Tender Loving Care

Chapter Four

At 5:45 the next morning, coffee was perking and so was Zoe. Wearing a favorite striped shirt tucked neatly into jeans, she’d already set the table for four and was dipping bread into egg batter for French toast. Although she suspected that no sane human being would choose to be awake at this ungodly hour, she felt ready for anything.

Her whole problem the night before, she’d told herself, was exhaustion. When she was overtired, a woman would be prone to exaggerate things…like magic, for example. Like the impact of an embrace. Like the empathy and caring that had miraculously seemed to spring up between two relative strangers.

At two o’clock in the morning, she’d still been reading herself the riot act. Rafe already had a woman, and Zoe was smart enough to understand the dangerous relationship of chemistry, convenience and forced proximity. More important than that, she seemed to have totally forgotten the only reason she was here, which was to ease the kids into Rafe’s life. She wasn’t about to forget that again. No more kisses. No more total-dominion games. No more hums.

“Good morning!” She greeted the pair of mop-haired redheads in the door.

Parker was trailing his blanket; Aaron was just behind him. Both had managed to put on overalls and shirts, but they had shared socks. Each wore a blue and a red one.

“What’s for breakfast, Snookums?” Parker asked.

“French toast. Sound good?”

Aaron squinched his nose. “I hate French toast.”

“Ah…” Without the least hesitation, Zoe scooped the French toast off the sizzling griddle and plopped it into the disposal. “Scrambled eggs, then.” She added several more eggs to what had been the beginnings of French-toast batter and congratulated herself on being flexible. Nothing could throw her if she didn’t let it, another principle she seemed to have forgotten yesterday.

“Where’s Uncle Rafe?”

“Still sleeping. We’ll be real quiet until he wakes up, okay?” She shot a quick look at Aaron. His cheeks were a healthy pink and his eyes bright. There was no sign of his tears from the night before.

“What’re we going to do today?”

“Well…” A good question. “Uncle Rafe is going to work. And we’re going to-” she hesitated “-build a snowman and maybe bake cookies?” She poured two small glasses of orange juice and set them carefully on opposite ends of the table. She was learning: Large glasses made large spills, and only a masochist would allow the two boys to sit next to each other.

The twins were halfway through their eggs and Zoe was gulping coffee when she heard a knock on the back door.

“Anybody home?”

Before Zoe could answer, a woman was stomping the snow off her boots in the laundry room and wandering through to the kitchen. “Hi there. You must be Zoe. And these are the twins?”

Zoe swallowed a mouthful of coffee fast. The blonde was tall and perhaps in her early thirties. Beneath a down jacket, a mauve cashmere sweater and navy slacks accented a lush figure. Her hair was a long swath of pure honey, and her eyes were a clear dark brown with lashes a normal woman would have killed for.

Offhand, the only thing Zoe wasn’t prepared for this early in the morning was a meeting with the owner of the black silk panties. In the meantime, the woman was smiling at her, friendly fashion. And in another meantime, the twins seemed to have completely disappeared-or at least slid instantly off their chairs and hidden under the kitchen table at the first sign of a stranger. “Come on out of there,” Zoe hissed at the twins, and smiled at the blonde. “Yes, I’m Zoe Anderson. And you’re…?”

“Sarah Robertson. A friend of Rafe’s. I brought over a sled for the kids.”

Both kids’ heads popped up from under the table, but neither ventured any farther. “That was nice of you,” Zoe said cheerfully, and motioned them up with frantic hand movements behind her back. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

“Sure. Rafe up yet?” Sarah settled easily in a chair at the table as if she belonged there.

“Not quite.”

“I figured you’d all be here by yesterday, but I never had a chance to call. I work with Rafe,” she explained. “And I don’t live all that far from here, so I kept an eye on the place while he was gone. He didn’t tell me all the details, but I have a little idea what you two have had to take on.” She shook her head sympathetically. “You could have knocked me over with a feather when he called from Detroit and said he was coming back with…” She cast a tactful eye toward the twins.

“Yes.” Zoe set a mug in front of her.

“If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know. I come from a family of nine, so I’ve been around kids all my life.” She bent down to peek under the table. “Hi, boys,” she said casually, and then straightened, winking at Zoe. “I brought them something else. There are two packages wrapped in yellow sitting on the washing machine. For when they get around to deciding I’m not such a terrifying stranger.”

The twins decided that in three seconds flat. While with blissful grins they unwrapped their shiny new action figures Zoe analyzed everything about Rafe’s lady that she could conceivably analyze in the space of a few minutes.

Sarah wasn’t exactly a beauty, but her smile was darn near breathtaking, and her voice had vibrations that Zoe figured a man would pant for. That Rafe would pant for. She radiated an easy confidence; Zoe figured Rafe would like that, too.

Zoe searched harder for a fault, and found only maturity, a subtle sense of humor and a warmth that was completely natural. On top of that, Sarah obviously liked kids-and the kids were warming up to her as though they’d just discovered candy.

She was a little top-heavy, but altogether, if Zoe had had nothing to do all day but pick out a woman who might suit Rafe, Sarah was it. Intellectually, she was pleased that he showed such good taste in women. And Zoe was well aware that building a relationship between Sarah and Rafe could solve the problem of the twins in very short order.

But emotionally, the woman grated on her nerves.

“I know this was early for a visit, but I figured Rafe would be heading to work around eight. If I picked him up, I thought that might leave you the Jeep if you needed it. You must be feeling pretty stranded out here in the middle of nowhere.”

“Actually, I absolutely love it here. Would you like some breakfast?” Zoe asked politely. Sarah was a marvel of consideration. She also certainly knew all kinds of things about Rafe’s private life, and was tactfully making sure Zoe understood she didn’t care that another woman was living in Rafe’s house.

Hell’s bells, Zoe thought irritably. I’m not exactly pock-faced. And if those were my black panties, lady, you can bet your boots I’d have something to say about another woman roaming around in his life, and never mind all the extenuating circumstances.

“Well, good morning, sleepyhead!” Sarah said teasingly. Her instant smile could have lit up a sky, and all because a certain man was standing in the doorway.

Zoe lanced a searing look at that smile before her head whipped toward Rafe.

“I heard voices in here, but I thought it was just Zoe and the kids.” Rafe’s gaze slid from Sarah to Zoe and stayed there. Last night, she’d been as warm and responsive as any woman he’d ever met. This morning, her body was rigid with tension, she was moving at the speed of light around the kitchen and her smile could have frozen the Amazon River.

He swung the boys up for a good-morning hug and listened to Sarah’s easy chatter, never taking his eyes off Zoe. The lady more than fascinated him. Life had handed her such a blow, and maybe he’d initially been affected by a blend of chemistry and compassion. Unfortunately, hour by hour, his feelings were growing into more than that.

Caring about her could only complicate their predicament. He knew that, but advising himself to keep things merely friendly was about as effective as cautioning iron filings not to gather around a magnet. He wanted to know about that man in her past; he wanted to know how on earth she’d managed to delude herself into believing she was selfish. He wanted to hold her. Touch, claim, comfort, understand.

From the crisp way she slammed his coffee mug on the counter, he figured she’d be happier if he took off for the North Pole.

“…so I thought you’d probably leave the Jeep here and I’d just drive you in. No problem if that doesn’t suit you, Rafe, I just thought I’d offer…”

Rafe swung his gaze back to Sarah. “Fine, I appreciate it,” he agreed thoughtfully.

Both boys got a goodbye hug. Zoe got a list of phone numbers, the keys to the Jeep, and instructions on how to get to town. Sarah considerately added her work phone number in case Zoe couldn’t reach Rafe in an emergency, adding that her family lived in the area and would be glad to help out if Zoe got in a pinch. He still hadn’t gotten her to look at him.

Fifteen minutes later, Rafe and Sarah headed for her truck. He climbed into the driver’s seat, and Sarah handed him the keys. She said something to him; he didn’t hear. His gaze was fixedon Zoe’s face at the kitchen window.

“Just a minute,” he murmured to Sarah, and stalked back toward the house with his hands jammed in his pockets.

She didn’t even look up when he walked in. Her head was lowered in total concentration on the soapsuds in the sink.

“Are you the kind of woman to jump to conclusions, Zoe?” he asked casually.

She shot him her best bewildered frown. “I can’t imagine what you’re talking about.”

“No? Well, we’ll discuss it later.”

“There’s absolutely nothing to discuss,” she started to say, but the back door had already closed with a snap.

Busily mixing cookie batter, Zoe glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. Three minutes past three. Exactly three minutes had passed since the last time she’d looked. Her back, neck, knees, hands and nerves felt as if she’d been through a war. This had to be the longest day she could ever remember.

Every task had taken ages to accomplish. She’d spent an hour making a snowman, and approximately five hours getting the kids in and out of their snowsuits. At home, she could have tossed in a wash and made a few beds in minutes; those simple projects had stretched to an hour because of little boy-type interruptions. Four games of Go Fish had lasted forever. She’d pushed Magneto around in a mock battle with Wolverine on the living room rug for at least a lifetime, but of course all of that was an exaggeration. She knew darn well she’d never been out of the kitchen for more than four minutes between drinks, spills, lunches, cocoa and cookie baking.

She glanced at the clock again. Four minutes past three. Rafe wouldn’t be home for another two hours. She certainly didn’t want him home; she wanted him busy at work building a serious relationship with Sarah, but she felt so…stranded.

Was it normal for two four-year-old boys to try to kill each other every fifteen minutes? What was the appropriate thing to say when one discovered them practicing their aim from three feet away from the toilet? Had Janet really let them eat their lunch upside down? How much cookie batter could she remember her mother letting her lick without risking her getting sick?

She’d die if the kids got sick.

“How’s that look, Zoe?”

She glanced at the cookie sheet. Some of the blobs of batter would have filled a teaspoon; others would have filled half a cup. “Wonderful,” she said.

“What are we going to do after this, Snookums?”

Die. Nap. “I could read you a story,” she suggested.

Reading a story, she discovered, was a ritual. Thumbs went in mouths; each boy glued himself to one side of her; and since she had to put her arms around both of them, the boys took turns holding the book. Interruptions like oven buzzers for burned cookies were followed by a vigorous resettling in the same spot on the couch. They were so quiet that she vaguely worried that they’d both gone into a catatonic state, but that posed yet another question to ask Rafe. Where was the nearest children’s bookstore?

At four forty-five, the kids seemed reasonably settled in front of the television, and Zoe slipped into the bathroom to wash her face. Her appearance in the mirror appalled her. She not only felt as if she’d been through a war, she looked it. Hastily, she washed, tucked, brushed and was just reaching for her mascara wand and lipstick when both boys showed up at the door.

“Whatcha doing, Snookums?” Parker demanded.

“I thought you liked that cartoon…”

“The screen’s all wavy. What’s that?”

“Mascara.” Zoe carefully removed a lipstick tube from Aaron’s hand.

“What’s it for?”

Alarmed, she saw Aaron was ready to cry. “To make your eyes look bigger,” she said distractedly to Parker.

“What’s wrong with your eyes the way they are?”

“Why can’t I put some on?” Aaron demanded. “Mommy let me put hers on.”

“Look, you can spray perfume on me, okay?” Zoe said desperately to Aaron.

“What’s perfume have to do with eyes?” Parker looked irritated. “Look, numbskull, I’m trying to talk to Snookums.”

“Oh, shut up, Parker. What’s this?” Aaron had discovered her cosmetics bag, and he wasn’t content until he’d seen for himself exactly what every item was.

As a result, Zoe was made up for a formal ball when Rafe walked in the door, and all three of them were wearing perfume and sporting powdered noses.

His nostrils flared slightly when both boys ran to him with a whoop of a hello. Zoe flushed clear to her toes and headed for the kitchen. Cookie pans sat on the counter; she’d forgotten them. She’d meant to have everything cleaned up by the time Rafe arrived. She’d also meant to have dinner started.

Rafe followed her in, toting the twins. Hurriedly rinsing dishes and wiping off the counters, Zoe heard an embarrassing stream of conversation about her eyes, which needed black stuff, her lopsided snowman and her inability to win at Go Fish.

On top of that, her heart started thumping the minute he walked in the door and hadn’t stopped since. She was only glad to see him because of the boys, of course. Except that when those blue eyes pounced on her, she was inclined to completely forget the boys and Sarah and remember nothing but the night before…how intimately he’d held her, how strong and warm his embrace had been, how comfortable and natural it had felt to turn to him.

“Nope, we’re not having macaroni and cheese again,” Rafe told Parker. “We’re taking Zoe out to dinner.”

No wonder her knees went weak. Not that Zoe wanted to be put to the test, but there was a good chance she’d have sold her soul to the devil rather than wash any more dishes. “You think we can manage them? I mean, out in public?” She felt she had to voice a token objection.

“Of course we can. You boys go wash your faces.” Zoe headed for the door with the troops, but Rafe grabbed her hand. “Not you,” he said gravely. “You look fine. In fact, you look incredibly good.”

The compliment startled her, but not for long. “You don’t understand. No rational person would leave them alone in a bathroom together.”

“Nonsense.” His thumb dawdled on her wrist, tracing the delicate veins, quickening her pulse. She glanced down to see her palm lying in his, limply accepting a touch that was dangerously close to a caress, inviting more. Had a few hours with a couple of small kids really made her feel that desperate for contact? Hand, would you move? Please? “How was work?” She had to find something to say.

“I was surrounded by magnetometers and scintillation counters. Now how did you survive today?”

“Fine.”

“No, you didn’t. How bad was it?” When she opened her mouth to deny any problem, he shook his head. “Look, there’s no reason to lie, not with me. I already know how you feel about kids, but it isn’t just that. You think I can’t appreciate how hard your day has been? I don’t know any more about parenting than you do, and I think I made it pretty clear that there’s no way in hell kids could fit in my lifestyle. Kiddo, if you can complain to anyone, it’s me.”

“Rafe, I don’t think it would be as impossible as you think to have them fit into your life-”

“The only reason it’s working at all is because you’re here,” he said firmly. He knew that if she thought for a minute he could cope with the boys alone, she’d run away. With deliberate emphasis, he continued, “If I’d wanted kids, Zoe, I would have taken on the responsibility long before this.”

That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. She’d hoped so much that his feelings were at least starting to change. “You know, they behave like angels for you.”

“Yeah. Because I’m six feet three. Only one of these days, the little devils are going to discover that I’m scared witless of them.”

He made her smile. In fact, he made her smile all through dinner. He never even blinked when a French fry went flying through the air or when Parker let out a burp that sent both boys into fits of giggles. He answered what seemed like four thousand questions beginning with the word why, wiped up a spill and escorted each little boy to the men’s room at least nine hundred times.

With Zoe, he barely exchanged five words. Who could talk? Zoe hadn’t been in a family restaurant in a long time. Mothers were wolfing down their food in the vague hope they’d finish before the kids got antsy. Fathers were radiating patience. The route to the bathrooms needed a traffic light. The noise level rivaled that of a baseball stadium on opening day.

“You’ve been here before?” she questioned Rafe.

He shook his head with a wry grin. “Never. But I figured it had to be reasonably safe to come here from their ads in the paper.”

The place was safe, the man less so. Rafe kept drawing her eyes to him…for his quietness and patience, the way he took charge, the way his mouth twisted in a smile. He repeatedly claimed he didn’t want the responsibility of children, yet nothing threw him where the kids were concerned.

Where she was concerned seemed to be the problem. He had a way of looking at her that made her feel drenched in softness, as though she was special to him, as though in the middle of chaos they were surrounded by an intimate privacy that just had to do with two people.

It was dark when they drove home, and few lights marked the road once they left the small Montana town of Logansville. Under the cover of darkness, Zoe stole pensive glances at Rafe’s shadowed profile. He wasn’t an easy man to understand, and she had to remind herself to be careful. She was alone, far away from her life and job, tossed into an emotional whirlpool because of the children. It would be far too easy to turn to Rafe out of need, but involvement would impossibly complicate both their lives, and perhaps prove detrimental to the twins.

When they arrived home, the kids suggested a bargain: They would promise total peace and quiet if they were allowed to watch television for a half hour. Rafe agreed, and steered Zoe into the kitchen, where he put water on for coffee-decaf and instant at that hour.

“They’ll never let us drink an entire cup in peace,” Zoe warned him wryly.

Rafe took the tinfoil off the huge pan of chocolate-chip cookies and then offered the tray to her.

“They’re all for you,” she said politely.

“Thanks.”

“If they help me with any more cooking projects, we may all starve.”

“I can see that.” He leaned back against the counter and nibbled on one. “They’re not that bad.”

“What’d you get-a tiny burned one or one of those huge ones that still look like unbaked batter?” The kettle was boiling. Zoe lifted it off the burner, turned off the heat and reached for cups.

Rafe figured that was enough casual chatter. Maybe she’d forgotten that she’d treated him like yesterday’s newspaper that morning, but he hadn’t. “Those were Sarah’s black panties you found in the kitchen…but I think you already guessed that, didn’t you?”

The damn kettle spat a drop of boiling water on her finger. She shook her hand and then started pouring. “Forget it, Rafe.”

He wasn’t about to let it go. “I’ve known her for two years, ever since I moved here. I got to know her because I work with her. Her husband left her about a year ago.”

“Which is none of my business,” Zoe said firmly.

Rafe was blunt and his tone quiet. “Our relationship is simply a friendship-but, yes, I’ve slept with her several times. She was lonely as hell, and her ex-husband was a bastard. If you want it clear as glass, she’d occasionally come over here when she wanted a man.” Honesty vibrated in his voice. “I don’t want you to think badly of her, Zoe. She’s a good lady.”

“A wonderful lady,” Zoe agreed instantly.

“But not for me. It was never any more than a casual relationship. She knew that, and so did I. There was a time when we could fill a few needs for each other, and that’s all it amounted to.” He added, “I talked to her this morning.”

What he talked to her about Zoe didn’t want to know. She also didn’t want the mug of coffee in her hands, or to be alone in a softly lit kitchen with him. She set the mug down. The whole problem with being close to Rafe…was being close to Rafe.

She said nothing for a moment, because she couldn’t think of a thing to say, and then a crash interrupted that silence-a glass-splintering, explosion-type crash. The lights went out.

She collided with Rafe on the rush for the door.