Twins for the Texan

by Charlene Sands

  “Kiss me,” he ordered, and she obeyed.

  And just as their tongues met, her body splintered apart, the amazing orgasm rocketing through her body with enough force to jerk her off the bed. She came down panting, the effects of her release almost mystifying her until she opened her eyes and saw Wyatt staring at her, his darkened gaze hot as fired metal.

  He rolled her over onto her back and lifted her hips, positioning her. And then he was inside her again, this time without hesitation. He began thrusting, his erection hard and thick, pulsing with new life. He moved deeper and harder and brought her to the brink of insanity once more. “Come with me this time,” he rasped, his throat thick.

  And they moved together, arching, aching, a beautiful joining of bodies in complete sync with each other. And when she was primed and eager and staring into his eyes, he tipped his head in acknowledgment. He knew she was ready. Then they rose up and bucked and cried out, her sighs meeting his groans. Her body shattered, just as his came apart.

  It was glorious.

  She was in heaven.

  And she stayed up there awhile before slowly easing down.

  Her limbs were weightless now. She felt like a sated rag doll, too limp to move. Wyatt scooped her up in his strong arms and surrounded her with his hot, perfect body. He kissed her cheeks, wove his fingers through her hair.

  “Brooke,” he whispered over her lips.

  “Mmm.” She’d never been happier. Or more tired.

  “Sleep, darlin’.”

  “Sorry, can’t help it.”

  “It’s okay,” he said.

  Wrapped up in his arms, she closed her eyes.

  * * *

  Wyatt opened his eyes to a dawn that had long ago broken through the shuttered windows of Brooke’s hotel room, streaming bright light inside. The digital clock read eight o’clock and he cursed silently as he untangled himself carefully from Brooke. His heart thumped in his chest as he glanced down at her, looking so peaceful, her eyes closed, that mane of raven hair falling down her back. His body strummed to life again, but he had no time to indulge or to say goodbye to Brooke. No time to look into those pretty brown eyes or hear the sultry tone of her voice.

  He should’ve been on the road an hour ago. He was late, and he’d made Henrietta a promise. He couldn’t take advantage of her good nature. Weekends were precious to her.

  “Dammit,” he muttered as he scrambled to step into his clothes. He hated leaving this way. There was a reason widowers shouldn’t have one-night stands. He was out of his element here. He had seconds to make a decision and God only knew if it was the right one, but time was wasting. He scribbled a note to Brooke and left it on the nightstand.

  He had nothing to offer Brooke. He was still in love with Madelyn and he had no room for another woman in his life. Not that Brooke seemed to want anything but this one night together. She hadn’t asked him a bunch of questions the way women tended to do, and she hadn’t hinted at anything more. She was vacationing in Texas and had a life and a business on the West Coast.

  The thoughts crowded his mind as he gave her one last glance.

  He’d be forever grateful to her for this night. Brooke had helped him get through a tough day and they’d had a good time.

  Actually, they’d had multiple good times during the evening.

  End of story.

  He walked to the door, not surprised by the regret burning a hole in his stomach. He didn’t usually walk out on women. But he couldn’t stay, either. It was better this way. For her. For both of them.

  He turned the doorknob and strode out of the room, leaving Brooke and the Inn at Sweetwater behind.

  More than an hour later he’d reached the gates of Blue Horizon Ranch. He was home, back where he belonged. But he’d thought about Brooke most of the way and he’d cursed his best friend, Johnny Wilde, for practically daring him to go to the wedding. Now he had guilt. And memories he couldn’t wash from his mind.

  Was he a fool to think he was betraying his late wife by enjoying himself with another woman? Johnny would certainly think so. But then, what did he know? He’d been with too many women to count and he’d never found the right one, while Wyatt had met the love of his life and had married her. For that short time—only five years—they’d had together, he’d been happier than he thought possible.

  And now he had his precious twins to think about.

  He parked the car in front of the house and gave it a quick glance, just as a wave of pain jabbed his gut. He’d never quite gotten over the fact that Madelyn wouldn’t be here, greeting him after a trip. That her birthday had come and gone yesterday and there would be no more sweet kisses between them, no emerald sparks of joy in her eyes when he surprised her with a gift. “Sorry, Maddy.”

  That day nine months ago had ripped his gut in two. Seeing the sheriff at his front door, hat in hand, his face solemn. Madelyn’s had an accident. I’m sorry, Mr. Brandt.

  Wyatt shook off the memory. He had to get his ass inside the house. Henrietta’s youngest niece was coming to help him with the twins, so Henrietta could spend the weekend camping in their fifth wheel camper up at the river. Ralph, her husband, wasn’t a patient man. He’d been pressing her to retire, and she’d promised him she would as soon as Wyatt found a suitable nanny for the twins. Henrietta was as loyal as they came, and she was good with his kids, but she was exhausted lately. He’d catch her rubbing at her back and taking short naps in those rare times when the twins were both asleep. She’d been here since his folks lived at the ranch, and she was more like family than the help. Clearly, she didn’t want to leave Wyatt in the lurch without someone he trusted to care for his children, but the search wasn’t going well.

  He entered his house and stood in the foyer, listening for baby sounds. “I’m home,” he said quietly, just in case Brett and Brianna were napping. And then he heard their voices coming from the great room, which substituted now as a giant playroom, and strode in that direction. His heart warmed immediately when he spotted his kids. The twins were toddling around on the floor, paying Carly no mind as she read them their favorite book, Goodnight Moon.

  “Hi, Carly,” he said to the teenager.

  “Oh, hi,” she said, glancing at him through her black-rimmed glasses.

  At the sound of his voice, Brett, who was scooting a Lego truck along the hardwood floor, and Brianna, who was clutching her doll, abandoned their toys, flapped their arms excitedly and toddled over to him, their smiles lighting him up inside. He scooped both twins up in his arms. “Hello, my babies.”

  He gave each a kiss on the cheek.

  Brianna was more vocal than little Brett. “Daddy! Home. Daddy kisses.”

  Brett stared at his sister first and then hugged Wyatt around the neck. Nothing was sweeter. Nothing helped his healing more than their unconditional love. He was constantly enveloped in sadness thinking that Madelyn would never know her children. And that his twins had been cheated out of a wonderful mother.

  Henrietta walked into the room. Her sturdy build and cinnamon red hair piled in a tight bun atop her head gave her the appearance of a stern woman, but nothing was further from the truth. She was an old softy at heart. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, feeling like a heel.

  “Not a problem, Wyatt. I hope you had a nice time at the wedding.”

  An image of Brooke Johnson, naked and asleep in the bed he’d just left, popped into his head. “I did. It was good to see Blake again.”

  “That’s nice. My Ralph is on his way. Carly’s been here, playing with the kids. She’ll help with feeding them later, and getting them down for their naps. I’ve got the weekend’s meals ready for you in the fridge.”

  “Thanks, Etta.”

  Carly stood, picking up a few toys from the floor as she rose. “I can stay overnight if you need me to, Mr. Brandt.�
�

  “Thanks, Carly. Let’s see how the day goes. I might just need you to come back tomorrow, if you can.”

  “I can do that, too,” she said.

  “Okay, great.” Wyatt set the kids down and squatted onto the floor next to them. It was a tough balancing act, being in charge of a huge ranch corporation and being Daddy to his children. But he couldn’t let them down. They needed the stability of having him here most of the time, knowing that they came first, no matter what.

  After Madelyn’s death, he’d relied heavily on Henrietta for support with the kids. But if he didn’t find a suitable nanny soon, old Ralph would march in here one day and threaten to knock his block off...with a shotgun.

  He had three interviews with potential nannies later this week.

  He could only hope.

  Three

  Brooke

  You’ll never know how much last night meant to me. If you ever need me for anything, you can find me at the Blue Horizon Ranch. Thank you.

  Wyatt

  Brooke sat on her bed in the guest room of Zane Williams’s brand-new gorgeous ranch estate and reread the note for the tenth time this month. She hadn’t been able to toss it away. The paper was crumpled and creased, but the words rang out loud and clear. Wyatt had blown her off.

  The morning after the wedding, when she’d woken up alone at the inn, she’d read his words and been baffled. She’d been certain Wyatt wasn’t the love-’em-and-leave-’em type. She’d been certain they’d wake up together and exchange phone numbers, at the very least. Maybe have breakfast together. Their connection had been powerful, so strong, in fact, it sort of scared her. She’d been sure it wasn’t one-sided. Had her BS meter gone on the fritz?

  After what Royce Brisbane did to her, she’d turned on her protective radar with all shields up. She’d come to Texas partly to forget about men and romance. And then Wyatt appeared, seemingly out of the blue, and gave her one miraculous day...and night.

  Maybe that’s all there’d ever be for her, snippets of passion, spread out here and there, but nothing real, nothing permanent. Oddly enough, it was the “thank you” at the end of the note that pissed her off more than anything. As if she’d done him a service.

  If you ever need me for anything, you can find me at the Blue Horizon Ranch.

  Hell, yeah, she needed him. But right now, her pride interfered with good judgment. Tears entered her eyes. Tears she didn’t want. Tears that embarrassed her. She wasn’t a teary-eyed romantic fool, but her hormones were out of whack and had been pretty much since she’d missed her last period.

  She knew what it meant. She’d taken the test yesterday. She was going to have Wyatt’s baby—a result of too much passion and not enough good sense.

  She’d slept on the news last night, hoping when she woke up today it would’ve all gone away, like a bad dream you eventually forget. She hadn’t told a soul, but Emma was raising her eyebrows at her lately, asking her why she was tired and looking pale. She blamed it on the Texas heat and humidity. She wasn’t used to the sweltering temperatures, but Emma was five months pregnant and having just gone through these early months, she knew the signs all too well.

  Dylan popped his head into her room. “Are you gonna come out to the set today, sis?”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. But thanks.”

  “What are you gonna do? Stay alone here all day?”

  Zane and his new wife, Jessica, had graciously offered for the three of them to stay as his houseguests in the glorious new home Adam Chase had designed as a wedding present, while Dylan shot a Western movie here. Zane had been a neighbor for a time back in Moonlight Beach, California, and Dylan, Zane and Adam were all good friends now. But newlyweds Zane and Jessica were inseparable, and a few days back, they’d left on Zane’s spectacular tour bus, heading toward New Orleans to do a round of country music concerts.

  Now Dylan, Emma and Brooke had the house all to themselves for the next few weeks.

  Emma barged into the room, her growing belly covered by a breezy floral handkerchief dress. “No, she’s not spending the day alone. She’s going to help me pick out baby girl clothes!”

  Brooke forgot about her own problems and jumped up. “You’re having a girl?”

  Emma nodded, her laughter infectious. She lifted the pointed hem of her dress with both hands, and danced around the room singing, “Yes, yes, we’re having a baby girl.”

  Brooke caught her midstride and hugged her tight. “Oh, this is wonderful. Boy or girl, it doesn’t matter, but now we know!”

  She peered over Emma’s shoulder at her brother. His eyes were gleaming with love for his wife and new child. One would never know the child Emma carried wasn’t his. But he loved both mother and child with all of his heart. And that’s all that mattered.

  Brooke stepped away from Emma and with arms reaching up, walked over to Dylan to give him a giant warm hug. Her big brother was happier than she’d ever seen him. “Congratulations.”

  Dylan kissed her forehead. “Thanks. We’re excited.”

  “You’re going to be outnumbered, you know, with all these women around.”

  “He’s used to it,” Emma said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

  “That’s right, the big mega movie star has women falling at his feet,” Brooke said.

  “Not anymore. They know I’m taken.” Dylan went to Emma and took her hand. She smiled and then both of them looked Brooke’s way. “So, you’ll drop by the set with Emma later?” he asked.

  “Sure, we’ll come by and see you.”

  She couldn’t burst his bubble. She’d been a downer lately, and hadn’t been able to concentrate on having a good time. They sensed something was up with her, but hadn’t pried. Not yet, anyway. She didn’t want to raise any more suspicion. She was having enough trouble accepting the fact that Emma wouldn’t be the only new mother around here. And she had no clue of how or when to tell Wyatt Brandt he was going to be a father.

  * * *

  Wyatt sat upon a black gelding with white socks named Oreo and faced the rushing waters of the Willow Springs River. Twenty miles north of Beckon and even farther from his ranch, he was doing Johnny a favor today by coming here. Aside from Johnny Wilde, no one else in the area had as much commonsense knowledge about horseflesh and cattle as Wyatt did. Not that he’d wanted this job. Hell, he was no consultant, but his friend had called him in a panic. Johnny had come down with the flu, hopefully just the twenty-four-hour kind, and he’d needed a replacement, pronto. “You’re the only one I trust to do the job,” he’d said.

  It wasn’t the plea, but the weakness in Johnny’s voice that had Wyatt agreeing to haul his butt away from Blue Horizon Ranch and his kids today.

  He glanced at the men milling around, decked out in fringed leather chaps, Stetsons and snakeskin boots. Actors.

  Dressing room trailers—honey wagons, Johnny had called them—were set up in the outlying area and a crew of about fifty were pulling wires, setting up cameras and shouting orders. He’d already spoken with the director today about the scene they were to shoot along the river’s edge. The horses and cattle would be crossing in shallow waters, but it was a key concern that no animals or actors be hurt in the highly technical shot.

  From a distance, he spotted the star of the movie, Dylan McKay, stepping out of his trailer decked out in a chambray shirt, jeans and a red paisley kerchief around his neck. And then Wyatt froze. He blinked and refocused.

  Yep, he wasn’t imagining it. Dylan was with a woman.

  It was her.

  Brooke Johnson.

  What was she doing here? She looked awfully chummy with Dylan, laughing at something he’d said and walking along with him as though she was accustomed to being close to the mega superstar.

  Seeing her again sent blazing fireworks off in Wyatt�
��s head. “Uh, Tony?” He took his eyes off Brooke for a second to get the assistant wrangler’s attention. “Do you know who that woman is walking with Dylan McKay?” He pointed. “Is her name Brooke Johnson?”

  The wrangler scrubbed his jaw, his eyes narrowing a bit to gain a good look. “It’s Brooke all right. All the single guys on the crew have been eyeing her. But her name’s not Johnson. That’s Mr. McKay’s sister, Brooke McKay.”

  “She’s Dylan McKay’s sister?”

  “Yep, that’s what they tell me. She’s a looker, but she’s not the friendly type, if you know what I mean.”

  No, he didn’t know what Tony meant. A knot formed in the pit of his stomach. The woman he’d met on the road had been friendly and fun and sassy. He’d never describe Brooke as unfriendly. But then, he hadn’t known the real Brooke, had he? She’d given him a fake name. Now that wasn’t cool.

  And just like that, Brooke turned her head and met his gaze. She halted abruptly, her face going as white as newly plowed snow. Dylan kept walking, but Brooke stood there, some twenty feet away, staring at him as if she couldn’t believe it. As if she wanted to hide under a rock.

  God, when had his effect on women taken a turn for the worse?

  She said something to her brother, and then did a one-eighty and hightailed it back to the trailer. Before stepping inside she glanced in Wyatt’s direction. To see if he was watching? Their eyes met again and for all he was worth, he couldn’t, wouldn’t stop looking at her. Then she was gone, the trailer door slamming shut behind her.

  “Crap,” he muttered, climbing down from his horse. He planted his feet on solid ground and held the reins in his hand, trying to decide what to do. He’d worked hard to put Brooke out of his mind, and now here she was infiltrating, invading and trying her best to take up space again.

  He was so busy being in his own head, he didn’t notice Dylan McKay until he was standing right in front of him. “Hello, I’m Dylan. I understand you’re taking over for Johnny Wilde today?”