his hands, his expression frozen with fear. Even so, Laura saw he was gentle. His big hand cradled the back of Rebecca’s head, his arm held her firmly against his chest.
Not that that meant he’d be a good daddy for the long haul.
“Now, hold her carefully,” she warned him again. She hurried to the other side of the SUV, quickly extricating Amanda from her car seat. The infant stretched and yawned, then let out a tiny cry of complaint. “Sorry I had to wake you, Mandy. You’re fine, really you are.” She grabbed the oversize diaper bag and rejoined Eric, who hadn’t budged. “We were going inside?”
“Right.” He eyed Laura, then looked down at Rebecca. “I was wrong before. She’s not Tinkerbell, she’s Stinkerbell. And I think she’s leaking.”
“Oh, dear.” She stifled a smile at his horrified look. “Well, let’s get her inside, and I’ll change her diaper. That probably means Mandy is about to let loose, too.”
Eric didn’t look at all pleased with the prospect. His easy walk that she’d noted earlier turned to a tiptoe race up the porch steps. Despite that, he took the time to hold the door open for her.
An officer of the law and a gentleman—shades of the old west.
For a bachelor’s place, the living room looked neat, and the heavy leather couch and recliner gave the room a masculine flavor. In lieu of any feminine touches, there was an overflowing bookcase stuffed with mystery, adventure and science fiction titles, a big-screen TV and a stereo sound system that would rival an outdoor amphitheater. It looked like a case of a boy with plenty of expensive toys.
Noting the row of huge silver rodeo trophies on the mantel above the natural rock fireplace, Laura suspected Eric’s music of choice would be country-western. She wondered how he was at two-stepping. Not that she was an expert. Just the opposite. But the dance had always looked like fun.
Holding Amanda in one arm, she pulled a receiving blanket from the diaper bag with her free hand and spread it on the center cushion of the man-size couch. She put Amanda down and reached for Rebecca.
Eric passed her the baby, thinking how odd the situation felt. A woman in his house and two tiny babies so small he could probably cradle one in each hand like a football if he wasn’t so darn scared he’d drop one.
No question, he was going to need a crash course in infant care if they had any chance of surviving under his roof after he was on his own with them.
A father ought to know something about taking care of his kids.
If indeed he was a relation at all. He had the feeling he should be waiting for another shoe to drop, one that resembled a complicated con job intended to raid his bank account.
How could anyone know how much he’d always wanted a family of his own?
He watched Laura’s swift, confident movements as she changed the babies’ diapers. Her head was bent over them, allowing her hair to slide forward, hiding her face behind a ginger-blond screen. Her hairdo was practical, only long enough to reach the angle of her jaw, one of those styles that brushed into place with a few strokes or little more than a shake of her head. But it seemed to shine in the reflected light of the room as though someone had turned a golden spotlight on her.
Her clothes were practical, too. A businesslike navy jacket over a light yellow blouse and navy slacks. Sensible shoes. A long way from a femme fatale or what he’d imagine a scam artist would wear.
She dressed as primly as every social worker he’d ever known as a kid, but something was different about her. When she held one of the twins, murmuring sweet, loving sounds, her smile glowed from the inside out. She had some kind of a special connection to these babies. Eric wasn’t sure what.
Granted, he wasn’t a big-city cop. But he’d had a fair amount of police training and pretty good instincts. Despite her very attractive packaging, this woman was hiding something.
“Except for knowing my birth name, what other proof do you have that these babies are any relation to me at all?”
Chapter Two
Laura’s head snapped up, her eyebrows arched in surprise at his question. “Trust me, Sheriff Oakes, there is no reason in the world why I would lie to you about that.”
“But that doesn’t mean what you’re saying is true. How well did you know the woman who said she was my sister?”
“Half sister. You and she had the same mother. I’ve known Amy since she was ten years old.”
“That long?” The more a witness talked, the more likely they were to get their story confused, if they were lying. Eric wanted this woman talking. He wanted the truth.
Rebecca started to fuss, and Laura picked her up, holding her against her shoulder, patting her back. “My mother took Amy in as a foster child when I was about twenty and going to college. I was still living at home, so I was around a lot.”
Something dark and painful rose in Eric’s chest. “Where was her mother?” His mother, if what she was saying was true.
“Amy was being both abused and neglected. Child Welfare removed her from her home and placed her with my mother for her own safety. It was the best thing that could have ever happened to Amy.”
God, remembering what had happened to him as a kid, Eric could believe that. “Where is her mother now?”
Laura softened her voice slightly. “She died about five years ago. I’m sorry.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw. “I see. You realize I can check your story, don’t you?”
She made an impatient sound and plucked a baby bottle from the diaper bag. “Be my guest. The detective’s business card is in the truck. And my mother would be happy to give you the name of Amy’s former case worker.”
Either she was telling the truth, as she knew it, or she was a damn good actress. But the whole story could still be a scam.
Eric sat down on the arm of the couch and watched while Laura slipped the bottle into Rebecca’s hungry mouth. She did it with such ease, he guessed she’d done it a thousand times before. Probably. He also noted she wasn’t wearing a ring, which likely meant she wasn’t currently married.
“What about the twins’ father? You know where he is?”
“She never gave me his name. I’m not sure if I knew who he was that I’d go looking for him. She’d gone off with him about a year ago. From what she did tell me, he was abusing her. After she got pregnant, she ran away.”
“Smart woman. But if he knew about her pregnancy, he could still show up and claim his parental rights.” Eric couldn’t think of anything worse than losing his own children. But he couldn’t imagine abusing a woman, either.
“I think it’s unlikely he’ll show up, whoever he is.”
“If Amy knew I existed, I wished she’d tried to find me sooner. I might have been able to help.” With a restraining order…or something a little more personal and persuasive.
“She didn’t know about
