Deputy Daddy Page 2

  "They're in the back seat and the car isn't locked," she answered, mentally battling with her con science over her role in this case of mistaken identity.

  A few minutes later he stuck his head back into the kitchen. "Your suitcases are just inside the front door. I should be home by five or five-thirty this evening." He flashed her that same sexy, obnoxious smile. "It will be great to come home to a clean house and a hot meal. See you this evening, darlin'."

  Carolyn's mouth opened and closed indignantly, but he was gone before she could come up with a proper retort to his casual endearment. "Darlin', indeed," she scoffed. She rose from her chair and eyed the kitchen distastefully. She knew Beau Randolf's type. A beer-swilling redneck who loved his gun collection and twangy, nasal music. The only place a woman would have in his life would be in the kitchen cleaning and cooking, and in his bed moaning about his prowess. Mary had told Carolyn about his penchant for dating a string of women, usually ones with lots of curves and no brains.

  She sank back down at the table, her thoughts scattered. Thank God she had received the letter yesterday from the court announcing Beau's petition for custody. The dirty rat hadn't even had the guts to inform her himself.

  All she had to do was get enough incriminating evidence on Beau to sway the judge to rule in her favor. If worse came to worst, she had enough money so she could tie the case up in court forever. She smiled at the thought. She would keep it in litigation until he was so broke the judge would give her custody because he had no place to live but a tent. Her smile slowly faded. She didn't want to go that route. Hurting Beau wasn't something she wanted to do—but she would do whatever was necessary to effect what was best for the twins. And it was best that they lived with her.

  "Well, time is wasting," she said aloud. If she was going to play this role properly, she was going to have to whip this place into shape. It was a monumental task, but she was bright, she was energetic, and most of all she was motivated.

  She looked at the twins. Both stared at her with huge blue eyes. A ripple of apprehension crawled up her spine. She had the distinct feeling that they both knew she was a fraud. At that moment their faces screwed up and they wailed.

  Chapter 2

  Beau whistled tunelessly as he drove down Main Street. He'd hardly been out of the house since taking over the care of the twins and it felt good to be out in the fresh air and morning sunshine.

  Thank God the agency had come through so quickly with help. He'd only talked to them the day before, finally admitting to himself that caring for two infants was going to require more than just a part-time baby-sitter during the hours he worked. For the past week, while he'd learned the twins' routine, chaos had taken over.

  Beau was determined to do right by those kids. He hadn't had any siblings of his own and Bob had been like a brother to him. Beau shoved away the pain of bereavement as he thought of his friend. Two years ago Beau had convinced Bob and Mary to leave New York behind and move back here, to Casey's Corners. Beau had been a frequent visitor to their home. He'd been thrilled when they had asked him to be godfather to the twins, and he was determined to raise the boys the way he knew Bob would have wanted them raised.

  Surely things would settle down, now that Carol Cook had arrived. Women had a natural touch when it came to caring for kids and organizing a home. In no time at all she would have the house whipped into shape and everything running smoothly.

  He pulled up in front of the police station. It would be good to be back at work. Even though being a deputy sheriff in Casey's Corners, Kansas, couldn't compare with work on a force in a larger town, Beau was proud of his position, proud of his hometown. Unlike Bob, Beau had never had the desire to leave, to see what other parts of the country had to offer. Beau knew that Casey's Corners was his little piece of heaven. After a while, even Bob had admitted how much he'd missed the tiny town and was glad he'd brought his new wife back here to live.

  "Hey, boss." Waylon Walker hurriedly pulled his feet off Beau's desk as Beau entered the small office. The chubby deputy stood, hauling his britches up over his generous bulk. "Wasn't expecting you in until tomorrow."

  "That agency your wife suggested I call came through. My new housekeeper showed up a little while ago at the house." Beau motioned Waylon back down in the chair.

  "Let me guess…. Fifties, with a gray bun and hips a man could get lost in?" Waylon picked at his teeth with an unbent paper clip.

  Beau laughed and shook his head. "That's pretty much what I expected. Try late twenties or so, long dark brown hair and hips that would look great in a tight pair of jeans."

  "You're kidding, right?" Waylon tossed the clip into the garbage.

  Beau shook his head again. "No joke."

  "Damn, it's not fair. Last summer Regina hired a woman to help with the kids while she had her hysterectomy, and I swear, she was nothing even remotely attractive. The woman had a mustache and muscles bigger than mine, for crying out loud."

  Beau laughed. In truth, that was more like what he'd expected. He certainly hadn't expected someone like Carol Cook. Although she had been cool and rather uptight, she'd definitely been a looker—a looker with a cute butt. He shoved this thought out of his head.

  "Single or married?" Waylon asked, a sly twinkle in his eyes.

  "Single. Since it's a live-in arrangement, the agency said she would be single, but don't get any ideas. This arrangement has to stay strictly platonic." The last thing Beau needed was a physical attraction to his new house-mate. There was too much at risk. It was best to keep things on a business level only. He wasn't particularly interested in a long-term relationship, and there was no reason to take chances with his new help. He didn't want the woman getting mad and walking off. He needed things to work out so a judge would see that he was eminently qualified to care for the boys.

  He needed Carol Cook's expertise in home making and child care far more than he needed any romantic entanglement. He had to make certain the wealthy barracuda from Manhattan had no grounds for getting custody of the boys away from him. "I can't afford to screw this up and let the godmother get those kids," Beau said after a moment.

  "What's so bad about this godmother? Every time you mention her, you get a sneer on your face," Waylon observed.

  Beau pulled up a straight-backed chair and sat down. "Actually, I've never met the woman. But I know plenty about her from Mary and Bob. Her family is rich, and she helps run the family corporation."

  Waylon grinned. "Like I asked, what's so bad about her? Sounds like the kind of woman I would have loved to marry. She could keep me in the manner in which I'd love to become accustomed."

  Beau laughed and shook his head. "No way, at least not with this woman. According to Mary, Carolyn Baker doesn't date, and she doesn't have fun. All she does is head up board meetings and make more money. The woman has no heart. Instead she has a gold bar in her chest. If and when I choose to marry, it will be to a woman who has the same values, somebody who comes from the same working-class back ground as me." Beau leaned back in his chair and frowned. "I don't want her to raise those kids. I know her kind. Her idea of a good upbringing is to send them off to a private boarding school and spend time with them once a year at Christmas."

  "That's not what Bob would have wanted for them boys," Waylon observed.

  "Exactly, and that's why I intend to fight to keep them with me." He smiled. "And now that I've got my new help, there's no way the dragon lady is going to take those kids from me. So, what have I missed around here since I've been gone?" he asked, reassured by the thought that the twins were in Carol Cook's capable hands.

  * * *

  "Just a minute!" Carolyn screamed at whoever banged on the front door. God, what now? She grabbed both of the babies from their high chairs, each one clinging to her sides like baby chimpanzees. She hurried to the door and opened it to an older woman who smiled sweetly.

  "Good morning, dearie. I've come from the Harrison Agency…about the job?"

  For
one brief moment, as Trent grabbed a handful of her hair and Brent yanked at her earring, Carolyn wanted to sob in relief and usher the woman inside. Instead, she fought against the urge and drew in a deep breath. "I'm sorry, the position has already been filled."

  "Oh, dear, that is a shame. I do so love little boys." The old woman smiled at the kids. "And they look like such sweethearts."

  "They are," Carolyn said, certain that Trent was in the process of pulling out enough of her hair to stuff a sofa. Fortunately, Brent had released her earring, sparing her ear. "Now…if you'll excuse me." She didn't wait for a reply. She closed the door, placed Brent on the floor, then tried to salvage what was left of her hair. "Let go, honey," she begged, her eyes tearing as she tried to untangle Trent's iron clasp. She jumped as Brent screamed, an ear-piercing noise that was immediately echoed by Trent. Carolyn gulped grate fully as he released her hair.

  She placed both boys in the playpen, picked up half-a-dozen toys that were scattered through out the room and tossed them into the pen, as well. She threw up a prayer of thanks as they stopped crying and became absorbed with the toys.

  Great, now she would have until lunch time to whip the house into shape. And after lunch there would surely be a nap for the boys. She grinned in self-satisfaction. A piece of cake.

  The first thing she had to do was change clothes. A silk suit was not the proper attire for baby watching—although she had a feeling nothing in her suitcase would be appropriate. What she needed was a pair of battle fatigues for spending time in the trenches.

  A war. That was exactly what she was involved in, and the enemy was Beau Randolf. His laid-back smile and down-home charm hadn't fooled her a bit. The man was ruthless. He hadn't even given her notice that there was a question of custody for the twins. When she'd learned of Bob and Mary's deaths, Carolyn had reluctantly agreed that the babies were best off with Bob's mother. At least they were with family.

  Beau's petition for custody would be decided in court in a few weeks, but he should be receiving word within the week that Carolyn had filed a claim for the twins, as well. Her heart beat accelerated with the anticipation of the challenge. She would win this battle and take the twins back to New York with her. Beau Randolf wouldn't know what hit him.

  She quickly changed into a pair of slacks and a casual blouse, remaining in the living room as she was afraid to leave the babies unsupervised for even a moment.

  Terrific, she thought, as she rolled up her sleeves. While they played in the playpen she could make a dent in the mess in both the living room and the kitchen.

  She thought of her sisters. Wouldn't they hoot if they could see her now, playing nanny and housekeeper? For the past month, since her brother's disappearance, Carolyn had been acting director for Baker Enterprises, the family corporation. She'd become quite proficient in a board room; however, her adept ness in a playroom was yet to be tested.

  Carolyn would make whatever sacrifices, rise to any challenge necessary to raise Mary's babies. Mary had been like an additional sister to Carolyn, and Carolyn knew what her friend would want for her children…and it wasn't for them to be raised by a man like Beau Randolf.

  The morning passed far too quickly. She picked up toys and changed diapers. She folded clothes and changed diapers. She washed dishes and changed diapers. She finally started to worry because there seemed to be more coming out of the boys than there was going in.

  By four o'clock she was frazzled. The twins were finally down for a nap and the house echoed with a blessed silence. She'd never imagined that two little creatures could make so much noise. She sank down at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, able to catch her breath for the first time since arriving.

  She suddenly realized she needed to call her sisters and let them know about the unexpected turn her trip had taken. Picking up the receiver, she started to call Bonnie, then remembered that Bonnie was in Europe, vacationing while she checked out some leads on Sam's disappearance.

  Instead Carolyn quickly placed a collect call to Colleen. Colleen answered, and Carolyn quickly filled her in. "Colleen, stop laughing," she demanded when she was finished the story and her sister's giggles filled the line.

  "I can't help it," Colleen sputtered. "You, a nanny and housekeeper…The mind boggles at the very thought."

  "Anything would be better for the boys than Beau Randolf," Carolyn retorted. "You should have seen this place when I arrived. Total bedlam."

  "And you're going to whip everything into shape?" Colleen laughed again incredulously. Carolyn sputtered an ineffectual protest, falling silent as Colleen continued. "Honey, you're about as maternal as mud. I'm sorry, I just can't believe you think you can pull this off. How are you going to convince Beau that you're a professional domestic? What are you going to do when it comes time to cook?"

  "Cook!" Carolyn stared at the clock in panic. "I've gotta go, Colleen. Beau will be home in an hour and a half, and he's expecting a hot home-cooked meal."

  They said their goodbyes, and Carolyn looked around the kitchen in consternation. What was she going to do about dinner? She hadn't thought about taking anything out of the freezer to thaw, and the sparse contents of the refrigerator certainly didn't spark any ideas.

  She pinched the bridge of her nose, aware of a headache pounding intently right in the center of her forehead. Dinner. Come on, Carolyn. You're smart. "You'll think of something," she mumbled as she paced the length of the kitchen. She smiled suddenly, an idea blossoming where her headache had been.

  * * *

  Beau walked into a clean living room and the smell of roast beef lingering in the air. He looked around the room. The toys were all in the playpen, the stacks of clothes had disappeared. He grinned. He'd hired a miracle worker. "Hello?" he called out.

  "In the kitchen," Carol answered.

  He hesitated in the doorway, taking in the scene before him. The twins were in their high chairs, and they broke into toothy grins as he walked in. At the sight of their smiling faces a warmth of pleasure swept through him. God, how he loved these kids. It almost frightened him, how easily, how quickly they had crawled into his heart.

  The table was set with steaming bowls and platters. Carol stood at the stove, her face flushed with the heat. She'd changed out of the suit she'd had on earlier and now wore a pale pink blouse and burgundy slacks. He couldn't help but notice the colors looked nice on her.

  "Hi, rug rats," he greeted the kids, touching Brent's nose and ruffling the fine hair on Trent's head. "Anything I can do to help?" he asked.

  "No, it's all ready." She poured the gravy she'd been stirring into a bowl, then set it on the table. "Well, let's eat," she said.

  Beau nodded and slid into his chair as she sat down across from him. "Wow, I feel like I've died and gone to heaven," he observed as he eyed the meal. "I have to confess, I figured it would take you a couple of days to get things under control, but it looks like you've worked miracles already."

  She smiled and handed him the platter of roast beef. "Never underestimate the power of a woman," she said lightly, then frowned as he filled the twins' plates with mashed potatoes and green beans. "I have their food in the microwave."

  "I always feed them table scraps for dinner. They're growing boys and need more than that pureed, strained stuff." He grinned as they squashed the potatoes between their fingers. "Although they do need a little work on their table manners." He laughed as a clump of green beans hit the floor, then sobered slightly as he realized she wasn't laughing. "Uh…I'll help clean up the mess after we eat," he offered.

  She shook her head. "That's what I'm here for."

  "Yeah, but I realized over the last week that having twins is too much work for any one person. I have a feeling it's going to take some real teamwork to keep on top of things."

  "Have you considered that perhaps raising the boys is too big a task for a single man?" she asked.

  "I've considered little else," he admitted slowly. He frowned thoughtfully, remembering all the nig
hts he'd spent soul-searching on what was the best course of action for Bob and Mary's kids. "Right after their parents' accident, it wasn't an issue because the boys were at Iris's. She's a wonderful woman, lives just a couple of blocks from here. I thought that settled it, but here they are and here they'll stay."

  "Yes, but are you sure you can give the boys all they need?"

  Beau sighed, wanting nothing more than a change in the topic of conversation. In truth, he wasn't sure of anything. "All I really know is that out of all the options, I'm the best bet for seeing that these boys are raised healthy and happy."

  "And what about this dragon lady you mentioned earlier?"

  "Ah, the dreaded New York dragon." Beau laughed. "She's the godmother of the twins. I'm positive she'd make a horrible mother."

  "Why?"

  "She's quite wealthy. According to Bob and Mary, she was raised by governesses and nannies. What could a woman like that possibly know about raising babies?" He shook his head, his jawline tense with determination. "I'm sure she's spoiled and selfish and completely shallow. She couldn't even take the time to come out here for the baptism. I'll die before I'll see those boys with her."

  Carolyn bit down hard on her tongue to keep from asking him if he felt mysteriously ill. "Perhaps she won't seek custody of them."

  "Oh, she'll seek custody," he said with an assurance that grated on her nerves. "She's stubborn as a mule and perverse beyond belief. I'm sure she's spoiled as hell and is accustomed to getting her own way. Besides, if nothing else she'll want custody just to see that I don't get what I want."

  Unsure how to answer him, she focused on the twins, who had managed to smear mashed potatoes and green beans in their hair, across their faces and down the front of their clothes. Their food was not confined to themselves, but was also scattered on the floor around their high chairs.