Twins times two!

by Bingham, Lisa

  So what did she have to lose?

  Heaven only knew she had everything to gain.

  Stiffening her shoulders, she concentrated on the peal of childish laughter coming from the bedroom. If she agreed to Ross's proposal, there would be two more voices adding to the noise. Two more reasons for her life to be filled with joy.

  Closing her eyes, she thought of Ross's children, but what swam immediately into mind was the memory of his house. Instantly she remembered

  the picture-perfect landscape, the castle-like structure complete with turrets, and the aura of wealth and influence that clung to the estate like a subtle perfume.

  Ross Gifford was a powerful man. A lawyer. An influential member of the community, with ties to who knew how many judges and government officials.

  And who was she? A nobody. A simple CPA who had no connections outside of those friends and clients she'd met through the Mom Squad.

  She had so much to lose.

  But if she agreed to Ross's proposal, she would have so much to gain.

  And she would do anything for her children.

  Anything.

  Holding that thought firmly in her mind, Cara met Ross's stare head-on.

  'Til do it."

  They were married at the Salt Lake City Courthouse. The judge who presided over their vows was a friend of Ross's, and the only guests to attend were Cara's partners and one of Ross's associates.

  As she stood before Judge Erickson, Cara wondered for the hundredth time if she'd done the right thing. She'd known Ross for less than a week, yet

  here she stood in a pale-peach suit, holding a bouquet of roses provided by her friends, promising to love and honor a stranger.

  Her limbs trembled as Ross repeated his vows. He was so tall, so forbidding. He was obviously comfortable with their surroundings, because he moved and spoke with a calm sense of confidence, while she quivered in her shoes and wondered how she'd come to this point.

  Cara had done a great deal of soul-searching since agreeing to marry Ross—and she'd changed her mind at least a dozen times. But whenever she was tempted to pick up the phone and call off the whole deal, she was reminded again of Ross's power. He had so much going for him. He knew the law inside and out, he had friends in high places, and she had nothing. Nothing but her love for the twins.

  In the end she had promised herself that she would give the marriage a try. She would do everything in her power to make it work—for the children's sake. But if there ever came a time when she thought the marriage was more harmful than good, she would leave. She'd lived through one divorce and she could do it again if necessary. She was a survivor, after all. If in the meantime the twins were able to form bonds with one another, the situation would have helped things in the long

  run. And she would be in a better position as well—looking at shared custody as an ex-wife rather than a "nobody."

  The judge looked at her, his bristly gray eyebrows lifting, and Cara realized her mind had wandered. Hurriedly she stumbled through her own vows, knowing that the deed was just about done. For better or for worse, she was now Mrs. Ross Alexander Gifford. There would still be legalities to tend to—adoptions of the children so that the law would recognize them as a single family—a process that would take some time. But from the moment she walked out of the judge's chambers, Cara would be married. Again.

  She blinked, feeling the sting of tears that she accredited to the stressful situation she'd endured for nearly a week.

  You're overwrought, that's all So much has happened in so little time. Once you've had time to relax, truly relax, you f ll be fine.

  But even as she reassured herself with such timeworn platitudes, a tiny part of her admitted the truth. Even though she had "sworn off marriage," a corner of her heart had hoped that she might find a love match someday. Secretly she mourned the little girl who had dreamed of a large church wedding with flowers and bridesmaids and an elegant reception.

  Even her marriage to Elliot had fallen short of that mark. She'd married Elliot at a busy wedding chapel in Reno between conference meetings. She hadn't even been given the time to change out of her traveling clothes after meeting him at the airport. The ceremony had been rushed and commercially impersonal with tinny, recorded music, a well-used bouquet borrowed for the ceremony and a simple wedding band purchased in the gift shop.

  Granted, the ceremony with Ross was more elegant, sophisticated and slightly more personal, but it still lacked something.

  Joy. A bride and groom should be eager for their life together to begin.

  Instead of being eager, Cara was nervous and dreaded the moments to come. Once they left the judge's chambers, she would be returning to his home to unpack her belongings and settle in. She would spend the rest of the afternoon trying to make herself at home in his cavernous castle. Then she would move the twins' things into one of the bedrooms adjoining the playroom and do her best to make them feel as if they belonged, as well.

  Blinking, Cara was suddenly glad that they had decided to wait until after the marriage to introduce the girls to one another. It gave Cara the time she needed to come to terms with her own whirling thoughts. Maybe by then she wouldn't feel as if

  her life had suddenly burst into supersonic speed and she didn't know how to slow it down.

  "...now pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Ross Gif-ford. You may kiss the bride."

  Cara's heart skipped a beat. The ceremony was over except for the obligatory kiss.

  Kiss. The judge wants us to kiss?

  If only the judge knew how Cara and Ross had gone out of their way to avoid touching each other in the past few days. Instinctively they'd shied away from the added complications caused by their attraction to each other and had concentrated solely on uniting their families.

  But now that was done, and the judge presiding over the services wanted them to kiss.

  Her eyes flickered shut as she scrambled to calm her jangling nerves. She shouldn't be at all surprised by the suggestion. After all, Judge Erickson couldn't possibly know about the emotionless way Ross and she had planned this event.

  Before Cara quite knew what to do, Ross was stepping toward her. Bettina had given her a hair clip of flowers complete with a tiny veil, and Ross lifted the netting, then stared deeply into her eyes.

  Cara shivered at what she saw there. Satisfaction, relief and something else that was deeper and darker and infinitely more intimate.

  Passion.

  Possessiveness?

  She bit her lip, then released it again when he bent toward her. She had insisted that their marriage remain platonic for a time, but what she saw in Ross's gaze didn't give her confidence that her wish would be granted. Not when her pulse knocked against her throat in response and her body seemed suddenly boneless and warm.

  When Ross touched her cheek, the icy grip of her nervousness was unlocked, and she melted into the embrace. When he tipped her head to the side, she willingly complied. And when his lips touched hers...

  The world disappeared around them, and she was filled with an instant desire. Her mouth willingly opened, her hands instinctively gripped the lapels of Ross's suit.

  Then, just as quickly, he lifted his head and the kiss was over.

  Cara stood shaken to the core. Such a simple kiss, only a brief moment of contact. But she thrummed with pleasure and an overwhelming awareness. As their guests gathered around them, she wasn't sure what was being said to her. Cara accepted the words and offers of congratulations with what she hoped was a normal smile, but she was far more conscious of the way Ross slid his arm around her waist and held her tightly against

  his side. For an instant she felt protected. She could even fool herself into thinking she was loved.

  Then, before she had managed to gather her wits, Ross was ushering her into the hot sun outside the courthouse. One by one the other members of the wedding party disappeared, leaving the two of them alone.

  Alone.

  What was she going to do w
ithout the distraction of other people? How was she going to make it through the day without—

  Without what? Begging him to forget their pla-tonic arrangement?

  Cara inwardly chided herself for being so weak. Perhaps she'd made a mistake by refusing to date after her divorce. If she'd had more of a social life, maybe she wouldn't be so needy. So hungry for—

  ''Are you hungry?"

  Cara started, sure that Ross had read her mind. But when he met his gaze, she realized that his question didn't hold the sensual overtones of her own musings.

  Hungry.

  Food.

  He was thinking of food.

  Cara blinked, wondering how Ross could be thinking of something so commonplace as eating at a time like this. But as he ushered her toward

  his car and released her to unlock her door, her

  awareness of everyday things returned bit by bit and she realized that she was starving. She hadn't done much more than nibble at food since this whole ordeal had begun days before.

  "I could eat," she said as she slid into the supple leather interior of Ross's car.

  Even his car was elegant and powerful, gleaming with a fresh cleaning, while hers was in sad need of a vacuuming to get the Cheerios and crumbs off the floor.

  Ross slid behind the driver's wheel, and the engine thrummed to life with a muted purr that spoke eloquently of its expensive price tag.

  ''Where would you like to go?" Ross asked as he backed out.

  "You decide."

  His lips twitched in the barest impression of a smile. "Now I know we're married."

  Cara frowned. "What do you mean?"

  "Some of my most frustrating moments as a child came from sitting in the back seat of a car listening to my mother and father exchange such lines as, 'Where do you want to go?' 'You decide.' 'No, you decide.' In the meantime, my father would drive aimlessly around town, passing a dozen different venues until everyone was hungry, frustrated and on edge. Then we would end up at

  a restaurant where none of us really wanted to eat because we'd already wasted so much time."

  Cara smiled as images of similar car rides flooded her memories. "Your mother and father are still alive?"

  "Mother is. Father passed away from heart trouble when I was in my teens."

  But Ross hadn't invited his mother to the wedding.

  "Tell you what," Ross said as he turned into the late-evening traffic of downtown Salt Lake. "I'll drive around aimlessly, and you let me know when something looks good."

  "Pizza."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "I'm in the mood for pizza. And unlike your mother, I'm more than happy to state my wishes before we both get carsick."

  Ross's gaze flicked over her silk suit. "We'd better change first."

  Within minutes he had reversed the direction of the car and was steadily climbing the eastern bench. With each block they passed, Cara's nervousness increased. Events had happened so quickly. Since they had decided it would be better to live in Ross's larger home, she'd been forced to pack up belongings and list her own house as a rental in a matter of days. In that time she hadn't

  had a spare minute to discuss living arrangements once inside Ross's castle. She'd been clear about wanting a platonic marriage, but would Ross insist on sharing a bedroom?

  She took a quick, calming breath to quell her sudden panic. Why had she allowed things to move so quickly? Why hadn't she demanded that they slow down the preparations to a saner pace?

  But as they neared the security gates of Ross's home and saw the mob of news vans and reporters waiting there, she remembered the intrusion of the media in their lives. She and Ross had wanted their marriage to be a fait accompli before reporters got wind of it.

  Without even pausing, Ross hit a remote control button and slid into the driveway. Cara expected the reporters to run for the house, but within seconds a pair of security guards—complete with real Doberman pinschers—kept the media from swarming inside.

  "Nice dogs," she murmured, remembering her own threat to sic an imaginary dog on the reporters who'd come to her house.

  "What?"

  "Nothing."

  Ross touched another button and one of the garage doors rose.

  "Are your girls with Stibbs?" Cara asked, still

  not used to the fact that she was about to live in a house with a genuine British butler.

  "No. Stibbs categorically refuses to tend children. It's one of his little quirks. The girls are staying the night with their nanny, Mrs. Graves." He killed the engine, then regarded her with dark eyes. "I thought it would be a good idea for us to settle in without the children underfoot. Even Stibbs has taken a couple of days off."

  So they were alone. Completely alone. Or were they? Ross had once mentioned something about a housekeeper.

  "Your housekeeper is here, though, isn't she?"

  "No. The daytime cleaning staff has gone for the day. As for the others... I gave everyone but the dozen or so men on the security team the night off."

  Team? He had a security team?

  Ross opened his door, and Cara slid out of the car before he had time to round the car and help her.

  The time had come for her to begin her new life as Ross's wife.

  I

  Chapter Eight

  Wordlessly Ross motioned for her to precede him into the house.

  Cara made her way through the mudroom to the kitchen, relying on her memory of her first night in Ross's home.

  Has it really only been a week?

  Unsure how to proceed once she was inside, Cara paused near the gleaming table and bit her Up, nervously wondering what to do next.

  Ross, on the other hand, seemed to have no such qualms. He dropped his keys in a silver bowl on the counter, then leafed through a pile of waiting mail.

  Cara waited in silence, wondering if it would be presumptuous of her to begin unpacking her things.

  But then, she didn't know where she would be staying. Or if she'd be sleeping alone.

  "You'll have to tell me how you want to work with the nanny in the coming months."

  Finally, a subject on which she felt comfortable offering her views.

  "I don't want a nanny at all," she stated firmly.

  Ross paused in the midst of reading a letter, peering at her from beneath a creased brow. "I'm afraid I'll have to insist that you keep her with you at least part-time."

  Cara bristled. "Why? I thought you liked the way I handle my own children. I thought that was one of the reasons for this marriage."

  "It is. But you've also just inherited another set of children—making it much like having three-year-old quadruplets running around the house. I asked you to be my wife, not my slave. I know from my own experience that the twins can be a handful. It's going to be even more complicated with four of them."

  "But you've already got a butler and a housekeeper. It's not as if I'd be running the household single-handedly."

  "No, but you also need some time to pursue your own interests, as well as your work with the Mom Squad—or am I wrong in thinking you wanted to continue working?"

  "Of course I do."

  "Then the nanny stays." He dropped the mail

  on the counter and began working at the knot of his tie. "I've also set up a checking account—"

  "No. I won't take money from you."

  He sighed. "You didn't let me finish."

  Cara opened her mouth to reiterate her refusal. She wouldn't take money from him. It would be too much like being a... a kept woman.

  A nervous laugh nearly burst from her lips. A "kept" woman? Did anyone even use such a term anymore?

  But before she could form a scathing reply, Ross continued.

  "I've arranged a checking account with enough money in it each month to take care of the bills and household expenses. I'd appreciate it if you would take over the responsibilities of seeing they get paid. After all, you're a qualified CPA with more than enough experience handling the
Mom Squad's finances."

  Some of her anger drained away when she realized that he meant to include her in family matters. Inexplicably his suggestion touched her more that he would ever know. Her first husband hadn't trusted her with such a responsibility. She hadn't even known her husband's true income until divorce proceedings had begun.

  "You'll need to give me an itemized budget," Cara said.

  He shook his head. "This isn't a business, it's a family. If you need more money, you can go to our bank and arrange for the automatic deposit to be increased. If you have money left over, then you can keep it, spend it, or save it—whatever you think best."

  Cara wanted to object, but he was being so reasonable, she knew that any arguments she might offer would simply sound childish.

  "Is that system agreeable to you?"

  "Yes, of course." But her voice was tight.

  "I'll also give you the numbers of our other accounts and investments." He dropped the mail on the counter. "I've got life insurance, but we'll need to arrange coverage for you, as well. In any event, I want it clear from the beginning that what I have is yours."

  Ross ripped his tie loose and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a large vee of healthy, tanned flesh. Cara's gaze fixed there. The knot of need inside her tightened.

  When she looked up, it was to find Ross watching her closely.

  "Come with me," he said, his voice low and silky. "I'll show you where you'll be staying."

  Ross led Cara up the ornately carved staircase. Once again she was reminded of that first night she had come to Ross's house. That night she had been

  awed by her surroundings and completely unaware of the rush of events that would take her by storm the minute Ross opened the nursery door.

  This time Cara gazed around her with new eyes, knowing that Ross's castle was to be her home, as well.