Finn's Twins!

by Anne McAllister

  He flung open the door. "It's about time," he fumed. He stomped down to grab the duffel Izzy was carrying, then eased past her, careful not to touch, and took the girls' things, as well. They gave him tired grateful smiles.

  Izzy stopped inside the door and waited for him. "Another curfew?" she said, her mildness a rebuke to his irritation.

  "I was worried about the girls." He wasn't going to mention having been envisioning Izzy's own body smashed and bloody on the damned highway.

  "There were lots of people coming back to the city. It was like a surge of lemmings. We got a late start."

  "Where's Lover Boy? Did he drop you at the corner?" He knew he was being a jerk. He couldn't help it.

  Izzy's eyes widened at his tone, but hers remained even. "I told him not to come up. He has some work to get done before a meeting tomorrow morning."

  "Goody for him." Finn kicked the door shut.

  "You're in a jolly mood."

  He headed toward the stairs with their bags. "I've got things on my mind. I didn't need to be worrying about them." About you.

  "You needn't have," she said shortly. "They were in good hands and you know it."

  Finn grunted. He slung the girls' bags onto their bed, then carried Izzy's down the short hallway to her room and dropped it inside the door. His gaze flicked toward the bed for just an instant, then he looked away.

  He didn't want to remember waking up there this morning, alone—with Izzy's ratty old sweatshirt in his arms.

  "I have to be out of town tomorrow," he said abrupt­ly. "I'm doing a location shoot in Bucks County. I trust that won't cramp your style?"

  "No problem." Izzy slipped past him into the room. She went to the window and shut it against the rain that had just begun. "I didn't think I left that open," she remarked, then went on, "we'll be fine."

  Finn grunted a reply. Damn, why hadn't he remem­bered to shut the window?

  "I have the names of three girls that Sam's mother gave me." Izzy said, looking over her shoulder at him. "I'll give them a call and do a preliminary interview while you're gone. How does that sound?"

  It sounded like she could barely wait to get out of his clutches. "Whatever you want." He turned on his heel and stalked down the hall, going to bang on the bathroom door where the twins were running bathwater and giggling. "Come on, ladies, hurry it up in there. You need to get to bed sometime tonight!"

  Izzy had arousal on her mind. Her arousal.

  And Finn's.

  She wasn't such an innocent that she didn't know arousal when she'd felt it pressed hard against her yes­terday afternoon on the beach. But, by the same token, she wasn't so naive that she thought it had anything to do with her in particular. And thank God for that.

  She was, after all, engaged to Sam! No, it was simply a matter of proximity and the heat of the moment. Finn certainly wasn't in love with her. Sometimes she didn't even think he liked her very much!

  She wasn't sure exactly what she felt about him. She sighed and folded her arms beneath her head, giving up on trying to sleep for the present. The rain had stopped, the earlier storm had gone, but once more she could see a flicker of white light in the western sky. A new storm was already on its way. But it was nothing compared to the turbulence she felt within. It was well past midnight and her mind still hadn't stopped plaguing her with memories of how Finn's body had felt pressed against hers.

  She had spent all last evening and all today concen­trating on Sam—talking to Sam, laughing with Sam, swimming and walking with Sam.

  And yet somehow while focusing on Sam, she'd been aware of how like her uncle Finn's Tansy's grin was, and how like her uncle's was Pansy's thoughtful frown.

  She'd tried not to think about him. He was safely back in the city, doing his job—and she was where she ought to be. She had no business thinking about another man, no business watching his every move, and no business at all permitting her body to respond to the excitement she perceived in his!

  It would be all for the best if one of the girls Amelia's friend recommended was able to take on the girls. Soon.

  Finn seemed in no hurry to move things along, but she was. And why should he be when he'd done his part? No, it was up to her. She would start making calls first thing in the morning. Tansy and Pansy needed to be getting settled into their new life.

  And goodness knew, Izzy needed to be getting on with hers.

  At least the two days in East Hampton had been a success. Amelia Fletcher wasn't nearly as intimidating up close as she had been when Izzy had glimpsed her the first time. Still she was all that was elegant and refined, no doubt about that; so Izzy was glad she'd agreed to Finn's deal. Her new haircut and clothes, which Amelia had taken for granted, had definitely eased her acceptance into Sam's world. She supposed that Amelia might have welcomed her as a daughter-in-law-to-be anyway, but Izzy was glad she hadn't put it to the test. She wanted to make life easier for Sam, not harder. Sam.

  Dear, sweet lovable Sam.

  How easy he was to please. How undemanding. How unlike Finn MacCauley.

  And there she was, thinking about him again!

  Izzy pounded her pillow. She rolled over and shut her eyes—and saw for the thousandth time the wave she'd caught with Finn, felt once more the press of his body against hers.

  Damn it! She leapt out of bed and went to stand at the window, opening it and taking great lungsful of humid, sticky city air. It was a measure of the content of her thoughts that she considered the air purer than the desires buffeting her body.

  A movement on the terrace below caught her attention.

  Finn, with his back to her and his hands braced on the flower boxes that lined the perimeter, stood staring up at the sky. His head was tipped back, his dark hair a swath of midnight in the flickers of lightning. All he wore was a pair of low-slung jeans and she could just make out the strong column of his spine and the breadth of his bare shoulders. He looked untamed, wild. Like a wolf in a clearing even though he stood in the middle of one of the biggest cities in the world.

  Izzy's fingers tightened on the window ledge. She didn't move, just looked. All at once a sharp flash of lightning chopped through the sky, startling her. "Oh!"

  Finn jerked, then turned and looked up.

  Their gazes met, locked. His jaw was tight, his ex­pression stark. His chest rose and fell quickly, his whole body seemed poised to move, to reach for her. He didn't.

  She only wished he would.

  Frantic at the direction of her thoughts, Izzy pulled back and slammed the window shut.

  He was gone when she got up. She didn't know if he'd left early because he had to travel to Pennsylvania or if he simply needed to get away. She didn't question it. She was only relieved.

  "When's he coming back?" Pansy asked.

  "Tonight, I imagine," Izzy said, pouring them bowls of breakfast cereal. Hours from now. But even if it was days, it wouldn't be long enough.

  As soon as they'd finished eating, she called the names on the list Amelia had given her. The first girl had already taken a job the previous week. The second agreed to come and talk to them later that morning. The last would come in the afternoon.

  "Do we have to pick one of them?" Tansy asked Izzy worriedly.

  "Not if you don't like them."

  "We won't," both girls said flatly.

  "You might." She dared to hope.

  "Not as good as you. Why can't you stay?" Pansy asked.

  "Because of Sam, you know that. And—"

  "You don't got to marry Sam," Tansy said. "You could marry Uncle Finn. You kissed him."

  "It…was a mistake." Izzy felt her face burn. "Besides, he doesn't want to marry me. We're not in love with each other. You marry the person you love," she said firmly.

  "Does Mommy love Roger?"

  "I think she must," she said carefully. "Otherwise she wouldn't have gone with him, would she?"

  "Guess not. But Uncle Finn said she loves us, too," Pansy said. "Even though she left us."


  "Because she wanted what was best for you. And she thought that would be living with your uncle Finn."

  "Be best yet if we lived with you, too," Tansy said stubbornly.

  "I'm sure there is a lovely girl looking for a nanny job who will be just right for you, too."

  "Maybe," Tansy said dubiously.

  "Doubt it," Pansy said under her breath.

  But the first girl who arrived surprised them both. Her name was Rorie. She had grown up in a small town in Oklahoma, and though she'd been in the city for two years, she still had a bright, fresh enthusiasm and a country-bred openness that immediately caught both Tansy and Pansy's attention, not to mention Izzy's.

  Best of all, she'd been a lifeguard at the local swimming pool in high school, so she shared Tansy's zeal for the water, and she liked to draw. Her last job had ended when the family she was working for had gone abroad for three years. She needed to find something soon, she said, or she would be going back to Oklahoma.

  "What do you think?" Izzy asked the girls when Rorie had departed.

  "She's okay," Tansy said cautiously, but she didn't look as doubtful as she sounded.

  "Maybe," Pansy agreed. "But I'd still rather have you."

  The second girl didn't hold a candle to Rorie.

  "She'd have been more interesting with a ring in her nose," Tansy offered after she left. Pansy didn't say anything at all.

  "So shall we ask your uncle to interview Rorie?" Izzy pressed.

  They shrugged. "Guess so."

  Izzy hoped Finn would like Rorie. She wouldn't feel bad about leaving the girls with her. She'd miss them. But she could come and see them. They could spend weekends with her and Sam sometimes, give Finn a break, let him take out one of his jet-setting girl friends. That was a good idea, wasn't it?

  When she asked Sam about it that evening when he came to take them out to dinner, he said, "Sure. Don't see why not."

  So everything was fine. Perfect. Rorie would come. Izzy could go. Sam would be happy. So would Finn. So would she. It would all work out to everyone's best ad­vantage. So why, knowing this, did Izzy feel so unsettled? So irritable? Why was her stomach twisting? Why were her hands clenching into fists?

  Because Finn was so late getting home, that was all.

  It was past ten and there was still no sign of him. She and Sam had put the girls to bed, then they'd adjourned downstairs to sit on the sofa beneath Finn's huge wildlife photos and listen to CDs. Sam had put on something soft and instrumental. Romantic. He'd drawn her into his arms and nuzzled her cheek.

  "How about a cup of coffee?" Izzy said, twisting away.

  "No, thanks." Sam drew her closer, snuggling her in the curve of his arm. His lips brushed her temple. She could feel his breath against her cheek.

  "Tea?" she suggested. "I'm thirsty." She slipped out of his grasp and shot to her feet, heading for the kitchen.

  Sam hauled himself up and followed her. She filled the kettle, set it on the burner, wiped up a nonexistent spill, straightened the towel on the rack. Sam leaned against the refrigerator, watching her. The soft moody sound of a saxophone drifted through the room. Izzy got a cup down out of the cupboard and turned to Sam. "Sure you won't have one?"

  He sighed. "All right."

  She made the tea. They carried it back into the living area and sat down on the sofa. Sam sat at one end. Izzy sat at the other. He moved closer. She had nowhere to go.

  They drank their tea. Sam watched her. She looked at him, then away. When they finished at last, Izzy still hung onto her cup, carrying it to her lips every few minutes, hiding behind it, avoiding the hungry look in Sam's eyes. Finally he reached out and took the cup from her, setting it on the table. Then he leaned forward and touched his lips to hers. Izzy held absolutely still. Didn't move. Didn't even breathe.

  Sam came closer, raised his arms and slipped them around her. His lips still clung to hers. His eyes started to close. Izzy's flew open at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. She leapt to her feet, knocking Sam away. "He's coming!"

  Sam, rocked back, looked at her, befuddled. "Who?"

  "Finn!"

  "So?" He reached for her hand. "I doubt if he'd be shocked. I think he's seen people kiss before."

  Izzy shook him off. "I know that." She folded her arms across her breasts. "I just…don't want him walking in on us."

  Sam looked like he might have protested, but the door opened. Finn came in. He looked first at Sam on the sofa, then at Izzy, who was heading for the kitchen with the teacups in her hands. He didn't say anything.

  "Water's almost hot. I can reheat it in just a minute if you want some tea?" Izzy said brightly.

  Finn looked at Sam, who was raking his fingers through his hair and scowling.

  "How about you, Sam? Another cup?" Izzy went on, moving to turn on the kettle again.

  "It isn't tea I want right now," Sam said flatly, his eyes fastened on her.

  There was no question at all what he did want. Izzy could see that from the look in them. She knew Finn saw it, too. She went red.

  "I found the perfect girl for you. Nanny, I mean," she said to Finn. "The twins like her a lot already. She's the answer to your prayers."

  Finn didn't say a word. A muscle ticked in his cheek.

  "Her name is Rorie. She's from Oklahoma. She swims. She was a lifeguard, in fact. And she draws and paints. I set up an interview for you at the end of the week." She was babbling, but she couldn't help it.

  "Cancel it."

  "What? Why?" Izzy stared at him.

  "I have a shoot out of town starting Thursday. For a week. In Jackson Hole, Wyoming."

  "A week? In Jackson Hole?" Izzy digested that. "No problem. Is there, Sam?" she said brightly. "You don't mind if I stay one more week, do you? You can even help me."

  "No," Finn said before Sam could open his mouth.

  Izzy stared. "What do you mean, no? Of course he can. He's wonderful with the girls."

  Finn shrugged, as if it didn't matter. "You're not staying here. You're all coming with me."

  CHAPTER NINE

  SHE should have said no.

  She should have firmly, flatly, definitely turned Finn down. She should have said that under no circumstances was she going to go traipsing off to Wyoming with him and the girls, leaving Sam—her fiancé, for goodness sake—behind when she'd waited so long for them to be together.

  But the word hadn't come.

  She'd stood there, openmouthed and astonished, and let him bulldoze her into it.

  She was a fool.

  She told herself that time and again over the next three days. But she didn't back out. The only thing she did manage was to get him to agree to interview Rorie before they left.

  She was hired—for when they got back, he said flatly. Not before.

  Thursday morning bright and early, she and Finn and the girls got on a plane.

  It was only for a week, Izzy rationalized. It would be easier on the girls if she was there. She could talk to them about how to make things go well with Rorie. She could give them advice on dealing with their cranky uncle—as if she knew!

  She could spend one last week with Finn.

  It was there, in the back of her mind. Unvoiced. Un­acknowledged. Unwise in the extreme. But Izzy couldn't help that.

  Maybe it would help her get over him. Give her such a dose of Finn MacCauley that she would go off him for good.

  She dared to hope.

  But then, she was a fool.

  In her naiveté, Izzy had supposed that Jackson Hole would be set in a sort of deep narrow hole surrounded by mountains. She got the mountain part right, but the town was in fact in a rather broad flat valley with the Tetons on one side and another less imposing-looking range of mountains on the other, though the town proper did bump up against a couple of rather steep hills on its edges.

  Izzy wouldn't have called it a hole. But whatever else it was, the town was lovely, with its small square sur­rounded by upscale shops selling
everything from finely woven Navajo rugs to moose-shaped cookie cutters to designer original dresses. Its covered boardwalks lent an Old West veneer to its increasingly yuppie core. But Izzy discovered that even though she couldn't afford a lot of what the very exclusive shops had to offer, there was a bit of real working west in Jackson Hole still to be found underneath.

  She saw it in the hardware stores where men in dusty jeans bought rolls of baling wire, in the saddle shop where fancy tooled leather rigs were outnumbered by no-nonsense working cowboys' saddles, and in the sub­stantial wholesome food dished up at the mom-and-pop café where she took the girls for lunch the first day while Finn was, in his words, "reconnoitering," looking for suitable locations to take shots for the clothing catalog that had sent him out here.

  "I'll meet you at five," he'd promised when he'd dropped them off beside one of the elk antler archways that led into the square.

  Izzy started to point out that the reason he'd given for bringing them was so that he could spend time with the girls, but he drove off before she'd had a chance. And it was just as well, anyway. The less time she spent in his company, the better.

  She was already committed to a week in a hotel suite with Finn MacCauley.

  It didn't bear thinking about.

  Of course they'd have the girls with them as they always did. It shouldn't be any different than the weeks she'd spent with him in his apartment. But somehow it was.

  Or maybe she was.

  Different. More aware. Of Finn.

  "—go with him," Tansy said, looking up at her expectantly.

  Izzy jerked back to the present, trying desperately to figure out what the little girl had been saying. But there weren't enough clues, and finally she had to ask, "What? I'm sorry. I was thinking about something else."

  "I said I hope tomorrow we can go with Uncle Finn when he shoots," Tansy said patiently. "Don't you?"

  No, Izzy thought. But she didn't want to explain her reasons to the girls, so she simply smiled and drew their attention away.

  They spent most of the afternoon exploring the shops. And when the girls wearied of that, she took them to a playground not far from the center of town where they raced around and jumped off things and pushed each other in the swings. When they were sufficiently winded, she steered them back toward the square. Finn would be there soon. Too soon.