She shoved a pile of clothes off the bed and sank down on the edge of the mattress. What was wrong with being structured? She had to be in order to keep her schedule. She'd grown up knowing that her place was working in the family corporation, following in her father's and Sam's footsteps.
She'd worked hard to get where she was, to gain the respect of the men who worked for her. What was wrong with being strong, independent, yet understanding her duty to the family business? All the qualities he'd listed about her were qualities she'd always liked about herself. But, falling from his lips, they had sounded like character flaws.
She un dressed, her movements jerky with irritation. Beau was probably the type of man who believed that every woman needed a good old-fashioned roll in the hay. Re pressed, indeed. She wasn't re pressed. She frowned, realizing her lips were pressed tightly together.
Pulling her nightgown on, she turned out the light and got into bed. Prunes indeed. She punched the pillow, then turned over on her side. Drawing in a couple of deep breaths, she allowed the darkness and the silence to soothe her.
Chapter 5
A covered dish. Carolyn stood in front of the refrigerator and stared blankly at the contents. They were going to a community supper and dance this evening, and Beau had told her she didn't have to cook dinner, but she did need to fix a covered dish to take with them. A covered dish of what?
She sank down at the kitchen table and shoved her glasses up on top of her head. From the kitchen window came the whir of the lawn mover and the pleasant scent of freshly mowed grass. She hoped the noise from the mower didn't disturb the twins' nap. They'd been so fussy the last two days.
Actually she was grateful for the dinner this evening. Since Beau had the day off, she'd worried how she was going to manage the diner delivery of their supper without Beau knowing about it. Now all she had to figure out was what she was going to prepare to take with them this evening.
On impulse she got up and grabbed her cell phone and punched in her sister's number.
Colleen answered on the second ring. "Carolyn! I've been wondering what's going on out there. Is everything okay with the twins? Have you found out anything about Sam? When are you coming home?"
"As far as the twins are concerned everything is under control. I really haven't had an opportunity to find out anything about Sam." Carolyn rubbed her forehead thoughtfully. "Any news about him there?"
"None."
Carolyn heard the quiet despair in her sister's voice. Colleen and Sam had always been so close. The disappearance had been difficult for all of them, but more so for the youngest member of the Baker family who had idolized her big brother. "Colleen, what I really need from you is a recipe." Stunned silence met her words. "Colleen, don't ask why and don't make jokes. I need a recipe for a covered dish."
"A covered dish of what?"
Carolyn sighed. She should have known better than to ask either of her sisters. Bonnie ate nearly every meal in a restaurant and Colleen was as helpless in the kitchen as Carolyn. "Never mind. It was silly of me to call and ask you."
"Carolyn, why are you trying to fight this battle on unfamiliar grounds? Get away from the house work and cooking before your brain turns to mush. Wait until it gets to court where you can hire a shark and can go for his throat."
For some reason, Colleen's words unsettled Carolyn. She didn't necessarily want to go for Beau's throat. She just wanted custody of the twins. They needed her. "Colleen, I have to do this my way. I don't want to tie this up in court, and I don't want to bankrupt him. The easiest, kindest way to do this is to catalog all the reasons why he shouldn't have custody so the judge will make the proper decision." She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'd better let you go. I've still got to figure out some thing to fix for a dinner we're going to tonight."
"Call a caterer. Surely you can find a place who specializes in hors d'oeuvres of some kind?"
After hanging up with her sister, Carolyn once again stood in front of the refrigerator door. She could just imagine the faces if she took a plate of fancy hors d'oeuvres to serve to a bunch of Kansas farmers. Besides, she had a feeling pâté and caviar would be in short supply in Casey's Corners.
Closing the refrigerator door, she looked at the canned goods, finally deciding that she could bake several cans of beans and throw in some sliced hot dogs. It wasn't creative, it wasn't exotic, but it would be hot and hearty.
With this problem out of the way, she walked over to the window and gazed outside, where Beau pushed the lawn mower across the expanse of the lush backyard.
She'd apologized to him yesterday morning for storming out of the kitchen when he'd been talking about Carolyn Baker. She'd told him she'd been playing the devil's advocate for the absent woman. He'd merely smiled enigmatically.
As she watched, Beau paused with the mower idling. He swiped an arm across his brow, then walked over to where a wooden trellis had fallen on its side. As he picked it up and worked the bottom stakes back into the earth, the tanned muscles of his arms and back glistened and danced with the exertion. She pulled her glasses off the top of her head and perched them on the bridge of her nose where they belonged, instantly bringing him into sharper focus.
She'd never been so physically aware of a man as she was of Beau. She didn't under stand it. It wasn't like her world wasn't filled with a lot of attractive men. She worked with nice, confident handsome men in power suits and ties. But none of them radiated the kind of raw masculinity that Beau emitted so effortlessly. None of them made a coil of heat unfurl in the pit of her stomach.
Uttering a sigh of disgust, she turned away from the window. The very last thing she needed was to develop a case of the "hots" for Beau Randolf. She wanted nothing to complicate her ultimate goal. Besides, once Beau discovered who she really was, the playful, warm light in his eyes would darken to anger and enmity.
She jumped as the back door opened and he walked in. She realized the noise of the lawn mower had stopped.
"Boys still asleep?" he asked as he opened the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of orange juice.
She nodded and watched as he flipped the plastic lid off the juice and tipped the bottle to his lips.
He drank deeply, his Adam's apple moving as he swallowed. Carolyn had a sudden desire to press her lips against the dark hollow of his neck, taste the salt of his skin, feel the pulse point throbbing against her cheek. Her own mouth was suddenly cotton dry.
He finished drinking and held the bottle out toward her. "Want some?"
She flushed, irritated with herself and her errant thoughts, even more irritated with him. "That's disgusting." She grabbed the bottle from him and placed the lid back on the top. "You shouldn't drink out of the bottle like that."
"That's what my mother always told me."
"And have you always done the opposite of what your mother told you was right and proper?" She put the juice back into the refrigerator.
"Only when I thought it might be more pleasurable than not." He stepped closer to her. "I listened to her for the important things. For instance, I never run with scissors in my hands, and I don't put anything smaller than my elbow in my ears."
Again he stepped closer to her and the cool surface of the refrigerator pressed against her back as the heat that emanated from him warmed the front of her. "But there are some things mothers tell you not to do that you just have to try—like eating raw cookie dough, drinking out of the milk jug and skinny-dipping when it's far too early in the year and the lake is cold."
He stood so close to her now, she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face, see the tiny silver flecks that softened the dark gray of his irises. His voice was unusually deep and affected her like a caress. Her breath caught in her chest as he leaned toward her and braced his hands against the refrigerator on either side of her, effectively capturing her in an almost embrace. "Tell me, Ms. Carol Cook, didn't you ever do anything your mother told you not to do?" His mouth was so close to hers. "
Haven't you ever done anything that you know isn't quite proper, but instead is delightfully wicked?"
She suddenly felt disoriented as a flame of anticipation burned deep down in the pit of her stomach. He had a beautiful mouth with full, sensual lips that looked velvety soft. She wanted to taste them, feel them dancing across the line of her jaw, down the length of her throat. She closed her eyes to steady herself against the sudden rocket of desire that shot through her.
"Aren't you going to go get them?"
She opened her eyes and blinked, fighting against the fog of longing that surrounded her. "Wha-what?"
"The boys…Remember them? Trent and Brent?"
She realized he'd dropped one of his arms and had stepped back from her. She also saw that the playful smile that had curved his lips and sparkled in his eyes only a moment before, was gone.
Squeals of impatience came from the twins' room and she spiraled back to reality with a small gasp. "Yes…I'll just go get them," she muttered, scooting out of the kitchen as her cheeks burned hotly.
As she changed Trent's diaper, she berated herself, wondering how on earth a simple discussion of manners had turned into such intense yearning for his kiss. As she changed Brent's diaper, she mentally berated Beau for being so damned sexy.
"Another day or two…that's it," she said, propping one child on one hip and one on the other. Within another day or two she should have more than enough ammunition to fight Beau in a custody suit. In the meantime, she would just have to make sure she didn't put herself in a position where she wondered about Beau's kisses again.
* * *
"Hey, buddy, that's a no-no." Beau grabbed the decorative vase before Trent's inquisitive hands could reach it. He diverted the little boy's attention with a handful of blocks, then looked at his watch, wondering how much longer Carolyn would be.
She had bathed and dressed the children, then Beau had offered to sit with them while she got ready. He eased back down in his chair. As he watched the kids playing in the middle of the floor, his thoughts drifted to that moment in the kitchen when he'd almost thrown caution and good sense to the wind and kissed her.
It had been a close call. Had the boys not awakened and yelled, who knew what might have happened? His mind suddenly filled with a vision of him making love to Carolyn on the kitchen floor, her long sexy legs wrapped tightly around his hips. He smiled, remembering the way her eyes had flared, their blue darkening as her lips had parted to invite his kiss.
He leaned back in the chair and rubbed a hand thoughtfully across his lower jaw. He was going to have to call an end to this game soon. Contrary to everything he had ever thought possible, Carolyn Baker was definitely getting under his skin.
An affair with her, no matter how fleeting, would only complicate what already promised to be a complicated matter. With or without the twins, eventually she would go back to her life in New York and he would remain here.
Still, when he'd leaned into her against the refrigerator, her scent had whirled in his head, removing all reason. Her soft, moist lips had beckoned him to taste, to plunder their sweet ness. She'd even closed her eyes, as if anticipating his kiss.
With a low growl, he stood and restlessly paced the room, needing the physical activity to cool his blood. Maybe it was time he looked more closely at the single women in Casey's Corners. He'd dated hot and heavy during the years before Bob and Mary had moved back to Casey's Corners, but he'd never found anyone who made him think in terms of "forever."
Perhaps his physical reaction to Carolyn was only a reflection of a natural biological clock of sorts telling him it was time to seriously seek a wife. Before Bob's and Mary's deaths, Beau had sated his hunger for family by being a part of theirs. Mary had constantly nagged him to find a nice woman and settle down. "Bimbos, that's all you date," she'd accused.
Since the boys had entered his life, he hadn't even considered seeing any of the women he had dated in the past. They had been terrific for a few dates, but they weren't mother material.
A marriage would probably tip the scales of justice in his favor when it came to the custody of the boys. Unfortunately, it would be impossible for him to get married before the judge made his decision.
As Trent grabbed his lower leg, Beau grinned and bent down to pick the boy up in his arms. "My mama always said I was a perverse cuss," he said to the child, who smiled and reached to grab his nose. Most men got a wife before they had the children, but not Beau. He'd always done things the hard way.
He smelled Carolyn before she actually walked into the living room. The scent of her soft, utterly feminine perfume preceded her and caused the flame in his groin to renew its burn.
He turned toward the hallway in expectation, at the same time trying to break Trent's death grip on his nose. "Let go, kid," he muttered.
As she entered the room, he forgot all about his nose being wrenched. Gone was the frazzled care taker of twin boys, and in her place was a lovely woman in a pale blue dress. The dress molded to the thrust of her breasts, hugged tightly to her slender waist, and danced in flirtatious folds around her hips. It was long enough to be decent, but short enough to display what seemed to him an indecent length of slender, sexy legs.
"Is this all right?" She stood hesitantly, her hands nervously working down the sides of her skirt.
He set Trent on the floor and straightened, trying to keep his gaze off those legs. "I must say, you clean up right nice."
Her hair was pulled back and caught at the nape of her neck with a gold barrette, and small hoop earrings winked on the lobe of each ear. Her makeup was subtle, enhancing the peach of her cheeks, the lush color of her lips and the dark length of her lashes. She looked cool, elegant—every inch the wealthy lady he knew her to be. This thought irritated him.
"Come on, we'd better get going or we're going to be late," he said gruffly. He pulled a double stroller out of the hall closet and unfolded it, wrestling for a moment with the cumbersome contraption. "I thought we'd walk to the community center. It's only a couple of blocks and it's a pretty evening."
"Sounds like fun," she agreed. She picked up Trent and put him in the stroller while Beau grabbed Brent and did the same. "They look so cute in those matching outfits."
Beau nodded, looking at the two in their identical baseball shirts and pants, their only difference the color of their socks. A river of grief welled up in his throat and he swallowed hard against it. "Bob bought those for them the day they were born. He said before he and Mary were through, he hoped they had enough kids for an entire ball team."
She touched his arm and as he gazed at her, he saw his pain, his grief reflected in her eyes. He realized the loss was not his alone; that she grieved for the couple, too. Surprisingly, it helped. He cleared his throat and she dropped her hand from his arm. "So, let's hit the road."
"Wait! My beans." She hurried into the kitchen with Beau following closely behind.
As she pulled the casserole dish out of the oven, he looked at the contents, then grinned at her wryly. "Old family recipe?"
She returned his smile. "Not my family."
Within minutes they were on their way, the casserole dish resting well beneath the twins' feet, along with two diaper bags and an assortment of toys.
As Beau had indicated, it was a pleasant evening. A mild breeze, fragrant with sweet spring scents, stirred the trees that lined the sidewalk. The boys had awakened from their naps in good moods and they cooed and jabbered in the secret language of babies.
Carolyn looked forward to the evening out. After spending the last three days with nobody to talk to except the twins, she was hungry for adult inter action—although not quite as adult as what had almost happened between her and Beau before the twins had interrupted them.
She cast a furtive glance at him as they walked leisurely down the cracked sidewalk. His jeans hugged his long legs with easy familiarity and the short-sleeved T-shirt displayed tanned forearms and bulging biceps as he pushed the stroller. How was it
possible for a man to look so damned sexy when doing nothing more than pushing a couple of drooling, babbling kids?
Instead of looking at him, she focused her attention on their surroundings, noting the neat, attractive houses they passed along the way. Had Sam walked these same streets? Had Mary been mistaken in thinking she saw him? What could have brought him to the small Kansas town?
She shoved these thoughts away, knowing she couldn't ask questions as long as Beau thought she was Carol Cook. Carol Cook wouldn't know or care what had happened to Sam Baker. Just a day or two longer, she promised herself, then her charade would be over and she could delve fully into the mystery of Sam.
Insects buzzed and clicked, as if celebrating the deepening shadows of twilight. "It's nice that there are still some places left where people can walk the streets and not worry about their safety," she observed.
He nodded and smiled. "Casey's Corners is a place where kids still play outside, where the teenagers do drive-by mooning instead of drive-by shootings."
Carolyn laughed. "As deputy sheriff, you must take a lot of pride."
"I do. This town has a lot of heart, and I like to think I have some thing to do with that." A frown usurped his pleasant smile. "Casey's Corners is growing by leaps and bounds and that worries me a little. I'd hate for it to grow so big the heart could no longer be found."
Carolyn thought about Manhattan. It had lost its heart long ago. Too many people, prevalent crime and too much fear dictated that people kept to them selves, went about their business without connecting with others. Carolyn had lived in her apartment building for two years, but she didn't know any of the people who shared the building with her.
She frowned, realizing she favored Casey's Corners as the town where she would prefer the boys to be raised. Okay, so Casey's Corners won in this respect, but there were many, many more things to consider. "There isn't much in the way of cultural activity here, is there?"
He looked at her in surprise. "I guess it depends on what you consider cultural."
Deputy Daddy Page 6