has tractors, which isn’t generic. It’s definitely a boy print.”
She crossed her arms, noticing how they rested across the ledge of her tummy these days. “I hope you’re not one of those guys who thinks that little boys always have to be dressed in blue and can’t ever carry a doll. Or that girls can’t play with blocks or trucks.”
“My kids can play with whatever catches their fancy,” he said, “as long as it isn’t dangerous.”
“Your son will get to play with dolls?”
He seemed to ponder that for a moment, then said, “Sure, if he wants to. But I might encourage him to trade them for a teddy bear or stuffed dinosaur instead.”
“Playing with dolls can help a boy learn to be nurturing and gentle,” she said.
“Maybe so. But most kids learn how to behave by watching their parents. And when mommy and daddy show kindness and love toward themselves and others, the kids are more apt to follow suit.”
He had a point, she supposed. Modeling the kinds of behavior and attitudes she wanted her children to have would certainly help. After all, it must work that way, because she’d grown up to be a lot like her mother.
“So tell me,” he said. “Did you play with trucks and cars when you were a little girl?”
“Actually, I played with whatever I could get my hands on—plastic containers my mom kept in cupboards, an old box she brought home from work and I colored to look like a castle. Money was pretty scarce when I was a child. So I learned to be content with what I had.”
His expression shifted from playful to serious. “I just assumed you were a trust-fund baby, like Peter.”
She was now, she supposed, thanks to Peter’s will. But it wasn’t always that way. “Actually, I had partial scholarships to college and worked at the bookstore all four years.”
“No kidding?”
“I wouldn’t joke about something like that.”
He studied her, it seemed. As if he’d suddenly seen something he hadn’t expected to see.
“Does that disappoint you?” she asked, wondering if he’d somehow found her lacking, too. She’d always felt like one of the commoners around her in-laws.
“Why would it?”
Because there were others who’d thought that she hadn’t fit into Peter’s world. But she let that go unsaid and gave a little shrug instead.
“To be honest,” he said, “I’m actually relieved that you’re more down-to-earth than I thought.”
“Why’s that?”
He hesitated. “I wasn’t all that fond of your late husband. And I’m glad to see how different the two of you were. It will make being neighbors a whole lot more pleasant.”
She pulled out a chair, indicated that he should sit there, then took a seat next to him. “Tell me something, Hector. What did you and Peter bump heads over?”
He paused for a moment, as if needing to think over his answer, then said, “Behaviors and attitudes. I suspect our parents modeled two different world views in us, two different sets of values.”
“And you argued?”
“Not exactly. Comments were made. Offense was taken. Bottom line? I guess you could say we just didn’t respect each other and decided to leave well enough alone.”
That surprised her. Peter had always treated people with respect. And other than Hector, she didn’t know anyone who disliked him.
Deciding to drop references to her late husband, she turned back to the wallpaper.
“So you really like the bunnies?”
“Don’t you?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t have brought it home for you to look at if I didn’t.” She offered him a smile.
“Does it matter what I think?”
For some reason, it did. And not just when it came to the nursery.
What would Hector say when she told him there were three babies growing in her womb? And that each of them was carrying half of Peter’s DNA?
And why in the world should it even matter?
After a little more small talk about ducks and chickens, fairies and unicorns, Hector got up to leave.
She almost invited him to stay for dinner, but she didn’t want him to think that she was trying to monopolize his time.
“Thanks for your giving me your opinion,” she said.
“Anytime. If there’s anything that’s a given about me, it’s that you can count on me to have an opinion.”
She smiled as she walked him to the door.
“For what it’s worth,” he said, as he reached for the brass knob, “I actually liked the farm print best.”
“But you said it was boyish.”
“I figured you for bunnies, so I told you what I thought you wanted to hear.”
“Why’s that?”
He studied her a moment, as though trying to decide whether to level with her or not, then he winked. “Because you have the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen.”
She couldn’t tell if he was teasing or serious or both. And when he reached for the doorknob to let himself out, she was more intrigued by him than ever.
Chapter Five
After their little talk last night, Samantha decided that she really ought to avoid Hector, especially since she was finding herself more drawn to him, more intrigued by what he had to say. More attracted, she realized. How crazy was that?
After all, he couldn’t possibly be interested in dating a woman with a ready-made family, especially when one plus one equaled five. So after a long, restless night that had her dreaming about all kinds of scenarios—including three darling little babies and a tall, dark and handsome daddy—she decided to keep to herself from now on.
And she would have done just that, if Hector hadn’t rung her doorbell again early the next morning.
She’d been up for hours, or so it seemed, yet she hadn’t expected anyone to stop by. When she’d swung open the door, her breath had caught when she’d spotted him standing on the stoop in a pair of khaki slacks and a pale blue golf shirt. She remembered that he had always packed his golf bag into the back of his trunk every Saturday morning before taking off for the bulk of the day. And that she’d seen his clubs in his foyer yesterday.
So why had he stopped by her house before heading to the country
