And Babies Make Five

by Judy Duarte

  Besides, what was she worried about? She’d been wrong about Hector. He was just being nice—for whatever reason. She was the one with the problem—the out-of-control hormones that had her imagination running amok.

  “All right,” she said, crossing her arms and resting them on her belly. “We can eat popcorn and think of it as a slumber party.”

  Hey, why not? A lot of women had friends who were male.

  “I’ve never been invited to a slumber party,” he said, “unless you count the one Bobby Garcia and I crashed.”

  “You crashed a girl’s sleepover?”

  “Yep. And we tapped on windows, rattled chains and made ghostly howls outside their family room. Needless to say, we scared the bejeezus out of them, and when they all started screaming, Cindy’s mom called the police. Bobby and I ran like hell as soon as we heard the sirens.”

  Samantha laughed. “I used to know boys like you.”

  “What can I say? Some of us never really grow up.” He tossed her a playful grin, and as he turned to walk away, he added, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  She nodded, but as he headed home, her thoughts were on tonight and his plans for the evening. What was he going to do between now and morning? Already her house felt empty without him there.

  But she didn’t dare ask. If he had a date, she didn’t want to hear about it. News like that might bother her in a way that it shouldn’t.

  Besides, he was probably right. Staying with him would be better than staying in a hotel, which would be awfully lonely.

  And quite frankly, she’d had enough silence over the last few months to last her a lifetime.

  She and Hector had developed a closeness these past few days she hadn’t expected them to have. Of course, the male/female attraction thing on her part still boggled her mind, but the closer she got to her due date, and the bigger the triplets grew, the less she would think about romance.

  Besides, she needed a friend. And as odd as it sounded, she seemed to have found one right next door—in Hector.

  The next morning, before the painter arrived, Samantha packed an overnight bag to take to Hector’s. She also rifled through the kitchen pantry, looking for all the ingredients she would need to fix dinner for the next couple of nights, including salt, pepper and spices.

  By his own admission, he had a cupboard that rivaled Old Mother Hubbard’s. So assuming he would have very few items to contribute to the evening meal, she loaded up a Green Grocer tote. Then she hauled it, as well as her overnight bag, to his house.

  When he answered the door and found her on the stoop, he reached for the bags. “Let me take those.” As he stepped aside, allowing her in, he peeked into the tote, which was stuffed full. “What’s this?”

  “I thought I’d cook dinner for you tonight, to say thanks for letting me stay.”

  “Ordinarily I’d protest, but I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in ages. This is great.” He led her through the living room, which was tastefully decorated in shades of green and brown. Dark wood cabinets and furniture, a chocolate-colored Italian leather sofa and glass-topped accent tables, definitely gave it a masculine flavor, yet it was also appealing to a woman.

  Or maybe Samantha found it appealing because it reflected Hector’s personality, his style.

  When he showed her the kitchen, which was a lot roomier than her own, she noticed an expanse of green Corian countertops and shiny stainless-steel appliances. She knew it didn’t get much use, so she was looking forward to breaking it in.

  “What would you like for dinner?” she asked.

  “Surprise me.”

  “All right. Do you have any food allergies? Any likes or dislikes?”

  “I’m not big on onions, although I’ll eat them as long as they’re not raw.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “But don’t feel as though you have to go out of your way for me,” he said. “I can pick up something for us and bring it home.”

  “I enjoy cooking, remember?”

  He tossed her a heart-spinning grin. “Then mi casa es su casa—my house is yours.”

  After he placed the grocery tote on the counter, he helped her put away the things that needed to be refrigerated.

  “What are you going to do with the ground turkey meat?” he asked.

  “I’m surprising you, remember?”

  “Okay, but I probably should tell you that I’m not all that keen on turkey.”

  “That’s okay. You’ll never know you’re eating it.”

  He looked skeptical. “Promise?”

  She lifted her hand in a Scout’s-honor fashion.

  The way his eyes sparked, the way one side of his mouth curled up in a smile, made her feel as though their friendship had somehow moved to another level, although she’d be darned if she knew why it would, why it had.

  “Come on,” he said. “I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping.”

  He led her down the hall, and when they passed the open doorway to a room with a king-size bed and a rumpled, forest-green comforter that had been hastily pulled up, she struggled to keep from slowing her pace, from peering inside.

  Not that she’d snoop or touch anything. It was just that she missed the masculine scent, the masculine presence in a house.

  She followed Hector to a smaller guest room decorated in pale shades of green and beige. It was as clean and untouched as a room in a model home. It also blended nicely with the rest of the house, although the colors and the fabrics were softer, more feminine.

  “I’m going to give you a key to the front door so you can come and go as you please.” He also handed over his business card. “And this is where you can reach me. If you need anything, give me a call at the office.”

  “I will.”

  And for some reason, it wasn’t just an automatic response on her part. She would have no qualms about calling him, if she needed to. Hector was proving to be the kind of guy she could rely on, the kind of guy she could…

  …fall for?

  Easy, she warned herself. Single guys didn’t normally date mothers of triplets, especially when the little ones had yet to be born.

  A sudden clarity poured over her, and she realized what had been holding her back from telling him that in four months—or perhaps less—she would give birth to three babies.

  The news was likely to scare him off.

  And she wasn’t ready to see him go.

  Hector called home once during the day and asked if Samantha needed him to pick up anything on the way home.

  “You know,” she said, “there’s a bakery on Highland Drive that’s the best ever. Would you mind stopping by and getting a loaf of French bread?”

  “Not at all. Anything else?”

  “That’ll do it.”

  “Not even dessert?”

  “I’ve got that covered, too.”

  When Hector returned home that night and stepped through the door, he was met with the mouthwatering aroma of tomatoes, garlic and basil.

  “Something sure smells good,” he said as he made his way to the kitchen with the loaf of bread Samantha had asked for.

  When he spotted her at the counter, cutting mushrooms to add to a green salad, he couldn’t help thinking that it would be nice coming home to one of her dinners each night. And that it would be even nicer coming home to her.

  She glanced over her shoulder and offered him a hi-honey-how-was-your-day grin.

  If his day had been lousy, seeing her smile would have turned it around in a heartbeat. And if it had been good, seeing her would only make it better.

  “I hope you like spaghetti,” she said.

  “I do. In fact, I love anything Italian, so you’d better make enough for seconds and thirds.”

  She laughed, and the lilt of her voice nearly bounced off the walls, filling the kitchen with something he could almost touch.

  In the past, whenever things got a little too quiet for him, he would call a couple of the partners in the
firm and meet them at his favorite sports bar. Or if he just wanted to hang out at the house, he’d invite someone over. But ever since he and Roxanne split, he’d stuck close to home, where his state-of-the-art entertainment center provided the only respite from the silence.

  For a while, the solitude had been appealing, but that didn’t seem to the be case anymore.

  He closed the gap between them, the bakery sack in hand. “Is there something I can do to help?”

  “No, I’ve got everything under control.” She took the bread from him, then turned on the oven.

  “What about setting the table?” he asked.

  “It’s already done. But you can butter the bread, if you’d like.”

  “You got it.” He washed his hands, then pulled the loaf out of the plastic bag it had come in and sliced it lengthwise.

  “The butter and garlic mixture is in the little red bowl,” she said. “And the aluminum foil is next to it. As soon the bread is out of the oven, we can eat.”

  They stood at the counter, side by side. It felt good to work together, to be together. They’d become a team of sorts.

  He slid a glance her way, watched her whip up some vinegar, oil and spices for the dressing.

  “I take it you really enjoy entertaining,” he said.

  “Not for a large group. But cooking dinner is fun, especially tonight. While I was in Europe, I ate every meal out. So it’s nice to be able to cook again. And to have someone else to eat with.”

  Ten minutes later, they were seated at the formal dining table, a fancy piece of furniture the decorator had insisted was perfect. He liked it, even though it had cost a pretty penny. But he hadn’t had much use for it before tonight.

  Earlier, Samantha had removed the artificial centerpiece and replaced it with a vase of fresh daisies and tapered white candles. He assumed the flowers had come from his backyard, but he’d never seen the crystal bud vase or the candlesticks before.

  “Where’d you find these things?” he asked as he twirled the spaghetti onto his fork.

  “I brought them from home.”

  His hand froze, and the strings of the pasta slipped off the tines. “You shouldn’t have gone back in that house, Samantha.”

  “I didn’t. I saw the painter while he was taking his lunch break and asked him to get them for me.”

  They resumed eating, and true to his word, Hector had both seconds and thirds.

  As he finally pushed back his plate, he said, “This is the best spaghetti sauce I’ve ever had.”

  “I’m glad you like it.” She lifted her napkin and blotted her lips. “And by the way, the turkey you’re not particularly fond of…?”

  “You’re kidding.”

  She smiled. “Surprise!”

  “You’re full of them, aren’t you?”

  Their gazes met and held, as sexual awareness stretched between them. At least, that’s what it felt like to her. But how could that be happening?

  Afraid her imagination had taken off on a tangent again, she broke eye contact and stood to clear the table. “Are you ready for dessert?”

  He placed a hand on his stomach. “I wish I wouldn’t have had that third helping of spaghetti. Can I wait until my dinner settles?”

  “We can pass on it completely.”

  “There’s no need to do that.” Hector stood and picked up his plate and utensils. “What are we having?”

  “Ice-cream sundaes.”

  His face brightened. “No kidding? I love ice cream.”

  She’d figured that out when she peeked into his freezer and saw all the cartons he’d stacked in there.

  With Hector’s help, they finished the dishes and put the kitchen back in order.

  Then they went into the family room, where Hector put a movie into the DVD. “I hope you like action flicks. This one is supposed to have a romance in it, so I figured it was one we’d both enjoy.”

  They’d just settled onto the sofa, when Samantha’s cell phone rang.

  “Go ahead and answer it,” he said. “I can put the movie on pause.”

  She glanced at the lighted display of her cell, not recognizing the number. Then she flipped open the phone and lifted it to her ear. “Hello?”

  “Samantha?” a female voice said.

  “Yes?”

  “This is Yolanda Ramirez, Hector’s sister. I meant to call earlier today, but one thing led to another, and I just got a chance to catch my breath. I’m not sure what your calendar looks like, but I’d love to meet for lunch one day this week.”

  “Other than a doctor’s appointment on Wednesday, I’m open.”

  “Good. Then how about Thursday at eleven-thirty?”

  “That works for me.”

  “I’m glad. Why don’t we meet at the diner that’s across the street from The Green Grocer? Do you know where it is?”

  “Yes, I do. Good choice.” For some reason, Samantha didn’t want to let Yolanda know where she was right now or who she was with. Had Hector set his sister straight about them yet?

  She glanced at Hector and placed a finger to her lips to indicate silence.

  The two women made small talk for a moment or two, then after saying goodbye and disconnecting the line, Samantha turned to Hector and smiled. “That was your sister. We’re going to get together on Thursday.”

  “I’m glad you two connected. I think you’re going to like each other.”

  As he reached for the remote to start up the movie again, Samantha’s cell rang one more time.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, reaching back into her purse. “I haven’t had a call all day, and now I’m getting them back-to-back.”

  “No problem.”

  But this time, when she glanced at the display and recognized the Keatings’ number, her heart dropped, and her stomach rolled in a nauseous lurch.

  “Do you mind if I take this in the other room?” she asked.

  “No, not at all.” Yet his brow furrowed, and she felt his eyes on her back while she padded out of the family room.

  As she entered the kitchen for some privacy, she answered on the third ring, hoping Marian Keating hadn’t hung up yet. “Hi, Marian. What’s up?”

  “Not much. Randall heard that you’re back in the house on Primrose Lane. Is that true?”

  “Yes, it is. I moved in on Wednesday and was going to invite you both over once I got settled. But there’s been a lot to do.”

  Marian didn’t respond right away, and Samantha wondered if it was because she wasn’t eager to return to the house in which Peter had once lived.

  Hoping to steer the subject in another direction and trying to shake an odd niggle of guilt that seemed to have sprung up for no reason at all, Samantha asked, “How have you been?”

  “I had a little health scare a couple of months ago. My blood pressure shot up to a dangerous level.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “It wasn’t serious, and it’s under control now. So don’t worry. How about you, dear? Are you feeling well?”

  “I’ve never felt better.” She scanned Hector’s kitchen, where she’d spent most of the afternoon, and that niggle of guilt grew stronger.

  “That’s good to hear. But let me tell you why I called, Samantha. Randall and I will be flying to New York this weekend, but we’d like you to come to dinner a week from Sunday. It’s been ages since we’ve seen you.”

  Four months, actually. When Samantha had found out she was pregnant, she’d been tempted to tell her in-laws what she’d done, but she hadn’t been sure if the implantation would take, and she hadn’t wanted to get their hopes up. Then the weeks had turned to months.

  “Thanks for the invitation. It’ll be nice to see you again.” And if it was just going to be the three of them, she could tell them about the babies.

  Actually, she realized, as she stroked her distended belly, she’d have no choice. Her pregnancy would be more than obvious.

  “Will you be having any other guests?” Samantha asked
.

  “Not that I know of, but that could change.”

  If there’s anything Samantha had learned over the past five years, it was that life had a way of changing things—and changing people.

  “Well, I hope it doesn’t. I’m looking forward to an intimate dinner with you and Randall. It will be nice to catch up.”

  “Well, thank you, dear. We’d like that, too.”

  Just to be on the safe side, she would give Marian a call before showing up that day. If there was a change in the guest list and others would be at dinner, Samantha would arrive early and give them the news so they could deal with the surprise privately.

  “I’ll see you a week from Sunday, then. Thanks for inviting me.”

  “You’re welcome, dear. We miss you. And now that you’re closer, we hope to see you more.”

  For the longest time, Samantha had wanted to fit into the Keating family, and now that she was expecting their three grandchildren, she figured she was well on her way.

  Yet she was eager to hang up the phone and return to Hector’s family room, where she’d left him waiting for her.

  She felt a little uneasy talking to Peter’s parents while at Hector’s house. She wasn’t sure how they’d feel about her new friend. And she had no idea how Hector would feel about them.

  As she began to sort through her feelings, the niggle of guilt grew into a fist-size knot.

  How odd, she thought. For a moment, she’d sensed that she was cheating on someone, although she wasn’t sure who.

  Peter?

  Or his parents?

  Chapter Seven

  Halfway through the movie, with Matt Damon in dire straits and the bad guys closing in on him, Hector pushed pause on the universal remote.

  “I’m about ready for that ice-cream sundae,” he said. “How about you?”

  “It sounds good to me.” Samantha, who’d been sitting across the sofa from him, got to her feet.

  As she started toward the kitchen, he stopped her before she could take two steps. “You don’t need to serve me. Wait here, and I’ll get mine and bring back a bowl for you.”

  “But you don’t know where I put all the goodies.” She nearly leveled him with a pretty smile, and he was toast.