Assignment: Twins. Leigh Michaels

      He thought about handing one of them to the foreman, but as if she’d read his mind, Anna grumbled and nestled closer. Well, the babies would just have to lump it for a minute, Seth decided. As long as he kept a close eye on them, they’d be as safe on the ground as anywhere.

      He squatted down and set them on the lawn. Zack instantly grabbed a handful of the trampled grass and put it in his mouth. Anna yelped, clutched at Seth’s jeans, and tried to pull herself to a standing position. He hoped his belt buckle wouldn’t suddenly give way.

      Seth signed the ticket, folded his copy, and stuck it in his shirt pocket, then bent to pick up Zack, who had green saliva trickling down his chin. “Come on, champ, spit it out,” he ordered.

      “And then we need you to move the SUV out of the driveway so we can get the truck out,” the foreman added.

      You can park over there, out of the way of the delivery truck, he’d told Nikki. But she had refused to move the SUV, and he’d forgotten to. He smothered a groan, picked up the babies, and hauled them back around to the front of the house.

      The hell with it, he thought. It was only ten in the morning, but he might as well call it a day. He wasn’t going to accomplish anything with a twin grafted to each arm, anyway. And since he’d have to buckle them back in again so he could move the SUV fifty feet, he might as well take them home where they could play in the grass without risking splinters and stray roofing nails.

      Only after he got them both settled in the back seat and slid behind the wheel did he realize that his key wasn’t in the ignition switch. In fact, it wasn’t anywhere to be found.

      Nikki’s luck held. The traffic had lightened up in the few minutes while she was stopped in Rockhurst. And instead of having to drive five blocks past the bank and then get dizzy swooping around a parking ramp to find a spot to leave her car, she managed to filch the last parking place on the street directly in front of the building. It was a one-hour spot, however, and that helped to make her more brisk than usual at the closing, hurrying things along as much as she dared.

      As soon as the last papers were signed, she stood up and started to briskly shake hands all around. “What’s your hurry, Nikki?” the banker asked. “I thought you and I would have lunch at that new little bistro on Country Club Plaza.”

      “It’s much too early for lunch.”

      “Of course it is,” he said gently. “I’ll pick you up at the office later.”

      “Oh—I’m sorry, Richard, but I can’t. I have a long list for today.” The excuse sounded—and felt—a bit feeble, but she didn’t feel like explaining the twins, the cruise ship, and the virus in front of clients and bank staff. “I’ll call you later in the week,” she added, and gathered up her briefcase.

      Richard Houston didn’t look pleased, but he didn’t argue.

      The new homeowners had stopped on the sidewalk to wait for her, to thank her and invite her for dinner as soon as they got moved in. Nikki smiled vaguely and said she’d be in touch, and she practically ran to her car.

      It had been locked while she was in the bank, of course, and the sunshine pouring through the glass had heated the leather of her seat till it was buttery soft and soothingly warm against her back, helping to relax the tension in her muscles.

      The heat also seemed to have activated the scent of the leather—and something else, she noticed. Something clean-scented and musky and vaguely familiar. Seth’s aftershave, she concluded. She wondered how long that aroma would linger.

      At the office, she gave the finished paperwork on the closing to Jen to be filed, picked up her messages, and looked wearily at the courier package which had finally come full circle back to the office. She’d probably better deliver it in person rather than take a chance on another delay.

      “Also, Bryan wants to see you,” Jen added. “He’s in his office.”

      No doubt her fellow salesperson was going to rib her about the MacIntyres’ counteroffer, Nikki thought. Well, there was nothing she could do about it now except smile. Telling Bryan what had really happened to sidetrack the courier package would only amuse him more.

      Bryan was on the phone, so she started to walk on past his cubicle. But he beckoned her in and waved her to a chair while he ended his call. “It’s an important day for you, Nikki. I thought perhaps you’d like a hand to figure out your strategy for Neil Harrison.”

      The auto-plant tycoon. At least it wasn’t about the MacIntyres. Not that Nikki was any happier to be talking to Bryan about Neil Harrison, especially since she was going to have to admit that she couldn’t stick around the office long enough today even to meet the man, much less show him houses.

      “It’s nice of you to offer to help,” she said. “As a matter of fact—”

      “Oh, I’m happy to give you my advice,” Bryan went on. “It’s all in finding the right strategy, Nikki. You know, of course, that men look at houses differently than women do. Women will look at anything and everything which vaguely resembles their needs. They’ll make a full-time job of house-hunting, while men want to look at just one place and be done with it.”

      Ordinarily Nikki would have objected to the generalization, but today she didn’t have any room to maneuver. Bryan might be a sexist jerk at times, but he was a good salesman—and he was in a position to bail her out of a jam. If she asked him for help directly, however, he’d never let her hear the end of it.

      It’s all in finding the right strategy, Nikki, she told herself. “You know, it’s funny,” she mused, “but I was just thinking about that very thing. The original call came to me because of the ordinary rotation, but I was wondering if Mr. Harrison wouldn’t rather have a man show him around.”

      Bryan didn’t react at all for a moment. Then he said, sounding wary, “That isn’t like you, Nikki. Not grabbing a challenge—and the chance at a big commission.”

      Nikki tried to look innocent. “I just want to do what’s best for the firm. You’re right that this is a very important client, and I’d much rather have you make the sale—and get the commission—than for me to fall short and get nothing.”

      Bryan propped his elbows on the arms of his chair and clasped his hands together. “What’s wrong with him, Nikki?” Suspicion dripped from his voice.

      “Wrong? Nothing, as far as I know. I’ve never met the man. I just thought you could probably read his reactions better than I could. You know, man to man.”

      Bryan hesitated, then smiled slowly. “Well, that’s certainly true. All right, I don’t have anything better to do this afternoon. Which property were you going to show him first?”

      “I hadn’t decided yet,” Nikki said truthfully. She wasn’t about to volunteer that she hadn’t even started to make a list, much less prioritize it. “And I wouldn’t want to cloud your judgment, anyway. Let me know how it goes, all right?”

      She dug into her briefcase for her car key, and pulled out two. Her own, and Seth’s.

      He was going to kill her. Worse, she didn’t blame him.

      It was just past noon when Nikki got back to the house. The SUV was in the driveway, and she breathed a sigh of relief—though she still almost tiptoed into the kitchen, wary of fallout.

      Seth was washing dishes while the twins played on the floor at his feet, creating a mad symphony with pan lids for cymbals and wooden spoons for drumsticks. He looked up when she came in, but he didn’t comment.

      Relieved, she set her briefcase on the counter and picked up a towel. “I guess the fact that you’re here means you must have a spare key.”

      “Now I do,” Seth said dryly.

      Nikki bit her lip. “I’m really sorry. It’s force of habit to never leave a key in the ignition. Living in the city, driving in all kinds of neighborhoods…”