didn’t make sense to him. She wasn’t ugly. In fact, in his book she’d rate a second look with her wide blue eyes, chestnut hair pulled back in a braid and slender figure. If he were interested in marrying again, he hurriedly reminded himself.
A tug on his leg got his attention.
“Daddy?”
“Not now, Gareth,” he muttered. Somehow it bothered him that his children meet a woman desperate enough to answer that crazy ad.
“But, Daddy—”
“I said not now!”
The woman was turning away from the door when Justin, Gareth’s twin brother, called from the kitchen, “Hurry, it’s getting bigger.”
The woman stopped and stared at them, a puzzled frown on her face. He nodded at her and started closing the door, anxious to send her on her way. But a look in her eyes stopped him. She was staring in horror over his shoulder.
Uneasiness filled him as he turned to follow her gaze.
With good reason. Black smoke was trailing out the kitchen door.
Chapter Two
“Justin!” Doug yelled even as he charged down the hall. The appearance of his towheaded son at the door was a relief, but he didn’t have time to appreciate it then.
Racing into the kitchen, he grabbed the handle of the skillet on the burner, the flames in it higher than the ones underneath. As he swung it to the sink, the searing iron of the skillet burned into his hand, and he let loose a bloodcurdling yell.
A slim hand reached around him and turned on the cold water, directing the flow into the skillet. The smoke tripled as cold met hot. Before he could think how to relieve the pain that was shooting through him, that same hand grabbed his and, redirecting the water to the other sink, put his palm under the flow of water.
“Don’t move,” she ordered.
Vaguely he was aware she’d extinguished the flames on the stove. But he didn’t know where she went until she dumped a handful of ice cubes into the deepening water. But he wasn’t going to complain. He was in agony.
“Aren’t you supposed to use butter or something?” he asked, his voice gritty as he tried to hide his pain.
“No. That’s the worst thing to use.” She made another trip to the refrigerator for more ice.
He had forgotten his children until he heard a giggle and then watched as they dropped ice cubes into the water.
“We never made icewater in the sink before. Is Daddy gonna drink it?” Justin asked.
“No, he’s not,” the woman answered, smiling at the boy. “We’re trying to stop his hand from burning.”
“Like the skillet? Is he gonna have fire in his hand?” Gareth asked as he rose on tiptoe to peer over the side of the sink.
“No,” she said again. “But his hand is going to hurt a lot.”
Justin and Gareth frowned.
“Does it, Daddy?” Gareth finally asked.
“What?” Doug muttered, his mind intent on the woman’s actions rather than his sons.
“Does it hurt really bad?”
“Yeah.” His gaze met the woman’s and he realized he owed her his thanks. “Uh, I appreciate your help.”
A half smile and a shrug was her only response.
“How long do I have to keep my hand in the water?”
“You can take it out whenever you want, but it’s best to keep it in until the burning stops.” She had that sexy voice he remembered from the answering machine—soothing at the moment, warm.
“I’m gonna look pretty funny on a horse with a sink attached,” he muttered.
Another smile. Suddenly he wondered if she ever laughed. If her blue eyes lit up and her lips— What was wrong with him? He didn’t even know this woman.
“I think a half hour will be long enough.”
She didn’t even seem put out by his ill humor. His eyebrows rose slightly as he stared at her.
“Daddy?” Justin asked, jerking on his jeans.
“What, son?”
“What are we gonna eat for dinner? We’re hungry.”
Leslie looked down at the identical pairs of brown eyes. The boys were cute, but something in the looks they were giving her made her wonder about their guilelessness.
After an awkward silence, she said, “I could fix you something if your father doesn’t mind.” She allowed her gaze to only glance off the man still standing by the sink. He was even sexier than his voice had promised.
“That’s not necessary—”
The children drowned him out with their excited questions.
“Can you make cookies?” one of the twins demanded, a smile on his face, as if he already knew the answer.
“I told you I could,” she said, raising one brow.
“That was you?” the boys asked, excited looks on their faces.
“What do you mean?” the man growled. “What is she talking about, Gareth?”
“Didn’t you tell your father about my phone call?” Leslie asked, looking from one twin to the other. Their brown eyes widened to give them a look of innocence, but Leslie wasn’t fooled. She turned to their father. “I’m sorry, Mr. Graybow. I thought you were expecting me.”
“What are you talking about? What phone call? Boys, what have you done this time?”
“But, Daddy, she can make cookies.”
“And she said she likes little boys,” Justin added.
The frustration and anger in the man’s brown eyes, quite like his sons’, gave Leslie the answer to whatever question she might ask. The man wasn’t interested in hiring her, even on a temporary basis.
“Sorry, guys. I guess this was a bad idea.” She smiled at the little boys and turned to go.
“But what are we going to eat for dinner? Daddy gots his hand in the sink, and we’re hungry,” one of the twins repeated.
Leslie hesitated. Though she recognized their plea as one of manipulation, she wouldn’t mind a little dinner herself. It was a long drive back to town. “I make a very good grilled-cheese sandwich. If your father doesn’t mind, I could fix some.”
Though seemingly reluctant, the man at the sink gave an abrupt nod and the boys cheered.
For
