His-And-Hers Twins (5 page)

The doorbell rang, giving him a moment's reprieve, and when he opened the door, Paige stood on the other side, Henrietta in hand.

Was she still upset about the night before?

Paige pointed to the ground where Henrietta lay sprawled on her belly. “Henrietta seems to like my place.”

Summer's bellowing drowned out his reply. August ran over and flung herself at Paige, knocking her off balance.

“What's wrong?” Paige's brows crinkled in concern.

“We don't wanna go to school,” August wailed.

“We can't go today.” Summer sat up and rubbed her puffy, swollen eyes.

Paige patted August's back. “Why can't you go, sweetie?”

Zeke frowned, a headache forming behind his eyes. “They're having this Mommy and Me Tea at school and my grandma was supposed to go—

“'Cept she's sick,” August said, sniffling.

“She's upchucking,” Summer cried.

He frowned at the girls. “You have to go to school, girls. Dad's already late for work. You don't want the sick animals to get sicker because I'm not there, do you?”

August hedged, chewing her lip. Summer sniffed and swiped at her nose with the sleeve of her dress.

“We could go to work with you,” August suggested.

Frustration welled up inside Zeke. “Girls, I can't keep you there all day. I have surgery scheduled—”

August tightened her grip around Paige's legs. Summer leaned over and whispered something in her sister's ear. August nodded to her twin, then spoke up, her eyes wide. “Okay, we'll go, Daddy, under one 'dition.”

“A condition?” Zeke ran a hand over his jaw. “I don't believe this. I'm bargaining with my four-year-olds.”

“You want us to go to school?” August folded her arms as if preparing for battle.

Zeke nodded.

“Then Paige has to come to the tea with us.”

Paige quickly searched Zeke's face for his reaction. Kids! They had no idea how awkward they'd made things for both of them. Zeke looked as if he'd been strung up and left dangling over a tank of hot oil. “Um, girls—”

“I'm sure Paige is busy,” Zeke cut in firmly, giving the children a stern glare.

Paige hesitated. She
was
busy. She had to turn in her project at ten. But Zeke's haggard expression and the twin's swollen eyes tore at her heart. She couldn't help but sympathize, and she'd always had trouble saying no, especially to innocent children. Another reason she wouldn't make a good mother.

“I'm sorry you walked in on all this, Paige. We'll work it out somehow.” Zeke shrugged, then took Henrietta by the collar and pulled her inside. She flopped at the girl's feet and covered her furry face with her paws, letting out a whine of her own that added to the saga of sobbing.

“I do have class,” Paige said, hoping the girls would be all right. “My project's due today—”

“You don't like us,” August blurted, poking out her bottom lip.

“It's 'cause we're lots of trouble.” Summer swiped at her puffy eyes. “Just like Mommy said.”

Paige's chest tightened at the misery in the girls' expressions. She chewed her lip, not knowing what to say. Fury streaked Zeke's face, but he seemed to mask it quickly as he knelt before the girls. He patted both their backs, then spoke in a calm husky voice, “Listen here, girls. I don't know why your mother said that, but I'm sure she didn't mean it the way it sounded. Your mom loves you.”

Summer's lip trembled. “She said we make too much messes to go with her.”

“That we'd get in the way. That's why she won't come back,” Summer's voice cracked as another onslaught of tears slipped down her cheeks. “Eber.”

Moisture pooled in Paige's eyes but she blinked to stem the tears, shifting uncomfortably. She felt like an intruder to a private conversation. Zeke clenched his fists by his sides and her heart went out to him. She should retreat to her own yard, give the threesome time to discuss the situation, but her feet refused to budge. She remembered how her mother's absenteeism from the events in her life had made her feel. And Summer and August's mother had
chosen
to leave when they were small. They couldn't possibly understand.

“I'm sure Mom was just in a bad mood when she said those things, honey.” Zeke tipped Summer's chin up with his thumb. “She loves both of you very much. We'll call her tonight and you can talk to her, okay?”

“We tolded her we'd be good,” Summer whispered. She stuck her thumb in her mouth and chewed on her fingernail.

Paige's own nails dug into the palms of her hands. She cleared her throat before she spoke, sympathizing with
Zeke. How could any parent explain or defend another parent who'd deserted their child? Zeke's broad shoulders stiffened, his chocolate eyes dark with anger. And some other emotion she didn't recognize. Hurt? Was he still mourning over the loss of the woman, or did he hate her for leaving them?

“What time is the tea?” Paige finally asked.

Zeke's gaze locked with hers and he shook his head, his voice hard when he spoke. “Look, I appreciate the offer, but you don't have to do this, Paige. The girls are my responsibility, I can take care of them.”

“I know you can.” Paige blushed, suddenly aware how handsome Zeke looked in his white shirt and navy slacks. “But I want to go to the tea. For them.” She forced herself to stop staring at him, then knelt beside the girls and patted their hands. “I haven't been to a tea in ages. What time should I be there?”

“Twelbe o'clock,” Summer and August said in unison.

“You're really gonna come?” August asked in disbelief.

“Paige—”

“I'm really going to come.” Paige tucked a strand of the little girl's red hair behind her ear, ignoring Zeke's brittle look, “that is, if it's okay with your daddy.”

Zeke's smiled tightly, his voice low, “I guess so.”

“We promise not to pester you too much,” Summer said in a shaky voice that tore at Paige's heart.

“You could never pester me too much, girls. We're friends,” Paige said gently. Both girls threw their arms around her neck and Paige fell backward with the impact, almost toppling to the floor.

Zeke's tender look sent butterflies shimmying through her stomach. “Hey, you, two, you're going to wear Paige
out before the tea.” When Zeke had settled the twins on the floor, he reached out a hand and helped Paige up. His hand was hot and rough, his olive skin a sharp contrast to her pale complexion, his hand almost swallowing hers in size. The irises of his dark eyes sparkled with awareness, traces of the emotional ordeal with his daughters still lingering in the soft set of his mouth and the tight lines around his eyes. Paige's heart thumped a strange pitter-patter, his masculine touch sending a trace of awareness rippling through her, igniting an undercurrent of emotional and sexual energy that she refused to acknowledge.

“Thanks, Paige, I appreciate this.” Zeke squeezed her hand, holding it a fraction of a second longer than she thought necessary.

“Sure, it'll be fun,” she said, praying she didn't make any mistakes. The girls would be in school, teachers would be there, nothing could happen. They would be safe.

She could be the girls' friend and Zeke's, but not his lover. If she let herself get attached to them, and they left, she'd never survive. Not a second time. Eric had claimed to despise his ex, but had taken her back the second she'd come groveling. And when Paige had made a mistake with his son, Eric had immediately pointed out that Paige wasn't Joey's real mother.

She was simply going to be neighborly to Zeke and his children, nothing more.

The girls grabbed their shoes, then tugged at Zeke's pant leg as if they suddenly couldn't wait to go to school. “Daddy, we're gonna be late.” August charged toward the door.

“Yeah, let's hurry.” Summer pulled at his hand. “We
have to decorate the…” She clamped her hand over her mouth, her eyes glowing with excitement.

August poked her. “Shh, you're not sposed to tell.”

Summer giggled. “The surprise for the tea,” she finished.

Paige stood and met Zeke's gaze. His dark eyes held hers and for a moment she forgot the girls were in the room. Turmoil hardened his angular features and his shoulders slumped. He seemed tired and sad and angry at the same time. Did his heart still belong to his ex? Or did he have a sixth sense about not trusting her with his daughters?

He raked a hand through his hair, the longish ends brushing the collar of his shirt, then clenched his teeth when he spoke. “Thanks, Paige. I owe you one.”

Paige shrugged and swallowed the sudden nervous tension wedging itself between them, barely noticing when Summer ran outside. He sounded as if he'd bitten the words out, as if he hated being indebted to her. Had she made a mistake? Had he hoped she would decline? She finally shook her head, breaking the moment. “No problem. That's what neighbors are for.” She glanced at her watch, trying not to dwell on the masculine scent wafting around her. His aftershave reminded her of the outdoors—rugged, woodsy, and intoxicating—and the smattering of dark hair she noticed peeking through the top of his white shirt warmed her insides, suddenly making her feel hot. “I really need to go though, or I'll miss my first period class.” Her legs quaked as she stumbled toward the door.

“Come on, Daddy!” Summer and August screamed from the driveway.

Zeke chuckled at the girls, some of his tension draining
away. “This is really nice of you,” he said quietly. “I know you had your day all planned.”

Paige shrugged again. “I told you, it's no big deal. I still have time to make class, turn in my project, go to the tea, then come home and get ready for my date tonight.” As soon as she said the words, Zeke's jaw seemed to tighten again. Or maybe it was her imagination. Then his expression turned blank and he turned and walked toward his car. She followed, trying not to stare at his delectable behind or the way his broad shoulders filled out his starched shirt.

“Oh, by the way. Where is the tea?” Paige called.

Zeke pivoted slightly as he opened the car door for the girls. “At Riverwood Day Care. Do you know where it is?”

Paige nodded, her stomach cramping. Of course, she remembered the day care. She'd gone there herself as a child. And she'd absolutely
hated
it.

 

P
ERSPIRATION TRICKLED
down Zeke's collar and dampened his shirt. He had to force himself to remain calm and concentrate on the sutures needed to repair the Maltese's battered leg, but his jaw ached from clenching it. Damn Renee. She'd actually told the twins they were too much trouble. How could she have said something so cruel to her own daughters? Tension churned through his stomach, and he gripped the needle, his fingers trembling with anger. Taking a deep breath, he exhaled, the pent-up air from his lungs wheezing out shakily, then set to work repairing the animal. Thank God the shot had worked and Snowball now lay limply on the table. He wasn't in the mood to struggle with the dog or be bitten, and although she was normally a sweet, friendly little thing, any animal reacted differently when in pain. He
stroked Snowball's soft white fur, then swabbed antiseptic on the nasty wound to clean it before he added the stitches. His best estimate—she'd need about fifteen. She had taken quite a beating from a much larger German shepherd, no doubt coming out the loser. Just the way his daughters had from someone who was
supposed
to love them.

He swallowed, blotting the girls' early morning crying jag from his mind. At least Paige had agreed to serve as their temporary mother figure for the day. But they didn't need a
temporary
mother figure. They needed a real mother, someone who'd be there at night to hold them, someone who would cuddle them when they were sick or scared, someone who wouldn't desert them for her own selfish interests. And Paige wasn't that someone. Knowing she had a career in mind, he couldn't let them become too attached to her or raise their hopes, or they would be hurt even more.

“Dr. Blalock, call on line two.” His receptionist, Clara, poked her head in the treatment area.

“Can you take a message?” he asked threading the needle with the synthetic suture thread.

Clara frowned. “It's from the day care.”

Zeke's heart paused, then began beating frantically against his chest. What if one of the girls were hurt? He instantly dropped the needle on the table and hurried across the room. “I'll take it in here.”

Clara shut the door and he picked up the phone in the lab area. “Dr. Blalock here.”

The second it took for the woman on the other end to answer seemed like an excruciating eternity. “This is Edie Benson. I'm one of the four-year-olds' teachers.”

“Yes, Ms. Benson, is something wrong with Summer or August?” he asked impatiently.

“No, oh, no, they're fine.” She hesitated, the silence unnerving him. “But we're having some problems at school with the girls.”

“Problems? What kind of problems?”

“Well, Summer seems to get upset over little things. She cries a lot.”

Tell me something I don't know.

“And August has become quite volatile lately,” she continued. “The other day she hit another child.”

Zeke relaxed, leaning against the whitewashed walls. “Yes, I know. She told me you'd be calling. Do you really think hitting someone is that abnormal for a four-year-old?”

“Not really,” the woman said in a sympathetic voice. “Some children are naturally more aggressive than others. But lately August has been hitting a lot. And this morning she punched a little boy in the stomach. I thought it might help if you'd talk to her.”

“Now?”

“Yes, she's sitting right here.”

Zeke sighed. “Put her on.”

“Daddy, he's a big fat meanie,” August argued.

“Sweetheart, if you're upset or he's bothering you, tell your teacher. You can't go around hitting other children.”

“But it's no fair, he called me a dummy.”

“I'm sorry, honey. But you still can't hit him.” He ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. “August, sweetie, put your teacher back on the phone. We'll talk some more tonight.”

“'Kay, Daddy,” August said in a pouty voice.

Zeke sighed when he heard the teacher's voice. “Ms. Benson, August says this boy is being mean to her.”

“I know, and we've reprimanded the boy and are also calling his parents.”

“Good. I'll talk to August again tonight.”

“Thank you.” Relief lightened the middle-aged woman's voice. “She's a precious little girl. I know being a single parent isn't easy.”

Zeke's fingers encircled the handset so tightly his knuckles ached. “You think I'm not a good parent?”

“Oh, heavens, I didn't mean that,” the woman said kindly. “But parenting is hard on everyone. And sometimes when there's a change at home, children's behavior is affected.” She hesitated, then spoke softly. “I don't mean to pry, but have you considered counseling for the girls?”

Zeke's stomach clenched. “No.”

“Well, it might be worthwhile. I'm afraid this mother-daughter tea we're having may have triggered some emotions. Holidays are always difficult for kids from single parent homes, especially at first.”

Zeke swallowed, his voice thick. “Did the girls tell you my neighbor's coming today?”

“Yes, that's great. But still, Dr. Blalock, consider counseling. Some of the local churches offer support groups, as well as seminars and counseling for divorced families.”

“Fine. I'll think about it.” He rolled his shoulders to relieve the ache coiling in his neck. And he would consider counseling for the girls, he decided, as he hung up the phone. But first, he'd talk to August and see if he could understand why his sweet, darling little daughter had suddenly become a four-year-old terrorist at nursery school.