Marion Lennox - Adopted - Twins!

Like now. He was trapped two inches from her cute nose, and hell, all he wanted to do was kiss her.

‘Would you stop looking at me like a rabbit caught in a floodlight?’ she said suddenly, and there was no way he could escape the gentle mockery in her tone. Could she really know what he was thinking?

Apparently, yes. ‘Matt McKay, you are very, very cute, but you are an engaged person and I am not the least bit interested. I take the lust I’m looking at in your eyes right now as a compliment, I am exceedingly grateful for all you’ve done for me and the twins but I want nothing more from you than enough space to go to sleep. So you can stop looking at me like I’m going to lunge at your body any minute and you can go to sleep. Now!’

‘Hey, I’m not expecting anything!’

‘And neither am I,’ she said firmly. ‘So there’s nothing to stop either of us from sleeping.’ And without another word she rolled over and put her face to the wall.

He rolled over, too, which left his nose pressed against Cecil’s butt. The comparison to what he’d just been looking at was ridiculous.

And her butt was against his. There was simply no room for it not to be.

Sleep? Ha! All he could feel was her. All he could think of was her. She was so…

So right out of his league! In every single way he could think of.

As for Erin? She’d said she was going to sleep, but it wasn’t quite that easy. He was too darned close. Too darned male.

Too…too everything!

‘I am not interested in Matt McKay,’ she told herself fiercely. Not. Not. Not!

But he was the most gorgeous male she’d ever slept with in her life! That wasn’t saying much, she thought ruefully. Erin had always been so involved with her kids that men usually ran a mile, sensing that commitment with Erin meant commitment to a whole lot more.

But Matt was certainly gorgeous.

And he was so darned nice! He was so nice that she wanted to turn right over and…

‘That’s enough of that,’ she whispered into the dark. ‘Go to sleep!’

ERIN slept late. Late, that is, in cattle terms. It must have been three a.m. or later before she’d finally fallen into an uneasy slumber, she was dog tired and she was accustomed to noise. So maybe it wasn’t surprising that when she finally woke, the rest of the cattle pavilion was bustling.

As were Matt and the twins. Erin rolled sleepily over and found herself looking at ten legs. Four belonged to Cecil who was standing looking regally around as his minions worked over him. Four belonged to the twins, who, armed with a brush apiece, were intent on making Cecil look even more regal.

And two belonged to Matt.

‘Well, well. Sleepy-head’s finally decided to grace us with her consciousness. Good morning, Miss Douglas.’

‘Good…good morning.’ She brushed the sleep from her eyes and sat up, then gasped and hauled her sleeping bag up to her neck. She must have pulled the zipper down in her sleep, and her nightdress wasn’t exactly decent…

‘Have a coat,’ Matt said, and tossed a waterproof down to her, though by the glint in his eyes she knew he’d seen-and approved of what he’d seen. ‘Bathroom’s that-away, lady, but you’d better scuttle or you’ll miss breakfast.’

‘Breakfast?’ She was still befuddled by sleep and totally bewildered.

‘Pancakes at two o’clock,’ he told her, doing a sweeping circle of the pavilion until he was pointing to a barbecue at the far end. ‘Courtesy of the Country Women’s Association. But the dress code’s a bit rigid. Nightgowns with unfastened buttons don’t reach their standards.’

She gasped. Enough!

She clutched his waterproof to her while awkwardly escaping from her sleeping bag, then bolted, tinglingly aware that his eyes stayed on her until the door closed behind her.

It was a silly, happy, busy couple of hours before the Grand Parade.

Breakfast was delicious-steak and sausages for those with strong constitutions, but pancakes and honey for those with a bit more finesse. ‘Which is me,’ Erin declared, watching Matt chomp into his beef. ‘And in front of Cecil, too. Honestly, Matt, have you no sensitivity?’

‘If you think for one minute that Cecil will end up as beef steak…’

‘His cousins might.’

‘They’d have to be pretty inferior cousins.’

‘I don’t care. I’m sticking to pancakes. What about you, boys?’ And although the twins desperately wanted to be like Matt, honesty prevailed and pancakes won the day.

‘Weaklings,’ Matt declared but the boys looked up into his twinkling eyes and knew he was kidding them.

Honestly, Erin thought. For a man to get away with calling the twins weaklings-and for the twins to love it…

She could seriously fall for this man-if he wasn’t already spoken for. Or if he wasn’t rich. Or… If a million other things that weren’t going to happen!

Breakfast finished, the whole pavilion settled down to the serious business of making their animal the most magnificent. The animals left here now were all winners, but none looked as great as Cecil, Erin thought, but she knew she was biased. The four of them worked as a team, going way past the necessary preparations for a bull who’d already won champion of his class.

‘Do you think I should tie a big blue bow around his ears?’ she asked as she stood back and admired their handiwork. ‘And maybe a matching one on his tail?’

‘Over my dead body.’ Matt stood beside her and grinned. ‘I’ll have you know my bull’s a he-man and I want him to stay that way. His testosterone level would plummet at the first bow.’

‘And that would never do,’ she said mockingly. ‘A McKay male with suspect testosterone…’

‘We try to keep it above the run of the herd,’ Matt said smugly.

‘Brains or balls.’ Erin nodded sagely as she gazed at Cecil’s amazing appendages. ‘Yep, I can see the choice has been made here.’ Then, as Matt drew in his breath, she took a wise step away from him. ‘Come on, twins,’ she said, choking back laughter at the expression on Matt’s face. ‘There’s no way you can get Cecil more beautiful than he is right now. It’s time for Matt to take him out.’

‘Wait a bit.’ Matt had control of himself now-almost-and he was thinking. He was enjoying himself enormously, he thought, and the realisation was hitting home that his enjoyment was coming to an end.

It shouldn’t be. The Grand Parade here was the ultimate achievement. Already he’d had a steady stream of potential customers, national and international, pass by Cecil’s stall and assess for themselves his stud potential. In the parade, they’d be watching from the stands, making their final decision on which stud farm to choose.

Cecil moved magnificently. In the stalls he looked great, but out in the open he swayed with a majesty that had to be seen to be believed. For potential customers interested in Herefords there was now no choice, Matt knew, and he also knew his income for the next twelve months would skyrocket.

So, for Matt, the parade was the culmination of years of hard work. This was what he, his father and his grandfather had spent years achieving.

Why then, did he feel reluctant to take the rope attached to Cecil’s halter and tug the giant beast toward the parade ring?

Because this year showing Cecil and winning first prize wasn’t the highlight, he thought suddenly. It was working side by side with others; with this funny, warm and lovely woman and her two troubled charges.

This was pure novelty factor, he thought harshly, trying to bring himself back down to earth. He had no intention of working side by side with a woman. He worked alone. That was the way he’d been brought up. It was the order of things, now and forever…