She could see it in the way he looked at them, in the way he talked to them. She'd heard it in his voice tonight:
And he was a good kisser.
"Oh, damn," Izzy said into her pillow. "Oh, damn."
The girls wanted to go to the beach again.
"It's Sunday," Finn argued. "All five boroughs of New York City will be at the beach on Sunday."
"But it's hot," Tansy wailed.
"Very hot," Pansy said in softer tones, but no less firmly.
Izzy was trying not to take sides. She was cutting up grapefruit sections for breakfast, staying out of Finn's way, wishing she had a good alternative to offer.
The phone rang. Finn held the receiver out to Izzy. "Guess who."
She didn't have to. She took the phone gratefully. "Hi, Sam."
"Sleep well?" he asked her.
"Oh, yes," she said, which was a lie, but she wasn't telling him that. "Wonderful. I want to thank you again for last night."
Finn slapped his coffee mug down so hard the liquid sloshed across the table. Izzy deliberately looked away, leaving it for the twins to fetch him a dishrag to mop it up with.
"My pleasure," Sam said. "What would you like to do today?"
"Oh—" Izzy fumbled "—well, actually, I promised I'd do something with the girls today."
"Again?" Sam didn't sound angry, just bewildered.
"I told Finn I'd help him keep an eye on them," she explained. "He hasn't found a nanny yet."
"My mother could find one," Sam said. "She knows everyone who knows anyone in the city. She's out in East Hampton for the week, but when she gets back—" He stopped suddenly, then said, "How about if we take the girls out for the day? In fact we can stay over and come back tomorrow. It's a huge house right on the beach. They'd love it."
"Stay over? A house on the beach?" Izzy flicked a gaze in the girls' direction. They were eating cereal at the table, but their eyes were fastened on her. At the word beach both sets of eyes widened hopefully. "Your mother wouldn't mind?"
"She'll be delighted. What do you say?"
"I'll ask the girls." She turned to them and relayed Sam's suggestion. Both of them beamed.
Then Tansy looked at her uncle, who was wringing out the rag into the sink, his back to them. "Only if Uncle Finn can come, too," she said.
Izzy saw his shoulders stiffen. Her own went rigid. He didn't turn around. She ran her tongue over her lips. "Girls, I don't know…"
"He's a great swimmer. An' you're always sayin' we should spend time with him."
Still Izzy hesitated. She waited, hoping Finn would say he couldn't. He didn't say a word. "Sam, uh," she said finally, "would it be all right if… Finn came, too? The girls would like it," she added quickly, in case he thought it was her idea.
There was a second's indecision on Sam's part, then, "It's a big house. Why not?"
Izzy looked at Finn's back. "Sam says you're welcome to come."
He turned around slowly. His gaze fixed for a moment on her, then went to the girls. They looked at him beseechingly. Finally he looked back at Izzy, then his gaze dropped. His eyes became hooded, his expression unreadable.
Finally he nodded. "All right."
It was a huge house, and in its low-slung, modern, rambling way, just as intimidating as his Fifth Avenue apartment was. So was Sam's mother.
Of course Izzy had seen Mrs. Fletcher the night she'd first gone to Sam's apartment. But then she'd only had a brief glimpse of the elegant woman. This time she met Amelia Fletcher face-to-face, was subjected to a cool, assessing perusal and was even more grateful for Finn's makeover attempt. Her instincts had been right; the old Isobel Rule would never have passed muster.
This one seemed to. The perusal probably didn't last as long as Izzy thought it did. And then a smile lit Mrs. Fletcher's face and she gave Izzy a kiss on the cheek and a welcoming hug. "At last, my dear. Sam has told me so many wonderful things about you."
I wish he'd told me anything at all about you, Izzy thought rather desperately. She said, "Good old Sam."
"And you've brought friends. How nice."
Izzy introduced them, hoping that Finn wouldn't be horrible. He hadn't said more than fifteen words on the drive out—not to her and Sam, at least. Izzy had offered to let him sit in front with Sam where he could stretch his long legs. But he'd declined.
"We'll be fine back here," he'd said, getting into the back of Sam's Lincoln with the girls. He hadn't said much else, except to the girls. He'd pointed out places as they'd passed them on the Long Island Expressway. He'd told them stories about the Dutch settlers in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Izzy had strained to hear what he was saying, but he made no attempt to pitch his voice so that she and Sam could hear. She crossed her fingers now.
She needn't have worried. Finn was every bit the gentleman when introduced to Amelia Fletcher.
"Actually," he told her, "I believe we met at Maggie Donnelson's dinner party last year."
"Why, so we did! You were the man with that tall gorgeous woman," Amelia recollected. His credentials confirmed, she beamed at him.
"Tawnee Davis," he concurred.
The Rapunzel in the office mural, Izzy remembered. The one with more curves and less clothes than any woman Izzy had ever seen. Clearly Amelia didn't know that.
"How nice that you've been looking out for Isobel."
Finn slanted Izzy a tiny, slightly mocking smile. "Wanted to keep her in one piece for Sam," he drawled.
Amelia smiled and put her hand on his arm, drawing him through the living room and toward the expanse of glass doors that gave way onto the beach. "She's fortunate to have such good friends. And you're the uncle of these two lovely little girls?" She bestowed a smile on Tansy and Pansy. "Come along, girls. I bet you'd like to go for a swim."
Tansy and Pansy went along. So did Finn. He could hardly do otherwise with Amelia gripping him by the arm.
Izzy was left alone with Sam. The minute his mother had Finn and the girls on the other side of the doors, he reached for her, drawing her into his arms. "I missed you," he said, his lips against hers, tasting, nibbling.
Izzy stiffened, then forced herself to relax, to return the nibbles, the kisses. "It was so nice of you to invite the girls along. And Finn, too, of course."
"I wasn't thrilled at the idea, but then I thought, why not? He'll keep them busy better than my mother will." He kissed her again. Harder.
"Your mother said to take the girls upstairs so they could get their swimsuits on." Finn's hard, flat voice cut into the kiss.
Izzy jumped back and spun around to see him standing perhaps ten feet away. He had a girl on either side of him. They were staring openmouthed at her and Sam.
Sam cleared his throat. "Of course. I'll show you." He gave Izzy's hand a squeeze. "I'll show you your room, too."
It was next to his, a cozy Laura Ashley counterpart to his with its English hunting lodge look. The girls' room, with French provincial furniture and thick peach-colored carpet, was down the hall on the far side. Finn's room was even beyond theirs.
"I won't be staying," Finn said. "I have to catch a train back tonight." And when they both looked at him, surprised, he said bluntly, "I have a shoot in the morning. Some of us are working stiffs."
Sam flushed slightly. "I've been working night and day for the last two and a half weeks," he said unnecessarily.
"Of course you have," Izzy put in quickly. "And I'm working right now, if you'll recall," she added, casting a glance back toward the bedroom where the girls were changing into their swimsuits. "While you're back in the city tomorrow," she told Finn, "I think you might want to ask Mrs. Strong to check those agencies and see if they have any new nanny candidates."
Sam snapped his fingers. "Don't forget to ask Mother."
Izzy didn't imagine that Amelia Fletcher would have the faintest idea about procuring a nanny. But Sam knew his mother's capabilities better than she did.
"Doro Milbank's daughter, Eliza,
just found a wonderful Iowa farm girl," Amelia said when Sam brought the subject up. They were sitting on lounge chairs overlooking the beach. Izzy was wearing a one-piece maillot in a deep blue color, specially chosen by Anita to bring out her eyes.
It seemed to be bringing out Sam's eyes and Finn's if the way they were watching her was anything to go by. Izzy, who had never before been self-conscious in a bathing suit, was now. She tried hard to concentrate on what Amelia was saying.
"I'll give Doro a ring," Sam's mother said now, and reached for the portable phone on the small wrought-iron table.
What Finn thought of having Sam's mother seeking a nanny for him wasn't immediately obvious. He was sprawled on a chaise longue, and, after giving Izzy a long appraising look when she first came out, he tipped his dark glasses down. Now his expression was hidden behind them.
Izzy wished she had a pair because she found herself annoyingly interested in looking at him.
It was ridiculous. She'd seen Finn MacCauley's bare chest before. She'd seen him in shorts. But somehow, seeing so much of him so blatantly bare was doing odd things to her insides.
Deliberately she made herself focus on Sam. But somehow Sam, equally bare, held less mystery. Her eyes strayed back.
"I think I'll go swim with the girls," she said and jumped up and ran down to the water without looking back. It was a brisk, breezy day. The waves were fairly large and beyond them she could even see whitecaps. But it didn't deter her.
A good dunking was what she needed. A bracing splash of icy water to dampen her wandering mind. At least she dared hope it would, as she ran past the girls and plunged beneath an incoming wave, relishing the shock of the cold water, then stood and shook her hair back away from her face.
Then, because it really hadn't done much at all, she struck out swimming, plunging beneath each wave, one after another, until at last she was out beyond the breakers. Treading water she turned and looked back.
She was surprised and a little dismayed at how far she'd come. She couldn't see the girls on the shore at all; they were hidden by the breakers as they rolled in. Up the beach she could see the house and Sam and his mother on the deck. At least she thought it was Sam and his mother. They were really too far away to tell. Except they were standing up, looking out to sea.
For her?
The swell of a wave obscured them momentarily from view, then it curled and broke and surfacing just this side of it was a sleek, dark head.
Finn.
His gaze fastened on her. "Swimming to Bermuda?"
"Of course not."
"Could've fooled me. And Lover Boy."
"His name is Sam."
Izzy tried to swim away from him, but his long, lazy strokes allowed him to stay abreast of her. "Why are you being so hateful to him? You weren't hateful before!"
"I'm not being hateful." His blue eyes glittered. Maybe it wasn't hate, but she didn't know what it was. He scowled briefly, then gave her a wry look. "Oh, hell, I don't know, maybe I am. He was worried about you. Thought you might drown out here."
"So he sent you after me?"
Finn shrugged. "He had a phone call." He jerked his head toward shore. "Come on. No sense hanging around out here waiting for the sharks to feed."
Izzy's eyes widened. She very nearly sank. "Sharks?"
"How should I know? I've never been out here before." He started back toward shore, not waiting for her.
Izzy did a rapid breaststroke after him. "I would have thought you'd be out here all the time, you and Tawnee Davis and all your other fast-lane friends."
He flicked her a glance over his shoulder. "Jealous?"
"No!"
He grinned. "That's what they all say."
"You are hateful," Izzy told his back.
He just laughed and kept swimming, glancing over his shoulder to check the waves. "Do you know how to body surf?"
She nodded.
"I think this is ours."
Izzy, glancing back, saw what he meant. She began stroking faster, trying to catch up to him, to get in front when the wave began to curl. And then she was, and it did, and she felt the surge of powerful water catch her, lifting her forward, then dropping her, flinging her sideways, rushing her along. Finn's body, caught too, angled into hers. They hit, tangled, grappled. Izzy felt what must have been an elbow in her stomach. She gasped, got more than a mouthful of seawater, choked and tried to battle to the surface.
Finn got his footing first and grabbed her, hauling her up into sweet, blessed air. She coughed, choked. He braced her, holding her between his legs. "Are you okay?"
She tried to nod. She kept coughing. The next incoming wave rocked her into his chest. "F-fine."
"I didn't mean to hit you." He put his arms around her and her head was pressed against his chest. She could feel the beat of his heart. Its strong, quick rhythm helped to steady ground her. She felt something else, too. Lower down. Hard and insistent. She lifted her gaze and met his.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. Then he raised his eyes and looked beyond her up toward the beach. "Here comes your savior," he said gruffly, turning her loose.
She turned to see Sam, running down the beach toward them.
Finn stepped away and turned seaward again. "I'll leave you to him."
CHAPTER EIGHT
HE COULDN'T tell himself she hadn't noticed. It was obvious from the stunned expression in her big green eyes that she had. Well, hell, what did she expect?
He was only human. He had needs, desires. Hormones, damn it.
And hanging around watching Sam mooning over Izzy and Izzy looking starry-eyed at Sam wasn't doing a damn thing for them—excepting frustrating him.
He was glad the girls were having a good time, because he sure wasn't. He could hardly wait until it was time to catch the train. Not that he felt much better about leaving them there overnight. Who knew what Sam and Izzy would be doing once Amelia and the girls had gone to bed?
Who knew?
He did, damn it. He knew exactly what he'd be doing if he was engaged to Izzy!
"You're sure you want to stay?" he said to Izzy when they all drove him to the train at six.
"Of course." She gave him a quick smile, but she didn't really meet his gaze. "As long as the girls do." She did look at them. They nodded eagerly. He scowled.
"But we wish you could stay, too, Uncle Finn," Tansy said.
"I'll take good care of them," Sam told him cheerfully. He looped his arm over Izzy's shoulders possessively and drew her against him.
It wasn't what Finn wanted to hear.
He made the best of it, told himself he'd enjoy the break—be glad for a little peace and quiet. Heaven knew he hadn't had any since the day Izzy and the girls had dropped into his life.
But his apartment seemed too big now, too silent. He got home at shortly past midnight, dropped his gear inside the door and went to get himself a beer. As he crossed the room, his footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor.
He downed the beer in two swallows and snagged another. It would help him sleep, he told himself. Not that he wasn't tired.
But once he'd taken a shower, he wandered into the master bedroom. Master, ha. It was definitely the girls' bedroom now. Their clothes and toys had taken over.
He supposed he ought to think about selling the king-size bed and getting a pair of bunks. He could move into the little bedroom once Izzy went to Sam's. He didn't like the hard lump he felt in his gut at the thought. He made himself think about the nanny he was going to have to find. He wasn't going to count on Amelia Fletcher's connections no matter what Sam said.
If he got a live-in girl, he would have to start looking for a different apartment altogether—one with three bedrooms.
He padded down the hall to the room Izzy used. She hadn't closed the blinds and there was enough light from the windows of the high-rise building at the end of the block so he could look around. He hadn't been in here since the day he'd ditched those nude photos of Tawnee in
the closet. They'd been her idea, even though he certainly hadn't been unwilling. She was a stunning woman—and definitely steamy enough to make a man's blood run thick and hot.
He pulled open the door now. The photos were still there. He could see them behind Izzy's new clothes. It was too much to hope that she hadn't taken a look. He wondered what she'd thought.
Finn felt an unwelcome warmth in his face. He shut the door and turned away.
A short row of brand-new cosmetics and lotions lined the top of her dresser. Next to it was a small framed picture.
Of Sam, no doubt. Though probably not Sam in the nude. He picked it up, tilting it so he could see it in the light from the window. He saw, not Sam, but an old man he didn't know. He had no trouble guessing who it was.
There was something of Izzy in the old man's grin. There was a mischievous look in his eyes, too—a look Finn had seen on Izzy often enough.
Would Izzy look like him when she grew old? What would Izzy be like fifty or sixty years from now? Finn rubbed his thumb over the picture. He drew a long breath, then carefully, slowly, he looked away, setting the picture back down.
The room was neat as a pin except for something wadded up in the rocker in the far corner. It was Izzy's baggiest, most wretched-looking sweatshirt. Finn picked it up, crushing it in his fingers, rubbing his cheek against the soft thick cotton. It smelled like her—that faint, tantalizing smell of spice and flowers that he'd come to realize meant Izzy was near.
But Izzy wasn't near. Izzy was in East Hampton.
With Sam.
He practically pounced on them the following night when they got home. They were barely halfway up the stairs when he came onto the landing to glare down at them. He told himself he was worried because there was a storm coming.
For almost an hour he'd been able to hear thunder in the distance and to see reflections of lightning flickering in the sky. Then, finally, above the thunder, he heard voices in the stairwell, girlish voices, and then one far more womanly.
Finn's Twins! Page 11