The Cowboy's Secret Twins. Carla Cassidy
He gestured to the chair in front of the desk. She sank down and tried not to be intimidated by the surroundings, by him.
“Mom said you were eager to get on the road and head home, but I wanted to talk to you about the possibility of you staying through Christmas,” he said.
“Oh, I’m not sure …” She paused as he held up a hand to stop whatever she was about to say.
“We’re forever linked now by those boys and despite the fact that we had that night together, I don’t know anything about you.”
Oh, but he did, she thought. He knew she liked to be kissed just below her ear, that if he stroked her breasts she moaned deep in the back of her throat. A whisper of longing swept through her as she remembered that night and him. She forced herself to focus on what he was saying.
“We stopped having anything to celebrate at Christmastime three years ago when my father unexpectedly died of a heart attack on Christmas Day. Since then Christmas each year has slid by with little celebration in this house. But this year we have something to celebrate. The twins. I’d like to give them a terrific first Christmas, so please tell me you’ll stay.”
Her first instinct was relief, that he wasn’t casting the boys out and that he apparently wanted to get to know them better. Still, there was one thing that made her relief short-lived. “I have to be honest. I haven’t forgotten those bullets that flew when I arrived here,” she said. “I don’t want to put Joey and James in harm’s way.” She fought against a shiver as she thought of the bullets that had come far too close to them the night before.
“I feel more comfortable with you here rather than going back outside,” he replied. “Somebody is being a nuisance, obviously attempting to make me rethink my position in running for mayor, but I won’t let any harm come to you or the children.”
She considered his words thoughtfully and believed him. There was something solid about him, a strength in his eyes that let her know he wouldn’t allow danger to come to her or her babies.
He was their father and all he was asking was for her to remain a couple more days. Surely there was no harm in that, in giving him and his mother the first Christmas with the boys.
“Okay,” she finally replied. “We’ll stay through the holiday.” She had no idea if it were the right thing to do or if it was possible she was making a terrible mistake.
A wave of satisfaction swept through Henry at her reply. From the moment she’d stepped into the study he’d smelled her, a familiar scent of fresh flowers with a hint of vanilla. It was the same fragrance she’d worn the night they’d been snowbound together and it stirred all kinds of crazy memories inside him.
As she stood and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear he remembered how soft, how silky her hair had been beneath his touch. That wasn’t all he remembered. There was the taste of her mouth open to his, the spill of her warm, full breasts into his palms and the moans that had escaped her at his every touch. Desire slammed into his stomach, hot and wild and completely unexpected.
He had no idea if he trusted her, hadn’t spent enough time with her to know if he even liked her, but that didn’t stop him from wanting a repeat of what they’d shared on that snowy night.
“Good. We’ll make it a Christmas to remember,” he said and stood.
She backed toward the doorway, as if eager to escape him. “I’m going to take the boys upstairs for their morning naps. I’ll see you later.”
“Melissa,” he said, stopping her before she could disappear from the room. “I don’t even know your last name.”
She smiled, the first real smile he’d seen from her, and the gesture lit her up from the inside out. “Monroe. Melissa Monroe.”
The minute Melissa left the study Henry leaned back in his chair and gazed thoughtfully out the window. From this vantage point he could see the carriage house in the distance. It was a two-bedroom self-contained cottage that was occasionally used as guest quarters.
Henry had been living there before his father’s death. His heart constricted as he thought about his dad. Not a day went by that Henry didn’t miss him. Big Henry, as he’d been called, had not only been father, but he’d also been friend and mentor to his only son. The two of them had worked side by side running Randolf Enterprises, which was comprised of not only the ranch but also oil wells and enormous financial holdings.
There were people in town who were threatened not only by the financial power Henry possessed, but also by his decision to run for the position of mayor and clean up the corruption he knew ran rife through the city offices of Dalhart.
He had a couple suspicions of who might have taken those shots at him, but suspicions didn’t work for an arrest. He also suspected that whoever had shot at him hadn’t really tried to kill him but rather was just warning him, hoping he’d decide not to run for mayor.
Those gunshots didn’t scare him half as much as the idea that Melissa might not allow him to be as big a part of the boys’ lives as he wanted.
“Henry?” His mother entered the study, her features worried. “Is she going to stay?” She sat in front of him in the chair that Melissa had vacated.
“She didn’t tell you?”
“I was in the kitchen speaking with Etta about dinner. Melissa took the babies and went upstairs before I got a chance to ask her.”
“She’s staying until after Christmas.” He leaned forward. “I don’t quite know what to make of her. The story she told me about some cyber friend giving her directions here sounded more than a little bit shady.”
“You think she’s after money?”
“It certainly looks like she could use it.” He frowned as he thought of the rusted old car out front, the frayed robe that had hugged her curves that morning.
Mary leaned back in her chair and folded her hands in her lap. “You want to tell me how this happened?”
Henry grinned at her. “You need a lesson in biology?”
She scowled at him. “You know what I mean, Henry. I’ve never heard you mention this woman’s name before and yet she shows up here with two babies who are obviously yours.”
“Remember the blizzard we had at the beginning of December last year? The night I couldn’t get home from Hilary’s because of the whiteout conditions?”
“That was the night you broke up with that woman.”
Henry nodded. “I was on my way home when the conditions got impossible to drive in. As I pulled over to the side of the road I saw another car there and Melissa was inside. I had no idea how bad the weather was going to get and I’d just passed the old Miller place and knew it was vacant, so I got her out of her car and we holed up there for the night.”
Mary raised a hand. “That’s all I need to know about the particulars. Is it possible she knew who you were?”
Henry pulled a hand down his lower jaw. “I don’t know. I suppose anything is possible. I’ve always been so careful. I’ve always recognized how vulnerable I was to gold diggers.”
Mary arched an eyebrow upward. “Need we mention Hilary’s name?”
Henry smiled as he thought of the woman he’d been dating and had broken up with the afternoon of the blizzard that had brought him and Melissa together.
“Hilary might be a gold digger, but she never kept that fact a secret,” he replied. Since the day of their breakup the attractive brunette hadn’t stopped waging her battle to become Mrs. Henry Randolf III. She called him or came by at least once a week in an attempt to seduce him back into her arms.
Mary straightened her back and sniffed indignantly. “That woman couldn’t wait to marry you and have me shut up in a nursing home someplace. The evil witch.”
And