His-And-Hers Twins (15 page)

“I'll bring them camping here sometime.”

“They would love Rock City and Ruby Falls, too.”

“Yeah, that sounds like fun.”

Zeke threaded his fingers through hers and Paige snuggled against him, the evening temperature cooling so quickly that goose bumps shimmied up her arms. Zeke wrapped his arms around her, his embrace protective and warm, his masculine scent mingling with the outdoors, arousing her senses. She turned in his arms, silently asking for his touch.

His breath fanned her cheek, his eyes dark slits in the moonlight, and Paige shivered with arousal at the raw need she saw shining in the depths of his eyes. Then he lowered his mouth and brushed his lips across hers, tenderly, gently, so softly she arched forward, seeking more.

His hand cupped her face, angled her head so he could cover her mouth with his. He devoured her with his lips, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and hungrily tasting her. Paige clutched his arms, wedging one leg in between his thighs as she snuggled deeper into his embrace, and he cupped her bottom and dragged her against his heat, groaning. She stroked his thigh with her hand, felt the muscles ripple in his back, then arched her aching breasts forward, surrendering, begging for more.

Zeke suddenly pulled away and gazed into her eyes, his heated, passionate look making her feel heady and
starved for closeness. “Come on.” Zeke tugged her to a standing position. “The bugs will eat us alive us if we don't leave now. Let's go to my house.”

They rode back down the mountain, listening to a soft jazz station as they wound around the curves, the anticipation and promise of passion lingering between them like the promise of food to a starving man. Zeke stroked her hand, pressed it to his thigh where he covered it with his own, brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them, seduced her with the hint of lust in his eyes. Paige relented to the mood, the purr of the music and the rich taste of the wine mellowing her resistance. Zeke elicited a hunger in her that became an almost desperate need, a want she'd never felt in her life.

Maybe she was simply tired of fighting her attraction to Zeke.

“Come in for coffee or another glass of wine,” Zeke suggested when they arrived at his house.

Paige simply nodded, knowing she was agreeing to more than coffee or wine, knowing she was about to surrender her body, her heart, her soul. And not caring about the consequences.

When they entered his house, he took her in his arms, then he lowered his mouth and smothered her with a kiss that forced all reasonable thoughts from her mind. His hands slid beneath her shirt and he slowly inched her T-shirt over her head and the pure carnal lust in his eyes gave her a rush of sensations so heady she reached for his shirt with frantic fingers. His hands cupped her breasts, hers hastily unbuttoned his shirt and she slid her hands across the hard planes of his muscular chest. He brushed his lips over her mouth, then trailed kisses down her neck and lower until he reached the mounds of her breasts. Dipping his head lower, he teased her nipples to
hard peaks through her bra. Paige groaned and clung to his arms, her head lolling back as sweet agony tightened her stomach.

Some distant sound vaguely broke into her consciousness, but she ignored it and let passion sweep her into its trance as Zeke stroked her back and unfastened her bra, letting her breasts spill into his hands. Her body arched toward him, the ache so painful she almost cried out with the intensity.

The sound came again, a shrill sound that rattled her nerves and penetrated the haze of desire. She felt Zeke still in her arms, his heart beating furiously.

“It's my phone,” he said, his voice husky with passion.

“You have to get it?”

He leaned his forehead against hers and nodded. “It could be the clinic. Or the girls.”

She nodded, her labored breathing echoing through the small foyer.

“Don't move, Paige.” He kissed the tip of her nose, and hugged her to him in a tender gesture that sent a shudder through her.

Then he reached for the phone and Paige pressed her hand to her mouth, trying to steady her breathing and hide her disappointment when she heard him say his ex-wife's name.

Déjà vu struck Paige, the room spinning around her with a dizzying sickness. She righted her clothing, feeling naked and exposed in more ways than one. A few months ago she'd stood in this same room, this same house, and listened to Eric tell her he was going back to his ex-wife.

She couldn't go through that heartbreak again.

“You will be here for their birthday,” Zeke said in a heated voice. “You have to come, Renee. You're their mother, the girls need you.”

Paige nodded, backing toward the door. Zeke was right, they needed their mother, and obviously from the pain in Zeke's voice, he needed her, too. He glanced up, his dark eyes troubled, his shoulders slumped, and her heart squeezed, so many emotions bombarding her that she couldn't speak.

“Okay, I'll tell the girls you'll see them on their birthday.” He hung up the phone, then ran his hand through his hair, tousling the dark strands as he stood, warring with his own emotions. She heard his breathing rattle across the distance and she hugged her arms around her middle when he stalked toward her.

“I'm sorry, Paige,” he said in a thick voice, frowning as he stared at her shirt. “That was—”

“Your wife,” Paige supplied.

“My ex-wife,” he said pointedly, his dark gaze capturing hers.

“I…I'd better go, Zeke.” She backed toward the door, but the turmoil in his expression stopped her.

“Why? I thought we were—”

“No.” Paige cut him off. “We got carried away, but it would have been a mistake.”

His expression hardened, his eyes glittering with anger. “Why do you say that?”

“Because we want different things, Zeke.”

“We both wanted to make love,” he said, his voice husky. “You can't deny that.”

Paige shook her head, her chest tight. “No, I can't deny it, but having sex would only complicate things.” She took a deep breath, finally voicing her true worries. “I can't be a fill-in for Renee, Zeke.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “That's not what you are, Paige.”

“Isn't it? The girls have been advertising for a mother, and you've obviously been dating, trying to find someone to fill your wife's shoes. Besides, Renee may come back to stay.” She paced across the foyer, watching the guilt flash into his eyes. “You can't deny
that,
can you?”

Zeke fisted his hands by his sides, and gave her a long assessing look. “I hope she will, for the girls' sakes. But I want to be with you, Paige.”

Paige shook her head again, the memory of the tormented way he'd looked when he'd talked to his ex-wife only minutes earlier needling her. “You want me because the girls like me, because you think they need a mother right now and I'm close by. I'm a convenient substitute.”

“That's ridiculous,” Zeke scoffed, his cheeks growing red with anger. “My wanting you has
nothing
to do with
the girls. I wanted you the first time I saw you on my doorstep. And I've wanted you every minute since.”

“I'm not saying there isn't some sort of chemistry between us—”

“At least you're not denying that!”

“But the first time you saw me the girls had posted that flier. Since they latched on to me, you thought I'd make a good candidate.”

“Well, it's obvious I was wrong, wasn't I? You're just like Renee—your career is more important to you than me or the girls.” His dark eyes raked over her, disappointment lacing his voice. “I guess you're right, our making love would have been a mistake, Paige. I'm not a very good judge of women, am I?”

Paige froze, his words carving a painful hole in her chest. Her legs trembling, she turned and opened the door and fled to her house, tears streaking her cheeks.

 

O
VER THE PAST
two weeks, Paige's accusations had haunted Zeke day and night. Exhausted, he slumped onto the sofa, hoping he'd be able to grab a nap before dinner. And wondering what he could have said to have made Paige change her mind. He wished for the life of him he hadn't lost his temper, that he'd taken her in his arms and proved to her that she'd been wrong about his motivations for wanting her. But he'd been too stunned, first from Renee's insensitivity to her own children, then to Paige's false assumptions about him. Couldn't the woman tell real passion when she saw it? Did she think he'd been faking his arousal? Damn, he'd almost been shaking with need every time he was around her.

Deep down in his soul, he knew Paige wasn't like Renee. She honestly cared for the girls; he could tell in the tender, loving way she treated and respected them. But
she wanted her career, too, didn't want the responsibility—or was she afraid of it?

Heck, he was being old-fashioned. No, archaic. Perhaps, he needed to rethink his views on working mothers.

The girls were happy at day care, and if Paige worked nearby, she would still be with him and the girls in the evening. Maybe he could handle having a working wife if she loved the girls and him, too. But how did Paige feel about him?

His beeper sounded and he checked the number. The clinic. An emergency. He called in the number and told the hysterical woman on the phone he'd meet her at his clinic. Her German shepherd had been hit by a car.

“Summer, August,” he yelled from the bottom of the steps. “I have to go back to the clinic.” The girls barreled down the steps.

“Can we go to Paige's?”

He shook his head, knowing his sporadic on-off friendship with Paige confused them. “I'll call Grandma.”

He phoned, but his mother was out for the evening and with the vandals still at large, he didn't feel comfortable using a teen baby-sitter. He'd have to ask Paige to help him, and hope she didn't shut the door in his face when he turned up, asking for a baby-sitter. And he prayed she didn't see his request as a confirmation of her accusations.

 

P
AIGE FINISHED
tacking the hem on the halter dress and smiled, pleased with the way the design had turned out. For her final project, she'd designed a series of outfits for the traveling woman, keeping in mind the economy of packing and the various social occasions and business functions a woman would need. For ease of coordinating accessories, she'd chosen a black and white color scheme
which could be elegant enough for after dinner as well as suitable for work. Classy and sophisticated. The black crepe halter dress had a softly flared side slit on the skirt and would make a perfect outfit for dinner. A white fitted sheath dress with a black jacket worked for the office. Removing the jacket would make the transition into an evening outfit as well. A broomstick skirt made in georgette and black jeans lent to more casual attire, both ensembles being paired with a white poet's blouse of cotton poplin. Black pumps and simple silver bangle bracelets and earrings completed the collection.

She rubbed her eyes and stretched, her vision blurring from working with the tiny stitches. Exhausted, she left the outfits spread across the table and headed to the kitchen to clean up the dirty dishes. Beverly and Amelia had eaten spaghetti with her earlier, and they'd gotten so caught up looking at the wedding dress designs, she'd left the dishes for later.

She yawned, deciding she had to forget Zeke or she'd never sleep again. The doorbell rang and Paige hurried to answer it. When she opened the door, she was surprised to see the man who haunted her dreams standing on the porch.

“Paige!” both girls shrieked and ran into her arms. She hugged them both, eyeing Zeke over their small heads. He was watching her, a guarded expression on his face, his dark eyes blazing heat up and down her body with his scorching perusal. She shivered slightly, wondering if he could possibly have read her mind earlier and come running to her house to pronounce his love.

“I hate to bother you, but I have an emergency,” he said, his voice low and throaty.

“Grammy can't come over,” Summer said.

“And we wants to stay with you, Paige.”

“Can we?” Summer pleaded.

Disappointment suddenly ballooned in Paige's stomach, but she met Zeke's steady gaze, determined not to reveal her emotions. And trying not to panic that she'd have full responsibility for his children. “Sure, girls. You can stay here,” she heard herself say.

“I really hate to ask, Paige, but with the vandals still on the loose—”

“It's okay, Zeke. I don't mind baby-sitting,” Paige said pointedly.

His jaw tightened, and he opened his mouth to argue, but his beeper sounded again.

“Better go, Daddy,” Summer said.

“Don't let that doggie die,” August added.

Zeke hugged both girls for reassurance. “I'll do my best,” he said in a gruff voice.

“I don't know what time it will be,” he said, his gaze locking with hers. “I may have to do surgery.”

“Don't worry about the time.” Paige searched his face for some sign he still wanted her. “I'll put them to bed in the guest room if you're not back in a while.”

He nodded, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing the beeper at his belt. “Thanks, Paige. I really appreciate this.”

She nodded and forced a smile, her chin up, then closed the door. Her heart broke when he drove away. She'd been right. She was just a baby-sitter. Zeke had probably realized he didn't have to date her or bed her to ask her to baby-sit. All he had to do was to walk next door.

“What 'ya doing?” Summer and Paige both asked when they saw her sewing supplies spread on the table.

“Working on my project.”

The girls squealed when they noticed the bags of ma
terial and ribbons and rickrack. Summer examined several decorative buttons and August draped a long red piece of silk around her head.

“Hey, look, I'm Little Red Riding Hood.”

Seeing their excitement, she realized they weren't ready for bed, so Paige dragged out a box of scraps to entertain them. “Would you girls like to learn how to sew? We could make doll blankets for Molly and Sue.”

“Yeah!” both girls exclaimed.

Summer and August searched through the scraps. “I like this purple 'terial,” Summer said.

“And I want the blue striped.”

“Great. Now, we'll turn the edges down and sew them to make a blanket.” She pinned the folds and threaded a needle, then taught them how to make a simple hem stitch.

“This is hard,” Summer said. She reached for the big scissors to snip a loose thread but Paige grabbed them first and quickly warned the girls about using her sharp scissors.

“You're getting the hang of it, Summer,” Paige said in an encouraging voice. “Your stitches are getting straighter every time.

“Look at mine,” August said.

“Mad Molly will love it,” Paige exclaimed. Both girls beamed proudly, tugging at her heart.

“Can we make clothes next time?” August asked.

“Sure. We can make anything you want.”

When the girls finally finished, Paige praised them both. The stitches were crooked and big, but it didn't matter. They had put a lot of effort into the work.

“Come on, let's get ready for bed, then we'll have a story.”

The three trudged into the kitchen for water first and Paige gasped. “Henrietta, stop!”

“Oh, no!” Summer and August screamed.

Henrietta had knocked the spaghetti bowl off the table and was digging in with her paws. “Catch her!” August screamed.

But Henrietta took off running, streaking the floor with her spaghetti-red paws.

“Not there!” Paige yelled.

“Henrietta!” August shouted. “Wait!”

“Come back here!” Summer screamed.

It was too late. Henrietta ran into the dining room and jumped up on the table, skittered across it, then sprawled on top of Paige's white dress, smearing her red spaghetti-stained paws all across her final project.

Paige froze in absolute horror. Henrietta had completely ruined her project.

Summer and August reached for Henrietta, but Henrietta scurried across the pieces on the table, smashing gooey spaghetti into the fine fabric, then leapt off the table and raced through the house, marring the floor with her messy footprints. They almost caught her in the hallway, but she barreled back to the kitchen and ran outside through the pet door. Paige checked to make sure Henrietta had run into the backyard instead of the street, then returned to the house to find the twins washing the black-and-white dress in the sink. Paige groaned silently. Wetting the dry-clean only fabric had simply smeared the red sauce into bigger splotches. Black bled onto the white sections, turning the material into a murky gray.

Summer and August stared at her wide-eyed as she surveyed the damage. “Oh, my gosh!” August's chin quivered.

“Can you fix it?” Summer sloshed soapy water everywhere as she attempted to catch a tear from her cheek.

Paige hugged them both, murmuring comforting words, but she felt like crying herself. All those long hours of tedious work and her final project had been destroyed within minutes. Not only was the black crepe and white poplin splattered and streaked with red spaghetti, but Henrietta's claws had picked the material beyond repair.

“Paige?”

“Sorry,” Summer whimpered, bursting into tears.

Paige glanced at the girls' sorrowful expressions and her heart ached. Her mother would have had a fit if she'd seen the messy floor. Once upon a time, Paige would have also cringed, too. But the project and her house didn't matter nearly as much as the little girls. She knelt and folded them into her embrace.

“I'm sorry,” August whispered.

“We didn't mean to be so much trouble,” Summer cried.

“Don't leabe us like Mommy did.” The girls' sobs tore at her heart and Paige stroked them and crooned comforting words. “Mommy hated anmuls, 'specially Henrietta.”

“Shh, it's okay. It wasn't your fault, sweetheart, it was an accident.” She brushed back their hand. “And I don't hate Henrietta. She's just being a dog.”