Four Times the Trouble
Trouble—Jacob Ryan has it in
spades!
Girl trouble
.
Jacob’s seven-year-old triplets are a handful. Allie
is organizing her teacher to death. Jessie is crying in class. Meggie is
becoming almost reclusive. Jacob is told what the triplets need is a woman
in their lives. But the last thing Jacob needs is to exchange girl trouble
for....
Woman trouble
.
Jacob’s gone that route before. All it did was get
his daughters’ hopes up—his hopes up—only to end in disappointment. Maybe
the answer is to enlist the help of a friend, someone like his partner,
Michelle....
Big trouble
.
Unfortunately, what Jacob begins to feel for
Michelle is more than just friendship. And while Michelle’s willing to be a
surrogate mother to Jacob’s children, it’s going to take a lot of convincing
for her to consider the idea of being a wife to
him
.
Dear Reader,
Home, family, community and love. These are the values we cherish most in our lives—the ideals that ground us, comfort us, move us. They certainly provide the perfect inspiration around which to build a romance collection that will touch the heart.
We are thrilled to have the opportunity to introduce you to the Harlequin Heartwarming collection. Each of these special stories is a wholesome, heartfelt romance imbued with the traditional values so important to you. They are books you can share proudly with friends and family. And the authors featured in this collection are some of the most talented storytellers writing today, including favorites such as Brenda Novak, Janice Kay Johnson, Jillian Hart and Patricia Davids. We’ve selected these stories especially for you based on their overriding qualities of emotion and tenderness, and they center around your favorite themes—children, weddings, second chances, the reunion of families, the quest to find a true home and, of course, sweet romance.
So curl up in your favorite chair, relax and prepare for a heartwarming reading experience!
Sincerely,
The Editors
TARA TAYLOR QUINN
The author of more than fifty-four original novels published in twenty languages, Tara Taylor Quinn is a
USA TODAY
bestselling author with over six million copies sold. She is known for delivering deeply emotional and psychologically astute novels of suspense and romance. Tara won the 2008 Readers’ Choice Award, is a four-time finalist for the Romance Writers of America RITA® Award, a multiple finalist for the Reviewers’ Choice Award, the Booksellers’ Best Award and the Holt Medallion, and has appeared regularly on the Waldenbooks bestsellers list. She has also appeared on national and local TV across the country, including
CBS Sunday Morning.
Tara is the author of the successful Chapman Files series and, with her husband, recently wrote and saw the release of her own true love story,
It Happened on Maple Street,
from HCI books. When she’s not writing, fulfilling speaking engagements or tending to the needs of her two very spoiled and adored four-legged family members, Tara loves to travel with her husband, stopping wherever the spirit takes them. They’ve been spotted in casinos and quaint little small-town antiques shops all across the country.
Tara Taylor Quinn
Four Times the Trouble
In memory of Bill Austin
of KESZ Radio, 99.9 FM, in Phoenix, Arizona. Thank you for your technical supportâ
and years of laughter.
CHAPTER ONE
“I
DON
’
T
KNOW
about you, but that woman can sing to me anytime. That was Celine Dion with ‘The Power of Love’ on KOLR. Hard to believe that song is from 1993, isn’t it? This is the morning drive, getting you to work on time. I’m Jacob Ryan…”
“…and I’m Michelle Colby, on ‘Color,’ your station at the end of the rainbow where we play the best of the old and the new.”
“You wanna do the weather or shall I?”
“You go ahead. You do it so well.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“The weather, Jacob, the weather.”
“Yeah, well, it looks like it’s going to be a hot one here in L.A. today, folks…” He grinned at Michelle. She grinned back. What the…? Great, it was happening again.
Jacob finished the weather report, but he was shaken. For a second there he’d actually wished their banter was more than an act for the show. The prospect of his upcoming meeting this morning must have had him more off kilter than he’d realized.
While Michelle announced a giveaway, he glanced at the AP bulletin that had just come in. Then he leaned toward his mike. “For all of you heading into work this gorgeous Monday morning, let’s check in with Officer Barb Jansen in the traffic ’copter. You there, Barb?” he asked.
“I’m here, Jacob, and we’ve got some good news this morning…” Barb’s voice piped into the sound booth. Jacob shut her off. They had three minutes until they were on again. He needed some peace and quiet.
* * *
“Y
OU
OKAY
?”
Michelle was watching him, a pair of scissors in one hand as she clipped an article out of the local newspaper spread in front of her.
“Couldn’t be better,” he said. It wasn’t true, but confiding in people wasn’t something that came easily to him. He scanned the
Wall Street Journal
online, looking for anything that might interest their listeners.
“You seem a little preoccupied.”
Of course she would notice. And of course she would let him know she’d noticed. They were casual friends, workmates, but that was all. “Hey, who wouldn’t seem a little preoccupied at six o’clock in the morning? It’s called ‘not awake yet,’” he said lightly.
She gave him a pointed look, telling him she wasn’t buying it, but she went back to clipping news articles for them to use on the show. And that was when he realized he was actually tempted to tell her about Friday’s phone call, to ask her opinion. What was wrong with him these days?
* * *
“I
T
’
S
EIGHT
-
O
-
NINE
on this gorgeous February morning, and in just a few minutes we’ll be talking with football superstar Mark Sanchez, so stay right here with us on ninety-four-point-five, KOLR. But first we have a special anniversary wish to send out… .” Jacob clicked off his mike and half listened while Michelle took over to congratulate a couple of Los Angeles natives on their fiftieth wedding anniversary.
Only another hour and he’d be on his way to Lomen Elementary School to tackle whatever crisis awaited him there. The next time they called him from school asking for a conference he was going to insist on meeting with the principal immediately. He’d been driving himself crazy all weekend with possible scenarios of the triple trouble his daughters could have concocted. But really, how bad could it be? They were only seven years old. It wasn’t as if they were at an age to skip classes or be caught smoking in the locker room… .
“What do you think, Jacob? A day at the beach sound good?” Michelle’s voice cut into his ruminations.
He reached automatically for the button that would turn on his mike. “With you?” he asked, a standard comeback. But for once he really thought about what he was saying. He could imagine a lot worse things than a day at the beach with Michelle.
“That depends,” she said.
“On what?” he asked, reminding himself that they’d been trading this kind of banter for almost three years, that it meant nothing.
“On whether or not you plan to wear those ridiculous swim trunks you wore to the company picnic last summer. I gotta tell you, they didn’t do anything for your legs.”
“They hung down to my knees. You couldn’t see my legs.” She was looking at him, but she wasn’t laughing the way she usually did when they played their on-air roles. For the first time in three years, the sound booth seemed small to him.
“My point exactly.” She stuck out her tongue and grinned. So that was that. She’d just been playing with him—as usual.
“Well, I’d love to fill you in on this little racing suit I’ve got, but it’s time to get Mark Sanchez on the line,” Jacob said, a tad peeved. Which was ridiculous. Michelle was doing the same professional job she’d done ever since they’d started cohosting the morning show. He was the one acting weird.
He punched in the blinking button on the phone and looked to Michelle.
“Mark? Michelle Colby here on KOLR. We’re on the air… .”
Jacob sat back, disgusted with himself. Not only was Michelle his partner, she was a married woman. And while Jacob enjoyed the company of women, he stayed away from the married ones—always. Besides, however casual, Michelle was his friend, and Jacob never got involved with his friends—ever.
* * *
H
E
STOPPED
HOME
after the show to change his sweats for a pair of nicer pants. Stepping over three little pairs of sandy beach shoes in the garage, he was glad to be away from the station. His reaction to Michelle that morning was still bothering him. They worked well together. And no matter how beautiful she was, he wasn’t going to let his feelings—whatever they were—mess up a good thing.
He passed through the kitchen, clean except for the cereal bowls, through the living room cluttered with Dr. Seuss books, past a huge bedroom with three unmade beds, to the master bedroom in the back of his beach house. Of course if he was to be honest with himself he’d have to admit that what was bothering him most was how close he’d come to pouring out his concerns over the triplets to Michelle when he was perfectly capable of handling his children’s problems on his own.
His sweats landed in the general vicinity of the laundry basket. He tucked the KOLR T-shirt into his jeans and stepped into a pair of canvas loafers. Glancing in the mirror over his sink, he wondered if he looked as tired as he felt. His hair, dark and a little too long, was slightly mussed but it would do. He was ready to take whatever the school principal had to dish out.
* * *
M
ICHELLE
SPED
along the 405 toward Long Beach, weaving in and out of the traffic with the ease of a California native. She had to get home, far away from Jacob Ryan.
Not once, in all the years since she’d met Brian Colby, had she had feelings for another man. She was in love with her husband, and she hated that Jacob made her forget that—even for a minute.
She exited the 405, past the car dealership where Brian had taken her to buy her first new car, the Thunderbird she still drove. He’d planned the car as a surprise for her college graduation, and he’d preened like a rooster as he’d handed her the keys. They’d driven for hours that night, taking turns at the wheel as they’d traveled along the California coastline.
And then, sometime after midnight, they’d pulled into a deserted cove to look at the stars and had fallen asleep in each other’s arms, cramped in the backseat. Michelle could still almost feel that warm safe haven they’d created, with Brian on one side of her, and the seat back, smelling of new leather, on the other. When the sun finally rose, Brian had teased her that nice girls didn’t spend all night in the backseats of cars. Then, his eyes having grown serious, he’d whispered her name. And he’d promised to love her forever.
Tears blurred Michelle’s vision as she turned into her neighborhood, and she hurriedly blinked them away. She’d promised to love Brian forever, too. Which was why she had no business flirting with another man—especially not Jacob Ryan. If there was one thing Michelle had learned from her parents’ long happy marriage it was that loyalty was everything. Jacob didn’t know the meaning of the word. As much as she valued his friendship, she despised his womanizing. His liaisons were too casual to be considered relationships.
Maybe that was why she had responded to him this morning. After five years of silence, she finally had a small lead on Brian’s whereabouts. She was geared up, coming alive again. And Jacob was safe. He’d never be interested in a woman like her.
She pulled the Thunderbird into her cracked driveway, trying not to notice how run-down the neighborhood had become in the past couple of years. She’d had the house painted. She had her lawn mowed once a week. But while she could certainly afford to have the driveway repaved, she knew that any money she put into the place was money wasted. It was time to move. And she would—just as soon as she found Brian. Until then, she wasn’t budging from the tiny home they’d bought together.
She fumbled with the dead bolt on her front door, anxious to get inside and check her answering machine. Frank Steele, the private detective she’d hired several months before was in Egypt. Brian had been working as a foreign correspondent in Cairo at the time of his disappearance, and Frank thought he’d found someone who might have a lead on his whereabouts. It was the first time she’d heard anything of her husband since he’d ordered breakfast from room service five years ago.
The minute she was in the door her fluffy white cat wrapped herself around Michelle’s legs. No one had ever told Noby that cats were supposed to be standoffish. Michelle scooped up the Persian, rubbing her face in Noby’s soft fur as she hurried to the little bedroom she’d converted into a den.
The red light on her answering machine wasn’t blinking. No messages. Michelle ran the machine through its cycle, anyway, just to be certain it was still working.
“This is the Colbys. We’re not here right n—”
Noby put her soft front paws on Michelle’s cheeks, kneading and purring, as Michelle clicked off the message Brian had recorded so many years ago. Frank had said he’d call as soon as he had something. And unlike the government officials who’d finally given up and pronounced Brian legally dead, Frank Steele
had
to call her. She was paying him a good portion of her salary to do so. It was just a matter of waiting until he had something to report.
* * *
J
ACOB
LOVED
WOMEN
. They intrigued him. Introduce him to a woman, young or old, fat or skinny, and he could usually find something about her to like.
Not this time. From the moment Lomen Elementary School principal Eleanor Wilson ushered him into her office, Jacob didn’t like her. She reminded him of his mother—impossible to please.
But unlike his mother, Ms. Wilson had the power to make Jacob’s life difficult. Which was why he immediately took the seat she indicated, a hard-backed, walnut-colored torture device set directly in front of her slate gray desk. Feeling like he was twelve again, he folded his hands in his lap.
“Mr. Ryan, there are several situations I feel I must make you aware of concerning your daughters.”
Ms. Wilson’s short dark hair looked as stern as she did. Jacob sat up straight and smiled encouragingly. After all, they were on the same side, weren’t they?
“In the past month, Alison, Jessica and Meghan have been to the nurse’s office a total of thirteen times.”
“Thirteen times? That’s crazy. They haven’t been sick.”
“A couple of times Allie brought Jessie in from the playground.”
Jacob tried to relax. “She fell out of the swing again, right? That kid can’t hold on and pump at the same time. She’s too busy creating fairy tales in her head. I swear that Jessie’s going to be a writer some day.”
Ms. Wilson pursed her pale lips. “She didn’t fall out of a swing, Mr. Ryan. They’ve all three been complaining about stomachaches… .”
“But that’s ridiculous. They’ve never once told me their stomachs hurt and they’re eating like a pack of hogs,” Jacob said, thoroughly confused.
“They’ve also had sore throats, headaches, cramps and fatigue.”
Jacob’s hands fell to his sides. “Cramps and headaches? Fatigue? Are we talking about the same bundles of energy that have my house trashed ten minutes after they come home from school?”
Ms. Wilson tapped a pencil against the top of her desk. “They’re a little young for cramps, too, unless you know something we don’t?”
“What? Oh,” Jacob said, feeling stupid. “No, I mean, yes, they’re too young for that.”
“Well, as you can imagine, we’ve become quite concerned—”
“Wait just a minute here.” Jacob leaned forward, placing his palms on the edge of her desk. “Are you implying that I’m not taking proper care of my daughters? Because if you are you can stop right there. Meggie, Allie and Jessie are all healthy as horses. You just have to spend an hour playing with them to know that. Even the sea gulls run for cover when the girls are on the beach. And why am I just hearing about this now after it’s already reached the point where you’re
concerned?
Isn’t it standard to notify a child’s parent when the child isn’t feeling well?”