Ten Acres and Twins (8 page)

She couldn't help noticing that Jack was more considerate than she'd expected, or that his gentle play with the twins was endearing. But at least she didn't offer up her lips in gratitude.

She made sure of that, no matter how often she thought about it.

The idea probably would have worked much longer, except for one slight flaw.

The one about babies waking up at night. And crying.

Usually, Abby could quiet a baby's cry within moments, and usually, the twins woke one at a time. But not always.

Early Friday morning, Rosie woke and began a long, angry wail that sounded hungry. Abby ran to the nursery to pick her up, hoping to avoid waking Wyatt.

She sat in a rocker and cuddled Rosie, reaching over to plunk a bottle in the warmer at the same time. Rosie quieted, and was contentedly playing with Abby's braid and enjoying her bottle when Wyatt woke up.

He began with a whimper that rose to a cry within seconds. Abby carried Rosie and the bottle to Wyatt's crib, hoping to soothe him.

It wasn't often that she had to feed both babies at once, but she'd done it before. She kept talking to Wyatt, but dashed over to put another bottle in the warmer.

“Need some help in here?”

Her eyes flew to the doorway, where Jack was standing in a pair of well-worn gray sweatpants and not much else.

“No, I can handle it,” she answered. She doubted that Jack had heard her, though, since Wyatt's cry had grown to a full-scale bellow.

Jack said something she couldn't hear, and came into the room. She stared at his chest as she sank back down in the rocker. He stopped right beside her, providing a scrumptious view of a lean, flat torso. He pointed toward the bottle warmer.

She pulled her eyes away from places they didn't belong and grabbed the second bottle. “I'm calling this ready,” she hollered. “Will you feed Wyatt?”

He nodded, swooped the boy out of his crib and over to the second chair, and whistled in relief when Wyatt quieted. “This must be why there are two rockers in here,” Jack said.

He was far too civil for someone who'd been awakened at five o'clock in the morning.

She didn't even answer. She didn't know which was more
embarrassing, her shortsightedness for not putting on a robe, or her reaction to seeing him without one.

Good thing Wyatt was there, on his lap, to make Jack think she was looking at the baby. Good thing Rosie was on her lap, too. If she propped the baby up just right, her chest was covered. Maybe he wouldn't notice her embarrassing state of…well, titillation.

He wasn't talking much, either.

She wondered what Mr. Man-About-Town thought about the past week of domestic bliss. Maybe he found it boring, which should be a good thing.

There was the plan and all.

Rosie finished first, so Abby patted her back to let out the bubbles, and went to lay her back in her crib. As soon as she did, she wished she had something to hold, because now she was wandering around the nursery with nothing on but a pair of bikini panties and a long cotton T-shirt.

She felt silly.

She felt naked.

She felt
turned on.

But Jack seemed to be concentrating on Wyatt, and completely unaware of her discomfort. Except for the couple of times when his focus seemed to move past the baby to her chest and down her legs. Then he looked a little disturbed.

She hoped he was. Plan or no plan.

 

D
ON'T THINK ABOUT
A
BBY
that way—she's your roommate. Her breasts are not luscious. All right, even if they are, she's not reacting to you. She's probably cold. Of course her legs would look like that—she makes her living working outside. They are not sexier than any you've ever seen. Diane's legs are longer. Abby's are just better toned.

Don't think about her that way…

Jack wished he could stop sneaking peeks at Abby. He was glad she couldn't read his mind, because she'd probably think
he was depraved, noticing her body when they were both in here feeding the babies.

It had been a long time since his hormones had raged on ahead of his brain, no matter how many sexy female parts were paraded around in front of him.

With Abby, the entire package was alluring. The thought of those clever brown eyes glittering into his from up close seemed just as enticing as her parts.

Maybe his problem was that he hadn't had to deny himself for so long. This living arrangement was not a great idea.

He needed to get out and find a date.

“Abby, I can finish with Wyatt,” he whispered. “Go on back to bed.”

“Are you sure?” she asked.

Her arms were wrapped around her waist. Did she know her T-shirt pulled across her chest when she did that? She must, because she abruptly dropped her hands to her sides and formed them into fists. Maybe she was just as uncomfortable as he was.

A pain tore at his chest, and Jack looked down to find Wyatt's fingers full of hair and his tiny mouth grinning.

Which meant he wasn't drinking, and Jack had been too busy noticing Abby's parts to realize he was done.

Abby still wasn't leaving—hadn't he suggested that?

“You can go on back to bed, Abby,” he said more loudly as he unwrapped Wyatt's fist from his chest hair. “I can do this.”

“I asked if you were sure,” she reminded him with a smile.

She turned around and fiddled with Rosie's blankets, giving him a provocative view of her backside.

He'd never seen her with so few clothes on, but he'd always been fascinated by that bottom. Now he could see the absolute lusciousness of those legs, almost up to a place that was even more luscious. “I'm completely sure,” he said through gritted teeth. “Go back to bed.”

“If he won't go down, just tap on my door,” she said on her way out.

Oh, sure, I'll just tap on your door and join you in bed,
he thought, and groaned out loud.

She popped her head around the door. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” he grumbled. “Wyatt's fingers got tangled up in my chest hair in a tender spot.”

She flew back into the room. “Did you get the hair off his fingers?”

“Yesss! It's off,” he bellowed. “Go to bed.”

They both looked at Rosie, who nestled her cheek into the crib mattress and made a soft little sigh. Abby put a finger to her lips and tiptoed out.

Finally.

Jack resisted the urge to breathe a sigh of relief.

Instead, he whispered to Wyatt, “Women become complicated when you're my age, little man. Enjoy them now when things are simple.”

Wyatt yawned and stretched both arms in the air, and Jack spent a few minutes exploring various burping methods before he found the one that worked.

Then he followed Abby's example. He took Wyatt over to the crib and laid him down. After pulling a downy yellow blanket over the boy's body, he backed away.

Wyatt's face crunched into a frown. He drew in a gulping breath. And Jack flew back to the crib and scooped him up.

There was no way he could handle seeing Abby again. If the babies cried, she'd be back here in a flash—flaunting those flirty parts and asking how she could help. There was only so much temptation a man could take, and Jack couldn't navigate around Abby for another second.

He sank down in the rocker again, thankful for its massive size. Brian must have helped choose these chairs, because they were big enough for a long-legged man to sleep in, if necessary.

Pushing the lever to tilt the chair into a reclining position, Jack settled Wyatt against his chest and closed his eyes. He would just rest here until the baby was deeply asleep.

Then he could put him in his crib and head downstairs.

Just a few minutes. That's all it should take.

 

“J
ACK, WHAT ARE YOU DOING
up here?”

He opened his eyes to find Abby's most indignant expression furrowing her face.

Fully dressed now, she stood in front of him in her favorite hands-on-hips pose.

As uncomfortable as last night had been, it had at least been fair. Now he was the only half-naked adult in the house.

“Guess I must've dozed off,” he said, leaning forward to release the chair's lever. As he stood, he realized his arms were empty.

Horrid visions filled his head of Wyatt slipping off his lap and scooting his way to the top of the stairs. Tumbling down. Disappearing into the darkness of the countryside.

“Where's Wyatt?” he asked, noting the baby gate now blocking the doorway. “Is he all right?”

Abby pointed.

Wyatt was on the floor of the nursery, pushing around a jingling ball with one hand, and propping himself up on the other. “He's going to be crawling in no time,” Abby said.

Rosie was near her brother, batting at a plush orange giraffe.

“Why'd you sleep up here?” Abby asked again, more quietly.

He looked at her sheepishly. If he admitted that he didn't know how to put a baby down to sleep, she'd never let him try again. But if he didn't, she wouldn't teach him.

“Wyatt started bawling when I put him in his crib, and I didn't want him to wake Rosie,” he explained. “I only meant to stay till he fell asleep.”

Abby's chuckle floated through the nursery, filling the air
and meshing with the sounds of the babies' babbling play. It sounded very right.

He grinned, too, enjoying her laughter.

“I can't tell you how surprised I was to see such a cosmopolitan man sleeping with a baby on his chest,” she said. “You looked pretty comfy.”

“Sometimes we men have to stick together,” he said, thankful that she wasn't angry.

“You'll spoil that baby boy.” Her lecturing tone was contradicted by the glowing light in her eyes.

He was tempted to kiss her to see if it would ignite.

“You have to put him down and let him fuss a bit,” she said. “Or he'll forget how to go to sleep on his own.”

“Maybe next time you can show me,” Jack said, unable to look away.

“Sure.” She turned to pick up Wyatt.

And just like that, Jack was dismissed. Which was just as well; he needed a shower, a shave and coffee. A few clothes might be a good idea, too.

Heading downstairs, he hurried through his routine, deciding to approach the subject of daily schedules over breakfast. So far this week, Abby had handled the bulk of the baby-care duties. She seemed to view him as a part-time baby-sitter, but he wanted to do more. He still had a lot to learn, and she made a good teacher.

Before he left his bedroom, though, he dug his robe out of a box of unpacked clothes and hooked it over his doorknob. Next time he was needed at night, he'd go upstairs fully covered. Perhaps Abby could give him a lesson in how to put a baby to sleep, instead of how to snuff out a wildfire of sensual imagery.

Unless she came to the nursery in that T-shirt again, or some other scrap of a nightie. The only good his robe would do in that case was cover up the evidence of his desire.

Because one thing was certain—his gentlemanly behavior
would never last a year with both of them running around naked.

And if he slipped once, he might slip again. And that could start an avalanche into a giant heap of complications.

He'd managed to avoid such a thing over the course of his entire adult life. He only got as involved as necessary to gain companionship. But he couldn't do that with Abby. She wasn't the type to play around, and besides, she'd been hurt enough already.

Something about her brought out his latent protective instincts, and he'd brandish a shotgun around his own backside before he added to her pain.

So he had to get out, very soon, and play off some energy. And she had to wear more clothes at night, even if he had to buy them for her himself.

“S
LOW DOWN
, A
BBY
!
Pull in up here to the right.”

Abby started to nudge her foot on the brake, but she groaned and lifted it as soon as she saw the car dealership Jack was pointing to.

“We ventured into town to restock the refrigerator,” she said dryly. “Not your giant playboy toy box.”

“Stop here,” he insisted. “You said ten minutes ago that my car was…let's see, how did it go? ‘Insanely useless for a man with a child.' That was it.”

“It has only two seats and the trunk space is laughable,” she pointed out. Then gasped when Jack's hulking torso slammed against her side and a powerful leg crossed hers to stomp on the brake pedal.

“Jack! The twins,” she shrieked, chomping on her lip as he grabbed the steering wheel and forced it to the right.

Helplessly, she watched as her own truck hurtled into the car lot, with her in the driver's seat and Jack steering.

As soon as they were safely parked, she swiveled around to look in the back seat. Both Rosie and Wyatt seemed oblivious to any danger. Their pacifiers were waggling furiously in their mouths, and they were slumped in their car seats, staring out the window.

She whirled back around to glare at Jack, but now that they were no longer moving, she realized how very close he was. His leg was still plastered on top of hers, and his shoulder pressed against her chest.

His solid heat felt welcome against her softness, and he
didn't seem to be in a hurry to leave. He turned his head toward hers and opened his mouth, but no words came out. He just let his eyes wander over her face.

As she did with his.

That mouth was sexy, and when he held it open, it was hard not to imagine it slanting across hers. It was harder still to think about moving, but there was something—a seed of a thought somewhere deep in her brain—that she needed to nurture. There was something she needed to remember….

Oh, yeah. The plan.

Today they were taking the twins to the grocery store so he could experience the joys of cranky babies and endlessly long and boring rows of shelved food. This side trip to the car lot was definitely not going to work.

Neither would the kiss she was craving about now.

“Jack, get off,” she whispered.

He didn't seem to have heard her, because he didn't move.

“Jack!” she roared. “What are you doing?”

Well, that did it. Wyatt let out a piercing shriek, which was followed by Rosie's deafening howl.

Now the twins were frightened.

Jack scowled as he handed her the keys. Then he untangled himself and scooted over to get out on his side of the truck. By the time Abby stumbled out, he was leaning in the back to remove Wyatt from his car seat. The truck's cab blocked her complaints, so she opened Rosie's door to call across the back seat, “I asked what you were doing.”

He lifted Wyatt out and said, “Looking at cars.”

Her hands flew to her hips. “I don't have all day to mess around. We came out to get groceries, and that's all.”

“This won't take long,” he said, winking and smiling before he slammed the door between them and walked away.

By the time Abby caught up, toting Rosie, Jack was staring into the tinted windows of a sleek white four door. “Jack, we need to get back,” she repeated as she followed him around the classy vehicle.

He scrutinized the trunk lid. “I just want to look.”

“Why?”

He stopped studying the car and frowned at her. “As you put it so candidly, just awhile ago, I need a more practical car now.”

Rosie was starting to fidget. “But we don't have to drag the babies around,” she said, following him as he strode across the lot. “Just go alone sometime.”

He ignored her. He was circling a sunshine-yellow wagon and bouncing the boy to keep him from fussing. Abby followed, but stopped talking.

Car shopping wasn't a lot of fun for babies, was it? After a while, their fidgeting should turn to whining. Especially if some salesman arrived on the scene to talk a mile a minute. Most adults could hardly take such a thing, let alone a baby. Maybe she had a little spare time, Abby decided.

She caught up and made sure she had his attention before she said, “Okay, but I have a lot to do today. Plants and babies don't take days off. You have half an hour.”

“This wagon's pretty sporty, and it's as practical as hel—” He stopped and looked at Rosie, who by now was threatening to cry. “As a helmet. As practical as a helmet.”

Abby looked at the car. It was pretty sporty all right. Way, way too sporty and fun. She had to find something wrong with it.

Frowning in concentration, she peered through the side window and laughed triumphantly. “Not that practical,” she said. “The snow-white interior would show every puddle of baby drool. Come on.”

Abby led him down the row, stopping at a big, battered wagon. She rested a hand on the faded tan fender and said, “Here's a good family vehicle. There's room enough for kids, groceries and spare computers, and you wouldn't worry about spit-up spots or grocery cart dings.”

There. Maybe now he'd understand about the sacrifices involved in raising a baby.

Jack looked down his nose at the car as he stalked past. “There's no need to surrender my pride just because I need a bigger car,” he said.

He squinted across the lot and practically jogged to a sedan in a rich charcoal-gray. Wyatt's vibrating giggle at the bumpy ride grated on Abby's nerves.

When she approached with Rosie, Jack touched his index finger to the little girl's nose and said, “This is fun, isn't it? And you're not going to bawl at all.”

The traitorous Rosie kicked her legs, pointed at the car and said, “Deek.”

Jack took off his baseball cap, threw back his head and laughed. “That's right, sleek,” he said, and winked at Abby. “And it has a back seat, a big trunk and a dark interior.”

Abby leaned down to look in the window, and Jack bent down beside her to whisper in her ear. “And it's as hot as you-know-what.”

She glared at the car, looking for faults. She walked around it and stopped when she reached the price sticker. Then she laughed and tapped a fingernail against the glass. “And at this price, you would bawl if anything happened to it.”

He shook his head. “I don't know.”

She practically skipped across the row and stopped at a boxy green minivan. “The sticker on this one says it was rated safest in last year's crash tests,” she hollered. “And you'd have room for babies, groceries, computer junk…and up to four girlfriends.”

“Very funny,” he yelled back. He opened the door of the sedan and sat in the driver's seat with Wyatt on his lap.

Abby stared across the row at him in that car.

Its trim lines seemed to suit him, and the front end looked astonishingly like a woman's face. A pair of slanted headlights waited for his hands to make them glow, and the grill seemed to smile brilliantly.

The darn thing seemed to be mocking her.

She strolled over to wait while he puttered with the controls,
but when he didn't come out within a few minutes, she pulled open the passenger door and sank into the seat.

“I want to drive this,” he said immediately.

Wyatt seemed just as excited as he patted his chubby hands on the steering column.

“No more playing today, big boy,” she said as she shook her head at Jack. “We have the twins to consider.”

“So we'll take them for a ride,” Jack said. “You two want a ride, don't you?”

Rosie was too fascinated with the glove compartment latch to respond, but Wyatt bounced and smacked his hand against the horn. When the car's jazzy beep sounded, he squealed.

“See? He wants to go.”

“That's silly. We'd have to move their car seats.”

“So we'll move them,” Jack said with a shrug. “We can drive around, maybe even take this car to get groceries. Then we can swing back by here and transfer everything to the truck before we head home.”

“That's really silly,” she said.

“No, it's really fun.”

She blew her bangs away from her face. He had a way of thwarting her little lessons in boredom and self-sacrifice.

“For you it's fun. For me it's extra work and wasted time.”

He reached down to her seat and started tugging at something under her thigh. When he got his flattened baseball cap out from under her, he grinned and punched his fist inside to pop it back into shape.

Then he put it on
her
head. “Oh, but I'll let you drive first,” he said, with a wink and his best “gotcha” grin.

 

J
ACK REREAD THE NOTE
he'd left on his office desk a few days ago, wondering if he could find a local shop that would pack up a robe and send it over this afternoon. He'd had no idea that a female roommate would cause this much bother to his libido, and frankly, he was surprised.

Although he'd always been attracted to Abby, her sharp edges had held him in check. Somehow, since he'd gotten to know her better, her scrappiness seemed cuter.

He could never resist a little teasing, just to see her eyes flash. He'd had an incredibly good time this morning, convincing her to drive that car. And then he'd wallowed in sheer delight as she gave in to the excitement and sat behind the wheel.

He'd never realized that watching a fully dressed woman drive to the grocery store could be sexy. He needed to keep her fully dressed, at all times, or he might be tempted to help her get fully
un
dressed.

He picked up the private phone he'd set up in his office, and decided to try his only connection to the fashion world. His old friend Paula was a buyer for an exclusive ladies' apparel store in Kansas City—she should know of something appropriate. If she would speak to him.

As luck would have it, she answered on the first ring. And he was relieved by her diplomatic greeting. This was the Paula he recognized. Without hesitation, he asked if her store carried women's robes.

“Of course,” she said. “Are you in the market for a ladies' robe?”

“Yes, my mother's birthday is coming up,” he said through clenched teeth. The statement was misleading, but it wasn't exactly a lie. His mother's birthday was next month. Only the robe wasn't for her.

“We have just the thing,” Paula said more warmly. “Your mother is remarried, with a passel of kids to worry about, right?”

“Right,” he said, surprised that she remembered that much. He and Paula hadn't talked about families.

“We have a line of flattering nightwear for the woman who wants to put the romance back into her marriage,” she began, sounding like a lingerie copywriter. “There's a silk robe with
a lacy peekaboo skirt that's been selling well. We have it in smoke, orchid and midnight.”

Visions of Abby's thighs displayed all the way up to her chin danced through Jack's brain. “No. Ab— I mean
Mom
wouldn't like that at all,” he said. “She likes to be covered at night, in case the kids are up and about.”

Remembering the firm curves underneath that old T-shirt, he wondered at the possibility of finding a thick bunting robe in sludge-green.

Perhaps decorated with shackles. Or wedding rings.

“Doesn't she live somewhere that stays hot year-round?” Paula asked. “California or somewhere out West?”

“Arizona.”

“It's still August, darling. No one in Arizona would want to be covered up.”

Paula wasn't as helpful as he had hoped. He ran a hand through his hair. “Mom does,” he insisted. “Do you have anything?”

“Our winter arrivals are due in late this week. I suppose I could pull something from our holiday stock.”

“Perfect. I want something at least down to her knees, and thick. Mom's always cold.”

“What size does she wear?”

Holding his hand out in front of him, he imagined Abby standing there. When he'd kissed her, he'd only had to lean down a few inches. “She's about up to my nose, I guess. And built nice, for a mom. Slim, but not skinny.”

“We'll say she's about average in height and build. Should I wrap it up pretty and send it straight to her?”

“No,” Jack said, thinking fast. He needed that robe here as soon as possible. “I want to put a note in the package. Could it be personally delivered?”

“Personally delivered?” Paula asked. “You mean, by me? Darling, you've missed me, haven't you? I'd love to visit!”

Jack slid down into his chair, thinking.

He hadn't missed Paula all that much, but since they'd dated
off and on for three years, he knew why she would make that assumption.

And Abby had mentioned him inviting a lady friend, now and again, hadn't she? Maybe a visit from Paula would take his mind off Abby's parts, solving several problems at once.

“Perfect,” he said. “Topeka isn't as big as Kansas City, but I think we could find a decent restaurant. I'll take you out to dinner. How soon can you make it?”

“You mean, this week?”

“Absolutely.”

“Darling, you must be so anxious to see me. I'll come Friday after work, and I'll bring your mother's gift.”

 

“I
NEED TO TALK TO YOU
about our nights.”

Abby looked up from the double stroller, where she'd just buckled in both of the babies, and squinted toward the porch at Jack. “So talk, but make it quick,” she said. “Remember I lost two hours this morning to your little whim.”

He stepped off the porch and grabbed hold of the stroller's handle. “Where are you headed?” he asked. “I can talk on the way.”

She scowled, wondering why he wasn't tapping away at his computer keyboard. “I need to take pond samples,” she said.

“We have a pond?”