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Forty-five minutes later, she walked through the door of her apartment carrying two bags full of baby supplies. She’d bought one single item for herself—a frozen chicken entrée that she could heat later, after the babies had gone to sleep for the night. “Mom, I’m back!” she called out.
Faye Briggs stepped through the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands on a tea towel. “Hello, dear. How did it go?” she asked, taking a bag and carrying it to the table.
Abby followed her, putting the other bag down before giving her mother a hug and a peck on the cheek. “I’ll tell you in a minute. Where are they?”
“On your bedroom floor, asleep.”
Abby scurried through the apartment, then slowed to peer quietly around the door to her bedroom. Her queen-size mattress covered most of the floor space. Pillows and blankets were stacked alongside every edge, creating a giant, makeshift crib in the middle of the room.
Drawn by some maternal force she’d had no idea she had until two weeks ago, she walked into the room and knelt beside the mattress, looking down at the twins. Rosie’s fist was pulled next to her plump cheek, and ringlets haloed her head—just like Paige’s had.
Wyatt was beside his sister, his mouth sucking gently in his sleep. His tiny sock had slipped halfway off his foot, so Abby pulled it off and tucked his blanket over his legs.
Although both babies were sleeping soundly, their faces were turned toward one another, as if each one had fallen asleep in the comfort of the other’s presence.
Tears blurred her vision. Rosie and Wyatt had already lost both parents. They shouldn’t lose one another, too. And she couldn’t lose either one.
She had to find a way to keep them both.
When a shadow fell across the bed, Abby realized her mother was standing beside her. “How long have they been asleep?” she asked, swiping a knuckle under her eyes.
“Just a few minutes.”
Abby tugged Rosie’s blanket over her shoulder, looking down at the babies for one more minute before she got to her feet. Then she and her mother tiptoed out, and Abby closed the door quietly behind them.
They returned to the kitchen and began to put groceries away. “How did it go?” they both asked, and laughed together, too.
“Tell me about your morning first,” Abby said as she put a can of formula into the pantry. “Did they eat breakfast?”
“Rosie drank half her bottle and ate a little rice cereal. Wyatt drank more, but didn’t want the food. They took a sink bath, and we went for a walk. They were fine.”
“Good.” Abby smiled. Her mother had been great to help out. Losing your sister was terrible, but burying your youngest child had to be heartbreaking. Having the babies around to keep them busy had been a blessing to them both.
“Tell me about the meeting,” her mother prompted again.
“It wasn’t good news,” Abby said. “Paige and Brian made up a will a few months ago, naming me as Rosie’s guardian. But someone else has been asked to take Wyatt.”
“Oh, no!” Faye gasped. “Who?”
“I don’t know. If it’s not you, it must be someone from Brian’s side. His mom or brother, I suppose.” Abby squinted at her mother. “It’s not you and Dad, right?”
“No, it’s not. We love the babies, but you’re young and able…and you want them so much. We got a notice about the hearing, but that was all.”
“That leaves Brian’s mom and brother,” Abby said.
“Would his mom want custody?” Faye asked as she handed Abby a couple of packs of diapers.
Abby stacked them on the countertop and turned to look at her mother again. “Based on what Paige told me, probably not. Brian’s mom has her hands full raising a couple of kids from her second marriage. She’s only seen Rosie and Wyatt once, just after they were born.”
“What about Jack?”
Abby shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “He’s single, and seems to live for work and women. Why would he want custody?”
Faye folded the two grocery sacks and handed them to Abby before picking up her car keys. “Well then,” she said, “maybe we’ll get good news tomorrow in court.”
Maybe.
But Abby didn’t want to take any chances. Whoever had been asked to take custody of Wyatt must know by now. She was betting Jack at least knew who it was, since he’d been in the lawyer’s office this morning. In fact, she had a feeling he was her culprit.
Why couldn’t she do a little detective work?
She managed to marshal enough brainpower to see her mother to the door, but her thoughts were already rushing ahead, developing a plan. Jack was a businessman; he must carry a cellphone. She was fairly certain she’d find his number in the address book she’d found at the farmhouse.
She was going to play on her hunch.
SITTING ALONE at a linen-topped table, Abby glanced at the door every time a shape passed by the other side of the window. He was either very late or not coming at all.
The waitress had bustled by three times already, filling Abby’s water glass and asking if she wanted to go ahead and order. The pretty redhead must think she was a pathetic spinster who was being stood up for a date.
Abby didn’t care. Her feet were planted too solidly on this good green earth to worry about what some stranger thought of her.
Practical and outspoken, Abby had learned early in life to meet challenges head-on. Not much intimidated her. But she couldn’t afford to lose another loved one. Paige and Brian had been enough.
The only thing Abby feared right now was losing one of the twins, and she’d do almost anything to keep them together, and in her life. If Jack was, in fact, the chosen guardian for Wyatt, she was prepared to argue, lie or even grovel if it would persuade him to relinquish custody.
Nearly an hour after their prescribed meeting time, a single shadow loomed, tall and somehow threatening. Abby felt a tingle of awareness surge through her, knowing without looking closer that Jack had arrived. He removed his ball cap as he stepped through the door, and ran a hand through his hair as he spoke to the hostess. Then he turned and spotted Abby.
She smiled briefly, lifting a hand in greeting. He strode quickly to the table, beginning to make excuses before he was even halfway there. “Abby, I got caught up in a business call that took awhile to wrap up. I’m glad you waited.”
“It’s okay,” she said, and then wondered why she felt compelled to appease his feelings at the expense of her own. Surely he could see that this meeting was just as crucial as a business call that he could have dealt with later.
He sat down across from her and put his hat on an empty chair seat. Right away, he began to study the menu.
Abby sipped from her water glass and watched him. Though he wasn’t as ghostlike as he’d been this morning, his eyes sported dark circles uncommon to a man as vital as Jack. Brian’s death must have been torture for him.
“Have you ordered?” he asked, without looking up from the menu.
“Nope—wasn’t sure you were coming,” she said, perturbed with herself for feeling sympathetic toward the man she intended to manipulate over dinner.
He looked up quickly after hearing the note of complaint in her voice. “Since I’m late, I’ll treat.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“I insist,” he said with a wink and a grin. “What’s good here?” And with a simple change of expression, he became the man she knew. The one she’d met at the wedding.
Charming. Devil-may-care. Lethally sexy.
“Depends on what you want,” she answered tersely.
He searched her eyes. “Are you mad at me for something?”
“Why would I be mad?” she asked, even more agitated with herself for being attracted to him, after all this time.
“I don’t know, you just seem…perturbed.”
She slapped the palm of her hand on the tabletop with a satisfying thump. “Let’s not start things off by arguing.”
“I’m not arguing.”
She knew that must be the voice he used with his clients when their feathers were ruffled, and she refused to be mollified. “But you’re telling me I’m mad, and I’m not—”
She slammed her jaw shut when she noticed the hand reaching between them to pour water into Jack’s glass. The waitress was leaning over them, so intent on her chore she seemed unaware that she’d interrupted a dispute.
After topping off Abby’s water, she started to scuttle away, only glancing up when Jack thanked her for the water. That one peek caused a sudden shift in her demeanor. Her brisk pace slowed to a hip-swinging saunter as she headed back toward the kitchen.
Jack frowned into his menu again, seemingly unaware of the flirtation. But Abby had noticed, and she wasn’t surprised. There was something about the man that made women fawn all over him.
Her sister had always said he was the Romeo type, but Abby knew better. He might very well be a good-time lover to many, but he was a true love to no one. Jack Kimball was your everyday, garden variety Casanova.
Since she’d decided on her menu choices long ago, she took another opportunity to scrutinize him. There was nothing spectacular about his looks—she’d seen men more handsome who didn’t hold her attention for longer than the bat of an eyelash. But Jack had something unique.
He was lean and wiry, and his sun-kissed brown hair waved wildly around his head. His style of dress tended toward the casual. Even at the wedding he’d loosened his tie before the last “I Do.” He didn’t work too hard on his appearance.
But his sky-blue eyes were nice, and probably responsible for half his appeal.
But it wasn’t their hue she noticed, it was their expression. Thick lashes framed eyes that drank you in as if he’d never get his fill of your beauty.
If you were the one lucky enough to have caught his attention, that is. For a brief moment in time.
The waitress returned with her pad and pencil. “I see your date arrived,” she said, smiling at Abby now. “No wonder you waited so long.”
Abby looked back across the table just in time to catch Jack’s wink at the young girl. Abby snorted, and said, “He’s not my date.”
“Really?” The girl smiled brightly at Jack. “Are you ready to order?”
Abby refused to be ignored. She was the lady; she would order first. “I’ll have the roast chicken salad,” she said, breaking into their mutual rapport. “Vinegar and oil on the side, and a glass of your house white wine.”
The waitress wrote frantically. When she was finished, she grinned at Jack again.
He looked across at Abby with a thoughtful frown, then back down at the menu. After a few seconds of silence, it became obvious that he wasn’t ready to order.
Abby expected the waitress to hurry off to the kitchen to accomplish something while her prized patron made a decision, but she did no such thing. She seemed perfectly willing to just stand there, staring at Jack.
Finally, he rubbed his chin and said, “I’ll have the steak, medium rare. Loaded potato. Bring a salad with the meal, ranch dressing on that… Oh—and bring me a bottle of your best stout beer.”
“Will do. Thank you, sir,” said the girl, who was probably still in her teens. He had absolutely no business flirting with her, but he flashed her a smile when she took their menus, and kept watching as she sidled away.
After the waitress was out of earshot, Abby lifted world-weary eyes to Jack’s. “Doesn’t take you long to do that.”
“To do what, Abby?”
“To make a killing with the ladies,” she said, shaking her head. “Or do a snow job.”
“I was only being polite.”
“Uh-huh,” she muttered, picking up her water glass for the umpteenth time.
Jack sighed audibly, commanding her attention again. “Is that why you asked me to dinner? To insult me?”
She echoed his sigh as she set her glass back down. “I wanted to ask you about the hearing tomorrow.”
“What about it?”
Abby crossed her fingers in her lap. “Have you been asked to take custody of Wyatt?”
Jack picked up his own water glass and took a sip, peering at her over its frosty rim. “Are we supposed to be discussing that?”
“Come on, Jack,” she said. “It has to be you or your mother. Paige always told me your mom was busy with her second family. So that leaves you. It has to be you.”
“What if it is?”
“Stop it!”
“Stop what, Abby Rose?”
“Asking questions,” she said. “Answer my questions with answers.” Fidgeting with the lapel of her jacket, she forced herself to take a calming breath. She forced herself to wait. Again.
Jack set his glass down, contemplating it soberly. When he looked up again, the shadows were back in his eyes. “Yes, Brian named me in the will.”
Abby stretched her hand toward him, resting it on the tabletop. “But you’re not going to do it, are you?”
He covered her hand with his own, evoking a sudden heat that caused a spasm in the core of her body. She felt suddenly needy and aroused.
She slid her hand away, placing it in her lap. But it still tingled from his touch, and making a fist didn’t help.
Uncomfortable with her body’s betrayal, she forced her mind to return to the question at hand. She was rather shocked that she could think of sex when something as essential as a baby’s future was in question.
Finally, he said, “To be honest, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
Abby was grateful for his candor. Truly, she was. But she needed absolute assurances. “I want custody of both twins. They need to be together,” she announced.
His troubled stare rested on some spot beyond her shoulder. “I don’t want to separate them any more than you do,” he finally said. “But I can’t just sign them out of my life. Wyatt’s my godson.”
“Wyatt is five months old,” Abby said. “He’d be better off with me.”
“He’s five and a half months old, and he’d be better off if his parents hadn’t just died.”
She flinched at his bluntness, but dived right into the fray. “I’m the next best thing, and I want him.”
