At times, she’d catch him ogling her with an intense look that even she, a novice when it came to knowing a man’s mind, understood as hunger and desire. And her ego would rocket like a shooting star.
Wyatt looked ready to escape the chaos. He was struggling to balance his fatherly duties with tending to business.
“Wyatt, I can manage just fine. Piece of cake.”
“Oh, yeah? What’s your plan?”
“My plan? Well, a bubble bath works wonders.”
His brows arched and he gave her a sardonic smile. “Sounds perfect.”
“For them, Wyatt.”
“Oh, right.” At least he could tease about the tension that sizzled between them, despite the double kid duty. “I knew that.”
Her ego soared again.
“I don’t know.” He scrubbed his face, pulling at the golden stubble on his jaw. “It’s a lot to ask of you. They’re a handful and a half.”
“Hey, it’s not as if you’re far away. Your office is down here, isn’t it?” she asked over Brianna’s meltdown.
“Yep, but it’s in another wing of the house.”
“You have an intercom system, right? I’ll use it if I need to. And that’s a promise. Now go, and let me put these little ones out of their misery.”
And you out of yours.
He finally agreed. After he helped get the twins upstairs, she took over, giving them both a bath full of light airy bubbles. The kids immediately simmered down, their sugar high from the ice cream leveling off. Brooke splashed them silly, until the room filled with their giggles, until their little fingers and toes shriveled to wrinkled raisins. When the bath was over, Brooke wrapped each one in a My Little Pony towel and snuggled them to her chest, drying them off. She dressed them in their jammies and then all three squatted on the floor to play. The twins had so many toys, and they played with each and every one before they got bored of the games. Then Brooke laid them down on a pastel-colored quilt and sang them silly songs. When she couldn’t remember the lyrics, she made up the words, and every song brought big grins to their faces.
“Piece of cake?”
She swiveled her head to find Wyatt blocking the doorway, his arms folded across his chest, blue eyes filled with admiration.
“Putty in my hands,” she said.
“I know the feeling,” he said under his breath.
Oh, God.
“Actually, I know the secret,” she said.
“And what’s that?”
He came to sit beside her and ruffled both of the children’s hair. Again, those blue eyes were alight with love for his kids.
“Play with them 24/7. Entertain and delight them, give them what they want.”
“And exhaust yourself...”
“Do I look exhausted?” She turned her face to him. When their eyes met, his nearness suddenly made it very hot in the room. It was a mistake to ask him that leading question, because his expression went dewy soft and he reached out to touch a strand of her hair. Focusing on the dark lock, he shook his head. “No,” he rasped. “You look beautiful.”
He touched her then, with his smile.
She gave him an uncertain smile back. “Thank you.”
He backed off, noting her hesitation. “You’ve been up here two hours.”
“Really? I lost track of time. Probably should think about dinner.”
He nodded and cleared his throat before standing up. He reached for her hand and helped her rise. Pretending nonchalance, she pulled her hand away and made a fuss about cleaning up the room when all she wanted was for him to touch her and keep on touching her.
Dangerous thoughts.
“Come on, you two. Let’s race and see who can put the toys away the fastest.” She dumped the first one into the toy box and the twins followed suit, grabbing toys two at a time, competing in another fun game.
Forty-five minutes later, Brooke and Wyatt were eating spaghetti in the kitchen with the twins. “Good move, not giving them sauce,” Wyatt said.
“Butter and cheese keep the bath monster away.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, you sure are an arsenal of helpful hints.”
“Maybe when dealing with children.” The same couldn’t be said in her dealings with men. In that regard, she was clueless.
Wyatt tipped his head to stare at her, a question in his eyes.
“That didn’t come out right,” she said, easing diced pasta into Brett’s mouth as Wyatt fed Bri. It was a subject that needed changing quickly. “Hey, looks like these guys are ready to conk out. I bet they go to sleep right after dinner. Then you can finish up your work.”
“I’m finished for the day,” he said.
Oh, great. It was coming up on eight o’clock. Too early to turn in. Of course, Brooke could claim fatigue and watch television in her room or read a book.
“I thought I’d get a fire going, relax some and have hot chocolate,” he said, giving her a glance.
“With marshmallows? Gosh, that sounds like heaven,” she cooed, thinking out loud. Peace and quiet by a crackling fire, sipping hot chocolate, and relaxing with Wyatt after a long, tiresome day would be pretty amazing. Hot chocolate was something she could drink and not endanger her baby. But uh-oh, she’d just stepped in it. Now there was no legitimate way out without sounding lame.
“With marshmallows,” he said on a nod. “Then you’ll join me?”
When would she ever learn to button her lips?
“Uh, yeah. For a little while. Unless you’d rather be alone, with your, uh, thoughts?”
He grinned. “Men never want to be alone with their thoughts.”
“Okay, then.”
As expected, the twins had fallen asleep right after dinner without much coaxing. Now the big ranch house was quiet. She padded on bare feet down the stairs, wearing Wyatt’s ginormous flannel plaid robe, which tied around her waist twice. The robe hugged her like a big teddy bear, a teddy bear that sported Wyatt’s appealing scent. She’d been wearing the same outfit for two days straight and had asked Wyatt for something to throw on over his shirt while she laundered her clothes. The rain hadn’t let up; just as the weatherman had predicted, a new storm had piggybacked on this one.
She entered the living room, where a floor-to-ceiling bedrock fireplace blazed. “It’s beautiful in here,” she said, hugging herself around the middle. The entire room was softly lit by the glow of the fire. Wyatt looked up from his place on the floor and gave her a heart-melting smile. Two mugs of steamy hot chocolate sat on the hearth, a bag of marshmallows beside them. “Have a seat,” he said, and arched a brow when she sat down on the floor, leaning her body against the part of the sofa farthest away from him. He couldn’t think she’d sit directly next to him, could he? Not in this lifetime. It was hard enough seeing him all day, as he interacted with his children and sauntered about in those perfect-fitting jeans, with that sexy pirate beard going on. A girl could only take so much.
“At least move closer to the fire,” he said, a knowing tone in his voice. “It’ll warm you.”
“I’m warm enough, thank you very much.”
“Suit yourself.”
He sprinkled mini marshmallows into both mugs and handed her one. Then he leaned back against the sofa and stretched out his long legs. Sipping the cocoa, he quietly watched the fire for a while. “Don’t get much peace around here. This is nice.”
“It is.”
“You’re good with the little ones,” he said.
“They’re precious, Wyatt.”
“They’re all I have left...”
She let that comment go, but she knew he was thinking of their mother, Madelyn. Oh, to be loved like that, so strongly that even in death the bond couldn’t be broken.
He put his head down. “Sorry.”
/> “No need to be, Wyatt. You went through a trauma. All of you did, and I get it.”
“It’s just that... I’m feeling all this guilt now.” His eyes lost their gleam, and he looked absolutely miserable.
“Guilt? About what happened between us?” Her stomach clenched. At times, she forgot she was carrying his child, but the baby made his presence known. Her breasts were becoming increasingly tender. She got tired more easily now, and she often bordered on nausea, especially in the morning. As far as symptoms went, hers were mild, but they were there reminding her daily that she couldn’t just pretend all was right with the world. Not until she shed her secret. She wanted to tell him to forget about what had happened between them, to put it in the past and save himself from his torment, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t say those words when she had more profound words to say.
“About what I’m feeling now. About how much I want you, Brooke.”
Her hand shook and the mug nearly tipped on its way to her mouth. Goodness, he’d just come right out and spoken his mind. She wished it would be that easy for her. She set her mug down and stared at the marshmallow circles melting as fast as her heart. “What if I said...the feeling is mutual, but we both know better?”
“Do we?” he asked, his voice registering doubt. She glanced at him again, and his dubious expression caught her off guard. Firelight reflected in his eyes and she noted the torment in them. His expression gave her pause.
“What do I say to that, Wyatt?”
“I don’t know. Maybe one of us needs to be reckless,” he added.
“I thought both of us were, at the wedding.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. “Meeting you that night was the best thing that happened to me in nine months. You helped me through a rough time, and I’ll be forever grateful.”
She didn’t want his gratitude. What exactly did she want from Wyatt? She knew the score. He was emotionally unavailable and she’d be fooling herself to think anything else. She was pregnant and a little bit frightened about telling him, because then they’d have to face reality and make appropriate arrangements for custody and all the ugly painstaking plans that went along with a child being born out of wedlock. Gosh, it was so much easier to put her head in the sand and not deal with any of this. Pretty soon, her body would betray her with a belly bump that would expand, and then she’d have no choice but to reveal her pregnancy. But tonight she wanted to sip hot chocolate with Wyatt and just be.
She heard one of the babies’ cries from upstairs and just being was immediately eighty-sixed. “Is that Brianna crying?” she asked softly, her ears perking up.
“I think it’s Brett,” Wyatt said, putting his mug down and listening. “Yep, that’s him. Bri will be right behind him. She doesn’t sleep when he’s in a state. Stay here by the fire. I’ll see to them.” Wyatt popped up.
“I’ll help.” She rose and nodded. “It’s okay. I want to.”
“Appreciate that. Double rocking them doesn’t always work.”
“I can’t see how it ever works, Wyatt. What do you do, hold one in each arm?”
“I try.” He sighed. “Usually Henrietta is here to help out.”
He really did need a nanny. Or two. How could one aging housekeeper keep pace with twins? Brooke was younger by thirty years, and even she was exhausted after watching them most of the day.
As she followed him up the staircase, Brianna started wailing. Now both babies were rocking the nursery walls. Wyatt and Brooke entered the room and she took one quick, assessing look at Brett. “He’s soaked through his jammies.”
“Ah,” Wyatt said. “That explains it.”
“I’ll change him and get him back to sleep,” she said. “Why don’t you rock Brianna?”
“Sounds good. If you’re sure...”
“I’m sure.”
And then on an afterthought, a storm of indecision crossed his face. “Their mother didn’t want the babies separated. In a house this size, they could each have their own room, but Madelyn thought this way was best.”
“There’s time for them to have their own rooms later in life. I think it’s a good plan for now, Wyatt. Twins have a special bond, I think.”
He let out a relieved sigh. “Okay.”
The poor guy. He was second-guessing his decisions regarding his kids and trying like mad to honor his late wife’s wishes.
“You take the rocker, Brooke. I’ll walk Brianna in my arms. She likes that.”
Twenty minutes later, Brett was dressed in clean pajamas and sleeping soundly. Wyatt wasn’t far behind putting his daughter back into her crib and covering her. He kissed her forehead so lightly, it might have been an air kiss, and then did the same to Brett.
With a hand to Brooke’s back, he guided her out of the room and down the hall. “Thanks,” he said. She found herself wrapped in his cushy robe, standing just outside her bedroom door. “You’ve been pretty darn great. I’d kiss you good-night, but we both know where that would lead.”
Her lips formed into a pout. She couldn’t hide her disappointment. She felt closer to Wyatt tonight. Maybe it was the intimacy of putting his little ones to sleep and working as a team, sharing meals and personal thoughts. Maybe it was the strong pull of his deep gaze that told her beyond words how much he wished things were different.
Maybe it was his body language and the way his eyes were on her mouth now, looking as if he’d devour her if given the chance.
“What if I kissed you, Wyatt?” She rose up on tiptoes, absorbing the heat of his skin as she laid her palm on his jaw. Not giving him a chance to answer, she brushed her lips over his.
“Good night,” she whispered, and as she backed away, Wyatt’s lids lowered, his breath rushed out in a groan, and before she knew what was happening, he reached out and pulled her into his arms. As he crushed her against his chest, his mouth came down on hers and his kiss stole her very breath. It wasn’t hard to melt into him, to give up her denials and simply feel. And oh, how good it was.
“God, Brooke,” he rasped over her lips, and then drove into her mouth in a fiery surge that she met with equal eagerness and enthusiasm.
“Wyatt,” she murmured, raking her fingers through the short tufts of his hair.
The connection between them might only be physical but it was strong, real and overpowering, judging by how fast her heart was racing, how every nerve in her body was standing on end.
He cupped her face with both hands and positioned her head to give him more access.
His kisses went deep, and raw, elemental lust rose up. Suddenly, she wanted his hands all over her again; she wanted to feel his flesh against hers and have him inside her making her splinter apart.
He gripped the tie of her robe to pull her closer. “I’ve been wondering all night what you have on under here.”
“Not too much,” she offered softly, the need in her voice ringing in her ears.
A painful groan emerged from his throat. “That’s what I thought.”
He kissed her again, his mouth ravaging and greedy. She didn’t mind being the recipient of his hot, passionate hunger. She wasn’t going to stop him. She wasn’t going to let any rational thoughts enter her head. Not tonight.
“I don’t think I can walk away from you tonight, Brooke.”
Her chin up, she captured his gaze. “I don’t think I’d let you.”
She turned the knob on her bedroom door and entered backward, keeping his face in her line of vision the entire time. He followed her, and the door flew shut with a kick of his foot.
He came toward her, stalking her like a wild animal, limber in his approach. His blue gaze was as dark as midnight. He tugged her forward by the sash on her robe. It opened and hung from her shoulders, the cool evening air replacing the warm furnace of material and leaving
her naked but for the panties she wore.
Wyatt sucked in a breath and gave her a glowing look of admiration. Then he sifted through the material of the robe and laid his hand on her breast. She closed her eyes from the pleasure of his touch. And when he began a slow, deliberate massage with the flat of his palm, squeezing the skin together and flicking her nipple, everything below her waist began to throb. Like crazy. Sweat broke out on her forehead.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked.
Totally not fair of him to ask. “Yes. Oh, yes.”
Six
Wyatt’s hands roamed her body as his kisses drove her to the brink. It wasn’t any different, any less urgent, than the night they’d shared at the inn. In the guest room of his beautiful ranch home, amid horses and cattle and yes, children sleeping a few rooms away, she gave in to the storm of desire enveloping her with a force that she could no longer fight. If she was being stupid and foolish, then so be it. She’d pay the price later, but for now, in this moment, she wanted Wyatt. No, she needed Wyatt.
A shudder passed through her entire body. Wanting was one thing, but needing him? Fear slammed into her heart and brought her up short momentarily. The blood froze in her veins.
Wyatt immediately stopped midkiss. He sensed something was up, and didn’t that tell her all she needed to know about him? He was sensitive enough to know she’d balked. “What’s wrong, darlin’?”
The corners of her mouth lifted as she touched his cheek, her palm grazing the rough stubble of his beard. His eyes bore down on her, waiting. “Nothing.”
He pulled her palm to his mouth and kissed the inside of her hand. “You sure?”
She nodded, plastering on a smile. “Positive.”
Twins for the Texan Page 9
