SUSAN MEIER - Mothers In A Million - A Father for Her Triplets / First Comes Baby...

She shook her head as if she thought he was teasing, then pointed at the hedge. “I’ve gotta go. See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

He pushed away from the railing, smiling to himself. She was correct. He felt odd around her because she was the first, maybe the only person in his life to know both sides of him.

But now he also knew her secret. Instead of that scaring him the way he knew it probably should, because her secret was dark and frightening and needed to be handled with care, he felt a swell of pride. She hadn’t told him her secret, but she clearly trusted him with it. He felt honored.

“Hi, Mommy.”

Missy opened her eyes and smiled down at the foot of the bed. Claire grinned at her. She never awoke after the kids. She couldn’t imagine why she’d slept so late. Except that being honest with Wyatt about her dad, and accepting the loan, had relaxed her. She didn’t have to pretend that everything was fine around him. She could be herself.

“Hey, sweetie. Want some cereal?”

Her daughter’s grin grew and she nodded.

Missy rolled out of bed. Normally she was already in shorts and a T-shirt before she went to the kitchen. Today she was so far behind she didn’t have time to change. Still, she slept in pajama pants and a tank top. There was no reason to change or even to find a robe. She sleepily padded from her bedroom in the back corner of the downstairs into the kitchen. As she got cereal from the cupboard and Claire climbed onto a chair, Lainie and Owen ambled into the kitchen. They also climbed onto chairs.

She’d barely gotten cocoa chunks cereal into three bowls and a pot of coffee on before there was a knock at her door. Without waiting for her to invite him in, Wyatt entered.

“Are you here to mooch coffee?”

He laughed. “No, but I wouldn’t say no if you’d offer me a cup.”

She motioned for him to take a seat at the table, grabbed a cup from the cupboard and poured some coffee into it for him.

When she set it in front of him, his gaze touched on her tank top, then rippled down to her pajama pants. “I guess I’m early for the van shopping.”

She stifled the warmth and pleasure that saturated her at his obvious interest. Saturday they’d decided against any kind of relationship because they wanted two different things. Yesterday, when she’d signed the line of credit papers, they’d cemented that. Even if he wanted to get involved with her—which he didn’t—she wouldn’t get involved with a man who owned the “mortgage” on her house.

“You want to go today?”

“No time like the present. My bank wire transferred the hundred grand into a new account set up for you. We can stop at the bank for you to sign the paperwork, and the money will be at your disposal immediately.”

Her attraction to him was quickly forgotten as her heart filled with joy. This was really happening. She was getting a van, a helper…She would expand her business!

“Let me call Nancy to babysit.” Missy popped out of her chair and raced back to the bedroom to get her phone. After Nancy agreed to come over, she hopped into the shower. Halfway done shampooing her hair, she realized she’d left the kids with Wyatt. Without thinking.

She trusted him .

She ducked her hair under the spray. She did trust him.

She waited for her tummy to twist or her breathing to become painful at the thought of trusting someone so easily, so completely, that she didn’t even think to ask him to mind the kids, but nothing happened.

She finished her shower, fixed her hair and slid into jeans and a blue T-shirt. In a way she was glad they’d decided on Saturday night against a relationship, because her feelings for him had nothing to do with her attraction—or his. The trust she felt for him was simple, honest. Just as she’d realized his lending her money was like something a friend would do to make up for a wrong, her leaving her kids without thought was also the act of a friend.

They were becoming friends .

Tucking her hair behind her ears, she walked into the kitchen to find Wyatt filling the sink with soapy water as her children brought their cereal bowls to him.

“How’d you get them to do that?”

“Bribery.”

Her mouth fell open. “Wyatt—”

“Relax. I promised them another trip to my grandmother’s house to look through boxes. Nothing sinister like ice cream.”

She casually walked to the table. “Ice cream isn’t a bad idea.”

He turned from the sink. “It isn’t?”

“No. There’s a nice place a mile or so out of town.” She peeked at him, testing this friendship they were forming. Though her stomach jumped a bit at how handsome he was, she reminded herself that was normal. “Maybe we could take the kids there when I get the van. You know? Use getting ice cream as a maiden voyage.”

He appeared surprised. “Sounds great.”

Nancy knocked on the door And walked into the kitchen. “I heard there’s a bunch of kids here who want to play house with me.”

The girls jumped for joy. “Yay!”

But Owen deflated.

Wyatt stooped down to talk to him. “Don’t worry. Van shopping won’t take all day. And when we get back you can do whatever you want.”

“Wook for tweasure?”

“Sure.”

Missy’s heart swelled. If they hadn’t had the talk about their relationship she’d be in serious danger of falling in love with this guy. But they had had the talk. Then he’d overheard her argument with her father. And now they were friends.

Outside, she rummaged through her purse for her SUV keys. But when she reached the driver’s side door, she noticed he hadn’t followed.

“Aren’t you sick of that beast yet?”

She laughed. “What?”

He jangled his keys. “It’s such a beautiful day. Let’s take the bike.”

Happiness bubbled in her veins. “I haven’t been on a bike since high school.”

He grabbed the thin shrub branch and pushed it aside for her. “Then it’s time.”

With a laugh, she dipped under and walked over to the garage door. He opened it and there sat his shiny black bike.

“I don’t have a helmet.”

“You can use mine.”

He handed her the helmet and straddled the bike.

She licked her suddenly dry lips. For all her fancy, happy self-talk that morning about being glad they were becoming friends, the thought of straddling the bike behind him sent shivers up her spine.

She’d danced with him. She’d kissed him. She knew the potency of his nearness.

And in spite of all that happy self-talk, she was susceptible. He was good to her. He was good to her kids. And around him she felt like a woman. Not just a mom.

She liked that feeling as much as she liked the idea of being his friend.

“Come on! Don’t be a chicken.”

Glad that he mistook her hesitancy for fear, she sucked in a breath. She could stop this just by saying she’d changed her mind and wanted to take the SUV. But then she’d miss the chance to hold him without worry he’d get the wrong impression. The chance to slide her cheek against his back. The chance to inhale his scent.

And the chance to enjoy him for a few minutes without consequences. Because, God help her, she did like him as more than a friend. He was the one who didn’t want her. And if she refused this chance to be close to him, she’d regret it.

She slid onto the bike.

He revved the engine as she plopped the helmet on her head. Within seconds they shot out of the garage and onto the quiet street. She wrapped her arms around his middle, not out of a desire to hold him, but out of sheer terror.

Then the wind caught her loose hair beneath the helmet and whooshed along her limbs. Gloriously free, she raised her arms, let them catch the breeze and yelled, “Woo hoo!”