The Miracle Twins. Lisa Bingham

and stepped onto the verdant strip of grass that bordered the curb. After a moment’s pause, the taxi rolled away, then disappeared entirely behind a bend in the road.

      Instantly, Lucy felt oh, so alone.

      A soft breeze caressed her cheek, the cool, moist air a harbinger of spring. As she walked up the terraced path, Lucy noticed that the trees were still skeletal. But the fuzzy tips of a pussy willow near the front stoop gave ample testimony that winter was losing its grip. Lucy had always loved spring. In her mind, it was a time for new beginnings.

      So why was she about to dredge up the past?

      Making a face, Lucy knew she’d had little choice. Nick Hammond was a spectacular surgeon, and right now she needed his skills.

      What will he think when he sees me on his doorstep? Will he smile?

      “More likely, he’ll kick you off the premises,” she told herself. Then, knowing there was no point in avoiding the inevitable, she started up the steps.

      So much had happened to bring her to this point—and so much rested on the next few minutes. There was no plan B. If Nick refused to help her, she didn’t know what she’d do.

      He had to help her. Nick had never been a petty man. He wouldn’t send her away without hearing her out.

      At least…she hoped he wouldn’t send her away.

      As she lifted her hand to ring the bell, Lucy prayed she could keep her wits about her for just a little longer. Her temples throbbed from a killer case of jet lag. Worse yet, she was trapped in a time warp; her mind moved sluggishly and her motor skills were only slightly better.

      Don’t think about that now. Think about the children and only the children.

      Straightening her shoulders in renewed determination she passed a hand over her short hair, and pressed the doorbell. From deep within the house, she could hear the sound reverberating.

      As she waited for the door to be answered, Lucy recited the same litany she’d repeated a thousand times since leaving Africa. Nick is a reasonable man. A professional. Once you’ve explained your predicament, he’s bound to help you. He would never let the past interfere.

      Or would he?

      They hadn’t parted on the best of terms. Nick had felt humiliated, while Lucy—

      When Lucy had turned to walk away from Nick, the judge and the witnesses, Lucy had seen the main door like a trapped animal who’d spied a hole in the fence. The moment she was out of sight of the wedding party, she’d started to run.

      And she’d been running from the memory ever since.

      No. She wouldn’t think about that now. The past was past, and the decision she’d made to cancel her wedding had been the right one. Lucy wasn’t the “marrying kind”—and she’d proven that to herself time and time again. She grew jittery and uncomfortable if she stayed in one place too long. The pressures of her job, the travel and risk involved, didn’t lend themselves to even the most casual of relationships, let alone marriage.

      Wrenching her thoughts back to the matter at hand, Lucy scowled. Lights blazed from most of the windows. Yet several minutes had gone by and no one had appeared.

      Ringing the doorbell again, Lucy cursed the fact that she hadn’t asked the cabdriver to wait. With her luck, she’d come all this way only to be marooned until Nick returned from some emergency at the hospital. True, she had her cell phone, but after gathering enough courage to face Nick tonight, she didn’t plan on leaving until she’d seen him.

      Irritated, Lucy pressed the doorbell a third time, keeping her finger on the button for several seconds. Then she punctuated her imperious summons by banging the brass door knocker.

      “Where is he?” she muttered.

      Abruptly she froze, knowing that any minute the door would open and she would be face-to-face with Nick Hammond, the only man who’d ever made her knees quake.

      What would be her reaction after all these years? Would she still feel an instant tug of attraction?

      No. It wasn’t possible. Too much time had passed. She wasn’t the same woman she’d been then. Her experiences had hardened her. She couldn’t possibly—

      The door flew open and Lucy’s heart stopped in her chest, then began a slow, sluggish beat.

      This was the man she’d refused to marry?

      A hot tide seeped into her cheeks and she was infused with embarrassment. She’d obviously interrupted Nick in the middle of a shower. He stood before her wearing nothing but a robe, his hair dark and spiky with moisture. Water dappled his bare skin, stray droplets streaking his chest.

      A bolt of heat shot through her body and settled low in her abdomen. She swallowed against the dryness gathering in her throat, knowing that if she tried to talk, her voice would emerge as a croak.

      “Lucy?”

      Her name was a mere breath of sound, but it brushed her senses like a caress.

      Talk to him, idiot. Say something. You can’t stand here gaping at the man.

      “Nick.” His name was garbled and barely audible, and she cleared her throat. “Hello.”

      To his credit, Nick kept his composure. In fact, other than the slight tightening of his fingers around his belt, he appeared completely unaffected by her sudden arrival. His features smoothed into an expressionless mask and his eyes became hooded, giving nothing away.

      Why didn’t he say something? Why did he keep looking at her as if she had suddenly appeared from an alien planet?

      Lucy thrust her hands into the pockets of her jacket, shivering in the cool spring air. But it wasn’t the chill of spring that caused her skin to tingle. As his gaze slipped down her body, gooseflesh pebbled her skin. Lucy tried to meet his inspection with one of her own, but as she absorbed the sight of his nearly naked body, she knew she would be a fool to continue. Her mind might insist that she was over her college infatuation, but her body had a different idea.

      Fastening her eyes on the faint cleft in his chin, she refused to look down. She was only concerned with his mind and his hands, the main tools of a surgeon.

      Liar.

      When the silence grew even more uncomfortable, Lucy said, “Are you going to let me in?”

      Nick’s gaze intensified—as if he was trying to divine the reason for her sudden appearance. But finally he stepped back, making a sweeping gesture with his arm.

      “Be my guest.”

      Lucy brushed past him into a narrow entry hall. As she did so, she was inundated with the scents of shampoo and soap.

      Not for the first time, Lucy rued the fact that she’d been forced to come to Nick for help. She’d investigated several other surgeons. But whenever she’d reviewed her list, she’d known that Nick was her only real choice.

      So she’d taken a flight to Salt Lake City, insisting to herself that the past didn’t have any bearing on her current mission. She’d eventually begun to believe that she could deal with Nick in a manner that was both friendly and detached.

      But now she wasn’t so sure.

      You’re tired, that’s all. Weariness can do funny things to a person.

      “Take a seat in the living room.”

      He pointed at a small space to her right. White walls and a minimum of furniture offered a slightly neglected appearance—as if Nick spent as little time in his home as she did in her apartment in Chicago. It was a bachelor’s domain, dominated by a huge sound-and-television system, a battered recliner and a table piled high with medical journals. There were no telltale signs of a woman—no bric-a-brac, no photographs, no hint of lace or flowers.

      Lucy couldn’t deny that his single status—if she’d guessed correctly—would