Daring to Trust the Boss (Harlequin Romance) (17 page)

“Is your, uh, mommy here?”

“Mama goned.”

The Australian accent was noticeable. It looked like they were going to close the door.

“Aunt!” he remembered. “Is your aunt Patricia here?”

“Auntie’s name Trixie.”

He was starting to feel exasperated, but a sound from in the apartment, muted, but very much like a whimper, made the hair on the back of his neck stand up higher.

“Get your aunt for me,” he said, trying for a note of both sternness, to instill obedience, and friendliness to try and overcome whatever they had heard about the danger of strangers.

Two sets of identical liquid dark eyes exchanged a look.

“She’s dead,” one offered.

“Unlock the door. Right now.” He fumbled for his cell phone, always in his shirt pocket, and realized he wasn’t even in a shirt. He was standing in the hallway in a pair of plaid pajama bottoms, and his best shoes and nothing else.

Not exactly the person children would or should unlock the door for.

“Please?” He tried for a sweet note. It came as unnaturally to him as if he was speaking through the sickening fluff of candy floss. He tried to smile in a friendly fashion.

The children were fooled—it made him uncomfortably aware of how totally vulnerable children were—and one of them ventured a tiny smile in return while the other stood on tiptoes and tried to reach the chain that barred the door.

“Can’t reach.” And that was that. The little minx looked as if, now that she had made somewhat of an effort, she was going to shut the door.

“Get out of the way,” he ordered. “Stand way back from the door.”

The pitter-patter of running feet told him he had, somewhat surprisingly, been obeyed. Either that, or they had totally lost interest in him and run off to play. He threw his shoulder into the door, and the flimsy chain snapped with barely a protest, and the door crashed open and hit the coat closet door behind it with an explosive bang. Daniel was propelled into the darkness of the apartment.

A huge cat, long haired and gray, shot out of the closet, yowling with indignation. White fluff, an inch deep on the floors, floated in the air behind the cat as it skittered around a corner and disappeared into one of the bedrooms.

Daniel could only hope one of the neighbors had heard the ruckus and would have the good sense to call for help.

“Patricia?” he called. “Patricia Marsh? It’s Daniel Riverton, your neighbor from downstairs.”

He heard that little whimper again. The layout of the apartment was identical to Kevin’s, so he got his bearings, moved swiftly past the kitchen and down the short hallway. He burst into the living room. His every step seemed to stir clouds of
something
off the floor.

The children, obviously identical twins, sat in complete darkness on a brightly patterned sofa by the window, peering at something they held between them.

“Don’t be frightened,” he said. One of them glanced up at him with a look that appeared defiant, not the least frightened.

He wasn’t sure about kids’ ages, since children were the segment of the population that, thankfully, he had the least to do with. He thought maybe these little girls were four or five.

They were dressed in identical white nighties, but that was where any perception of innocence ended. Their hair was black, wildly curly, long and tangled. They looked like children who had been raised by wolves.

As if to underscore that perception, one lifted up her bright red hand, berry-stained like her face, and licked it.

“Where’s your aunt?”

Despite the fact the layout of the apartment was identical to Kevin’s, Daniel found himself feeling disoriented by the mess. It seemed as if it had snowed inside. That white fluff was everywhere. It covered the floor, and floated in little clumps. A closer glance showed him dozens of envelopes were scattered, like so much debris, among the disarray.

Just off the living room, in the dining room alcove, in the middle of that sea of mail and white fluff, was an overturned dining chair.

With a mummy attached to it. Again, the scene was so surreal, he felt disoriented, his mind grappling with what was going on.

Then mummy whimpered.

Daniel raced over and dropped to his knees. All that was visible through one tiny slat in layers and layers of white—toilet tissue?—were the most incredible eyes he had ever seen, as midnight blue as the heart of a pansy, fringed with dark lashes that had teardrops that sparkled like diamonds clinging to them.

He said a word out loud that he was pretty sure you weren’t supposed to say in front of children.

Even ones who looked like little ruffians straight off the set of
Oliver Twist
.

Copyright © 2014 by Cara Colter

ISBN-13: 9781460325711

DARING TO TRUST THE BOSS

Copyright © 2014 by Linda Susan Meier

All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

www.Harlequin.com