His-And-Hers Twins (16 page)

“But Henrietta's our dog,” August argued.

“And we should've watched her better.” Summer gulped.

“And I shouldn't have left the spaghetti out so she could get to it. And I should have hung up the clothes instead of leaving them on the table,” Paige added, ac
cepting full blame. She hugged them against her, wiping away their tears.

“You're not mad at us?” Summer said.

“You won't go away?” August asked.

Paige shook her head. “I love you, girls. And, no, I'm not mad, and I'm not going anywhere.” She glanced at the ruined dress, ignoring the despair settling in her chest.

Summer and August threw their arms around her. “We love you, Paige.”

Paige smiled and hugged them again. “I love you, too.” She gestured toward the stained material. “Now, let's clean up this mess before your dad gets back and thinks we're a bunch of little animals ourselves.”

August giggled. “'Kay, Paige.”

Summer swiped at her nose and nodded. Between the three of them, they finished cleaning the kitchen and floor, then Paige gathered the outfits and dropped them in the trash.

“But what will you do for your prospect?” August asked.

“My project,” Paige clarified.

“Will they drop you out of school?”

“No, honey, don't worry.” Paige stuck her hands on her hips, her mind racing for a solution. She only had a few pieces of material left, not nearly enough to redo the first project. “I don't know what I'll do for the project yet, but I'll think of something. Come on, it's nearly ten—you two are going to bed.” She tucked them into the guest bed, gave them two rag dolls from the shelf to cuddle with, sang them a lullaby, then tiptoed out into the hallway, wishing she could be a part of the little girls' lives forever.

Paige lingered at the door, listening to them whisper. While she waited on them to settle down, her gaze rested
on one of her dolls perched on her bedroom dresser. She suddenly had a brainstorm. She'd design a child's wardrobe. She had enough material for smaller articles of clothing, and if she kept the patterns simple, no zippers or elaborate stitching or gathers, she could finish them in one night. And she could give the clothes to the girls when she'd finished. Using the girls as her inspiration, she set to work, excited about the new designs whirling in her brain.

Zeke called about midnight to tell her he needed to watch the German shepherd through the night.

“The girls are sleeping. Just leave them here for the night,” Paige told him, purposefully omitting the details of her project crisis. And the fact that she would be up all night making a new one.

“I appreciate this,” Zeke said, sounding tired.

“Don't worry about the girls. You can pick them up in the morning.” They said good-night and Paige grabbed the scissors, grateful she had work to do to keep her mind off Zeke.

 

W
HEN THE DOORBELL
rang at seven o'clock the next morning, Paige staggered to the door holding a cup of coffee.

“Morning.” Zeke sauntered in, looking sleepy-eyed and rumpled in the same jeans and shirt he'd worn the night before. He stared at her, his forehead furrowing. “What's wrong, Paige? You look exhausted.”

Paige yawned. “I am tired. I had a late night.”

Zeke tensed, his panicked gaze shooting over her shoulder to scan the room. “How come? Did one of the girls get sick?”

Paige shook her head. The girls bounced in, full of early morning energy. “Daddy, we made doll blankets
for Molly and Sue.” They held up their creations, their faces glowing with pride.

“We sewed 'em ourselves last night with Paige!” August exclaimed.

“Great work.” Zeke examined the small stitches, then grinned at Paige appreciatively. “It was really nice of you to teach them how to sew. And to let them spend the night.”

“No problem.” Paige poured herself a fresh cup of coffee and gestured in offering toward Zeke. He shrugged no.

The girls scrunched their faces, whispering amongst themselves. Finally August piped up. “Did you tell Daddy about the mess?”

Paige shook her head and whispered, “Shh. It's okay.”

“Did she tell daddy about what mess?” Zeke asked.

Summer tugged on Zeke's hand and pointed to the trash. “Henrietta messed up Paige's dresses. She had to throw 'em away.”

The girls talked at once, both giving elaborate versions of the harrowing night. When they were finished, Zeke shuffled on his feet, looked mortified. “Paige, I'm sorry. What can I do to fix it?”

“Nothing, Zeke. Everything worked out okay.”

“Did you make a new dress?” the girls asked.

Paige yawned. “Yep, a couple of new ones. I finished early this morning.”

“You couldn't have asked for more time?” Zeke asked.

“It's the end of the summer session, my last project.” She showed them the children's outfits—a black broomstick skirt and small white blouse, a pair of shorts and tunic top and a full-length black jacket over a simple white jumper.

“They're so cute!” August said.

“I love the skirt,” Summer cried. “Daddy, can we get one like it?”

“Tell you what.” Paige knelt to hug both girls. “After my professor grades the project, you can have the outfits.”

The girls squealed in delight.

“You're creative and way too generous,” Zeke said. “Especially after my dog caused you so much trouble.”

A million emotions swirled through Paige, but she was too exhausted to explore them. She suddenly felt vulnerable and exposed again, as if they were both replaying snippets of their last disastrous conversation. He hadn't called her generous then, but selfish. And she'd accused him of using her to baby-sit.

The antique grandfather clock in the hallway chimed and Paige startled, realizing she had to dress for class. “I have to go,” she said, hoping Zeke would say more.

But he studied her for a long moment, then nodded and said goodbye. And she was left in her big, suddenly too quiet house, wishing things were different, and suddenly feeling achingly alone.

 

“W
HAT
?” P
AIGE COULD
hardly believe the compliments her final project had received. When Professor Davidson had asked her to stay after class to discuss her project, she was afraid he was going to give her a bad grade.

“We need more designers in the children's field,” her professor said. “Someone who not only knows fashion, but understands children and their needs. I'm giving you an A on the project.” Professor Davidson pulled out a business card. “And I'd like you to call and make an appointment with Blythe Johnson. She's a fashion consultant who might be able to help you if you're interested in this field. I think you have some real talent.”

“
If
I'm interested,” Paige said, growing more and more excited. “I'd love to talk to her.”

“She might even have an apprenticeship for you. If she likes your work, a showing at the Atlanta Apparel Mart might not be too far off in the future.”

“You're kidding! That would be incredible.”

Professor Higdon nodded, her glasses wiggling on the tip of her nose. “I'm also putting your name in for one of the overseas grants. Good luck, Ms. Watkins.”

Paige thanked the young black woman and walked outside in a state of shock. Maybe the catastrophe last night with her first project had been a blessing in disguise. She couldn't wait to tell the girls! And Beverly. But what about Zeke? Would he be happy for her?

She climbed in the VW and drove to the boutique, almost shouting the news to Beverly as she entered the shop.

“Wonderful!” Beverly said. “I knew you could do it.”

“Well, I have to meet with that Ms. Johnson first, but just thinking about a showing at the Apparel Mart is so exciting. And a chance to study abroad.”

Beverly tapped her thumb against her bottom lip. “You know, I've been thinking about adding on to the store. Maybe a mother-daughter section.”

“You're kidding?”

“No.” Beverly grinned. “As a matter of fact, I've had several requests from women for mother/daughter dresses in coordinating fabrics, for special occasions like Easter and Christmas.”

“I could work up some designs,” Paige offered, her mind already spinning with visions of smocked dresses with elaborate stitched borders. Lacy collars, cross-stitched bunnies, hearts for Valentines…

“Then get busy, girl. We'll make a special corner for
the display models, even have an open house. Can you make at least three different designs, then stitch them up in several sizes? We can advertise and take custom orders, too.”

“Sure. How soon do you want them?”

“Last week!”

They both laughed. The rest of the afternoon spun by with a whirlwind of excited activity. Paige called the lady her professor suggested and set up an appointment. From the tone of the woman's voice on the phone, she felt confident they would work something out. And she loved the idea of the mother-daughter dress designs!

“Why don't you leave a little early?” Beverly suggested. “Go celebrate.”

“Thanks,” Paige said. She wanted to share the news. Then she paused, wondering what Zeke and the twins would say.

Strains of a melancholy jazz song filled the silence as Paige drove, her earlier excitement fading as she approached home. Her empty house, the quiet, lonely rooms, the big yard with no children of her own to play in it, her dreams of designing clothes, all the long hours of working and planning—all for what?

She was so distracted she pulled into the driveway, barely sparing a glance around the house and yard as she ambled up the sidewalk, her feet heavy, her mind contemplating why the happiness and elation she thought she would be experiencing felt diluted.

Then she stuck her key in the door to unlock it, gasping in shock when the door swung open and she saw the contents of her home scattered across the floor. The vandalism had spread to her house, and the culprits had left a path of destruction in their wake.

Zeke had just stepped from the shower when he heard someone pounding on his back door. The twins had gone home with a friend from day care and weren't supposed be home until nine. Maybe it was Paige. No, he wouldn't hope for that. Maybe Renee had changed her mind and decided to come home early. Or was it someone else responding to that confounded ad his daughters had displayed everywhere?

The pounding grew louder so he hurriedly threw on a shirt and tugged on his jeans, barely zipping the pants and leaving the shirt hanging open. Whoever was knocking certainly was impatient. He took the steps two at a time, then swung the door open, still towel-drying his hair.

Paige stood on his stoop, looking shaken and distressed, her green eyes filled with tears. His heart slammed against his ribs. “Paige, what's wrong?”

She collapsed in his arms, her voice a whisper against his bare chest. He wrapped his arms around her and soothed her with tender strokes. “Shh, what's wrong? Are you hurt? Did something happen?”

She sniffled, then pulled back slightly, still nestled in
his embrace, but far enough so he could see into her eyes. “Someone broke into my house.”

Panic sliced through him. He pushed her away from him, searching her for injuries. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” She moved into his arms again as if she needed his reassurance. She felt soft and vulnerable, the wispy tendrils of her hair brushing across his chest. “It was those kids again, I guess.”

“Did you see anyone?” he asked, his voice husky.

“No,” she whispered. “But they left a mess. My…my dolls, some of them are broken.”

He swallowed, not grasping the full meaning of her loss, but realizing the doll collection he'd seen must have some kind of sentimental value.

“And they smashed my sewing machine and painted ugly words on my walls.”

His temper flared, the senseless destruction now taking on a personal nature. The vandals had hurt Paige; they had hurt him. He cupped her face in his hands and gently kissed her forehead, easing her hair from her face and trying to soothe her with soft words. “Have you called the police?”

She shook her head. A strange burst of male pride assaulted him—she'd come to him first. Not the police, and not her security guard boyfriend.

She shivered in his arms and he rubbed his hands over her shoulders, nuzzling his face into the thick tresses of her hair. “You want me to call them?”

As if she just realized where she was, she glanced around the kitchen. “Where are the girls?”

“They're at a friend's house. They won't be home until later.”

She sighed, obviously relieved. “Good. I don't want them to see the house like it is.”

Again, anger churned through him. He realized with a great deal of admiration that in spite of Paige's own personal upheaval, she'd wanted to protect the girls first. Shame hit him for ever comparing her to Renee.

“I'll call the police,” he said. “Then I'll go with you to your house to meet them, okay?”

A small smile of relief curved her mouth and he had the desperate urge to kiss her senseless and lay her down and make love to her until all her reservations had disappeared, until she knew that the two of them belonged together. But now wasn't the time. If they wanted to catch these hoodlum kids they needed to act quickly.

“Here, sit down and drink some water while I phone the police,” he suggested, tucking her into one of his wooden chairs while he called.

A few minutes later, his anger surfaced again when he witnessed the destruction in Paige's house. Books and clothes were strewn everywhere. They had dumped food items on the floor and spread ketchup on the counters, used lipstick to write foul words on the walls, and broken three of her dolls. “My dad gave me this one right before he died,” Paige said quietly as she stared at the shredded doll clothes.

“We'll dust for prints,” the officer said. “But in the other break-ins we haven't had any luck.”

Paige trembled as she nodded at the officer. “I appreciate whatever you can do.”

When the officers had completed their work and left, Paige turned to Zeke, her eyes still misty. “Thanks for coming with me, Zeke.”

He pulled her into his arms. “I'm sorry they did this to you, Paige, so sorry.”

“I guess I should start cleaning up.” Paige wrapped her arms around his waist, then laid her head on his chest.
He inhaled the sweet scent of her shampoo, the feminine scent of Paige that coiled his body into knots, and he silently wished he never had to let her go.

He gently brushed her hair from her face. “Why don't you let me call a cleaning service? You can come over to my house and relax while they take care of it.”

Paige gazed at him, her eyes shadowed with vulnerability. “Thanks, Zeke, I'd like that.”

 

W
HEN THE CLEANING
crew arrived, Zeke took Paige's hand and led her back across the yard to his house. The girls arrived at the same time and raced into the house, both jabbering about their visit with Betsy.

“Paige is going to have pizza with us,” Zeke said when they'd finally exhausted their chatter.

“Goody,” both girls squealed.

Paige explained about the vandals breaking into the house. Zeke used the break-in as a perfect reminder to the girls as to why they shouldn't go running off. Paige jumped in, warning them to always stay close to an adult and not to talk to strangers.

“Did they break Angel?” Summer asked, her voice wobbly.

Paige nodded. “I'm afraid so, and they destroyed two of my other dolls, too.”

August threw her arms around Paige's neck. “I'm sorry, Paige. Maybe you can fix it. You can spend the night with us if you're scared to go back.”

“Yeah, we can have a slumber party,” Summer suggested, tears pooling in our eyes.

“Yeah, tomorrow's the Fourth of July!”

Zeke and Paige exchanged surprised looks, then Zeke stuttered, “Well, I don't know. If she wants to stay over that's fine. I can sleep on the couch.”

“Oh, Daddy,” Summer said with a giggle. “Don't be silly. Paige is a girl. She can sleep with us.”

“Please, Daddy, it'll be part of our birthday present,” August begged.

Zeke hid a smile behind his hand at Paige's agitated look. “But your birthday's not for three more weeks.”

“It'll be an early present,” August argued.

“Paige?”

“I guess it would be okay,” she said. “I'll need to lock up my house first.”

“I'll go with you.”

His daughters pulled at his hands. “Then Paige can spend the night?”

“Okay, but only if Paige agrees.”
And because I'm worried your mom won't show. And I don't want Paige to go home either.

They walked next door and dismissed the cleaning crew, then locked Paige's house. The four of them spent the rest of the evening relaxing, laughing and talking like old friends as they sprawled on the floor, gobbling pizza and popcorn while they watched
The Wizard of Oz.

Zeke glanced at Paige and gave her a sexy grin, their fingers brushing occasionally when they reached into the popcorn bowl. Each time, Zeke let his linger on hers for a brief moment, watching the pupils of her eyes dilate at the heat in his touch. He remembered the night they'd shared a romantic picnic in the mountains, the night they'd almost made love in his house, and he had to tear his gaze from Paige's lips to keep his body in control.

Near the end of the movie, Summer and August put on their red patent leather shoes. When Dorothy clicked her heels together, reciting the famous lines, “There's no place like home,” the girls imitated the movements, reciting the words along with Dorothy.

Afterward, Paige told them about her children's designs and the girls were ecstatic that she would be making and selling clothes in town.

Maybe that means she'll be sticking around,
Zeke thought, hope burgeoning in his chest. Then she mentioned the possible grant and his hopes deflated. Finally both girls dozed off and Paige helped him carry them to their bedrooms.

“I guess I should go,” Paige whispered as they tucked them in bed.

Summer popped an eye open. “No, Paige, you promised.”

August rolled over. “You said you wouldn't leabe us.”

Uncertainty crossed Paige's face, but she caressed Summer lovingly. Zeke read the questions in her eyes. “I'll explain if you don't want to stay,” he said softly, hoping she would stay and he could coax her downstairs and into his arms for a while.

“No, I did promise.” She brushed her fingers across August's forehead. “And I don't break my promises.” Then she scooted down and lay beside Summer. His throat closed at the sight of the three redheads cuddled together. Moonlight rippled through the miniblinds, casting shadows and streaks of golden light on his daughters' angelic faces and highlighting the soft, sensual curve of Paige's cheeks. Then both his daughters snuggled up beside Paige and he had to leave the room—before he joined them.

 

Z
EKE SAT FOR
a long time in his bedroom, the image of Paige and his girls lying side by side tearing at his heart. Paige was partly right—he did want a mother for his girls. But he didn't want just anyone. He wanted Paige
Watkins. He'd never met a more loving, giving, sexy and talented woman and he wanted her in his life, not just for his daughters' sake, but for himself. She was the type of woman he wanted his daughters to become—strong, independent, self-confident, ambitious, but loving and nurturing at the same time.

Why had he ever thought a woman couldn't mix a family and a career? Men did it all the time. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt Paige could handle both roles. She fit perfectly in their family. Didn't she see it?

And she would fit perfectly with him. He took off his clothes and slid under the covers, wearing nothing but his boxers, imagining Paige lying beside him, cuddled next to his naked body. He wanted her whispering sweet nothings to him all night long instead of sleeping with his children, and he wanted to tear off her clothes and make love to her until she couldn't speak, could only breathe his name on a contented sigh.

But how could he convince her he was sincere? He had four weeks until Renee came to visit; he'd have to use them to persuade Paige they were right for each other. A knot of dread tightened his stomach as he thought about his ex-wife flying in. The girls would be devastated if she didn't come for their birthday, but they couldn't count on her. Not like Paige. When Paige gave a promise, he knew she'd do anything within her power to keep it.

But what would his ex-wife's appearance do to him, other than reopen old wounds and scrape them raw again? And how would her appearance affect his already shaky relationship with Paige?

 

P
AIGE WOKE TO
Summer sitting on her stomach and August blowing bubbles above her head. Henrietta lay snor
ing at their feet. She groaned, then laughed. “Today's the parade, today's the parade,” Summer chanted.

Paige rose and finger-combed her hair from her face, motioning for the twins to follow her to the kitchen. They tiptoed down the stairs and she made French toast for the girls, touched when they gave her a handmade invitation to their birthday party. She had just seated herself with a cup of coffee when Zeke stumbled into the kitchen, his hair still damp from the shower, the scent of his aftershave and soapy skin almost bowling her over with its masculinity. At least he had the good sense to put on a shirt, even if it wasn't completely buttoned.

“You're still here?” he said as if he'd expected differently.

“I'm getting ready to go home,” Paige said, apologizing quickly.

“Don't leave on my account,” he said in a sexy drawl. Paige shivered at the heated gaze he shot her. She sipped her coffee, feeling a heated blush creep up her cheeks.

“Are you coming to the parade, Paige?” Summer asked.

“Come with us,” August begged. “Can she, Daddy?”

“That's a great idea,” Zeke said with an easy grin.

“Then I'd better go shower.” Paige jumped up and hurried from the kitchen, Zeke's teasing, flirtatious smile almost scorching her back as she disappeared to the safety of her own house. But Zeke caught up with her, ordering her and the twins to stay outside while he checked her house to make sure the vandals hadn't returned.

Such a hero, Paige thought, with ridiculous pleasure, when he strode out and told her the coast was clear. Her feelings for him grew even more when he leaned sideways and dropped a sexy whisper in her ear. Then he
winked and the heated promises in his eyes made her think of fireworks—not the kind they were going to see at the town parade.

 

T
HREE WEEKS LATER
, Paige could no longer deny she was totally in love with Zeke Blalock. She wasn't sure when it had happened, the night she'd spent the night for the impromptu slumber party, the moment she'd fallen into Zeke's arms when her house had been vandalized, or snippets of treasured moments they'd shared over the past few weeks. They hadn't been alone, but the tension burning between them every time they saw one another was more exciting than any night she'd ever spent with another man. She was dying to sleep with him, aching to know if his passion was as strong as the heady promises she saw in his eyes.

But today would be the test. Zeke's ex was coming home.

Her stomach pitched, totally protesting any breakfast, and she quickly wrapped the small sewing baskets she'd bought for the girls in decorative paper, then carefully placed dress-up clothes in a small trunk for the twins.

She'd wanted desperately to be alone with Zeke over the past few weeks, had craved the final intimacy that would bond them as a couple, but she'd kept the distance between them in spite of the fact Zeke had subtly hinted for more, forcing herself to wait until today, to see for herself how he reacted to his ex. Because once she gave herself to Zeke, her body and heart, she would never be able to withstand the pain of his loss. Already the strength of her feelings for him went way beyond the feelings she'd had for Eric.