“Congratulations, Ms. Marshall—you have just hit the jackpot. You are the lucky winner of twins.”
Nikki stared at Seth, certain she couldn’t be hearing correctly. “What do you mean I won them?” she croaked finally.
Seth shrugged. “I could have said you lost the lottery, but I thought it would make you feel better if I put a positive spin on it. What it comes down to is, you get to keep the twins a while longer.”
Nikki’s head was spinning. “Oh, no.”
“You’re the one who volunteered for this responsibility,” Seth pointed out.
“I said I’d take care of the babies for three days. Count them—Friday, Saturday, Sunday!”
“Or until Laura gets home.”
And Laura didn’t expect to be hit by a virus, any more than I would expect to get struck by lightning…But what was she going to do about it?
Couldn’t Seth help…?
Leigh Michaels has always been a writer, composing dreadful poetry when she was just four years old and dictating it to her long-suffering older sister. She started writing romance in her teens and burned six full manuscripts before submitting her work to a publisher. Now, with more than 75 novels to her credit, she also teaches romance writing seminars at universities, writers’ conferences and on the Internet.
Leigh loves to hear from readers. You may contact her at:
PO Box 935, Ottumwa, Iowa 52501, U.S.A. or visit her Web site at www.leighmichaels.com
Books by Leigh Michaels
HARLEQUIN ROMANCE®
3783—PART-TIME FIANCÉ
3800—THE TAKEOVER BID
Assignment: Twins
Leigh Michaels
MILLS & BOON
Before you start reading, why not sign up?
Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!
Or simply visit
Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
NIKKI plunged her hands into the hot, soapy water for the last time and pulled the plug out of the drain. “There, that’s the last of the dishes.” She picked up a baby bottle which had tipped over and set it upside down to drain on one of the towels which lined the small counter.
From the dining nook just outside the galley kitchen, Laura called, “Washing three days’ worth of my dirty dishes wins you the friendship service medal, you know.”
Nikki dried her hands, rolled down the sleeves of her silky blouse, and buttoned her cuffs. “Is that all I did?” She kept her voice light. “From the size of the pile, I expected it had taken a week to build up.”
“For the average family of four, perhaps. But when you have two kids this size, dirty stuff collects in a hurry.”
Nikki paused in the doorway. Laura was sitting with her back to the kitchen, facing a pair of high chairs. In each chair was a dark-haired child, not quite a year old, each armed with a small, soft-tipped spoon and a plastic bowl. The thick, gooey, grayish, slimy-looking substance which had once been in the bowls was now spread liberally over the high-chair trays as well as the two cherubic faces, and a few lumps had landed on the plastic mat which covered the floor.
All things considered, Nikki thought, I got the best end of the deal by doing the dishes.
Laura’s babies were adorable, no question about it. But fond as Nikki was of Zack and Anna, she didn’t regret that her life had taken a different channel from Laura’s. At least, not very often.
“What is that stuff they’re eating, really?” Nikki asked.
“Rice cereal mixed with mashed pears.”
Nikki wrinkled her nose. “It looks like library paste that’s been left out to mildew.”
“Shh. They’re very sensitive to other people’s reactions to food. I mashed up some squash for them to try the other night. Stephen took one look at it and made gagging noises—and the twins spit out every bite after that.”
“You’re certain it was because of their dad? I mean, honestly, Laura—squash? They’re only eleven months old. Not liking squash seems to be part of the deal.”
“It’s an excellent source of Vitamin A,” Laura said firmly.
“I’m sure it is.” Nikki nodded toward the twins. Zack had cereal in his left eyebrow. Anna’s chin was covered with half-dried paste. “Are they actually getting any of that stuff
