His Little Secret: Double the Trouble

“My nightgown’s in the top drawer of the dresser.”

Nightgown.

And she’d be naked underneath it, of course. Even as he felt his body stir and tighten, he had to wonder how he could be so furious with a woman and want her so badly all at the same damn time. Still grinding his teeth, he moved to the dresser, opened the top drawer and discovered there actually was a cure for lust.

“This? Really?” he asked, holding up the most hideous nightgown he’d ever seen.

She frowned. “And what’s wrong with it?”

Shaking his head, he gave her the fire-engine-red sleep shirt that was stamped with oversized, mustard-yellow flowers and hot pink ribbons.

“Other than the fact that it looks radioactive? Not a thing,” he mused. “It’s probably great birth control. One look at you in this thing and the guy in question runs for the hills.”

“Very funny.” She snatched it from him. “It was on sale.”

“For how many years?” It was the ugliest thing he’d ever seen and he blessed her for having it. Maybe the truly fugly nightgown would help him to not think about what was under it.

“I didn’t ask you to critique my wardrobe.”

“You could ask me to burn your wardrobe,” he offered. “Or at least that part of it.”

“Could you just—” She pushed one hand through her wild, wavy fall of red hair and pushed it back over her shoulder. “Never mind. I’ll do this myself. Just...go away.”

“Stop being so stubborn.” He wanted to get this over and done with. “I’ll help you with the nightgown, but I’ll close my eyes to protect my retinas.”

She glared at him. “Are you going to help me or just make snide comments?”

“I can do both. Who says men can’t multitask?”

“God, you’re irritating.”

“Nice that you noticed.”

He was noticing plenty himself. Too much. Such as the fact that she was trembling—and it wasn’t because she was cold, or even furious. She was feeling just what he was. That raw, nerve-scraping need that had pushed them into bed together in the first place. It was something he’d never found with anyone else. Something he’d told himself many times that he just wasn’t interested in. Apparently, though, his body had missed that memo.

Frustration practically wafted off her in waves and Colt told himself he really shouldn’t be enjoying giving her a hard time so much. But he was owed some payback, right? Besides, it kept his thoughts too busy to entertain other things.

“I changed my mind. I can get undressed myself.”

“No, you can’t. Not yet, anyway.” He stepped up in front of her and when she drew back, he said, “Relax, Penny. I’ve seen it before, remember?”

God knew he remembered. Every square inch of her body was burned into his brain, despite how often he had tried to erase it. “We’re both grownups, and believe it or not, I do have some self-control. I’m not going to jump a woman just out of the hospital.”

Probably.

She whipped her hair out of her eyes to look at him. “You wouldn’t be doing that anyway.”

“Is that right?” If she knew just how hard and tight his body was at the moment, she’d be sounding a lot less confident.

Meeting his gaze, she reminded him again, “You’re the one who walked away from me, Colt. So why would you want to go back there?”

Why indeed?

Because, damn it, he’d wanted to go back there ever since the moment he’d walked away from her in Vegas. Hell, it’s one reason he had walked away from her. She made him think too much. Feel too much.

To cover his thoughts he said, “Trust me, once you’re wearing that very effective male-repellent nightgown, you’ll be safe.”

“That’s a relief.” She didn’t sound relieved, though.

“Come on, let’s get this done.” He moved closer, took the hem of her T-shirt and waited while she pulled her arms from the sleeves. Then he tugged it up and over her head. Her hair fell like red silk, settling over her shoulders. And if he kept his gaze on her hair, he’d be fine. Yeah, it was touchable but not nearly as hard to resist as the lace bra cupping her generous breasts. He drew in a shallow breath and waited while she unhooked the front clasp, then shrugged the bra off.

Modestly, she crossed her arms over her breasts, but the action was pointless. The quick look he’d gotten was enough to make him hard again, and he had the feeling that he’d better get used to that particular kind of misery.

To help himself as much as her, Colt tugged the nightgown over her head and took a step back as she pushed her arms through the sleeves and drew the hideous fabric down over her body. He’d called that nightshirt a man repellent—apparently he was immune.

She toed off her sneakers, then reached under the nightgown to unsnap her jeans. Once she’d pulled the zipper down, Colt stepped in again. “Lie back. I’ll get them off you.”

She did, but she braced herself on her elbows and kept a wary eye on him as he drew the denim down and off her long, well-toned legs. Smothering a groan, he tried not to think about those legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper. Tried not to remember the sound of her sighs or the flex of her muscles as she writhed beneath him. And he was failing.

Miserably.

“Okay,” he said, taking a deliberate step back. “Finished.”

“Thanks.” Nodding, she eased into a sitting position and tugged her nightgown down over her thighs.

Good thing, too, he told himself. Because he was on the ragged edge of control, and that edge was crumbling underneath his feet. The anger still simmering inside him didn’t seem to have an effect on the pulse of desire that kicked into high gear whenever he was close to her. Hell, the woman could still turn his body to stone without an effort.

Thankfully, his heart had turned to stone ten years ago, so that particular organ was in no danger.

“I think,” Penny said, drawing him back to the moment at hand, “I’ll just lie down for a minute or two.”

“Yeah. Good idea. Do you still drink that disgusting green tea?”

Surprise flickered in her eyes. “Yes.”

He gave a shudder but said, “I’ll make you some.”

Colt left her staring after him and got out of her bedroom as quickly as he could. No point in torturing himself, watching Penny stretch out across a bed he really wanted to join her in. Frowning at his own train of thought, he reminded himself that he and Penny were done. The only reason he was here now was to see the twins. To make sure they were safe. Being cared for.

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.