Candy had pouted and declared that the babies belonged to her. As if they were possessions. As if she hadn’t signed them over to Sam.
But she could still take them back. And now, she might, although for today she’d backed off.
Since their argument, Sam’s emotions had been roaring around like a lion in search of prey, ready to pounce on anything that moved. She regretted venting at Lori. Her friend hadn’t spoken to her in more than half an hour since then, and who could blame her?
If only Sam didn’t feel strung as tight as a wire, she might be able to focus her thoughts.
Pacing through her house, holding Courtney and a bottle that the agitated baby refused to suck, Sam seemed unable to calm down. From a bassinet, Colin’s hungry cries scraped on her nerves. At least Connie, settled on Lori’s lap, appeared to be taking her formula.
Lori. Today, her friend had done far more than Sam had a right to expect. “I’m sorry I overreacted.”
“You freaked out.” Lori’s hazel eyes regarded her accusingly.
“I apologize. For everything. My rotten mood. My ingratitude.” She hoped that wasn’t too little, too late. “By the way, who did you call earlier?” She’d heard Lori talking on the phone, but hadn’t caught the gist of the conversation.
“Jared. And…” The nurse bit back whatever she’d started to reveal. “And who?”
“I called my ex-fiancé to come over and help with the babies. Isn’t that enough?”
“And who else?” Suspicion threatened to overbalance Sam’s delicate restraint. “Lori, you have no business going behind my back.”
“You aren’t rational today.”
“I’m rational at an elevated hormonal level, that’s all. Early menopause combined with unplanned motherhood.”
“Is this a new medical condition?” her friend grumbled. “It sounds more like an excuse.”
“And a pretty poor one, at that.” Although Samantha intended the remark to be humorous, it failed to draw a smile. Mercifully, though, Courtney began sucking at the bottle, and Colin’s cries had subsided. Perhaps he’d fallen asleep.
At a knock on the door, Lori half jumped from her seat. “I’ll get it.” She took Connie with her.
Sam drew in a deep breath. If her friends could watch the babies for a while, she might be able to sleep. Or, more important, call Tony for advice about heading off any attempt by Candy to assert her rights. The worst part was the acknowledgment that girl was so irresponsible, she shouldn’t be allowed near the triplets, let alone have a chance at reclaiming them. If Sam hadn’t been so blindly optimistic, she’d have faced that fact months ago and helped Candy arrange…
What? A home for the triplets with a two-parent family? But then Sam would have lost her chance to love and cherish them.
For once in her life, she wasn’t sure what the right course would or should have been.
From the front doorway, she detected two male voices: Jared’s light tenor, and a deeper tone that had an amazingly soothing effect on her. Rounding a corner, she got a clear view of the entryway. There stood Mark in slacks and a knit golf pullover, his powerful frame overshadowing Jared’s slender build.
She could have sworn Jared and Lori wore guilty expressions. Mark looked determined.
She must be a mess, Sam reflected. But she was too tired to care. And glad as she felt to see him…everyone…she couldn’t muster the energy to conduct a polite conversation.
“I already hosted one party today, so forgive me if I’m not in the mood to entertain,” she said wearily. “Thanks for dropping by, guys. Are you here to babysit?”
“Not exactly.” Mark studied her with resolve. Why did she get the sense that he’d come here for a purpose? “Please hand Courtney to Jared.”
His tone struck Sam as odd. Instinctively, she resisted. “She’s doing fine. Colin’s the one who needs to be fed.”
“Let me see her, okay?” With a shy smile that made his mustache twitch, the neonatologist held out his arms. Puzzled, Sam yielded her little charge.
Mark kept his gaze fixed on Sam. “You know how much we care about you, right?”
“What?” Dazedly, she wondered if everyone was behaving strangely or if she was simply imagining it.
“You’re one of the toughest, most accomplished people I know,” Mark went on. “We’re lucky to have you in our lives.”
“Wait a minute.” His words rang a bell. “This almost sounds like an—”
“But lately, you’ve driven yourself to exhaustion,” he continued.
If she agreed with him, maybe he’d stop talking like a shrink. “I admit, I could use a few hours of sleep. Things went haywire today.”
“You went haywire today,” Lori put in.
“I need a nap,” Sam conceded, again.
“You need a break,” Mark said levelly. “A nice long one.”
“In an institution with padded walls and locks on the doors?” she returned irritably.
“Do you honestly believe you’re in any shape right now to be responsible for three infants?” Mark persisted.
“The night nurse will be here in…” How many hours? Seven? Eight? “Well, whenever.”
“I’ll arrange for her to come to my house,” said Jared, who had tipped Courtney’s bottle at a jaunty angle that the baby seemed to like.
“Your house?” Sam repeated dully.
“We’ll set up a temporary nursery,” Lori told her. “That way, you can get some uninterrupted rest.”
And Candy wouldn’t be able to find them, so there’d be no immediate confrontation. “Not a bad idea,” Sam agreed. “I’ll bring my sleeping bag.”
Mark took her arm and steered her toward the bedroom. What was he doing? she wondered, feeling that she ought to shake him off but too grateful for his strength to react. “You’re going to pack an overnight case. You won’t need a sleeping bag but be sure to bring warm clothing.”
“What’s wrong with this?” Sam indicated the clothes she had on. “Okay, I may have spilled some formula on the sweater, but…”
“You aren’t going to Jared’s house,” Mark told her as Lori retrieved Sam’s keys from a hook. “They’ll transfer the car seats, pack up the babies and drive them to Jared’s. You’re coming with me.”
She blinked. “Mark, there’s no reason for me to sleep at your house.”
“We aren’t going to my house.” Holding her elbow, he spoke so close that his voice vibrated through her. “Sam, I don’t want you driving and I don’t want you staying alone. Accept my help, for once.”
“But where—?”
“You’ll find out when we get there.”
They were running an intervention. Saving Samantha from herself. Any idiot—well, any idiot in the medical profession—could see that.
She didn’t need saving. For crying out loud, she was the person who saved others. Like Candy, except that today Candy had accused her of being selfish and manipulative. Like the counseling clinic, except that Sam still had no idea how to assure its future. Like the teen moms, except that all they’d done at the party was whine because she hadn’t provided a live band.
How had things become so messed up?
Somehow, while these thoughts were rattling around her brain, Sam managed to stagger into the bedroom and stuff fresh clothing into a small suitcase, along with a few reports she’d been meaning to read. Ducking into the bathroom to grab her toiletries, she got a shock when a witch loomed in the mirror. Could this Medusa-like creature really be her?
She burst into tears.
The worst of it was that she had to sob without making any noise. Because if Mark heard her, he might storm in here, grab her pathetically wrecked self and haul her off to…where?
She couldn’t bear it if he turned her over to a crew of rehab specialists who talked in the first person plural, as in, “Now, Samantha, we shouldn’t take responsibility for the entire world on our shoulders, should we?”
Sam felt certain she would commit v
icious and unlawful acts if anyone spoke to her like that.
Taking a deep breath, she recalled her mother’s advice that when chaos threatened, she should start with the things she could control. So she returned to the bedroom, grabbed clean jeans and a clingy pink sweater, and went to take a shower.
While blow-drying her hair, she noted with approval that the sweater did wonders to emphasize her breasts. If she had to spend the weekend feeling like a failure, at least she could make Mark uncomfortable in the process.
In the living room, she found him sitting on the sofa, feeding Colin. Significant amounts of baby gear had vanished, presumably into Lori’s and Jared’s cars. Outside, she heard them discussing the correct method of installing an infant seat in Lori’s subcompact.
Startling, the things a neonatologist and a nurse didn’t know, when they’d never actually had children.
“This is an intervention for them, right?” Sam joked. “To get them together?”
Mark didn’t miss a beat. “You bet. It’s like a soap opera in the delivery room these days, with his longing gazes and her red-rimmed eyes. This has to stop.”
She set her suitcase on the floor and tossed a windbreaker over it. “Are we going somewhere on a boat? I should warn you, I get seasick.”
“No clues.” At a coo from Colin, Mark bathed the infant in a warm smile. “Are we done, little man? Ready for Doc Rayburn to burp us?”
Sam grimaced. “Do me a favor. No ‘we’ and ‘us,’ okay?”
“Why not?”
“Reminds me of the wrong kind of men in white coats.”
Lori banged in through the door. “Jared’s heading off with the girls. Is Colin ready for his close-up?”
“You really think this will work?” Sam asked.
Her friend regarded her with uncertainty.
“Exposing Jared to all these babies to turn him off having children,” Sam clarified. “You should cancel the special nurse so he has to get up and down with them.”
“I already did that while you were in the shower. Although not for nefarious reasons. I just didn’t think we needed her.” Cautiously, Lori asked, “You’re not mad at me for calling in reinforcements?”
“I plan to make Mark suffer appropriately,” Sam assured her. “And I forgive you if you’ll forgive me for calling you bossy. You never did accept my apology.”
“I forgive you—even if you are overbearing and irrational,” Lori said cheerfully, and scooped up Colin.
Mark collected Sam’s luggage. She locked the house, Mark tucked her into his passenger seat, and off they went into the unknown.
The only explanation for her meekness, Sam decided, was that she truly had reached the end of her resources. Either that, or someone had drugged her.
On the plus side, she caught Mark stealing a peek at her sweater. She’d have teased him about that, but she couldn’t keep her eyelids from drifting shut.
SAM FELL INTO A DEEP SLEEP that lasted the entire two-hour drive to the mountain community of Big Bear. Although Mark was relieved, he wished she didn’t have to miss the gorgeous scenery. Late-autumn rains had transformed California’s brown summer landscape into an explosion of wildflowers and greenery. As they approached the 7,000-foot level, pine trees scented the chilly air, and he turned on the car heater for the first time that year.
He could swear Sam’s condition was improving already. The farther they got from Orange County, the healthier the color of her pale skin. As for the form-fitting pink top with its V-neck, did she have any idea how that affected a man?
He didn’t intend to do a damn thing about it. This weekend was an intervention, not a seduction.
Luckily, the cabin hadn’t been rented this week. Tourism was slow due to a lack of snowfall, even though many resorts offered artificial snow on their slopes.
Mark had a spare key, and he kept clothing and toiletries in a locked closet at the cabin. He’d even arranged for a cleaning crew to tidy up after they left. The only catch had been the possibility that Sam might go ballistic.
Instead, she’d crashed. Still, he didn’t kid himself. Once she awakened, he might face a battle royal, but surely she wouldn’t insist on interrupting Lori and Jared’s chance at reconciliation. Her comment might have been intended as a joke, but he wished he’d thought of that angle himself when he planned this intervention for Sam.
Mark turned off the highway and followed a route through narrow streets lined with tall pines. Every now and then, he glimpsed a flash of blue from Big Bear Lake below them, before turning onto a bumpy street where cabins lay at odd angles to accommodate the terrain. Unlit strings of Christmas bulbs swathed several of the houses, and on one lawn, a cartoon reindeer and a Santa stood poised for their turn to shine after dark.
While the sky was overcast, no wind disturbed the overhead branches, Mark noticed. Accustomed to southern California’s mild climate, he hadn’t thought to check a weather forecast, but he doubted they were in for anything severe.
Still, you never could tell.
He swung onto a gravel turnaround and braked to a halt in front of his A-frame. Rough logs gave the exterior a rustic feel, and pine needles crunched beneath his shoes as he stepped out.
Leaving Sam to sleep, he toted her suitcase inside and checked the place. As he’d hoped, the rental agency kept the kitchen stocked and the bathroom and bedroom prepared with towels and sheets.
Outside again, he paused to study Sam through the passenger window. Guiltily, he noticed that she’d huddled in the seat, hugging herself against the cold despite the jacket he’d laid over her.
He tapped the glass, then opened the door. Still sleeping.
“Sam?” Mark crouched beside her.
“Grrr.” Was she snarling or shivering?
“Wake up. We’re here.”
“Beat it.” Matted blond hair hid her expression.
“Are you talking in your sleep or giving me a hard time?” he asked.
“Both.” She stirred and peered at him. “Where are we?”
“Mountains.”
She inhaled. “Mmm. Chilly weather makes me think of hot cocoa.”
“If you’re willing to lurch a few yards, I promise you all the cocoa you can drink.” The rental agency always laid in a supply of that after-ski essential.
Sam stretched and covered a yawn. Her movements dislodged the jacket and provided another tantalizing glimpse of lovely curves revealed by a top so tight-fitting it ought to be outlawed.
“Getting. Up. Now.” She swung her long legs out of the car and fixed Mark with a steely blue assessment. “Tell me this isn’t an institution for the criminally bewildered.”
“It’s my vacation cabin,” he told her.
She tilted her face toward the sky. A white flake landed on her nose. “Is that snow?”
“Just a flurry.” When Mark glanced up, a couple more flakes dampened his cheeks. “At least, I hope it’s nothing more.”
“We might be stuck here for a long time.” Sam sounded merry. “I’ve never been snowbound.”
Before Mark could protest that his schedule simply wouldn’t permit him to get stuck in the mountains, she trotted ahead of him into the cabin. For better or worse, he’d whisked her away.
And now he had to make the best of it.
Chapter Twelve
At this elevation, they were literally in the clouds, Sam saw as she turned in the living room and gazed through the A-frame wall of windows. Trees, lake, snatches of fog, drifting bursts of whiteness. This entire cabin might simply float away as in—what was that children’s book she’d loved?—ah, yes, Howl’s Moving Castle.
Impulsively, she headed up the narrow staircase to the loft, where a wide sofa bed faced straight out into the heavens. “I’m sleeping up here!” she called over the railing to Mark, who was prowling through the kitchen cabinets.
“There’s no privacy,” he said, straightening. “I put your suitcase in the back bedroom.”
“You just want the lo
ft for yourself.”
“That, too.” He considered her assessingly. “Let’s play for it.”
“Play what?” Sam’s competitive instincts surged even before she heard the details.
“Scrabble?”
“I’m not a word person.”
“Dominoes?”
“Sissy stuff! Got a couple of swords?” She’d excelled in fencing as an undergrad at UC Berkeley.
“How about wrestling?” he called back.
“Why, Mark, I didn’t know you cared.”
He had the grace to blush. “You’re out of my weight class, anyway.”
The altitude was beginning to offset the bracing effect of the cool air. Feeling slightly woozy, Sam descended. “We’ll figure out the sleeping arrangements later. Where’s my cocoa?”
“Gee, you’re pushy.” Mark grinned.
“You’re the one who brought me here,” Sam reminded him. “What exactly happens at this intervention, Doctor?”
“You leave all your cares behind,” he said.
“Done.”
“That easily?” Standing behind the counter that divided the kitchen from the living room, he produced a couple of mugs and a tin of hot chocolate mix. As he filled the cups, the casual slacks and pullover emphasized a ruggedly masculine build that Sam would definitely enjoy wrestling.
Tearing her thoughts away, she responded to his question. “Sometimes I feel like I absolutely have to fix things, get them right, save the world. To the point of collapse, as you’ve seen. But up here, I can’t do a thing about any of it, so why worry?”
His forehead furrowed as he clinked around fixing their beverages. “You said you’re an adrenaline junkie.”
“Sometimes I need help breaking loose,” she admitted. “Now that it’s done, what’s next on the agenda?”
“Whatever you want.”
“Anything?” she murmured.
He paused with a spoon in his hand. “What would you like?”
A simple response sprang to mind. You. “There’s one method scientifically proven to relax people faster than anything else.”
The Holiday Triplets Page 11
