The Texas Cowboy's Quadruplets. Cathy Thacker Gillen

of his hat back and looked her up and down in a way that made her insides flutter all the more. “Just that you’ve been a social worker for Laramie County Department of Children and Family Services for what...ten years now?”

      Electricity sparked between them with all the danger and unpredictability of a downed power line. “Eleven,” Mitzy corrected, doing her best to ignore the impressive amount of testosterone and take-charge attitude he exuded beneath his amiable demeanor.

      And it had been slightly less than that since she had abruptly ended their engagement...

      “And in all that time, my guess is, very few people have been happy to see you coming up their front walk. Now you seem to be feeling the very same disinclination,” he continued with an ornery grin, angling a thumb at the center of his masculine chest, “seeing me at your door.”

      Leave him to point out the almost unbearable irony in that! Mitzy drew a breath, ignoring the considerable physical awareness that never failed to materialize between them. No matter how vigilantly she worked to avoid him.

      She remained in the portal, blocking his entrance. And gave him a long level look that let him know he was not going to get to her...no matter how hard he tried. Even if his square jaw and chiseled features, thick, short sandy-brown hair and incredibly buff physique were permanently imprinted on her brain. “There’s a difference, Chase.” She smiled sweetly, tipping her head up to accommodate his six-foot-three-inch frame. “When people get to know me and realize I’m there to help, they usually become quite warm and friendly.”

      “Well, what do you know!” He surveyed her pleasantly in return. “That’s exactly what I hope will happen between you and me. Now that we’re older and wiser, that is.”

      Twins Bridgett and Bess Monroe, there to assist with her two-month-old quadruplets, appeared behind her. “Hey, Chase.” Bridgett grinned.

      “Here to talk business, I bet?” Bess added, a matchmaker’s gleam in her eye.

      He nodded, ornery as ever. “I am.”

      Mitzy glared. She and Chase had crashed and burned once—spectacularly. There was no way she was doing it again. She folded her arms in front of her militantly. “Well, I’m not.”

      He stepped closer, deliberately invading her personal space, inundating her with his wildly intoxicating masculine scent. “Mitzy, come on. You’ve been ducking my calls and messages for weeks now.”

      So what? She gave him her most unwelcoming glance. “I know it’s hard for a carefree bachelor like you to understand, but I’ve been ‘a little busy’ since giving birth to four boys.”

      He shrugged right back, meeting her word for cavalier word. “Word around town is you’ve had plenty of volunteer help. Plus the high-end nannies your mother sent from Dallas.”

      Mitzy groaned and clapped a hand across her forehead. “Don’t remind me,” she muttered miserably.

      The sympathy on his face matched his low, commiserating tone. “Didn’t work out?”

      “No,” she bit out, “they didn’t.” Mostly because they had been even more ostentatious—and intrusive—than her mom. Telling her how things should be, instead of asking her how she wanted them to be. “Just like this lobbying effort on your part won’t work, either.”

      “I know you’d rather not do business with me, Mitzy,” he said, even more gently. “But at least hear me out.”

      Silence fell between them, as fragile as the still-shattered pieces of her heart. He rocked forward on his toes and lowered his face to hers. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think it were crucial.”

      Mitzy caught her breath at the unexpected reminder of what it had been like to kiss him. Or how much the reckless side of her wanted to do so again.

      Just to see...

      “You could use a break,” Bess pointed out.

      Bridgett, who’d recently found her own happily-ever-after with Chase’s older brother, Cullen, agreed. “And you may as well get this talk over with. If—” she paused heavily “—that’s all it is.”

      That’s all it could be, Mitzy told herself bluntly. Since there was no way she was opening up her heart to this impossibly sexy cowboy CEO again. “Fine.” She ducked inside long enough to grab a fleece to ward off the chill of the November afternoon and hurried back outside. “You’ve got five minutes, Chase, and that is all!”

      * * *

      Five minutes wasn’t much, but it was better than what he’d had in a very long time. Plus, he had promised her late father he’d take care of Mitzy, and her quadruplets, whether she wanted him to or not.

      Chase followed Mitzy to the end of the porch on her Craftsman-style home, taking a moment to survey the recent changes in her. The birth of her four sons had given her five-nine body a new voluptuousness. Her thick medium brown hair was still threaded with honey-gold strands, but she’d cut it since he last saw her in town a month ago, and now it just brushed the tops of her shoulders. Her fair skin was lit with the inner glow she’d had since she was pregnant, her delicate features just as elegant as ever, and her lips soft and full and enticingly bare.

      Which meant she still favored plain balm over lipstick. A fact he had always liked...

      She bypassed the chain-hung swing and settled instead on a wicker chair. Acutely aware of how hard this was going to be for her to hear, he removed his hat, set it aside and took the seat kitty-corner from her.

      Resisting the urge to take her small hand in his, he leaned toward her, hands knotted between his spread knees. Looked her in the eye and got straight to the point. “Word on the street is that Martin Custom Saddle is in big trouble financially.”

      Anger flared between them, even as her long-lashed aquamarine eyes widened in surprise. “I think—as CEO—that I would know if that was the case.”

      She certainly should have, Chase thought reprovingly. “Have you been there recently?”

      Mitzy straightened. “I’ve been in touch with Buck Phillips—the chief operating officer—at least once a week.”

      Chase focused on the pretty pink color flooding her face. Matter-of-factly, he ascertained, “But you haven’t actually been to the facility where the saddles are made.”

      She ignored his question. Stood, walked a short distance away, then swung back to face him. “What’s your point, Chase?”

      He hated to be the bad guy. In this situation, he had no choice. Gently, but firmly, he said, “You can’t simultaneously run MCS—at least not the way your late father would have wished—and be Laramie County’s best social worker. And all the while care for four infants all by your lonesome to boot. No one could.”

      Mitzy stalked toward him. “I’m not trying to do all that. I’m on maternity leave from the Department of Family and Child Services for the next ten months. Maybe longer. I haven’t decided yet.” Ignoring the seat close to him, she perched on the porch railing. “And Buck Phillips is running the business side at the saddle company, same as always.”

      Noting the way the dark denim hugged her slender thighs, and the swell of her breasts beneath the snug-fitting black fleece top, he rose and ambled toward her. “Are you sure about that?”

      “Someone would have told me if there were issues. Financially, or otherwise.”

      Unless they were trying to protect her.

      Her lower lip slid out in a sexy pout. “The employees there are not just personally invested in the success of the company, they’re like family to me and each other.”

      With effort, Chase ignored the urge to kiss her. “It takes more than good intentions to run a company, Mitzy,” he said quietly.

      She tilted her chin at him, a