Those Baby Blues

by Sheridon Smythe

  "No.” Todd didn't elaborate.

  Treet literally growled, thrusting luggage into Todd's hands. “Then you can help me carry this stuff inside.” He paused to lift a sarcastic brow. “You can wait until we get inside, can't you?"

  Todd flushed. “Yeah, of course.” His gaze flickered over Hadleigh, who stood in uncomfortable silence. “You must be Hadleigh Charmaine."

  "Yes."

  "I'm Todd Hall, Treet's agent.” He juggled the bright purple backpack Sam had insisted on packing with toys and various other essentials and managed to stick out his hand.

  Hadleigh shook it, wondering if she should tell him that he had something sticky on his hand. She suspected he'd gotten it from Sam's bag. After deciphering the irritation in his quizzical gaze, she kept silent.

  "Let's go inside before I drop this stuff,” Treet grumbled.

  "I-I'll join the girls."

  Treet flashed her an apologetic look that would have melted a wicked witch's hardened heart. “I'll join you in a moment."

  * * * *

  "You followed me to Montana—arriving before me, I might add—just to show me a script?" Without glancing at it, Treet pitched the neatly bound script onto an end table and glared at his agent. “I can't believe you."

  "Treet, this isn't just any script. This is Academy Award material."

  "You've said that before.” Treet waved an impatient hand. “Anyway, I don't care about the Academy Award."

  "Since when?"

  Treet hesitated. They were standing in the rustic family room of the ranch house, the room's impressive, high-beamed ceilings and wide-open space reminding Treet that anyone could walk in. He would have taken Todd to a more private room—but he hadn't had time to check out the place. “You know that I have a personal crisis on my hands.” In his mind it wasn't a crisis, but he didn't have the time or the inclination to try and explain this to his agent. He doubted Todd would have cared. Todd was in the business of making money, not helping his clients solve their personal problems.

  "All I'm asking is that you read it and let me know. The studio wants an answer—preferably tomorrow—and if they don't get it soon they'll cast someone else."

  "Maybe they should.” Treet meant it. Right now acting was the last thing on his mind. Something else Todd would find hard to believe. No one knew his ambitions better than Todd.

  Todd shook his head and looked away, as if he'd decided Treet had lost his mind. “They want you. Look, I understand that you've got things to work out with ... Mrs. Charmaine, but hear me out. Read the damned script and then tell me you don't give a damn. I'm betting you'll change your mind. It's fantastic."

  "I'm not making any promises,” Treet said.

  "Guess I'll have to take my chances.” Todd pointed at the script. “Just don't forget that time is important. They want to start filming next month."

  Treet let out a bark of disbelieving laughter. “You've got to be kidding."

  "No, I'm not."

  "Who's the leading lady?"

  "Julia Roberts."

  Despite himself, Treet was impressed. Julia Roberts was one of the hottest stars around at the moment, and in great demand. His gaze strayed to the script before he sighed and looked away. Dammit, he'd planned this trip to get to know his daughter—and her mother.

  Sensing that he was weakening, Todd said, “You won't be with them every moment, will you? Surely you can find time after everyone goes to bed to read over the script?"

  Treet had other ideas about what he wanted to do after the girls went to sleep, but he'd best keep those plans to himself. “I'll give it my best shot. If I find myself at loose ends, then I'll read it."

  "Good.” Todd pumped his hand and grinned as if he'd won a major victory. “I have faith in you, man. Call me tomorrow. I'll have my phone with me at all times."

  "I'm sure you will. Now get the hell out of here so I can enjoy my vacation."

  Todd made it to the wide, arched doorway leading into the foyer before he stopped and looked back at Treet. “Oh, yeah. I forgot to tell you that I got a call from your ex-girlfriend."

  "Cheyenne?” Treet scowled. What the hell was she up to now? “What did she want?"

  "She asked me if I knew what you had decided to do about the mix-up."

  "I hope that you told her that it was none of her damned business,” Treet said softly, with an underlying layer of steel. He'd hate to lose Todd, but if he discovered the agent couldn't keep his mouth shut about his personal life, he'd have no choice. He valued what few secrets he had.

  Todd grinned. “I did better than that. I told her that you and Miss Charmaine were thinking of becoming one big happy family."

  Treet groaned. “You didn't."

  "I did.” Todd shrugged, looking defensive. “I thought you'd be pleased."

  "I won't be pleased if Cheyenne decides to blab what she knows to the damned papers,” Treet growled. He felt like strangling Todd. Dropping such an outrageous hint to Cheyenne was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. “From now on, don't do me any favors, okay?"

  "Fine. I won't."

  The slamming of the front door a moment later told its own story; he'd pissed his agent off—royally. Treet sighed, thinking it wasn't the first time, and probably wouldn't be the last.

  * * * *

  "Bunk beds! Yea! Look, Caroline, we get to share a room!” In her excitement, Samantha grabbed Caroline and danced in a circle, dragging the less exuberant Caroline along. “This is gonna be fun!"

  Hadleigh stood in the doorway of the bedroom, smiling. She sensed rather than heard Treet slip up behind her. She tensed, half expecting him to put his arms around her waist. It would have been a ‘Treet’ thing to do. Without turning, she whispered, “You sent Brutal ahead to fix this room up for them, didn't you?"

  "Yeah. I figured they'd like sharing a room."

  The ‘room’ was a dream come true for a child—or in this case—children. Along with the bunk beds, there was a walk-in closet, a huge pine toy box overflowing with games and dolls, two dressers, two chests of drawers, a desk, and an entertainment center with a television, DVD player, and stereo. Her gaze landed on the stack of Disney movies by the TV. The only one that looked new was ‘Sleeping Beauty.'

  Her brow rose. She tilted her head to look at him. “Do you really think they'll stay awake through the whole movie?"

  Treet's vivid blue eyes gleamed with a devilish light. “We're going to watch it with them—armed to the hilt with super soakers.” He curled hot fingers around her arm, sending a jolt of lightning into her belly. “Come on. I'll show you your room."

  They hadn't gone far when Treet paused and opened a door to his left. Hadleigh followed him inside.

  The room was lovely, with an old-fashioned four poster bed covered with a beautiful blue velvet quilted comforter, matching chest, and dresser. A quick peek in the bathroom revealed—to her delight—a deep, claw-foot tub.

  With a helpless shrug, she turned to Treet. “It's lovely."

  "I'm glad you like it. This is your vacation—"

  "No.” She couldn't let him get by with saying it again. “This isn't a vacation. We're here to get to know our daughters and to figure out what we're going to do about the—the—"

  "Situation?” he supplied. “I agree, but why can't you enjoy yourself while you're here? Is it a crime to be comfortable? To have fun?"

  They were interrupted by Caroline's startling bellow.

  "I'm telling my Daddy!"

  Immediately following Caroline's shouted declaration came Sam's equally loud, “And I'm telling my Mom!"

  Hadleigh met Treet's startled gaze. “Their first fight?"

  "Sounds that way. We'd better referee."

  * * * *

  "You'd make a good diplomat,” Hadleigh told Treet later that night as they tucked the girls into bed. The same bed—the coveted bottom bunk.

  They had discovered that both girls were afraid of heights.

  "Ah, shucks,” Treet
drawled. “I'm just doin’ my job, ma'am."

  "You do it well.” And she meant it. Okay, so she believed in not spoiling a child, and Treet seemed to lean toward giving them the moon. Who was to say she was right and he was wrong? Caroline was a sweet, sensitive person despite Treet's spoiling of her. Perhaps together they could give them balance.

  Together.

  Was she, then, considering sharing Sam with Treet? How could she not, when he looked at Sam with such love and yearning? And Caroline ... sweet, wonderful Caroline. Hadleigh couldn't imagine life without her, now. The little dark-eyed girl already had a firm grip on her heart.

  And Sam loved Caroline—it was plain to see.

  She seemed to like Treet, as well, which was a shock.

  Hadleigh gave the covers one last tuck, kissed their soft, flushed cheeks, and stood. They lay side by side, with Caroline's favorite dolls, Amber and Gertrude, squashed between them. Sam slept on her back with one arm flung upward on the pillow; Caroline slept on her side, knees bent, hands tucked beneath her cheek.

  Treet tapped the book he held in his hand, then sighed dramatically. “Another failed mission to educate them on Sleeping Beauty,” he said. “But tomorrow night we watch the movie—all of us. Are you with me?"

  Slanting her hand against her forehead in a mock salute, Hadleigh said, “Yes, sir. I'm with you all the way, sir.” Bad choice of words. “Just waiting for you to issue my weapon,” she added hurriedly.

  He laughed, his warm gaze heating her blood. “You want to have a nightcap with me?"

  She was tempted, oh, Lordy was she tempted, but she was also determined to keep things platonic between them. For the girls’ sake. Oh, hell. For her sake as well. It would be too easy to lose her head over Treet.

  Not to mention her heart.

  "I'd love to, but I have work to do, then I'm going to hit the mattress. I'm beat."

  He didn't bother hiding his disappointment. “Good night, then."

  "Good night, Treet."

  They walked to the door, Hadleigh behind Treet. She reached out to flick the light switch at the same instant Treet did the same. Their fingers tangled. She swiftly drew them away.

  Treet turned off the light, then snaked his hand around her neck. His lips covered hers for a brief, soul-shattering kiss. “Scaredy Cat,” he whispered huskily.

  Before she could defend herself against his very accurate description, he released her and walked away.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Thirteen

  What had he expected?

  Alone in the family room, Treet nosed a log around with the tip of the poker, squinting against the bright shower of sparks that shot upward through the chimney. It was not yet eleven P.M., and he was restless and not the least bit sleepy.

  He couldn't stop thinking about the two new girls in his life.

  Samantha, with her bright, mischievous eyes, and Hadleigh, with her determined air and toe-curling smile. Both captivating in their own unique way. Without even trying, Samantha had stolen his heart.

  He suspected that with little effort, Hadleigh could as well.

  It was the effort part that was causing the trouble. She'd told him in no uncertain terms that she wasn't about to get intimately involved with him. Never mind that her eyes seemed to darken to jade when he looked at her, or that he could feel her quiver each time he touched her.

  God, he could still taste her mouth, a hint of cherry from the lip balm he'd watched her roll across her luscious lips just before they landed on the private air strip in Burlington. The kiss had been brief, but searing. Arousing. Making him hunger for more. Making him ache in way that he hadn't ached in a long time.

  Perhaps he could sneak into her room for a quick peek, see if she was still working, or if she'd quit and gone to bed. He could claim he couldn't sleep—which wasn't a lie—and persuade her to join him in front of the fire.

  Treet chuckled ruefully. Perhaps Brutal was right; maybe he had gone too long without feminine company—other than Caroline's, that is. It wasn't as if he hadn't had the opportunities. In his line of work, opportunities were often and many.

  Yet Hadleigh was the one that he wanted to be with. Hadleigh was the one he wanted to kiss. Hell, Hadleigh was the one he wanted to make love to! In front of the fire. Outside beneath the big Montana moon. In her big four poster bed.

  In fact, the kitchen table looked sturdy enough to hold them, too. He had a sneaking suspicion making love to Hadleigh would be unforgettable.

  He'd most definitely like to test his theory.

  But Hadleigh was fighting it, fighting the attraction she didn't try to deny. She believed they would be making a mistake in getting involved.

  Treet didn't agree, but he knew something that Hadleigh didn't, and probably wouldn't believe. He didn't just lust after Hadleigh; he truly enjoyed her company, her personality, and a whole lot more.

  What a couple they would make.

  The sudden thought startled Treet, and reminded him of the fat lie his agent had told Cheyenne, about him and Hadleigh becoming one big, happy family. He hunkered before the fire and stared at the flames. It did have a nice ring to it, and there was no denying the fact that they would all benefit from the union. Caroline and Samantha could be together all of the time, and he and Hadleigh would have both daughters.

  He sighed, remembering the one flaw in his daydream; Hadleigh didn't seem to be that crazy about him. She was an honest, decent, level-headed woman. He couldn't see her agreeing to marry him just so they could all be together. He knew she was attracted to him, but he also suspected attraction wouldn't be enough for Hadleigh. She was an old-fashioned girl—if he knew nothing else about her, he'd figured that much out. No, with Hadleigh it would be all or nothing, and the fact that he was a famous movie star didn't matter one whit to her. She wasn't easily influenced, which was one of the things that he admired most about her.

  Not that he had given up on trying to influence her to his way of thinking, which involved getting to know each other on a more personal, intimate level.

  Treet rose from his position by the fireplace, stuck his hands in his jean pockets, and mused on how he was going to pass the time until he expelled the majority of this restless energy that always seemed to hit him in the late evening hours. His gaze landed on the script lying where he'd pitched it on the end table. He guessed it wouldn't kill him to read it, if only to pacify Todd, who really had been a good agent.

  He picked up the script and headed for one of the matching brown leather recliners by the fire.

  Ten minutes later Treet was deeply engrossed in the story. His excitement grew with each page he turned. Todd hadn't been exaggerating. The script was fantastic, the characters well-fleshed and memorable, and the plot nothing short of brilliant.

  As Treet continued to read, an idea began to emerge. The more he considered it, the more excited he became.

  If he took the part, he'd need to start getting a feel for the character, and the sooner the better. Todd had said the production company wanted to start filming next month, and Treet wasn't a slouch when it came to learning his lines before a shoot.

  But he needed someone to stand in for the leading lady. Grinning to himself, he backtracked to the love scene in the first act. A little too mild for what he had in mind, but that could be changed using his imagination and the computer he'd found in Clint's well-equipped office.

  There was the little matter of convincing Hadleigh to stand in for the leading lady, but with a little luck and a lot of guile, he just might succeed. Feeling naughty and more excited by the moment, Treet carried the script with him to the office.

  Once inside, he pushed the power button on the computer. As an afterthought, he retraced his steps and locked the door.

  * * * *

  Hadleigh awoke the next morning with a start. She lay still, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling until she remembered where she was. With a contented sigh, she closed her eyes, allowing herself the lu
xury of remembering the dream she'd been having about Treet that involved soft, fragrant hay, and a lot of shocking, naked flesh.

  Hers and his.

  Eventually she noticed the silence, and silence in conjunction with Samantha usually meant trouble. The last time Hadleigh awakened to silence, she'd found Samantha in the kitchen making pancakes.

  It had taken her an hour to clean up the mess, and another half-hour to clean up Samantha.

  Logic reminded Hadleigh that she wasn't alone and neither was Samantha, but habits were hard to break. She got dressed in record time, slipping on a pair of jeans and a black sweater before padding down the hall in her bare feet.

  The girls’ room was empty.

  She continued on, finally hearing the faint sound of someone humming. The sound led her to the kitchen, a huge, cheery room filled with old-fashioned country charm. Copper pots hung from the ceiling above an oak kitchen island; potted plants sprawled in the window sill above the sink. The air was scented with cinnamon and coffee.

  Trudy stood at the sink with her back to Hadleigh, peeling apples and humming to herself.

  "I overslept,” Hadleigh stated, wincing as Trudy let out a startled gasp. “Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Where is everyone?"

  "Riding pony.” Trudy flashed her an apologetic smile. “English not so good, but better every day."

  Hadleigh helped herself to a cup of coffee, gratefully sipping the hot brew. “I don't usually sleep this late."

  "Mr. Miller, he said let you sleep.” Trudy shrugged, still smiling. “He pay me good, no argue. You want breakfast?"

  She shook her head. “No, thanks, Trudy.” Sliding onto a stool at the breakfast bar, Hadleigh hesitated, then plunged on, “By the way, I don't expect you to look after Samantha while we're here. I know you have enough to do without having to take care of another child. Also, I'm going to help you with the housework and the cooking."

  But Trudy was laughing and shaking her head before Hadleigh had finished her speech. “I have help. Mrs.... Mrs. Spencer help me.” The woman beamed, obviously happy to have pronounced Spencer right. “She live here—she help out.” Intercepting Hadleigh's stubborn glance, she added, “I like to cook, clean, care for kids. Mr. Miller good to me. Sam good kid. Caroline good kid. You have fun, don't worry so much."