glow over the table.
Classical music drifted softly from inside. Okay, so it was actually something called “The Mozart Effect—Music for Babies,” and he used it to help soothe Olivia and Owen to sleep. But it still qualified as mood-setting music for grown-ups.
And holy crap, did Alexa ever qualify as a smoking hot adult.
She’d changed into one of his T-shirts with the fluffy hotel robe over it. She looked as if she’d just rolled out of his bed. An ocean breeze lifted her whispery blond hair as late evening street noises echoed softly from the street below. Tonight had been the closest he’d come to experiencing family life with his children.
He hadn’t dated much since his divorce and when he had, he’d been careful to keep that world separate from his kids. Working side by side with Alexa had more than cut the tasks in half tonight. That made him angry all over again that he’d screwed up so badly in his own marriage. He and Pippa had known it was a long shot going in, but they’d both wanted to give it a chance, for the babies. Or at least that’s what he’d thought, until he’d discovered Pippa wasn’t even sure if he was the biological father.
His gut twisted.
Damn it all, Olivia and Owen were his children. His name was on their birth certificate. And he refused to let anyone take them from him. Pippa vowed she wasn’t going to challenge the custody agreement, but she’d lied to him before, and in such a major way, he had trouble trusting her.
He studied the woman across from him, wishing he could read her thoughts better, but she held herself in such tight control at all times. Sure, he knew he couldn’t judge all females by how things had shaken down between him and Pippa. But it definitely made him wary. Fool him once, shame on her. Fool him twice. Shame on him.
Alexa Randall was here for one reason only. To use him to jump-start her business. She wasn’t in St. Augustine to play house. She didn’t know, much less love, his kids. She was doing a job. Everybody in this world had an agenda. As long as he kept that knowledge forefront in his mind, they would be fine.
He reached for his seltzer water. “You’re good with kids.”
“Thanks,” she said tightly, stabbing at her pudding.
“Seriously. You’ll make a good mother someday.”
She shook her head and shoved away her half-eaten dessert. “I prefer to have a husband for that and my only attempt at marriage didn’t end well.”
The bitterness in her voice hung between them.
He tipped back his crystal glass, eyeing her over the rim. “I’m really sorry to hear that.”
Sighing, she dipped her finger in the water and traced the rim of her glass until the crystal sang. “I married a guy who seemed perfect. He didn’t even care about my family’s money. In fact, he sided with my dad about signing a prenup to prove it.” Faster and faster her finger moved, the pitch growing higher. “After always having to second-guess friendships while growing up, that felt so good—thinking he loved me for myself, unconditionally.”
“That’s how it’s supposed to work.”
“Supposed to. But then, I’m sure you understand what it’s like to have to question everyone’s motives.”
“Not always. I grew up in a regular farming family in North Dakota. Everyone around me had working class values. I spent my spare time camping, fishing or flying.”
“Most of my friends in private school wanted the perks of hanging out with me—shopping trips in New York. For my sixteenth, my mother flew me and my friends to the Bahamas.” She tapped the glass once with a short fingernail. “The ones with parents who could afford the same kind of perks were every bit as spoiled as I was. No wonder I didn’t have any true friends.”
Having to question people’s motives as an adult was tough enough. But worrying as a kid? That could mark a person long-term. He thought of his children asleep in the next room and wondered how he would keep their lives even-keeled.
“So your ex seems like a dream guy with the prenup…and…?”
“His only condition was that I not take any money from my family.” Her eyes took on a faraway, jaded look that bothered him more than it should have for someone he’d just met. “My money could go into trust for our kids someday, but we would live our lives on what we made. Sounded good, honorable.”
“What happened?” He lifted his glass.
“I was allergic to his sperm.”
He choked on his water. “Uh, could you run that by me again?”
“You heard me. Allergic to his swimmers. We can both have kids, just not with each other.” She folded her arms on the edge of the table, leaning closer. “I was sad when the doctor told me, but I figured, hey, this was our call to adopt. Apparently Travis—my ex—didn’t get the same message.”
“Let me get this straight.” Seth placed his glass on the table carefully to keep from snapping the stemware in two with his growing anger. “Your ex-husband left you because the two of you couldn’t have biological children together?”
“Bingo,” she said with a tight smile that didn’t come close to reaching her haunted blue eyes.
“He sounds like a shallow jerk.” A jerk Seth had an urge to punch for putting such deep shadows in this woman’s eyes. “I would be happy to kick his ass for you. I may be a desk jockey these days, but I’ve still got enough North Dakota farm boy in me to take him down.”
A smile played at her lips. “No worries. I kick butts on my own these days.”
“Good for you.” He admired her resilience, her spunk. She’d rebuilt her life after two nearly simultaneous blows from life that would have debilitated most people.
“I try not to beat myself up about it.” Sagging back in the wrought-iron patio chair, she clutched the robe closed with her fists. “I didn’t have much practice in making smart choices about the people I invited into my life. So it stands to reason I would screw that one up, too.”
“Well, I’m a damn good judge of character and it’s obvious to me that he screwed up.” Seth reached across the table and touched her elbow lightly where the sleeve fell back to reveal the vulnerable crook. “Not you.”
Her eyes opened wider with surprise, with awareness, but she didn’t pull away. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I know there had to be fault on both sides.”
“Still, that’s not always easy to see or say.” His hand fell away.
“What about your ex?” She straightened the extra fork she hadn’t needed for her dinner. In fact, she hadn’t eaten much of her fire-grilled sea scallops at all and only half of her bread pudding. Maybe the cuisine here didn’t suit her. “Does she make it a regular practice to run off and leave the kids?”
“Actually, no.” Pippa was usually diligent when it came to their care. In fact, she usually cried buckets anytime she left them.
Alexa tapped the top of his hand with a whisper-soft touch. “Come on now. I unloaded about my
