Rachel And The M.d.
Rachel And The M.d.
Donna Clayton
Dr. Sloan Radcliff was the first to admit he didn't know a thing about clothes, makeup–or dating! And although he refused to succumb to the triplets' shameless matchmaking schemes, he was glad they charmed Rachel Richards into helping out. In fact, he felt so grateful toward his lovely office assistant that he had a sudden urge to…kiss her! The brooding widower wasn't at all convinced he could fuldill Rachel's hopes and dreams, but the captivating beauty sure did turn his entire world asunder. Would he ever allow her close enough to resuscitate his lonesome life?
She was too stunning for words.
Her flame-red hair was wild about her shoulders. The new do made her normally pale skin glow and look more beautiful than he’d ever imagined. And her glistening lips were…overwhelmingly kissable.
His mouth went dry at the thought. His gaze seemed to have a mind of its own as it roved down the length of her, over the curve of her tiny waist that flowed right on down into flared hips.
An hourglass. She was a soft, luscious hourglass.
He choked as the startling thought lodged in his throat like some inhaled morsel of food.
Immediately, Rachel was clapping him on the back. “You okay?” she asked.
He was trying to flee. From what, he had no clue. He worked with her in the office every single weekday. But she’d never had this kind of effect on him before….
Dear Reader,
This holiday season, as our anniversary year draws to a close, we have much to celebrate. The talented authors who have published—and continue to publish—unforgettable love stories. You, the readers, who have made our twenty-year milestone possible. And this month’s very special offerings.
First stop: BACHELOR GULCH, Sandra Steffen’s popular ongoing miniseries. They’d shared an amazing night together; now a beguiling stranger was back in his life carrying Sky’s Pride and Joy. She’d dreamed Hunter’s Vow would be the marrying kind…until he learned about their child he’d never known existed—don’t miss this keeper by Susan Meier! Carolyn Zane’s BRUBAKER BRIDES are back! Montana’s Feisty Cowgirl thought she could pass as just another male ranch hand, but Montana wouldn’t rest till he knew her secrets…and made this 100% woman completely his!
Donna Clayton’s SINGLE DOCTOR DADS return…STAT. Rachel and the M.D. were office assistant and employer…so why was she imagining herself this widower’s bride and his triplets’ mother? Diana Whitney brings her adorable STORK EXPRESS series from Special Edition into Romance with the delightful story of what happens when Mixing Business…with Baby. And debut author Belinda Barnes tells the charming tale of a jilted groom who finds himself all dressed up…to deliver a pregnant beauty’s baby—don’t miss His Special Delivery!
Thank you for celebrating our 20th anniversary. In 2001 we’ll have even more excitement—the return of ROYALLY WED and Marie Ferrarella’s 100th book, to name a couple!
Happy reading!
Mary-Theresa Hussey
Senior Editor
Rachel and the M.D.
Donna Clayton
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This book is dedicated, in loving memory, to Louise Anderson
Books by Donna Clayton
Silhouette Romance
Mountain Laurel #720
Taking Love in Stride #781
Return of the Runaway Bride #999
Wife for a While #1039
Nanny and the Professor #1066
Fortune’s Bride #1118
Daddy Down the Aisle #1162
* (#litres_trial_promo)Miss Maxwell Becomes a Mom #1211
* (#litres_trial_promo)Nanny in the Nick of Time #1217
* (#litres_trial_promo)Beauty and the Bachelor Dad #1223
† (#litres_trial_promo)The Stand-By Significant Other #1284
† (#litres_trial_promo)Who’s the Father of Jenny’s Baby? #1302
The Boss and the Beauty #1342
His Ten-Year-Old Secret #1373
Her Dream Come True #1399
Adopted Dad #1417
His Wild Young Bride #1441
** (#litres_trial_promo)The Nanny Proposal #1477
** (#litres_trial_promo)The Doctor’s Medicine Woman #1483
** (#litres_trial_promo)Rachel and the M.D. #1489
DONNA CLAYTON
is proud to be a recipient of the Holt Medallion, an award honoring outstanding literary talent, for her Silhouette Romance novel Wife for a While. And seeing her work appear on the Waldenbooks Series Bestsellers list has given her a great deal of joy and satisfaction.
Reading is one of Donna’s favorite ways to wile away a rainy afternoon. She loves to hike, too. Another hobby added to her list of fun things to do is traveling. She fell in love with Europe during her first trip abroad and plans to return often. Oh, and Donna still collects cookbooks, but as her writing career grows, she finds herself using them less and less.
Donna loves to hear from her readers. Please write to her care of Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017.
Contents
Chapter One (#u435a9f20-fdca-5c3b-ae38-ab0abb4ab3fd)
Chapter Two (#ue4f36022-57ee-5d37-89bb-3bc37694dd62)
Chapter Three (#u6608cac3-6595-56bc-98e0-3c01df78f21d)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
There’s a look that narrows the eyes of a nearly teen adolescent—a look reflecting stubbornness-bordering-on-rebellion—that strikes terror in the heart of any normal parent. And Sloan Radcliff was receiving that very look from not one, but three pairs of eyes. The defiant expressions he confronted belonged to his daughters, his twelve-year-old triplet terrors.
Sloan tamped down the myriad of emotions creating chaos in his head and focused on keeping his voice calm, his nerves steely.
“Girls,” he quietly began. The experience of being a single parent for the last two years had taught him that, when dealing with his children’s obstinacy, a tranquil tone never really helped very much. However, he was the mature, sane adult here and he did want to act in a manner befitting that fact. For as long as he could possibly hold out, anyway.
“You know the rules,” he continued. “Nine o’clock. That’s curfew. You’re twelve years old. It’s not an unreasonable request.”
“Sez who?”
Oh, Lord. Sydney, the most quick-tempered of his three daughters, was already becoming bluntly out-spoken. He chose to ignore the fact that her short question was laced around the edges with insolence.
“Daddy,” Sasha whined pitifully, “this is going to be the party of the year. All the coolest kids will be there. We have to go. We just have to. If we don’t, we’ll be labeled as geek.” Her eyes were wide, her forehead furrowed, her arms gesturing wildly. All indications that if this classification were to take place, her entire existence would be ruined for all eternity.
Sloan’s brows rose a fraction. Not because Sasha was being overly dramatic—that was her trademark—but it was awfully early in the dispute for her to start displaying her well-oiled thespian skills. This New Year’s Eve get-together must be more important to his daughters than he’d first realized.
Glancing over at Sophie, the third of his lovely, lively daughters, he wasn’t surprised to see her arms crossed tightly over her rib cage, her mouth pressed together in a firm line.
With their long, straight brown hair and their nut-brown eyes, his girls might look like peas in a pod, but their characters—the methods they used to cope with everything from joy and success to anger, disappointment and stress—were as different as the snowflakes that now fell from the wintry, late December sky.
“Look, Dad,” Sydney piped up, “we’ve been asking you about this party for a month. Now it’s time to go shopping for dresses and shoes and stuff. We’re down to the wire. We need an answer. Now.”
“Shopping?” he asked. “But all three of you just received new clothes for Christmas—”
Sasha’s wide-eyed look of horror cut his protest off in midstream.
“You can’t expect us to wear those things,” Sasha said. “We got jeans and sweaters. Knock-around clothes. We need gowns.”
“Yes,” Sydney agreed with her sister. “We need long, elegant dresses. Everyone there will be wearing them.”
Seeing a means of lightening the mood, Sloan allowed exaggerated skepticism to tug at one corner of his mouth as he teased, “The boys are going to look pretty silly in—”
“Dad,” both Sydney and Sasha chimed. They shook their head in disgust.
“Our girl friends,” Sydney supplied. “You knew what we meant.”
“We need an answer,” Sasha pressed him. “The party is just four days away. Are you gonna let us go?”
He’d put off his girls as long as he could. He needed to make a decision. Let them go to the party? Or protect them, and at the same time, disappoint them terribly?
During times like this, he really hated being a single dad. With both sets of his daughters’ grandparents deceased, and him with no siblings, Sloan had no one to talk these things over with. He felt…lonely. Lost. And terribly unsure. He never knew for certain whether or not he was making the right choice. He needed more time.
“Girls, you can’t just come traipsing into my office, demanding—”
“All your patients are gone, Dad,” Sydney said. “The waiting room is empty.”
“It’s time for you to go home.” Sasha plunked her hand on her hip. “Besides, you were expecting us. Remember? You asked Annie’s mom to drop us off here.”
Of course Sloan remembered the girls had spent the day with a friend. He’d just been hedging for time.
“Sure, I remember,” he said jovially. He stood and pulled off his white lab coat. “How about if we stop off on the way home and pick up some burgers and fries for dinner? We’ll go to your favorite place.”
Three pairs of eyes glowered at him.
“We won’t let you change the subject, Dad.” Now Sydney, too, had her hands on her hips, her elbows cocked at wide angles.
“We want to go to the party!” Sasha said.
Sophie only nodded tightly, her gaze silently reflecting all the anxiety she was feeling.
Sloan sighed. He felt damned tired. He sat down, rubbed his palms up and down his thighs.
“Okay,” he said, “you can go to the party—”
“Whooo-hoo,” Sydney shouted.
“Yes!” Sasha threw her hands into the air and performed a joyful little jig.
Even Sophie smiled, the tension in her shoulders visibly melting away.
The girls began chattering to one another all at once.
“I’m going to get that black strapless dress I saw in the mall—”
“I’m wearing that electric-blue one with the slits up both sides—”
“I need panty hose and I want those strappy platform sandals—”
“And let’s not forget to go to the drugstore for makeup. I saw a tube of red lipstick I’ve just gotta have—”
Strapless dress? Electric-blue slits? Panty hose? Platform sandals? Red lipstick?
Sloan didn’t think so. Not while he still had breath in his body.
“Hold it!”
His daughters turned to face him, their excitement suddenly dimmed by his rare show of anger.
“I wasn’t finished,” he continued, not bothering to remove the edginess from his tone. “You can go to the party. But you can’t stay out until two o’clock in the morning.”
“But, Dad—” Sasha lamented.
“Oh, no—” the two little words Sydney emitted sounded like a groan from a horribly wounded animal “—he’s going to embarrass us. He’s going to ruin everything. Everyone will be looking at us. He’s going to make us leave early.”
She made the idea of premature departure sound like some sort of disfiguring disease. He wanted to point out just what kind of attention twelve-year-olds wearing revealing dresses and red lipstick would attract, but he chomped down firmly on his tongue and kept the thoughts to himself.
Sophie quietly pointed out. “Dad, Debbie’s mother rented a hall.”
Sloan shrugged. “I don’t care if Debbie’s mother rented Veterans’ Stadium. My daughters will not be out until the wee hours of the morning. You girls are twelve years old—”
Sydney’s chin rose, as did her voice, when she pointed out, “But I’ll be thirteen in three weeks.”
“Me, too,” Sasha said.
Through her tight jaw, Sophie added, “Me, three.”
This was their motto. Their united credo.
Rebellion glinted in their gazes now, bold and unmistakable.
Holding his ground, Sloan refused to be intimidated. “I don’t care if you’re going to be thirty-five. No daughter of mine is going to be out gallivanting in the middle of the night. You can celebrate the New Year, and I’ll be picking you up at twelve-thirty. And that’s final.”
Sasha’s bottom lip began to tremble, piteous tears welling in her big brown eyes.
“But Debbie’s mom is serving breakfast at one,” Sydney informed him. “And she’s making my favorite. Pancakes.”
“I’ll be happy to make pancakes just as soon as we get home from the party,” Sloan offered. But his words were firm, uncontestable.
The air grew tense and thick, and Sloan got the strange sense that something awful was about to happen.
Fate didn’t disappoint him.
Sophie—the quietest of his daughters—straightened her spine and squared her shoulders. She looked her father directly in the eye and proclaimed, “Well, I’m staying until the end of the party. I’m not going to let you ruin my first date with Bobby Snyders.”
Date? Had his little girl just said she had a date? With a boy?
Rachel Richards loved her job. She managed the medical practice of partners Sloan Radcliff, Travis Westcott and Greg Hamilton. The three men were more than doctors sharing a practice, they were friends who supported one another. Since she had no close relatives to speak of, the family-like atmosphere of the office was one of the reasons she so liked working there.
There were other reasons as well. Sloan and his daughters made up a big part of those reasons.
The seemingly never-ending pile of patient insurance forms had been a convenient excuse for her to remain at the office after hours, but the truth was she knew the triplets had planned to confront their father today about the party and she wanted to be nearby…just in case.
She’d loved those girls ever since her best friend Olivia, Sloan’s wife, had given birth to them. And Rachel had done everything she could to nurture them during the two years since Olivia had passed away.
The triplets shouldn’t gang up on their father the way they were doing this afternoon. Rachel had seen a lot of that kind of behavior lately. The girls acted like a pack of wild dogs, nipping and yelping from all sides, until Sloan caved in to their demands. And it seemed that, as the girls got older, the more crafty they became. Today they were showing just how they had perfected this “pack hunting” technique.
Rachel had remained at the office in order to dry their tears and smooth their ruffled feathers should Sloan refuse to allow them to attend the New Year’s Eve party. But as soon as she overheard the word date, she knew it was Sloan who was in urgent need of her support.
And if there was anything she could do for Sloan…Her heart raced. Anything at all…
With insurance papers still in one hand, a pen in the other, Rachel hurried into Sloan’s office.
His handsome face was ghostly pale when she entered the room. And his sensual mouth—the one that so often intruded on her dreams in the deepest, most vulnerable part of the night—was gaping as he so obviously searched for something to say.
Empathy for his plight welled up inside Rachel. She knew he agonized over his parenting responsibilities. Not that he bent her ear or leaned on her shoulder—she only wished he would. However, she knew he relied heavily on his friends and partners, Greg Hamilton and Travis Westcott.
Being a single, childless woman, Rachel really hadn’t a clue how to fix this problem between Sloan and his daughters. But she had to try. She simply had to.
Plastering a bright smile onto her face, she rustled up her courage and said, “Sounds like a little compromise is in order here.”
Four pairs of eyes turned to look at her. Focusing on Sloan’s chocolate-brown ones would be a mistake, she knew. Her tongue would tie up in knots. So she directed her attention to the girls, letting her gaze bounce from one to the next.
“It’s clear that your dad wants to let you go to the party,” she told them. “I overheard him say as much. But all three of you are going to have to be willing to make a few concessions where wardrobe and…and…a few other things are concerned.”
“Kids are always the ones who have to make concessions,” Sydney muttered.
“Well,” Rachel said smoothly, “nobody ever said that life is fair.”
After only a second or two, Rachel continued, “That party invitation you showed me stated that this shindig is semiformal.”
“Yes.” Sasha’s eyes brightened, evidently seeing Rachel as some sort of co-conspirator who had arrived to save the day. “That’s what we tried to explain to Dad. That we’d all need long gowns.”
“Honey, I hate to break this to you—” Rachel’s head tilted gently “—but semiformal does not mean fancy evening dresses.”
“Doesn’t mean strapless gowns or electric-blue slits, either,” Sloan murmured under his breath.
Rachel suppressed the small smile tugging at her mouth, but the obvious appreciation she read in his brown gaze made her breath hitch in her throat.
“How about,” she offered, forcing herself to focus on the girls once again, “if I take the three of you shopping? We’ll buy nice, tasteful dresses that your father will approve of.”
“B-but all the girls are wearing—”
“Trust me on this, Sydney,” Rachel said firmly.
“What about makeup?” Sasha looked sulky, her bottom lip protruding.
Rachel reached out and touched the girl’s cheek with her fingertips. “You’re so beautiful you don’t need makeup. But maybe your dad will agree to a little lightly tinted lip gloss. That’ll accentuate your cute mouth without too much garish color. What do you say, Sloan?”
Again, the gratitude in his intense eyes made her feel as if all the air in the room had condensed. He smiled at her. Blood thrummed through her body.
And then that familiar guilt descended on her like a thick, heavy layer of wet wool. It congealed in her chest and she fought to swallow a nervous cough.
“I think I could live with that.” Sloan nodded, evidently not noticing the chaos coursing through her.
Sophie stepped toward Rachel. “But what about having to leave the party early? We can’t—”
“Don’t push it, Sophie,” Rachel softly warned, narrowing her eyes in a manner that conveyed the same gentle but firm message. “We don’t even know if that’s negotiable. We’ll let your dad think about it. Then he can let you know.”
She addressed all three girls, “Go get into your coats. I’ll meet you in the waiting area.”
Once the two of them were alone, Sloan said, “I really appreciate this, Rachel.”
The richness of his voice nearly made her toes curl with pleasure.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” she told him. Had someone been fiddling with the thermostat? she wondered. It sure was hot in this office. “I’m happy to take the girls to the mall.”
He pulled out his wallet and handed her some money. “This is for dinner. That band of raving rebels will be hungry before long.” Affection candy-coated his words. Then he paused, sudden indecision shadowing his gaze. “Should I be going along with you?”
“Nah.” A tiny smile twisted one corner of her mouth. “We’ll probably end up shopping at half a dozen different stores before we’re through. It would be very boring for you.”
“Well, put the dresses on your charge account and I’ll pay the bill when it arrives.”
She nodded. “Fair enough.” This part was routine. She’d taken the girls shopping for clothing many times. Then she told him, “I’ll have them home before nine.”
“Drive safe,” he said, glancing out the window. “The snow has thinned, but it’s still coming down out there.”
Rachel would have loved to think his words of warning were because he was worried about her safety. But she knew his daughters were the precious cargo at the forefront of his mind, as they should be.
“The roads have been salted.”
However, before the words had even left her mouth, Sloan had already turned his attention to the patient file sitting open on his desk. So she left his office and strolled down the hallway toward the sounds of the girls’ excited chatter.
She really was happy to have the opportunity to help Sloan and his daughters. Terribly happy. She just wished she would stop being engulfed by this wave of tremendous guilt—a wave that threatened to drown her each and every time she and Sloan were together.
Oh, she knew what caused this awful, dark emotion. Knew it just as well as she knew her own name.
The guilt was her conscience. An inner voice that constantly told her she had no right—no right, whatsoever—to have fallen in love with her best friend’s husband.
“Rachel, can I ask you a question?”
The snow blanketing the city wasn’t all that thick, but it was substantial enough to muffle the city sounds from outside. And the interior of the car seemed quieter, too.
“Sure, Sophie.” Rachel glanced into the rearview mirror, but couldn’t make out the child’s face. “Ask me anything.”
“Well…w-what…” Sophie paused, then tried again. “What does it feel like…you know…to kiss a boy?”
Rachel’s brows rose. She’d fully expected to hear complaints about Sloan’s stubbornness, about what the girls surely labeled their father’s overprotective nature. It hadn’t dawned on her that Sophie’s question would deal with relationships. Wow, this conversation just might lead to a discussion about the birds and the bees.
However, rather than being distressed by the prospect, Rachel felt honored. Sophie’s question let Rachel know the girls felt comfortable with her. Comfortable to talk about anything. Even kissing boys.
Before she could answer, Sydney giggled at her sister’s query. But Sasha’s tone was awestruck as she asked Sophie, “Do you really think Bobby will kiss you at the party?”
Rachel sensed Sophie’s shrug.
“Well, it’s New Year’s Eve,” Sophie began slowly. “People always hug and kiss to celebrate the coming in of the new year, right?”
Sasha’s voice became even more breathless. “You’re right. They do.”
Sydney’s laughter quickly died, and she, too, seemed overwhelmed by the prospect that her sister might experience her first real, honest-to-goodness kiss in just four short days.
The air felt all shivery with apprehension.
“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” Rachel said softly. “It’s nice. Being kissed, I mean. When your lips touch, it’ll feel…nice. Warm. But the biggest reaction you’ll have is inside. Your stomach will become jumpy. Jittery. Giddy. You’ll feel light-headed, and your knees will get weak.”
Where on earth was this description coming from? Rachel wondered. She hadn’t been kissed in so long…she couldn’t even remember how long it had been! Where did she get off telling the triplets what to expect?
“Ick!” Sydney said. “Sounds like flu symptoms to me.”
Rachel didn’t have time to chuckle before Sasha’s serious tone cut in, “You’ll have to make sure you brush your teeth, Sophie. You wouldn’t want to smell like those cocktail wienies that Debbie said her mom is going to serve as snacks.”
Sydney absently played with her zipper, the metal teeth grinding as the coat was anxiously fastened and unfastened. “And you know how Debbie’s mom thinks she’s a gourmet cook. She puts garlic in everything.”
“Gosh,” Sophie said, “I won’t be able to eat all night.”
“Sure you will.” Rachel pulled the car to a halt at a stop sign and looked for oncoming traffic. “Just keep a stick of gum or a breath mint handy, and pop it into your mouth a few minutes before the count-down begins.”
Sophie’s voice was tight as she declared, “I’ll just die of embarrassment if Dad makes us leave the party too early.”
Rachel sensed rather than saw the other two girls nod in silent agreement.
“Why is Dad so uptight, anyway?” Sydney asked.
“Doesn’t he know that curfews are…jeez, well, that they’re so old-fashioned?” Sasha added.
Rachel suppressed a sigh. “He loves you,” she told the girls. “He’s only trying to be the best dad he can be. And as for curfews being old-fashioned—” she couldn’t keep the humor out of her voice “—I want to hear you tell me that again once you’re raising children of your own.”
“Oh, I would never tell my kids when they have to come in.”
Laughter actually bubbled up from Rachel’s throat, and she had trouble quelling it. She found the utter sincerity in Sydney’s tone comical, although she knew the child really thought she meant what she was saying.
“And I would never make them leave a party early.”
Sophie’s sullen countenance made Rachel sigh. “Look, guys. You’re going to the party. You’d better be willing to compromise about when you come home.”
“We are going to the party,” Sasha agreed with Rachel, pointing out the fact to her siblings. “And we get to pick out new dresses, too.”
The parking lot of the mall was nearly deserted on this snowy night.
“I say we have some dinner,” Rachel said as she turned off the engine of her car. “Then we’ll hit the stores.”
“Look, Rachel won’t be gone for long,” Sydney told her sisters in the restaurant. “She’ll be back from the ladies’ room before we know it…so listen up, we need to talk.”
“About what?” Sasha asked, dipping a French fry in ketchup and nibbling the end. “This curfew thing?”
Sophie looked interested.
“Not just the curfew,” Sydney said. “But Dad in general. He’s so protective. It’s weirding me out.”
“Me, too,” Sasha agreed.
Sophie automatically whispered, “Me, three,” the onion ring she held in her fingers for the moment forgotten.
“We’ve gotta do something,” Sydney declared. “And we’ve gotta do it now. Or he’s going to ruin our lives. We’re going to be teenagers next month.”
The other sisters nodded, all three growing silent as they pondered. Any passerby would have gotten the impression that the girls were contemplating paradise.
“We need to find some way to get him to stop pestering us about where we’re going and who we’re with and when we’ll be home.”
Sasha’s mouth curled up derisively. “This is Dad we’re talking about. That’s never going to happen.”
Insulted, Sydney shot back, “It could happen. All we need is a plan.”
“What we need,” Sophie said, “is to present Dad with something other than us to concentrate on.”
“His patients have always taken up a lot of his time.” Another French fry disappeared between Sasha’s lips.
“It’s not nice to hope people get sick.” Sophie dropped the onion ring and wiped her fingers on a napkin.
“I’d never do that.” Sasha looked aggrieved. “I was just sayin’—”
“What we need,” Sydney said, “is a diversion for Dad.”
“Hey!” Sophie’s dark eyes lit up. “Remember when Dr. Greg hired that nanny a couple months ago? Miss Jane turned his life upside down.”
“We’re too old for a nanny,” Sydney said.
“Jeez, Sydney, you’re so infantile.” Sophie rolled her eyes. “I’m not talking about a nanny for us. I’m talking about a nanny for Dad.”
Her sisters looked at her as if they thought she had lost her marbles.
Again she rolled her eyes. “A woman…for Dad.”
“Eeewww!” Sasha’s face scrunched up tight. “What woman would want Dad? He’s old.”
“Wow, Sophie,” Sydney breathed, “you’re a genius. I remember Dr. Greg called Dad and Dr. Travis and asked them to come into the office for those emergency meetings of theirs lots of times. All about Miss Jane.”
Sophie looked more sure of herself. “And come to think of it, Dr. Travis is pretty shook up over having Miss Diana came to live with him, too.” She took a moment to ponder.
“How are we going to get a woman to come live with us?” Sasha was clearly baffled.
“We don’t really need to have some woman in our house…do we?” Trepidation weighed heavy in Sydney’s voice.
Sophie shook her head. “All we need is a distraction. Something that will take Dad’s focus off us. Like Miss Jane captured Dr. Greg’s attention. And Miss Diana has Dr. Travis’s. We need for Dad to get all worked up. Just like Dr. Greg and Dr. Travis. We need Dad to get so upset that he’ll call special meetings and stuff.” Her brow furrowed suddenly. “Wonder why men can’t work out their woman troubles by themselves?”
“That’s what we need!” Sydney said. “Or rather, that’s what Dad needs. Woman troubles.”
“Okay,” Sasha agreed, “but we’re right back to where we were before. Where are we going to find a woman who would be the least bit interested in our father?” Again, her face screwed up as if the mere idea was downright repulsive.
“Lots of kids at school have parents who are divorced,” Sophie said.
Sasha blurted, “Hey, Debbie’s mom is single.”
“Don’t even go there!” Sydney shivered. “Could you imagine Dad hooked up with Debbie’s mom? That woman is too snobby for her own good.”
“I’m with you,” Sophie said. “I don’t mind going to Debbie’s party, but I don’t want her to be my step-sister.”
“Jeez,” Sasha said, anxiety lighting her eyes, “you never said this woman-trouble thing would turn into anything permanent. I don’t know…” She was obviously having some serious second thoughts.
“Hey,” Sophie said, “I don’t want Dad to get married…or…or even have a steady girlfriend any more than you do. But if we’re going to have any fun during our teenage years, we’ve gotta do something!”
Sydney spoke again, “And if there’s any chance of Dad gettin’ married, I sure don’t want to be related to any of the kids from school. Talk about weird.”
All three were silent as they thought about their dilemma.
Finally, Sasha said, “Well, I hate to keep bringing this up, but we still haven’t solved the problem of finding a woman.”
Just then Rachel arrived back at the table.
The clear and obvious solution smacked all three of the girls in the face at the same instant. Their eyes widened as they looked at one another.
And then they burst into gales of giggles.
Rachel cocked her head to one side. “What scheme are you girls hatching now?” she asked.
The girls laughed all the harder.
“I’m so glad you saved me a few of those onion rings,” Rachel said, swiping one from the plate and popping it into her mouth. Then she slid into the booth next to Sophie, like an innocent lamb strolling into a butcher’s shop.
Chapter Two
Something odd was going on. The girls’ behavior was…fishy. They seemed to be arguing among themselves, Rachel thought. However, their voices never rose above a hushed whisper and they seemed to engage in this secret battle only when they went into the dressing rooms to try on outfits. And every time Rachel was stirred to intervene and probe the problem, they would smile up at her innocently and make some remark that led her to believe that they were deliriously happy with their siblings and all was right with the world.
Yes, something was definitely fishy.
In the department store, Rachel had slipped into the fitting area with a lovely dress made of a fabric she thought Sydney would love. As she stood on one side of the curtain, Sophie and Sydney on the other, Rachel overheard Sophie snap, “I will not let you ruin my evening.”
To which Sydney had replied, “But this was your idea!”
Rachel had no clue what Sydney had suggested that might spoil their shopping trip at the mall, and she hadn’t a chance to hear another word as Sasha rushed into the fitting area behind her, loudly calling Rachel’s name and proclaiming how much she adored the dress Rachel had chosen for Sydney.
Luckily, whatever hullabaloo had been brewing between the triplets eventually subsided and died away completely. Or seemed to, at least. And two and a half hours after arriving at the mall, having visited only one major department store and three apparel shops, the girls were outfitted for the party.
“These after-Christmas sales are great,” Rachel said, smiling through her fatigue. “Your dad is going to be quite pleased when he learns how much money we saved.”
Judging from the girls’ lukewarm reactions, Rachel came to the conclusion that frugality wasn’t in their adolescent dictionary.
“What do you say we stop at the food court for an ice cream before we head home?” she asked them.
Their reactions to this suggestion weren’t the least bit hesitant or halfhearted. Rachel just shook her head and laughed.
Once the four of them were seated, each feasting on a mound of ice cream smothered in various toppings, Sydney said, “Rachel, would you consider coming to the party with us?”
Her spoon had been poised midway between her dish and her mouth, but Rachel forgot all about luscious fudge sauce, so surprised was she by the question.
Sasha piped up, “Oh, you wouldn’t be coming as a guest. You’d be a chaperone.”
“I see.”
Was that hesitation Rachel saw in Sophie’s expression? But when next she looked, the child’s face was filled with a smile, even if it was tight-lipped.
Sophie said, “Debbie’s mother asked last week if some of the parents could come to help out, but…w-well…we didn’t really want—”
Rachel smiled. “I understand. When you’re twelve years old, adult supervision is the last thing you want.”
She slipped the fudge-encrusted spoon between her lips and rolled the chocolate around in her mouth. After she swallowed, she asked, “But don’t you think you ought to talk to your dad about this? His feelings might be hurt if you don’t give him the opportunity to attend the party.” She hastily added, “As a chaperone, of course.”
The triplets looked at each other, and Rachel got the distinct impression that they were actually communicating by some sort of mental telepathy. It was silly, really, but then again, she’d read that identical siblings often had a special bond.
Finally, Sydney said, “Would you go?” She averted her gaze and added, “You know, if Dad says it’s okay?”
Rachel looked down at her dish of ice cream, swirled her spoon in the whipped cream and nudged at the cherry as she dealt with the sudden emotion welling inside her.
Warmth filled her heart, and unexpected tears blurred her vision. The love she felt for these children was overwhelming at times. Here they were, getting ready to go to their first semiformal party, one of them even contemplating experiencing her very first kiss, and they were asking her to be a part of their special evening.
Memories bombarded Rachel. In the blink of an eye, she was standing beside her best friend’s hospital bed, promising Olivia that she’d watch out for the girls. That she’d help to nurture them. That she’d do all she could to see to it that they grew into intelligent, well-rounded, happy individuals.
Olivia wasn’t here to attend the triplets’ first fancy party. Olivia couldn’t snap any pictures of them all dressed up for the evening. Olivia couldn’t give them advice about boys, or buy them pretty dresses, or act as a chaperone.
So Rachel would step forward and do all of these things.
“What’s wrong?” Sophie asked, a frown biting deeply into her young brow.
“Why are you upset?” Sasha put her spoon down and stared at Rachel with worry in her gaze.
“I’m fine,” Rachel assured them softly. “I was just thinking…”
She let the rest of her words trail off. The girls didn’t need to be reminded of sad memories of their mother and what she and they were missing. No, this should be a joyful time for them.
“I was just thinking how happy I am that you asked me to go with you.” She grinned at them. “I’d love to chaperone the party.”
“Great!” Sydney said. “Now maybe Dad will let us stay out later than twelve-thirty.”
Ah, Rachel thought, so the curfew had been what motivated them to invite her along. Leave it to practical, outspoken Sydney to burst Rachel’s heartwarming fantasy of playing mommy.
But Rachel didn’t feel hurt. She smiled, catching the eye of each one of them. The girls had no idea of the depth of her love for them, she was certain. She might not be their mother, she might not have given birth to them, but she sure did love them bunches and bunches. Like any mother loved her children.
Scooping up another spoonful of ice cream slathered with fudge sauce, Rachel said, “I can’t promise you that your curfew will be any later. But I can promise you that I’ll be at that party. With bells on!”
Sydney, Sophie and Sasha looked satisfied. Almost too satisfied.
Sloan looked in the mirror and straightened his tie. He was feeling pretty awkward about the New Year’s Eve party he was about to chaperone for his daughters.
On the one hand, his heart felt all warm and mushy from his having been asked to attend. His emotions might have been categorized as something less than masculine by any male who wasn’t a father. But he was sure dads all over the world would understand perfectly what he was going through. When the girls had approached him about chaperoning, their eyes had looked everywhere but at him, and their voices had been hesitant. They’d been as cute as little ladybugs. There had been no way he could have refused them.
But on the other hand, he’d be lying if he said he was really looking forward to this event.
His daughters would be laughing and gossiping, as girls their age were wont to do. However, they’d also be interacting with their friends. With boys. That idea just didn’t sit well with him.
He wasn’t a total idiot. He knew his girls had to grow up. But did they have to do it now?
Couldn’t they wait? Like…a dozen or so years? Maybe then he’d be ready for this stage in their lives. As it was now, he wasn’t prepared at all.
Then another question floated through his brain: was any father ever ready for his little girls to grow up? He seriously doubted it.
Scowling at his image in the mirror, he murmured, “Growing up, indeed.”
His daughters were only twelve. They were too young for parties that would keep them out after their curfew. They were too young to be dancing with boys. Flirting with boys. Kissing boys—
He snapped off the thought as surely and as thoroughly as if it had been a lightbulb. He didn’t mind plunging his brain into total darkness. Anything was better than continuing along this line of panic-inducing ponderings. If he didn’t shut these thoughts down, he’d change his mind altogether and make Sydney, Sasha and Sophie ring in the New Year right here at home. And they’d never forgive him for that. Never.
So…how bad could the evening be? he wondered. He would be present at the party to watch all the goings-on. And when it came to his girls, he had the eye of an eagle.
The doorbell rang and Sloan grumbled under his breath. His daughters had probably offered one of their friends a lift to the party and had forgotten to tell him about it. He didn’t mind. He only wished they would keep him apprised of the plans they made, then revamped, then revised yet again.
“Girls,” he called down the hallway toward their rooms, “I’m going down to answer the door. You’d better hurry it up. It’ll be time to go soon.”
Sounds of frantic scrambling and panicked shrieks made him smile. One thing about his daughters, they could have five full hours to get themselves ready, and still they’d need more time.
He was still chuckling when he reached the front door and pulled it open. The sight he beheld made the grin on his face freeze as if his mouth had suddenly turned to solid concrete.
It was…it was…
Rachel smiled a silent greeting, stepped inside, closed the door behind her and then let her dress coat slide from her shoulders.
Thoughts refused to form coherently. Hell, they refused to form at all. It was as if his brain had completely shut down.
He took a deep breath. Forced himself to swallow. And blink, once, then again.
She looked too stunning for words.
Her flame-red hair—usually tamed by some sort of elastic band or hair clip when she was at the office—was wild about her shoulders, making for a very sultry look. This new do made her normally pale skin glow and look more delicate, more beautiful than he’d ever seen it.
At work, Rachel looked like any typical woman. However, tonight she’d done something to accentuate her brown eyes. He’d never realized before that her irises were flecked with a warm gold color that reminded him of heated honey. And her mouth. The bow was…utterly perfect. And he’d never seen her full bottom lip glisten so. The effect was…overwhelmingly kissable.
His mouth went dry at the thought, and he knew he should be ashamed of himself. But his mind was too busy with other things to take the time to do any silent berating.
Her black cocktail dress was shot through with silver threads, the fabric following the contours of her slender body. His gaze seemed to have a mind of its own as it roved down the length of her, over the swell of her breasts, the curve of her tiny waist that flowed right on down into flared hips.
An hourglass. She was a soft, luscious hourglass.
He choked as the startling thought lodged in his throat like some inhaled morsel of food.
Immediately, Rachel was clapping him on the back.
“You okay?” she asked, following him as he retreated into the living room.
If the truth were known, he was trying to flee. From what, he had no clue. But she stuck with him, following on those long, black-stocking-clad legs. She raised graceful, milky arms, and with her petite hands began slapping him soundly between the shoulder blades.
Aren’t you cold? he wanted to ask. Didn’t she know it was winter? Where were the sleeves of her dress? He’d never seen Rachel display so much…skin.
He worked with her in the office every single weekday. However, it was office policy that the employees wore colorful smocks over their attire. The nurses and office staff had a different color smock for every day of the week. He’d never realized just how shapeless those uniforms were. Before this moment, he’d never even realized that Rachel had a body.
Well, of course he’d known she’d had a body. He was a doctor, for goodness sake. But he never realized what a body she had!
Oh, hell.
Get a grip, he silently commanded himself. What on earth was the matter with him?
He needed to put a bit of space between them, that was all. He’d anticipated opening the door to one of his daughters’ friends. He hadn’t expected to see Rachel standing there at all. Her appearance had startled him.
Startled him? She’d shocked clear thinking right out of his brain. Like a solid whack with a sledgehammer right between the eyeballs.
“I’m fine,” he told her, ducking to the left. “I’m okay.”
As soon as he spoke, she stopped, and he continued on several paces just to give himself a little distance. Once he reached the couch, he paused to catch his breath, gather his wits. Only then did he turn to face her.
“You sure you’re okay?”
The concern in her golden-bronze gaze affected him mightily. Usually, her interest was focused on his children. Rachel was their godmother. And she’d gone out of her way, especially since Olivia’s death, to see that his girls were well-cared for. But recently she seemed more attached to his family than ever.
No, he silently answered her question. I’m not at all sure that I’m okay.
However, what he said was, “Sure. I’m fine. Just got a little choked up is all. I’m okay now. Really.”
The entire time his mouth was uttering the words, he had to fight with his eyes to keep them focused on Rachel’s face. His gaze kept wanting to slide down the length of her body, to get one more glimpse of those sinfully long and shapely legs of hers. Sometime during the last few frantic seconds, his subconscious must have noticed that the hem of her sexy little cocktail dress ended at midthigh. The urge to gape, stare, ogle, was pretty darned near overwhelming. He couldn’t fathom what had gotten into him.
She sure did look like a million bucks. Certainly, to have realized that fact—obviously so, he was afraid—and not to comment on it would seem more than a little odd. So, tugging absently at the lapels of his jacket, he said, “Y-you, ah, you look great.”
“So do you.”
For the first time, he vaguely recognized that her gaze was clouded with what looked like confusion. A tiny crease marred the delicate skin between her eyes. However, he was still fighting off the strange effect her appearance had had on him, and that took so much effort that he didn’t really have it in him to wonder too awfully much about what she might find bewildering.
“You obviously have plans tonight.” As soon as he uttered the words, he was struck by the strangest feeling. An odd heaviness sat on his chest like a cement block.
“I was about to say the same thing to you.”
Was that accusation he heard in her tone? he wondered. This whole situation had him feeling odd. Just a little off-kilter.
When he didn’t answer, she said, “I’m going to the New Year’s Eve party with the girls. They asked if I would help Debbie’s mother by acting as a chaperone. And I agreed. I’m here to pick up the girls. Are they ready?” Then her head tilted and she asked, “They didn’t tell you?”
Immediately upon hearing that Rachel would be attending the same party as he, the bizarre heaviness seemed to evaporate. What took its place was a curious lightness that wafted around him like sweet, candy-scented air. But he no more understood this sugary feeling than he did the other emotions that had reached up out of nowhere to grab at him.
What was wrong with his central nervous system? Was he coming down with a cold?
“No,” he told her, feeling preoccupied with the emotions churning inside him. “The girls never said a word.” He felt his brow furrow with uncertainty. Why hadn’t the girls let him know they had asked Rachel to go to the party?
Kids. Would they ever become responsible for their actions?
Now, Rachel looked as if she felt awkward.
“Y-you,” she stammered hesitantly, “look as if you have plans for the evening. Are you going out?”
Then he chuckled, nodding ironically. “I’m going to the party, too.”
The glow he had noticed seemed to fade and Rachel’s face suddenly took on an ashen shade.
“You are?”
“Uh-huh,” he told her softly. “I am. They asked me today. I guess the three of them somehow got their signals crossed.”
“But they were all together when…” Rachel’s thought seemed to peter out, and she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter,” she said.
A sudden thought struck him. “Look, since I’m going…there’s really no need for you to be troubled—”
“But, Dad!”
“We want Rachel to go—”
“She’s gotta go, Dad. Debbie’s mom is expecting her help.”
Sloan turned to see his daughters standing at the foot of the stairs.
The first things he noticed were their expressions. Surreptitious. Sly. Even sneaky wouldn’t have been too harsh a word to describe the looks in their eyes. What were they up to?
Before he could give the question the attention it deserved, he noticed their attire. His little girls were beautiful in their party dresses and fancy shoes. Looking all grown-up. Their long, dark hair glistening. His mouth opened, his breath leaving him in a rush.
His daughters were lovely. Lovely enough to make everything else slide into the background of his brain as his heart contracted with love.
Music blared at an earsplitting level. Sloan positioned himself at the very back of the large banquet room in order to save his hearing. He couldn’t believe how elaborate the party decorations were. Mrs. Fox, Debbie’s mother, had gone to great lengths to make her daughter’s New Year’s Eve bash a success.
Colorful helium balloons bobbed from ribbons anchored to every conceivable surface. Streamers were draped from the corners of the room, some of them dangling straight down from the ceiling, making a sort of obstacle course that the kids seemed to love. The tables were covered with cloths that had been sprinkled with shimmering confetti. One long table was weighed down with food and beverages. The dance floor was lit from above with rainbow lighting, and the tunes were being played by a professional disc jockey. A professional DJ for twelve-year-olds?
Yes, quite a bit of money had been paid out for this affair.
Sloan was surprised by the number of children milling around. One group of kids ambled by him, and not one of them even acknowledged him with a look, let alone a verbal greeting. Ah, well, he thought, they were off in their own world. A world that didn’t include chaperones. He chuckled to himself.
He was feeling so…odd. And he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.
Lighthearted. Gleeful, even. The music was deafening, yes, and the pop tunes were definitely not his favorite style. But he’d found himself tapping his toes to the beat a time or two.
However, along with this peculiar breeziness, he also felt a sense of foreboding. He couldn’t help thinking that something was about to happen. Often he was struck by a feeling of premonition. And when he got that feeling, it usually wasn’t long before he received a call from his answering service with a message from a patient who needed him. He hated the idea of being called away from the triplets’ big night out. But if that were to happen, Rachel was here to save the day—or rather, the evening—for the girls.
Yes, something strange was in the air. That was certain. And he was struck by yet another odd sensation—that whatever it was had something to do with Rachel.
The thought of her had him scanning the room. It took no time at all to find her in the crowd. In fact, it was almost as if his subconscious had been keeping tabs on Rachel’s location—and the location of his daughters—ever since the five of them had arrived.
As usual, Rachel had pitched in right away, helping Mrs. Fox with various jobs. She’d laughed with the kids, who didn’t seem to ignore her the way they ignored him. She’d even dragged some of the girls and boys out onto the dance floor when no one had seemed willing to start the party rolling. Her shoulders had shimmied as she’d danced, her fanny swaying to the rhythm of the music. That sight had had him suppressing a smile, and reaching to loosen the collar of his shirt.
Even now, as he thought of it, his toe began to tap lightly, a grin tugging at one corner of his mouth. He could almost feel his blood pressure rising, although Rachel was no longer dancing, but filling up cups with punch for some thirsty adolescents.
Lord, she sure looked good—
“Dr. Radcliff—”
Sloan started, not realizing just how mesmerized he’d become by his surveillance of Rachel—by his surveillance of everyone, he silently and swiftly corrected the thought. It was his job to chaperone, wasn’t it?
“Mrs. Fox,” he said, greeting her with a nod.
“Please call me Virginia. Our daughters have been friends for too long for us to be so formal.”
He smiled. “All right, Virginia. And you can call me Sloan.”
“I’d love to.”
The unexpected sultry quality of her voice made him pause. Then he said, “Great party you’ve put on here. The kids are really enjoying themselves.”
“You think so?”
Anxiety tinged her blue eyes, clouding them a little. Again, he nodded his assurance.
“I came over—”
Her hand slid over his forearm as she spoke, and Sloan was engulfed by the urge to step away from the woman. Even though he didn’t back up an inch, she still moved closer to him, almost as if she sensed his impulse to retreat.
“—to thank you for coming to help,” she purred. Her smile was so warm it could have melted asphalt. He was actually taken aback. He was struck by the thought that Virginia Fox was some kind of Amazon huntress—and he was most definitely the prey. He’d never actually been made to feel like wild game before, caught in the crosshairs. This was a first.
She cast a quick glance over her shoulder and then turned to face him again, whispering, “After the party, do you think you might like to go out—” another covert scan of the room “—and have a drink?”
He did lean away from her now as he tried to control his astonishment.
“Won’t it be awfully late?” The question rolled from his tongue before he could think of anything else to say. “Besides, my girls will need me to…I’ll need to see that they…”
He was flabbergasted by the woman’s suggestion. They both had children that needed tending. How could she think he could leave them home alone in the middle of the night?
She waved away his pitiful excuses. “You can get that secretary of yours—what’s her name? Raquel?—to take care of them for you.” Virginia cast another glance around the party. “She seems nice enough. Competent, even.” The woman’s voice dropped an octave as she added, “If you like the flamboyant type, that is.”
Flamboyant? Rachel?
Sloan wanted to burst out laughing.
Granted, Rachel’s hair was a little wild tonight. But everyone was allowed to let their hair down every now and then, weren’t they? And, yes, that dress…The mere thought of it had him mentally shaking his head in wonder. If the black-and-silver fabric had any sense at all it would be deliriously happy to be snuggling against Rachel’s luscious curves.
He was definitely losing his grip. These sexual thoughts about his office manager were growing more curious and more unrestrained as the evening wore on.
Virginia’s hand slid up his arm, her fingers squeezing his biceps suggestively.
“Come on,” she breathed. “Having a drink together will be fun.”
He’d met Debbie’s mother at school functions a few times, but she’d never approached him in such an intimate manner before. He hated to hurt the woman’s feelings, but he just wasn’t interested—
“Hey, Dad.”
Sloan had never been happier to see anyone in all his born days as he was to see Sophie right now. Rachel was with his daughter, and Sloan seized the opportunity to extricate himself from Virginia’s possessive clutches.
“Hi, honey,” Sloan greeted his daughter. “You having a good time?”
“Yeah.” She cut her eyes up at Mrs. Fox who took a backward step, at least having enough sense to look chagrined. “Thanks for the party, Mrs. F.”
“Why, you’re welcome…which one are you?” She then laughed nervously as she looked at Sloan. “I can never tell your girls apart.”
“I’m Sophie,” his daughter provided.
Her mind obviously on other things, Virginia ignored the child completely, plastered on a smile and commented without much enthusiasm, “Why, look, Raquel brought us some punch. How nice.”
“It’s Rachel,” Sophie automatically corrected. “And the punch is for Dad.”
Rachel smiled apologetically at the woman. Handing the cup to Sloan, she said, “Sophie thought you might be thirsty.”
After a little shuffling that his daughter had seemed to initiate, Sloan found himself standing close to Rachel. Very close.
Rachel looked down at Sophie. “There’s plenty of room. No need to crowd your father.”
“Thanks,” he said. He looked down into the red fruity drink, but the awkwardness of the moment kept him from enjoying a sip.
Then Sophie blurted, “Dad, are you planning to dance tonight?”
He grinned down at her. “Is that an invitation?”
“Ick! No way!” she screeched. Then she let out a snort of laughter. “The kids really would think I’m a geek if I danced with my father. Bobby’s waiting for me.” She smiled up at him. “I thought you might like to ask Rachel.”
What an idea! he thought. He could have hugged Sophie for giving him a great excuse for escaping Virginia—and the perfect justification for holding Rachel in his arms. At that very moment, he realized that was what he’d been wanting to do ever since she’d shown up on his doorstep looking gorgeous.
“Thanks for the suggestion, honey,” he told his daughter. Then he teased, “But…are the chaperones allowed to dance? I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.”
“Just so long as you don’t start acting goofy,” was Sophie’s response.
He chuckled. “I promise to restrain myself.” Then he looked at Rachel, “Would you like to dance?”
Her honey-brown eyes filled with pleasant surprise, and she nodded.
He grinned at her, then turned to Virginia. “Here. Enjoy this while I’m gone.”
Then, leaving the blonde holding his punch cup with her red-painted mouth partly open in disbelief, he led Rachel toward the dance floor.
Chapter Three
Heaven couldn’t be more wonderful than this. Cradled in Sloan’s strong, protective arms, Rachel felt as if she were in paradise. The slow music wrapped around them, enfolded them in the most sensuous rhythm imaginable.
She’d known Sloan for years, so it wasn’t as if they’d never had the opportunity to be close. She was the godmother of his daughters. His deceased wife’s best friend. She’d helped him nurse Olivia until the bitter end. And she worked with him daily as she managed his medical office. She supposed he considered her his friend—although she’d always wanted to be so much more than that. However, being friends meant they celebrated nearly every holiday together. There were birthday hugs and Christmas kisses, quick displays of friendly affection that always took place in the blink of an eye. The number of times that the two of them had slow-danced together could be counted on one of Rachel’s hands.
At Sloan’s wedding—oh-so-many years ago—Rachel had found herself in his arms…and it had been the most awkward moment she’d ever lived through. The circumstances had been tense. For everyone concerned. Rachel could close her eyes right now and easily remember the strain visible on Sloan’s handsome face on the day he had wed Olivia. Rachel’s heart had ached for him, and she’d been furious with Olivia and her conniving ways. No one deserved the treatment she had inflicted on—
Sloan’s hand slid down the length of Rachel’s back, nestling lightly on the curve of her spine, causing her heart to flutter, and knocking her out of the awful reverie of the past. Rachel hated the silly, schoolgirl reaction that overwhelmed her each and every time she was near Sloan. You’d think her physical response to him would have diminished with time, especially since he didn’t seem to be affected by her—attracted to her—in the least. However, the emotions that stirred in her when she was near him hadn’t abated one bit over the years. Not one tiny bit.
Defeating the silly feelings had been impossible. She’d tried hard to do just that. By ignoring them. Mentally stomping on them. Ranting and raving against them when she was all alone in her apartment, among other things. Nothing had worked. Nothing. So she’d simply decided to suffer them in silence.
Again, his fingers played over the small of her back. She was so conscious of his touch. It was rare that she felt his hands on her.
The warmth of his skin through the fabric of her dress made her pulse heat. Her stomach seemed to twist and turn in somersaults, but she did her best to keep her gaze averted, focusing on moving smoothly across the floor and not stepping on his toes. That would be embarrassing.
Something stirred her consciousness. He was staring at her, willing her to lift her gaze to his. She could sense it. Strongly. Excitement skittered across her nerve endings like so many pinpricks. She tried to tamp it down, but it was a fruitless effort.
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Donna Clayton
Dr. Sloan Radcliff was the first to admit he didn't know a thing about clothes, makeup–or dating! And although he refused to succumb to the triplets' shameless matchmaking schemes, he was glad they charmed Rachel Richards into helping out. In fact, he felt so grateful toward his lovely office assistant that he had a sudden urge to…kiss her! The brooding widower wasn't at all convinced he could fuldill Rachel's hopes and dreams, but the captivating beauty sure did turn his entire world asunder. Would he ever allow her close enough to resuscitate his lonesome life?
She was too stunning for words.
Her flame-red hair was wild about her shoulders. The new do made her normally pale skin glow and look more beautiful than he’d ever imagined. And her glistening lips were…overwhelmingly kissable.
His mouth went dry at the thought. His gaze seemed to have a mind of its own as it roved down the length of her, over the curve of her tiny waist that flowed right on down into flared hips.
An hourglass. She was a soft, luscious hourglass.
He choked as the startling thought lodged in his throat like some inhaled morsel of food.
Immediately, Rachel was clapping him on the back. “You okay?” she asked.
He was trying to flee. From what, he had no clue. He worked with her in the office every single weekday. But she’d never had this kind of effect on him before….
Dear Reader,
This holiday season, as our anniversary year draws to a close, we have much to celebrate. The talented authors who have published—and continue to publish—unforgettable love stories. You, the readers, who have made our twenty-year milestone possible. And this month’s very special offerings.
First stop: BACHELOR GULCH, Sandra Steffen’s popular ongoing miniseries. They’d shared an amazing night together; now a beguiling stranger was back in his life carrying Sky’s Pride and Joy. She’d dreamed Hunter’s Vow would be the marrying kind…until he learned about their child he’d never known existed—don’t miss this keeper by Susan Meier! Carolyn Zane’s BRUBAKER BRIDES are back! Montana’s Feisty Cowgirl thought she could pass as just another male ranch hand, but Montana wouldn’t rest till he knew her secrets…and made this 100% woman completely his!
Donna Clayton’s SINGLE DOCTOR DADS return…STAT. Rachel and the M.D. were office assistant and employer…so why was she imagining herself this widower’s bride and his triplets’ mother? Diana Whitney brings her adorable STORK EXPRESS series from Special Edition into Romance with the delightful story of what happens when Mixing Business…with Baby. And debut author Belinda Barnes tells the charming tale of a jilted groom who finds himself all dressed up…to deliver a pregnant beauty’s baby—don’t miss His Special Delivery!
Thank you for celebrating our 20th anniversary. In 2001 we’ll have even more excitement—the return of ROYALLY WED and Marie Ferrarella’s 100th book, to name a couple!
Happy reading!
Mary-Theresa Hussey
Senior Editor
Rachel and the M.D.
Donna Clayton
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This book is dedicated, in loving memory, to Louise Anderson
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* (#litres_trial_promo)Miss Maxwell Becomes a Mom #1211
* (#litres_trial_promo)Nanny in the Nick of Time #1217
* (#litres_trial_promo)Beauty and the Bachelor Dad #1223
† (#litres_trial_promo)The Stand-By Significant Other #1284
† (#litres_trial_promo)Who’s the Father of Jenny’s Baby? #1302
The Boss and the Beauty #1342
His Ten-Year-Old Secret #1373
Her Dream Come True #1399
Adopted Dad #1417
His Wild Young Bride #1441
** (#litres_trial_promo)The Nanny Proposal #1477
** (#litres_trial_promo)The Doctor’s Medicine Woman #1483
** (#litres_trial_promo)Rachel and the M.D. #1489
DONNA CLAYTON
is proud to be a recipient of the Holt Medallion, an award honoring outstanding literary talent, for her Silhouette Romance novel Wife for a While. And seeing her work appear on the Waldenbooks Series Bestsellers list has given her a great deal of joy and satisfaction.
Reading is one of Donna’s favorite ways to wile away a rainy afternoon. She loves to hike, too. Another hobby added to her list of fun things to do is traveling. She fell in love with Europe during her first trip abroad and plans to return often. Oh, and Donna still collects cookbooks, but as her writing career grows, she finds herself using them less and less.
Donna loves to hear from her readers. Please write to her care of Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017.
Contents
Chapter One (#u435a9f20-fdca-5c3b-ae38-ab0abb4ab3fd)
Chapter Two (#ue4f36022-57ee-5d37-89bb-3bc37694dd62)
Chapter Three (#u6608cac3-6595-56bc-98e0-3c01df78f21d)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
There’s a look that narrows the eyes of a nearly teen adolescent—a look reflecting stubbornness-bordering-on-rebellion—that strikes terror in the heart of any normal parent. And Sloan Radcliff was receiving that very look from not one, but three pairs of eyes. The defiant expressions he confronted belonged to his daughters, his twelve-year-old triplet terrors.
Sloan tamped down the myriad of emotions creating chaos in his head and focused on keeping his voice calm, his nerves steely.
“Girls,” he quietly began. The experience of being a single parent for the last two years had taught him that, when dealing with his children’s obstinacy, a tranquil tone never really helped very much. However, he was the mature, sane adult here and he did want to act in a manner befitting that fact. For as long as he could possibly hold out, anyway.
“You know the rules,” he continued. “Nine o’clock. That’s curfew. You’re twelve years old. It’s not an unreasonable request.”
“Sez who?”
Oh, Lord. Sydney, the most quick-tempered of his three daughters, was already becoming bluntly out-spoken. He chose to ignore the fact that her short question was laced around the edges with insolence.
“Daddy,” Sasha whined pitifully, “this is going to be the party of the year. All the coolest kids will be there. We have to go. We just have to. If we don’t, we’ll be labeled as geek.” Her eyes were wide, her forehead furrowed, her arms gesturing wildly. All indications that if this classification were to take place, her entire existence would be ruined for all eternity.
Sloan’s brows rose a fraction. Not because Sasha was being overly dramatic—that was her trademark—but it was awfully early in the dispute for her to start displaying her well-oiled thespian skills. This New Year’s Eve get-together must be more important to his daughters than he’d first realized.
Glancing over at Sophie, the third of his lovely, lively daughters, he wasn’t surprised to see her arms crossed tightly over her rib cage, her mouth pressed together in a firm line.
With their long, straight brown hair and their nut-brown eyes, his girls might look like peas in a pod, but their characters—the methods they used to cope with everything from joy and success to anger, disappointment and stress—were as different as the snowflakes that now fell from the wintry, late December sky.
“Look, Dad,” Sydney piped up, “we’ve been asking you about this party for a month. Now it’s time to go shopping for dresses and shoes and stuff. We’re down to the wire. We need an answer. Now.”
“Shopping?” he asked. “But all three of you just received new clothes for Christmas—”
Sasha’s wide-eyed look of horror cut his protest off in midstream.
“You can’t expect us to wear those things,” Sasha said. “We got jeans and sweaters. Knock-around clothes. We need gowns.”
“Yes,” Sydney agreed with her sister. “We need long, elegant dresses. Everyone there will be wearing them.”
Seeing a means of lightening the mood, Sloan allowed exaggerated skepticism to tug at one corner of his mouth as he teased, “The boys are going to look pretty silly in—”
“Dad,” both Sydney and Sasha chimed. They shook their head in disgust.
“Our girl friends,” Sydney supplied. “You knew what we meant.”
“We need an answer,” Sasha pressed him. “The party is just four days away. Are you gonna let us go?”
He’d put off his girls as long as he could. He needed to make a decision. Let them go to the party? Or protect them, and at the same time, disappoint them terribly?
During times like this, he really hated being a single dad. With both sets of his daughters’ grandparents deceased, and him with no siblings, Sloan had no one to talk these things over with. He felt…lonely. Lost. And terribly unsure. He never knew for certain whether or not he was making the right choice. He needed more time.
“Girls, you can’t just come traipsing into my office, demanding—”
“All your patients are gone, Dad,” Sydney said. “The waiting room is empty.”
“It’s time for you to go home.” Sasha plunked her hand on her hip. “Besides, you were expecting us. Remember? You asked Annie’s mom to drop us off here.”
Of course Sloan remembered the girls had spent the day with a friend. He’d just been hedging for time.
“Sure, I remember,” he said jovially. He stood and pulled off his white lab coat. “How about if we stop off on the way home and pick up some burgers and fries for dinner? We’ll go to your favorite place.”
Three pairs of eyes glowered at him.
“We won’t let you change the subject, Dad.” Now Sydney, too, had her hands on her hips, her elbows cocked at wide angles.
“We want to go to the party!” Sasha said.
Sophie only nodded tightly, her gaze silently reflecting all the anxiety she was feeling.
Sloan sighed. He felt damned tired. He sat down, rubbed his palms up and down his thighs.
“Okay,” he said, “you can go to the party—”
“Whooo-hoo,” Sydney shouted.
“Yes!” Sasha threw her hands into the air and performed a joyful little jig.
Even Sophie smiled, the tension in her shoulders visibly melting away.
The girls began chattering to one another all at once.
“I’m going to get that black strapless dress I saw in the mall—”
“I’m wearing that electric-blue one with the slits up both sides—”
“I need panty hose and I want those strappy platform sandals—”
“And let’s not forget to go to the drugstore for makeup. I saw a tube of red lipstick I’ve just gotta have—”
Strapless dress? Electric-blue slits? Panty hose? Platform sandals? Red lipstick?
Sloan didn’t think so. Not while he still had breath in his body.
“Hold it!”
His daughters turned to face him, their excitement suddenly dimmed by his rare show of anger.
“I wasn’t finished,” he continued, not bothering to remove the edginess from his tone. “You can go to the party. But you can’t stay out until two o’clock in the morning.”
“But, Dad—” Sasha lamented.
“Oh, no—” the two little words Sydney emitted sounded like a groan from a horribly wounded animal “—he’s going to embarrass us. He’s going to ruin everything. Everyone will be looking at us. He’s going to make us leave early.”
She made the idea of premature departure sound like some sort of disfiguring disease. He wanted to point out just what kind of attention twelve-year-olds wearing revealing dresses and red lipstick would attract, but he chomped down firmly on his tongue and kept the thoughts to himself.
Sophie quietly pointed out. “Dad, Debbie’s mother rented a hall.”
Sloan shrugged. “I don’t care if Debbie’s mother rented Veterans’ Stadium. My daughters will not be out until the wee hours of the morning. You girls are twelve years old—”
Sydney’s chin rose, as did her voice, when she pointed out, “But I’ll be thirteen in three weeks.”
“Me, too,” Sasha said.
Through her tight jaw, Sophie added, “Me, three.”
This was their motto. Their united credo.
Rebellion glinted in their gazes now, bold and unmistakable.
Holding his ground, Sloan refused to be intimidated. “I don’t care if you’re going to be thirty-five. No daughter of mine is going to be out gallivanting in the middle of the night. You can celebrate the New Year, and I’ll be picking you up at twelve-thirty. And that’s final.”
Sasha’s bottom lip began to tremble, piteous tears welling in her big brown eyes.
“But Debbie’s mom is serving breakfast at one,” Sydney informed him. “And she’s making my favorite. Pancakes.”
“I’ll be happy to make pancakes just as soon as we get home from the party,” Sloan offered. But his words were firm, uncontestable.
The air grew tense and thick, and Sloan got the strange sense that something awful was about to happen.
Fate didn’t disappoint him.
Sophie—the quietest of his daughters—straightened her spine and squared her shoulders. She looked her father directly in the eye and proclaimed, “Well, I’m staying until the end of the party. I’m not going to let you ruin my first date with Bobby Snyders.”
Date? Had his little girl just said she had a date? With a boy?
Rachel Richards loved her job. She managed the medical practice of partners Sloan Radcliff, Travis Westcott and Greg Hamilton. The three men were more than doctors sharing a practice, they were friends who supported one another. Since she had no close relatives to speak of, the family-like atmosphere of the office was one of the reasons she so liked working there.
There were other reasons as well. Sloan and his daughters made up a big part of those reasons.
The seemingly never-ending pile of patient insurance forms had been a convenient excuse for her to remain at the office after hours, but the truth was she knew the triplets had planned to confront their father today about the party and she wanted to be nearby…just in case.
She’d loved those girls ever since her best friend Olivia, Sloan’s wife, had given birth to them. And Rachel had done everything she could to nurture them during the two years since Olivia had passed away.
The triplets shouldn’t gang up on their father the way they were doing this afternoon. Rachel had seen a lot of that kind of behavior lately. The girls acted like a pack of wild dogs, nipping and yelping from all sides, until Sloan caved in to their demands. And it seemed that, as the girls got older, the more crafty they became. Today they were showing just how they had perfected this “pack hunting” technique.
Rachel had remained at the office in order to dry their tears and smooth their ruffled feathers should Sloan refuse to allow them to attend the New Year’s Eve party. But as soon as she overheard the word date, she knew it was Sloan who was in urgent need of her support.
And if there was anything she could do for Sloan…Her heart raced. Anything at all…
With insurance papers still in one hand, a pen in the other, Rachel hurried into Sloan’s office.
His handsome face was ghostly pale when she entered the room. And his sensual mouth—the one that so often intruded on her dreams in the deepest, most vulnerable part of the night—was gaping as he so obviously searched for something to say.
Empathy for his plight welled up inside Rachel. She knew he agonized over his parenting responsibilities. Not that he bent her ear or leaned on her shoulder—she only wished he would. However, she knew he relied heavily on his friends and partners, Greg Hamilton and Travis Westcott.
Being a single, childless woman, Rachel really hadn’t a clue how to fix this problem between Sloan and his daughters. But she had to try. She simply had to.
Plastering a bright smile onto her face, she rustled up her courage and said, “Sounds like a little compromise is in order here.”
Four pairs of eyes turned to look at her. Focusing on Sloan’s chocolate-brown ones would be a mistake, she knew. Her tongue would tie up in knots. So she directed her attention to the girls, letting her gaze bounce from one to the next.
“It’s clear that your dad wants to let you go to the party,” she told them. “I overheard him say as much. But all three of you are going to have to be willing to make a few concessions where wardrobe and…and…a few other things are concerned.”
“Kids are always the ones who have to make concessions,” Sydney muttered.
“Well,” Rachel said smoothly, “nobody ever said that life is fair.”
After only a second or two, Rachel continued, “That party invitation you showed me stated that this shindig is semiformal.”
“Yes.” Sasha’s eyes brightened, evidently seeing Rachel as some sort of co-conspirator who had arrived to save the day. “That’s what we tried to explain to Dad. That we’d all need long gowns.”
“Honey, I hate to break this to you—” Rachel’s head tilted gently “—but semiformal does not mean fancy evening dresses.”
“Doesn’t mean strapless gowns or electric-blue slits, either,” Sloan murmured under his breath.
Rachel suppressed the small smile tugging at her mouth, but the obvious appreciation she read in his brown gaze made her breath hitch in her throat.
“How about,” she offered, forcing herself to focus on the girls once again, “if I take the three of you shopping? We’ll buy nice, tasteful dresses that your father will approve of.”
“B-but all the girls are wearing—”
“Trust me on this, Sydney,” Rachel said firmly.
“What about makeup?” Sasha looked sulky, her bottom lip protruding.
Rachel reached out and touched the girl’s cheek with her fingertips. “You’re so beautiful you don’t need makeup. But maybe your dad will agree to a little lightly tinted lip gloss. That’ll accentuate your cute mouth without too much garish color. What do you say, Sloan?”
Again, the gratitude in his intense eyes made her feel as if all the air in the room had condensed. He smiled at her. Blood thrummed through her body.
And then that familiar guilt descended on her like a thick, heavy layer of wet wool. It congealed in her chest and she fought to swallow a nervous cough.
“I think I could live with that.” Sloan nodded, evidently not noticing the chaos coursing through her.
Sophie stepped toward Rachel. “But what about having to leave the party early? We can’t—”
“Don’t push it, Sophie,” Rachel softly warned, narrowing her eyes in a manner that conveyed the same gentle but firm message. “We don’t even know if that’s negotiable. We’ll let your dad think about it. Then he can let you know.”
She addressed all three girls, “Go get into your coats. I’ll meet you in the waiting area.”
Once the two of them were alone, Sloan said, “I really appreciate this, Rachel.”
The richness of his voice nearly made her toes curl with pleasure.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” she told him. Had someone been fiddling with the thermostat? she wondered. It sure was hot in this office. “I’m happy to take the girls to the mall.”
He pulled out his wallet and handed her some money. “This is for dinner. That band of raving rebels will be hungry before long.” Affection candy-coated his words. Then he paused, sudden indecision shadowing his gaze. “Should I be going along with you?”
“Nah.” A tiny smile twisted one corner of her mouth. “We’ll probably end up shopping at half a dozen different stores before we’re through. It would be very boring for you.”
“Well, put the dresses on your charge account and I’ll pay the bill when it arrives.”
She nodded. “Fair enough.” This part was routine. She’d taken the girls shopping for clothing many times. Then she told him, “I’ll have them home before nine.”
“Drive safe,” he said, glancing out the window. “The snow has thinned, but it’s still coming down out there.”
Rachel would have loved to think his words of warning were because he was worried about her safety. But she knew his daughters were the precious cargo at the forefront of his mind, as they should be.
“The roads have been salted.”
However, before the words had even left her mouth, Sloan had already turned his attention to the patient file sitting open on his desk. So she left his office and strolled down the hallway toward the sounds of the girls’ excited chatter.
She really was happy to have the opportunity to help Sloan and his daughters. Terribly happy. She just wished she would stop being engulfed by this wave of tremendous guilt—a wave that threatened to drown her each and every time she and Sloan were together.
Oh, she knew what caused this awful, dark emotion. Knew it just as well as she knew her own name.
The guilt was her conscience. An inner voice that constantly told her she had no right—no right, whatsoever—to have fallen in love with her best friend’s husband.
“Rachel, can I ask you a question?”
The snow blanketing the city wasn’t all that thick, but it was substantial enough to muffle the city sounds from outside. And the interior of the car seemed quieter, too.
“Sure, Sophie.” Rachel glanced into the rearview mirror, but couldn’t make out the child’s face. “Ask me anything.”
“Well…w-what…” Sophie paused, then tried again. “What does it feel like…you know…to kiss a boy?”
Rachel’s brows rose. She’d fully expected to hear complaints about Sloan’s stubbornness, about what the girls surely labeled their father’s overprotective nature. It hadn’t dawned on her that Sophie’s question would deal with relationships. Wow, this conversation just might lead to a discussion about the birds and the bees.
However, rather than being distressed by the prospect, Rachel felt honored. Sophie’s question let Rachel know the girls felt comfortable with her. Comfortable to talk about anything. Even kissing boys.
Before she could answer, Sydney giggled at her sister’s query. But Sasha’s tone was awestruck as she asked Sophie, “Do you really think Bobby will kiss you at the party?”
Rachel sensed Sophie’s shrug.
“Well, it’s New Year’s Eve,” Sophie began slowly. “People always hug and kiss to celebrate the coming in of the new year, right?”
Sasha’s voice became even more breathless. “You’re right. They do.”
Sydney’s laughter quickly died, and she, too, seemed overwhelmed by the prospect that her sister might experience her first real, honest-to-goodness kiss in just four short days.
The air felt all shivery with apprehension.
“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” Rachel said softly. “It’s nice. Being kissed, I mean. When your lips touch, it’ll feel…nice. Warm. But the biggest reaction you’ll have is inside. Your stomach will become jumpy. Jittery. Giddy. You’ll feel light-headed, and your knees will get weak.”
Where on earth was this description coming from? Rachel wondered. She hadn’t been kissed in so long…she couldn’t even remember how long it had been! Where did she get off telling the triplets what to expect?
“Ick!” Sydney said. “Sounds like flu symptoms to me.”
Rachel didn’t have time to chuckle before Sasha’s serious tone cut in, “You’ll have to make sure you brush your teeth, Sophie. You wouldn’t want to smell like those cocktail wienies that Debbie said her mom is going to serve as snacks.”
Sydney absently played with her zipper, the metal teeth grinding as the coat was anxiously fastened and unfastened. “And you know how Debbie’s mom thinks she’s a gourmet cook. She puts garlic in everything.”
“Gosh,” Sophie said, “I won’t be able to eat all night.”
“Sure you will.” Rachel pulled the car to a halt at a stop sign and looked for oncoming traffic. “Just keep a stick of gum or a breath mint handy, and pop it into your mouth a few minutes before the count-down begins.”
Sophie’s voice was tight as she declared, “I’ll just die of embarrassment if Dad makes us leave the party too early.”
Rachel sensed rather than saw the other two girls nod in silent agreement.
“Why is Dad so uptight, anyway?” Sydney asked.
“Doesn’t he know that curfews are…jeez, well, that they’re so old-fashioned?” Sasha added.
Rachel suppressed a sigh. “He loves you,” she told the girls. “He’s only trying to be the best dad he can be. And as for curfews being old-fashioned—” she couldn’t keep the humor out of her voice “—I want to hear you tell me that again once you’re raising children of your own.”
“Oh, I would never tell my kids when they have to come in.”
Laughter actually bubbled up from Rachel’s throat, and she had trouble quelling it. She found the utter sincerity in Sydney’s tone comical, although she knew the child really thought she meant what she was saying.
“And I would never make them leave a party early.”
Sophie’s sullen countenance made Rachel sigh. “Look, guys. You’re going to the party. You’d better be willing to compromise about when you come home.”
“We are going to the party,” Sasha agreed with Rachel, pointing out the fact to her siblings. “And we get to pick out new dresses, too.”
The parking lot of the mall was nearly deserted on this snowy night.
“I say we have some dinner,” Rachel said as she turned off the engine of her car. “Then we’ll hit the stores.”
“Look, Rachel won’t be gone for long,” Sydney told her sisters in the restaurant. “She’ll be back from the ladies’ room before we know it…so listen up, we need to talk.”
“About what?” Sasha asked, dipping a French fry in ketchup and nibbling the end. “This curfew thing?”
Sophie looked interested.
“Not just the curfew,” Sydney said. “But Dad in general. He’s so protective. It’s weirding me out.”
“Me, too,” Sasha agreed.
Sophie automatically whispered, “Me, three,” the onion ring she held in her fingers for the moment forgotten.
“We’ve gotta do something,” Sydney declared. “And we’ve gotta do it now. Or he’s going to ruin our lives. We’re going to be teenagers next month.”
The other sisters nodded, all three growing silent as they pondered. Any passerby would have gotten the impression that the girls were contemplating paradise.
“We need to find some way to get him to stop pestering us about where we’re going and who we’re with and when we’ll be home.”
Sasha’s mouth curled up derisively. “This is Dad we’re talking about. That’s never going to happen.”
Insulted, Sydney shot back, “It could happen. All we need is a plan.”
“What we need,” Sophie said, “is to present Dad with something other than us to concentrate on.”
“His patients have always taken up a lot of his time.” Another French fry disappeared between Sasha’s lips.
“It’s not nice to hope people get sick.” Sophie dropped the onion ring and wiped her fingers on a napkin.
“I’d never do that.” Sasha looked aggrieved. “I was just sayin’—”
“What we need,” Sydney said, “is a diversion for Dad.”
“Hey!” Sophie’s dark eyes lit up. “Remember when Dr. Greg hired that nanny a couple months ago? Miss Jane turned his life upside down.”
“We’re too old for a nanny,” Sydney said.
“Jeez, Sydney, you’re so infantile.” Sophie rolled her eyes. “I’m not talking about a nanny for us. I’m talking about a nanny for Dad.”
Her sisters looked at her as if they thought she had lost her marbles.
Again she rolled her eyes. “A woman…for Dad.”
“Eeewww!” Sasha’s face scrunched up tight. “What woman would want Dad? He’s old.”
“Wow, Sophie,” Sydney breathed, “you’re a genius. I remember Dr. Greg called Dad and Dr. Travis and asked them to come into the office for those emergency meetings of theirs lots of times. All about Miss Jane.”
Sophie looked more sure of herself. “And come to think of it, Dr. Travis is pretty shook up over having Miss Diana came to live with him, too.” She took a moment to ponder.
“How are we going to get a woman to come live with us?” Sasha was clearly baffled.
“We don’t really need to have some woman in our house…do we?” Trepidation weighed heavy in Sydney’s voice.
Sophie shook her head. “All we need is a distraction. Something that will take Dad’s focus off us. Like Miss Jane captured Dr. Greg’s attention. And Miss Diana has Dr. Travis’s. We need for Dad to get all worked up. Just like Dr. Greg and Dr. Travis. We need Dad to get so upset that he’ll call special meetings and stuff.” Her brow furrowed suddenly. “Wonder why men can’t work out their woman troubles by themselves?”
“That’s what we need!” Sydney said. “Or rather, that’s what Dad needs. Woman troubles.”
“Okay,” Sasha agreed, “but we’re right back to where we were before. Where are we going to find a woman who would be the least bit interested in our father?” Again, her face screwed up as if the mere idea was downright repulsive.
“Lots of kids at school have parents who are divorced,” Sophie said.
Sasha blurted, “Hey, Debbie’s mom is single.”
“Don’t even go there!” Sydney shivered. “Could you imagine Dad hooked up with Debbie’s mom? That woman is too snobby for her own good.”
“I’m with you,” Sophie said. “I don’t mind going to Debbie’s party, but I don’t want her to be my step-sister.”
“Jeez,” Sasha said, anxiety lighting her eyes, “you never said this woman-trouble thing would turn into anything permanent. I don’t know…” She was obviously having some serious second thoughts.
“Hey,” Sophie said, “I don’t want Dad to get married…or…or even have a steady girlfriend any more than you do. But if we’re going to have any fun during our teenage years, we’ve gotta do something!”
Sydney spoke again, “And if there’s any chance of Dad gettin’ married, I sure don’t want to be related to any of the kids from school. Talk about weird.”
All three were silent as they thought about their dilemma.
Finally, Sasha said, “Well, I hate to keep bringing this up, but we still haven’t solved the problem of finding a woman.”
Just then Rachel arrived back at the table.
The clear and obvious solution smacked all three of the girls in the face at the same instant. Their eyes widened as they looked at one another.
And then they burst into gales of giggles.
Rachel cocked her head to one side. “What scheme are you girls hatching now?” she asked.
The girls laughed all the harder.
“I’m so glad you saved me a few of those onion rings,” Rachel said, swiping one from the plate and popping it into her mouth. Then she slid into the booth next to Sophie, like an innocent lamb strolling into a butcher’s shop.
Chapter Two
Something odd was going on. The girls’ behavior was…fishy. They seemed to be arguing among themselves, Rachel thought. However, their voices never rose above a hushed whisper and they seemed to engage in this secret battle only when they went into the dressing rooms to try on outfits. And every time Rachel was stirred to intervene and probe the problem, they would smile up at her innocently and make some remark that led her to believe that they were deliriously happy with their siblings and all was right with the world.
Yes, something was definitely fishy.
In the department store, Rachel had slipped into the fitting area with a lovely dress made of a fabric she thought Sydney would love. As she stood on one side of the curtain, Sophie and Sydney on the other, Rachel overheard Sophie snap, “I will not let you ruin my evening.”
To which Sydney had replied, “But this was your idea!”
Rachel had no clue what Sydney had suggested that might spoil their shopping trip at the mall, and she hadn’t a chance to hear another word as Sasha rushed into the fitting area behind her, loudly calling Rachel’s name and proclaiming how much she adored the dress Rachel had chosen for Sydney.
Luckily, whatever hullabaloo had been brewing between the triplets eventually subsided and died away completely. Or seemed to, at least. And two and a half hours after arriving at the mall, having visited only one major department store and three apparel shops, the girls were outfitted for the party.
“These after-Christmas sales are great,” Rachel said, smiling through her fatigue. “Your dad is going to be quite pleased when he learns how much money we saved.”
Judging from the girls’ lukewarm reactions, Rachel came to the conclusion that frugality wasn’t in their adolescent dictionary.
“What do you say we stop at the food court for an ice cream before we head home?” she asked them.
Their reactions to this suggestion weren’t the least bit hesitant or halfhearted. Rachel just shook her head and laughed.
Once the four of them were seated, each feasting on a mound of ice cream smothered in various toppings, Sydney said, “Rachel, would you consider coming to the party with us?”
Her spoon had been poised midway between her dish and her mouth, but Rachel forgot all about luscious fudge sauce, so surprised was she by the question.
Sasha piped up, “Oh, you wouldn’t be coming as a guest. You’d be a chaperone.”
“I see.”
Was that hesitation Rachel saw in Sophie’s expression? But when next she looked, the child’s face was filled with a smile, even if it was tight-lipped.
Sophie said, “Debbie’s mother asked last week if some of the parents could come to help out, but…w-well…we didn’t really want—”
Rachel smiled. “I understand. When you’re twelve years old, adult supervision is the last thing you want.”
She slipped the fudge-encrusted spoon between her lips and rolled the chocolate around in her mouth. After she swallowed, she asked, “But don’t you think you ought to talk to your dad about this? His feelings might be hurt if you don’t give him the opportunity to attend the party.” She hastily added, “As a chaperone, of course.”
The triplets looked at each other, and Rachel got the distinct impression that they were actually communicating by some sort of mental telepathy. It was silly, really, but then again, she’d read that identical siblings often had a special bond.
Finally, Sydney said, “Would you go?” She averted her gaze and added, “You know, if Dad says it’s okay?”
Rachel looked down at her dish of ice cream, swirled her spoon in the whipped cream and nudged at the cherry as she dealt with the sudden emotion welling inside her.
Warmth filled her heart, and unexpected tears blurred her vision. The love she felt for these children was overwhelming at times. Here they were, getting ready to go to their first semiformal party, one of them even contemplating experiencing her very first kiss, and they were asking her to be a part of their special evening.
Memories bombarded Rachel. In the blink of an eye, she was standing beside her best friend’s hospital bed, promising Olivia that she’d watch out for the girls. That she’d help to nurture them. That she’d do all she could to see to it that they grew into intelligent, well-rounded, happy individuals.
Olivia wasn’t here to attend the triplets’ first fancy party. Olivia couldn’t snap any pictures of them all dressed up for the evening. Olivia couldn’t give them advice about boys, or buy them pretty dresses, or act as a chaperone.
So Rachel would step forward and do all of these things.
“What’s wrong?” Sophie asked, a frown biting deeply into her young brow.
“Why are you upset?” Sasha put her spoon down and stared at Rachel with worry in her gaze.
“I’m fine,” Rachel assured them softly. “I was just thinking…”
She let the rest of her words trail off. The girls didn’t need to be reminded of sad memories of their mother and what she and they were missing. No, this should be a joyful time for them.
“I was just thinking how happy I am that you asked me to go with you.” She grinned at them. “I’d love to chaperone the party.”
“Great!” Sydney said. “Now maybe Dad will let us stay out later than twelve-thirty.”
Ah, Rachel thought, so the curfew had been what motivated them to invite her along. Leave it to practical, outspoken Sydney to burst Rachel’s heartwarming fantasy of playing mommy.
But Rachel didn’t feel hurt. She smiled, catching the eye of each one of them. The girls had no idea of the depth of her love for them, she was certain. She might not be their mother, she might not have given birth to them, but she sure did love them bunches and bunches. Like any mother loved her children.
Scooping up another spoonful of ice cream slathered with fudge sauce, Rachel said, “I can’t promise you that your curfew will be any later. But I can promise you that I’ll be at that party. With bells on!”
Sydney, Sophie and Sasha looked satisfied. Almost too satisfied.
Sloan looked in the mirror and straightened his tie. He was feeling pretty awkward about the New Year’s Eve party he was about to chaperone for his daughters.
On the one hand, his heart felt all warm and mushy from his having been asked to attend. His emotions might have been categorized as something less than masculine by any male who wasn’t a father. But he was sure dads all over the world would understand perfectly what he was going through. When the girls had approached him about chaperoning, their eyes had looked everywhere but at him, and their voices had been hesitant. They’d been as cute as little ladybugs. There had been no way he could have refused them.
But on the other hand, he’d be lying if he said he was really looking forward to this event.
His daughters would be laughing and gossiping, as girls their age were wont to do. However, they’d also be interacting with their friends. With boys. That idea just didn’t sit well with him.
He wasn’t a total idiot. He knew his girls had to grow up. But did they have to do it now?
Couldn’t they wait? Like…a dozen or so years? Maybe then he’d be ready for this stage in their lives. As it was now, he wasn’t prepared at all.
Then another question floated through his brain: was any father ever ready for his little girls to grow up? He seriously doubted it.
Scowling at his image in the mirror, he murmured, “Growing up, indeed.”
His daughters were only twelve. They were too young for parties that would keep them out after their curfew. They were too young to be dancing with boys. Flirting with boys. Kissing boys—
He snapped off the thought as surely and as thoroughly as if it had been a lightbulb. He didn’t mind plunging his brain into total darkness. Anything was better than continuing along this line of panic-inducing ponderings. If he didn’t shut these thoughts down, he’d change his mind altogether and make Sydney, Sasha and Sophie ring in the New Year right here at home. And they’d never forgive him for that. Never.
So…how bad could the evening be? he wondered. He would be present at the party to watch all the goings-on. And when it came to his girls, he had the eye of an eagle.
The doorbell rang and Sloan grumbled under his breath. His daughters had probably offered one of their friends a lift to the party and had forgotten to tell him about it. He didn’t mind. He only wished they would keep him apprised of the plans they made, then revamped, then revised yet again.
“Girls,” he called down the hallway toward their rooms, “I’m going down to answer the door. You’d better hurry it up. It’ll be time to go soon.”
Sounds of frantic scrambling and panicked shrieks made him smile. One thing about his daughters, they could have five full hours to get themselves ready, and still they’d need more time.
He was still chuckling when he reached the front door and pulled it open. The sight he beheld made the grin on his face freeze as if his mouth had suddenly turned to solid concrete.
It was…it was…
Rachel smiled a silent greeting, stepped inside, closed the door behind her and then let her dress coat slide from her shoulders.
Thoughts refused to form coherently. Hell, they refused to form at all. It was as if his brain had completely shut down.
He took a deep breath. Forced himself to swallow. And blink, once, then again.
She looked too stunning for words.
Her flame-red hair—usually tamed by some sort of elastic band or hair clip when she was at the office—was wild about her shoulders, making for a very sultry look. This new do made her normally pale skin glow and look more delicate, more beautiful than he’d ever seen it.
At work, Rachel looked like any typical woman. However, tonight she’d done something to accentuate her brown eyes. He’d never realized before that her irises were flecked with a warm gold color that reminded him of heated honey. And her mouth. The bow was…utterly perfect. And he’d never seen her full bottom lip glisten so. The effect was…overwhelmingly kissable.
His mouth went dry at the thought, and he knew he should be ashamed of himself. But his mind was too busy with other things to take the time to do any silent berating.
Her black cocktail dress was shot through with silver threads, the fabric following the contours of her slender body. His gaze seemed to have a mind of its own as it roved down the length of her, over the swell of her breasts, the curve of her tiny waist that flowed right on down into flared hips.
An hourglass. She was a soft, luscious hourglass.
He choked as the startling thought lodged in his throat like some inhaled morsel of food.
Immediately, Rachel was clapping him on the back.
“You okay?” she asked, following him as he retreated into the living room.
If the truth were known, he was trying to flee. From what, he had no clue. But she stuck with him, following on those long, black-stocking-clad legs. She raised graceful, milky arms, and with her petite hands began slapping him soundly between the shoulder blades.
Aren’t you cold? he wanted to ask. Didn’t she know it was winter? Where were the sleeves of her dress? He’d never seen Rachel display so much…skin.
He worked with her in the office every single weekday. However, it was office policy that the employees wore colorful smocks over their attire. The nurses and office staff had a different color smock for every day of the week. He’d never realized just how shapeless those uniforms were. Before this moment, he’d never even realized that Rachel had a body.
Well, of course he’d known she’d had a body. He was a doctor, for goodness sake. But he never realized what a body she had!
Oh, hell.
Get a grip, he silently commanded himself. What on earth was the matter with him?
He needed to put a bit of space between them, that was all. He’d anticipated opening the door to one of his daughters’ friends. He hadn’t expected to see Rachel standing there at all. Her appearance had startled him.
Startled him? She’d shocked clear thinking right out of his brain. Like a solid whack with a sledgehammer right between the eyeballs.
“I’m fine,” he told her, ducking to the left. “I’m okay.”
As soon as he spoke, she stopped, and he continued on several paces just to give himself a little distance. Once he reached the couch, he paused to catch his breath, gather his wits. Only then did he turn to face her.
“You sure you’re okay?”
The concern in her golden-bronze gaze affected him mightily. Usually, her interest was focused on his children. Rachel was their godmother. And she’d gone out of her way, especially since Olivia’s death, to see that his girls were well-cared for. But recently she seemed more attached to his family than ever.
No, he silently answered her question. I’m not at all sure that I’m okay.
However, what he said was, “Sure. I’m fine. Just got a little choked up is all. I’m okay now. Really.”
The entire time his mouth was uttering the words, he had to fight with his eyes to keep them focused on Rachel’s face. His gaze kept wanting to slide down the length of her body, to get one more glimpse of those sinfully long and shapely legs of hers. Sometime during the last few frantic seconds, his subconscious must have noticed that the hem of her sexy little cocktail dress ended at midthigh. The urge to gape, stare, ogle, was pretty darned near overwhelming. He couldn’t fathom what had gotten into him.
She sure did look like a million bucks. Certainly, to have realized that fact—obviously so, he was afraid—and not to comment on it would seem more than a little odd. So, tugging absently at the lapels of his jacket, he said, “Y-you, ah, you look great.”
“So do you.”
For the first time, he vaguely recognized that her gaze was clouded with what looked like confusion. A tiny crease marred the delicate skin between her eyes. However, he was still fighting off the strange effect her appearance had had on him, and that took so much effort that he didn’t really have it in him to wonder too awfully much about what she might find bewildering.
“You obviously have plans tonight.” As soon as he uttered the words, he was struck by the strangest feeling. An odd heaviness sat on his chest like a cement block.
“I was about to say the same thing to you.”
Was that accusation he heard in her tone? he wondered. This whole situation had him feeling odd. Just a little off-kilter.
When he didn’t answer, she said, “I’m going to the New Year’s Eve party with the girls. They asked if I would help Debbie’s mother by acting as a chaperone. And I agreed. I’m here to pick up the girls. Are they ready?” Then her head tilted and she asked, “They didn’t tell you?”
Immediately upon hearing that Rachel would be attending the same party as he, the bizarre heaviness seemed to evaporate. What took its place was a curious lightness that wafted around him like sweet, candy-scented air. But he no more understood this sugary feeling than he did the other emotions that had reached up out of nowhere to grab at him.
What was wrong with his central nervous system? Was he coming down with a cold?
“No,” he told her, feeling preoccupied with the emotions churning inside him. “The girls never said a word.” He felt his brow furrow with uncertainty. Why hadn’t the girls let him know they had asked Rachel to go to the party?
Kids. Would they ever become responsible for their actions?
Now, Rachel looked as if she felt awkward.
“Y-you,” she stammered hesitantly, “look as if you have plans for the evening. Are you going out?”
Then he chuckled, nodding ironically. “I’m going to the party, too.”
The glow he had noticed seemed to fade and Rachel’s face suddenly took on an ashen shade.
“You are?”
“Uh-huh,” he told her softly. “I am. They asked me today. I guess the three of them somehow got their signals crossed.”
“But they were all together when…” Rachel’s thought seemed to peter out, and she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter,” she said.
A sudden thought struck him. “Look, since I’m going…there’s really no need for you to be troubled—”
“But, Dad!”
“We want Rachel to go—”
“She’s gotta go, Dad. Debbie’s mom is expecting her help.”
Sloan turned to see his daughters standing at the foot of the stairs.
The first things he noticed were their expressions. Surreptitious. Sly. Even sneaky wouldn’t have been too harsh a word to describe the looks in their eyes. What were they up to?
Before he could give the question the attention it deserved, he noticed their attire. His little girls were beautiful in their party dresses and fancy shoes. Looking all grown-up. Their long, dark hair glistening. His mouth opened, his breath leaving him in a rush.
His daughters were lovely. Lovely enough to make everything else slide into the background of his brain as his heart contracted with love.
Music blared at an earsplitting level. Sloan positioned himself at the very back of the large banquet room in order to save his hearing. He couldn’t believe how elaborate the party decorations were. Mrs. Fox, Debbie’s mother, had gone to great lengths to make her daughter’s New Year’s Eve bash a success.
Colorful helium balloons bobbed from ribbons anchored to every conceivable surface. Streamers were draped from the corners of the room, some of them dangling straight down from the ceiling, making a sort of obstacle course that the kids seemed to love. The tables were covered with cloths that had been sprinkled with shimmering confetti. One long table was weighed down with food and beverages. The dance floor was lit from above with rainbow lighting, and the tunes were being played by a professional disc jockey. A professional DJ for twelve-year-olds?
Yes, quite a bit of money had been paid out for this affair.
Sloan was surprised by the number of children milling around. One group of kids ambled by him, and not one of them even acknowledged him with a look, let alone a verbal greeting. Ah, well, he thought, they were off in their own world. A world that didn’t include chaperones. He chuckled to himself.
He was feeling so…odd. And he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.
Lighthearted. Gleeful, even. The music was deafening, yes, and the pop tunes were definitely not his favorite style. But he’d found himself tapping his toes to the beat a time or two.
However, along with this peculiar breeziness, he also felt a sense of foreboding. He couldn’t help thinking that something was about to happen. Often he was struck by a feeling of premonition. And when he got that feeling, it usually wasn’t long before he received a call from his answering service with a message from a patient who needed him. He hated the idea of being called away from the triplets’ big night out. But if that were to happen, Rachel was here to save the day—or rather, the evening—for the girls.
Yes, something strange was in the air. That was certain. And he was struck by yet another odd sensation—that whatever it was had something to do with Rachel.
The thought of her had him scanning the room. It took no time at all to find her in the crowd. In fact, it was almost as if his subconscious had been keeping tabs on Rachel’s location—and the location of his daughters—ever since the five of them had arrived.
As usual, Rachel had pitched in right away, helping Mrs. Fox with various jobs. She’d laughed with the kids, who didn’t seem to ignore her the way they ignored him. She’d even dragged some of the girls and boys out onto the dance floor when no one had seemed willing to start the party rolling. Her shoulders had shimmied as she’d danced, her fanny swaying to the rhythm of the music. That sight had had him suppressing a smile, and reaching to loosen the collar of his shirt.
Even now, as he thought of it, his toe began to tap lightly, a grin tugging at one corner of his mouth. He could almost feel his blood pressure rising, although Rachel was no longer dancing, but filling up cups with punch for some thirsty adolescents.
Lord, she sure looked good—
“Dr. Radcliff—”
Sloan started, not realizing just how mesmerized he’d become by his surveillance of Rachel—by his surveillance of everyone, he silently and swiftly corrected the thought. It was his job to chaperone, wasn’t it?
“Mrs. Fox,” he said, greeting her with a nod.
“Please call me Virginia. Our daughters have been friends for too long for us to be so formal.”
He smiled. “All right, Virginia. And you can call me Sloan.”
“I’d love to.”
The unexpected sultry quality of her voice made him pause. Then he said, “Great party you’ve put on here. The kids are really enjoying themselves.”
“You think so?”
Anxiety tinged her blue eyes, clouding them a little. Again, he nodded his assurance.
“I came over—”
Her hand slid over his forearm as she spoke, and Sloan was engulfed by the urge to step away from the woman. Even though he didn’t back up an inch, she still moved closer to him, almost as if she sensed his impulse to retreat.
“—to thank you for coming to help,” she purred. Her smile was so warm it could have melted asphalt. He was actually taken aback. He was struck by the thought that Virginia Fox was some kind of Amazon huntress—and he was most definitely the prey. He’d never actually been made to feel like wild game before, caught in the crosshairs. This was a first.
She cast a quick glance over her shoulder and then turned to face him again, whispering, “After the party, do you think you might like to go out—” another covert scan of the room “—and have a drink?”
He did lean away from her now as he tried to control his astonishment.
“Won’t it be awfully late?” The question rolled from his tongue before he could think of anything else to say. “Besides, my girls will need me to…I’ll need to see that they…”
He was flabbergasted by the woman’s suggestion. They both had children that needed tending. How could she think he could leave them home alone in the middle of the night?
She waved away his pitiful excuses. “You can get that secretary of yours—what’s her name? Raquel?—to take care of them for you.” Virginia cast another glance around the party. “She seems nice enough. Competent, even.” The woman’s voice dropped an octave as she added, “If you like the flamboyant type, that is.”
Flamboyant? Rachel?
Sloan wanted to burst out laughing.
Granted, Rachel’s hair was a little wild tonight. But everyone was allowed to let their hair down every now and then, weren’t they? And, yes, that dress…The mere thought of it had him mentally shaking his head in wonder. If the black-and-silver fabric had any sense at all it would be deliriously happy to be snuggling against Rachel’s luscious curves.
He was definitely losing his grip. These sexual thoughts about his office manager were growing more curious and more unrestrained as the evening wore on.
Virginia’s hand slid up his arm, her fingers squeezing his biceps suggestively.
“Come on,” she breathed. “Having a drink together will be fun.”
He’d met Debbie’s mother at school functions a few times, but she’d never approached him in such an intimate manner before. He hated to hurt the woman’s feelings, but he just wasn’t interested—
“Hey, Dad.”
Sloan had never been happier to see anyone in all his born days as he was to see Sophie right now. Rachel was with his daughter, and Sloan seized the opportunity to extricate himself from Virginia’s possessive clutches.
“Hi, honey,” Sloan greeted his daughter. “You having a good time?”
“Yeah.” She cut her eyes up at Mrs. Fox who took a backward step, at least having enough sense to look chagrined. “Thanks for the party, Mrs. F.”
“Why, you’re welcome…which one are you?” She then laughed nervously as she looked at Sloan. “I can never tell your girls apart.”
“I’m Sophie,” his daughter provided.
Her mind obviously on other things, Virginia ignored the child completely, plastered on a smile and commented without much enthusiasm, “Why, look, Raquel brought us some punch. How nice.”
“It’s Rachel,” Sophie automatically corrected. “And the punch is for Dad.”
Rachel smiled apologetically at the woman. Handing the cup to Sloan, she said, “Sophie thought you might be thirsty.”
After a little shuffling that his daughter had seemed to initiate, Sloan found himself standing close to Rachel. Very close.
Rachel looked down at Sophie. “There’s plenty of room. No need to crowd your father.”
“Thanks,” he said. He looked down into the red fruity drink, but the awkwardness of the moment kept him from enjoying a sip.
Then Sophie blurted, “Dad, are you planning to dance tonight?”
He grinned down at her. “Is that an invitation?”
“Ick! No way!” she screeched. Then she let out a snort of laughter. “The kids really would think I’m a geek if I danced with my father. Bobby’s waiting for me.” She smiled up at him. “I thought you might like to ask Rachel.”
What an idea! he thought. He could have hugged Sophie for giving him a great excuse for escaping Virginia—and the perfect justification for holding Rachel in his arms. At that very moment, he realized that was what he’d been wanting to do ever since she’d shown up on his doorstep looking gorgeous.
“Thanks for the suggestion, honey,” he told his daughter. Then he teased, “But…are the chaperones allowed to dance? I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.”
“Just so long as you don’t start acting goofy,” was Sophie’s response.
He chuckled. “I promise to restrain myself.” Then he looked at Rachel, “Would you like to dance?”
Her honey-brown eyes filled with pleasant surprise, and she nodded.
He grinned at her, then turned to Virginia. “Here. Enjoy this while I’m gone.”
Then, leaving the blonde holding his punch cup with her red-painted mouth partly open in disbelief, he led Rachel toward the dance floor.
Chapter Three
Heaven couldn’t be more wonderful than this. Cradled in Sloan’s strong, protective arms, Rachel felt as if she were in paradise. The slow music wrapped around them, enfolded them in the most sensuous rhythm imaginable.
She’d known Sloan for years, so it wasn’t as if they’d never had the opportunity to be close. She was the godmother of his daughters. His deceased wife’s best friend. She’d helped him nurse Olivia until the bitter end. And she worked with him daily as she managed his medical office. She supposed he considered her his friend—although she’d always wanted to be so much more than that. However, being friends meant they celebrated nearly every holiday together. There were birthday hugs and Christmas kisses, quick displays of friendly affection that always took place in the blink of an eye. The number of times that the two of them had slow-danced together could be counted on one of Rachel’s hands.
At Sloan’s wedding—oh-so-many years ago—Rachel had found herself in his arms…and it had been the most awkward moment she’d ever lived through. The circumstances had been tense. For everyone concerned. Rachel could close her eyes right now and easily remember the strain visible on Sloan’s handsome face on the day he had wed Olivia. Rachel’s heart had ached for him, and she’d been furious with Olivia and her conniving ways. No one deserved the treatment she had inflicted on—
Sloan’s hand slid down the length of Rachel’s back, nestling lightly on the curve of her spine, causing her heart to flutter, and knocking her out of the awful reverie of the past. Rachel hated the silly, schoolgirl reaction that overwhelmed her each and every time she was near Sloan. You’d think her physical response to him would have diminished with time, especially since he didn’t seem to be affected by her—attracted to her—in the least. However, the emotions that stirred in her when she was near him hadn’t abated one bit over the years. Not one tiny bit.
Defeating the silly feelings had been impossible. She’d tried hard to do just that. By ignoring them. Mentally stomping on them. Ranting and raving against them when she was all alone in her apartment, among other things. Nothing had worked. Nothing. So she’d simply decided to suffer them in silence.
Again, his fingers played over the small of her back. She was so conscious of his touch. It was rare that she felt his hands on her.
The warmth of his skin through the fabric of her dress made her pulse heat. Her stomach seemed to twist and turn in somersaults, but she did her best to keep her gaze averted, focusing on moving smoothly across the floor and not stepping on his toes. That would be embarrassing.
Something stirred her consciousness. He was staring at her, willing her to lift her gaze to his. She could sense it. Strongly. Excitement skittered across her nerve endings like so many pinpricks. She tried to tamp it down, but it was a fruitless effort.
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Donna Clayton
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: Dr. Sloan Radcliff was the first to admit he didn′t know a thing about clothes, makeup–or dating! And although he refused to succumb to the triplets′ shameless matchmaking schemes, he was glad they charmed Rachel Richards into helping out. In fact, he felt so grateful toward his lovely office assistant that he had a sudden urge to…kiss her! The brooding widower wasn′t at all convinced he could fuldill Rachel′s hopes and dreams, but the captivating beauty sure did turn his entire world asunder. Would he ever allow her close enough to resuscitate his lonesome life?