Twins for the Texan

by Charlene Sands

  “What are you talking about, darlin’?”

  “You need a nanny, Wyatt. I’m here. I’ve got nothing on my agenda until Dylan’s movie wraps, and I owe you.”

  Wyatt sat up, hung his legs over the side of the bed and planted his hands on the edge of the mattress. “After last night, and this morning, I’m thinking I’m the one owing you.”

  He was teasing. They’d satisfied each other and there was no measure to that, no payment for deeds. “That was mutual and equal. Wasn’t it?”

  He gave her an earnest look. “Yeah. So what do think you owe me?”

  “You came after me in the storm with your kids in the car. I’ll never forget that. You risked them to save me. It’s the least I can do. I want to help.”

  He heaved a big sigh and ran his hands through his hair, tousling it even more. Bed head looked incredibly sexy on him. “How can I ask you to do that for me?”

  “You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

  He thought about it awhile as she stood there, her heart in her throat. God, he had to say yes. Once the offer was out there, she realized how very much she wanted him to agree. She wasn’t ready to leave him. She wasn’t ready to reveal her secret and part company, all businesslike. She was falling in love with him. More time would confirm her feelings, and she could test out her new and wishful theory that Wyatt was getting over his late wife’s death. Silly her. At the very least, she could bide her time and try to find the exact right moment to tell him she was carrying his child.

  He lifted his eyes to her. “My mother isn’t easy.”

  “I can handle her.”

  “She’s got a mouth on her.”

  “So do I.”

  His gaze dipped to her lips. “Lord, I know.”

  She smiled.

  “She’s impetuous, rude sometimes, and likes to get her way.”

  “Sounds like my kind of girl.”

  “She’ll drive you crazy.”

  “I won’t hold it against you.”

  “You’re determined then? You want to do this?”

  Brooke nodded.

  “I mean, hell... I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want you here longer.”

  That was encouraging. “Ah, but if I stay, Wyatt, we can’t...”

  “Yeah, yeah, I get it. I agree. It won’t be easy.”

  No, it wouldn’t be easy going to bed at night, knowing that forbidden pleasure and the satisfaction of being in Wyatt’s arms were just down the hallway.

  Wyatt rose from the bed, shedding the sheet, and stood before her, fully aroused. “You think we can pull this off?”

  Her bones melted. She wanted him so badly. She gulped air and nodded. “Yeah, I think we can. It’s only for a week, right?”

  “Yeah, a week should convince her.” He sighed. “Now I’d best get me a cold shower. Seems I’m gonna be taking a lot of those from now on.”

  Seven

  The stage was set. The sun had come out. The land was dry. The roads were clear. All was back to normal.

  Well, sort of.

  To Genevieve Brandt, Brooke would be Brooke Johnson, the newly hired nanny. The very best Wyatt had ever found. The twins loved her. She had all the right credentials. Wyatt made her a promise to take care of any probing questions his mother might ask when she arrived.

  Brooke wasn’t a liar by choice. In fact, she hated people who bent the truth to suit their needs. And wasn’t she sliding right into that persona now, pretending to be someone she wasn’t? In essence, she was also fibbing by omission to Wyatt, too.

  By the end of the week, she promised herself, one way or another, Wyatt would know the truth about her pregnancy and all would be settled. A shiver ran through her. She was in deep now and she would have to wade through the days hoping to convince Genevieve that the babies were in good hands. Hoping that Wyatt would...what? Beg her to stay?

  Her cell rang and she muttered a choice word as she glanced at the screen. Putting pep in her voice, she answered the call. “Hi, Dylan. How’s it going?”

  “How’s it going? I’m sitting here in my trailer, trying to read lines, wondering why the hell my sister is spending the week with a total stranger. A man with two kids, no less.”

  “Oh, I explained it all to Emma when I picked up some of my clothes yesterday. He’s a good guy really. You know him. He’s the consultant to the film. Wyatt Brandt. The storm struck while we were having dinner and I sorta got stuck here.”

  “It’s not raining anymore. Aren’t you coming back to Zane’s place?”

  “Well, as I told Emma, I’m staying here helping him with his twins this week. It’s a long story, but trust me, I’m fine.”

  “Is this a paying job?” Dylan knew damn well it wasn’t.

  “Hey, I’m a big girl, Dylan. I can take care of myself.”

  “It’s not a job. Oh, right, because you have a job waiting for you back home in California. Are you forgetting that we’re leaving for home in less than two weeks? So what’s really going on, Brooke?”

  “Nothing. God, Dylan. Please, back off. I...kn-know what I’m doing. I’m helping someone out.”

  Her brother’s overprotective groan traveled through the receiver. “All right, I’ll back off. I’m only looking out for you, you know.”

  She sank into the bed Henrietta had made sometime while Brooke was feeding Brianna and Brett their lunch. “I know. I’m... I’m going to be fine.” Even to her ears, she sounded uncertain.

  “I’m trusting that you are. But I want to hear from you every day, Brooke.”

  “I’ll call. I promise to check in with you and Emma.”

  Dylan grunted his farewell, and after she hung up, she was torn between loving Dylan to death and wishing he wouldn’t treat her like a child. She was twenty-six years old, for heaven’s sake. And yes, granted, she’d had a tough year and he didn’t want to see her hurt again, but that might happen anyway. Regardless.

  The sound of tires crunching gravel on the road put her on alert. She rose and walked to the window. Outside, Wyatt was opening the Jeep door for Genevieve. At first glance, Brooke’s eyes widened. Wyatt’s mother was beautiful, with sterling platinum hair and a tan complexion complemented by just the right amount of makeup. Wearing a blue silk blouse, a flowing crepe scarf, cream slacks and ankle boots, Genevieve looked every bit the part of New York high society.

  Bolstering herself with a pep talk, Brooke headed toward the nursery. Brett and Brianna fidgeted in their cribs, waking from their naps. Just in time.

  Brooke made fast work of cuddling them with hugs and kisses, then diapering and changing them into clean clothes. Brianna wore a pink dress with ruffles at the skirt, and Brett wore a new pair of blue jeans, à la Wyatt Brandt, and a little man shirt in red. She was just putting a bow in Brianna’s hair when she heard footsteps on the polished wood floors.

  “My babies.” Genevieve rushed into the room—her pleasant floral scent following her—and picked up Brett immediately. She smothered the boy with kisses, and Brett, love his soul, watched her carefully, as if trying to piece together who this woman was exactly. Genevieve turned to Brooke, looking her up and down. Had she passed the test? “And how’s my little Breezy Peezy doing?”

  “She’s on the verge of being a crank pot. I think she woke up too soon from her nap.” Brooke held a fussing Brianna to her chest. “Hello, I’m Brooke,” she said to Genevieve.

  Genevieve’s chin rose. “Wyatt tells me you’re good with the children.”

  From behind his mother, Wyatt shook his head, his lips twitching. Brooke wasn’t fazed. She’d dealt with tough cookies from her Parties-to-Go business. “We think alike.”

  Genevieve laughed. “Do you, now?” She ruffled Brianna’s light blond locks and bent to kiss her cheek. Anyone with that much
love shining in her eyes couldn’t be that bad. “I’m Genevieve. Their grammy.”

  “Nice to meet you, Grammy Genevieve.”

  “You can call me Mrs. Brandt.”

  On the other hand...

  “Mom.” Wyatt pushed into the room. “Brooke doesn’t have to—”

  “No, it’s okay, Mr. Brandt,” Brooke said, giving him a big smile. His eyes bugged out and she almost laughed. They hadn’t spoken about what she should call him, but now, it was clear in her mind, she needed to distance herself from him while Grammy was here. “I most certainly will call you Mrs. Brandt. It’s not a problem. I was guessing it might be confusing for Brett and Brianna. There’s so many names being jostled about, but I’m sure the twins know exactly who you are.”

  “Of course they do,” Genevieve said, just as Brett kicked away from her, reaching for his daddy’s arms.

  Wyatt grabbed his son and Brett immediately turned his head into his daddy’s chest. Genevieve’s confident expression slipped a little. “Well, they may need a little reminder,” she said. “It’s been too long. I miss them.”

  “I’m sure they miss you, too,” Brooke said, swaying her hips and rocking Brianna side to side. “Bri, would you like your grandmother to hold you now?”

  Brianna didn’t make up her mind right away, and Mrs. Brandt began smiling and encouraging her. “Come on, Bri Bri. Grammy will rock you.”

  Genevieve clapped her hands, wiggled her fingers and twirled around in a circle. “And I don’t mean on my hip. Wanna dance, Breezy Peezy?”

  Brianna giggled, the sweet sound penetrating the tension radiating off Wyatt’s body. He needed to lighten up. His mother wasn’t all that bad. A bit huffy and pretentious maybe, but she did love her grandchildren.

  “Maybe we can all dance,” Brooke said, handing Brianna over to her grandmother and giving Wyatt a big nod as she began singing a Taylor Swift song about shaking it off. Wyatt grinned for half a second and began to move. He wasn’t light on his feet—that was for sure—but he did have good moves elsewhere. And she loved that he didn’t balk at the idea of acting silly with his kids.

  The children cackled as they moved throughout the room.

  Just then her stomach notched up, a weird kind of hollow, dull ache pulling her out of the dance mentally. Was this what morning sickness was like?

  And wasn’t that supposed to happen in the morning?

  Then she remembered Emma telling her it can hit at any time, day or night. Something would set it off, the smell of food or too much activity or nothing at all. It would just sweep in and make you feel like you could empty your lunch at any second.

  Lucky for her, Genevieve put a halt to the fun, claiming fatigue, and Wyatt showed her to her room. It was the second master suite down the hall. Henrietta had told her that after the Brandts retired to the East Coast, Wyatt had a contractor tear down walls in two rooms and construct his very own master suite. The house was certainly large enough for two master bedrooms, and Wyatt had wanted to keep his mother’s room intact. Or as Brooke imagined, Genevieve wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Henrietta walked into the nursery carrying folded baby laundry. Brooke’s savior. “Oh, um, Henrietta, can you watch the babies for a few minutes?”

  “Of course.” Henrietta had gentle eyes and a kind heart. Brooke had only met her yesterday, but she could tell the woman was a nurturer. And loyal to the Brandt household. She didn’t know the truth—the less deceit the better—yet she had to be suspicious of how Wyatt had pulled a new nanny out of his cowboy hat over the weekend. But she hadn’t said a word about it. Instead she’d readily accepted Brooke, probably greatly relieved to have additional help.

  The children were playing with giant interlocking blocks on the floor. Well, munching on them was more like it, giving them a good toothy chew. Henrietta set the laundry aside and squatted on the floor. “Oof.”

  If Brooke didn’t get out of this room immediately, the three of them would witness her double over. “I promise I’ll only be a minute,” she called, racing out of the room. She sprinted to her bathroom, leaned up against the wall, her hand on her tummy, and took deep solid breaths, praying she could hold it together.

  Minutes later and lucky for her, the need to empty her stomach had passed. Only slight tremors rocked her belly now. She splashed water on her face, took a comb to her hair, pulling it back into a ponytail. She felt much better now. She opened her bedroom door.

  To Wyatt. He blocked the doorway, his hand fisted, ready to knock. Her jaw dropped and he seemed quite pleased that he’d startled her.

  “Wyatt, I’m sorry, I can’t talk to you right now. I’ve got to get back to—”

  He shoved at her chest and followed her as she stumbled into her room. He gave the door a quick kick and it quietly clicked behind him. The next thing she knew, she was pinned to the back of the door, Wyatt’s hands on her wrists, his beautiful face inches from hers, wearing a wry smile. “I’ll show you Mr. Brandt,” he whispered. And then his mouth was on hers, hungry, possessive and wild.

  God, payback was a bitch. She should’ve known he wouldn’t let that go. Her bones liquefied instantly and she kissed him back with a fire that started from deep inside her belly. She was helpless to push him away. “We can’t,” she pleaded blandly, between kisses. “Your mother—”

  “Is locked far away in her room, probably already napping.”

  Was the locked part wishful thinking? “But the children?”

  “Henrietta is doing fine with them.”

  “But we agreed...”

  He nibbled on her throat and then ran his tongue down to her collarbone, taking bites there, too. The secrecy of meeting him like this was a turn-on, but then so was he—anywhere, anytime. Just one touch from him turned her brain to jelly. “I’m breaking the agreement. Just for now.”

  “Wyatt,” she sighed, giving in to sensations driving her crazy. They groped at each other like teenagers hiding out behind the stairwell.

  If only her teen years had been this exciting.

  Finally she put a stop to it. Wyatt, breathing heavy, clunked his forehead to hers. “I don’t want my mother bullying you.”

  “Is that why you came in here?”

  “Yes. No.”

  Something about his confusion tugged at her heart. He wanted her, and that gave her all kinds of happy butterflies, but he wasn’t ready and he was clearly battling with his emotions. “I’ve got your mom pegged already, Wyatt. She’s not all that. I can handle her. Now, I’ve got to get back to the twins.”

  She made a move, but his hands were still splayed around her waist, and he didn’t let go. He gave a yank and their bodies met, thigh to thigh, hip to hip, pulse to pulse. He kissed her once more, a killer kiss that left her trembling. His gaze sharpened on her, a hot blaze of blue lashing her as he opened the bedroom door. “Mr. Brandt is leaving now.”

  Then he walked out of the room.

  * * *

  The land was dry enough to take the children outside. Lord knew, they all had cabin fever. Getting out of the house for some fresh air seemed like a great idea. Until Mrs. Brandt got wind of it and decided to come along.

  “Too bad my son couldn’t join us today,” she said, pushing the double stroller toward the stables. “We could’ve spent some time together, just the four of us.”

  Brooke let the comment pass. In Genevieve’s eyes, she was just the nanny and didn’t rate in a family outing. Wyatt had a meeting this morning and he wouldn’t be back from Beckon until later this afternoon.

  It was silly how much she missed him. They’d spent the entire weekend together and it had been like a dream. But reality was staring her in the face now. “I’m sure you’ll be able to have more time together before you leave. I think Mr. Brandt would like that. I used to love family outings with my folks.”
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  “You’re from Ohio, right?”

  “Yes, born and raised there.”

  “Do you have any siblings?”

  “Just one brother. Well, technically, we’re not related, but we’re as close as any brother and sister could be. I was in the foster care system and then was adopted by the...the Johnson family.” Eek. She didn’t want to expand on the lies. “But my family is solid and tight. It was my lucky day when Mom and Dad took me in and then adopted me.”

  “I did some charity work for the foster care program. It appears the system worked for you.”

  “I was one of the lucky ones. My good friend was in the system and wasn’t as lucky as I was, but she’s doing well now. She married my brother and life is good.”

  “Is that why you became a nanny?”

  “Oh... I guess. And because I adore children. I babysat my way through high school.”

  “Madelyn was the same way. She adored children. It breaks my heart that the twins will never know their mother. Wyatt was crushed when she died.”

  “It had to be rough.”

  “She was a sweet girl, the perfect match for my son.” Sadness seemed to steal Genevieve’s breath. “I still can’t believe she’s gone. A horrible tragedy. Wyatt wouldn’t have made it through if it wasn’t for his children. Madelyn was the love of his life. He had no choice but to go on.”

  Such strong words. Oh, to love someone so much that you didn’t want to live without them. Yeah, Wyatt would feel that way about Madelyn. Brooke had no delusions about what she was up against. She couldn’t fault Wyatt’s mother. But she had no idea how hurtful it was hearing her go on about Madelyn. Genevieve couldn’t possibly know what Wyatt meant to her.

  They walked in silence the rest of the way, the thick-wheeled stroller bumping over rougher terrain, keeping the twins quiet until they reached the stables and a white-fenced corral. Playful horses nudged each other, then raced around the perimeter in an equine game of tag.