wide French doors that led onto the porch. And there he was.

“Hi,” he said, leaning back in his desk chair. “I’ve been waiting for you. Where’ve you been?”

She gaped at him in consternation, then went down the three steps to his level. He was looking like the cat that ate the canary, very bright-eyed and full of himself, and he was surrounded by an instant office that he must have set up in the short space of time she’d spent out with the boys.

“What in the world …?” she muttered, in shock as she looked at the sparkling glass desk, equipped with a trendy slender notebook computer, printer, fax and copy machine—even his trademark big jar of jelly beans. A huge metal file cabinet sat beside the desk. All the comforts of the office gleaming attractively.

“How did you get in here?” she demanded.

He raised one eyebrow. “Please, Darcy. It’s a basic requirement of my profession to know how to get into locked places.”

Of course. She knew that. But … but … he wasn’t supposed to get into her locked places!

“You couldn’t wait until I got home?”

“No. The moving van was on a tight schedule.”

“Moving van …” She could hardly talk. In her wildest dreams she had never expected this. “But why?”

“Would you believe that my parents kicked me out? Just like high school.”

She shook her head, unable to compute what he’d just said. “Kicked you out of what? It’s the middle of the day.”

He shrugged. “I was only kidding. Actually I left voluntarily. I couldn’t take another day in that house.”

It was only then that she noticed a large cot had been added to the wicker decor of the room. She stared at it for a moment, taking in the big fluffy comforter and the pillow with teddy bears parading across its case. She turned back to look at him. He hadn’t just moved in his work-a-day operation, he’d moved in his entire life.

“You’ve completely moved in?” she cried, reeling from the implications.

He nodded casually, as though this were nothing outrageous. “I had to go somewhere.”

She glared at him and waved one arm in the air. “Then set up a bed at the office. Your real office.”

He shook his head firmly, as though she just didn’t understand the circumstances and would agree if only she did. “I also couldn’t stand another day at that office. Not while Skylar walks those echoing marble halls.”

She blinked, confused. “Skylar? What’s wrong with Skylar?”

He grimaced painfully. “Have you ever tried to work with her? If you had, you wouldn’t need to ask.”

“She … she …” Somehow she couldn’t go any further than that one word.

But he took up the slack without missing a beat. “I was in a quandary. I couldn’t work, I couldn’t think, I couldn’t sleep. So I decided the best plan of action was a direct trek to your house. I brought all the stuff I need to work. And I figure I’ll camp out here for the duration.”

“No.” She was shaking her head. This was impossible. He was impossible. Life, at the moment, was impossible. “Oh, no, you won’t.”

He sighed as though her lack of a charitable response pained him deeply. “I won’t be in your hair constantly. I promise. I’ll be over here, out of the way. But when I need you for something, I can call you over and—”

“This is just typical of you, isn’t it?” she demanded with fury, leaning toward him across the desk. “You see everything through the same prism—what would be best for you. Did it ever occur to you that I might have other priorities right now?”

He looked puzzled. “No, actually. I thought maybe you’d be glad for the company. Time can really drag when you’re required to talk nothing but baby gibberish all day.”

“How would you know?”

He half laughed. “Darcy, I keep trying to make you understand that I’ve got a broad experience with the ways of the world. I know a lot. About everything.”

“Even children.”

“Well, probably not as much as you.”

“Oh my goodness, what an admission,” she said sarcastically. “Well, you’re guaranteed to learn a lot more about children than you’ve ever wanted to know if you think you’re staying here,” she warned.

He actually looked surprised. “Not if you keep them in their play area. This is a work area.”

She stared at him. Was he for real? “I’m warning you, Mitch. The kids will not be kept out of your way. The kids are center stage in this house. If you want a pure work environment, go back to work.”

He took a deep breath and obviously decided not to say what first came trippingly to his tongue. “It’s good that we’re discussing this,” he said unconvincingly. “This way we can work to establish the parameters of our working relationship.”

She couldn’t believe he could be such a dunderhead. “Mitch, get a clue! There’s no working relationship. I’m here mothering and you’re intruding.”

“Darcy, calm down. This is all for the best, believe me.”

That did it. She’d never been so furious. Reaching out she grabbed his newly installed phone and began punching buttons.

“What are you doing?” he asked pleasantly, still leaning back in the desk chair as though all was well with his world and her anger was just a minor passing squall.

She glared at him. “I’m calling the police. I’ve got an intruder in the house.”

“Oh. Good idea.” He smiled at her. “Did I get a chance to tell you my cousin Daniel just made captain of the Terra Dulce Police Force? Oh, and Justin Cabrera, my best friend from kindergarten is on the day desk these days. You’ll probably talk to him first. Tell him ‘hi’ for me, okay?”

She stared at him for a moment as she digested this news, then slammed down the phone. “What—does your family own this town?”

He grinned. “Let’s just say the Carvers have impact in Terra Dulce. Always have. Funny, I hated that when I was growing up. Now I’m finding it can come in quite handy.”

She wanted to wring his neck. She looked at it, imagining her fingers there, slowly tightening. But that proved self-defeating. Touching his neck would quickly turn into something sensual. There was just no escaping the fact that the man turned her on.

“You’re impossible.”

“That’s probably true.” His face softened. “Aw, come on, Darcy. Grin and bear it. It won’t be so bad.” He waited a moment and when he didn’t see any relenting on her part, he sighed. “Okay, I should have called first. I should have warned you what I was planning. But you would have marshaled your forces against me, wouldn’t you?”

She gave him the barest of assenting nods.

“I have no idea how many muscular bruiser guys you could have invited over to take a whack at me. I didn’t think it was worth risking, when I’m so sure you’re going to be glad I move in when all is said and done.”

“Really?”

“You wait and see.” He tried to coax a smile from her. “I had to do this. I wasn’t getting anything done without you. And if I’d been locked up with Skylar much longer, I would probably have to start pricing cement shoes.”

The thought almost made her smile, but she managed to control it. “For her or for you?” she asked.

He grinned and she could see that he thought she was weakening. And darn it all—he was probably right. After all, he was so … installed. She didn’t have a clue how she could pry him loose. And she heard the boys beginning to stir.

And, truth to tell, there was a little place down deep in her heart that was glad he was here. That just showed that she was losing it.

“Just for one night,” she warned him as she left to take care of her babies.

“We’ll see,” he said, cocky as ever. “Maybe having me around will grow on you.”

“Yeah, right,” she said dryly. But she was already out of earshot by then. And she had a silly smile on her face. This was just plain hopeless.

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE funny thing was, despite everything, Mitch was getting more work done here than he had at the office. He could hear Darcy in the other room, talking to her babies, doing housework, playing a CD and singing in that great bluesy voice for the children. It was … sort of nice. Something about being this close to Darcy seemed to put his mind at rest in a strange way.

But maybe he was making too much of it. Probably it was just that he no longer had to waste time wondering how he was going to get her back at work. Now he’d taken work to her. So that problem was solved.

He worked through the afternoon. Darcy stopped by while the babies were down for a nap. He looked up to see her standing behind the French doors and he motioned for her to come on in.

“How’s it coming?” she asked him. She looked a bit edgy, as though she couldn’t get used to his being here in her house. That seemed so different from the reaction he was having, he had to smile, but it did make him a little sad. If only she could accept his good intentions, things would go more smoothly.

“Great. I’m going gangbusters here. But I could use a little feedback from you.”

She hesitated. “All right,” she conceded, dropping into a chair across the desk from him. He got her to help composing a letter, then made her run through some options on a real estate campaign he’d been asked to give some input on. She responded willingly enough, then looked at all his equipment in wonder.

“How did you get all this stuff in here so quickly?” she asked him.

He smiled. “I hire good people. That’s why I need you.”

She made a face at him. “Too much flattery and I’ll stop believing it,” she warned.

He laughed. “That’s what I like about you, Darcy. You’re about the most honest person I know.”

A small smile trembled on her lips. “So I’ve got you fooled, at least,” she murmured.

He grinned, leaning forward. “Listen, I want to get started on the Heartland submission. You know the right people. You know what has to be done to win the competition for the job. I’d like you to start working up an outline of our game plan.”

Her gaze was hooded and it was a moment before she answered him. “What makes you so sure I want you to win?” she asked.

That set him back on his heels. It had never occurred to him that she wouldn’t be in his corner. He frowned, studying her face.

“Why wouldn’t you want me to win?”

She licked her lips. “This development is going to take years. You don’t plan to be here that long.”

He nodded slowly. She had him there. “You’re right. I don’t.”

A spark of something that looked very much like outrage flashed in her eyes. “Then why on earth are you so intent on winning it?”

He drew in a deep breath. He couldn’t tell her that. He couldn’t even articulate his reasons in words to himself. He knew the feelings involved. Oh brother, did he ever know them. But that wasn’t something he could communicate to her. He wouldn’t know where to begin.

He knew it had something to do with proving himself to his father. And it had a lot to do with wanting to make sure Ned Varner didn’t get the contract. But there was more there. Maybe someday he’d be able to articulate it.

“My reasons don’t matter,” he said at last, trying to sound crisp and logical. “What I want to do is prove I can do it if I put my mind to it.”

“And then you’ll walk off and leave the rest of us to pick up the pieces?”

“No.” He frowned, realizing she was dealing with much more than what she was actually expressing in words. There was too much emotion in her voice for this just to be about the Heartland Project. “I’ll set up a team and give it a vision. I would never abandon a project like that. The groundwork will be laid. I’ll do it right.”

There were bright red spots on her cheeks. She rose stiffly. “Talk to me again when you’re serious,” she said.

“I’m very serious,” he responded. But she walked away.

He frowned, somewhat baffled by her behavior. She was upset and he wasn’t completely sure why. Oh, he had some idea that it had something to do with him and her lack of faith in his staying power. But that fear wasn’t based on anything real. She would see that soon, and her misgivings would pass. He really did need her for this project.

Pushing that concern away, he went back to work on some other things he’d been assigned, and a few items he’d taken up on his own. After all, if he was to make an impression in this job, he had to go way beyond the bottom line expectations. Way beyond. Otherwise, what was he here for?

An hour later he was agonizing over a flow chart when he felt something. The hair prickled on the back of his neck. He definitely had the sense of being watched. Maybe Darcy had undergone a change of heart and was hesitating just outside the room.

Turning quickly, he looked up at the wide French doors, expecting to see her there. Instead he found two sets of blue eyes gazing down at him, plus the dark brown eyes of the dog.

“Hi guys,” he said, waving at them.

The only one who responded was the dog, who wagged his tail enthusiastically. The boys didn’t move a muscle. He stopped waving. Par for the course. Dogs always did like him. He seemed to be striking out with little boys however.

Suddenly Darcy appeared. He stopped dead and stared at her. She was wearing tight blue jeans and a black V-neck shirt that plunged to reveal a lot of nice cleavage. Her hair was loose and flying about her face. She looked deliciously sexy. Staring at her, he felt an odd quivering inside. As though she’d read his mind, she threw him a glance so piercing, it might have turned a lesser man to stone. Then she herded the boys and dog away from the window. He watched for a few more minutes, but only the dog came back.

Suddenly he felt a little lonely. It was almost time to call it a day. He contemplated throwing in the towel for now and going in to the main house to join them, but then he remembered that he hadn’t been invited to do that. It might be prudent to wait until he was asked. So he got back to work. He had to do something to pass the time, after all.

Half an hour later he looked up and the boys were at the door again. That made him smile, even though their faces were still stuck on deadpan. They were obviously checking him out. And good for them. He had to admit, they were a pair of darn fine-looking kids—even if he did say so himself.

“Good genes,” he muttered to himself proudly. He waved at them. They stared. He sighed.

“Where’s the dog?” he called to them.

But they didn’t answer. And when he looked up again, they were gone.

It was almost an hour later when Darcy came to ask him if he would like to join her for something to eat.

“I’ve put the boys to bed,” she told him. “So they won’t bother you.”

“They don’t bother me.” He gazed at her steadily. “Darcy, I like kids. Don’t pretend I’m a monster.”

She finally smiled. “Good,” she said. “Now come on before the stroganoff gets cold.”

He loved stroganoff. She’d set places at the kitchen table. Red napkins. Blue plates. He was gratified when she brought out a bottle of white wine and poured two glasses. At least she was going to let this seem like a real meal and not a grudge feeding of necessity. She was still wearing the tight pants and the low-cut shirt and he was feeling definitely warm and toasty all around. He raised his glass.

“To women who brighten our lives,” he said.

“To men who bully and manipulate,” she countered, clinking before he had a chance to draw away.

“That was sneaky,” he protested, but he didn’t pursue it. Things seemed to be going well right now. No reason to rock the boat.

The food was great, from the creamy stroganoff on pasta to the leafy green salad and the cherry cobbler for dessert. They chatted inconsequentially, falling back into the pattern of banter threaded through more serious conversation they had developed in Paris. By the end of the meal, Darcy was laughing and looking as relaxed and happy as he’d ever seen her. And he was burning to take her in his arms.

But he couldn’t do that. Not only would it complicate matters, it would probably result in her kicking him out on his ear, and he didn’t relish sleeping in his car tonight.

He stayed in the kitchen and helped her with the dishes and they talked about ACW, and then about what he’d been doing all these years, staying so far away from Texas.

“Tell me about your work overseas these last few years,” she said, handing him a stack of plates to put away in an upper cabinet.

“What about it?” He reached high and confidently slid the plates into place for her.

She leaned against the counter, watching him. “What is it that draws you so strongly to it? How did you get this way?”

He put away his drying towel, then leaned against the counter facing her. “You know that I joined the Army after my freshman year of college,” he said.

She frowned. “I thought you had a degree.”

“I got that later with the Army’s help,” he said. “I was in Special Forces for eight years. By then I was ready for a change, so I got out and joined a firm that does security work all over the world.”

She nodded. “Okay, I knew that. My impression is that you were doing pretty much the same thing you’d done in the Army, only getting paid better.”

He grinned. “That was just about it.”

“So would you call what you do being a mercenary?” she asked tentatively, as though she was afraid he might take offense at the term. And in truth, he did.

“A mercenary?” he repeated, distorting the word a bit. “No. Being a mercenary has ugly connotations, like being a gun for hire. That isn’t what we do at all. We’re more like …” He thought for a moment, then went on. “Well, like a civilian rescue service. In many countries there is a huge gulf between the very rich and the rest of the population. There are all kinds of outlaws who think the rich are like fat, vulnerable piggy banks, and kidnapping is the way to open the vaults. It’s practically a major industry in some countries. Family members are always being kidnapped and held for ransom.” He gave her his quirky smile. “We specialize in getting them back.”