Daddyhood

When the twins disappeared down the hallway, she turned to Gabe. “Want me to give you a hand with this party mess?” The kitchen could only be termed a disaster. The patio was not much better.

“Not on your life. I’ll deal with the mess later. You’ve helped out enough this evening, considering I got you here under false pretenses.”

He had done that, Sabrina thought. Baited her into it. “I think you made your point effectively tonight,” she said quietly.

He arched a brow. “And what point is that?”

She gave a slow smile. “That possibly I don’t know all there is to know about twins.” At least his twins. “You’ve seemed to jump into this with both feet, theories be damned.”

His eyebrow arched higher. “Is that a concession speech I hear?”

“Don’t push your luck, Gabe Lawrence!”

He chuckled long and hard. “Come on, let’s get away from this party mess. Care for a cold beer to wash down the taste of pink birthday punch?”

She shook her head. “Thanks, but no.”

“Wine? I have a chilled bottle.”

Sabrina didn’t intend to stay that long. “Nothing. Thank you.”

“Suit yourself.”

He led her into the living room she’d glimpsed when she’d arrived. Here, at least, was relative neatness, an orderliness that was a sharp counterpoint to the chaos in his kitchen.

Sabrina turned around, taking in the room.

She read a definite male influence in the navy plaid sofa and two overstuffed chairs that looked comfy enough to sink into. A fireplace of red brick stood at the far end. She could picture Gabe here, reading a book to his daughters before a cheery blaze.

It was an image she liked.

Walking over to the mantel she picked up a framed photograph of the twins. “At the risk of hearing you hoot with laughter once again, explain to me how you tell the two apart.”

To his credit he only gave one small—and shortlived—smirk. He folded his arms over his chest and came to stand next to her, so close, she could feel the heat of him, smell the clean male scent of his aftershave. This near she could see there were silver flecks that danced in the deep blue of his eyes. His mouth had a sensual fullness that tugged at her senses. She suspected his kiss would be hot, not tempered with restraint. He was a man who would demand much of a woman—everything from her.

He reached for the picture and their hands brushed. His touch was warm, dangerous. “It’s easy, once you know how,” he said.

“Easy?”

“Hannah has a little quirk to her smile. See?” He pointed to the picture.

Sabrina studied the pose and saw what he meant.

It was a smile she’d seen before—on Gabe. She wondered if he was aware of the similarity he shared with his daughter.

“And when the twins aren’t smiling, what then?” she asked.

“I try to keep this a…happy little family.”

A hint of laughter lit his eyes. In the soft livingroom light they radiated intelligence, a perception of who he was and what he wanted from life. He would command a woman’s soul, as well as her heart, Sabrina thought.

The realization crossed her mind that she needed to beware.

He set the picture back on the oak mantel. “Once you get to know the twins, you’ll find other differences. Hannah’s laughter is bright, Heather’s a little slower in coming. Hannah tilts her head to the right when she’s listening to you. Heather tucks one foot behind the other when she’s feeling a little… uncertain.”

The two had only recently lost their mother. Yes, they would be a little hesitant, a little uncertain, Sabrina thought. But she suspected Gabe Lawrence was a good dad, though she had the feeling he didn’t always consider himself to be. She felt, also, that she’d gotten a rare glimpse of the girls through their father’s eyes.

Just then Hannah and Heather bounded into the room, pajamas on, faces scrubbed. One—Heather, judging by the hesitant smile—still had her hair bow in. Gabe unclipped it and tousled her hair.

Was it her professional eye that made her so aware of the relationship this small family shared with each other? For a moment she felt a pang of something akin to jealousy. Once upon a time she’d wanted this for herself. Her career, a husband, children. That was until her marriage to Phillip fell apart.

Stick with what you do best, Sabrina, she told herself.

“Will you read us a story from the new book Dad gave us for our birthday?” Heather asked.

Sabrina caught the little girl’s gesture just as Gabe had described it—one foot tucked behind the other, uncertainty evident on her small, cherubic face.

Life had taught Sabrina to go slowly into relationships—or stay away from them altogether—but Gabe’s twin daughters tugged at her resolve, and a few heartstrings, drawing her where she was afraid to go.

“If it’s all right with your dad, just a short one,” she said and glanced from Heather to her father, who was leaning a shoulder against the mantel, amusement lining his face.

He thought she couldn’t do this—and he was enjoying it. His laughing eyes challenged her, much the way he’d challenged her theories yesterday afternoon.

But Sabrina intended to show him she was made of sterner stuff.

Well, what had Gabe expected!

The two little girls had taken to Sabrina like ducks to water. The woman with all the answers—or so she thought.

He paced up and down the living room, hands jammed into his pockets, feeling very much like his little experiment of the night had backfired on him, blown up in his face. He’d wanted to show the lady psychologist up for the fraud that she was. But Sabrina had been a good sport.

She’d held her own all evening. Even reading a bedtime story to his little girls.

But did she have to be so all-fired lovely in the bargain? So tempting? He was certain she would have him thumping his pillow, the vision of those sultry eyes and that wide, sensual smile of hers playing on the inside of his eyelids until the first light of day.

From the twins’ bedroom he heard the lilt of her voice. Not the words, but the rhythmic cadence, occasionally her soft laugh. He had the feeling that reading to two little girls was a first for the standoffish Dr. Moore.

He’d caught her looking overwhelmed more than once during the evening. As if out of her element. Not that he couldn’t feel a moment of sympathy for her. He could.

After all, this whole parent thing was still very new to him.

Which was exactly why he didn’t need one pretty woman muddling his life, he thought with a groan. And he had the feeling that Sabrina Moore could do just that, given half a chance.

“Gabe.”

He stopped his pacing and spun around to meet Sabrina’s green-eyed gaze.

The soft light played around her face, dancing across her high cheekbones that were brushed with a faint hint of peach. Her lips glowed with the same peach hue. He stared, fascinated, as she nervously moistened them with the tip of her tongue.