Triple Trouble

by Lois Faye Dyer

  “The music didn’t put her back to sleep?” Charlene asked, wondering if the little girl was coming down with something.

  Nick shrugged, his expression wry. “It might have, but she saw me when I looked in. I thought she might wake the others, so I picked her up.”

  “Ah.” Charlene nodded. She suspected Nick may have had the same reaction she’d had to hearing the music click on and used it as an excuse for a quiet moment with Jenny. “It’s hard to believe they’ll be gone tomorrow.”

  “Yeah.” His eyes turned somber. “It is.”

  “I’m going to miss them.”

  He nodded. “When all this started, I never thought I’d wish I could keep them, but somehow I do.”

  Charlene fought the onslaught of tears and lost. Despite her best efforts, her eyes filled, then overflowed with tears. They spilled down her cheeks.

  “Hey,” he said softly, moving closer, narrowing the space between them to mere inches. He cupped her face, brushing the pads of his thumbs over the tears dampening her cheeks. “Don’t cry.”

  “I can’t help it,” she managed to get out past a throat clogged with emotion. “I know I shouldn’t have grown so attached, but I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t plan to,” she shrugged helplessly. “It just happened.”

  Nick cupped her shoulders and gently urged her forward, tucking her against his chest and wrapping his arms around her. “I know,” he said soothingly, his chin resting against the crown of her head. “If it’s any comfort, I feel the same way. God knows I never thought I’d get used to having three babies around. They cause total chaos—there’s food in crazy places I can’t reach in my kitchen because they threw it there. I hate changing dirty diapers. And staggering through ten-hour workdays after a couple hours of sleep in the beginning sure as hell wasn’t fun. Despite all that, they somehow sneaked under my radar when I wasn’t looking. They’ve grown on me. I actually like the little tyrants.”

  Charlene accepted the comfort of his embrace without questioning, giving in to the need to be held. His hands moved in soothing circles on her back, the solid warmth of his body supporting her, and her sobs gradually slowed.

  She calmed. And was instantly too aware of Nick.

  The hall was nearly dark, only faintly lit by cool, silvery moonlight, filtered through the leafy tree outside the window at the far end.

  The arms that held her were warm and bare—so was the muscled chest she lay against. Her thighs were pressed against his hair-roughened ones.

  She realized with a sudden rush of heat that Nick wasn’t wearing the pajama bottoms he’d pulled on in the earlier days when the triplets often got him out of bed in the middle of the night. He was wearing boxers.

  Her clothing was just as minimal. The thin tank top she wore over cotton sleep shorts may as well have been made of air for all the barrier it provided between her skin and his.

  Her breath hitched. Her heart beat faster, driven by the slow excitement that coiled in her abdomen and spread outward to her fingers and toes. Every inch of her was much too aware that this was Nick who held her—and she wanted him.

  She heard his breathing change, felt the subtle tension in the muscled body surrounding her.

  “Charlene,” his voice rasped, deeper, huskier.

  “Yes?” She tilted her head back and looked up at him. His mouth had a sensuous fullness, his eyes slumberous between half-lowered lids.

  “You’re fired,” he said roughly.

  “What?” She blinked, disoriented.

  “I’m fresh out of self-control. And we can’t make love if you’re working for me. When we wake up in the morning, you’re hired again. But for tonight,” he brushed the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. “It’s just us.”

  “Are you sure about this?” She didn’t want a repeat of their moment in the kitchen when she’d been swept away, only to crash, bruised and hurt, when he told her he regretted kissing her.

  “I’m sure,” he muttered. “The question is, sugar, are you?’ Cause if you aren’t, you’re fast running out of time to tell me.”

  Knowing this may very well be the last night she’d spend in his house and perhaps the last time she’d have a chance to be with him, Charlene didn’t hesitate. With swift decision, she met his gaze and gave the only answer possible.

  “I’m sure.”

  Instantly he crushed her mouth under his for one fierce kiss, then bent and swung her into his arms.

  Like the hallway, his bedroom was lit by silvery moonlight. He set her on her feet, her legs slowly sliding against his, and threaded his hands through her hair, tilting her face up to kiss her again. The kiss scorched her nerve endings, the slow, thorough exploration of her mouth sending shivers of excitement through her. When he finally lifted his lips, her knees were weak. She clutched his biceps for support when he eased back, his hands settling at her waist, thumbs stroking beneath the hem of her tank top.

  “You’re wearing too many clothes,” he rasped, his voice thick with arousal.

  She licked her lips. “So are you,” she murmured, her gaze fastened on the sensual twist of his mouth as he smiled briefly.

  “I can fix that.” His hands moved, carrying her top upward and baring her torso. He pulled the cotton shirt free of her hair and tossed it behind him.

  The moonlight fell across his face, highlighting his intent expression as he stared at her, his eyes half-lidded. Charlene’s breasts swelled under his gaze, heavy and sensitive. Her knees nearly buckled when he palmed her, stroking his thumbs over the sensitive tips.

  She clung tighter, gasping when he bent his head and took her nipple in his mouth. Her head spun as he licked her, the warm, wet cavern of his mouth soothing the tender flesh.

  He slipped his hands beneath the waistband of her shorts and pushed them down and off before his arms wrapped around her to pull her flush against him.

  “Please. Please, Nick,” she murmured, nearly frantic with the need to have him closer.

  He muttered what sounded like a curse and, one-handed, shoved his boxers to the floor.

  The covers were tossed to the foot of the king-size bed and Nick lowered her to the sheet, following her down.

  His weight blanketed her from shoulders to thighs, his big body crowding hers. He levered himself up on his forearms, the hard angles of his hips tight against the softer cove of hers, and bent his head to take her mouth. She shuddered, her hands clutching his shoulders as she welcomed the urgent thrust of his tongue. Taut with excitement, she lifted to press her breasts against his chest, shifting against him, the drag of bare skin against his hard, sleek muscles ratcheting up the tension that gripped her. He kissed her mouth, chin, then trailed his lips down the curve of her throat. The warm weight of his hand settled at her waist. His thumb grazed the small hollow of her belly button. Then his fingers moved higher, over her midriff, until the backs of his fingers brushed the underside of her breast.

  The harsh intake of his breath was audible, his hard body going taut.

  Impatient, Charlene hooked one leg over his, her calf sliding over the hair-roughened back of his thigh, urging him closer.

  His mouth took hers at the same moment his hand closed over her breast and his hips rocked against hers. Heated moments later, Charlene was frantic with need.

  He shifted away from her to don protection, then nudged against her center and she wrapped her arms and legs around him, opening herself as he groaned and thrust home.

  Charlene came awake slowly, drifting upward through layers of sleep. Heat branded her back, thighs and calves. Something heavy lay across her waist. She shifted, stretching lazily, her toes brushing hair-roughened muscles.

  Her eyes popped open and she stared blankly at the bar of early morning light that lay across the end of the bed. For one baffled moment, she tried to understand why her bedspread was now a deep cobalt blue when it had been white and green last night.

  Memory washed over her and her eyes widened.

  This wasn’
t her bed—or her bedroom.

  It was Nick’s. Carefully, she turned her head on the pillow to look over her shoulder at the man sharing the bed.

  Nick’s body—his bare, naked body—was curled against hers, branding her from shoulderblades to toes. And it was his arm that lay like a possessive bar over her waist, his fingers curled loosely over her ribcage, just below her breast.

  A soft smile curved her mouth. There was such an overwhelming sense of rightness—waking with Nick wrapped around her. For several long moments she lay still, basking in the sheer pleasure and the memories of the night they’d spent making love.

  Nick was an amazing lover. She should have known he would be by that sizzling first kiss in the kitchen, she thought.

  Her gaze drifted lazily past Nick’s broad shoulder and landed on the alarm clock.

  Her eyes widened.

  Good Lord, was that the right time?

  The triplets would be awake before long and Lana and John were picking them up today. There were a million and one things to accomplish before they arrived.

  With a last lingering look at Nick’s sprawled body, Charlene slipped out of his bed. Catching up her top and sleep shorts from where they lay in a heap on the floor, she stole silently out of his room to take a shower in her own bathroom.

  “They’re here,” Nick announced, his voice carrying up the stairs.

  Charlene drew a deep breath.

  “You okay, honey?” LouAnn’s raspy voice held warm concern.

  “Yes.” Charlene glanced sideways and found the older woman’s face soft with compassion.

  “It’s not easy saying goodbye when you’ve become attached to little ones,” LouAnn said. “I’ve had to do it a time or two myself.” She picked up Jessie, balancing her on one bony hip. “I’ve never been sorry I had the experience, though, once I had a few weeks to cry my eyes out and get used to them being gone.”

  Charlene laughed. Granted, it was more of a half laugh, half sob, but LouAnn’s blunt and thoroughly practical observation was enough to get her past the emotional moment.

  “Thanks, LouAnn.”

  The older woman winked at her. “Don’t worry. I expect you’ll be having babies of your own one of these days, soon enough. I’ve seen Nick look at you, and if ever a man is head-over-heels, it’s Nick. I’d bet my last dollar on it.”

  Charlene didn’t reply, busying herself with picking up Jackie and Jenny. She didn’t want to think about what Nick did or didn’t feel—she’d spent too many hours over the last days agonizing over him. And making love last night had sent her emotions cart-wheeling out of control. She simply couldn’t think about Nick now—not if she was going to say goodbye to the triplets with any semblance of dignity.

  “There you are.” Nick met them halfway up the stairs and lifted Jenny out of her arms. “You should have waited—I’d have carried one of them downstairs.”

  “Not to worry, we managed.” She avoided his gaze and looked over his shoulder at the couple standing in the foyer. “Hello, Lana, John.”

  “Good morning,” they responded.

  A mountain of luggage, three diaper bags stuffed to overflowing and boxes with toys poking out of the top filled one corner of the foyer.

  Lana held out her arms and Jackie went happily, chattering away as her aunt listened intently and nodded.

  The interaction between the two was bittersweet for Charlene—comforting because Jackie clearly felt at home with her aunt, but saddening because she left Charlene’s arms so willingly.

  “We have some good news,” John said.

  “What’s that?” Nick asked, sitting Jenny on the floor with a stuffed green dragon.

  “Do you want to tell them, Lana?” John grinned at his wife.

  For the first time since descending the stairs, Charlene noticed Lana wore an air of suppressed excitement.

  “Yes, let me.” Lana nodded emphatically, beaming at Nick, then Charlene. “We have fabulous news. John has been offered a job at the Fortune Foundation and we’re not going back to Amarillo—we’re going to stay right here in Red Rock. And we found the loveliest house not more than a mile or so from here. So the babies won’t be going far,” she ended with a lilting laugh. “Isn’t that wonderful? I was feeling so badly, knowing we were taking them so far away from you both and you wouldn’t be able to see them regularly. But now we’ll practically be neighbors, so anytime you want to drop in and visit the girls, you can.”

  Nick looked as stunned as Charlene felt. Then he smiled, a broad grin that lit his face.

  “That’s great news.”

  “Yes, absolutely wonderful,” Charlene added.

  “This deserves a celebration,” Nick declared. “Come into the kitchen—there’s a bottle of champagne in the fridge. I promise I won’t give either of you more than a swallow or two, since you’ll be dealing with the triplets today.”

  They trooped into the kitchen, babies and all, and while Nick took out champagne and Charlene found flutes in the cupboard, Lana and John filled in the details.

  “I’ll be managing a project to establish an after-school enrichment program for underprivileged kids in San Antonio,” John said as Nick handed around flutes with the bubbling gold liquid.

  “I’m familiar with it,” Nick said. “I worked up projection figures for the costs. The proposal for services was impressive.”

  “The work is tailor-made for John,” Lana put in, clearly elated. “His primary interest has always been in programs that enhance the lives of children.”

  Nick winked at her and lifted his glass. “With the triplets in your house and heading up the Foundation’s new project, I’d say he’s hit the jackpot.”

  Laughter filled the kitchen, glasses were raised, and it was an hour later before Lana glanced at her watch.

  “Look at the time, John. I didn’t realize it was so late.” She stood, balancing Jessie on her hip. “By the time we get the girls’ things loaded, drive to the house and unload, it will be nearly time for the girls’ naps.” She tapped a forefinger on the tip of Jessie’s upturned nose. “We don’t want to start off on the wrong foot.”

  “Agreed.”

  Since the new house was so close, Nick insisted he help transport and unload the triplets’ belongings.

  Much too soon, Charlene found herself standing at the curb, waving good-bye as the two vehicles drove away down the street.

  She went inside, the silence seeming to close about her when she shut the door. She walked into the kitchen to wash the crystal flutes and return them to their shelf. After wiping down the marble countertop, she glanced once more around the kitchen and then headed upstairs.

  It was time to pack—and leave.

  Chapter Nine

  “W hat are you doing?”

  Charlene stiffened, steeling herself before she turned. Nick stood in the open doorway, frowning at her.

  “I’m packing.” She walked to the closet and slipped the little black cocktail dress off its hanger, folding it as she returned to the bed and the open suitcase.

  “I can see that,” he said impatiently. “Why?”

  She tucked the dress into the bag before she looked at him. “Because it’s easier to carry clothes in suitcases, of course.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m not sure yet.” She opened a dresser drawer, removed several T-shirts and laid them on top of the black dress. “Now that the girls are with Lana and John, my job here is finished.”

  “Yeah, I suppose it is.”

  Charlene felt her heart drop and realized she’d been holding her breath, hoping he’d tell her to stay. The scowl on his face, however, was convincing evidence that he had no interest in prolonging her time. She forced a smile. “I’ll be out of your way in another half hour and you’ll have your house to yourself again. I’m sure you’ll be glad you can return to peace and quiet,” she said as she crossed the room to fetch her toiletries from the bathroom.

  “Not likely,” he mutte
red.

  “I beg your pardon?” She paused, sure she must have misheard him.

  “I hope you’ve been comfortable here,” he gestured at the room, not directly answering her question.

  “Oh, yes.” She looked about her, knowing she would miss the way the early-morning sun shone through her window each morning, throwing a leafy pattern across the bed from the tree just outside. And she’d miss the well-planned cozy kitchen downstairs, and Nick’s state-of-the-art coffeemaker. She drew in a deep breath and managed another vague, polite smile in his direction. She didn’t look at him for fear the tears pressing behind her eyes would escape her rigid control and spill over. “You have a lovely home, Nick. Anyone would enjoy spending time here.”

  “The hell with this,” he ground out.

  Startled, Charlene switched her gaze from the suitcase to Nick and found him stalking toward her.

  “You can’t leave.” His face was taut. He caught her shoulders in his big hands and held her. “I don’t want you to leave.”

  “You don’t?” Charlene was stunned, too afraid to hope, even more afraid that she might leap to conclusions. She needed him to spell out exactly what he meant. “Why?”

  “Because I want you to marry me, live with me, have babies with me.”

  “But…” Charlene’s brain spun, trying to absorb this sudden switch. “But you said you never planned to marry. Or have children. You said you couldn’t imagine having a family—that you thought Stan and Amy were crazy to pick you to take care of their girls.”

  “I said a lot of stupid things,” Nick said with disgust. “The only reason I was a confirmed bachelor is because I hadn’t met you.”

  “Really?” Charlene’s eyes misted. “That’s a lovely thing to say.”

  “I should have said it before.” His hands tightened. “I wanted you the day I met you but I told myself all I felt was lust. And you worked for me. I’ve never crossed the line and slept with an employee.” His eyes darkened, his hands stroking down her back to settle at her waist and tug her forward to rest against him. “I couldn’t stop myself last night.”

  “Neither could I,” she admitted.