Yes. More than she could ever imagine.
So why was a tiny voice urging her to revel in this man's attention? Why was it whispering that she might have sworn off marriage, but she hadn't sworn off sex?
Shocked at her own inner musings, Cara forced herself to ignore the heat that immediately blossomed within her.
She wouldn't give in to the neediness she felt. She mustn't give in.
"Ross," she breathed, stuffing the pictures back into her bag.
"Do you have business with Walter Gibbons?" He gestured toward the inner offices with a hitch of his shoulder.
"No. W-with Bert Morton." She laughed, then wished she hadn't when it sounded too bright and too false. "Nothing serious, just some legal advice for...for the Mom Squad."
"Really? I wish you'd let me know. I would be more than happy to consult with the Mom Squad pro bono. Heaven only knows that your company has bailed me out of a jam a time or two."
"I... I—" What was she supposed to say? That there was no way she would ever ask for his help because he was part of the problem?
Her gaze bounced from the inner office doors to the receptionist. But the woman was talking on the telephone and didn't intercept Cara's silent plea for help.
Again she was filled with a wave of panic. She shouldn't have come today. If Ross found out that she'd been here, that she'd gone immediately to a lawyer rather than approaching him with her discovery...
She had to get out of here. Now.
Cara jumped to her feet. To her horror her hands lost their grip on her purse and it fell to the ground, spilling its contents all over the plush forest-green carpet.
Her face flamed, and she scrambled to gather the scattered flotsam of her busy life—cosmetics, wipes, odd barrettes and Mom Squad correspondence. But before she could react, Ross had knelt beside her. Too late, she watched as he scooped up the photographs that had fluttered to a spot out of her reach.
An instinctive cry burst from her lips as he looked down at the two prints. Two sets of twins.
"What's this?"
His brow furrowed and he looked at Cara with patent confusion, his mind not yet grasping the import of what he was seeing.
"Why do you have photographs of Becca and Brianne in your purse?"
Her throat seemed to squeeze shut, allowing no sound to escape. Then, panicking, she snatched the photographs from his lax grip and stood.
"I've got to go," she half sobbed, tears gathering behind her eyes. It was only a matter of time now. Then he would know everything and any hope of seeing his eyes grow warm would be gone.
Dear, sweet heaven, why did such a prospect fill her with an overwhelming regret?
A chill wave of alarm flooded Ross's system. His heart thudded sickly in his breast as he watched Cara rush toward the double doors, but he was rooted to the spot.
This woman was carrying photographs of his twins. How? Why?
Still not fully understanding the situation, Ross rushed to follow her, knowing only that he needed an explanation. But he arrived just as the double
doors to the elevator closed, shutting out all but one quick glance of her distraught expression.
It was the brief flash of fear in her eyes that spurred him on. Racing to the emergency exit, he took the stairs two at a time, arriving in the lobby just as Cara tried to dodge through the outer doors.
Knowing only that he had to stop her, he snagged her elbow, pulling her tightly against him. But when her instinctive cries began to capture the attention of the other patrons, he quickly pulled her down the corridor next to the elevators, into an empty conference room and closed the door.
Immediately she wrenched free and put the width of the table between them. Breathing hard, Ross said, "I think you owe me an explanation. Why do you have photographs of my children in your purse?"
She gazed at him as if he were a monster, her eyes brimming with tears.
"I...I—"
4 'You are from the Mom Squad, aren't you?" Anger swelled within him, then fear. He was always so careful with his children. In his line of work he'd learned that wealth and prestige carried its own price tag, and he would stop at nothing to ensure the safety of the twins.
"Mr. Gifford? Miss Wells? Is something wrong?"
Before Ross knew what was happening, the door whipped opened and the receptionist from upstairs stepped inside.
Ross turned to reassure the woman, but in that scant moment when Ross's attention was diverted, Cara slipped past the woman and ran outside.
Again Ross tried to follow her, but by the time he reached the sidewalk, he saw her climbing into a candy-apple-red Volkswagen Beetle. Tires squealed as she backed out, and he barely had time to note her vanity plates. But even the whimsical WHEEE couldn't allay his concerns.
"Mr. Gifford?"
The receptionist had followed him outside, so Ross waved aside her concern. "I've got to get home, Bernice. Family emergency. Can you reschedule my appointments for me?"
"Of course."
"Thanks."
Without explaining himself further, Ross loped toward his car, retrieving his cell phone from his pocket as he ran. Punching the speed dial that would connect him with his office, he waited for his secretary to answer.
"Marci, do you still have that connection with the DMV? I need an address fast."
"What have you got for me?"
"A vanity plate."
"Go ahead."
"It'sWHEEE."
There was a pause. "Excuse me?"
"W-H-E-E-K"
"Gotcha."
"Call me back as soon as you've got it."
Less than ten minutes had elapsed before his phone rang again. In that time, Ross had aimlessly circled the nearby streets in his car, hoping to catch a glimpse of a candy-apple-red Volkswagen. With each second that passed, he grew more and more convinced that something was going on here, something he should be grasping about the entire situation. But what?
He'd known Cara for less than a day, yet he felt drawn to her in a way he had thought was purely physical. But was there something else between them that he was refusing to see?
Damn it all to hell. He shouldn't have kissed the woman. He shouldn't have given in to the reawakening of his physical hungers. By focusing on himself rather than his children, he had allowed his guard to drop. He couldn't afford to make such a mistake. He had too much to worry about with his life as it was. He didn't need to open himself up to more—
More what? Pleasure or pain?
The phone beeped and he grabbed it in mid-ring.
"Her name is Cara Wells. If you've got a pen, I'll give you her address."
Within minutes Ross found himself on the stoop of a quaint bungalow located in the Avenues. Steeling himself against everything but the fury that had begun to build within him, he pressed his finger against the bell and kept it there.
But he didn't have long to wait. Almost instantly the door creaked open and he found himself staring down at a familiar pair of faces—one a brilliant carrot top, the other a strawberry blonde.
"Becca? Brianne? What the—"
The anger within him flared, then suddenly turned to ice as Cara stepped into the doorway behind the children. In an instant he was struck by the disparity of the scene in front of him. Becca and Brianne? The faces were so familiar to him, so dear, so earnest....
But there was no recognition in their features. And the hair, the clothes...
"Ross, I'd like you to meet my children," Cara said, her voice low and filled with resignation. "Heidi, Zoe, this is Mr. Gifford. Believe it or not, he has a pair of twin daughters that look just like you."
The man in front of her grew pale, and knowing from her own experience the swirl of confusion
and disbelief that was robbing the color from his skin, Cara waved wide with her hand.
"Come in and take a seat. The time has come for us to have a talk."
He moved slowly, woodenly, with none of the usual grace that she'd begun to
expect from him. All the while his gaze clung to Heidi and Zoe.
"But they're—"
"Yes, I know. Please. Sit down."
Briefly he tore his eyes away from the children. She saw the way he looked around him, but sensed he only absorbed a small portion of what he saw.
Looking at the room with new eyes, Cara winced. Toys littered the floor, and a pile of books had been left on the couch. The room was small, the furnishings a hodgepodge of antiques and flea market finds.
Briefly Cara wondered what Ross was thinking, if he was comparing his sumptuous castle to her own simple home. Polly had once said that Cara's bungalow looked like a Laura Ashley catalog had exploded. She loved pastel colors, chintz, English roses and a rich combination of textures. But she also loved comfort. Her favorite books were always at hand and her shoes were invariably kicked off at the door. And since the children played primarily in the living room, there was hardly a time when everything was in its place.
She shifted nervously. "Excuse the mess. The children have been playing in here."
There was no separate nursery or play area. Cara's home was a compact, one-story bungalow that had been built sometime during the depression. Cara had immediately been attracted to its charm and craftsmanship so the size hadn't been an issue. But she supposed that her entire house could fit into the nursery area devoted to Ross's children.
"How long have you known?" His voice was low and gruff.
"Only since seeing your twins yesterday."
"Did Melba say something? Was she really ill?"
"Yes. I can assure you that my appearance as your sitter was purely by chance. I only fill in when there's an emergency. As for Melba, she's never seen my children so she would have no reason to think anything was wrong. Melba works out of her home for the most part, so I was alone during those few times we met face-to-face."
Again Ross stared at her children. Cara remained silent, knowing that he would need some time to absorb the truth of what he was seeing.
The twins ran to her side, sensing the tension in the air.
"What's wrong with him, Mama?" Zoe asked, tugging at Cara's skirt.
"Nothing, sweetie. He's just thinking, that's all."
Heidi sniffed, clearly unimpressed with the stranger. "He looks like he needs a nap. Make him go home. I don' like him. He's starin' an' we're not supposed t' stare."
"Shh," Cara said, offering both girls a quick kiss. "Go play with your toys for a little while. Mr. Gifford and I need to talk."
Zoe rose on tiptoe to whisper in Cara's ear. "Can we have a cookie?"
"One each. Take them off the plate. The cookies on the baking sheet are still hot."
Ross's presence was quickly forgotten as the little girls thundered into the kitchen, giggling and jabbering to each other.
"They're so..."
"Like your little girls?" Cara finished.
He nodded.
"I couldn't believe it myself last night. I thought it was a horrible joke."
He rubbed his hand over his mouth, staring at a point in midair. "How could this be?"
Cara shrugged. "As near as I've been able to piece together, the twins must have been switched at the hospital."
He was so obviously stunned, that Cara gave him a few moments of silence to think about that long-ago night when his children were born. Although she knew it would have been wiser to speak with her lawyer first, she couldn't deny that she was secretly relieved that the truth was out.
"I've been trying to figure out how to break the news to you," she said softly.
"And the lawyer you were seeing..."
"Last night I was so shocked, so flustered, that I asked the advice of some friends. They told me I should check with a lawyer before telling you anything."
She wasn't sure how he would respond to that, but the comment brought no immediate response, so she didn't think he was offended by the move.
"I still don't know how the hospital could have made such an error," he said, rubbing at a spot between his eyes.
Cara stood and retrieved a framed photo from the side table. In it, two infant children slept through their first hospital portrait.
"When they were first born, we thought they might be identical twins. They were bald with blue eyes..."
Sensing what she was trying to say, Ross removed his wallet and flipped it open to reveal the pictures of two more infant children.
"They look alike," Cara breathed. "They could be quadruplets if we went by these photographs."
Ross breathed deeply. "So they could have been switched at the hospital."
"Let's face it. Mistakes like that rarely happen, but they do happen."
He frowned, his thumb caressing the photograph. "Which leaves us with a dilemma." He looked at Cara, his eyes intent. "What do we do now that we've discovered the error?"
Chapter Five
Cara bit her lip and tried to read Ross's thoughts from the expressions that raced across his face.
What would they do now? Had sharing the news with Ross eased the burden? Or had she merely acquired a whole new set of troubles?
But even as the thought came, Cara knew that there would have been no way to avoid the inevitable. Ross Gifford had a right to know the truth, and if she had delayed the news, she only would have made things worse.
When he remained silent, she asked, "What are you going to do now?"
"I don't know."
He stood and began to pace the narrow confines of the room. A deep line slashed between his brows. His strides were quick and powerful, and Cara had the impression of a tiger that had been unexpectedly caged.
"Your girls. What are their names?"
She didn't fault him for not remembering. His mind was probably still stuck on the discovery he'd just made.
"Heidi and Zoe."
"And the one who looks like my wife is..."
She felt something akin to a pang touch her heart. The one who looks like my wife. He spoke of his wife as if she were still alive.
"Zoe. Zoe is the redhead."
Tension settled into the muscles of her jaw, even though she told herself that she shouldn't feel threatened by the question. He wasn't making a claim on the child, he was just asking for information.
Wasn't he?
"Your brother and his wife. Did either of them have red hair?"
She shook her head. "We have no redheads in our family that we know of. Zoe's coloring always puzzled us. I guess now we know...or I know."
She bit her lip, reminded again that she was alone in making whatever decisions had to be made. The actions and responses she made from this moment on would determine much of the children's future.
Ross was pacing again. His features had grown
even harder, if that was possible, but Cara couldn't even guess at the emotions he must be feeling.
He must be a hell of a lawyer, she realized. If he was able to keep his thoughts so skillfully hidden, he must terrify his adversaries. She shivered, glad that she would not be facing this man on the witness' stand.
From the comer of her eye Cara noted that the children had returned and were watching Ross from the doorway. Their faces were smeared with chocolate and crumbs, and they had never looked more adorable to her.
"What were they like, your brother and sister?" Ross asked.
Cara flicked a glance from Ross to the children. "They were good people. My brother was sensitive and funny and smart. His wife was petite and clever and talented."
"What happened?" The question was offered without a shred of emotion. Cara had grown so accustomed to people offering their immediate sympathies that she found the question unnerving—especially when coming from someone who had experienced a similar tragedy.
Again her gaze darted to the children, but they had tired of the grown-ups and were moving toward the television. Within moments they were fo-
cusing their attention on the television and the antics of Elmo and Big Bird.
"They were
killed in a car accident. A drunk driver crossed the median and slammed into them head-on."
Ross winced.
"And your wife?" she breathed, needing to know.
"Cancer. She died soon after the twins were born." He looked at the children again. "How long have you had them?"
"They've been living with me for a year but I became their legal guardian six months ago." She wiped her palms down her dress, hoping that he wouldn't see they were moist.
"You were appointed their legal guardian?"
Her stomach twisted. "Yes. I've already begun formal adoption proceedings."
She wasn't sure if she should have offered the information, but she knew that Ross would find out the details of the arrangement soon enough. It would be better for all concerned if she were honest from the start.
"The children are dealing with the loss?"
"They seem to be. They miss their parents and occasionally ask for them, but the trauma of their deaths seems to be fading. They've even begun to call me Mommy rather than Auntie Cara."
Again she bit her lip to hide the telltale spasm of emotion that gripped her. She still had so many mixed feelings about being called Mommy. She was pleased the twins had accepted her and thrilled that they loved and trusted her as a parent, but she also felt uncomfortable supplanting the role her sister-in-law had played in the twins' lives. She didn't want the twins to forget their parents, even though time had already begun to erase the memories.
Ross paused, his hands resting on his hips. For long moments he stared at the children, then at the carpet.
At that moment Cara would have done anything to read his thoughts. But he continued to wear an inscrutable mask, giving her no clue to the workings of his mind or his heart.
"I've got to go," he said abruptly.
Cara was sure she'd misheard. "What?"
But Ross didn't respond. He was already turning and heading toward the door.
Twins times two! Page 5