His Twin Baby Surprise

by Patricia Forsythe

  Lisa stared at her and then at Ben, who was having a great chat with Sandy, his distinctive rumbling chuckle breaking out. That happiness would disappear the minute Lisa told him the news.

  She fought a ripple of hysteria as she looked from Maureen’s solemn face to Ben’s laughing one. Maureen, who hadn’t had time for her at Aunt Violet’s funeral, wanted to talk to her now. But Lisa had to talk to Ben first. She couldn’t put it off.

  “I’m...I’m so sorry. I can’t see you—at least not now. I’ve got...”

  “I understand,” Maureen said, standing. “Maybe we can try again later.”

  “Yes, later,” Lisa agreed, even though her excellent memory reminded her that “later” seemed to always be the time when Maureen was departing. She had to take that chance, though. When she did talk to her mother, she wanted to be able to give the conversation her full attention and she couldn’t do that until she’d dealt with Ben.

  Lisa scooped her cell phone out of her pants pocket. “Do you have a phone? Can you give me your number? I’ll call you as soon as I’m free.”

  Of course, there was no guarantee that Maureen would answer if she did call.

  Maureen gave a nervous little smile, supplied her number and left, the door swinging silently shut behind her. She hadn’t asked for Lisa’s number.

  As she tried to control her reaction to the double shock of seeing both Maureen and Ben, Lisa watched Ben charm Sandy’s socks off. She wouldn’t have been surprised to see her receptionist’s eyes suddenly turn into beating pink hearts like a love-struck cartoon character’s.

  It wasn’t simply that he was handsome, with his rich, dark auburn hair, dark gray eyes, thick lashes and strong, square chin. It wasn’t only his size. He was a big man, at least six foot four, slimmed down somewhat from his days as a linebacker in the NFL, but still muscled and strong. The thing was that Ben was genuinely interested in everyone and could focus his attention on the person he was listening to as if they were the most interesting human on earth. When he listened, he leaned in from the waist, turned his head slightly and narrowed his dark gray eyes just a little, as if he wanted to block out the rest of the world and everything in it. When he smiled, deep dimples appeared, and when he laughed, he threw back his head and didn’t hold anything in.

  As if all of that wasn’t enough, his voice had a rolling timbre that made everyone in any gathering stop their own conversations to turn and hear what he had to say. The Oklahoma drawl that she’d heard all around her every day of her life was somehow more enthralling when it came from him.

  That Southern Gentleman Charm should be labeled as a lethal weapon.

  Lisa’s heart fluttered anxiously. She’d been on the receiving end of that charm and look where that had gotten her.

  Automatically she sucked in her stomach, although it was still perfectly flat, and reached over to the coat tree by her office door to snag the jacket that matched her slacks.

  As she did that, the office door swung open and Calvin Swenson, the deliveryman, stopped in with a package. He recognized Ben and shook his hand, saying, “Man, it’s good to see you, Ben. You gonna be around for a while?”

  “A few months, at least, Cal. I’ve got some work around here.”

  “Let’s get together, go fishing. Trout are biting out on the lake and the season ends in a few weeks.”

  “Let’s do that,” Ben answered. “Let’s see if Junior Fedder can join us. I’ll give you a call.”

  “Yeah. Have you seen him? There was a time he couldn’t have fit in my boat, but he’s dropped some major pounds.”

  “Good for him.” Ben seemed genuinely pleased. “I haven’t seen him in months, but I’ll give him a call and let you know.”

  With a happy nod, Calvin left and Lisa shook her head. Everyone wanted to spend time with him. Ben charmed all living creatures. Men, women, children, dogs, cats—it didn’t matter. Everyone fell under his spell.

  Finally, Ben leaned over Sandy’s desk and gave her a smile that threatened to melt her into a puddle as he said, “Hey, beautiful, it’s been great catching up with you, but I need to talk to Lisa.”

  Sandy looked concerned. “Oh, I gave her your messages. Didn’t she call?”

  Lisa watched as Sandy turned her head and gave her a look that suggested she had betrayed all womankind by not returning Ben’s calls.

  “Nah, but it’s okay. I know she’s the busiest Realtor in six counties and you’re the best assistant, so I know she got the messages.”

  Sandy, mother of three and married to a good man for twenty years, fluttered her eyelashes and fluffed her hair again. “Oh, Ben, you’re so sweet to say that.”

  “I only speak the truth.”

  Lisa decided it was time to step in. Steeling herself, she plastered a polite smile on her face and stepped forward as she casually fastened the three buttons down the front of her jacket. She was delighted that she had worn four-inch heels today. It put her closer to eye level with him. “Here I am, Ben. Come on into my office. What can I do for you?”

  He gave Sandy another wink that made her giggle and strode into Lisa’s office. As soon as she shut the door behind him, he turned to her, swept the sides of his jacket aside to plant his hands at his waist and said, “Why have you been ducking my phone calls?”

  “Oh, well...” Lisa paused, indicating that he should sit as she returned to her chair and put the width of her desk between them. “I’ve been very busy.” She tried to sound professional as she folded her suddenly damp hands on top of her desk and asked, “Were you interested in seeing another property?”

  He raised an eyebrow at her as he removed the leather jacket he wore with crisp jeans and a dark blue shirt. As he sat, he said, “No, I’m interested in finding out why you won’t talk to me, why you’ve avoided every one of my calls since that night in Chicago.” He balanced his cowboy hat on his knee as he watched her face. The laid-back charm dropped away and he became laser-focused. “Can you tell me why?”

  Heat flooded her features and her gaze jerked away. She really didn’t want to think about that night, but she knew she had to tell him the consequences of the time they’d spent together.

  “I was worried about you,” he went on, obviously realizing she wasn’t going to answer. “I wanted to know if you’d made it home safely.”

  Lisa gave a nervous laugh and held out her hands. “As you can see, I got home just fine.”

  His lips twisted. “I do see that, but would it have killed you to let me know?”

  “Um, well, I...I thought that...” She let her voice trail off, unable to articulate how she’d felt the next morning and for days afterward as she’d questioned her actions—the need, the abandonment of self-control—that had driven her into his arms.

  He leaned forward and pitched his voice low. “Contrary to popular opinion, I’m not the love-’em-and-leave-’em type. I wouldn’t do that.”

  Lisa’s eyes widened at the fierceness of his tone. She did know that. Every woman he’d dated in Reston was still his good buddy, so it was obvious he hadn’t treated any of them badly.

  “I...I guess I—”

  Her words stumbled to a stop. He waited, but she didn’t know what she’d been going to say except, “I don’t do things like—”

  “Like what happened in Chicago?”

  Ben looked at her thoughtfully, then said, “No, what you do is try to control every situation you’re in. You’ve been that way since we were kids.” He gave her a rueful smile. “Even before you broke me out of jail. That seemed to give you a sense of your own power.”

  She stared at him. She’d had no idea he’d realized that about her.

  He went on, “I’ve barely seen you in the past fifteen years, but I know that’s probably still true.” He paused. When she didn’t answer, he prompted her. “Isn’t it?�
��

  Lifting her chin, she gave him a steady look. “Yes, which is why I’ve got a successful business.”

  “Which is why you look a little pale.” His eyes narrowed. “Do you ever get out in the sun? Take a hike? Go fishing?”

  Glancing away, she didn’t answer but felt color rushing into her face.

  “That’s better,” he said approvingly. “You know, Lisa, a person can be successful and still have some fun in life. Do you ever have fun?” He gave her a sly grin. “Other than with me?”

  Lisa pressed her lips together. There was absolutely no way she was going to answer that.

  He waited for a second, then turned on his winning smile, the one that was so warm and convincing. “Hey, how about I take you to lunch? Have you had lunch?”

  She’d barely managed to keep down her breakfast. Lunch wasn’t even on her radar yet. She didn’t have to answer, though, because her intercom buzzed.

  “Sorry to interrupt, Lisa,” Sandy said, “but Mayor Morton heard that Ben’s in town and says it’s urgent that he speak to him.”

  “Ben?” The mayor’s voice boomed into the room, making both Lisa and Ben jump. “You in there? I’ve been trying to call you, but I guess I had the wrong number. I need to see you, and it’ll take a while.”

  Ben gave Lisa a pained look as he called out, “Coming, Mayor Morton.”

  The intercom clicked off and Ben stood. “He always thinks his business is more important than anyone else’s.”

  Lisa knew that was true, but in spite of her determination to tell Ben about the baby, at this moment she could have kissed Harley Morton full on the lips.

  Ben gave her a direct look. “I’ll call you later,” he said. “Please answer.”

  He shut the door behind him, leaving Lisa to reach for the glass of water on her desk and gulp down a long drink to try to settle her stomach. She should have known he would seek her out when they were both back in Reston. She had avoided telling Ben about the baby long enough. It was time to take action. She couldn’t have him coming here, flirting with Sandy, interrupting the routine—reminding Lisa of the night they’d shared.

  She wouldn’t tell him over the phone or at her place of business, though. She would go to his house at Riverbend Ranch later and tell him. That way, she could escape when she needed to.

  * * *

  BEN STOOD ON the bottom rail of the cedar fence and gazed across the pasture. Delighted, he grinned at the sight of a mare and her foal running through the dried grass, their hooves kicking up chunks of dirt as they went. Tailspin, so named because of the swirl of dark red spots that circled her rump, took her colt, Prince’s Folly, from one end of the pasture to the other. At three months the colt was similarly marked, but his spots were a darker red.

  Ben was fascinated by the play of muscles beneath their shiny coats, their smooth-gaited run and their tricolored manes and tails—brown to red to blond—that rippled in the wind. He didn’t know if that type of mane was rare or not. He’d have to ask Jason Littletrees about it.

  It was relaxing to watch the horses run, to see the mustangs adjusting to their new home. The simple pleasure of it was something he could understand.

  Lisa Thomas was something he didn’t understand at all. He’d gone to see her as soon as he’d returned to this place, gotten the herd moved in with Jason’s help and settled a few other things. It annoyed him that she wouldn’t talk to him, and he didn’t like being annoyed. He liked things settled, his relationships uncomplicated, easy. Not that he and Lisa had any kind of relationship. They didn’t even have a friendship.

  He could blame Harley Morton for interrupting them today, but the truth was he wasn’t sure he could have convinced Lisa to have lunch with him. She hadn’t wanted to talk to him and she’d looked pale and distressed—really distressed—to have him in her office. He wasn’t accustomed to having that effect on a woman.

  “Ben.”

  His dad’s voice broke into his thoughts. Ben had almost forgotten he was there.

  “Yes?”

  “Are you sure about this, son?” Jim McAdams asked, grunting slightly as he pulled himself up beside Ben on the tall fence. “What is the purpose of having horses you can’t race, or train to work cattle, or train for the rodeo?”

  “What are you talking about, Dad? These mustangs can do all those things and more, and have been doing it for centuries.” Ben looked at his father, who just shook his head. “They’re not big, but they’re bred for endurance and can outdistance most other breeds. I can’t believe you’ve lived your whole life in southeastern Oklahoma and you’ve never heard of the Choctaw Wild Mustangs.”

  “I’ve heard of them. I just never saw any reason to own or breed them. I can’t believe Jason has talked you into starting your own herd. You don’t know much about horses.”

  “I’ll learn. Besides, it’s an opportunity to help save the Oklahoma Heritage Horse.” Ben liked the idea of preserving the breed for posterity. And why not? He had the money and the resources.

  Jim hooked an arm around a tall fence post and rubbed his chin. “Yeah, I guess that’s important, but it sounds expensive.”

  Ben’s lips twisted ironically. “I don’t doubt it for a minute, but it’ll be worth it.”

  “To each his own, I guess. I’ve given up trying to keep track of all the things you want to spend your money on.”

  With a chuckle Ben said, “That’s probably a good choice.”

  He watched as Jim looked around at the acreage that encompassed Riverbend Ranch, so named because the Kinnick River made a dogleg bend at the edge of the property. The grass-covered land, long since shorn of all but a few stands of trees, sloped to a stock pond then lifted to rolling hills. The acreage was big enough for the herd of thirty mustangs to run free, but the pastures were secured by solid fences. Two wooden barns were situated beside the corral, and the house stood on a rise a few hundred yards away.

  Even at his most generous, the only word Ben could think of to describe it was ramshackle.

  The main house had been built in the nineteen twenties, added onto several times since then and been unoccupied for many years. The floors were a patchwork of wood—some maple, some pine—and none of them flush. Most had a strip of wood at the bottom of the doorway to smoothen the transition from one room to the next, but Ben had tripped a dozen times already. He’d finally learned to walk on his heels and lift his toes when going from one room to another to minimize the danger of falling.

  Most of the doors had warped in the heat and humidity of past summers so that now only a few of them would close all the way. The ones that did close were hard to open, only coming free with hard jerks and a few well-placed kicks. All the electrical and plumbing needed to be updated and the place cried for paint and wallpaper. His great-grandmother would probably have felt right at home with the ancient appliances in the kitchen.

  But Ben didn’t care what the place looked like or how inconvenient it was. He’d never been a nester. Too many other things to do. Once he got the herd established, he wouldn’t be there much.

  “I’d tear that house down if I were you. Build a smaller one,” Jim said. “It’s falling apart, anyway, and much too big for one person.” He gave Ben a sidelong look. “Unless you plan to have a family to fill it up.”

  “Dad, you know that’s never been in my plans.” He lifted his hand and made a circular motion that encompassed the ranch. “At least I’ve got my own place in Reston so you know I’ll be around part of the year.”

  Jim shook his head. “Just part of the year? Yeah, I know. Places to go, things to do. Your mother and I have long since given up any hope of being grandparents.”

  “I know, Dad.” They’d had this conversation so many times Ben didn’t even feel the need to engage in it. He simply gave his stock answer. “I know it’s a disappointment
to you, but that’s just the way it is.”

  His father answered with a long-suffering sigh and went back to their original topic. “Who’s gonna take care of this place when you’re off on one of your projects, or chasing around the world on the next wild hare you get?”

  Ben didn’t take offense. He and his dad would never see eye-to-eye. “Jason Littletrees is looking for someone.”

  “He’ll find someone. The whole Littletrees family is involved with horses one way or another.”

  “Yes. Hadn’t seen him in years, but we ran into each other at the Choctaw Nation Labor Day Festival in Tuskahoma last fall. He was showing some mustangs there—”

  “And you thought, ‘Great! Here’s another way to burn up some money.’”

  “Dad.”

  Jim looked chagrined. “Sorry. Knee-jerk reaction. Well, at least Jason is trustworthy, and I guess he’ll find someone who knows these mustangs.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “I was happy with registered quarter horses and, since I don’t ride anymore, it doesn’t matter.” Jim stepped down, taking a moment to steady himself against the cedar rails.

  “Is your leg bothering you?” Ben asked, forgetting about his horses for a minute. He hopped down from the fence to stand beside Jim.

  “Nah, no worse than usual,” Jim answered with a shrug, but he bent over to rub his left knee. “Five years since I rolled my truck on that ice patch, and it doesn’t get any better. Doesn’t matter. I can still do what I need to do. As long as I can keep working, I’m happy.”

  “I know, Dad.” It saddened Ben to think of his father never taking time for a vacation, or any kind of break, but as the old man said, “To each his own.”

  “By the way,” Jim said, “Harley Morton’s been trying to get in touch with you. Did he find you?”

  “Yes. I talked to him today.”

  “What did he want?”

  Ben stifled a laugh. His dad absolutely couldn’t help himself. He had to be involved in everything, know everything. “He wants me to run a football camp this summer. Apparently he’s convinced Wolfchild Whitmire that they need to do this out at the Whitmires’ old campground.”