Twins times two!

by Bingham, Lisa

  shorts and ankle socks that she'd worn to bed the previous evening.

  Damn him! What had he been thinking when he'd gone to the press with the story? Had Ross already begun maneuvering in an effort to win public sympathy for his plight? After all, Ross Gif-ford was Zoe's biological father where Cara was only her—

  Her what? Her aunt? Could she even lay claim to that title if Ross were to challenge her for custody of the girl?

  But wouldn't anyone realize that after all these months she had become so much more to the children and they to her?

  She heard the ringing of her front door, then the faint calls of, "Mr. Gifford, Mr. Gifford!"

  Marching toward the front door, she decided that the time had come for Ross Gifford to explain everything—including his intentions for the future.

  Ross had known there was trouble the moment Cara had called. Her tone had revealed a woman at the breaking point.

  Damn. He'd known that he should have called her earlier—and he didn't suppose that his hesi-tance in contacting her again helped his cause any. But he hadn't wanted to commit himself to any course of action until he'd thought about all of the

  ramifications. After all, he was considering asking a woman to marry him. A woman he'd only met on two occasions. Granted, he had liked what he'd already seen, but was that any way to choose a mother for his children?

  So he'd spent two days trying to talk himself out of the decision. He'd concentrated on business and researching legal precedents regarding children who had been switched at birth.

  But he hadn't come up with a way to solve the problem as neatly and painlessly as a quick, simple marriage.

  He'd been ready to ask her. Last night, he'd taken a slow shower, shaved and splashed cologne on his cheeks. And then, looking in the mirror, he'd broken into a cold sweat.

  No. Marriage wasn't the answer.

  But even having made his decision, Ross hadn't slept.

  Nor had he called Cara to begin organizing an alternate plan of action.

  With the morning traffic, it took nearly fifteen minutes to reach Cara's bungalow. As the minutes passed, Ross tried to come up with a logical reason for his silence the last two days—one that wouldn't involve informing her of his harebrained idea. But it wasn't until he turned onto the block where she

  lived and he saw the camera crews that he realized just how upset Cara must be.

  "Damn," he muttered as he pulled his car into the driveway, deftly maneuvering around the reporters who knocked on his windows and shouted questions through the glass. Curiously, they didn't follow him into the driveway, but stood at the curb just outside the picket fence, jostling for position at the front of the pack.

  Ignoring them, Ross slammed the car door, set the alarm in case some ambitious reporter decided to tamper with the Lexus, and strode up the steps of the front stoop. As he jabbed the doorbell, he could feel the cameras being trained on his back.

  "Are you responsible for this?"

  "Are you suing Cara Wells for custody?"

  "How does it feel to discover that you've had your child raised by someone else all these years?"

  The door was barely opened before Cara grabbed him by the arm, pulled him inside and then slammed the door shut again. Directing an accusatory finger in the direction of the window, she glared at him, saying, "Why? Why?"

  Ross held up his hands. As if he didn't have enough to worry about, now Cara thought he was responsible for the press camping out on her doorstep. "I swear, I didn't have anything to do with that mob."

  Cara clearly didn't believe him. "Then how did they find out?"

  Ross strode to the window, lifting one corner of the shade to peer outside. No one had budged. If anything, the crowd had grown quiet as if they could hear through the walls if they listened intently enough. "My guess is that either someone in the law offices or the hospital leaked the story."

  "Law offices?"

  Her echo was weak, her eyes wide. Ross shied away from the emotions he saw there—hurt, vulnerability, fear. He had to keep a level head and regard this whole situation as pragmatically as possible.

  At that moment a thunder of feet came from the hall, then a loud bump and a high squeal.

  Clearly torn, Cara hesitated only a moment, then excused herself. A few moments later Ross could hear her speaking softly to the children, smoothing over the disagreement about a toy, kissing an "owie," offering a glass of milk.

  As he heard the voices, Ross felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach. He'd made up his mind, he reminded himself. He'd decided against even mentioning a marriage of convenience to Cara. The whole idea was unreasonable. After all, what right did he have to ask a young, attractive woman to sacrifice her future in that way? They would work

  something out—shared visitation rights and alternate holidays.

  But in that instant when she spoke with her children, Ross's resolve to remain cool and completely detached shattered.

  His own children were missing so much. They deserved the influence of a mother who would bake cookies, mediate an argument and heal their imagined ills with a simple kiss. Instead they had a daytime nanny and at night...

  A father who adored them but still didn't know quite how to handle a pair of growing daughters. He felt as if he was muddling through the role of father, while Cara, who had been the sole provider for her children for much less time, appeared to be a natural nurturer.

  If they were to marry...

  No. He couldn't ask any woman to consider such a thing. Ross was honest enough to know that Nancy's death had changed him. He had once been open and filled with a joy for living. But the death of his wife had made his emotions much more guarded. He knew he would never love anyone as he had Nancy. When and if he married again, it would be a relationship based on mutual respect, not love. And if there could be a physical side to such an arrangement, that would simply be an added bonus.

  "All better."

  Ross immediately focused on the woman standing in the doorway. She looked so vulnerable in her oversize T-shirt and shorts. He doubted that she was even aware of the enticing picture she presented with her sock-clad feet and mussed hair. A nearly perfect set of bright red fingerprints had left a mark on the side of her thigh. Jam, he would bet.

  All better. When did a person reach a point in his life when a kiss, a drink of juice and some toast with strawberry jam made everything right again?

  Cara tugged self-consciously at the hem of her shirt. "I've sent them to play in their rooms so we can talk alone."

  1 'Your children are very... lively.''

  Her smile was brief and filled with motherly pride. "If you mean out of control, you're right."

  "You seem to have them well in hand."

  She grimaced. "We have our days when there's a power struggle, but thankfully the good ones tend to outnumber the bad."

  She gestured to a seat, but he shook his head. "I think I'd better say this standing up."

  The color leached from her cheeks and he watched as she wiped her palms down the legs of her shorts.

  "You've decided to sue for joint custody, haven't you?" she whispered.

  Cara had only just met him, yet she knew him so well already. It was almost as if they shared a similar wavelength.

  He opened his mouth to agree, then hesitated. Cara was an intelligent, vibrant young woman, who was more than capable of making decisions for herself. So why not go for broke? Why not ask for the unattainable, then work his way back to a more feasible arrangement? Wasn't that the strategy employed for most methods of negotiation?

  "I think I've come up with a better solution. It's a little unconventional, but..."

  Cara tucked her fingers into her pockets, then nervously removed them again and folded her arms tightly beneath her breasts. If anything, she'd grown even paler, but her hazel eyes glittered mutinously.

  "You can't take my children away from me. I won't let you."

  The words were barely audible and filled
with such pride and protectiveness that Ross's determination was dented slightly. Suddenly he saw himself from Cara's point of view, and it was clear just how much of a bastard Cara thought he was capable of being.

  "No. I'm not staking a claim on your children."

  "Then what?"

  "I think that you would have to admit that the children belong together."

  She folded her arms, wrapping them tightly around her as if cold. "Yes. I spoke with one of the university psychologists yesterday morning."

  So he hadn't been the only one to investigate their options.

  "Studies of twins who have been separated at birth have shown that the absence of a twin can have a negative effect on a child, even if the two children have no knowledge of the other twin's existence. Twins who have been separated tend to feel as if a piece of them is missing."

  "Ideally, the children should be allowed to grow up together," Ross agreed slowly.

  "I thought you said you wouldn't try to take them away."

  He slipped his hands into his pockets. "What I'm suggesting is more of a... merger."

  "A merger?" Cara's brow furrowed.

  "Of families. Yours and mine."

  She blinked. "I don't understand."

  "I'm suggesting that we combine the two families into one."

  One of her brows rose. "If you think it's a media circus out there now, just imagine what it will look like when we announce that we've decided to cohabit."

  Ross slid his hands into his pockets, watching her closely. At the first sign of a flinch he would back off and go back to suggesting shared custody. But right now he had to ask. If he didn't, he would always wonder if he'd done the right thing by pursuing a purely legal avenue to solve their dilemma.

  "I'm suggesting a little more than sharing the same house," he stated slowly. "Such a situation would be short-term, and at this point in their lives, I think the children need as much stability as possible. They've already been through more than enough loss for their years."

  "Then..."

  The time had come. But Ross still hesitated. Once the words were said, they couldn't be taken back.

  But even as he considered changing his mind, Ross knew that he had to ask her. He had to follow his instincts, and his gut was telling him to take a chance with Cara Wells.

  "I think we should get married."

  Ross saw the moment when the idea took root in her mind. Cara's eyes darkened, then widened. Finally she shook her head and moved sharply toward the window. "No. Absolutely not."

  "It would solve all of our problems at once. Your children would have a father figure, mine would have a mother. They would have a chance

  to grow up together as sisters in a stable, healthy environment."

  "Stable? How stable can such a marriage be? I don't even know you."

  He moved slowly toward her. "I'm not suggesting a love match, Cara. I'm suggesting a marriage of convenience, pure and simple."

  A short laugh escaped her throat. "You've got to be kidding. This isn't the Middle Ages, and I'm not chattel."

  "I'm not suggesting that you are." He let his breath escape in a whoosh. Until now he hadn't realized how much he had hoped that she would agree to his proposition. He thought of all the reasons he could offer to sway her opinion. In an instant his mind, used to the maneuverings of litigation, began formulating his argument and outlining his strategy. But even as he considered presenting his case like a lawyer pleading for his client in a courtroom, he abandoned such a tactic.

  This wasn't a trial. It was personal. Very personal.

  "Tell me a better way, Cara. Tell me a better way to offer our children the best we can give them."

  Chapter Seven

  The moment Ross's words sank into her consciousness, Cara felt the fight drain out of her system.

  Tell me a better way to offer our children the best we can give them.

  He was right. As much as she balked against the idea of marrying again—especially to a man she didn't even know—that one simple statement put everything into perspective.

  Cara would do anything for her two little girls. Anything.

  So why couldn't she offer them the chance to live together? To grow up as sisters? To enjoy one another's company, to fight, to laugh, to love?

  Because in order to do that, she would have to marry again.

  No. I've sworn off marriage. I've sworn off men.

  But Ross wasn't suggesting a love match, he

  was suggesting a business arrangement. Nobody had said anything about love. She certainly didn't love Ross, she barely knew the man—and she wouldn't expect any emotional declarations from a widower who was still so obviously devoted to his late wife.

  "It's nuts," she whispered.

  But even as she said the words, Ross parted the blinds to look out at the media crews lining the street. In the space of a few days her quiet life had been turned upside down, and she wasn't naive enough to think that the frenzy of curiosity generated by the media would disappear overnight. Her girls would be forever marked as the "twins who were switched at birth." And she'd seen enough of the media's coverage of similar events to know that the label would haunt them for the rest of their lives.

  Unless all of the girls were reunited. Then the fodder for publicity would die after the first meeting.

  No. It wouldn't be that simple. A marriage didn't solve all of their problems.

  But it would help solve the legalities.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, she willed herself to relax, to think. Ever since she'd shut Ross out of her house two days earlier, she had dreaded his decision on how to handle things. His experience

  as a lawyer had terrified her more than anything else. She hadn't known what to expect—demands for custody of all the children, shared custody, subpoenas, social workers. She'd tortured herself with the possibilities.

  Yet, here he was, suggesting a solution that was simple, practical...

  And intensely personal.

  No. She couldn't do it. Absolutely not. How could she even contemplate living with this man? He was too powerful, too wealthy, too stern and forbidding. She might be physically attracted to him. But marriage,,.

  Never. From what she had seen, Ross was too much like her first husband. He was too guarded with his emotions, too structured in his lifestyle. If she were to consider the idea, she would become involved with a man who only wanted to marry her for the sake of convenience—and wasn't that much the same reason Elliot had married her? So that she could be his hostess and trophy wife? Outwardly she'd been the way a perfect wife should be, while inwardly she'd been dying a little more each day.

  "I won't live a lie."

  "I'm not asking you to."

  "You're asking me to pretend to be your wife."

  "No. I'm asking you to be my wife. My partner.

  I'm not asking you to pretend anything. If anyone asks about the motives surrounding our marriage, we'll be forthright and honest. We married to provide a stable environment for our children."

  She shook her head and jumped to her feet. ' 'It's nuts. The whole idea is nuts. Arranged marriages went out of fashion along with the horse and buggy."

  "And in the meantime the divorce rate has skyrocketed. Both of us have been married before. We aren't walking into this relationship expecting fairy-tale promises of happily-ever-afters once the vows have been exchanged. Instead we're looking at the whole situation objectively. Although we've only known each other a short while, I think we respect each other. We seem to have a rapport as well as an honest attraction to each other."

  She felt heat seep into her cheeks. Was this Ross's way of letting her know that theirs would not be a platonic relationship?

  "You've vowed never to many, Cara. But you have so much to give. I've only known you a short while, but I've seen the way you are around your girls." He hitched a shoulder in the direction of the faint sound of laughter seeping into the silence. "Don't you think the love you have could extend to my
girls, as well?"

  When she didn't answer, he moved toward her.

  "This marriage might not be a match made in heaven, but it does have all of the necessary ingredients to work. And with that little scrap of paper that legally binds us together, so much would be solved. Gaining guaranteed custody of the children would be little more than a technicality. The media's attention will wane in a few months, rather than years. But best of all, the children could grow up together, with two live-in parents."

  Cara bit her lip, her mind skittering from one possibility to the next, seeming to be incapable of settling on any point for long enough to make a decision. Granted, the situation surrounding the twins was untenable, but was marriage the answer?

  Ross continued to close the distance between them, his eyes dark and penetrating. And suddenly, even though she knew that a marriage of convenience might be the only viable way to ensure her presence in the children's lives, a part of her still ached at the cold-bloodedness of it all. She might have sworn off marriage, but that didn't mean she'd given up on romance.

  But it was just as obvious that romance would have no part in this proposition. Ross had suggested a business arrangement, plain and simple. True, in time, it might grow into a physical relationship, as well. But both she and Ross were emotionally battered and bruised. Neither of them

  would ever give their hearts so completely again. It simply hurt too much to love and lose—whether it be through death or divorce.

  Yet even as she prepared herself for the fact that Ross might never come to love her, she couldn't help wishing that there was some hint of emotion to the proceedings. Did he feel anything for her at all? Even a small measure of empathy for her plight? Would he ever grow fond of her? Or would she have to settle for the passion she'd seen in his eyes when they'd kissed.

  No. She wouldn't live a life like that. She couldn't.

  Cara opened her mouth, intending to refuse, then hesitated. If she said no, then what were the alternatives? Shared custody? Alternate visits on holidays? It sounded like the aftermath of a divorce, and she'd only known the man for a few days.