Cassidy's Kids

“The same Sloan Cassidy that you spent so many months refusing to cry over during high school?”

Trust her sister to have such an acute memory. Abby, who was an obstetrician at Maitland Maternity, was one of the smartest women Ellie had ever known.

“That’s him,” she said now, trying for a nonchalant smile. If she acted like she didn’t care, no one else would.

“What’s he want?”

“Help with his kids.”

Abby nodded, her eyes narrowing as she watched Ellie. “Your help?”

“Maybe,” Ellie answered evasively. She didn’t like the sudden light in Abby’s eyes. Didn’t trust it. Her sister might be intelligent, but she was also recently engaged and a bit loony with love.

Hoping to help Abby see sense, Ellie told her about Sloan’s divorce, his current problem, and the impossible and completely inappropriate thing he’d asked of her.

Abby smiled, straightening in the doorway. “So you’re going to help him?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Her older sister frowned. “Why not?”

“I don’t have time.” Ellie stated the obvious, leaving the less easily explained for herself. “How’s Marcie and the baby?” she asked quickly, shameless in her attempt at diversion.

It was a testimony to how much in love Abby was that she allowed herself to be diverted. “Great,” she answered with a grin. Abby had delivered her soon-to-be sister-in-law’s baby the week before. “They’re both home with Kyle, driving him crazy.”

Ellie had heard that Abby was spending all her free time at her fiancé’s house, as well. She’d never seen her sister so happy.

And as she went off to night class, she felt a little happier herself. It had taken Abby thirty-two years to find her happiness. Ellie still had lots of time.

SLOAN WAITED until the next morning to call her. But only because it took him that long to trust himself to do the right thing. He had to apologize. He’d had no business going to her—a Maitland—for help. She’d caught the fallout from a moment of weakness. And there was no excuse at all for the bullheadedness that hadn’t allowed him to accept no for an answer.

But he was done with that now.

“Ellie, it’s Sloan,” he began as soon as he heard her voice on the line. “Wait!” he said a little too loudly. “Don’t hang up, I just want to apologize.”

“Apologize?”

She sounded as though that were the last thing she’d expect from him. “For imposing on you. I had no business bothering you with my problems.”

“Apology accepted.”

If he’d been hoping she’d changed her mind, he’d been a fool. But it wouldn’t be the first time. Especially not where Miss Ellie Maitland was concerned. The woman made him crazy.

“Did you find a baby-sitter?” she asked, when he thought she’d probably hung up.

Tempted to just put an end to his misguided scheme, he almost lied to her. Almost.

“No.”

“Oh.”

There it was again. That note of longing in her voice. An echo, he was certain, of the longing he’d seen in her eyes as she’d gazed at his adorable little hellions. Not that he trusted his judgment where Ellie was concerned. He was probably making it all up.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help, Sloan, but you came to the wrong person,” she said as the silence grew too long again. “I know nothing about raising children.”

If only her excuse was valid, then maybe he’d be able to let go. If only he didn’t remember how grateful she’d been when he’d saved her from herself ten years before. If only he didn’t remember the life he’d discovered all cooped up inside her. If only he hadn’t kissed her that one time and ruined an incredible friendship…

“You’re a natural with children, El. As I recall, you spent more of your teenage years with little kids than you did with your peers.”

Sloan winced at his own words. What an incredibly asinine thing to remind her of—the fact that she’d been such a wallflower, she’d had to baby-sit to get out of the house. The worst thing was, she’d thought the fault had been hers, when, in fact, it had been exactly the opposite. The fault had been that of the ignorant and immature jerks in high school who hadn’t been able to see past the baggy clothes and glasses to the shapely body and quick mind they’d hidden.

Only Sloan had seen. And Sloan hadn’t been worthy of her incredible gifts.

Still wasn’t.

“Yeah, well,” she said after another long pause. “That was a long time ago. I’ve forgotten most of it.”

Ariel’s cup of milk hit Sloan in the head and burst open, spilling the thick white liquid down the side of his face and into the phone.

“What was that?” Ellie asked, just as Sloan cursed a blue, though whispered, streak.

“Ariel’s counterattack for my having strapped her in her high chair,” he said, as Alisha wound up, too. “No!” But as always, he was a fraction of a second too late. Alisha’s aim wasn’t quite as good. Her cup bounced off the cupboard before splashing milk all over the floor.

“I have to go, Ellie,” Sloan said, beaten, attempting to wipe the milk from his ear.

“Yes, well, bring the kids to the clinic until you get a sitter, Sloan. Beth would be happy to have them in the day care.”

“Thanks,” Sloan said, ringing off just as a soggy piece of toast hit him in the chest. He didn’t bother explaining to Ellie that he didn’t need a baby-sitter. He needed a savior.

ELLIE DECIDED TO WALK home for dinner. The ten blocks between the clinic and Maitland Drive, where she grew up, weren’t nearly enough to clear her mind, but the fresh October air invigorated her body. And the time alone was a balm.

An unfamiliar car was parked just down from Maitland Mansion’s drive. Not that Ellie minded, but she had to veer around it. Only mildly curious, she continued through the black iron gates and slowly up the drive. She hoped Jessie, their cook, had made something light for dinner. Ellie didn’t feel much like eating, and Megan was sure to notice if she just picked at her food.

Not for the first time, Ellie considered moving out, getting a place of her own.

She never would have noticed the woman partially concealed by the bushes on the west side of the four-story mansion that was her home if it hadn’t been for the rays of the setting sun reflecting off the camera lens. Chelsea Markum.

Unfortunately for the rabid reporter, Ellie was in the mood for a fight.

Creeping slowly up behind her, Ellie ran through possible options for dealing with the determined woman. And froze when she caught a glimpse of Chelsea’s prey: baby Cody was lying on a quilt in the middle of the downstairs living room, his little legs dancing in the air. Chelsea’s video camera was pointed right at him.

“No!” Ellie sprang forward without thinking—an action as unlike her as the karate chop she landed on Chelsea’s shoulder, causing the camera to slip from the startled woman’s grasp. As the camera hit the ground, the film compartment fell open, spilling the video tape onto the ground.

Ellie stepped on it.

Her “Leave him alone” came out in a whisper as she looked down at what she’d done.

Chelsea, obviously as shocked as Ellie, stared from Ellie’s face to the ground and back again, speechless. “You…you…”