The Acquired Bride

“Hi, Lukie.” She looked back at Quentin and shrugged. “See what I mean? His sisters have the same problem.”

“They’re all three?” he asked, surveying the children, who were about the same size. Stunned, he watched her nod. “You must be from Storkville,” he said, shaking his head.

“You mean because the stork who visits Storkville bestows many bouncing bundles on those whose love is boundless?” she asked, her gray eyes twinkling.

“That’s the legend,” he concurred.

“I think the stork had a navigational malfunction that day because he visited me in Omaha. And—” she glanced at the three children with infinite love “—I don’t know if he bestowed bouncing bundles as much as the triple whammy.”

“My exact thought,” he said, remembering his close encounter of the gooey kind. “But not about children. Cotton candy, red punch and chocolate is an awful lot of junk food for a little guy like this,” Quentin commented. “Not to mention the fact that he’s running around unsupervised, Mrs.—”

Her eyes suddenly reminded him of a sky on a stormy day and he braced himself for a zap of bad lightning.

“Dana Hewitt,” she said introducing herself. “I’m aware that a three-year-old needs supervision, Mr.—”

“McCormack. Quentin McCormack.”

If possible, she looked even more annoyed. “Of the McCormacks, Storkville’s founding family?”

“The very same.” So she knew who he was and that he didn’t have to wonder where his next dollar was coming from.

“Great,” she muttered. Then her chin lifted slightly, reinforcing her defensive body language. “Do you have children, Mr. McCormack?”

“I’m not married,” he said.

“That’s not what I asked. Your marital status doesn’t preclude fathering children.”

“For me it does. I would never be that irresponsible.” He met her gaze and realized that she barely came up to his chin. He was six feet tall, which made her—really small.

“Have you ever heard the saying ‘Never judge a man—or woman, until you’ve walked in their shoes’?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Here’s another one. When you have triplets, we’ll talk.” She reclaimed the hands of her two still-sniffling girls. “Not that it’s any of your business, but each of the children was allowed to choose one treat. While I was paying for them, Lukie grabbed his and the girls’ too and took off while my back was turned.”

“I see.” What he didn’t see was where her husband fit into all this. Why wasn’t he with her to help corral three small children? “I didn’t mean to judge. You’re right. I haven’t a clue how to deal with one child, let alone three the same age. Sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” she said. When she looked at her son, her anger faded and a different sort of look suffused her features, an expression that was both mad and tender. “You are in a lot of trouble, young man. Never, ever run off like that,” she said again.

“Wanted a b’loon,” the child said, his bottom lip slightly thrust out. “No time out, Mommy.” He shook his head and backed up into Quentin’s leg.

“I know you wanted a balloon. But we can’t always have everything we want when we want it. Especially on our budget.”

One of the little girls looked tearfully up at Dana. “Mommy, make Wookie give me my cotton candy.”

“Me, too,” the other girl chimed in.

“Taking your sisters’ treats…” Dana heaved an exasperated sigh and shook her head at her son. “Your attention span isn’t long enough for the time out you deserve. Give Molly back her cotton candy and Kelly her chocolate.” She looked closer and for the first time seemed to notice his empty hands. “You couldn’t have eaten all of that so fast. The spirit is more than willing, but the tummy is way too small.”

Quentin saw the exact moment when she started to put together what happened. Her gaze went to her son’s sticky empty hands, then to the circle of goo surrounding his own Italian leather loafers, then finally up to his designer pant legs that were now so stiff they could stand up by themselves.

Her eyes and mouth opened wide and rounded into Os. “Good heavens,” she said. “Please tell me, my son didn’t do that to you.”

“Don’t worry about it. Accidents happen.”

“Oh, Lukie, tell Mr. McCormack sorry.”

The boy looked up at him. “Sorry, Mr. Mac.”

“It’s okay, pal,” he said, ruffling the boy’s hair.

“It’s Mr. McCormack,” she corrected her son.

“That’s a pretty big mouthful,” he said. “Mac’s fine.”

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am about this Mr. Mc—”

“Please call me Quentin.”

“All right, Quentin,” she said. “I insist you let me have your trousers cleaned for you.”

“That’s a tough one. Unless you want me to drop ’em right here in front of God and everyone on Main Street.”

She blushed and the look went straight to his heart, infiltrating his defenses without firing a shot. Of course it didn’t hurt that she had a sweet smile, with full, sensuous lips, and curls around her face that looked as if a man had run his hands through her hair while kissing her senseless. The combination was his second triple whammy in the last five minutes.

She shook her head. “No, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t drop your pants right here. I want to do the right thing, but something tells me a public display of that nature would be stickier than the puddle at your feet.”

“I agree,” he said grinning. He had a feeling his smile was way too wide, but maybe it would hide his reaction to her.

“But I insist you send me the cleaning bill.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“But how can I repay you for this?” she asked.

“You can answer a question for me.”

“All right,” she agreed.

“What kind of establishment is Bad Nets and Boots?”

“Excuse me?” She looked at him blankly.

“Lukas told me that’s where you work.”

She laughed, a merry sound that knocked on the door closing off his heart. Avoiding emotional entanglements was his stock in trade. He’d learned that women were more interested in his checkbook balance than in the man who signed the checks.

“I manage a store here in town. It’s called Bassinets and Booties,” she explained.