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The Acquired Bride

Год написания книги
2018
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“I just want you to know that I’m keeping this investigation as quiet as I can.”

“Thanks, Tucker.”

“I’m not doing it for you. I don’t want this case compromised by publicity. If it’s the last thing I do, I will find out who those kids belong to.” His voice was laced with anger and something that felt like regret.

Then he was gone.

Quentin ran his hand through his hair. In spite of his own denials, he realized that there was a good chance the sheriff believed he had abandoned those babies. If he was ever lucky enough to have children, no way would he turn his back on them. Still, it was a good thing he’d made his donation to Hannah’s day-care center anonymously. That information, along with the rattle, would probably convince Storkville’s lawman that he was guilty beyond a doubt.

He didn’t care what Tucker Malone thought. But if Dana Hewitt heard of the suspicions regarding him, what would she think? Nothing good, he figured. And he realized he wanted her favorable opinion. He picked up the phone. One DNA test ASAP.

After hours, Quentin looked out his office window. The day had started out with a visit from the sheriff and had gone downhill from there. He was glad it was over.

He studied the lights in businesses up and down Main Street. He could almost see Bassinets & Booties from here. A vision filled his head: mahogany hair, gray eyes, full lips. Dana. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman he’d tried to forget after their first meeting.

“Mission impossible,” he said ruefully.

Since their encounter the previous evening, his thoughts of Dana had heated up. And not just because she’d baptized him with the contents of her coffee cup. He’d spent a restless night dreaming of running his hands through her hair, kissing her until they both went up in flames. His intercom buzzed, startling him.

He swiveled his chair away from the window and answered. “Yes, Doleen?”

“You have a visitor.”

He wasn’t expecting anyone. This was the way his day had started. He groaned. Not Sheriff Malone again. Since he wasn’t the babies’ father, what more could there be to talk about? His stomach knotted when he remembered his own secret. Had Tucker discovered that he was the day-care center’s anonymous benefactor?

“Who is it?” he demanded, dreading the answer.

“A woman and three adorable children,” Doleen answered, a smile in her voice.

Dana and her kids, he thought. He’d tried all day to shake his dismal mood. Now he was as excited as a teenage boy going to the prom with the most popular girl in school.

“Send them in,” he said.

A moment later, his office door opened and Lukie raced toward him. Quentin stood in front of his desk and braced himself for impact. He bent down and lifted the little guy into his arms.

“Hi, Lukie.”

“Hi, Mr. Mac.”

They grinned at each other. Then he saw Dana, standing in the doorway with Molly and Kelly. He drank in the sight of her like the plains soak up the first rain after a drought. He could hardly breathe. If anything, she grew more beautiful every time he saw her.

He looked closer and noticed that her eyes lacked their special sparkle. Her full mouth turned up in a smile of greeting, but he knew it was the generic one she used for customers at the end of a particularly long day. She seemed tired, or tense. Or both.

“Hello, Dana,” he said. Then to the two girls now clinging to her legs, “Hi, Kelly. Hi, Molly. Thanks for coming to see me.”

Shyly, they hid their faces in their mother’s red dress, but in such a way that they could peek at him.

“You remembered their names,” Dana said. This time her smile was genuine and for just a moment her eyes shone.

“Of course.” He tried to sound casual, but inside he was doing the touchdown dance at pleasing her. “Although they look so identical, I’d crash and burn if you asked me to address them by name and be correct.”

She laughed. “When they were born, I knew that would be a problem. So I came up with a cheat sheet. Molly has a small mole, or beauty mark as I refer to it, just to the right of her mouth. M for Molly and mole.”

“Clever mother,” he said.

“Thank you. One tries even if one isn’t always successful.” There was an edge to her voice that made him suspect a double meaning to her words. And another black look replaced the pleasure on her face. “But I didn’t barge in to dazzle you with my foxy maternal instincts.”

She just dazzled him with her foxy self, he thought. Then he noticed the basket in her hands and remembered her promise to make retribution for dumping coffee on him. He wanted to tell her she could dump as often as she wanted if it meant he could spend time with her. He realized that he very much wanted to do that.

“Why did you drop in and dazzle me?” he asked instead.

She smiled. “If you’ll put my son down, we’ll do our thing.”

“There you go, big guy,” he said, setting the boy on the rug.

He raced over to his mom, and Quentin realized Lukas had only one pace: light speed. Dana bent down and together they moved forward and handed him the green-cellophane-wrapped basket.

“For you,” Lukie said proudly. “Cuz me and mommy spilled.”

“Thank you.” Quentin took the basket. At the same time, he got a whiff of Dana’s fragrance and realized he could find her in a pitch-black room. The memory of her scent would haunt him forever.

The thought made him hot all over. In his shaky hands, the cellophane snapped, crackled and popped. Not unlike what was going on inside him. Could she tell? He glanced at her to see if she’d noticed.

But she was watching Lukie, who had lost interest in the peace offering. The boy had crawled under his desk and was now on the other side diddling with his computer keyboard.

“Lukie, don’t touch Mr. Mac’s things,” she warned him.

“Okay,” he said and stopped. For a moment.

“I should have left them with Hannah for a few more minutes while I made my peace offering,” she said. “But they’re there all day and I hate to leave them longer than I absolutely must.”

“I’m glad you didn’t. I like seeing them. And this is great,” Quentin said, peering at the wrapping. It was not quite transparent enough to see the contents. “But you really didn’t have to do it.”

“It’s no big deal. But do you have any idea how hard it is to come up with a contrition offering for a man who has more money than God?”

As always, his warning signals went up at the mention of his money. “It’s the thought that counts,” he said automatically.

“That’s a cliché, but I hope you really mean it,” she answered.

“Open your pwesent,” Lukie said. He raced around the desk. “Mommy and me wapped it. Me and my sisters maked cookies.”

“Way to go, buddy.” Quentin looked at the boy’s mother. “When did you have time?”

She shrugged. “They get up at the crack of dawn. We baked this morning before work and day care.”

Quentin put the basket on his desk and untied the ribbon. Inside he found cookies, muffins and peanut brittle. Nestled in the center of the baked goods there was an envelope. He opened it and found a gift certificate to the local dry cleaner.

“Perfect,” he said chuckling. He met Dana’s gaze. “Thank you.”
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