Maureen Child - His Little Secret - Double the Trouble

When he left her room, he fully intended to go straight to the kitchen. Instead, he stopped outside the twins’ bedroom. He laid one hand on the old-fashioned brass knob and felt the cool metal bite into his skin. His heartbeat jumped into a gallop and every breath came fast and shallow.

He felt the way he had the first time he’d gone paragliding in the Alps. That wild mixture of excitement, dread and sheer blind panic that made a man so grateful to be back on the ground when it was all over, he wanted to kiss the dirt. But just as on that long-ago day, there was no turning back. He had to jump off the side of that mountain. Had to take this next step into a future he never would have predicted.

Opening the door quietly, he stepped inside. Colt heard them before he saw them. Quick, soft breaths, a muffled whimper and a scooting sound as one of them shifted in their sleep. Colt scrubbed one hand across the back of his neck and walked silently across the dimly lit room. Outside, the sun was setting, casting a few last, lingering rays through a window that overlooked a tiny backyard.

Inside, there were two white cribs, angled so that the twins could see each other when they woke. There was a rocking chair in one corner of the room, shelves for toys and books, and matching dressers standing at attention against one wall. Pictures in brightly colored frames dotted the walls and at a glance, Colt could see the photos were of rainbows and parks and animals...everything that would make a baby smile.

But it was the babies he was interested in. His footsteps were quiet, and still the old wood floor creaked with his movements. But the twins didn’t react; they slept on, dreaming. Taking a deep breath, Colt steadied himself, then walked up to stand between the cribs, where he could see each of his children.

Riley wore pink pajamas and slept on her stomach, arms curled, hands beneath her, tiny behind pointed skyward. He smiled and looked at twin number two. Reid’s black hair was trimmed shorter than his sister’s. He wore pale green pajamas and slept sprawled on his back, arms and impossibly short legs spread out as though he were making a snow angel. Both of them were so beautiful, so small, so...fragile, they stole his heart in a blink.

He didn’t need a paternity test to be sure they were his. Instinctively, he knew they were his children. He felt it. There was a thread of connection sliding through him, binding him to each of them. Colt reached out his hands and curled a fist around the top rail of the matching cribs. His heart might be stone where women were concerned, but these babies had already stamped themselves on his soul. Each whispered breath tightened the invisible thread joining them and in a few short moments, Colt knew he would do anything for them.

But first, he had to deal with their mother.

* * *

Penny woke up, disoriented at first. A quick glance at her surroundings told her she was at home and she took a relieved breath, grateful to be out of the hospital.

“The twins!” Her eyes went wide as she realized that watery morning sunlight was creeping through her bedroom window. She’d slept all night. Hadn’t seen the babies since that one quick check the night before. Hadn’t heard a thing. What if they had cried out for her? How could she sleep so soundly that for the first time in eight months, she hadn’t heard them?

Pushing herself out of bed, she took two hurried steps toward the door before the pain in her abdomen slowed her movements to a more cautious speed. She went to the twins’ room and stopped in the doorway. The cribs were empty. Her heart pounded so hard against her ribs she could hardly breathe. Panic shot through her still-sleep-fogged mind.

Then she heard it.

A deep voice, Colt’s voice, sounded low, gentle, and her initial bout of panic edged away to be replaced by a wary tenderness.

Penny followed his voice, moving slowly, cautiously, through the house that had been hers for the last two years. The house that was still filled with memories from her own childhood. The house where she’d made a home for her kids.

At the kitchen doorway, she paused, unnoticed by the three people in the room. The twins were in their high chairs, slapping tiny palms against trays that held gleefully mushed scrambled eggs. Their father—Colt—sat opposite them, talking, teasing, laughing when Reid threw a small fistful of egg at him. Penny’s heart ached and throbbed. She used to dream about seeing Colt like this with the twins. Used to fantasize about what it would be like for the four of them to be a family.

And for one quick moment, she allowed herself the luxury of living in that fantasy. Of believing that somehow, the last eighteen months had been written differently. That Colt belonged here. With them. With her.

“Are you going to come in or just stand there watching?”

She jolted as he turned his head to spear her with a look. Guilt rushed through her and the fantasy died a quick, necessary death. What was the point in torturing herself, after all, when she knew that Colt didn’t want her? All he wanted was her children. And the twins, he couldn’t have.

“I didn’t think you knew I was here.”

“I can feel your disapproval from here.”

She flushed again and moved into the room. When the twins spotted her, there were squeals of welcome and her heart thrilled to it. She went first to one, then the other, planting kisses and inhaling that wonderful baby scent that clung to each of them. She took a seat close by and watched as Colt continued feeding the babies, dipping a spoon into peach yogurt again and again, distributing it between the twins, who held their mouths open like baby birds.

“You got them up and dressed,” she said, noting the fresh shirts and pants, the little socks on their tiny feet.

“You sound surprised,” he said.

“I guess I am.” In fact, she was stunned. She’d thought that Colt would be lost dealing with the twins. Instead, he had them changed and fed and was behaving as if he always started out his mornings in a three-ring circus.

He never stopped feeding the babies as he spoke. “The King family has been procreating at a phenomenal rate the last few years.” He shrugged. “You can’t go to any family gathering without someone handing you a baby who needs changing or feeding or both. So I’ve had plenty of practice. We all have. Granted, I don’t spend a lot of time with the babies...but enough to know my way around a diaper.”

True. He’d told her about all the children his cousins were having. She just had never once considered that he would have taken any interest in them. As he’d told her himself, Colt wasn’t the family type. He was more interested in risking his life than in living it.

“Still,” he mused, his voice tightening slightly, “I’ve never done it for my own kids before.” He shot her a sideways look that was hard and cold and promised a long talk in the very near future.

“Colt...” She was too tired, too achy to deal with him.

Where Colt was concerned, nothing was easy—except the passion. That had been cataclysmic from the start. From the very first moment they’d met, their eyes had locked and a chemistry like she’d never felt before had burst into life, burning away every inhibition, every ounce of logic, even her most ingrained natural defenses.

Everything she thought she knew about herself had drained away in the face of the overwhelming pull of the magnetism drawing her and Colt together. So she’d let it go. Everything she’d ever believed. Everything she’d ever promised herself. She had surrendered completely to what her body was demanding—and when it was over, when Colt walked away, she’d paid the price.

She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. So whatever he had to say to her, she would fight him. She would stand strong against that wild feeling of raw passion because she knew that it didn’t last. She’d lived it.