LITMIR.BIZ

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there were three women he dated regularly, none seemed as if they would want to take on the chore.

      He knew for certain that Paula, the woman he’d known the longest, would revolt at being asked to help with an infant.

      She might close her eyes to his playboy ways, but she wouldn’t tolerate a child. She often said that having children was what other women did when they didn’t have the imagination to create an exciting life for themselves.

      There was something else that was bothering him, too, and it was the most important aspect of his dilemma. The twins were all that was left of the family Brian had loved. Jack shouldn’t tear them apart, especially not after they’d just lost their parents. They deserved to grow up knowing one another. At the very least, they deserved to spend time together as siblings. He shouldn’t take that away from them.

      But he couldn’t just give the boy up, either. That would be letting himself down, as well as Brian.

      Jack needed to talk to Abby.

      ONE OF THE BABIES was crying.

      Abby woke up, stumbled off the couch and headed for the bedroom to see which one needed her. By the time she’d crossed the threshold, she remembered. Jack had taken Wyatt.

      It had required all the self-control she could muster to help that man through his troubles yesterday, when all she’d wanted was to go over there and bring Wyatt home.

      Lifting Rosie off the mattress, she hummed softly. The baby began to quiet immediately, but Abby knew she was probably hungry. It was six o’clock, about the time the babies usually woke up.

      Trudging into the kitchen to pull a bottle from the refrigerator, Abby warmed it, then wandered back to her rocker with both baby and bottle. She settled in for a while, watching Rosie drink.

      Yesterday’s events kept replaying in her head like a nightmare. Jack had really taken Wyatt. And then he had called her all day long, reminding her constantly that his knowledge of babies could fit on the wing of an aphid.

      She wondered how Wyatt had slept last night, or whether he had slept at all. A brutal stab of longing pierced through her heart, starting her tears falling again.

      She let them flow, reassuring Rosie that crying was healthy and healing. The sweet girl looked at Abby as if she understood the pain, seeming oddly wise—until she reached up with chubby fingers and clenched Abby’s nose.

      Abby’s responding chuckle caused Rosie to smile back and kick her feet in happiness. And for all her innocence, she provided a wealth of comfort.

      After Rosie had been fed, burped, bathed and dressed, Abby let her play on the floor with a bowl of plastic fish while she gathered some things in a diaper bag.

      Yesterday had proved that she couldn’t wait for serendipity to solve her problems. Jack had no business trying to fit a sweet little boy into his self-absorbed lifestyle. Paige wouldn’t have wanted that, no matter what the will said, and now it was up to Abby to make sure it didn’t happen. Somehow.

      She wanted nothing more than to raise both twins together, on the farm in the country. After all, that was a modified version of her lifelong dream.

      Ever since she was a young girl, a country life was what she had envisioned for herself. She’d wanted to marry some dark-haired, faceless man, raise a yardful of kids and animals, and grow flowers.

      Many of the childhood games of “let’s pretend” she had played with her sister had revolved around that theme.

      After her divorce, Abby realized her fairy tale would never include the dark-haired man. She’d made a foolish choice once, and she didn’t trust herself to try again. But she’d never forgotten the rest of the fantasy.

      Her sister had been more successful in starting down all the right paths, but she was gone now. It was only fitting that Abby should carry on pursuing their shared hopes.

      If only she could convince Jack to give up Wyatt.

      A few minutes later, she drove down the long dirt lane to the eighty-year-old-house she’d loved most of her life. Jack’s silver two-seater sports car was parked haphazardly in the drive, with his familiar blue cap resting on its hood. He’d beaten her here.

      She parked behind him and hopped out to pull Rosie from the back seat. A whistle sounded, and she whirled around to find Jack watching from beside a massive white column of the wraparound wooden porch.

      His hair was as unruly as ever, and he looked as if he hadn’t shaved today. The dark stubble turned his eyes impossibly blue, and a loden-green sport shirt showed off his wide chest. He looked handsome in a homey sort of way. In fact, his relaxed approach to grooming only sparked her interest more.

      He looked as if he’d just rolled out of bed.

      “You make that look easy,” he said.

      “What?”

      “Getting her in and out of that seat. It took me a long time to figure out those straps again after I got Wyatt to the hotel yesterday.”

      “Where is he?” she asked, just now realizing that Jack wasn’t carrying him.

      He pointed to his car. Whether from overprotectiveness, or a complete lack of trust, Abby was peering through the car window within seconds.

      Wyatt was in his car seat, sound asleep. The cracked window provided adequate ventilation, and the morning air was comfortable for early August. The boy was in no danger, but still…

      “How long have you left him in there?”

      “Less than two minutes,” Jack said. “He was asleep when we got here, so I came up to look around on the porch.”

      Abby squinted at him, wondering if he was being truthful. After yesterday, she wouldn’t be surprised if Wyatt had been left much longer. Jack might be some guru computer consultant, but he knew nothing about babies.

      “Go ahead, touch the hood of the car,” he said with a raised brow. “It’s probably still warm.”

      “That’s not necessary.” She sniffed and carried Rosie onto the porch. Once there, Abby foraged through her purse with one hand, searching for the door key.

      “Let me help,” Jack offered, holding his arms out.

      Reluctantly, Abby handed the baby over just long enough to locate her keys. Neither he nor Rosie seemed to mind the exchange. He smiled sweetly into the baby girl’s face, provoking a sweeter smile from Rosie, and a string of syllables that sounded something like, “Bibibibi deek?”

      Ignoring Jack’s chuckled response, Abby opened the door and stepped inside. Subdued light from an overhead window set off the foyer’s original wood flooring, and somehow the house smelled fresh, despite the fact that it had been closed up most of the past two weeks.

      Maybe it was an illusion—she’d always felt welcome when she walked through this doorway—but now just being here put her at ease. As if she’d come home.

      Jack followed her inside, with Rosie prattling happily in his arms. “Why don’t I get Wyatt and put him in his crib?” Abby offered. “It’s still set up in the nursery.”

      Without waiting for a response, she jogged back outside and lifted Wyatt from the car seat, cuddling him close as she returned.

      Jack had disappeared into the house with Rosie, so she headed upstairs to the nursery. She put Wyatt into his own crib and backed quietly away.

      At the doorway, she switched on the baby monitor and took the receiver with her. She found Jack and Rosie in the kitchen, looking out the French doors into the greenhouse Abby and Paige had built last year.

      Jack was speaking gently to the child, holding her up so she could see out. As soon as Abby walked into the room, he turned and said, “The flowers are thriving out there. Have you been keeping them up?” He shifted Rosie to his other arm, already seeming adept at holding a baby.

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