had brushed against his, he’d suffered a flash of desire so hot, he’d thought the building was on fire. After finding out about Justin’s death, he’d also had an overwhelming need to take care of her, as if by doing so he could make up for the loss he hadn’t known about.
The knowledge made him itchy, uncomfortable. He didn’t know what was wrong with him to have such crazy thoughts.
Even after he’d finished the emergency surgery that night, she’d been on his mind. Her soft mouth around his fingers as he’d fed her fruit had just about done him in. Later, when his mind had kept replaying the scene without his permission, the moment had taken flight into erotic fantasy. Honey dew. Even the melon was sexy. He should be ashamed of himself.
Wasn’t it wrong to think of his friends’ wife this way, even when that friend was dead? Especially when that friend was dead? Justin wasn’t here to protect what was his.
There was that word again—protect.
Maybe that was it. Maybe Justin would expect him to look after his woman. Like a friend or a brother, not as a lusting fool who only had one thing in mind.
Ten years ago Natalie’s big blue eyes had been guileless and even a little gullible. Now they were wary and wise. Though common sense said the death of a spouse would change anyone, the difference bothered him. Just as he’d been bothered when Justin had won her affections. His hands stilled on his silk tie as the notion caught him up short. That was years ago. A college crush. Both men vying for the blond pom-pom girl with the flashing dimples and sexy legs. Justin had won. Subject closed.
To him she’d been a passing fancy, but Justin had been the family type. He had wanted it all—career, family, adventure, success—and that had been enough reason for Cooper to back off. Justin had thought he could juggle everything. Cooper knew better. Single-minded focus was the only way to reach a lofty goal. Justin’s death only proved how right he’d been. A man couldn’t have it all, at least not for long.
He slipped into a pair of Italian loafers.
Natalie still had those flashing dimples.
She had two little girls, too. Justin’s girls. Far better to focus on them. Were they doing all right? Did they need anything? It wouldn’t hurt to make certain Justin had left them well provided for.
He’d asked Natalie to call. Wonder why she hadn’t?
Once again he pulled his cell phone from his jacket, but then sat down, staring at it. He didn’t know her number.
Then he smiled. He wasn’t Congressman Randall Sullivan’s son for nothing.
* * *
“Lily, get down from there. You’re going to fall.”
At least Natalie thought it was Lily walking tight rope on the back of the couch. With identical twins, even she couldn’t always tell them apart from a distance.
Cradling the phone between her shoulder and ear, she blended confectioner’s sugar and real butter with almond extract using a mixer that had seen better days. “Listen, Regina, I’ve got to go. The timer is going off and Lily has suddenly decided to become a high rope circus act.”
“Call me later. I’m dying to hear more about that dreamy doctor.”
“Regina,” Natalie warned, but a little thrill jitter-bugged up and down her nerve endings. “Cooper is just a former friend who recognized the insulin reaction. End of story. I don’t know why I told you in the first place.”
Thank goodness she hadn’t mentioned the crazy dreams she’d had since then, confusing dreams of being held and loved and cherished by a man with very dark eyes and long, slender hands.
Regina’s warm chuckle was knowing. “Just promise to tell me more later. You tell me something, and I’ll tell you something. A tit for tat, as it were.”
“Okay, whatever.” Natalie laughed and rang off, clapped the phone onto the counter and whirled toward the beeping oven, grabbing a potholder as she moved. The duplex was so small the kitchen, living and dining room were blended together in one big area. Most of the space was taken up with her tables and equipment. Fortunately, she could work and still keep a close eye on her active girls.
As she slid the sheet cake from the oven, she heard her daughter give a tiny sigh of exasperation and then heard the thud of feet as the child hopped onto the wood floor. It was Lily, all right. Rose wouldn’t have given in so easily.
Natalie slid the cake onto a table and turned to look at the bouncy eight-year-old. Love as big and warm as a hot air balloon filled her chest.
“Rose won’t play with me,” Lily said, bottom lip extended, elfin face droopy.
“Yes, she will, punkie. Go ask her.”
Big gray eyes, reminiscent of Justin’s, gazed sadly at Natalie. “She won’t. She says Puppy doesn’t like me today so I can’t come in the room.”
“Rose!” Natalie yelled, trying to be louder than the television cartoons. Rose had an imaginary dog that didn’t like much of anyone except Rose. Whenever she was in a mood, she claimed Puppy would bite anyone who came into her bedroom—a room that also belonged to her sister.
Of her twins, Lily was the quieter, the more docile child, though sometimes when the two girls were together they could both be a handful.
The other twin, wearing a backward baseball cap and lime-green frog slippers appeared in the hallway. “Are we going to get a Christmas tree? Ashley already has one with ten presents under it.”
Natalie ignored the obvious distraction technique. Rose was an expert at distraction. Natalie crossed the room to lower the volume on the TV set. “Play nicely with your sister or Santa might not bring you anything at all this year. No need for a tree in that case.”
Rose perched a hand on one hip. “Mom! There is no Santa Claus.”
Lily piped up at that. “Yes, there is. I saw him. Remember?”
Rose shot her sister a look. She might only be two minutes older, but sometimes she behaved as though Lily was two. “That was Daddy. Santa doesn’t come anymore since Daddy died.”
Natalie’s heart twisted right in half. Justin had dressed up in a Santa suit every year after the twins were born. He got such a kick out of their squealing reactions and out of making out with Mrs. Claus after the girls were fast asleep. But she couldn’t for the life of her imagine how Rose could remember all that.
She went down on her knees in front of her daughter and pulled her close with one hand as she reached for Lily with the other. “Santa came last year. You just didn’t see him.”
“You don’t have to pretend anymore, Mom,” Rose said, far too grown-up for Natalie’s comfort. “The presents are from you and Grandma in Arizona. I can tell. Santa always brought big stuff.”
Oh, yes, Justin bought out the local toystore every year. “Well, big or not, lady, we always have Christmas.”
“It’s not about the stuff, anyway, is it, Mommy?” Lily, the peacemaker spoke up.
“No, sweetie,
