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Oh, Babies!
SUSAN MEIER


Simultaneously nurturing and sexy, Kristen Devereaux filled a void in Grant Brewster's soul. Not only did the new nanny shower the businessman's triplet babies with kindness, but she also aroused in him emotions he'd thought long buried.Grant suspected his masculine charms were having an effect on Kristen. And he ached to have her for himself. But Grant cherished his family above all, and would do anything to protect them. So what would happen when he learned Kristen's secret–that she wanted to claim the babies for her own?







“Are you okay?”

Kristen asked, peering at Grant curiously.

He cleared his throat. “I’m fine.”

But he wasn’t fine. He knew he wasn’t fine. He was nuts. Stark raving mad.

His gaze securely fastened to hers, Grant wondered what would happen if he kissed her. There was a possibility he’d discover these urges were just his imagination.

But there was also the possibility that she’d taste as sweet as her personality.

“Okay. Then I’m going to my room,” Kristen said.

“Great.”

If he believed he was losing it, now he had to concede he’d already lost it because he had every intention of kissing Kristen. He didn’t know how, he didn’t know when and he wasn’t sure why, but soon nature was going to take over, and he was going to cover her mouth with his.…






Evan: The Baby Bequest

Chas: Bringing Up Babies

Grant: Oh, Babies!


Dear Reader,

March roars in in grand style at Silhouette Romance, as we continue to celebrate twenty years of publishing the best in contemporary category romance fiction. And the new millennium boasts several new miniseries and promotions…such as ROYALLY WED, a three-book spinoff of the cross-line series that concluded last month in Special Edition Arlene James launches the new limited series with A Royal Masquerade, featuring a romance between would-be enemies, in which appearances are definitely deceiving.…

Susan Meier’s adorable BREWSTER BABY BOOM series concludes this month with Oh, Babies! The last Brewster bachelor had best beware—but the warning may be too late! Karen Rose Smith graces the lineup with the story of a very pregnant single mom who finds Just the Man She Needed in her lonesome cowboy boarder whose plans had never included staying. The delightful Terry Essig will touch your heart and tickle your funny bone with The Baby Magnet, in which a hunky single dad discovers his toddler is more of an attraction than him—till he meets a woman who proves his ultimate distraction.

A confirmed bachelor finds himself the solution to the command: Callie, Get Your Groom as Julianna Morris unveils her new miniseries BRIDAL FEVER! And could love be What the Cowboy Prescribes…in Mary Starleigh’s charming debut Romance novel?

Happy Reading!






Mary-Theresa Hussey

Senior Editor




Oh, Babies!

Susan Meier





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Books by Susan Meier

Silhouette Romance

Stand-in Mom #1022

Temporarily Hers #1109

Wife in Training #1184

Merry Christmas, Daddy #1192

* (#litres_trial_promo)In Care of the Sheriff #1283

* (#litres_trial_promo)Guess What? We’re Married! #1338

Husband from 9 to 5 #1354

* (#litres_trial_promo)The Rancher and the Heiress #1374

† (#litres_trial_promo)The Baby Bequest #1420

† (#litres_trial_promo)Bringing Up Babies #1427

† (#litres_trial_promo)Oh, Babies! #1433

Silhouette Desire

Take the Risk #567


SUSAN MEIER

has written category romances for Silhouette Romance and Silhouette Desire. A full-time writer, Susan has also been an employee of a major defense contractor, a columnist for a small newspaper and a division manager of a charitable organization. But her greatest joy in her life has always been her children, who constantly surprise and amaze her. Married for over twenty years to her wonderful, understanding and gorgeous husband, Michael, Susan cherishes her roles as a mother, wife, sister and friend, believing them to be life’s real treasures. She not only cherishes those roles as gifts, but also tries to convey the beauty and importance of loving relationships in her books.


Grant,

You’re a very demanding person, and though that’s served you well all your life and probably made you more successful than your mother and I ever envisioned, you need to be careful with women’s hearts. For Kristen’s heart has been broken once.

A man as successful as you are, as good with people as you are, should be able to find a place for Kristen in your world. If she’s anything like my Angela, she’s bright, articulate, loving and kind. Surely you could use someone like her somewhere in your life.

Because I trust you, because I know you’ll be compassionate enough to put petty feuds aside, I’m putting my kids in your hands…and hope you do the right thing.

I’m sure you’ll know what to do.

Love,

Dad




Contents


Chapter One (#u8e972b31-4e64-566d-bff9-f37e21f49ce3)

Chapter Two (#u6302e475-8e8b-55d6-b931-5f673b587c71)

Chapter Three (#u01c0f6f1-dc38-5622-b15d-717c8dbe9cae)

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)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)




Chapter One


“I think I must be lost,” Kristen Morris Devereaux said to the butler who had answered the front door of the Tudor mansion. If her directions were correct, this was the home of Grant, Evan and Chas Brewster, the men from whom she wanted to get custody of her sister’s triplets. She understood that the Brewsters were far from poor, but she hadn’t expected them to have a butler and a mansion. If this was their home, they were people so far out of her social sphere she’d look like nothing but a country bumpkin to them.

For the first time since she discovered she wasn’t alone in the world, she felt a stab of reality poke her enthusiastic bubble of hope. Still, she held her smile in place. She had to do this.

“I’m looking for the Brewster residence.”

“This is the Brewster residence,” the butler responded.

“Good,” she said, though inside her spirits sank. She forced herself to smile again. “I’m Kristen Devereaux.”

For a few seconds, the man only stared at her, obviously taking in her appearance from head to toe and pausing on her simple red dress which wasn’t shabby or disgraceful, but probably didn’t meet the standards of people who could afford a butler.

His questionable inspection strengthened her will. After suffering the loss of her husband, then her only sister, Kristen had learned life wasn’t always easy. With so much at stake, she had resolved to be tough, persistent, even downright pushy if she needed to be. If he was trying to shatter that confidence, he’d have to do much better than peer at her as if her clothes confused him.

He did.

He smiled.

One small upward movement of his lips shifted the angles and planes of his face, transforming him from a gatekeeper bully into Prince Charming at the ball. The brown eyes that were so suspicious became warm and welcoming. With his beautiful shiny black hair, black beard and absolutely perfect face, he was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. Over six feet, but not bulky or too well muscled, he wore his tuxedo with an easy grace, a languid sexuality. Her gaze ambling up his beautiful body and returning to his face, Kristen suddenly recognized he was gorgeous, and all her self-assurance fluttered away like the four-and-twenty black birds exiting the pie.

“Hello, Ms. Devereaux,” he said kindly, extending his hand to shake hers, setting off an odd chain reaction of tingles that started in Kristen’s stomach and spiraled downward to her toes.

When he released her hand, he smiled at her again. “Can I take you out to speak with Lily?”

“Lily?” Kristen asked, breathless and baffled. She didn’t have a clue who Lily was, but more than that, from this gentleman’s sexy smile she could tell he was a charmer—probably somebody well accustomed to having women fall at his feet. Though that should have automatically repelled her, Kristen felt another unexpected jolt of pleasure because the look on his face also told her he found her as attractive as she found him.

“Lily, the bride.” he said, grinning foolishly.

Kristen squelched the urge to close her eyes and groan out loud. The bride? Oh, for Pete’s sake! This guy wasn’t the butler. He was a member of a wedding party. She’d arrived just in time for a wedding! He thought she was an inappropriately dressed guest and from the way she was ogling him he also thought she was so smitten with him that she’d forgotten the bride’s name.

Great. Just great. Even before she explained who she was she’d made a fool of herself.

A smart woman would take herself and her inappropriate red dress into town to find a room for the night and return in the morning when all the festivities had died down. Sounded like a darned good idea to her.

“Actually I’m—”

“Here you are, Grant.”

Wearing a tuxedo and looking every bit as relaxed and regal as the gentleman at the front door, the man who interrupted Kristen appeared to be another member of the wedding party. As if only noticing Kristen, he gave her a polite, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I’m Evan Brewster,” he said, extending his hand to shake hers.

Suddenly realizing she was in the thick of things, Kristen’s heart thumped and her limbs turned to rubber, but she took Evan’s hand and returned his smile. “Kristen Devereaux,” she said.

“And I’m Grant Brewster,” Grant said, nudging his brother aside. “My brother Evan is married. I am not,” he said shamelessly. “Would you like to dance?”

“You don’t have time to dance, Grant,” Evan said. Even as he spoke a short blond woman, probably in her sixties, shuffled up behind him, carrying a baby.

The child wore a frilly pink dress, white tights and shiny black patent-leather Mary Janes. Before Kristen could notice any real detail like the color of the child’s eyes and whether she had the perfect pert nose of all Morris children, a tall red-haired woman appeared carrying another baby. This one was a boy. And behind that woman was a young, beautiful brunette, carrying another girl. This baby wore a dress identical to the dress the first baby wore, but this little girl’s hair was pitch-black. And she had brown eyes as dark and as clear as Grant Brewster’s.

Filled with wonder, Kristen only stared at the children while Evan Brewster spoke.

“There’s too much excitement outside for the kids, and all three of them could use a nap. But Mrs. Romani can’t handle them alone.”

“I can’t handle one baby alone,” the seasoned blonde in the black leather miniskirt reminded gruffly. “I’m not even trying with three.”

Grant sighed, but Kristen recognized his dilemma immediately. Both he and his brother were wearing tuxedos and the young woman holding the dark-haired little girl wore an autumn-orange gown. Obviously all three of them were in the wedding party.

And the babies were Kristen’s sister’s triplets.

Not only were they around the right age, ten months, but Kristen could see the green of Angela’s eyes in the first little girl, and the boy had Angela’s sandy-brown hair. These were Angela’s babies. She could feel it in her bones.

“I could help with the children.” Kristen heard herself say the words before she actually registered the thought. Because she was the triplets’ aunt, and because the Brewsters were obviously preoccupied, it just seemed to make sense for her to be the one to take the children off their hands.

“If you’re putting them down for a nap, all Mrs. Romani and I have to do is keep them company in the nursery until they fall asleep.”

Grant’s gaze traveled over to her slowly. He either couldn’t believe that she had offered, or he wasn’t sure he trusted her with the children.

From the long scrutiny she received from Grant and everyone else, Kristen was fairly certain it was the latter.

When he finally spoke, it was quietly. “Are you sure you don’t mind? You haven’t even had a chance to speak with Lily yet.”

“I can speak with Lily later,” Kristen said, not admitting she didn’t really know Lily. Now that she was in the room with the family who controlled the fate of her nieces and nephew, and up against the knowledge that they were rich strangers who didn’t have to trust her, certain truths about the situation became crystal clear. Once she told them who she was and that ultimately she wanted custody of these babies, they might not be as agreeable to letting her spend private time with the triplets as they were right now.

“They do need a nap,” Mrs. Romani reminded tersely and, as if on cue, the little boy began to cry. One of the girls rubbed her eyes.

“And we should be outside with Lily and Chas,” the woman in the orange gown said. “They can’t handle all the guests on their own.”

“I’m still working with the caterer,” Evan interjected. “At this rate it will be another ten minutes before we eat.”

“Okay. Okay,” Grant said with a sigh, turning to Kristen again. “If you’re sure you don’t mind, we’d appreciate your help with the babies.”

Kristen smiled. “It will be my pleasure.”

The brunette handed the dark-haired little girl to Kristen and it was everything Kristen could do to keep from gasping with pleasure. Carrying the little boy, Grant Brewster accompanied Kristen and Mrs. Romani upstairs into the nursery, which was clean and bright, and decorated with rainbows and angels.

She wanted to hold the baby forever. Grant instructed her to lay the child in her crib. Reluctant, but resigned because she didn’t want to draw any undue attention, she placed the little girl in her bed, slipped off her ruffly pink outfit and tights and dressed her in lightweight pajamas.

“What’s her name?” she asked quietly as the baby rolled onto her side, wrapped the rim of a blanket in her small fist and began to drift off to sleep.

“Taylor,” Grant whispered. “The little boy is Cody. The other girl is Antoinette. We call her Annie.”

“Annie,” Kristen said, smiling.

“If you two are okay, I need to get back downstairs,” Grant said, turning toward the door.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Mrs. Romani said, shooing him out with her hand. “We’re gonna be just fine.”

He cast the woman a narrow-eyed glance, one that clearly told Kristen he wasn’t overly thrilled with Mrs. Romani’s gruffness, then left the room.

Mrs. Romani sighed with relief. “He’s a tough one.”

Kristen couldn’t help it, she giggled. “Seems like.”

“Oh, he’s nice enough, but when it comes to these kids, he’s a real pain in the butt. When I took this job I had every intention of working as both housekeeper and nanny—I could handle three kids in my sleep because I worked in day care—but that one, that Grant, he’s such a nitpicker I didn’t want the aggravation.”

“He can’t be that bad,” Kristen said, taking a cue from Mrs. Romani and settling in one of the three rocking chairs far enough away from the cribs that their whispered conversation wouldn’t disturb the kids.

“He’s worse,” Mrs. Romani said, pointing a stubby finger at Kristen. “That’s kind of why I’m glad we got a minute alone …Kristen Devereaux,” she added slyly, looking directly at Kristen. “I haven’t been with the Brewsters long, but when I clean I have access to absolutely everything. While I was storing some things in the basement cabinets for Chas a few weeks ago, I came across your name on papers in boxes of Angela Morris Brewster’s things.” She paused, holding Kristen’s gaze. “I know who you are…”

Grant couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew Kristen Devereaux. When he’d first seen her on the threshold of his home, he couldn’t remember her name from the guest list, but he had to admit that once he got a really good look at her he wouldn’t have cared if she had crashed the wedding. She was so darned attractive that he was absolutely speechless for a good thirty seconds. He hadn’t met a woman who had had this kind of effect on him in years. Hell, he didn’t think he’d ever met a woman who made his mind go blank the way Kristen Devereaux had.

“You seem to be well,” Evan said, sidling up to his brother and handing him a tall, cold glass of beer, “not really angry, but not really pleased about something.”

“I’m fine,” Grant mumbled, accepting the glass from his brother. Though most of the guests were happily sipping champagne after dinner, Grant was a simple man who liked a good beer. The fact that his youngest brother remembered that was a sign of respect of sorts. The fact that his second brother brought him a drink when there were other chores to be performed was a sign that everybody noticed his mood.

Not good.

“You’re not fine,” Evan stated. “Because if you were, you would be enjoying the wedding. I always know when something’s bothering you, because you stand around as if you’re in a daze or thinking. Maybe thinking too hard when you should be celebrating?”

Grant couldn’t help it, he smiled. “Something like that.”

“So what’s the problem?”

Oh, there was a good question, Grant thought, walking to a chair under an umbrella-covered table. How did one explain to his little brother, who was happily, joyfully, blissfully married, that he was annoyed because the woman who was currently watching the babies nap had set off alarm bells when she told him her name, but he ignored them because she was so darned good-looking? His first instincts put him on red alert, but he’d forgotten that warning sign when feathery blond hair, big green eyes and a slight Southern drawl brought other reactions to the forefront. Packaged in a trim red dress that accented a figure that would bring most grown men to their knees, Kristen Devereaux could have asked him for the family silver and he probably would have handed it over. That was what actually bothered him.

When Grant didn’t say anything, Evan sighed. “Grant, for the first time in a long time, things are falling into place for us. The lumber mill is operating at peak performance. We found a housekeeper. Chas just married a wonderful woman. What could you possibly be worried about?”

What indeed?

Since Evan seemed willing to listen, Grant decided to give this discussion a shot. If he skipped the fact that he had ignored his internal alarm because he was incredibly attracted to Kristen and jumped to the more general aspects of the problem, like the fact that she was really quick to volunteer to sit with Mrs. Romani, maybe he did have a chance of getting his point across without looking like an idiot.

“Aren’t you even the slightest bit curious about why Kristen Devereaux offered to baby-sit the kids?”

Evan’s forehead furrowed. “Why should I be?”

“For starters, she hasn’t even said hello to the bride yet.”

“If she’s a friend of Lily’s and she realized Lily’s wedding party was having a problem,” Evan disagreed casually, “I think it’s nice that she volunteered to help out. But she wasn’t exactly dressed for a wedding. Did she say she was here for the wedding?”

“Why else would she be here?”

Evan took his time about answering, waving to a few distant relatives who sat at one of the round umbrella tables on the far edge of the patio. To keep everyone off the potentially damp grounds, tall pyramids of yellow, amber and auburn mums were strategically placed to encircle the stone floor. Potted red maples hid the in-ground pool. By the grace of God they had a warm sunny November day.

Grant glanced at the people who’d caught Evan’s eye and he, too, waved. But even as he greeted people whose names he barely recalled, he realized his brother was stalling.

“Evan,” Grant said, his brother’s name coming out like a warning growl.

“All right,” Evan said, exasperated. “Claire and I put an ad in all the Pittsburgh newspapers, advertising for a nanny. We’d had such good luck with the ad that brought us Mrs. Romani that I thought…”

“What do you mean we had such good luck with Mrs. Romani?” Grant gasped. “The woman hates kids.”

“The woman hates you,” Evan corrected, extending his arm over his wife’s shoulders when she came over and sat on the chair beside his. “Isn’t that right, Claire?”

Stunning in her burnt-orange gown, dark-haired, blue-eyed Claire looked him right in the eye. “I’m sorry, Grant, but sometimes you come across as being a little gruff.”

“Gruff!” he all but barked.

“I rest my case,” Evan said, then laughed.

“I give up on you two,” Grant said, walking away because there really were a hundred more important details to attend to than sitting around discussing their cantankerous housekeeper and his disposition. For him there was no question that Mrs. Romani was a grouchy old bat. And he also didn’t have to debate whether his disposition had gone to hell in a handbasket because he knew damned well that it had. He was a thirty-six-year-old man who’d just married off his youngest brother. He’d never, ever considered marriage for himself, but he had to admit—if only to himself—that during the ceremony he’d felt old and alone.

And right now, standing outside the French doors that would take him inside the house, and eventually upstairs to the nursery to give Kristen a reprieve from watching the kids, he couldn’t help but wonder. Did seeing the spark of attraction in the eyes of a woman as beautiful and sexy as Kristen Devereaux cause him to ignore the nagging feeling that something about her wasn’t quite right?

“I’m surprised it took you this long to get here.”

Kristen peered at the curious housekeeper, wondering if she was making an enemy or an ally. Since she couldn’t tell and expected everybody to know who she was in another two hours or so, she decided to rehearse what to say to the triplets’ guardians to make sure she said it with finesse and dignity.

“I didn’t know the triplets existed until a few weeks ago. I was grieving so hard that I couldn’t handle looking into Angela’s personal effects.”

Mrs. Romani patted Kristen’s hand. “I’m sorry, honey. I should have been more sensitive. I’m just so used to being tactless with Grant that I sometimes forget not everybody’s a pigheaded fool like him.”

That made Kristen laugh. “If you dislike the guy so much, why do you work for him?”

“I don’t dislike him. I just think he’s a man who’s far too accustomed to getting his own way.” She paused long enough to catch Kristen’s gaze. “If you’ve come here for the kids, you’re in for a fight. And you’re going to lose. This is Brewster County,” she said, artificially accenting the Brewster name. “And these guys are Brewsters. Because the Brewster lumber mill and the construction project for Grant’s new shopping mall employ eighty percent of the population, people fall at their feet to serve them. Especially Grant. Unless the Brewsters were incompetent caretakers, no judge in his right mind would award custody against the wishes of Grant Brewster.”

“Are you saying I’m wasting my time?”

“I’m saying you’ve got to be careful and smart.”

Kristen studied the housekeeper. “And if I’m careful and smart, I’ll eventually get the kids?”

The housekeeper shook her head. “Those babies are Brewsters. This is their world. This is their empire. Someday they will own everything the brothers now control. The best you can hope for is to be part of the kids’ lives. And your best bet for being a part of the triplets’ lives is to make yourself a place in the lives of the brothers, then explain who you are.”

Kristen held the housekeeper’s gaze. “I can’t do that. These are Morris children every bit as much as they are Brewsters. If I take them back to Texas they’ll inherit a multimillion-dollar ranch. If I don’t take them back to Texas the ranch will probably go out of my family’s hands.”

Mrs. Romani sighed and set her rocker in motion. “Okay, one of two things is going to happen here,” she said with authority. “First, you could tell the Brewsters you need to take the kids back to Texas to get their ranch, and the Brewsters will tell you they will handle getting the ranch for the kids.” She glanced at Kristen. “Which means your family has as good as lost it. Or, second, you could tell the Brewsters about your ranch, and they could cooperate with your plan to take the kids to Texas to get it back into your family’s hands, but they will expect you to bring the kids home. You’re never going to get those kids. Not permanently. And not even for a few months unless the Brewsters trust you.”

“Which way do you think this will pan out?”

“I think you’re going to tell them about the ranch. They will thank you, and then when Chas returns from his honeymoon, he will set the wheels in motion to get the property for the triplets. Once it’s securely in the triplets’ hands, it will be nothing but an investment.”

“But that’s my home,” Kristen protested indignantly.

Mrs. Romani conceded that with a nod. “If you remind them of that, I’m sure the Brewsters will let you live there…until they want to sell it.”

Obviously seeing the panic-stricken look on Kristen’s face, Mrs. Romani laughed. “Honey, these guys are nothing if not smart and quick. They won’t let the ranch fall out of the kids’ hands, and they might even be sentimental enough to let you live there, but when push comes to shove, they’re going to handle this like any other business deal.”

Absorbing the painful truth, Kristen studied the old woman. “What about the kids?”

Mrs. Romani looked at her. “What about the kids?”

“I want them.”

“The Brewsters want them, too.”

“But they belong in Texas.”

“The Brewsters think they belong in Pennsylvania.”

Glancing at her hands, Kristen smiled wryly. “You aren’t painting a very nice picture.”

“And you aren’t taking these kids anywhere,” Mrs. Romani said frankly. “Look, honey, I don’t think you have much more than a snowball’s chance in hell, but just so you get an understanding of how the Brewsters feel about these babies, and also to have a real shot at letting the Brewsters get to know you before they see you as the enemy trying to steal their brother and sisters, I’m going to make a suggestion.”

Kristen peeked at her.

“Take the job as the nanny. We’ll pretend you’re my cousin’s daughter who came here this afternoon looking for me, and I’ll give you the recommendation you need to get hired.”

Kristen shook her head. “I don’t think I could do that. It’s dishonest.”

“Then pack your bags and take yourself back to Texas without these babies. Without getting to know these babies,” she added emphatically. “Without even really seeing these babies. Because there’s no way Grant is going to let you within ten miles of them if he discovers your ultimate goal is to take these kids two thousand miles away.”

When Grant opened the door of the nursery and he saw Mrs. Romani and Kristen with their heads bent low in whispered conversation, he knew he hadn’t misinterpreted, misrepresented or even misjudged how attractive Kristen was. Her feathery blond hair cascaded around her shoulders, and though her lovely green eyes were intense and serious, they sparkled with warmth. Desire hit him like a punch in the stomach.

Again.

As if he had timed it, Evan slapped him on the back, jolting him back to reality. “So, how are things going up here?”

“Great,” Mrs. Romani said, smiling.

“Fine,” Kristen said, nodding her head in agreement.

“No problem with the kids?”

“Sleeping like babies,” Mrs. Romani said, then laughed at her own joke. “By the way,” she added, sliding a quick glance at Kristen. “In all the confusion, we forgot to explain that Kristen is my cousin’s daughter. She came here to visit but when I explained that you guys could use some permanent help with the kids, she volunteered. So, if you want her, you’ve got yourself a nanny.”

Grant watched his brother’s eyes, widen in surprise. “Hey, that’s terrific,” Evan said.

But Grant suppressed a sigh of despair. Wonderful. This was just wonderful. Now he knew why all his alarm bells went off when he started talking with Kristen. She was related to the woman who couldn’t keep a civil tone with him for two sentences even though they lived in the same house and he paid her a damned nice salary. Now he’d have two Romani women in his household. Two women to snip at him and yip at him and yell at him.

“No.”

Everybody looked at him.

“No?” Evan echoed stupefied.

“It’s never a good policy to have relatives working this closely together,” he said, feeling a quick stab of regret when he turned his gaze to Kristen and her beautiful green eyes met his. She was so pretty that he could have happily sighed with pleasure just looking at her. Her pale peaches-and-cream skin invited a touch. He could vividly imagine how wonderful the soft curves of her body would feel pressed against him.

And he knew he didn’t want to refuse to hire her because she was Mrs. Romani’s cousin’s daughter. That was just a convenient excuse. The truth was he didn’t want to hire her because he was attracted to her and if she worked for him he would be up against this wicked temptation all day long…twenty-four, seven.

“Look, Grant,” Mrs. Romani gruffly commanded. “Kristen needs this job. Could you put your feelings aside for a few weeks and let her show you that she can be a good nanny?”

Fighting a grimace, Grant recognized Mrs. Romani didn’t know how close to the truth she was. Could he put his feelings aside for a few weeks?

As a gentleman, and a man who also desperately needed help with his three kids, he had to.

“Then if she doesn’t work out,” Mrs. Romani continued as Grant dragged himself out of his thoughts and back into the real world, “she’ll leave and you can find somebody else.”

“She can stay,” Grant said, trying not to sound magnanimous and sanctimonious, and subduing his own apprehension. He couldn’t do anything about the fact that Kristen was ravishing, but he could conquer the vulnerability and yearnings that sprung up watching Chas get married. And he would, damn it, he would.

Unfortunately even as he said the words that granted his permission, he realized that since Mrs. Romani had the maid’s quarters on the first floor, this woman to whom he found himself unreasonably attracted would now be sleeping two doors down the hall.

Before he strode out of the room, he thanked God they didn’t have to share a bathroom. If he caught her in the bathtub, surrounded by bubbles…

Well, he just didn’t want to go there.




Chapter Two


After the wedding guests had gone, Mrs. Romani showed Kristen to her room, and Kristen took the opportunity to change out of her dress and into jeans and a sweater. When she returned downstairs, she discovered the triplets had been fed a light snack. But before she panicked about not knowing what a nanny should be doing, Grant announced it was time to take the girls upstairs and get them ready for bed.

Kristen climbed the elegant spiral stairway behind Grant, Evan and Claire, the bridesmaid in the autumn-orange dress who Kristen learned was Evan’s wife. She wasn’t exactly sure why it took four people to dress two babies for bed, and she was even more confused about why they weren’t getting Cody ready for bed, but she also wasn’t about to question anything. The less she said, the better. Since caring for babies was supposed to come naturally, she didn’t think the Brewsters would notice her lack of experience with kids as long as she kept her wits about her, but one out-of-place question or comment could give her away.

When she realized how crafty and cautious she would have to be to keep this charade going, she wondered if Mrs. Romani’s plan was the best way to handle integrating herself into the Brewster family. Though her intentions were good, she also knew what she was doing wasn’t honest. Unfortunately now that the wheels were in motion, she was stuck. Until she ingratiated herself to these people, revealing who she was could actually backfire and make it look like she was nothing more than a liar and a sneak. She had to stick this out for as long as it took to show them she was a good person, not someone prone to charades, trickery and lying.

Grant opened the nursery door and Evan and Claire followed him into the rainbow strewn room. Nervous, and out of her element, Kristen hung behind.

“Isn’t this a lovely nursery?” Claire said as she walked over to Kristen and casually slid one of the children into her arms, apparently thinking Kristen wouldn’t be so bold as to do something without permission. “This is Annie. She’s Chas’s child.”

Feeling the softness of the baby’s skin, smelling the sweet scent of baby powder, and looking into green eyes exactly like Angela’s, Kristen felt emotions so strong and so deep she struggled to control them. She cleared her throat, and focused her attention on what Claire had said. “Chas’s child?” she asked quietly.

Evan swung the little boy off the changing table and playfully tossed him to Claire, as he said, “Claire, here, came up with the bright idea that we’d need to do something a little out of the ordinary to make sure each child got special attention. So, we each took responsibility for one child. Cody is ours,” he said, pointing to the little boy Claire held. “Responsibility for Annie belongs to Chas, and Grant cares for Taylor,” he added, nodding toward the dark-haired little girl sitting on Grant’s lap.

When she looked at the beautiful baby, Kristen wondered how her fair-haired, pale-skinned sister could have had a child so dark, then her gaze collided with that of Grant and Kristen didn’t have to think any further. Taylor didn’t merely have Morris blood, she also shared blood with Grant—and right now Grant was their primary guardian. If Kristen wanted these kids, her fight was with him. From the wary look on his face, Kristen could almost believe that was the message he was sending her with his smoky, watchful eyes.

Except he didn’t know she was Taylor’s aunt. Which meant the expression was intended to convey something entirely different. The same thing he’d been inadvertently communicating all afternoon. The same thing she’d sensed ten seconds after he opened his door to her. They were attracted to each other. And because of her choice they were now living together. Obviously the situation didn’t please him.

If they behaved like mature, honorable adults, it wouldn’t be a problem, Kristen thought and glanced away. For her it was a no-brainer, not something she had to ponder or brood about.

Besides, she wasn’t worried about the attraction anymore. All she had to do was remember Bradley, how much she adored him, how hard it was to lose him, how raw the wounds of deprivation could be when you lost someone you cherished, and no man could be attractive to her anymore.

“Do you want me to stay and help show Kristen the ropes?” Claire asked Grant, bringing Kristen back to the matter at hand.

Grant caught Kristen’s gaze again. “No. You guys grab Cody and head on home. It’s been a long day for all of us. I’m sure Kristen and I can handle things alone.”

Kristen quickly, easily got the point of what he was telling her with his black, black eyes. He’d bided his time waiting for wedding guests to leave, waiting for Mrs. Romani to show Kristen to her room, and allowing Kristen a few minutes to change into comfortable clothes, but as soon as Claire and Evan left, he and Kristen would have a heart-to-heart chat. Since he hadn’t been able to get out of hiring her, he probably had every intention of laying down the law.

But it appeared that Evan and his wife were oblivious to the firmness of Grant’s voice because Evan said, “You know, Grant, there’s something I needed to discuss with you. Dad had an investment in the pension fund that doesn’t look right to me. If you’d give me ten minutes to run over the paperwork with you, you could study it and give me your opinion. If you agree with me, I’d like to sell this dog before the end of the month.”

As Evan and his wife walked to the nursery door, Grant cast a skeptical eye toward Kristen. “Can you handle both girls by yourself for a minute?”

Though her heart thumped wildly at the prospect of being alone with the babies, Kristen shrugged casually, “Yeah. Sure. Why not?”

Still cautious, Grant placed Taylor into the play yard and headed toward the door. Claire turned and, with Cody’s hand, waved goodbye to Kristen and the girls, and the Brewsters exited, leaving Kristen behind with her two nieces and the echoing silence.

Glad that Grant had given her time to change into blue jeans and a sweater, Kristen sat Annie on the nursery floor, then reached into the play yard, pulled out Taylor and sat her beside her sister.

Leaning back on her haunches, Kristen stared at them. The girls were dressed in two-piece yellow pajamas with plastic-bottomed feet. Like a little lady, Taylor sat primly and smiled at Kristen. Annie, however, began to howl.

“Shh!” Kristen said quickly, afraid Grant would hear and return before she had a chance to get acquainted with the babies. She scooped Annie off the floor with one arm while reaching for Taylor with the other. “Darn it, Annie, you look so much like your mother, couldn’t you have been born with her sweet, sweet disposition? Did you have to turn out like me?”

As if actually understanding what had been said, Annie stopped wailing and peered at Kristen.

“Yes. That’s right. We share a gene pool. I’m your mother’s sister. There’s a very good possibility you could turn out exactly like me—except looking like your mother.”

This time, Taylor cocked her head and studied Kristen.

“And you,” she said to Taylor. “You look so doggone much like your half brother that it scares me. But at least you act like your mother.”

As if fully comprehending the discussion and happy at the prospect of being like her mother, Taylor smiled, then squealed with glee as she clapped her chubby little hands.

Kristen’s heart lurched. She squeezed her eyes shut to gather her wits before walking to the first available rocker. She felt like fate was reminding her that these kids knew nothing about their mother and would never know about their mother. She doubted the Brewsters could tell the children much since Angela hadn’t been in their family for very long.

Snuggling both girls against her, Kristen leaned back on the rocker. She hadn’t known about these children until she received a letter from Angela’s lawyer announcing that he was withdrawing as counsel in Angela’s claim for the Morris family ranch. Holding the girls close, Kirsten experienced strange, compelling feelings. These babies weren’t merely all she had left, they could easily become the meaning and purpose for her existence. After her husband Bradley’s death, her life was nothing more than day-to-day emptiness, but with the knowledge that she needed to be the mother to her sister’s three children, something wonderful had been born in her. More than a reason to live, a reason to be happy. A reason to rejoice.

But custody of the kids belonged to men she didn’t even know in a state two thousand miles away from her home. They were rich, they were powerful, and she only owned the clothes on her back.

The fight, if it came down to that, would not be a fair one, and she understood why Mrs. Romani had suggested Kristen demonstrate to this family that she was a good, kind, generous person before she not only revealed who she was but also announced that she needed to take these children to Texas.

At the sound of the nursery doorknob turning, signaling Grant’s return, Kristen became fully alert. One swift frown got the attention of the squirming babies on her lap. “Things are strained enough between us already,” she quickly whispered. “If your brother thinks you’re misbehaving for me, he might ask me to leave.”

Though she thought her rationalization explained everything sufficiently that the girls would obey, Taylor then let out with a squeal and immediately thereafter Annie followed suit. “Shh!” she admonished quietly.

“Don’t waste your breath,” Grant said, closing the door behind him. “They’re wound-up from all the attention at the wedding. But more than that, they won’t listen to you because you’re new.”

He added the last as he scooped Taylor from Kristen’s lap. In one smooth motion, he raised her above his head, then swung her down far enough that he could blow on her belly. The action caused Taylor to squeal.

Terrified for the baby’s safety, Kristen gaped at him. “What the heck is that?”

“It’s called playing,” Grant replied, then swung Taylor over his head again.

Kristen bounced from her seat ready to rescue the little girl, but when she realized Taylor was squealing with delight, not fright, she stopped dead in her tracks. “She likes that?”

Grant cast a curious glance at Kristen. “She expects this from me.”

“She expects to be roughhoused?”

“She expects to be played with,” Grant corrected with a laugh, then shifted the little girl into the crook of his arm and reached into the small refrigerator in the corner of the room and pulled out a baby bottle. He tossed it to Kristen.

Only through the grace of God and good reflexes did she catch it.

“Feed Annie.”

She looked at the bottle, then the baby, then back at Grant again. But preoccupied with grabbing another bottle, kicking the refrigerator door closed and carrying Taylor to a rocker, he didn’t seem to see that she didn’t know what to do.

As he sat, Kristen saw that he noticed she hadn’t moved and he sighed heavily. “Slide the nipple into her mouth,” he suggested evenly.

“I was just a little shell-shocked from having a bottle tossed at me,” Kristen said, trying to cover for the fact that she’d never given a baby a bottle before. She’d seen mothers feed babies, dress them, diaper them. She watched all her friends have children and begin to raise them, but she hadn’t actually done any of the baby work with or for them.

“Whatever,” Grant said, sliding the nipple of the bottle into Taylor’s mouth, then relaxing against the back of his rocker. Without another word, he closed his eyes.

Because she’d been primed for a fight or a lecture, Kristen frowned as she gave the bottle to Annie and got comfortable in her rocker. Confused, but guessing that Grant’s brother might have cautioned him against saying anything that might lose their “nanny,” she covertly studied Grant.

Eyes closed, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, and restfully lounging in the rocker, he was casually gorgeous, but also the epitome of a well-practiced dad. He could have been the babies’ father. In fact, he should have been the triplet’s father. Somewhere in his mid-thirties, Grant was probably closer to Angela’s age than Norm Brewster had been.

Remembering her own shock at being told in Arnie Garrett’s letter that Angela had had triplets with someone from a different generation, Kristen couldn’t even speculate on the Brewster brothers’ reaction. How would the grown children of an elderly man take the news that they had infant siblings? Surely they didn’t rejoice. Second families were always a little hard to take and with the addition of more people into this particular bloodline, the Brewsters would also have to share their inheritance. Nine chances out of ten, they’d been angry with their father—probably furious—when these children were born. And now they were forced to raise the same kids whose very existence had cut their net worths in half.

“Do you resent these kids?” she blurted into the quiet room, too appalled that the Brewsters might mistreat the babies to think clearly, but simultaneously regretting being nosy. Recognizing she had to somehow cover that slip, she added, “Your father must have married a woman a lot younger than he was to have babies. So, you couldn’t have been happy.”

Still not opening his eyes, Grant said, “Mrs. Romani filled your head with the village gossip, I see.”

“She didn’t say anything,” Kristen said, then paused, realizing it was true. The only thing that had really concerned Mrs. Romani was that Kristen understood Grant Brewster wasn’t an easy man to get along with. From his blunt assumption, she was beginning to see why. “I’m just curious.”

“All right,” he said. Sighing heavily, he opened his eyes and faced her, never once jostling or disturbing the baby he was feeding. “You’re going to hear it eventually anyway, so I’ll tell you that I wasn’t pleased when my father remarried two months after my mother died. I threw a fit, left town, dragged my brothers with me and didn’t return until my father died.”

Kristen heard the remorse that resonated through the last part, the part about his father, and she felt guilty for asking. Obviously Norm had married Angela to help the Morris family regain control of their ranch. If he hadn’t explained that to his sons, though, it sounded as if that was because they hadn’t given him a chance.

Unfortunately she also couldn’t explain to Grant Brewster that his father had married her sister because the Morrises were about to lose their family home. When her father and uncle were killed together in an airplane accident, the property reverted to a childless aunt, who didn’t know how to bequeath it. So, in her will she’d stipulated that the first Morris to have a child inherited the ranch, provided he or she agreed to live there with that child. But when Aunt Paige died, Morrises came out of the woodwork, each claiming he was the rightful heir, forcing Angela, Kristen and a handful of California relatives to prove they were the only people with a direct line to the property.

But one of them still had to have a child to claim it. If Norm Brewster married her sister and immediately made her pregnant, Kristen could only assume he’d done it as a kindness.

She couldn’t reveal all this to Grant Brewster because if she went into that kind of detail with him, no matter how speculatively, she would give herself away. But she would explain. Soon. And when she did, Grant Brewster could forgive himself.

“I’m sorry I asked,” Kristen said, intending to change the subject. “It’s really none of my business.”

“No, it’s fine,” Grant insisted coolly. “This is a conversation we needed to get out of the way. It is unusual for grown men to have baby siblings. If you were curious, I can understand why.”

The quiet tone of his voice filled her with compassion. She could tell that beneath his very calm, composed demeanor was a suffering man. Sensitive to his need for comforting in a way she’d never been with anyone before, she nestled Annie closer as she said, “If it’s any consolation, I know a thing or two about loss.”

She hesitated, torn, but decided she owed Grant something since she reopened wounds better left closed. If nothing else she could let him know he wasn’t alone in the world. “My husband died a little over a year ago, my sister a few months later.”

He glanced at her. “I’m sorry. My parents died two years apart, so I had some time to adjust. Your situation must have been terrible.”

“It was,” Kristen said, suddenly realizing how desperate she was to talk with someone who would understand the way she knew this man would understand. But talking about Angela with a Brewster would be courting trouble and discussing losing her husband was still too painful, too personal to discuss.

“But everybody has his or her cross to bear.”

Grant nodded. “Funny how we thought these kids were going to be something like a cross to bear and they ended up being the best thing that ever happened to us.”

Smiling softly as she looked at the big, dark man cuddling the tiny child, Kristen nodded. “I can see that.”

“So that must be why you came looking for Mrs. Romani?” Grant asked, still gazing at his suckling baby.

Kristen’s brow puckered. “Excuse me?”

“Losing your sister and your husband must have been what prompted you to come looking for Mrs. Romani.”

Catching on to what he was saying, Kristen let the sentence swirl around in her head long enough for her to realize half of it was true—or the essence of it was true—and it didn’t complicate things to admit it. “Yes. It was my sister’s death that brought me here,” she said carefully.

“So you’re not close to Mrs. Romani?” Grant asked.

She shook her head. “No, we’re not close at all.”

He caught her gaze. “She didn’t raise you or anything like that?”

This time Kristen giggled. “No, Mr. Worrywart, she did not raise me.”

If anyone else had laughed at him and called him Mr. Worrywart, Grant would have definitely taken offense. Since it was Kristen, and since they were cuddling babies and sharing their very private, painful backgrounds with each other, Grant not only didn’t take offense, but he actually chuckled.

“I’m sorry, but my dislike for Mrs. Romani is such common knowledge around here that I sometimes forget most normal people don’t behave like this.”

“Why don’t you like her?”

Grant considered that. “It isn’t so much that I don’t like her. It’s more that she has an annoying habit of trying to control everything or run everybody’s life, or something.”

“She said approximately the same thing about you.”

He peered at her. “Really?”

“Yeah, she said you like to be the boss, you try to run everybody’s life and you always have to have your own way. So, she confronts you to more or less keep everything balanced.”

“Really?” he asked curiously.

“She doesn’t dislike you. I think she sees her belligerence as more self-defense than anything else. She doesn’t want to get swept up in the tidal wave. She sees you as being very…powerful, and not afraid to use that power.”

Carefully maneuvering the baby he held, Grant freed his right hand so he could rub it across the back of his neck. He didn’t know why it felt so good or so right to talk with this woman—actually, to confide in her as he’d never confided to anyone in his life—but it did. And he was too tired to fight it.

“I’m responsible for the lives of three babies, two brothers and now the wives of two brothers. We own the mill that employs fifty percent of the people in this county, and I’m putting in a shopping mall that will employ another thirty percent when it’s up and running. If all goes well, my construction company will pick up everybody who is left and even some people from surrounding counties. I don’t have time to stop and consider everybody’s feelings and everybody’s opinion.”

“Maybe you should.”

He stared at her. “How?” he asked incredulously. “Should I take a Gallop poll?”

She laughed at him again and his eyes narrowed. He should be angry with her for laughing at him. Instead he felt only breathless relief that he could actually talk about his burdens with an objective, independent listener.

“No, but you could try looking around every once in a while. Check for a grimace or a frown. Ask your brothers for an opinion here and there.”

“I do ask for my brothers’ opinions.”

“Do you take them into consideration?”

“Of course, I take…” He stopped. He honestly didn’t really know if he ever took his brothers’ opinions into consideration. He listened to them, then tossed them into the vat of information stored in his brain, which he assimilated in a certain fashion, then used to make decisions as he needed them.

“You don’t know, do you?” Kristen asked archly.

He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck again. What was he doing, confiding in a stranger? Yes, he knew it felt good to have somebody to talk with, especially someone objective, but this woman was only objective because she was a newcomer to his household. She was also an employee. No smart boss confided in his employees.

“No, I don’t know,” he replied. “And this conversation is over.”

“Can’t handle it?”

“No. It’s none of your business,” Grant corrected, rising and walking to a crib. “I’ve known you eight hours and I’ve already told you my deepest, darkest secrets.”

Following suit, Kristen also took her baby to a crib. “If those were your deepest, darkest secrets, Grant Brewster, you’ve got to get a life.”

The words sent an odd chill up Grant’s spine because they were exactly the thoughts he’d been having as he watched his baby brother get married.

Careful, cautious, he faced her. In her little pink sweater and a pair of loose-fitting jeans that knew exactly which parts of her anatomy to hug, Kristen Devereaux didn’t have a clue how much he really wanted to have a life—or at least some good old-fashioned excitement—with her.

Kristen seemed too damned young to have been married. She seemed too damned young not to have any family but a cantankerous old bat housekeeper she didn’t know. She seemed too damned young to be wise, and wonderful…and widowed.

Actually she was probably too damned young for him.

He took a long breath and blew it out. “Let’s go,” he said, motioning to the door. “Though the triplets usually sleep through the night now, there are no guarantees. There’s a monitor in your room and one in mine. First one to awaken has to get the kids. That’s the rule. So, I suggest that you go straight to your room and go straight to bed.”

Boy, he wished he hadn’t said that. Instant, graphic images of her sliding between satin sheets came to mind. He could see her hair fanned out on a pillow. He could envision her face softened in sleep. He could feel her nestled against him.

Oh, great! As if he needed to remind himself of the last image.

“Because that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’m going to shower—” in cold water “—and then I’m going straight to bed.”

He said the last as he led her into the hall and more or less pointed her to the bedroom she’d been assigned.

But as he shuffled off as if his feet were on fire, Kristen dallied in going to her room. When she heard his door shut with a very distinct and final click, she pivoted and ran down the hall, down the steps of the spiral staircase, through the foyer and kitchen and to Mrs. Romani’s door.

It opened immediately.

“Well?” the gruff-voiced housekeeper asked as she granted Kristen entry.

“I think everything went okay. But I didn’t actually make up a story like you told me to. We started talking and before I knew it I was explaining that my husband and sister had died.”

Mrs. Romani gasped in horror.

“I didn’t go into any kind of detail and he assumed that because my family had died I’d come looking for a long, lost relative—you.”

“ He came up with that?”

Kristen nodded.

Mrs. Romani grinned. “Oh, that’s rich.”

But Kristen frowned. “I don’t like fooling him. I don’t like fooling anybody.”

“That’s why this is so rich,” Mrs. Romani said, patting Kristen’s hand. “ You never told him anything. He made assumptions. Now we don’t have to make up a story. We can more or less behave like strangers getting to know each other, which we are. And we also don’t have to worry that he’ll ask too many questions because you told him you lost your family, and he’s very sensitive about loss.”

Kristen licked her suddenly dry lips. “I know.”

“He confided in you?”

“Little things. Bits and pieces,” Kristen clarifed uncertainly.

“Well, now,” Mrs. Romani said, and with a satisfied smirk directed Kristen to the door. “Sounds like everything will run smooth as clockwork. I don’t have anything to worry about. And you don’t have anything to worry about.”

But she did, Kristen thought, sneaking back to her room. She wasn’t a person who was built for deception, and she especially didn’t like deceiving someone as burdened as Grant Brewster. But more than that, they had feelings for each other. Not only were they instantly attracted, but they were instantly empathetic, because they’d gone through some similar situations. When he discovered who she was he was going to be insulted and angry, unless she kept their relationship distant or, if possible, nonexistent from this point forward so his level of betrayal would be lower than it would be if they became friends.

Since that was the logical choice, that’s what she intended to do. Keep her distance. Avoid becoming friends. Ignore the attraction.




Chapter Three


Kristen had the girls dressed in bright pink sweat suits and was feeding them breakfast when Grant came downstairs the next morning. Everything was under control until she looked up at the kitchen doorway in which he stood, then the spoon she held stopped midway to Taylor’s open mouth.

Not only was he wearing a neat black suit, white shirt and paisley tie, but he had shaved his beard. His beard. The one thing about him that could be construed as even remotely unattractive was gone. Replaced by a clean, smooth face of angles and planes so handsome and male that Kristen’s heart skipped a beat.

He caught her gaze and gave her a casual smile, but Kristen only stared at him.

“Good morning,” he said and walked into the room. “I saw that you had the kids up so I just got myself dressed. I hope it wasn’t a problem.”

“The children got me up about an hour ago,” Kristen said as she slid a spoonful of oatmeal into Annie’s mouth. Shaving his beard had taken her by surprise, but her reaction to him wasn’t new. The night before she’d decided to handle this, and she would. “Mrs. Romani helped me with breakfast.”

“I helped her prepare breakfast,” Mrs. Romani corrected, because—Grant knew—his short housekeeper with the overbleached hair and a sharp, crackly voice from cigarettes had no intention of letting anyone get the wrong impression. “As far as those babies go, she’s handled everything herself.”

“Really?” Grant asked, striding to the coffeepot, sternly stifling the tingles of awareness that were beginning to expand in his stomach. With Kristen’s sleep-tousled hair, and her curves clearly outlined by the soft flannel of her yellow robe, not only did she look cuddly and beautiful, but her genuine interest in the babies gave her an allure that couldn’t be matched by mere physical beauty.

But though the tingles of awareness yearned to turn into full-scale sexual arousal, Grant was determined not to let them. Kristen Devereaux was a woman with problems. He might not have clearly realized that the night before, but in the light of day everything had made perfect sense. She understood him because she understood loss. He was grieving his father, regretting his mistakes. She was grieving her husband and her sister. They were an emotionally wounded duo, who definitely, positively, absolutely shouldn’t get involved.

But beyond that, he wasn’t allowed to get involved with her. She was an employee. The complications that could result from the two of them becoming personal were too numerous to mention and too serious to be ignored. A wise man stayed the hell away from his employees. Period.

“Since Cody’s with Claire and Evan, there were only two babies for me to dress and feed,” Kristen said, bringing Grant back to the present as she set Annie’s spoon down and reached for Taylor’s. “Besides, the girls are sweet and well behaved.”

At that Grant involuntarily chuckled, but when Kristen gave him a puzzled frown he stopped laughing. “I’m sorry, I thought you were kidding.”

“Kidding?”

He shrugged. “Annie and Taylor are trouble with a capital T. Annie by herself is as lovable as a kitten. Alone, Taylor is a little lady. But put them together and they are holy terrors.”

“No, they aren’t,” Kristen objected, continuing to feed the kids.

Grant turned to Mrs. Romani. “Is she serious?”

Mrs. Romani tossed her hands as if exasperated to be brought into the discussion, but she said, “I haven’t ever seen the girls so quiet.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Grant said and walked over to the table in the breakfast nook. From the way Kristen seemed hesitant with the girls the night before, he wouldn’t have guessed her capable of taking care of the morning routine alone. He sat on the captain’s chair beside Kristen’s, leaning in to get a good view of what she was doing. Not only was she handling things much better than Grant would have guessed her able, but the girls had never been this well mannered. If there was a lesson to be learned here, he was willing to learn it.

“See?” Kristen said, spooning more oatmeal into Annie’s mouth. Like an angel, Annie obediently opened and closed her lips when required, while Taylor sat patiently, waiting for her turn.

Grant stared at them. “Amazing. How do you do that?”

“I don’t know,” Kristen said, but Grant noticed a blush stain her cheeks and he seriously wondered if she hadn’t done something this morning to get the girls to behave. If they were older he’d think she’d bribed them with a present.

Incredulous, Grant bent in closer. “Taylor, honey, don’t you want to put your bowl on your head and wear it like a hat?”

Taylor cocked her head and gave him a look as if to say she would never do something so naughty.

“Annie? No scream?”

Annie only giggled.

Mrs. Romani shook her head in bewilderment. “I’m telling you. She’s a miracle worker.”

“I am not,” Kristen objected, almost too vehemently.

Grant had his suspicions about how she’d gotten the children to be good, but he didn’t care if she had bribed them. As long as they were safe and happy, he wasn’t questioning anything.

“I think you’re a miracle worker,” Grant said, laying his arm across the back of her chair and finding himself in intimate proximity. Not only was he close enough to touch her, but those last three inches put him in the direct line of seeing her smooth, shiny hair up close. He also caught a whiff of her scent. A flowery bouquet hit him so unexpectedly, he didn’t stop himself from catching it.

The soft fragrance brought him spontaneous ecstasy and he automatically inhaled again. But he rationalized that he still didn’t have anything to worry about. So what if he’d inadvertently lingered over that scent a little longer than he should have? It didn’t mean anything. He had his perspective firmly grounded. He had no intention of getting involved with this woman. He simply had enjoyed her cologne. No big deal. In fact, he wouldn’t mind another whiff. As silently as possible, he sniffed the air, then narrowed his eyes in pleasure.

“Well, good morning, Grant,” Evan said, stepping into the room, carrying Cody.

Caught red-handed, Grant leaped out of the chair. “Evan!” he said, realizing too late that the move made him look even more guilty.

Evan gasped. “You shaved!”

Grant nonchalantly rubbed his clean chin. “I was tired of the beard.”

Big-eyed and incredulous, Evan grinned. “Really?”

“Really.” Grant mimicked, his eyes narrowing in warning.

Still grinning, Evan strolled a little farther into the kitchen. “Looks like you and Kristen are getting along very well…with the children.”

Though everyone else in the room appeared oblivious, Grant recognized that Evan had added enough of a pause in his statement to get in a pointed, inappropriate jab of teasing.

Mature, proper, Grant chose not to rise to the bait. He even knew how to nip his brother’s misconception in the bud. “Actually Kristen’s handled everything herself. I was just trying to figure out what she’d done to get the kids to behave so well this morning.”

“I could see that,” Evan agreed, the teasing still in his voice, and his eyes bright with the joy of tormenting his older brother. “The way you were leaning right in there, so close to Kristen…and the girls,” he said, again adding the second part of the statement after another significant pause. “I could see that you were trying to…figure out Kristen’s secrets.”

Grant glared at his brother. His first instinct was to call Evan a moron. Instead he picked up his coffee cup, gulped down the steamy liquid and strode toward the back door. For the love of God, the woman was young enough to be his…sister. Sister. Not daughter. He refused to say daughter. Refused. He wasn’t that old. Only thirty-six. And she had to be at least twenty-three. Maybe even twenty-four or twenty-five. To have been married and widowed, Kristen could even be a year or two older. She acted older. She looked older. Hell, she looked at least twenty-five….

He stopped himself. Was he arguing for or against her?

“And, really, Grant, you’re so much more attractive without the beard,” Evan said, still teasing. “Though I have to wonder why you didn’t shave for Chas’s wedding. That would have made more sense than waiting until after the ceremony and the pictures and everything. I wonder what could have happened since the wedding to change your mind.”

The more Evan needled him, the more obvious and idiotic Grant felt. If his brother had noticed the way he was carrying on, and deduced why Grant had shaved, then the only person Grant was fooling was himself. He needed to somehow regain his perspective, and he had to behave when he was forced to be around Kristen instead of letting unruly, hormone-driven instincts take over. No more confidence sharing. No more dressing to look better because she was around. And definitely no more sniffing the air.

He grabbed the doorknob. “I have meetings until noon, and I don’t think I can be back to help with lunch. Mrs. Romani, I want pot roast for supper.”

“Yes, sir,” Mrs. Romani said, saluting him as he stormed out of the door.

Kristen breathed a sigh of relief that he was gone, then rose and reached for Cody. “Hello, honey,” she cooed sweetly to the little boy.

He peered at her, his face puckered into a scowl, and before Kristen realized what was happening he began to cry.

“Oh, oh,” Evan said, taking Cody back again. “I think he’s making strange.”

“Making strange?” Kristen asked, alarmed that her own nephew wouldn’t like her, though she realized the poor kid couldn’t like someone he didn’t know.

“We spoil him,” Evan admitted with a grimace.

“There’s an understatement,” Mrs. Romani said, laughing as she began tidying up the kitchen.

Cody continued to cry and within seconds had both of his sisters wailing with him.

“There goes your run of good luck,” Mrs. Romani said wryly.

“As long as Grant didn’t see them, I don’t care,” Kristen said without thinking. She forgot Evan was as much of a consideration as Grant until the words were already out of her mouth. Stumbling to recover, she added, “Once I start playing with them, I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

Evan gave her a sympathetic look. “Not when they’re this wound up,” he said amiably, as if dealing with the kids was second nature to him and not something that got him flustered or frazzled. “I’ll call Claire and see if she can rearrange our schedules so that one or both of us can stay with you this morning.”

Kristen peeked at Mrs. Romani.

Mrs. Romani subtly nodded her endorsement that Kristen could take the offer without fear of reprisal.

The breath she was holding burst out in a whoosh. “You mean it?”

“Of course,” Evan said, walking to the wall phone by the door. Juggling Cody and dialing simultaneously, he added, “We’re all trying to work together here, but Grant’s the one with the most input. If he doesn’t like the way you’re handling the kids, he won’t keep you.”

Kristen smiled with sardonic acknowledgment. “I figured that out for myself.”

“Not a problem. We’ll teach you the ropes,” Evan said, dismissing the whole business as if it were no big deal. “Before this is all over, Claire and I will turn you into a professional.”

“You’d do that for me?”

He shrugged. “You and the kids.”

A wave of gratitude washed over Kristen until she realized what had just happened. Not only had she let down her guard with one of the brothers, but that same brother had put the health, safety and well-being of the triplets ahead of his business.

Kristen stopped that line of thought because that wasn’t precisely what he had done as much as it was her interpretation of what he’d done.

Besides, she wasn’t here to make any determinations about the Brewsters, whether or not they were good caretakers or whether or not she should feel guilty about wanting to get custody of the triplets. She was here to prove herself. Even if the only thing she could get from these men was the opportunity to take the kids to Texas long enough to get the ranch, she still had to prove to them that she was capable of handling three babies for the time they would be in her custody.

If anything, she’d just scored a strike against herself.

Dinner with the Brewster triplets was an adventure.

Though Claire had stayed with Kristen through the morning, and even helped with lunch, she needed to get back to the lumber mill and left Kristen alone to handle the afternoon by herself. Given that the children typically took a long nap, neither Kristen nor Claire felt there would be a problem, but the kids didn’t seem to want to sleep.

They wanted to play. And cry. And play. And cry. Because Kristen wasn’t sure if she should let them cry themselves to sleep, or play with them until they were exhausted, she tried a little of both and the result was that she confused them. Eventually all three children fell asleep, but none of them slept more than twenty minutes.

Since they hadn’t napped as long as they needed, they were exhausted by the time dinner rolled around, and all three were cranky and restless. The girls were so bad Evan and Claire took one look at them and knew Kristen couldn’t feed them alone.




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