The Acquired Bride

“Right away.”

The next moment his door opened and super-efficient Doleen Powell walked in. Short, brunette, and wearing wire-rimmed spectacles, she was a bundle of energy. “How can I help, Quentin?”

“What would it take to coax the children into your office?” he asked.

“Food.” She glanced at her watch and nodded. “It’s after six. They’re probably hungry and tired. Can’t do anything about bedtime, but I could call for a pizza.”

“Pizza?” Lukie said, anticipation chasing the tears from his eyes.

“I like pizza,” Molly said. Kelly nodded enthusiastically.

Doleen smiled. “Do I know kids or what?”

“There will be something special in your Christmas bonus this year,” Quentin said more grateful than he could say.

“There always is, boss,” she answered. She looked at the kids. “You guys want to help me call for the pizza?” When they nodded, she held her arm out toward the door and said, “Come into my office.”

The three children ran to the door. As she ushered them through it, Doleen said, “Your mom is going to talk to Mr. McCormack for a few minutes while we have pizza in here. Is that okay with you guys?”

“Yay,” they said together just before the door closed.

Quentin looked at Dana. Tears streaked her face. Red rimmed her eyes. She sniffled loudly. And God help him, she’d never looked more beautiful. He went to her and pulled her back into his arms. Sobs shook her.

“I—I warned you not to touch me.”

“No guts no glory,” he said as lightly as he could with his heart beating like crazy. She felt so delicate, so fragile—so soft, so warm. Completely wonderful. He didn’t know how, but he knew this breakdown was not her style.

Her tears dampened the front of his blue dress shirt. “There’s never a raincoat around when you need one.”

“Not again,” she said trying to pull away.

“That was a joke, Dana. Lighten up. Cut yourself some slack. You’re a single mom. Three kids would be a handful for two parents.”

Instead of helping, his words sent her into another crying spell. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. He rubbed her back and whispered meaningless words meant to comfort and reassure.

When she was finally quiet against him, except for an occasional hiccup, he said, “Now, I think it’s time you told me what’s really going on.”

Chapter Three

Dana had never been so mortified in her life. Breaking down like that! Quentin must think she was a raving lunatic. And she couldn’t blame him. But, God help her, she didn’t want him to think that. Maybe there was a way to salvage the situation.

“What makes you think there’s something going on?” she hedged.

She backed away from him and reached into the pocket of her dress for a tissue. A mother of three always had one.

“You’re not the kind of woman who breaks down like this. It’s not your style.”

He was right. But how did he know that? She’d been with her husband over three years and he’d never realized that about her. The last time they’d talked, he’d told her to stop with the tears. A classic female manipulation, he’d called it even though he’d never seen her cry more than once or twice.

“How do you know what my style is?” she asked curiously. “After all, we barely know each other.”

“I size people up pretty quickly. The day Lukie got away from you, you were anxious and frantic. But not—” he met her gaze “—hysterical. This is not your usual unflappable style,” he said again.

He stuck his hands in the pockets of his navy pinstripe slacks as he met her gaze. Her tears had blotched his powder-blue shirt, reminding her that he’d held her while she cried. No man had ever held her while she cried. He’d been nothing but kind since they’d met. Correction, kind and sexy. And he was entitled to the same treatment—the kind part, not the sexy. It was her attraction to him that had made her words sharper than she’d intended. She didn’t want to be attracted to him, or any other man.

As much as she’d tried to tell herself that she wasn’t attracted, her body shivered, shuddered or sizzled just because he smiled, spoke or sized her up in his charming, devastating way. But that was her problem and certainly no excuse for her behavior.

He deserved an explanation. She sighed. “You’re right, Quentin. There is something wrong.”

He reached out a hand and curved his strong, lean fingers around her elbow. “Let’s sit down over here and you can tell me about it,” he said leading her to the sofa.

His touch discharged sparks of warmth through her and made her legs as weak as a newborn colt’s. With an effort, she pulled herself together. She would not humiliate herself further by collapsing at his feet.

He saw her to the leather couch and she lowered herself onto the supple cushion, then stifled a sigh of appreciation. Why should it surprise her that it was soft and comforting like everything else in his office? Like Quentin himself. It was also expensive. She’d lived with Jeff Hewitt long enough to know quality when she sat on it, and this was about as quality as it came. Thank goodness the children would be eating their pizza anywhere but here. But she completely trusted his secretary to watch over them. Probably because the woman worked for Quentin aka Sir Galahad.

She met his expectant gaze and wondered where to start her explanations. Best to jump in with both feet, she decided. She sat up straighter. “My husband’s parents are threatening legal action to take the children away from me.”

“What?” His deep voice wrapped around that one word and vibrated with anger. “Why?”

“For starters, they never approved of me. My background and upbringing was very different from their son’s. Jeff came from money and social position. I was raised in a blue-collar, working-class family. There was lots of love but not much money.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” he answered.

Dana thought a wary look flickered in his blue eyes, but then it was gone. She continued, “I’m proud of who I am, where I came from. It makes me sad that my parents didn’t live long enough to know my children. Especially since the Hewitts have never accepted me.”

“It’s their loss.”

“It’ll be mine,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Unless I can convince them to leave me and the kids alone.”

“It explains a lot. Like why you were so outspoken about the abandoned twins.”

She nodded. “I’m facing the possibility of losing my children, my life,” she whispered, “and someone just walked out on Sammy and Steffie.” She shook her head. “It’s inconceivable to me how anyone could do that. It’s been weeks, and no word—” She stopped as emotion choked her.

“I don’t understand how your in-laws could do anything.” Something flickered in his eyes as he changed the subject back to her problem. “No court in the country would take the triplets from you. You’re a loving, caring mother.”

“Thanks,” she said, his praise filling up a hollow place inside her. “But they’re wealthy. I’m afraid if they pour enough money into the fight, they can do whatever they want. I don’t have enough to hire an attorney, let alone put up more than token resistance. So far it’s just talk. But—” She stopped and caught her top lip between her teeth.

“Tell me what they’re saying.”

“That I’m a single parent with three children. That I came from nothing and that hasn’t changed.”

His mouth twisted, telling her that he disagreed with her words. “What about your husband’s life insurance?”

“There wasn’t any.” When an angry scowl took hold of his features and he opened his mouth, she held up her hand. “It’s a long, sad story. Don’t ask. The point is, I don’t have much money.”

“Lots of people raise families on limited incomes. It’s not grounds for removing the children.”

“They criticize the fact that I have to work full-time to provide for myself and the kids. Lukie and Kelly and Molly are being raised by strangers who can’t give them the time they need. Or bring them up as Hewitts should be.”