Quadruplets on the Doorstep

by Tina Leonard

  “You said it first,” April told Caleb in the car after they’d left her parents’ house. Donna and Webb weren’t used to getting out much, and the cold weather seemed an invitation to light rain and slick streets, so they’d declined to come to the party at Jackson’s house. “You said it, which made me have to say it.”

  Caleb snorted. “I haven’t had much practice with in-laws. I couldn’t let them down.”

  “I couldn’t, either,” April said. She stared out the window at the streets that seemed hard with the freeze.

  “I thought they took our marriage well.” He glanced at her, noting that her face was strained. “And we get to fake it for my family tonight, and the hospital staff tomorrow, and after that, Social Services. Piece of cake.”

  “My parents will be so disappointed when we divorce.”

  He scratched the back of his neck as he braked at a stop sign. April’s low voice told him she was wondering if she’d made a mistake. And maybe they had. “Are you regretting our marriage?”

  “I don’t think so.” She sighed, stretching her arms around her knees. “I’m not regretting it at all for the babies, if we can keep them together. I do feel a little sorry for my folks. They had their own dreams for me.”

  The intersection was clear of cars, so he moved the Acura forward. He didn’t suffer April’s worries, because his father was in on the “scheme,” as Jackson had called it. Clear as anything, Caleb had read the Sullivans’ hopes, too. They wanted the prince to come riding up for their daughter, and reassure them that in their old age, they had nothing to worry about where she was concerned. She’d be loved, and taken care of, and swept off to his castle.

  He didn’t have a castle. And he wasn’t much of a prince.

  “Do you want to talk about living arrangements?” he asked, trying to get her mind off her parents. “Now that we’re getting the big stuff out of the way, maybe we ought to talk about the incidentals, such as keeping up a good front.”

  “You could…move into my house.”

  The dollhouse? “Do you think that’s a good idea?” he asked carefully.

  “Well, we can’t raise four babies in an apartment. I mean, we can, but there’s no reason, since I have a house. And a yard for them to play in.”

  He frowned. “I don’t know if I can live in your house.”

  “I don’t know if you can, either,” April said. “You’re going to have to get a futon or a rollaway.”

  “A futon?” he yelped.

  “You won’t fit into my bed, unless you’re lying right on top of me.”

  “Well, now, there’s an idea.”

  “No. There is not an idea.” April shook her head to discourage such notions, even though she knew he’d been teasing her—to a point. But it was a point she didn’t even want to bring into the conversation. “We said nothing about marital relations when we discussed the prenup.”

  “Wait a minute. The prenup was about money, wasn’t it?”

  “That, among other things. The prenup is about independence, you see.”

  Caleb pulled up in front of the McCallum mansion, parked the car, turned off the engine and turned to look at her. “I do not see.”

  “I keep my house, you keep your apartment. You keep your car, I keep mine. You get a futon, I sleep alone. Independence.”

  He blinked. “Forever?”

  “Caleb, you’re not really my husband.”

  She looked confused but beautiful in her innocence—white gown and pretty, upswept hair. Caleb wasn’t sure how long he could live with her without being driven mad. “Maybe I should stay in my own apartment.”

  “You could,” April said brightly. “At least until we find out if we get the babies.”

  “You don’t want me with you at your house, do you?”

  Her eyes softened as she looked at him. “I’m not sure I do.”

  “I promise to put the lid down on the toilet and the cap back on the toothpaste.”

  “Why do you want to stay in my house?”

  He couldn’t say for sure; he was only teasing her right now because he could tell she was resisting him so badly. “You’re worried that I’m going to try to claim my husbandly rights.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sakes!” She crossed her arms and stared forward through the windshield. “I kissed you, if you recall, not the other way around.”

  “So you did.” He wound the slight tendril that had escaped her hairdo around his finger. “And I liked it.”

  Her lips twitched with reluctance. “I didn’t.”

  Gently, he tugged the tendril. “That is the second fib you’ve told today.”

  “It’s the third. I said I’d love you and cherish you and keep you, or something to that effect. And we know that’s not going to happen.”

  “Well, you’re turning into a real dishonest young bride.” He tsk-tsked her. “Maybe you’re being dishonest about the reason you don’t want me to stay in your house.”

  “There really isn’t any reason for it, is there? You probably watch wrestling. I’d go mad.”

  “You’d probably want me to mow the yard and learn how to make string pot holders. I’d go mad.”

  That made her laugh, and he moved his finger from her hair to the back of her bare neck, stroking lightly. “It’s happened fast, but it doesn’t have to be fast between us, April.”

  She turned to look at him. “Do you mean it?”

  “Of course. I know what my role in this charade is.”

  “It’s not a charade. You’re kind to try to help me.”

  “I like it when you’re grateful,” he teased. “It makes me want to kiss you.”

  “Caleb!” She flicked his hand from her neck, but her tone wasn’t angry.

  “I think I know what you’re worried about,” he said quietly. “And I’m not going to expect you to become ‘my woman,”’ he said, the final words in a gruff, manly tone.

  “Your woman?”

  “Yeah. Kind of like the caveman days. I promise not to drag you off by the hair and—that’s why you won’t come to my apartment, isn’t it? You’re afraid to leave your safe little nest to come to my cave.”

  A charming moment of hesitation gave her away.

  “No,” she denied vehemently.

  “Yes you are! April Sullivan-McCallum,” he said, sticking a hand under her ribs to tickle her, “your nose is growing a foot. You’re afraid I’m going to sweep you off your feet, carry you off to my cave and ravish you.”

  Her pert nose went into the air as she caught his hand in hers, stilling him. “I cannot be swept, carried or ravished.”

  His eyebrow lifted. “Why not?”

  “I won’t allow it.” And she opened the car door, hurrying to the mansion door, her white puffy skirt billowing in the cold New Year’s Eve breeze.

  “Is this a battle-of-the-sexes kind of thing?” he called after her, slamming the door as he followed. “Mrs. McCallum, I promise never to encroach upon your emotional territory. That’s a vow I can keep.”

  She waited for him on the long porch. “You told my parents you loved me. That made me have to say it.”

  “Yes, but it made them so happy.” Taking her face between his palms, he captured her lips in a surprise kiss.

  “Oh,” Bri exclaimed as she suddenly opened the door. “You do love her, don’t you, Caleb? I did wonder, but then I could tell you did in the courthouse. It was written all over your face!”

  Now he was trapped, fair and square. Bri’s expression was so delighted. He couldn’t bear to disappoint her. April stared up at him, her emerald eyes huge, and he could feel her holding her breath.

  Well, this whole conversation was about independence. Little Miss Freedom was determined to keep him at bay, with a prenup and any other thing she could think of.

  But he was holding her now and that’s what made this New Year’s Eve moment so special. He had her face in his hands, and his sister waiting for an answer. “Yes,” he said softly, his voice warm and m
eaningful. “Yes, I believe I do.” And he lowered his lips to hers, kissing her much longer than he knew she would want, and reveling in that knowledge. “I forgot to do that at the courthouse,” he said, explaining the kiss in a way April couldn’t refute in front of Bri.

  Her eyes snapped sparks at him, but he’d felt a slight response in her supple lips.

  “Well, don’t stand out there all night kissing her, Caleb,” Bri said, laughing. “She’s going to become the ice princess. Even though April looks like there’s no place she’d rather be than on that porch with you. But come on, you two. There’s time enough for that later.”

  April followed Bri inside, and he could almost feel the indignation in his bride as she stiffly walked, her knee-length, bell-shaped skirt snapping from side to side.

  He was starting to think that warming up an ice princess might be challenging. He loved a challenge.

  In the drawing room the whole clan waited until Caleb and April entered to erupt into approving applause. Astonished, April halted, so he took her hand in his to steady her. “Smile,” he said. “We’re in love.”

  “When you say it, I end up having to say it, so I wish you’d quit!” she complained under her breath.

  “Were you a flop in high-school theater?” he asked, also under his breath as he nodded his thanks for his family’s compliment to his bride.

  Glasses of champagne were lifted high to them as a butler passed by offering April and Caleb a flute. Adam called out, “Here’s to Mr. and Mrs. Caleb McCallum. May they be happy all their lives, and enjoy the fullest fruits of marriage!”

  If April turned any redder, Caleb thought, she would match the berries in the Christmas holly. “You’re cute when you’re caught,” he told her.

  “You’re annoying when you’re full of yourself.”

  He lifted his flute, clinking hers. They drank at the same time. “Don’t throw the glass,” he said with a wink.

  “At you?” she asked sweetly.

  “Into the fireplace. If you want to throw something, we’ll have a pillow fight later. In your house, where I’m going to walk in every night and call, ‘Honey, I’m home!”’

  “You’re going to learn to love that futon,” she said as he swung her into a dance when soft waltz music started.

  But he didn’t answer. Her waist was tiny in his hand, and she was beautiful, and not afraid of his admittedly somewhat overbearing cop personality, and…despite all their squaring off of territory, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so happy.

  That was the way he always wanted to remember this New Year’s.

  Happy.

  JUST BEFORE the stroke of midnight, Bri pushed Caleb and April under the mistletoe, which had been hanging in the big den since before Christmas.

  He playfully shooed Bri away. Then, knowing April was uncomfortable standing under the green-leafed token to encourage kissing while his family watched them, he said for April’s ears alone, “Make a wish. A wish for the new year.”

  “I wish with all my heart that you find Jenny,” she said quietly as he took her into his arms to the satisfied, happy laughter of his family. “Yours?”

  “The same,” he said, lowering his face to hers as his family counted, “Three, two, one! Happy New Year, everyone!”

  The family began singing auld lang syne, crackers were pulled, kisses enthusiastically exchanged—and none of it registered to Caleb as he finally kissed April, his bride.

  Bride for a while.

  APRIL WAS EXHAUSTED, as Caleb had to be as well. It had been a fast week, and no doubt they were both still suffering the aftereffects of the tension of Matthew being missing, and then jumping into tonight’s wedding.

  The electricity that snapped between them constantly was wearing, too. Possibly she’d had too much champagne to drink as she tried to act the joyful new bride.

  Caleb’s kiss at the stroke of midnight had taken the last of her reserve of energy to protest. It felt so good when he kissed her. She didn’t mind when he slipped his hand through hers and tugged her to the front door. His family tossed birdseed on them as she and Caleb ran to the car. Caleb helped April into the seat, then got in the driver’s side and switched the car on to warm it.

  “How about a honeymoon suite tonight?” he asked.

  She looked at him, surprised.

  Shrugging, he said, “Maybe it’s a good compromise for us until we figure out what we’re doing. I don’t really look forward to a futon on my wedding night, even if tonight is ‘just for looks.’ Your sofa is fine, but…”

  “A honeymoon suite just to sleep in?”

  “Dad said he knew my brother and sister would ask where we intended to spend our honeymoon. Since we’re not really having one, Dad fobbed them off with an excuse about our busy work schedules. Bri moaned that it wasn’t very romantic, and that she couldn’t bear the thought of us just going back to your house or my apartment after the wedding. Dad decided to try to put her mind at rest, and made reservations at a hotel just minutes outside of Austin as his wedding gift. I told you my sister has romantic rocks in her head,” he said with a grin. “But I think staying in a hotel tonight is probably a good idea, anyway.”

  “Why?”

  “I think it might be a good way to keep things from being awkward.”

  April considered that, admitting to herself that she was feeling anxious about their partnership. Maybe she might be less so if she weren’t so aware of Caleb as an attractive male—her senses tightened her body like wire every time he touched her. “Well, it would save us from having to debate sleeping arrangements. We could even get separate rooms at the hotel. Bri would never know.” She waited for his reaction to her offer, wondering if he was as apprehensive about tonight as she was. There were definite undercurrents of attraction between them—and it was probably best to try to ignore them.

  “Okay,” Caleb said. “We’ll take Dad up on his offer. And Bri said she and Adam loaded some wedding gifts in the trunk for us. We can open those later.”

  “Definitely later.” April turned her head to stare out the window, hiding her feelings of swift and startling disappointment. “In fact, we should just save them so that your brother and sister can return them to the store after we get a divorce,” she said, telling herself that was a rational plan.

  “That’s an idea.”

  But April wasn’t watching, so she missed the sudden worried look on Caleb’s face.

  TWENTY MINUTES LATER, April was awakened by Caleb saying her name. “Nurse Sullivan-McCallum,” he said in an official-sounding voice.

  “Not funny,” April replied, sitting up to tuck some wisps back into her upswept hair. “For just a minute, I thought I’d fallen asleep at the hospital and you were a doctor who’d caught me dozing.”

  “We’re here. Let’s go check in and I’ll carry you to your room. But not over the threshold.”

  “I can walk, but thank you for trying to be such a gentleman.” She got out of the car, waiting for him to meet her. They hurried inside the lobby, going straight to the desk.

  “We’re Mr. and Mrs. Caleb McCallum,” he told the desk clerk. “We have a reservation.”

  The clerk checked the computer. “Ah. The honeymoon suite. Right away, sir.”

  “We’d prefer two single rooms, if that’s possible,” April told the man, standing up on her toes so that she could see over the high, elaborate desk better.

  The clerk eyed her wedding attire with a carefully studied glance. “I’m sorry, ma’am. The conference that’s here has taken all the rooms except the honeymoon suite. You were lucky to get that.”

  April sank back onto her heels. “Oh, I see.”

  “It’s quite large,” the desk clerk said suddenly, his face noncommittal. “I’m certain you’ll find that the spacious accommodations will suit your needs.”

  She blushed, and Caleb took the key from the helpful man. “Thanks.” He tucked it into his pocket, took April by the hand to drag her across the marble f
loor to the elevator, punched the button, and when the doors opened, swept her up into his arms and carried her into the elevator.

  April could see the clerk staring over the counter, his studied expression gone, his mouth wide open.

  “Why did you do that?” April demanded, staring up at Caleb as her heart began a nervously thrilled hammering.

  “You said you couldn’t be swept, carried or ravished. I have now swept you off your feet.” The doors brushed open, and he purposefully carried her down the hall with long strides. “I have now carried you.”

  “Caleb—” April said, becoming slightly worried, and even worse, somehow warm with desire. All her tiredness and the calming lull of the champagne were gone.

  “But no ravishing,” he said as he opened the door to their suite. “I’m trying to set your mind at ease, because I can tell you’re just about to jump out of your skin with mistrust of me. That is, unless your unease is because you prefer to do the ravishing?”

  His hopeful tone broke the alarm she was feeling and made her laugh—as well as notice the twinge of regret she felt as he put out a hand, signaling for him to precede her into their suite. “I’m not much for ravishing, myself. Sorry.” But had the idea sounded kind of enticing to her love-starved ears?

  “Wait a minute,” he said, reaching out to snatch her back outside the door.

  “What are you doing?” she gasped, taken totally aback by his reversal.

  “I’ve had a change of heart. Every bride, even a short-term, impostor bride, should be carried over the threshold. I’m sorry, but I have to stand by my convictions.” He lifted her into his arms again, cradled her against his chest, held the door open with his foot and backed into the suite.

  She gazed up at him silently.

  He stared down at her, his eyebrow cocked. “No protests?”

  “I don’t think so,” she said, her voice tiny and somehow wondering. “What would you say if I told you I liked it? Very much?”

  Without another word, he laid her on the honeymoon bed. “I’d say nothing at all. I might even take it as encouragement.”

  They watched each other for a few seconds, April hesitating as she lay back, Caleb at her side, his arm crossed over her hip as he leaned on his hand for support. There was nothing in his eyes to be afraid of, she told herself. If she didn’t know it was all a cover-up, she’d say that their wedding night couldn’t have gone better. And she’d want it to last forever, if it was real.