by Kaitlyn Rice
Smiling, Abby fitted her into the seat. “You’re just full of surprises,” she told Jack. “What else do you have in that bag? Anything for me?”
His grin got bigger, and he plunged his hand back inside. Abby gasped. She’d only been teasing, but apparently he wasn’t. He handed her a small beige box.
Biting her lip, she pulled out a heavy, tissue-wrapped item and removed its protective cocoon. It was a porcelain rosebud. Beautifully crafted, its shape was an exact replica of a Gemini rose. Someone had hand painted the apricot-and-pink tints, and it looked as if it had been plucked from the group of rosebushes near the front door.
“To commemorate a new beginning,” he said.
Abby was silent as she studied the flower. “It’s exquisite,” she finally said. “But I can’t accept it. You shouldn’t be buying me things.”
“It was nothing. And I won’t take it back to the store.”
“You keep it, then.”
His jaw tensed stubbornly. “It’s yours,” he insisted. “Give it to Rosie someday, if you don’t want it.”
Abby sighed in surrender and reached up to kiss him on the cheek, wondering as she drew close if he would still smell good. But he turned his head at the last minute, and their lips collided.
And held.
Even then it could have been a chaste kiss, but she’d also opened her mouth to whisper her thanks. So instead of a smack, it was an openmouthed stunner of a kiss.
His firm flesh slid against hers, nestling in with a sensuality that felt as hot and smooth as mulled apple cider on a brisk fall day.
She opened her eyes in shock.
And then closed them in pleasure.
And somewhere between her whisper and that first heady taste, she lost herself. The babbling babies faded into the background, and she was aware only of Jack’s pliant mouth and the long fingers he rested against her rib cage.
A few seconds later, he stopped. She knew he’d do so eventually, but she wasn’t ready yet. She needed more.
She put the rosebud on the table and stepped forward, grabbing his arms to pull them around her waist. Then she tried to grab his lips again, too, with hers.
He backed up about an inch to take a huge, gulping breath, and then plunged forward. Without warning, his mouth opened and his hot tongue dipped inside to tease hers with erotic circles.
A squeal punctured her bubble of euphoria.
Abby opened an eye to look at the twins. Wyatt was smiling at her as if he knew what he had interrupted, and he held his toy out by way of apology.
Absently, she pulled away and took the train, pushing it along on the tray and whispering, “Chuga chuga choo choo.”
When she found the courage to look at Jack again, he seemed just as addled.
“Man, I’m sorry,” he said as he shoved a hand through his hair. “Guess I was just curious.”
“We can’t do that again.” She wondered if her trembling voice was at all convincing.
“Of course not,” he said, a little too fast and much too agreeably.
She managed to make it through the rest of the afternoon without throwing herself in his arms again, but her disgusting lack of willpower had been aided by the fact that he’d taken Wyatt into his office and shut the door.
Living platonically with Jack should be easy. Taking care of the twins was work enough, and she had the greenhouse and orchards to keep up, too. She should have no time for anything else.
She needed to pin a copy of her plan to her brain, because so far she’d been too off-kilter to launch it.
Life in the country wouldn’t be boring, even to a big city boy, if she kept offering gratitude and sizzling kisses. No matter how homely and argumentative she made herself out to be.
And there was the little matter of the twins, and making Jack realize all of the sacrifices they required. It would be hard to make him feel incapable as long as he kept provoking delighted squeals from the babies with new toys.
When it was time to feed the twins their dinner, she knocked on his door, holding Rosie on her hip. The door swung open to reveal Jack sitting at his desk, attempting to assemble his computer with one hand. The other was wrapped around Wyatt, who was grabbing at wires with a gleeful expression.
She put a hand over her mouth to cover her chuckle with a cough, and then volunteered to feed both babies so he could work awhile longer.
His appreciation of the offer was apparent in his expression, but in actuality she wasn’t trying to be overly thoughtful. She just knew it’d be smart to avoid him.
The twins loved their new high chairs, and Abby celebrated a new milestone by serving them a treat of real mashed bananas. Always before, she’d had to feed them on her lap, one at a time. Having two high chairs made her job easier, and that alone was cause for celebration.
She wasn’t celebrating a darn thing else.
After the bananas were devoured, Abby put a teething biscuit on each tray, pointed the high chairs toward each other and made herself a turkey club sandwich. As she ate it leaning over the sink, Jack walked into the room.
She tried to ignore him as he opened the refrigerator and stood looking inside. The soft whoosh of the closing door was followed by approaching footsteps. When they stopped, she glanced to where he was standing. Covetous blue eyes were locked on her half-eaten sandwich.
“I haven’t bought groceries yet,” he said.
She took a bite. “Umm.”
He watched her chew. “That sandwich looks delicious.”
She swallowed and smiled. “It is.”
“I’d love to eat a sandwich like that about now.”
She took another bite. “Um-hmm.”
He frowned. “I can see you’re not going to offer, but maybe we could negotiate a deal.”
“What’s that?”
“You make me a sandwich like that and I’ll watch the babies for an hour while you do anything you want.”
“An hour?”
“Two hours,” he said. “One big sandwich for two hours.”
Abby kept the sandwich cradled in both hands, but she turned around to lean against the counter and look at Wyatt and Rosie.
They were covered in banana goop and biscuit sludge.
She remembered the making-him-feel-incapable clause of her plan, and nodded. “Deal,” she said. “But you have to give them a bath down here in your bathroom. The one upstairs will be in use.”
He immediately agreed and pulled a chair next to the twins to wait. Abby threw a man-size sandwich together on a paper plate and set it in front of him. She returned to the counter to put things away, but he stopped her.
“No, go on up,” he said. “I can clean up.”
Abby turned around again and frowned. He was offering to clean up, too?
“Hit the tub,” he said, pointing his finger skyward.
All of the cooperation was very nice. They were the perfect roommates…except for the way his eyes had marauded her body when he’d said the word tub.
Or the way she had thrilled at that heavy-lidded glance.
She’d even had the thought that she might be able to wait till later for her bath, so he could join her.
Then, shocked at herself once again, she suppressed the idea and practically sprinted out of the kitchen.
Good plan, she remembered, to get away from him. And as she started upstairs, she scarcely noticed the sound of his voice as he spoke softly to the babies about the wonders of a big, hearty sandwich. Her only thought was about luxuriating in a long, hot bath for the first time in a few days.
And she absolutely did not think about Jack downstairs, twenty feet away, as she stripped and stepped naked into the tub. Well, maybe just a smidgen.
By the time she came back down to get the babies and put them to bed, she’d already decided she would hole up in her room with a novel. There was no need to interact with him at all when the babies were asleep. Maybe she could buy herself a small television to set up in her room. She’d stay busy d
uring the day and stay away during the night.
Avoiding his charm should be easy, if she was clever.
IT WAS AN EXCELLENT IDEA, and it worked for a while.
Long days of constant work and skillful baby-care maneuvering passed by without any blatant displays of lust.
She tended to her plants; Jack tended to his computer. She shared her meals with him; he cleaned the kitchen for her. A couple of times she took the twins with her to run errands, allowing him a few hours of peace.
He returned the favor one afternoon by taking them with him to the barbershop. They all arrived home a few hours later with tamer curls and a new set of wooden blocks.
She couldn’t help noticing that Jack was more considerate than she’d expected, or that his gentle play with the twins was endearing. But at least she didn’t offer up her lips in gratitude.
She made sure of that, no matter how often she thought about it.
The idea probably would have worked much longer, except for one slight flaw.
The one about babies waking up at night. And crying.
Usually, Abby could quiet a baby’s cry within moments, and usually, the twins woke one at a time. But not always.
Early Friday morning, Rosie woke and began a long, angry wail that sounded hungry. Abby ran to the nursery to pick her up, hoping to avoid waking Wyatt.
She sat in a rocker and cuddled Rosie, reaching over to plunk a bottle in the warmer at the same time. Rosie quieted, and was contentedly playing with Abby’s braid and enjoying her bottle when Wyatt woke up.
He began with a whimper that rose to a cry within seconds. Abby carried Rosie and the bottle to Wyatt’s crib, hoping to soothe him.
It wasn’t often that she had to feed both babies at once, but she’d done it before. She kept talking to Wyatt, but dashed over to put another bottle in the warmer.
“Need some help in here?”
Her eyes flew to the doorway, where Jack was standing in a pair of well-worn gray sweatpants and not much else.
“No, I can handle it,” she answered. She doubted that Jack had heard her, though, since Wyatt’s cry had grown to a full-scale bellow.
Jack said something she couldn’t hear, and came into the room. She stared at his chest as she sank back down in the rocker. He stopped right beside her, providing a scrumptious view of a lean, flat torso. He pointed toward the bottle warmer.
She pulled her eyes away from places they didn’t belong and grabbed the second bottle. “I’m calling this ready,” she hollered. “Will you feed Wyatt?”
He nodded, swooped the boy out of his crib and over to the second chair, and whistled in relief when Wyatt quieted. “This must be why there are two rockers in here,” Jack said.
He was far too civil for someone who’d been awakened at five o’clock in the morning.
She didn’t even answer. She didn’t know which was more embarrassing, her shortsightedness for not putting on a robe, or her reaction to seeing him without one.
Good thing Wyatt was there, on his lap, to make Jack think she was looking at the baby. Good thing Rosie was on her lap, too. If she propped the baby up just right, her chest was covered. Maybe he wouldn’t notice her embarrassing state of…well, titillation.
He wasn’t talking much, either.
She wondered what Mr. Man-About-Town thought about the past week of domestic bliss. Maybe he found it boring, which should be a good thing.
There was the plan and all.
Rosie finished first, so Abby patted her back to let out the bubbles, and went to lay her back in her crib. As soon as she did, she wished she had something to hold, because now she was wandering around the nursery with nothing on but a pair of bikini panties and a long cotton T-shirt.
She felt silly.
She felt naked.
She felt turned on.
But Jack seemed to be concentrating on Wyatt, and completely unaware of her discomfort. Except for the couple of times when his focus seemed to move past the baby to her chest and down her legs. Then he looked a little disturbed.
She hoped he was. Plan or no plan.
DON’T THINK ABOUT ABBY that way—she’s your roommate. Her breasts are not luscious. All right, even if they are, she’s not reacting to you. She’s probably cold. Of course her legs would look like that—she makes her living working outside. They are not sexier than any you’ve ever seen. Diane’s legs are longer. Abby’s are just better toned.
Don’t think about her that way…
Jack wished he could stop sneaking peeks at Abby. He was glad she couldn’t read his mind, because she’d probably think he was depraved, noticing her body when they were both in here feeding the babies.
It had been a long time since his hormones had raged on ahead of his brain, no matter how many sexy female parts were paraded around in front of him.
With Abby, the entire package was alluring. The thought of those clever brown eyes glittering into his from up close seemed just as enticing as her parts.
Maybe his problem was that he hadn’t had to deny himself for so long. This living arrangement was not a great idea.
He needed to get out and find a date.
“Abby, I can finish with Wyatt,” he whispered. “Go on back to bed.”
“Are you sure?” she asked.
Her arms were wrapped around her waist. Did she know her T-shirt pulled across her chest when she did that? She must, because she abruptly dropped her hands to her sides and formed them into fists. Maybe she was just as uncomfortable as he was.
A pain tore at his chest, and Jack looked down to find Wyatt’s fingers full of hair and his tiny mouth grinning.
Which meant he wasn’t drinking, and Jack had been too busy noticing Abby’s parts to realize he was done.
Abby still wasn’t leaving—hadn’t he suggested that?
“You can go on back to bed, Abby,” he said more loudly as he unwrapped Wyatt’s fist from his chest hair. “I can do this.”
“I asked if you were sure,” she reminded him with a smile.
She turned around and fiddled with Rosie’s blankets, giving him a provocative view of her backside.
He’d never seen her with so few clothes on, but he’d always been fascinated by that bottom. Now he could see the absolute lusciousness of those legs, almost up to a place that was even more luscious. “I’m completely sure,” he said through gritted teeth. “Go back to bed.”
“If he won’t go down, just tap on my door,” she said on her way out.
Oh, sure, I’ll just tap on your door and join you in bed, he thought, and groaned out loud.
She popped her head around the door. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” he grumbled. “Wyatt’s fingers got tangled up in my chest hair in a tender spot.”
She flew back into the room. “Did you get the hair off his fingers?”
“Yesss! It’s off,” he bellowed. “Go to bed.”
They both looked at Rosie, who nestled her cheek into the crib mattress and made a soft little sigh. Abby put a finger to her lips and tiptoed out.
Finally.
Jack resisted the urge to breathe a sigh of relief.
Instead, he whispered to Wyatt, “Women become complicated when you’re my age, little man. Enjoy them now when things are simple.”
Wyatt yawned and stretched both arms in the air, and Jack spent a few minutes exploring various burping methods before he found the one that worked.
Then he followed Abby’s example. He took Wyatt over to the crib and laid him down. After pulling a downy yellow blanket over the boy’s body, he backed away.
Wyatt’s face crunched into a frown. He drew in a gulping breath. And Jack flew back to the crib and scooped him up.
There was no way he could handle seeing Abby again. If the babies cried, she’d be back here in a flash—flaunting those flirty parts and asking how she could help. There was only so much temptation a man could take, and Jack couldn’t navigate around Abby for another second.
Pushing the lever to tilt the chair into a reclining position, Jack settled Wyatt against his chest and closed his eyes. He would just rest here until the baby was deeply asleep.
Then he could put him in his crib and head downstairs.
Just a few minutes. That’s all it should take.
“JACK, WHAT ARE YOU DOING up here?”
He opened his eyes to find Abby’s most indignant expression furrowing her face.
Fully dressed now, she stood in front of him in her favorite hands-on-hips pose.
As uncomfortable as last night had been, it had at least been fair. Now he was the only half-naked adult in the house.
“Guess I must’ve dozed off,” he said, leaning forward to release the chair’s lever. As he stood, he realized his arms were empty.
Horrid visions filled his head of Wyatt slipping off his lap and scooting his way to the top of the stairs. Tumbling down. Disappearing into the darkness of the countryside.
“Where’s Wyatt?” he asked, noting the baby gate now blocking the doorway. “Is he all right?”
Abby pointed.
Wyatt was on the floor of the nursery, pushing around a jingling ball with one hand, and propping himself up on the other. “He’s going to be crawling in no time,” Abby said.
Rosie was near her brother, batting at a plush orange giraffe.
“Why’d you sleep up here?” Abby asked again, more quietly.
He looked at her sheepishly. If he admitted that he didn’t know how to put a baby down to sleep, she’d never let him try again. But if he didn’t, she wouldn’t teach him.
“Wyatt started bawling when I put him in his crib, and I didn’t want him to wake Rosie,” he explained. “I only meant to stay till he fell asleep.”
Abby’s chuckle floated through the nursery, filling the air and meshing with the sounds of the babies’ babbling play. It sounded very right.
He grinned, too, enjoying her laughter.
