The - Cowboy’s - Secret - Twins (2 page)

As she got out of the car she realized it had grown darker, as if night hadn’t just stealthily approached but had rather slammed down without warning.

She opened the door to the backseat and first unbuckled Joey and pulled him up on her hip, then went to the other door and did the same with James. In the past four months she’d become quite adept at not only carrying both boys, but also her purse and a diaper bag all at the same time.

The cold air chased her to the front door, where she managed to use her toe to knock. Her heart hammered with excitement as she waited for MysteryMom to answer. When the door opened her excitement transformed to stunned surprise.

He filled the doorway with his broad shoulders and lean hips, and his blue eyes widened with the same shock that she felt. His gaze swept over the two babies in her arms and his face paled.

James.

For a moment her mind refused to accept what she saw. “Henry? Who’s here?” a feminine voice called from somewhere in the house. Two thoughts flew into Melissa’s head. Apparently his name wasn’t James and he must be married. Oh, God, this was all a mistake. A terrible mistake.

Before she could take a step backward, before she could even move a muscle, a ping sounded next to her and the wood of the doorjamb splintered apart.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Another ping resounded and James or Henry or whatever his name was leaned forward, grabbed her and pulled her inside the house. He slammed the door behind them.

“Call the sheriff,” he yelled. “Somebody is shooting at the house.” He opened a drawer in the ornate sideboard in the entry, pulled out a gun, then without a backward glance at her, disappeared out the front door. Melissa stood in the center of the entry, her heart banging frantically. Mistake. This was all some sort of horrible mistake.

What kind of a man was her babies’ father that somebody shot at the house the minute he’d opened his door? Was he a drug dealer? A criminal of some kind?

As Joey and James began to cry, Melissa fought back tears of her own. Henry Randolf clung to the shadows of the house as he tried to discern exactly where the shooter might be. He thought the attack had come from the stand of trees directly in front of the house.

As he moved forward he tried not to think about the woman who had appeared on his doorstep. Melissa, that was her name. She’d crossed his thoughts often over the past year, but he couldn’t think about her now or the two babies she held in her arms. He couldn’t afford to get distracted while somebody with a gun was on his property.

One problem at a time, he told himself. The shooter first, then he’d have to figure out what to do about his unexpected visitor.

He clenched his gun tightly as he worked his way to the stand of trees, listening for a sound, seeking a shadow that would indicate where the attacker might be. As he thought of how close those bullets had come to Melissa and those babies, a slow seething rage built up inside him. This wasn’t the first time he’d been shot at in the past week. Three days ago he’d been riding his horse across the pasture and somebody had taken a potshot at him. His mount had reared and taken off for the stables as Henry had pulled his gun to defend himself from the unknown. He was still outside checking the area when the sheriff’s car pulled up. Sheriff Jimmy Harrick lumbered out of his patrol car like a sleepy bear exiting a favorite cave. He pulled his collar up against the cold night air as Henry approached him.

“I’ve checked the area. There’s nobody around now. The shots came from that stand of trees over there but it’s too dark to see if there’s any shell casings or evidence.”

He pointed toward the house. “Let’s go inside and talk.” Henry didn’t wait for a reply but headed for the door. He hadn’t felt the cold when he’d first burst outside, but now the damp December air seeped into his bones.

“Got company?” Jimmy asked as they passed the older model car in the driveway.

“Yeah, an old friend.” Henry’s stomach kicked with nerves as he thought of the woman who had stood on his doorstep carrying twins who looked remarkably like he had when he’d been a baby.

Damn, what mess had he gotten himself into? He had a feeling his life was about to get extremely complicated.

As he and the sheriff walked into the living room he saw Melissa seated next to his mother on the sofa, each of them with a baby in their arms. Melissa’s blue eyes were wide with fear. He couldn’t blame her. There was nothing like a welcoming committee of bullets to put that expression in a woman’s eyes.

Henry tore his gaze from Melissa and focused on the sheriff.

“Something’s got to be done, Jimmy. This is the second time somebody has taken potshots at me in the past week.”

Jimmy shoved his meaty hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I’m not sure what to do about it, Henry. There’s no question that you’ve made some enemies with your decision to run for mayor.”

“And so it’s okay for somebody to try to kill me? Because they don’t like my politics?” Henry was acutely aware of Melissa listening to every word, watching him with those amazing eyes of hers.

Jimmy pulled his hands out of his pockets. “Now, you know that’s not what I’m saying,” he protested. “I’m going back out there with my flashlight and I’ll take a look around, then I’ll head back to town and start asking questions. I’ll let you know if I find anything. If I don’t then I’ll give you a call sometime tomorrow.”

“Fine,” Henry said curtly. He knew nothing more could be done tonight and in any case he was having a difficult time thinking about anything but the woman who sat next to his mother.

He walked Jimmy to the door, then closed and locked it and drew a deep breath to steady himself. How had she found him? They’d only exchanged first names on that crazy night they’d shared a little over a year ago and he hadn’t even given her his real first name. And then there were those babies. Henry had decided he was never going to marry and he’d certainly never planned to be a father, but there was little question in his mind about the paternity of those twins. Now he had to figure out what he was going to do about it.

He returned to the living room, where the two women on the sofa didn’t appear to have moved, although Melissa and the two little boys no longer wore their coats.

His mother had that look on her face she used to get when he was a kid and had done something he knew he shouldn’t do. He definitely had some explaining to do.

She stood and walked over to him and thrust the baby she held into his arms. “I’m retiring to my room. It appears you and Melissa have a lot to talk about.”

The little boy smelled of baby powder and gazed up at him with curious blue eyes. As Henry stared down at him the little boy’s lips curved up in a sweet smile.

“That’s Joey,” Melissa said. “And I have James.” She said the name with forced emphasis and he remembered that the night they’d been together he’d told her his name was James.

That night he hadn’t wanted to be the wealthy Henry James Randolf III. He’d just wanted to be an ordinary cowboy named James. “My name is Henry. Henry James Randolf,” he said.

As he looked at her several things struck him. She was still as pretty as he’d remembered her with her long blond hair and those big blue eyes, but she seemed tired and stressed.

Her cheeks grew pink beneath his scrutiny. “I don’t quite know what to say. I didn’t expect you.”

He frowned and tightened his grip on Joey, who wiggled like a little worm. “What do you mean, you didn’t expect me? You came here. You knocked on my door. Who else would you be expecting?” He sat in a chair across from the sofa as Joey leaned his head against his chest. To Henry’s surprise his heart knocked hard.

“I thought I was coming to spend the holiday with a woman I met last year on the computer.” Once again her cheeks warmed with color. “We met in a chat room for single pregnant women and she’s been a wonderful source of support through my pregnancy and single parenting. She goes by the name of MysteryMom. She gave me this address, emailed me directions and told me to come here.”

He eyed her suspiciously. The story certainly didn’t have any ring of truth to it. “And how did she find me?”

Melissa raised a hand that trembled slightly to tuck a strand of shiny hair behind her ear. “I don’t know. When we first got close I told her about the blizzard in Rockport and you coming to my rescue. All I knew about you was that your name was James and that you drove a black pickup with a license plate number that started with tin.”

TIN-MAN, that’s what his plate read. An old girlfriend who had proclaimed that he had no heart had dared him to get the personalized plate, and he never backed down from a dare.

“When I first realized I was pregnant,” she continued, “I went back to Rockport and asked around about you, but nobody had any clue who you might be. Somebody tried to kill you.”

He blinked at the unexpected change of topic. “I think it was a warning, not a real attempt on my life. Our current mayor was diagnosed with cancer and has decided to resign. The city council has called an emergency election to be held in two months. I decided to run for the position and somebody apparently doesn’t like my politics.”

James began to fuss, waving his fists in the air and kicking his legs.

“They’re hungry,” Melissa said. “If you could just show me to the kitchen, I’ll fix them bottles, then we’ll be on our way.”

“On your way? You can’t leave now,” he protested. “It’s dark and getting later by the minute and I don’t know if the person who fired that gun earlier is really gone from the area.” He stood with Joey in his arms.

“You’ll stay here tonight and we can discuss everything further in the morning.”

She stood and gazed at him with somber eyes. “You haven’t even questioned if they’re yours or not.”

For the first time since he’d opened his door to her, he offered her a smile. “They look just like me. They even have my cleft chin. And I know we used no protection that night.”

“I’m not here to cause you any trouble,” she replied.

Henry nodded, although he wasn’t so sure about that. “Let’s go into the kitchen and get those bottles ready,” he said.

Time would tell if she had really been led to his doorstep by some mystery cyber friend or if she was just another woman who had recognized who he was on the night of the blizzard and had found a way to cash in on the Randolf fortune.

Chapter 2

M elissa snuggled down in the bed in a guest room fit for a princess. The twins were sound asleep in an old playpen that Henry had found in the attic. It had been dusted off and the padding covered with a crisp, clean sheet. The boys were clad in their pajamas and sleeping beneath a cashmere throw that was as soft as a cloud.

She’d called Caitlin just to let her friend know that everything was all right and that it hadn’t been MysteryMom’s home she’d come to, but rather the man who was the father of her boys. She’d promised to let Caitlin know everything that happened when she returned home in the morning.

She was exhausted now, but sleep refused to come. The night had been filled with far too many surprises. The first had certainly been the sight of Henry as he’d opened the door. The second had been the bullets that had come precariously close to both her and her babies.

Even after the trauma of the shooting had passed she hadn’t been able to get a read on Henry. He’d said little as he’d helped her bottle-feed the boys. She knew he had to be as stunned to see her as she’d been to see him.

They hadn’t spoken much, just attended to the boys’ needs, then he’d shown her to her room for the night with the promise that they’d talk further in the morning.

She didn’t know what would happen. She had no idea what to expect from him, if he intended to be part of the boys’ lives or not. She’d resigned herself at the time of their birth to the fact that Joey and James wouldn’t know their real father. At least now she wouldn’t have to tell them the humiliating story of how she’d gotten pregnant by a stranger in a vacant farmhouse during the middle of a snowstorm. MysteryMom must have somehow traced him with the partial license plate letters Melissa had mentioned. She obviously had resources Melissa didn’t have. If MysteryMom had hoped for some kind of happy ending for Melissa, she was functioning in the world of make-believe. Despite the intimate night they’d shared, Melissa and Henry didn’t know each other at all. He hadn’t even given her his real name that night. Certainly he was in a social position to date all kinds of sophisticated, successful women. And the last thing Melissa was looking for was a man in her life.

Tom’s betrayal still burned bright in her heart and if that wasn’t enough, she had two little boys to raise. She didn’t want a man. She didn’t want anything from Henry, except for him to be a father for her boys. She’d been hoping to spend Christmas someplace where the spirit of the holiday was everywhere. There was no sign of Christmas in the Randolf home and in any case she didn’t belong here.

First thing in the morning she’d be on her way back home to her little apartment and maybe on the way home she’d stop at a discount store and buy one of those little metal trees in celebration of the twins’ first Christmas.

She finally fell asleep and dreamed of that night with Henry in front of the fire he’d built to warm them through the snowy night. The heat of the flames had been nothing compared to the fire in his kisses, the warmth of his hands on her body.

When she woke up bright sunshine drifted through her bedroom window, not the faint light of dawn she was used to, but full sunlight that let her know it was late.

The boys!

She shot up and looked at the playpen. It was empty. She jumped out of bed and yanked on her robe. Henry had gotten her suitcase from the trunk of her car the night before despite her protests that the gunman might still be out there lying in wait for him. She’d held her breath until he was back in the house safe and sound.

Now her breath caught once again in her throat as she raced out of the bedroom and down the grand staircase to the lower level of the house. She heard voices coming from the formal dining room and headed there, her heart beating frantically as all kinds of irrational fears whirled through her head. She flew into the room and stopped short. The boys were in their car seats on the polished mahogany wood of the huge table. Henry’s mother, Mary, stood in front of them, shaking a rattle at first one, then at the other as they bubbled with laughter.