A Father's Love. Cheryl Wolverton

she gripped her damp palms together in her lap. She didn’t like talking about that time. She had overcome most of what had happened.

      That was the catch, though.

      Most

      She knew there was still some bitterness and hurt there, but was at a loss how to let go of it.

      “Getting on with your life, Kaitland,” the pastor said. “I would never suggest anything that might hurt you. I feel you’re ready for this.” He paused, then, “The man is rich. I know your ex-fiancé was rich, too. I thought this might be the perfect opportunity for you to get out around that social set again and see that not all of them are like your ex-fiancé. Since I know this family and would trust them with my own sister, I feel you’d be safe. What do you say?”

      Perspiration broke out on Kaitland’s skin. She’d never told her pastor the name of her ex-fiancé as she’d started at this church after that fiasco. But her pastor talked about his friends a lot. It couldn’t be…it just couldn’t be.

      Still, she so desperately needed the money, she knew before she asked the next question that she was going to take the job. “Who is it?”

      “You’ve heard me talk about Rand and Max Stevens?” he asked easily.

      Her stomach sank to her toes even as she said, “I believe I have.”

      “Well, it seems there’s been some sort of mix-up and Max Stevens needs you out there immediately.”

      Kaitland smiled. Max Stevens might need someone immediately, but she doubted he was going to appreciate seeing the woman he had jilted five years ago.

      Nope, he wasn’t going to want to see Kaitland at all.

      But her pastor was right. Though he didn’t realize it, he was giving her the perfect opportunity to lay her past to rest. Kaitland took a deep breath. She was going back into the lion’s den and would come out unscathed this time.

       Chapter Two

      “Come here, che’rie. Just give me the baby powder and we’ll be okay.”

      Max Stevens, covered from head to toe in white dust, was down on all fours near the edge of the queen-size bed, holding out his hand coaxingly as he peppered his speech with Cajun words, trying to persuade the diaper clad little girl to hand over the dusting powder.

      Kaitland stood at the door and held back her laugh.

      “No! No! No! No! No!” The toddler accentuated each no with a bounce of her knees and a squeeze of the powder container, which puffed out its fine white sheen all over the forest green carpet.

      Max winced, shook his dark glossy hair in exasperation then promptly sneezed when he inhaled the dusty powder that floated in the air. Only a few hours had passed since he’d discovered the children, yet somehow, it felt longer. Much longer, Max reflected.

      “Come on, che’rie. Just give it to Uncle Max and let me change your diaper.”

      “No!” the little girl squealed, then threw the container at him and turned, dancing away on her toes toward the bed.

      “Thank you,” he said with the desperation of one totally besieged, but saw relief in sight when the little girl started to crawl up on the bed. He placed his hand on the mauve and green comforter to push himself up, but the other twin, who had been trying to pull off his shirt, suddenly decided it was playtime.

      “Horsey!” the young boy whooped. With a lunge, he shot forward, landing in the middle of Max’s back.

      “Oooaf!”

      Max went down.

      Kaitland burst into peels of laughter. “Felled by your own son, Max. I’m surprised. And you, who used to play football.”

      Max’s head jerked around at the familiar voice and his eyes widened incredulously. “Katie?” he gasped.

      “That’s right, Max. At least you remember my name…or should I say the name you’ve always called me.”

      She strode into the room, gliding into it as if she had every right to be there. Ignoring him, she crossed to where the little girl was lying on the bed, one toe in her mouth, the other foot waving around as she waited for a diaper. Grabbing a diaper bag, Kaitland pulled out the wipes and then quickly, efficiently cleaned and diapered the child.

      Max couldn’t get over how good Katie looked as he knelt there in the middle of the powder-caked floor.

      It had been five years. She hadn’t aged, just gotten more graceful. Her honey blond hair was now straight instead of permed, but it was more beautiful, swaying to and fro with every step she took. She’d filled out a little, was more rounded, softer-looking, not as coltish as he remembered. Long, graceful hands worked quickly and expertly to diaper and dress the girl in a pink romper that was in the bag she’d pulled up onto the bed.

      Her high cheekbones were slightly flushed with color and her lips were puckered as she made cooing noises to Maddie. Maddie laughed and kicked both feet in approval to whatever Kaitland had said.

      And those eyes.

      Her green eyes still sparkled like jewels when she laughed.

      Five years and he’d thought never to see her in his house again…His eyes widened. “What are you doing here?” he blurted out, realizing he was seeing her in his house and had no idea why.

      Kaitland glanced over her shoulder, a sardonic brow lifted. “I’m changing a diaper, Max. Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a diaper changed.”

      Chagrined by her answer, Max opened his mouth to tell her he knew exactly what she was doing and that was not what he’d meant, but Kaitland continued, “The girl doesn’t look much like you, but now the boy…My, Max, he could be your twin, but you already have one of those, don’t you?” Her light tone was in contrast to her sudden intense stare at the child.

      “They’re not mine.”

      “Oh, really?” Kaitland asked, lifting Maddie in her arms. “And what is this one’s name?” she asked, bouncing the little girl on her hip.

      “Madeline Renée.”

      “And the boy?”

      “Maxwell Robert,” he replied, suddenly realizing how Kaitland would take the fact that the boy’s first name was the same as his own.

      “And he’s not yours,” she said so falsely that Max flushed. She was always able to goad his temper.

      “No. They are not!” He enunciated each word.

      “I see, little Max,” she said, winking at the boy.

      “I’ve been calling him Bobby.”

      “Bobby?” Kaitland asked before giving Maddie a peck and letting her down on the floor.

      “Well, it would seem rather odd to call him Max, now, wouldn’t it?” Max demanded as she crossed the room.

      “I don’t know,” Kaitland mused aloud, pausing to tap her chin as if in deep thought. Then, for the first time, she pierced him with those deep green eyes. “A lot of people name their firstborn son after themselves.”

      “He’s not my firstborn son!”

      “You have another?” she asked, all innocence.

      “I don’t have any son,” he growled, then took a deep breath. “Look. It’s hard to explain. I woke up to what I thought was a cat brawl and found these two at the bottom of the balcony steps near the kitchen.”

      “I see.”

      “No. You don’t see. I have no idea who they belong to. Though it’s