Triple Trouble / A Real Live Cowboy. Judy Duarte
might be because I grind the beans. Nick has them sent from the coffee shop he used to go to in L.A.,” Melissa explained to Charlene.
“I thought it was the coffeemaker.” LouAnn leaned forward and lowered her voice to a raspy whisper. “It looks like it belongs on a space ship.”
Charlene laughed, charmed by LouAnn’s warm camaraderie.
LouAnn grinned at her, winked, and turned back to Melissa. “Now, tell me why Nick needs a nanny. I thought he was a confirmed bachelor with no interest in kids.”
“He is—and he doesn’t, or didn’t, pay attention to children,” Melissa agreed. “At least, he had no interest in children until recently. It’s a sad story, really.”
When she finished relaying a condensed version of the situation, LouAnn clucked in sympathy. “How terrible for those poor little girls. And how lucky for them—and Nick—that you were willing to step in and help,” she added, reaching across the marble countertop to pat Charlene’s hand.
“It was fate,” Melissa said firmly. “That’s what I think.”
“Three little ones—all the same age.” LouAnn shook her head. “How are you all coping?”
“Except for a serious lack of sleep, fairly well, I think.” Charlene looked at Melissa. “Sometimes it’s chaos, of course, but the girls seem to be doing okay. Jessie has an ear infection at the moment, so she’s a little cranky. But by and large, they’re very sweet little girls.”
“I can’t wait to see them. How old are they?”
“They’re a year—uh-oh.” The sound of one of the girls, chattering away upstairs floated down the stairway and into the kitchen. “I think you’re about to meet the dynamic trio.” Charlene slipped off her chair and headed for the door.
“I’m coming up with you,” LouAnn announced, joining Charlene.
Melissa brought up the rear as the three women left the kitchen.
Nick had a long list of priorities for the day, but as he backed his Porsche out of the garage and drove away, he wasn’t focusing on the work waiting for him at the Fortune Foundation. Instead, he was distracted by the memory of Charlene coping with the babies in the middle of the night.
The picture of her in the bedroom, lit only by the glow of a night-light, was seared in his memory. Her auburn hair had been rumpled from sleep, her long legs covered in soft-looking, blue-and-white pajama bottoms. Jackie had clutched the neckline of the brief little white tank top Charlene wore, pulling it down to reveal the upper curve of her breasts.
Even half-asleep, he’d been damn sure she wasn’t wearing anything under that top. He felt like a dog for looking, and hoped she hadn’t noticed.
He’d known having the beautiful redhead living in his house was bound to cause difficult moments, but he hadn’t been prepared to be blindsided by a half-naked woman when he was barely awake.
Which was stupid of me, he thought with disgust. She’s living in my house. I knew she’d be getting out of bed if one of the triplets woke during the night.
And as long as he was being brutally honest, he had to admit the pajamas she wore hadn’t come close to being blatantly suggestive. Nevertheless, Charlene’s simple pajama bottoms and tank top would stop traffic on an L.A. freeway.
Maybe he wouldn’t have felt as if he’d been hit by lightning when he saw her in those pajamas if she were a woman with fewer curves.
Or maybe, he thought with self-derision, if she’d been wearing a sack I’d still have been interested.
He knew he was completely out of line. He just didn’t know how to turn off his body’s response to her. Not only was she his employee, she was too damned young for him. His office assistant had telephoned with results of a preemployment background check before he’d left his hotel to drive to the triplets’ foster home. The report not only confirmed Charlene had a spotless employment record, it also told him she’d graduated from college only three years earlier.
A brief mental calculation told him that if she’d gone to college immediately after high school, then graduated after four or five years before working for three more years, she most likely was twenty-five or twenty-six years old.
And he was thirty-seven. Too old for her.
Unfortunately, his libido didn’t appear to be paying attention to the math.
He’d reached the office while he’d been preoccupied with the situation at home, and swung the Porsche into a parking slot. He left the car and headed for his office, determined to put thoughts of the curvy redhead at home, busy with his new instant family, out of his mind.
He quickly scanned the pink message slips the receptionist had handed him and tossed the stack on his desktop. He rang his brother Darr while he plugged in his laptop and arranged to meet him for lunch at their favorite diner, SusieMae’s. Then he closed his office door and tackled an inbox filled with documents and files.
Nick gave the waitress his and Darr’s usual lunch order and she bustled off. SusieMae’s Café was crowded, but he had a clear view of the door, and saw his brother enter.
Darr swept the comfortable interior with a quick glance, nodding at acquaintances as he crossed the room and slid into the booth across from Nick.
“Where have you been?” he demanded without preamble. “I left two messages on your machine. You never called back.”
“You didn’t say it was an emergency.” Nick shrugged out of his jacket and eyed his brother across the width of the scarred tabletop. “Was it?”
“Not exactly. I wanted to know if you’d talked to Dad or J.R. lately.”
“I haven’t.” Nick took a drink of water. “Why?”
“Because I called and neither one answered. Come to think of it,” Darr frowned at Nick, “none of you called me back.”
Nick grinned. “Probably because we all assumed you were too busy with Bethany to care if we called you or not.”
“Huh,” Darr grumbled.
Nick noticed his younger brother didn’t deny the charge.
“How’s Bethany doing?” he asked. He felt distinctly protective toward the petite, pregnant blonde, especially since Darr was in love with her. When the two married, she’d become Nick’s sister-in-law. As far as he was concerned, Bethany Burdett was a welcome addition to their all-male family.
“Good.” Darr leaned back to let their waitress set plates and coffee mugs on the tabletop in front of them. “She’s good.”
Nick didn’t miss the softening of his brother’s face. He was glad Darr had found a good woman. Bethany made him happy, and he seemed content in a way Nick hadn’t seen before.
“You didn’t answer my question, where have you been?”
Nick waited until the waitress left before he spoke. “I made a trip to Amarillo. I’ve been pretty busy since I got back.”
“Yeah? What were you doing in Amarillo?” Darr took a bite of his sandwich, eyeing Nick over the top of a double-decker bacon-and-tomato on wheat.
“I picked up Stan’s kids.” Nick saw Darr’s eyes widen. “Three of them,” he added, smiling slightly at the shock on his brother’s face. “They’re all girls—only a year old. Triplets.”
Darr choked, set down his sandwich, grabbed his coffee and washed down the bite in record time. “What the hell? Why? What happened?”
Nick lost any amusement he’d felt at his brother’s dumfounded expression. “He and Amy were in a car accident—neither one of them made it out alive.” Saying the words aloud didn’t make the truth any