slipped out of the office with the same animal grace that characterized all his movements. His voice drifted back through the doorway as he spoke quietly with the dour, middle-aged woman he’d introduced as his secretary. Even though Lizzie couldn’t make out the words, she tilted her head, simply enjoying the sound. No matter how often she heard him speak, his words still evoked thoughts of spells and fairy tales.
She might never get used to his appearance, either. What normal woman would? Especially one whose last suitor had considered a ripped-out cedar tree to be romantic.
Hold on there, girl, she cautioned herself. This was her business partner. Their association had happened literally by accident. Just because she had trouble keeping her imagination in check didn’t mean that she had to let him know about it. Prince Charming. Lordy, he’d think she was a complete fool if he ever knew the thoughts she’d been entertaining about him.
Lizzie turned from the door and walked slowly around the room, pausing to read the framed certificates that attested to awards of excellence that the company had won. Her company. Whether it was deserved or not, she felt a surge of the same kind of pride she’d felt on seeing the plaque with her name.
It’s yours. For once in your life, you have something that’s just for you.
Well, it wasn’t all hers. Fifty percent of it was Alex’s. Clasping her hands behind her back, she moved toward the massive L-shaped oak desk that dominated the spacious office. There was a computer set up on one side and an area for paperwork on the other. No clutter marred the polished surface, though. Everything was neatly aligned, from the gold pen set and the leather-trimmed blotter to the telephone that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a space shuttle. Even the picture frame was angled so that it was parallel to the pen set.
Picture? After a quick glance at the empty office doorway, Lizzie moved closer and picked up the frame to get a better look. To her surprise, it was a photograph of a pair of boys. Brothers, perhaps even twins, judging by the smiles that were reflections of each other. They both had black hair and dimples and were completely captivating. Almost as captivating as…
Who? Their uncle? Their father? What relation were these children to Alex? They had to be related somehow. There was a strong resemblance to him, not only in their coloring but in their expressions. Even though the boys appeared to be no more than five years old, there was a definite twinkle in their eyes that would probably develop into full-blown charm by the time they grew up.
Lizzie felt herself smile in response.
“Rita reminded me it’s getting late,” Alex said, striding into the office with two steaming cups of coffee in his hands. “We’ll try to wrap up our business with Jeremy as quickly as possible.”
“That’s fine with me.” She glanced up. “Who are these adorable kids?”
He hesitated when he saw what she was holding. “They’re my sons.”
“I can see the resemblance. What are their names?”
“Jason and Daniel. Jason’s the one on the left.”
“They really are adorable. How old are they?”
“They’ll be five in a few months.”
Her smile grew. “Twins. I figured that. We have a pair of twin girls in the day care center where I work. They’re always full of mischief, but they’re only three so the mischief isn’t that hard to contain.”
“You sound as if you enjoy your work.”
“I love it. I’m a sucker for kids, always have been.” She replaced the photograph on his desk and reached to take the cup he was holding out to her.
He moved the photo she had replaced, realigning it so that it was parallel to the pen set, then guided Lizzie to the sitting area in front of the corner window. He waited until she had settled comfortably into one of the deep burgundy armchairs before taking the matching one across from her. “So, how long have you worked in the day care business, Lizzie?”
“Almost four years now.”
“And before that?”
“Oh, I worked at the Packenham Dairy and then helped my stepbrother Benjamin at the cheese factory.”
He sipped his coffee slowly, watching her over the rim of his cup. “Cheese,” he repeated.
She nodded. “Pedley Cheese. He couldn’t afford to keep me on, so that’s why I started up the day care center.”
“That’s an interesting switch. What made you decide on day care?”
“It seemed to come naturally. Like I said, I’m a sucker for kids. Probably because of my family.”
“Oh? I thought you were your uncle’s only surviving relative.”
“I mean my stepfamily. When my father died, my mother remarried, and her new husband was a widower with three young children of his own. I was fourteen, and as the oldest kid in the household, I ended up helping raise the little ones.”
“Do your mother and stepfather still live in Packenham Corners?”
“Junction,” she corrected. “Packenham Corners is on the other side of the county line.”
“Sorry.”
“That’s okay,” she said generously. “Lots of folks get them mixed up. Anyhow, my stepfather, Warren Pedley, still lives on the family farm about ten miles from town, but my mother died the year after she married Warren.”
He sat forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs as he cradled his cup between his hands. “That must have been very difficult for you.”
She shook her head, not wanting to remember those dark years of her adolescence. “The Pedleys were wonderful. They always made me feel like one of the family.”
“And in return, you tried to pay them back by being helpful,” he said.
The accuracy of his insight startled her. They had met less than two hours ago, yet he had zeroed in on one of the major reasons her life had taken the direction it had. She studied him over the rim of her cup. Maybe there was more to him than a pretty face.
Of course he was more than a pretty face, she thought, exasperated with herself for dwelling on his appearance. The success exhibited by the luxury of the Whitmore and Hamill offices, as well as the famous ads and slew of awards that were displayed on the walls, made it obvious that there had to be plenty of intelligence behind those brown bedroom eyes.
“I suppose you’re right,” she continued. “I still like to help them out, but instead of baby-sitting them, I baby-sit their children. Except for my youngest stepbrother. He’s a long way from settling down and raising a family of his own.” She heard the wistful note in her voice and shifted uncomfortably. “Of course, with so many nieces and nephews to love, he could be happy just the way he is.”
“You sound as if you’re still very close to your family.”
“Oh, yes. We’re not blood relatives, but we’re still close.” Her gaze strayed back to the photo of the twins. “You’re very fortunate to have two sons. They look like fine children.”
