Twins Times Two!. Lisa Bingham

      Since Ross was still waiting, she reluctantly handed him the duffel bag, all the while wishing she hadn’t agreed to stay for coffee. She was playing with fire and had no doubts that she would get burned.

      Ross led the way through the big, silent house, offering Cara glimpses of rooms that were lushly decorated but curiously devoid of color. At long last they reached the kitchen with its white cabinets, pale tile and pale marble counters.

      Who was responsible for the absence of color in the house? Was it a designer’s decision or had Ross made the choice?

      “Have a seat,” Ross said, gesturing to a pair of stools drawn up to an ornate center island.

      “Decaf or regular coffee,” he asked.

      “Decaf.”

      Ross shrugged out of his jacket and laid it over a chair. As he moved to prepare the coffee, her gaze immediately latched on to the crisp starched shirt. The long evening had rumpled the fabric at his back.

      Cara didn’t know why, but the sight was oddly intimate and exciting. Inexplicably Cara found herself wondering who starched those shirts, ironed them and hung them in his closet. A cleaning service? A housekeeper? Stibbs?

      Or a woman who had already begun to heal his grieving heart?

      “So…you’re a regular with the Mom Squad?”

      She jumped, her gaze bouncing away from Ross when he suddenly turned and caught her staring.

      “Yes. I’m one of the founding partners.”

      One of his brows rose. He had dark eyes, expressive eyes, and even when he was apparently relaxed, they were filled with such a poignant sadness that Cara wanted to take him into her arms.

      Stop it! The man isn’t a wounded bird to bring home and keep warm in a shoebox.

      But hadn’t she always had a soft heart for wounded animals and strays? Isn’t that how she’d found herself marrying her first husband? She’d met Elliot when he’d been on the rebound from a three-year relationship, and she’d been determined to make him smile again.

      Little had she known…

      “If you’re one of the founding partners of the Mom Squad, why are you still taking baby-sitting jobs?” Ross asked, bringing her thoughts abruptly back to the present.

      Not wanting to wallow in the past, Cara concentrated on the man in front of her instead. There was a simple grace to his movements as he measured the grounds and water into a gleaming stainless steel coffeemaker. Then he reached into an overhead cabinet for mugs. She watched transfixed as his shirt pulled taut, revealing the muscular outlines of his back.

      Ross Gifford was certainly fit. Healthy.

      Beautiful.

      Cara forced herself to look away. “I’m the company accountant, but I fill in when there’s a need.”

      “Your husband doesn’t object to the late nights?”

      “My husband?” Briefly, she thought of Elliot. Elliot definitely would have complained about the late hours if she hadn’t left their relationship long before the Mom Squad was formed.

      “You mentioned you had twin girls.”

      She stared at him blankly, her pulse knocking at her throat, then realized that she had offered the information before she’d seen Ross’s children.

      He doesn’t know anything. Keep your cool.

      “Yes. They’re…three.” The information was offered carefully, slowly. She watched Ross for a hint of unease but there was no reaction—not that she should have expected one.

      “Boys or girls?”

      Her heart thumped again.

      “Girls.”

      “Twins can be a handful, can’t they?”

      She nodded. “They’re a challenge at times, especially for a new mom.”

      He leaned his hips against the counter. “New mom?”

      “The children are…were my brother’s, actually. But he was killed a year ago. Since then the girls have lived with me.”

      For a moment the room thrummed with the reminder that life could be changed in a heartbeat. Then Ross straightened and reached into cupboards again, removing sugar and spoons, then grabbed a carton of cream from the refrigerator.

      “So you’re a single mom?”

      Now why did it seem as if he’d put a slight emphasis on the word single?

      “Yes. I was married once. Briefly.” Enough. He doesn’t need to know any of this. He’s merely making polite conversation. “What happened?”

      She shrugged, hoping that she didn’t appear as vulnerable and exposed as she felt.

      “My husband…my ex-husband and I grew apart.”

      The simple reply was an understatement. Elliot Wells was charismatic, charming and driven. As CEO of a fast-track marketing firm, he had dazzled her with his sophistication and discipline. He’d wooed her with wildly romantic rendezvous, expensive gifts and just the right amount of flattery and adoration.

      But soon after marrying him, Cara had discovered that Elliot was a control freak who had married her because she made an excellent “trophy wife.” She was beautiful and biddable—the perfect requirements in Elliot’s estimation. Little had she known that Elliot kept a mistress on the side—someone who was passionate and spontaneous but not an acceptable business hostess.

      “I take it the divorce wasn’t amicable.”

      She grimaced. “How can you tell?”

      “The long silence speaks volumes, I’m afraid.”

      “As I said, we grew apart. Soon we didn’t have the same goals for the future. Elliot wanted to make as much money in as little time as possible.”

      “And what did you want?”

      She didn’t even have to think. “Happiness.”

      “Have you found it?”

      Her smile was quick. “Yes. In a pair of irascible twins.”

      Ross filled their mugs with coffee and handed her one. Then he took a seat on the nearest stool.

      She was immediately conscious of the firm musculature revealed beneath the fine fabric of his trousers. She could all but feel the heat of his body seeping into her own.

      Cara took a quick sip of coffee, then gulped and began to cough when it burned her tongue.

      “It’s hot,” Ross offered too late.

      She laughed, then coughed again. Ross smiled—briefly, ever so briefly, but long enough for his amusement to momentarily chase away the shadows in his eyes. And at that moment she saw a glimpse of just how devastatingly handsome this man could be when he wasn’t so sober.

      Setting his own mug on the counter, Ross pounded her obligingly on the back. In an instant the frivolity of the moment faded away leaving a potent awareness.

      Without warning, Cara felt his fingers still against her spine, then spread wide over her shoulders. Before she could fully prepare herself, there was a slight pressure against her spine and he drew her irresistibly toward him.

      Inch by inch. Heartbeat by heartbeat. Closer and closer until…

      Cara knew he meant to kiss her, and her brain whispered a word of warning. But suddenly she didn’t care. She didn’t care that she was opening herself to heartache. She didn’t care that her relationship to this man was doomed from the very beginning. All that mattered was this instant.

      This kiss.

      Ross closed the last