Ten Acres and Twins (7 page)

Which made him the enemy.

She did everything she could to ignore him as they started across the farmyard together. She tried to conjure up the plain and waspish country woman that should be a powerful bachelor repellant, but the image eluded her in the moist August heat.

As they walked along the narrow, wooded path that led into the orchard, the shadows seemed too enchanted, the air too heavy.

Many of the fruit trees had been harvested over the past few months, but a few late peaches and early apples were ripe, making the air smell divine.

The perfection of the moment and the charm of the man worked together to cause her guard to fall. She even allowed her heart to open up, just a little. Just enough.

“How did your family meet Mr. Epelstein?” Jack asked as they made their way through the first grove of trees.

Abby pulled a leaf sample from a young peach tree and leaned down to inspect its trunk. “Through Mom and Dad's flower shop, I guess,” she said. “He came around on Saturdays when Paige and I were helping out. Often, he'd bring a basket of fruit to exchange for a bouquet for his wife.”

“That must be why you and your sister became gardeners—you spent your childhood in a flower shop,” Jack said from over her shoulder.

Reaching up to pull a peach from a branch, she began to examine it carefully. She started walking again as she put
the fruit to her nose to sniff. “I'm sure that was it,” she said. “When I started college, I flirted with the idea of studying business. It didn't last long, though. I wound up with a degree in horticulture.”

Jack put his hand on her shoulder, stopping her momentarily. Confusion showed clearly on his face. “But you were already divorced when we met four years ago. When did you have time to finish college?”

Abby started to walk again, ignoring the pang of regret when his hand fell away. “I was twenty-two when Paige got married, and I'd been out of college a year. Tim and I met, married and divorced during my senior year.”

“A whirlwind marriage, huh?” Jack said with a chuckle.

“Guess you could call it that,” Abby said, thankful for his flippancy. She really didn't want to go into the details of her single tottery attempt at a lasting relationship.

“If you have a degree in horticulture, why did you insist that Paige and Brian buy the farm?” he asked. “Wouldn't you have been the better choice?”

The complete change of subject made her sense of relief even stronger. “They needed something,” she answered, remembering how glad she had been to see her sister get this farm. “I saw signs of trouble in their marriage, and I wanted to help.”

“Why? They married too young, just as you did. You were divorced, and you survived. Why not just let it go?”

“My marriage is another story,” Abby said. “I don't think Tim ever loved me. Brian and Paige just didn't know how to work out the kinks. Their situation was worlds apart from mine.”

“If he didn't love you, why did he marry you?” Jack asked, putting his hand on her shoulder to stop her again.

“I refused to move in with him,” she said, and then wished she hadn't. But Jack was a sophisticated man—he would understand the difference between moving in with a lover and
moving in with an acquaintance for practical purposes. Surely he would.

One corner of his mouth lifted in a wry, acknowledging smile, but he stayed on the subject. “Still, marriage is a huge commitment.”

“And one Tim took very lightly,” she replied, scowling down at the peach. The pain of her divorce was long gone, but the hurt about her ex-husband's infidelities would remain in her heart forever.

It wasn't about missing Tim, either. She'd realized that a long time ago. Her deepest wound festered because of her complete failure to choose a husband who could even be considered decent. She felt so inadequate in that regard that she didn't think she'd ever regain her confidence.

So she stayed away from men.

She felt Jack's hand slide along her neck and stop just under her chin. He lifted her face with his index finger, until her gaze met his again. “He played around?”

“He played around.”

She couldn't keep the humiliation out of her voice, or off her face. And she felt silly. These days, how many people let a five-year-old mistake affect them so acutely?

Jack didn't say a word, but he took a step closer.

Amazing, she thought, how powerful that man-woman magnetism could be—especially when you hadn't been around it for a while. Just having Jack's blue eyes skim across her face often felt as seductive as a caress. It made her want to relax and enjoy it, for just a moment.

And now, when his thumb rubbed along the hollow in her neck, she couldn't find the will to pull away.

Those charmer's eyes were gazing straight into hers, and were offering much more than a simple glance. They looked so very, very attentive.

She bit her bottom lip, scarcely daring to breathe.

As much as she wanted to avoid getting closer to him, right
now she just wanted to kiss him. And she wanted him to kiss her back.

Wasn't that what he was offering with those eyes? She
ached
for a real, on-the-lips kiss.

The bachelor-repelling plan could start later, when they were out of this enchanted orchard. When this moment had passed. She sighed, wishing she could allow herself just one, single respite. Then she could get back to her lonely resolve.

He took another step closer, bent his head down.

And granted her wish.

E
XCEPT HE MISSED
.

The short, soft peck on the side of her mouth was too short, too soft and ever so disappointing. Afterward, he moved his face back and kept his eyes closed. He licked his bottom lip, as if he was assessing the taste. Then he popped his eyes open and backed up a few steps. “You shouldn't take it personally,” he said. “Men aren't built for long-term relationships.”

She felt cheated of her kiss, and suspected that he'd just stifled his own desire. Scowling up at him, she asked, “You don't think so?”

“Hey, I've been a man for a long time. I know so.”

He started to walk again, but was still headed out toward the edge of the acreage. Abby was ready to go back to the house, so she stood her ground and hollered, “They can be if they love the woman.”

He turned around and yelled, “Old men, not young and virile ones.”

Abby's mouth dropped open. “How old is that? Seventy? Human populations would die out.”

“Maybe not that old, and maybe not every man,” he said as he headed back in her direction. “But a woman shouldn't expect a commitment from a man until he's past the reckless stage.”

When he reached her, she started walking alongside him. “My parents were about twenty when they married,” she pointed out.

“So were mine,” he said. “My feeble excuse for a dad left
when Brian was three. My mother was crushed. She spent the next ten years falling for every man who looked at her.”

“That's too bad, but it isn't always that way,” she said. “Brian and Paige were married at eighteen.”

Abby stopped to put her hands on her hips and glare at Jack. She couldn't fathom a reason for this argument.
She
certainly had no desire to marry again. She just hated his jaded views, regardless of the fact that hers were worse.

“But you said yourself that they had problems, and they were only twenty-two when they died,” he argued.

A wave of grief flowed over Abby, and she felt tears looming. Losing her sister had been the hardest thing she'd ever experienced, making her divorce pale in comparison.

She wondered how much time would have to pass before the sorrow didn't hit her like a sledgehammer.

Brushing her palm across her eyes, she said, “This argument is pointless, and we've had it before.”

The corners of his mouth twitched. “At the wedding.”

Abby grinned back, remembering the preposterous end to Paige's wedding. Abby had been divorced only a few months at the time, and had been reluctant to attend a gathering where she would be expected to mingle and laugh. She had sat most of the evening alone, watching everyone else have fun.

Eventually, Jack had forced her onto the dance floor. He had used his legendary charm to put her at ease, and had flirted with her mercilessly.

She'd been swept off her feet, until one of them had mentioned the bride and groom. Their opinions about the future of that union were so opposite that they had declared immediate warfare. In fact, their argument had gotten so heated that the entire crowd had stopped to watch.

“We pretty much ended their reception,” she said with a chuckle.

He laughed and shook his head. “That we did.”

The absurdity of the whole situation struck Abby, who
stopped walking and laughed in turn, letting the tension flow from her body.

After a while, she put a hand to her belly and looked across at Jack again. He had stopped, too, in front of a young pear tree. His face was shadowed by its branches as he stood watching her, but she could see his teeth.

He was smiling, seeming to enjoy the laughter he had provoked. He was a charmer, all right.

She arranged her face in a serious expression and began to walk toward the house again. When she felt his arm drop softly across her shoulders, she nearly missed a step.

She needed to shrug it off.

She hadn't counted on liking him, but he seemed to be coming into a difficult situation with a cooperative spirit, and she'd have to be callous to refuse his offer of friendship.

She let the arm stay, but forced herself to remain quiet, until his next comment. “Who'd ever have believed that the two people whose shouting match was the talk of the town that spring would be moving in together four years later?”

Abby's runaway laughter lasted all the way to the house.

Luckily, Sharon arrived with the twins a few minutes later. Abby found it hard enough to keep her mind on her goal when she and Jack were sparring, but the shared laughter made him that much more attractive. It brought him too close, which was something she couldn't afford.

As she introduced Jack to Sharon in the farmhouse kitchen, Abby tried to ignore the easy chatter that flowed between the two of them, about barbershops and computer games.

She tried harder to ignore the sly wink her friend directed her way as she left. Sharon might be perceptive, but she didn't know everything.

As soon as they were alone again, Jack carried Wyatt down the hallway and returned moments later with a paper bag. He buckled Wyatt into a high chair, removed a shiny purple train engine from the bag and put it on the tray.

Wyatt squealed and kicked his feet, seemingly pleased to
be sitting up so high. Next, Jack produced a similar toy for Rosie, except hers was a red caboose.

Smiling, Abby fitted her into the seat. “You're just full of surprises,” she told Jack. “What else do you have in that bag? Anything for me?”

His grin got bigger, and he plunged his hand back inside. Abby gasped. She'd only been teasing, but apparently he wasn't. He handed her a small beige box.

Biting her lip, she pulled out a heavy, tissue-wrapped item and removed its protective cocoon. It was a porcelain rosebud. Beautifully crafted, its shape was an exact replica of a Gemini rose. Someone had hand painted the apricot-and-pink tints, and it looked as if it had been plucked from the group of rosebushes near the front door.

“To commemorate a new beginning,” he said.

Abby was silent as she studied the flower. “It's exquisite,” she finally said. “But I can't accept it. You shouldn't be buying me things.”

“It was nothing. And I won't take it back to the store.”

“You keep it, then.”

His jaw tensed stubbornly. “It's yours,” he insisted. “Give it to Rosie someday, if you don't want it.”

Abby sighed in surrender and reached up to kiss him on the cheek, wondering as she drew close if he would still smell good. But he turned his head at the last minute, and their lips collided.

And held.

Even then it could have been a chaste kiss, but she'd also opened her mouth to whisper her thanks. So instead of a smack, it was an openmouthed stunner of a kiss.

His firm flesh slid against hers, nestling in with a sensuality that felt as hot and smooth as mulled apple cider on a brisk fall day.

She opened her eyes in shock.

And then closed them in pleasure.

And somewhere between her whisper and that first heady
taste, she lost herself. The babbling babies faded into the background, and she was aware only of Jack's pliant mouth and the long fingers he rested against her rib cage.

A few seconds later, he stopped. She knew he'd do so eventually, but she wasn't ready yet. She needed more.

She put the rosebud on the table and stepped forward, grabbing his arms to pull them around her waist. Then she tried to grab his lips again, too, with hers.

He backed up about an inch to take a huge, gulping breath, and then plunged forward. Without warning, his mouth opened and his hot tongue dipped inside to tease hers with erotic circles.

A squeal punctured her bubble of euphoria.

Abby opened an eye to look at the twins. Wyatt was smiling at her as if he knew what he had interrupted, and he held his toy out by way of apology.

Absently, she pulled away and took the train, pushing it along on the tray and whispering, “Chuga chuga choo choo.”

When she found the courage to look at Jack again, he seemed just as addled.

“Man, I'm sorry,” he said as he shoved a hand through his hair. “Guess I was just curious.”

“We can't do that again.” She wondered if her trembling voice was at all convincing.

“Of course not,” he said, a little too fast and much too agreeably.

She managed to make it through the rest of the afternoon without throwing herself in his arms again, but her disgusting lack of willpower had been aided by the fact that he'd taken Wyatt into his office and shut the door.

Living platonically with Jack should be easy. Taking care of the twins was work enough, and she had the greenhouse and orchards to keep up, too. She should have no time for anything else.

She needed to pin a copy of her plan to her brain, because so far she'd been too off-kilter to launch it.

Life in the country wouldn't be boring, even to a big city boy, if she kept offering gratitude and sizzling kisses. No matter how homely and argumentative she made herself out to be.

And there was the little matter of the twins, and making Jack realize all of the sacrifices they required. It would be hard to make him feel incapable as long as he kept provoking delighted squeals from the babies with new toys.

When it was time to feed the twins their dinner, she knocked on his door, holding Rosie on her hip. The door swung open to reveal Jack sitting at his desk, attempting to assemble his computer with one hand. The other was wrapped around Wyatt, who was grabbing at wires with a gleeful expression.

She put a hand over her mouth to cover her chuckle with a cough, and then volunteered to feed both babies so he could work awhile longer.

His appreciation of the offer was apparent in his expression, but in actuality she wasn't trying to be overly thoughtful. She just knew it'd be smart to avoid him.

The twins loved their new high chairs, and Abby celebrated a new milestone by serving them a treat of real mashed bananas. Always before, she'd had to feed them on her lap, one at a time. Having two high chairs made her job easier, and that alone was cause for celebration.

She wasn't celebrating a darn thing else.

After the bananas were devoured, Abby put a teething biscuit on each tray, pointed the high chairs toward each other and made herself a turkey club sandwich. As she ate it leaning over the sink, Jack walked into the room.

She tried to ignore him as he opened the refrigerator and stood looking inside. The soft whoosh of the closing door was followed by approaching footsteps. When they stopped, she glanced to where he was standing. Covetous blue eyes were locked on her half-eaten sandwich.

“I haven't bought groceries yet,” he said.

She took a bite. “Umm.”

He watched her chew. “That sandwich looks delicious.”

She swallowed and smiled. “It is.”

“I'd love to eat a sandwich like that about now.”

She took another bite. “Um-hmm.”

He frowned. “I can see you're not going to offer, but maybe we could negotiate a deal.”

“What's that?”

“You make me a sandwich like that and I'll watch the babies for an hour while you do anything you want.”

“An hour?”

“Two hours,” he said. “One big sandwich for two hours.”

Abby kept the sandwich cradled in both hands, but she turned around to lean against the counter and look at Wyatt and Rosie.

They were covered in banana goop and biscuit sludge.

She remembered the making-him-feel-incapable clause of her plan, and nodded. “Deal,” she said. “But you have to give them a bath down here in your bathroom. The one upstairs will be in use.”

He immediately agreed and pulled a chair next to the twins to wait. Abby threw a man-size sandwich together on a paper plate and set it in front of him. She returned to the counter to put things away, but he stopped her.

“No, go on up,” he said. “I can clean up.”

Abby turned around again and frowned. He was offering to clean up, too?

“Hit the tub,” he said, pointing his finger skyward.

All of the cooperation was very nice. They were the perfect roommates…except for the way his eyes had marauded her body when he'd said the word
tub.

Or the way she had thrilled at that heavy-lidded glance.

She'd even had the thought that she might be able to wait till later for her bath, so he could join her.

Then, shocked at herself once again, she suppressed the idea and practically sprinted out of the kitchen.

Good plan, she remembered, to get away from him. And as she started upstairs, she scarcely noticed the sound of his voice as he spoke softly to the babies about the wonders of a big, hearty sandwich. Her only thought was about luxuriating in a long, hot bath for the first time in a few days.

And she absolutely did not think about Jack downstairs, twenty feet away, as she stripped and stepped naked into the tub. Well, maybe just a
smidgen.

By the time she came back down to get the babies and put them to bed, she'd already decided she would hole up in her room with a novel. There was no need to interact with him at all when the babies were asleep. Maybe she could buy herself a small television to set up in her room. She'd stay busy during the day and stay away during the night.

Avoiding his charm should be easy, if she was clever.

 

I
T WAS AN EXCELLENT IDEA
, and it worked for a while.

Long days of constant work and skillful baby-care maneuvering passed by without any blatant displays of lust.

She tended to her plants; Jack tended to his computer. She shared her meals with him; he cleaned the kitchen for her. A couple of times she took the twins with her to run errands, allowing him a few hours of peace.

He returned the favor one afternoon by taking them with him to the barbershop. They all arrived home a few hours later with tamer curls and a new set of wooden blocks.