Daddyhood

“Just a few neighborhood kids. Why?”

Sabrina glanced around. “No reason.” She wasn’t about to mention that little children made her nervous, at least outside her carefully controlled Play Lab. He’d enjoy the admission too much.

A warm evening breeze blew around the edge of the house, fragrant with the hint of pine that Sabrina always remembered from this time of year. In lieu of an apron, Gabe tucked a kitchen towel into the waistband of his lean-fitting jeans, then popped the lid on the grill.

“You man the buns and the mustard for me,” he said as he deftly turned the weiners he already had cooking. “Think you can handle that?”

She was sure she could, but that hadn’t been her purpose in coming. “I thought you invited me here to observe, not as slave labor,” she said with just the right degree of haughtiness in her voice.

He laughed then, a deep male sound that rumbled over her senses. “I know, and I’m sorry—but I really do need some help. This is the first kid party I’ve ever attempted. Have a heart.”

Kid parties weren’t something Sabrina was all that familiar with, either, though she didn’t want to relate the fact. She preferred encountering children in the clinical setting. There she was in charge. Here she felt…unsettled.

Or maybe it was being around Gabe Lawrence that had her feeling that way. “I’m surprised you didn’t try something a little less…intimidating the first time. Say, one or two friends, a few paper plates, a cake.”

He grinned over his shoulder at her. “What do you mean? The cake was the hardest part. Wait till you see it. Besides, this is the first real birthday I’ve had with the twins. And I…I wanted it to be special.”

Sabrina had to admire his sentiment, the fact that he was trying so hard to put on a party for his little girls. Balloons were tethered to everything stationary, and brightly colored streamers festooned the backyard trees—all his handiwork, she was certain.

She busied herself with stuffing the hot dogs into buns and then onto plates, with a dash of mustard to round them out.

“You do a pretty fair job as assistant chef,” he admitted after a while.

“Thanks—I think.”

When they had the food ready, Gabe gathered up the kids and seated them at the tables he’d set up. She and Gabe settled at one end of the patio, a little apart from the group so they could at least converse over the party noise. Didn’t children speak in a normal tone of voice? she wondered.

“If it’s not prying too much, might I ask why this is your first birthday with the twins?” she queried. She told herself she only wanted to gain perspective about the little girls—not their all-too-sexy daddy.

Gabe kept one eye on the rowdy group, the other on the pretty woman seated across from him. The evening breeze caught the ends of her burnished brown hair, playing with the strands and setting them dancing about her face. Her eyes held a bright glint of curiosity.

He wasn’t in the habit of explaining his life to people—and certainly not to women, especially ones he’d only just met—but Sabrina’s question wasn’t one he could easily dismiss. Though everything in him told him he should.

He shouldn’t want to get to know her, or her to know him. He had a full-time job just learning to be a father to the twins. This time he intended to keep his priorities in proper perspective—and that meant not involving himself with someone as tempting as Sabrina Moore.

“Their mother and I divorced when the girls were very small,” he said, deciding she could hear the truth. “Meg moved east with them—to Baltimore. I—I didn’t get to see them much after that” He knew that was entirely his fault. He could have seen them, had he not been so tied up with his own busy schedule. “Six months ago Meg was killed—a car accident—and I brought the twins here to Denver to be with me.”

“Gabe, I’m sorry. I—I didn’t know. It must have been terrible for them.”

He wasn’t sure if terrible quite summed it up. The girls had barely known him. And they’d lost their mother, their stability. He hadn’t known how to console them, and his efforts to do so had been clumsy at best.

“They’ve done some adjusting and they’ve made great strides. I’m proud of them,” he said. “I’d be lying if I didn’t admit there are still some rough times though. It’s why I wanted to have this party for them. I wanted them to celebrate with their new friends, and just be six years old, without all the pain they’ve had to get through lately.”

She didn’t say a word, just moved her hand across the table to find his.

Her touch was soft and gentle. And Gabe had the feeling she could see into his soul, knew the fear he had that he might fail his daughters, understood, too, what that would do to him.

If Gabe had any idea what was good for him, he wouldn’t allow Sabrina to come any closer.

Chapter Two (#ulink_7ba093a0-c191-5419-8186-0198e6d90d35)

Gabe inserted another candle into the pink cake frosting. “I baked this myself. Not bad for a beginner, huh?”

Sabrina glanced at the caved-in center of the cake in question, then up at him. “A few more birthdays and you’ll have it down pat.”

“You really think so?”

She gave him a slow smile. “No, but I think it’s nice that you tried. I’m sure Heather and Hannah will appreciate your efforts.”

He frowned. “So it’s not my best work. Check that drawer over there for a book of matches and I’ll light this thing.”

Sabrina slipped past him in the small kitchen and did as he asked. The man was a pushover for those two little girls, she thought. A real softy when it came to them—and she found that an admirable trait. Not that she had any business admiring his qualities.

She handed him the matches, and in minutes he had the candles lit and casting a warm glow against the pink frosting.

“Ready?” he asked, lifting the cake to carry it out to the party.

“Ready.”

“Can you handle the ice cream?”

“Almost as well as hot dog buns,” she teased back. Sabrina tried to tell herself she was not getting involved in this man’s domesticity, but she wasn’t so sure she believed it.

Before, she had always been able to keep her research impersonal. Her small subjects were just that— subjects, children she studied. She seldom involved herself with parents—and certainly not with single dads.

So how did she explain her presence here tonight?

Admittedly this was not her smartest move. And she wondered if it was Gabe, or the twins, who had been the lure.

Gabe got the birthday singing started, and by the time he set the cake in the center of the table, the song was in full swing, not to mention, off-key.

Sabrina tried unobtrusively to observe the twins. The two were competitive, both with their playmates and with each other. She suspected Gabe seldom got a moment’s peace.

Keep your focus on the siblings, not on their toohandsome father, she reminded herself sharply.

The girls made a wish, their eyes squeezed tightly shut in determination, then blew out the candles, each trying to take center stage as they did so. Her careful research that always showed one twin as the dominant child seemed to suffer in this household. Both girls had strong personalities. Like their father?

Her thoughts got interrupted when Gabe started the assembly-line process of cake slices then ice cream. She quickly picked up the carton to scoop out the cherry-vanilla treat.

“Small amount for small child, bigger amount for big child,” Gabe informed her.

She arrowed a sharp glance at him. “Thanks, but I think I can figure that out for myself.”

The two little girls were eyeing her with keen anticipation. “Can I have the first piece, Dr. S’brina?”

“No, me!” begged the other twin.

Sabrina had lost track of which child was which soon after she’d arrived, something she felt badly about. Gabe could have made this easier had he not dressed the two alike.