His Baby, Her Heart. Sue Swift
had improved it—Dena?—because fresh slats secured it to the big old valley oak in which it was anchored. The rope ladder that dropped from it to the lawn looked new.
Alex eyed the ladder, then his wing tips. He frowned. He didn’t want to climb up to the tree house. Although Dena had fortified it, he didn’t know if the flimsy structure could bear an adult’s weight.
“Jack? Miri!”
Silence.
But the little scamps could be hiding. He’d bet money that, on some days, their favorite sport was eluding Uncle Alex.
With a resigned sigh, Alex set his right foot into one of the lower rungs of the ladder, then skipped two as he climbed. After a few steps, he could peek into the twins’ lair.
Empty.
He turned to descend as a voice came from the screened porch. “Alex?”
His foot slipped.
“Alex, what on earth—”
His other foot tangled in the ropes, and he fell to the soft, cold grass at the bottom of the tree. Embarrassed but unhurt, he took a moment to mourn his charcoal-gray suit. He feared it had taken too much abuse to survive. No doubt it was a goner.
He raised his head. Light from inside the house streamed through the stained glass inserts in the front door, illuminating the March evening.
Dena, freshly bathed and clad in a pink chenille bathrobe, stood on the porch. He could see her wet hair in a twist at the crown of her head, with a damp curl sticking to her cheek.
The twins, in a similar clean condition, stared at him. Dena carried Miri, who wore a red robe. Jack, clad in green sweats, had climbed onto a table, presumably to get a better view of Uncle Alex making a fool of himself.
He didn’t want to admit that he’d been searching high and low for the twins. They’d obviously gone inside for their baths while he’d been lost in an erotic fantasy about their mother.
Goldie ambled over to Alex, stuck her nose into his face and chuffed in a friendly way. He caught the odor of kibble. She licked him.
Alex knelt, then stood. The seat and knees of his trousers felt damp. Probably grass-stained, as well. The elbows of his jacket were trashed. The dog had left golden hairs and saliva on his clothing.
Dena’s home, glowing in the night, beckoned him to its warmth.
Chapter Three
Alex looked disheveled, a state in which Dena had never seen him at any time during his marriage to Tamara.
“Alex, use the little bathroom here to clean up. Dinner’s in five, okay?” Dena held the front door open for him. “Kids, help me set the table.”
If I cared about Alex, I’d be really worried about him, Dena thought as she led the twins and the dog to the kitchen. Despite herself, her heart went out to the poor guy. He’s devastated by losing Tamara. Dena knew a dose of the twins would lift his spirits. Jack and Miri could test the patience of several saints, but they were sweet children who adored Alex.
Dena had worked hard to make her kitchen a cozy, homey place. A white-tiled counter separated the work space from the breakfast nook, where her family ate most meals at a big, wood farmhouse table. The twins’ artwork decorated her refrigerator. Her daughter seemed to prefer flowers, butterflies and turtles, while Jack consistently drew houses with three-person families outside the front door. He even tried to include Goldie, though without much success.
Miri went to the low, whitewashed cupboard that housed the silverware and plates. “One, two, three.” She counted blue-and-white gingham place mats. “Four, ’cuz Unka Alex is here, huh?” She put them on the table.
“That’s right, darling.” Dena turned to the refrigerator. She removed salad makings and put them on the wooden counter next to a bowl.
As Jack clattered flatware onto the table, Alex emerged from the hall. He’d washed and taken off his jacket, loosened his tie. He’d even rolled up his starched shirtsleeves, baring tanned, brawny forearms sprinkled with tiny blond hairs. They caught the light, glittering gold.
Dena’s heartbeat quickened before she looked away, reminding herself that she had no business noticing Alex’s arms. She had a legal contract with the husband of her deceased half sister. Period.
Alex sniffed. “Something smells good. Chicken?”
“Yeah.” Dena opened the lid of her Crock-Pot, releasing a steamy, aromatic cloud. She poked the contents with a knife to make sure the fowl had cooked through.
He hovered behind her, too darn close. She scented a faint whiff of his aftershave, a fresh lime fragrance, tinctured by the grass that probably still clung to his pants. His nearness was simultaneously seductive and irritating. She didn’t enjoy being crowded, but ignored her discomfort.
Peeking over her shoulder, he said, “How long did that cook?” His breath puffed on her neck.
The little hairs at her nape prickled and lifted. With a nervous gulp, she managed to focus on his question. “I started it before I left this morning. You just put everything in and it cooks all day. It’s really easy. Do you have a Crock-Pot, Alex?” She replaced the lid.
He shook his head. “Before I met Tamara, I was the fast-food king. She cooked, but made it clear I wasn’t welcome in the kitchen.”
Dena could understand that. “Your condo’s kitchen is pretty small.” He was making her crazy, his masculine presence somehow taking up all the room in her large work space.
“Can I do anything to help?”
She tried hard to overlook his engaging smile. This is Alex, Dena. You don’t like Alex, remember? “Sure. Why don’t you take care of the salad? All you need to do is rinse the vegetables and cut them into bite-size pieces.”
“Dena, I’m not a complete moron.” Chuckling, he leaned against the counter. “I can make a salad.”
She grinned. “You said you were the fast-food king. I took you literally. When did you eat your last home-cooked meal?”
“At Irina’s after the funeral.” He tore apart a lettuce.
“That was more than six months ago, for heaven’s sake. You’re overdue. Alex, I’m sorry. We should have asked you over sooner, but—”
He stopped her with an upraised hand. “It’s all right. The time just slipped away from us. Plus, I’ve been making an effort to stay busy.”
Dena tried to suck air into her suddenly tight chest.
“Oh, God, Alex, I still miss her so much.” Shaky, she braced herself against the counter.
He moved in to hug her, and amazingly, his closeness wasn’t oppressive, but just right. “Hey, none of that,” he whispered into her ear. The small hairs at her temple shifted with his breath, tickling pleasantly. “If you start, then I’ll start, and that can’t be right for the kids.”
She hugged him back, surprised by his warmth and affection. “I know.” On the other hand, she didn’t want to give her children the wrong impression of her relationship with their uncle Alex. After gently freeing herself, she walked to the table to supervise the twins, who’d watched, big-eyed.
“Miri, get the plates,” Dena said, putting a casual note in her voice. “Jack, we’re having soup tonight, so fetch me bowls, okay?” Returning to the kitchen, she unplugged the Crock-Pot and poured off the broth that had cooked with the chicken and vegetables.
Jack walked behind Alex, carrying four bowls to Dena.
“Good job, Jack.” She stroked his dark, silky hair. “You did that with both hands. That was smart.”
“What are you doing now?” Alex asked. The man