The Baby Invasion (Destiny Bay-Baby Dreams)

by Conrad, Helen

Scott watched. Despite everything, this was a picture that tugged at his heartstrings. The love was pure and intense. Had he ever loved anything—or anyone—like this?

  It was beautiful to see. What would it be like to feel?

  “Hey,” came the voice again from over the fence. “If you don’t come back right now, I’m going to leave.”

  “Just a minute,” Scott said without looking her way. “Is he okay?” he asked Cathy, not because he was really worried. More because he wanted to see those big blue eyes turned his way again.

  Her smile was glowing. “He’s fine. So fine.” She gave him one last squeeze. “And so very, very bad.”

  Dropping him gently to the ground, she gave him a pat on his well-padded rear. Then she turned back to Scott, her eyes still alight with gratitude. “I can’t thank you enough for catching him that way. If you hadn’t been there...”

  Tawny’s patience had worn to a tatter. “All right! All right! I’m going to leave!” she threatened from over the fence.

  Scott looked at her, frowning as though it was taking him some readjusting to remember just exactly who she was.

  “So soon?” He shrugged. “Well, if you’ve gotta go, you’ve gotta go. Why don’t you pick up a couple of those steaks on your way out? They should be about ready by now.”

  Fury contorted her face, and then it disappeared.

  Cathy bit her lower lip to keep from laughing. “I’m sorry if I ruined your date.”

  He wasn’t sorry at all. For some reason, the warmth of the domestic Cathy seemed much more enticing than ten sexy Tawnys could ever be. He had a momentary pang of guilt over Tawny’s feelings, but it didn’t last. He hadn’t been any more important to her than she’d been to him. They hadn’t even begun to get below surfaces. He had a feeling that an evening with Cathy would not involve anything superficial.

  “Oh, it wasn’t really a date,” he assured Cathy. “More like an experiment.”

  “An experiment?” She made a face.

  He grinned. “Yeah. An experiment in terror.”

  She laughed and he watched, enjoying the way her nose wrinkled ever so slightly. “I’m glad your baby’s okay,” he said. “How’d he get out, anyway?”

  “The latch is broken on the upstairs window in the spare bedroom. I thought I had the door closed so that he couldn’t get in there. But you can’t take anything for granted with a toddler around.”

  She said it with wry affection, not resentment, he noted. She really seemed to like her kids. Funny how he always assumed women found children a burden.

  “I’ll fix the latch,” he offered.

  “Oh.” She looked surprised. “Oh, that’s all right. I was going to tackle it tonight after I got the babies down.”

  He shrugged. “It won’t take me a minute. If you’ve got the tools, I’ve got the time.”

  She hesitated, looking at him speculatively. If she let him into the house, she knew she would be making an admission she wasn’t sure she wanted to make.

  But he had saved Beanie. And he was offering to do something that needed badly to be done. Memory of how she’d responded to his touch earlier that day flew through her mind, but she shook it away. She would be careful. She had to be.

  “Well, thank you. That would be wonderful.”

  “Yeah.”

  He took a deep breath, looking at her.

  “Right.”

  Turning, he started for the front door. With the tingle of anticipation in his blood, he felt as though he were walking on air.

  CHAPTER FOUR:

  The Etiquette of Soup

  Cathy’s hand slid over Beanie’s back and her fingers just barely ruffled the downy blond curls at the nape of his neck. His eyes were closed but the golden lashes still quivered slightly. He was lying in his crib.

  Cathy hummed softly as she touched his back, not really rubbing, just letting him know she was still there. She didn’t often have time to put him to sleep this way, so right now she was giving him all of herself—her time, her attention, her love. She had a feeling he needed it right now.

  The muffled sound of pounding made her lift her head and smile. Scott was working on the window across the hall. Beth and Barnaby were with him, and the triplets were, for the moment, sound asleep.

  She looked down at her youngest child, so near sleep, yet still clinging to wakefulness, and love welled up in her heart. She was so lucky. All her life she’d dreamed of having a family, of being the mommy, of having rooms full of adorable children…and a strong, handsome daddy to go with them.

  When she was a little girl being shunted from home to home, and never feeling as if she belonged anywhere, she’d held tightly to that dream, using it to put herself to sleep every night, bringing it out to comfort herself on lonely evenings.

  A family. Her family.

  She had the children. No one could have asked for better children, and no one could love them more than she did.

  That was the lucky part. The children were perfect. They filled the need she’d had all her life, filled it so well that she was truly happy, despite the fact that there was a missing piece in her dream. The part about the daddy had never worked out.

  Closing her eyes, she could conjure up that mythical family. The children had looked remarkably like the three little towheads she’d ended up with. And the daddy...

  Her eyes opened in shock and she gasped softly. Good Lord! The daddy of her childhood dreams had looked a lot like... a lot like...

  “No,” she said aloud, vehemently, making Beanie stir.

  She shook her head silently but firmly. Something must have happened to her memory banks. The daddy in her dream could not possibly have looked just like Scott Carrington. It was just that he was here, he was around. He was the last man she’d seen.

  So, for some reason, her mind had decided to substitute his face for the daddy face. That had to be it.

  There was certainly no use in trying to mold Scott Carrington into the missing piece in the picture. That was exactly what she’d done with Joey, and look how badly that had turned out.

  She’d learned her lesson. She would never expect any man to love her children the way she did. The man in the dream picture didn’t exist, and she refused to go through life searching for something that was impossible to find.

  “Aga,” Beanie murmured drowsily.

  “Yes, baby,” she whispered, touching his golden hair. “Mama’s here.”

  And Mama would always be there, she told herself fiercely. Mama would not get sidetracked by some handsome man; she would not let herself be tempted into a tantalizing affair with some Romeo.

  Scott was really very nice—and awfully attractive. And he had been there to catch Beanie. She was grateful, but she was not overwhelmed. Not at all.

  When she went downstairs she would carefully, tactfully, let him know she appreciated what he had done but she was not interested in a relationship of any kind. And then she would politely show him out.

  She nodded, pleased with her own resolve.

  Yes. That was what she would do.

  Beanie laughed softly, though he was almost completely asleep. Cathy frowned and studied his little face carefully. He couldn’t possibly be laughing at her and her hopeful plans, could he?

  Scott was putting the finishing touches on the window and feeling pleased with himself. It had been some time since he’d worked with his hands this way. He’d forgotten how satisfying it could be. Fixing the window made him feel needed and necessary in the everyday world—a sort of manly feeling. He kind of liked that.

  He wasn’t sure how he felt about his audience, however. Turning his head, he looked at the two children watching his every move with solemn faces. Neither of them had said a word for ten minutes. They sat, without moving, on two chairs.

  “Boo,” he said softly.

  Neither face changed. They looked a lot alike, both strawberry blondes, both green eyed, with freckles on their turned-up noses.

  “Where did
you two get that red hair?” he asked.

  “From our daddy,” Beth responded promptly. Barnaby didn’t say a word. “Me and Barnaby look like Daddy and Beanie looks like Mommy,” Beth continued earnestly.

  Scott grinned at her. He had to admit he sort of liked the straightforward way she came right out with things. “Your daddy must be one good-looking guy,” he offered.

  Beth’s face was radiant. “He is. Mommy says he used to smile at her and make her knees go wobbly.”

  Scott forced back the chuckle that rose in his throat. Cathy with wobbly knees—that was something to shoot for. He tightened the last screw and sighed with satisfaction. Beanie wouldn’t be able to get out on the roof so easily next time.

  Beth was still going strong in the background.

  “My daddy likes toast with peanut butter on it and cowboy movies,” she told him solemnly. “He has a red sports car.”

  Scott threw her a quick smile. “He’s a man after my own heart.”

  “Do you like kids?” she asked suddenly.

  Scott turned to look at her, thrown for just a second. “Well, I...sure, I like kids,” he fibbed. What else could he do?

  “Daddy doesn’t.” She said it calmly, as though announcing the day’s weather.

  Scott felt a twinge of sympathy—and then regret that he couldn’t come out more wholeheartedly for kids in general. Still, it wasn’t good to have her think her father didn’t like children. Even if it was true.

  “Oh, I think you must be wrong about that,” he said carefully. “I know he likes you two. And you’re kids.”

  Beth was staring at him intently. “How do you know that? Do you know our daddy?”

  The girl was too sharp for him, that was for sure. No comforting platitudes were going to mollify her.

  “Noooo...but...”

  There was no avoiding those clear green eyes. Scott cleared his throat and changed the subject just a bit.

  “Listen, kids. Tell me more about your daddy.”

  Two pairs of huge eyes stared at him.

  “Why?” Beth asked softly.

  He sat cross-legged on the floor closer to them. They were watching him closely, and now they both had guarded expressions. He smiled at Barnaby, and then at Beth.

  “Now don’t get the wrong idea. I don’t want you to tell me any secrets. I don’t want you to say or do anything your mother wouldn’t want you to do.” He looked down into the little girl’s eyes, trying to look sincere.

  “All I want to know is...”

  He looked from one to the other and realized he couldn’t do this. They weren’t adults. He couldn’t question them. It was becoming more and more important to him to know if Cathy’s husband still played a part in her life. But it wasn’t right to ask the children. He began to wish he’d never started down this path.

  He sat up straighter and shrugged. “Uh, listen, never mind. I just was wondering if I would get to meet your daddy, that’s all.”

  “I told you,” Beth said quietly. “They’re divorced.”

  “I know.” But does he come around much? That was what he wanted to know. And that was what he couldn’t quite bring himself to ask.

  There didn’t seem to be anything left to say. Scott stared at where the toe of his shoe was sticking out from under his knee. Beth got up from her chair.

  “I’ll go down and help Mommy,” she said. And then she was gone.

  Scott looked at Barnaby. He got up, too, but he didn’t make it out the door. Instead, he dropped behind the chair and peered out from around it, his green eyes cold as ice, as though he needed cover but was prepared to return enemy fire.

  Scott stared at him for a moment, then turned back toward the window to finish his job. He had no idea what he could possibly say to this silent child that would reduce the hostility radiating from him. Maybe it was best to ignore it.

  He drew the window closed and latched it, and then he heard Barnaby’s voice, still coming from the vicinity of the chair. “My daddy is bigger than you,” he said.

  Scott looked back and managed a false smile. “Is he?”

  The green eyes blinked before he fired his next salvo. “My daddy made six home runs already this year.”

  Scott nodded, pretending his attention was fully engaged by the job he was doing. “Good for him.”

  Barnaby came out from behind the chair, eyes flat and wide. “My daddy is Superman,” he cried suddenly. “My daddy could beat you up.” Arms raised, he made automatic weapon fire noises with his mouth as he gunned Scott down with his imaginary rifle, then turned and fled the room.

  “He probably could,” Scott murmured to himself, staring after the child. “I guess I’m not so tough after all.” He sighed, looking at his own reflection in the full-length mirror on the opposite wall of the room.

  “I don’t need this,” he muttered to his own image. “Do I need this?”

  The answer was clear. He cleaned up the evidence of his work, listening all the while to the muffled talk and movements of Cathy putting the two older children to bed. When he finally made his way downstairs, she was waiting for him.

  She stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up. She’d tied her blond hair back, but wispy curls had pulled free and now framed her face. She’d put on white slacks and a soft pink sweater, but her feet were bare.

  Altogether, she was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen and he had to hesitate halfway down the stairs and referee the war his emotions were going through at the sight of her.

  “She’s gorgeous,” one side of the argument went. “Think how soft she’d be in your arms. Think how good her mouth would taste, how she’d melt to your touch and how those long, slender fingers would tangle in your hair, and how her body would slide beneath you and—”

  “She comes attached to a horde of kids, you idiot,” retorted the other side. “She’s not alone. She’s taken, body and soul, by responsibilities. You can see it on her face, read it in her eyes. She’s got no time for you, and you haven’t got what it takes to satisfy her need for a daddy for those kids. Give it up. Don’t do something that will just make everyone involved miserable.”

  “Stay. See what happens.”

  “Get out while the getting’s good.”

  “You wouldn’t want to be rude.”

  “Tell her you ‘re expecting a long distance call.”

  And then he’d almost reached the bottom of the stairs and found himself within inches of her and the voices faded away, leaving him to follow his instincts. His instincts told him to smile—guardedly.

  “Thank you so much,” she was saying, looking up at him. “You’ve been such a help.” She watched his reaction, wondering why he looked slightly wary. She was the one trying to keep this short and sweet. Wasn’t she?

  “I’d— Have you had any dinner?”

  Whoops.

  She bit her lip. That wasn’t what she’d planned to say. It had just slipped out without warning.

  But what the heck. She owed him at least a meal after all he’d done tonight.

  “Not really,” he answered, almost wincing, as though he knew he was caught and was beginning to lose sight of an escape plan. “I was cooking, but dinner plans got interrupted.”

  Cathy nodded, remembering what he’d said to his date when he’d advised her to go on home.

  “I saw you go over to say goodbye to your friend before you started on the window,” she said, and in spite of her wariness, she knew her eyes were brimming with silent laughter. “Did she leave you any steak?”

  Scott grinned. “Are you kidding? She took the steak, the corncobs, even the onion dip. When I got over there she had everything in a laundry basket she was ‘borrowing.’ I’m surprised she left me coffee for my morning meal.”

  “Ouch.”

  He shrugged. “I probably ruined her plans, showing up like I did, before she’d completely filled the basket.” He pretended to look sad for her. “The coffee business must nag at her. If only she’d had time to g
et it all!”

  She found herself grinning back at him. He was cute. And she did like a man who could laugh at himself.

  “Serves you right,” she teased.

  He pretended to be taken aback, one eyebrow raised. “How so?”

  Glancing over her shoulder at him, she started for the kitchen. “Like they say, you get what you pay for.”

  He came after her, only a step behind. “Are you implying I have to pay for women to date me?” he demanded.

  She laughed at his outraged face. “No, silly. Of course not. But what you get out of a relationship is proportional to what you’re willing to put into it.”

  She opened the refrigerator door and leaned in.

  “And I have a feeling this young lady was just a name in a phone book to you when you asked her out.”

  “A name on a locker room wall is more like it,” he muttered, leaning back against the counter and watching her trim figure as she reached for a large pot.

  “What?” She straightened, placing the pot on the stove and turning on the flame.

  “Nothing.”

  His eyes met hers and she looked away a bit too quickly, reaching for a cloth to wipe at the already spotless ceramic-tiled counter. The blond oak cabinets, the gleaming appliances, the butcher-block island, all created a setting that seemed to suit her.

  But he couldn’t help wonder what she would look like in a little black dress with diamonds in her earlobes. He had a feeling she would be a knockout.

  She put down the cloth and looked at the pot, sighing. “Well, this is going to be a letdown from steak, I’m afraid. But I fixed it for dinner and it’s all I have.”

  She turned and found him much too close, and suddenly she realized he had the longest dark eyelashes.

  “I hope you like soup,” she said, her voice husky.

  “Soup is fine,” he replied, but his gaze never left hers and though he didn’t touch her, neither did he back away.

  She knew they were standing too close together, knew she should move back, or say something. It was awkward to be standing here this way, but she couldn’t move. It was as though there was a magnetic ring around him, and she’d gotten stuck to it.