a whiff of Dana’s fragrance and realized he could find her in a pitch-black room. The memory of her scent would haunt him forever.
The thought made him hot all over. In his shaky hands, the cellophane snapped, crackled and popped. Not unlike what was going on inside him. Could she tell? He glanced at her to see if she’d noticed.
But she was watching Lukie, who had lost interest in the peace offering. The boy had crawled under his desk and was now on the other side diddling with his computer keyboard.
“Lukie, don’t touch Mr. Mac’s things,” she warned him.
“Okay,” he said and stopped. For a moment.
“I should have left them with Hannah for a few more minutes while I made my peace offering,” she said. “But they’re there all day and I hate to leave them longer than I absolutely must.”
“I’m glad you didn’t. I like seeing them. And this is great,” Quentin said, peering at the wrapping. It was not quite transparent enough to see the contents. “But you really didn’t have to do it.”
“It’s no big deal. But do you have any idea how hard it is to come up with a contrition offering for a man who has more money than God?”
As always, his warning signals went up at the mention of his money. “It’s the thought that counts,” he said automatically.
“That’s a cliché, but I hope you really mean it,” she answered.
“Open your pwesent,” Lukie said. He raced around the desk. “Mommy and me wapped it. Me and my sisters maked cookies.”
“Way to go, buddy.” Quentin looked at the boy’s mother. “When did you have time?”
She shrugged. “They get up at the crack of dawn. We baked this morning before work and day care.”
Quentin put the basket on his desk and untied the ribbon. Inside he found cookies, muffins and peanut brittle. Nestled in the center of the baked goods there was an envelope. He opened it and found a gift certificate to the local dry cleaner.
“Perfect,” he said chuckling. He met Dana’s gaze. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she said.
The children lost interest as soon as the basket was opened and they drifted away. Quentin noticed the girls quietly checking out the magazines sitting on the table in the corner.
“Don’t touch things,” Dana warned them. “You too, Lukie. Put down Mr. Mac’s eyeglasses.” The boy had retreated to the other side of his desk again and was examining the glasses Quentin used for computer work.
Quentin studied Dana. She was definitely tense. He hoped she wasn’t really worried about spilling on him. Or was something else bothering her?
“The kids are fine, Dana. It’s their job to explore,” he said gently.
“And it’s my job to pay for what they destroy in the process of doing their job,” she said. Glancing around his office she continued, “And you have a wonderful office with all kinds of things to break.”
“Thank you, I think.”
“So much to explore, so little time,” she said, giving his work space an admiring glance.
He followed her gaze. He liked it and was pleased that she approved. On the hunter-green carpet, his oak desk and computer return filled the center of the room. Across from it was the soft brown leather sofa. From time to time, he had picked out pieces of art and knickknacks that caught his fancy. The cost hadn’t fazed him.
A worried frown marred her smooth forehead. “But do you have something against plastic?”
“Excuse me?”
“Everything in here is breakable. I’d better get the children home before you regret that we dropped in. Dropped being the operative word.”
“Don’t go yet,” he said before he could stop himself. “The carpet is thick. Things bounce.”
“I’m glad. Because my budget doesn’t have much bounce,” she said ruefully. “But we’re doing fine financially,” she added quickly.
To reassure her or himself, he wondered. He decided to change the subject. “How’s business?”
“Good. Storkville is a wonderful community for a baby store. The population is growing steadily, hence the store is doing well. I think word is out about what a great place it is to raise children.” Her pretty face clouded. “Which is probably why the twins were left with Hannah. I hope they find whoever abandoned those babies.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” he said, uncomfortable with the direction his change of subject had taken her.
“There should be a special place in hell for someone like that. Who could walk out on their children? Steffie and Sammy are so adorable. I worry about Molly, Kelly and Lukie every moment I’m not with them.”
Had she heard that the sheriff suspected him of fathering the twins? He studied her reaction, trying to decide if her tirade was general or specific to him. Suddenly an alarmed expression suffused her features and she hurried around his desk.
“Lukie, put that down,” she said, removing a ceramic paperweight from the child’s hand. She glanced ruefully at Quentin. “Something tells me you don’t do much business with three-year-olds.”
He laughed. “No. But I’m looking into it.”
He realized he wasn’t joking. The moment she’d walked into his office with her munchkin marauders, their energy and innocent curiosity had lifted his spirits. He liked watching them. He liked watching her. He would like to have them around. A lot.
He wondered if Aunt Gertie’s lemonade, which he’d sipped the night before, was to blame for his thoughts. The rumor was that it was supposed to help women get pregnant. Could it put thoughts of settling down with a ready-made family into a lonely bachelor’s head? Even one who had been avoiding gold diggers all his adult life?
Did Dana fall into the gold digger category? His every instinct said no. She had ignored him after their first meeting. His gut told him she wouldn’t be here now if not for the lucky coffee accident last night. And she’d had a little help from the mayor. He made a mental note to send Cleland Knox a special greeting when the holidays rolled around this year.
With her son’s hand firmly gripped in her own, Dana walked back around in front of him. “If your clientele expands to children, I’d advise you to kid-proof your office. Otherwise the pressure will age you before your time.”
“I’m not worried. Relax, Dana. They’re things. Replaceable.”
“Easy for you to say,” she said, sighing loudly as Lukie pulled his hand from hers and wiggled back under the desk. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Kelly and Molly touching a crystal bell on a shelf in the curio cabinet in the corner.
“Put that down, girls,” she said, an edge to her voice. “Please don’t touch.”
“But,
