Triple Trouble / A Real Live Cowboy. Judy Duarte

you have custody of their babies?” Darr queried,

      “Yeah.”

      “Why?”

      “Because Stan’s will named me guardian if Amy’s sister Lana couldn’t take them.” Nick took a drink of coffee, hoping to erase the lump of emotion in his throat. He still hadn’t come to terms with the abruptness with which Stan and Amy had disappeared from the world. “So they’re with me until the attorney locates Lana.”

      “Where is she?”

      “No one knows.” Nick stared broodingly at his plate, holding a sandwich and chips. “She and her husband work in Africa and Amy seems to have lost track of them a few months ago.”

      “Damn.” Darr eyed him. “Who’s taking care of the kids while you work?”

      “I hired a nanny,” Nick replied. “And Melissa’s working longer hours while I’m at the Foundation during the day.”

      Darr stared at him. Nick took a bite of his sandwich.

      “And?” Darr prompted when Nick didn’t elaborate.

      “And what?”

      “Don’t give me that. You’re stalling. What else aren’t you telling me?”

      “The nanny I hired works full-time. Her name is Charlene. She’s a redhead and she’s great with the triplets.”

      Darr lowered his coffee mug to the table without taking his gaze from Nick’s face. “She’s a babe, isn’t she.”

      It wasn’t a question. Darr knew him too well to be fooled.

      “Yeah. She is.” Nick shoved another bite of sandwich into his mouth.

      “Full-time,” Darr said consideringly. “What hours does she work?”

      “She’s pretty much on call twenty-four hours a day.”

      “So…he’s living at your house?”

      “Yeah.”

      “Sleeping down the hall from you?”

      Nick nodded, saw the glint appear in Darr’s eyes and bristled. “Yes, down the hall. She has her own bedroom. What the hell did you think, that she was sharing mine?”

      Darr shrugged. “It did cross my mind. Face it, Nick, you’ve never been slow with the ladies. You said she’s pretty—and she’s living in your house…” He spread his hands. “Sounds like a no-brainer to me.”

      “Well, it’s not,” Nick snarled, restraining an urge to wrap his hands around his brother’s neck and choke that grin off his face. “She works for me. Have you heard of sexual harassment? She’s off-limits.”

      “Too bad.” Darr lifted his coffee mug and drank. “So,” he said, setting the mug down and picking up his sandwich, “just how good-looking is Charlene?”

      Too beautiful. Nick bit back the words and shrugged. “Beautiful.”

      “On a scale of one to ten?”

      “She’s a fifteen.”

      Darr’s eyes widened. “Damn.”

      “And she’s too young,” Nick continued.

      “How young?”

      “She’s twenty-five.”

      “Thank God.” Darr pretended to wipe sweat off his brow in relief. “I thought you were going to tell me she’s underage and jailbait.”

      “Might as well be,” Nick growled. “She’s twelve years younger than me. That’s too damned young.”

      Darr pursed his lips. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight. You’re cranky because you’ve got a nanny you can’t make a move on because you’re her boss and she’s younger than you.”

      “Yeah, pretty much,” Nick conceded.

      Darr grinned. “Maybe you should fire her. Then you can date her.”

      “I can’t fire her—and I don’t want to,” Nick ground out. “She’s good at her job. If she wasn’t helping me take care of the girls, I’d be screwed.”

      “So hire someone else—and then fire her.”

      “Yeah, like she’s likely to go out with me after I’ve fired her.” Nick rubbed his eyes. They felt as if there was a pound of sand in each of them. If he didn’t get some sleep soon, he’d need more than the saline eyedrops he’d been using in a vain attempt to solve the problem. “There’s no solution that’s workable. Believe me, I’ve considered all the angles.”

      “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

      “Stop being so damned cheerful,” Nick growled.

      “Aren’t you the one who told me there’s always another girl just around the corner? Wait a week and there’ll be another corner, another girl. If things don’t work out with the redhead, why do you care?”

       Because I’ve never met anyone quite like her.

      Nick didn’t want to tell Darr that Charlene was unique. He was having a hard enough time accepting that he’d met a woman who broke all the rules he’d spent thirty-seven years setting.

      “Maybe you’re right,” he said with a slight shrug, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. “Have you heard anything new about the note Patrick got at the New Year’s Eve party? Or about the ones Dad and Cindy received?”

      “No.” Darr didn’t appear thrown by Nick’s abrupt change of subject. “That’s one of the reasons I wanted to talk to Dad and J.R.—to ask if they’ve learned anything more.”

      The Fortune family had gone through a series of mysterious events over the last few months, starting with the cryptic note left in Patrick Fortune’s jacket pocket during a New Year’s Eve party. The strange message—“One of the Fortunes is not who you think”—baffled the family, even more so when they learned the same message had been left anonymously with Cindy Fortune and William, Nick and Darr’s father.

      Patrick had called a family conference at Lily Fortune’s home on the Double Crown Ranch in February, on the very day Red Rock had been hit with a freak snowstorm.

      Darr hadn’t been present at the gathering, since he’d been snowed-in with Bethany in her little house. But Nick had brought him up to speed on everything that happened, including the family’s assumption the notes were the precursor to a blackmail demand. So far, however, no such demand had been made. But two subsequent fires—one that burned down the local Red Restaurant, and a second that destroyed a barn at the Double Crown—were suspicious. And potentially connected to the mysterious and vaguely threatening notes.

      “Let me know if you reach Dad and J.R.,” Nick said. “Meanwhile, I had a message from Ross Fortune when I got back to the office today. We set up a meeting to discuss the notes and fires. Has he contacted you?” Nick and Darr’s cousin was a private investigator with an agency in San Antonio. His mother, Cindy, had convinced the family they should hire him to check into the cryptic threats.

      “Not yet,” Darr said, “but I heard he’s in town. The Chief said he called and asked for copies of the department’s report on the fire at Red.” Darr pushed his empty plate aside and leaned his elbows on the tabletop, his voice lowering. “This isn’t for public knowledge, but I’m sure my boss agrees with us—he has serious reservations as to whether the fire was accidental.”

      “What about the barn that burned at the Double Crown?”

      “He didn’t want to talk about that one—I suspect he believes I’m too close to the subject, since it happened on Lily’s ranch.”

      “Do you have a gut feeling as to