Deputy Daddy Read online

  There was no doubt in his mind that he would be a wonderful father for Trent and Brent, that he could teach them morals and values far more important than fancy clothes and cars. Besides, he could give them love, and he wasn't sure Carolyn knew the real meaning of that word.

  He shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. One thing was certain. He hadn't expected to be attracted to the dragon lady. Carolyn Baker might be the wrong woman to raise Trent and Brent, but she definitely sparked a physical response in him.

  Yes, indeed. It would be interesting to see how this played out. There was definitely a perverse part of him that enjoyed shaking her up. He'd enjoyed the way her eyes had widened when he'd mentioned her rear end, the way her lips had com pressed tightly when he'd commented on the blue of her eyes.

  Carolyn Baker appeared to him to be a woman who needed to be shaken up. There was a shell of cool reserve surrounding her that taunted him, enticing him to break through and discover what sort of woman was beneath. She seemed surprisingly unaware of her own sex appeal, as if she'd spent plenty of time being the head of a corporation, but very little time just being a woman.

  Minutes later, dressed in his deputy uniform, he went back into the kitchen, surprised to see the twins dressed and seated in their high chairs. His heart warmed as they kicked their legs and wiggled their bottoms in excitement at the sight of him. He kissed them each on the forehead, aware of Carolyn's narrowed gaze on him as she stirred two bowls of instant oatmeal. He also noted that a bedsheet was now spread beneath the high chairs. "Pretty ingenious," he observed.

  She shrugged. "It's easier to wash a sheet than it is to scrub the floor."

  He nodded his agreement and poured himself a cup of coffee. He leaned against the counter and watched as she positioned a chair between the two boys.

  As she alternated spoonfuls of oatmeal to each of them, a ray of sunshine streaked in through the window and painted the three of them in a warm, golden glow. Trent reached out a chubby hand and grabbed a strand of her sun-kissed hair. Trent laughed, Carolyn laughed, and the sight of her smile-softened features, the sound of her husky laughter caused Beau's stomach to clench in pleasure. He realized it was the first time he'd seen her smile, the first time he'd heard her provocative laughter; and the fact that he found both so enjoyable suddenly irritated him.

  He finished his coffee and grabbed his car keys from the counter. "I'll see you tonight," he said, then left the house and headed for work.

  As he drove to the police station, he thought again of how she and the boys had looked in that golden light spilling in the window. It had been like some thing out of a Norman Rockwell painting, a scene depicting life and love. Mother feeding the children while father looked on with pride. Anyone peeking in the kitchen window at that moment would have guessed they were a family. But it was a fraudulent image.

  Carolyn Baker—Carol Cook—was in his home under false pre tenses. She didn't want to be a part of his life. Instead, she wanted to take part of his life away with her. He couldn't forget that, even for a moment. Despite the fact that her smile had shot rivulets of warmth through him, despite the fact that her laughter had pulled a resulting smile from him, he had to remember she was his enemy.

  He pulled into his reserved parking space in front of the station and shoved all thoughts of Carolyn Baker out of his mind.

  The day passed in a flurry of paper work. Beau had two deputies who worked for him and he knew the time was fast approaching when he would have to hire a new man. Casey's Corners was growing instead of fading into the dust like so many of the small towns in Kansas. Unfortunately, along with the new people who joined the community came additional crime.

  It was almost time for him to head home when Waylon entered. He hitched his pants up, then sank down into the chair across from Beau's desk. "Gave out two speeding tickets this morning."

  "Ah, a day in the life of a crime fighter."

  Waylon grinned. "Thought I was going to have to arrest old Mrs. Baskins. When I gave her the ticket she hit me with her purse. Said she was going to tell my mama that I had no respect for my elders."

  Beau grinned. "What did you do?"

  "I told her at least my mama respected the speed limit. Mrs. Baskins hit me with her purse once more, then drove off." Waylon grinned and shook his head. "Somebody needs to take her license away. An eighty-seven-year-old speed demon is a menace to society."

  "I'll try to get out and talk to her son," Beau said, making himself a note to that effect. "Maybe he can talk her into relinquishing her driver's license, or at least get her to slow down."

  Waylon reared back and the chair groaned ominously beneath his weight. "So, how's it going with the new housekeeper?"

  Beau smiled reflectively, thinking of the dinner from the diner, the mess he'd spied in her bedroom when he'd gone in to wake her up. He shrugged. "It's too soon to tell if she's going to work out." In fact he knew she wouldn't work out. It was just a matter of time before she called a halt to whatever game she was playing and went back to her own frivolous, indulgent life.

  "There's a dinner and dance at the community center this Saturday night. Regina made me promise I'd invite you and the boys and your new housekeeper. Everyone is supposed to bring a covered dish."

  Beau grinned at this thought. It might be worth taking her just to see what kind of "covered dish" she would bring. Perhaps he would take her, at that. Beau had always been proud of the fact that Casey's Corners was filled with people who had heart, and no place was that heart more visible than at the occasional Saturday-night gatherings.

  "You tell Regina we'll be there," Beau said, making up his mind. Besides, it would be a nice outing for the twins. Immediately following the tragic car accident that had claimed their parents' lives, the townspeople had rallied around the two little boys. People had generously showered Bob's mother with food, sympathy and offers to baby-sit the children at any time.

  Beau wanted to show Carolyn exactly what kind of community love and support she was trying to take the boys away from.

  He stood, suddenly eager to be home and see how Carolyn's day had gone. He knew as well as anyone how demanding, how exhausting a full day with the boys could be. After giving Waylon parting instructions, he left.

  It bothered him, envisioning the life the kids would have if Carolyn somehow managed to gain custody. He couldn't imagine that she would give up her jet-set lifestyle to be a full-time mother. Of course, the same thing could be said for him. He had his work, which meant the boys would be raised by a housekeeper. On that particular score they were even.

  In the best of worlds, he would marry and the boys would be raised in the warmth of a family. Unfortunately, the most serious relationship he'd had was with a woman who had, since they'd broken up, married and had a child of her own. He couldn't even remember now why they had broken up. More, he couldn't remember what had attracted him to her in the first place. There had been a lot of women, a lot of water under the bridge. It had been a long time since he'd been intensely attracted to anyone…until Carolyn Baker.

  Beau tightened his grip on the steering wheel, aware that his mind was carrying him into dangerous territory. It did him no good to think of how Carolyn had looked sleeping in that sexy midnight blue nightgown. It did him no good to remember the warmth of her smile as she'd laughed with Trent that morning. She was his enemy, attempting to wrestle from him the most precious gifts fate had ever given to him. No matter how physically attractive he found her, he had to remember that she was the dragon lady who was interested only in gaining custody of the boys he loved.

  He pulled into his driveway, noting that the lawn needed tending. Perhaps he would get a chance to mow this weekend. He didn't know how long Carolyn would keep up her subterfuge, but he intended to take advantage of it. While she was taking care of the kids he could get some work done that he hadn't been able to do before.

  As he walked into the house, he was greeted by the scent of meat loaf. It didn't surp
rise him. It was Thursday, and Thurs days were "meat-loaf special" days at the diner.

  He could hear the boys in the kitchen, their fussy cries filling the house. When he entered it only took one look at Carolyn to assess that she'd had a tough day. Her hair was tousled and a vertical frown line etched the center of her forehead. A variety of stains and spills decorated her pastel floral blouse.

  Trent and Brent greeted him with squeals that were somewhere between joy and crankiness. "Hi, boys," he said, touching each of them lightly on the top of the head before sitting down in a chair at the table. "Rough day?" he asked Carolyn, who stood at the sink drying dishes.

  She hesitated a moment, then nodded. "A little. They didn't take naps today. All they did was drool and cry." She set the dish towel on the counter and rubbed her forehead.

  "Headache?"

  She nodded again, as if reluctant to admit any weakness. "I should be wearing my glasses more often."

  "So why aren't you?"

  She looked at Trent and Brent. "They won't let me."

  He stared at her blankly. "Pardon me?"

  Carolyn walked over to the countertop by the phone and picked up a pair of blue-framed glasses. She slipped them on and looked at the twins. The result was astonishing. Both boys stared at her for a moment, then burst into loud, screeching cries. Beau laughed.

  "It's not funny," she protested as she yanked the glasses off. The twins immediately stopped crying. For a moment Carolyn's eyes looked suspiciously damp. Beau was shocked. Dragons didn't cry.

  "I think the glasses scare them," Beau explained as she put the glasses back on the counter. "Tomorrow I'll pick up a couple pairs of little plastic sun glasses. Maybe if they play with those, they won't be frightened of yours."

  "That sounds like a good idea." She smiled and again Beau noticed how her features softened appealingly. He wondered how many negotiations she had clinched on the basis of that smile. "Thanks," she continued. "I was afraid I had two choices. I could be blind and have a headache or I could wear the glasses and actually see how much I scare them." Her smile lingered for another moment, then she cleared her throat and turned toward the stove. "Supper is ready."

  Just as Beau suspected, supper consisted of meat loaf, green beans and mashed potatoes and gravy. Wanda's meat-loaf special. The kids were fussier than usual. They chewed on their fists, rubbed their eyes, drooled and eyed their supper with disinterest.

  "I'm worried about the kids," Carolyn said when they were almost finished eating. "I think they're both running a little fever, and they've been really fussy all day."

  "I imagine it's nothing more serious than teething," Beau said as he finished the last bite on his plate. "I'll pick up a couple of teething rings tomorrow. In the meantime, we'll put a couple of wash cloths in the freezer and they can chew on those. The cold will soothe the irritation of their gums." He smiled at her innocently. "That meat loaf was great. Is there more?"

  "More?" She looked at him blankly. A faint pink crept up her neck. "Sorry, I don't have any more. It was a very small loaf."

  You are a wicked man, Beau thought, as he watched the blush completely sweep over her features.

  Carolyn got up from the table and began clearing the dishes from the table, her face still a soft, distinct pink. "Next time I'll make sure it's a bigger loaf," she said.

  He looked back at the boys, whose fussing had risen in volume. "I'll make you a deal," he said as he stood. "If you'll take care of the kitchen, I'll get these guys ready for bed. You said they didn't have a nap, and they act like they're tired."

  "It's a deal," she replied. She watched as Beau swung each child up into his arms, then disappeared down the hallway. She breathed an instant sigh of relief. What a day. She didn't under stand it. She'd been caring for the twins for two days, and she was still waiting for the glow.

  It was all so much more complicated than she'd originally thought it would be. There was so much more work, and the children demanded so much time and attention. How did mothers do it? How did they keep a spotless house and still give what was needed to the children?

  She'd managed to keep the living room and the kitchen relatively clean, but her bedroom had been unofficially designated as the catchall room, and things were really piling up in there.

  Teething rings, frozen wash cloths…How did Beau know so much about children? Why did it all seem to be so easy for him? The twins positively squealed with delight each time he walked into the room.

  She finished clearing the table and put all the dishes in the dish washer. Pulling the sheet up off the floor, she took it to the back door and shook it, then placed it beneath the high chairs again.

  Of course, things would be different when she got the boys back to New York. She could hire a proper, well-trained nanny to care for them during the day and she would devote her evenings to them. They would have two aunts who would love them to death and all the advantages the big city and her money could offer. Surely she would glow when she finally had them in her own home, accustomed to her routine.

  Kitchen cleaned, she went out in the hallway and stood just outside the boys' bedroom doorway. She could hear the low rhythmic squeak of the rocking chair and Beau's deep voice as he told them their bedtime story.

  She smiled, unsurprised to hear about Rapunzel sweeping the ashes in a fire place and caring for her three hateful stepsisters. Again she was struck by how easily he wore the mantle of fatherhood. Most men she knew would balk at the thought of wasting time telling bedtime stories to ten-month-old boys. Of course, most of the men she knew weren't eager to have children at all.

  Assuming the story was drawing to an end when she heard him telling them that Rapunzel had pushed the mean old witch into the oven, Carolyn walked back to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee.

  "There's nothing better than the smell of fresh-brewed coffee," Beau said as he returned to the kitchen.

  "Unless it's drinking a cup of it," Carolyn added, motioning him into a chair. "They asleep?"

  He nodded. "We'll see how long they stay that way. I'm sure it's their teeth that's giving them fits." He thanked her as she poured him a cup of coffee, then joined him at the table.

  "How do you know so much about kids?" she asked.

  "When I was ten, my mother started baby-sitting in our home. There was always at least one baby either colicky, teething or at some other stage of development." He shrugged and grinned. "Besides, I guess for some of us parenthood just sort of comes naturally."

  Carolyn sipped her coffee, then looked at him with studied nonchalance. "So, how do you know that the dragon lady wouldn't be a wonderful, loving mother to the twins?"

  Beau barked a laugh that instantly rankled her. "A barracuda probably has more maternal instinct than that woman," he answered, a grin lingering on his lips.

  "How can you know that? Didn't you tell me you've never met her before?" Carolyn was pleased to hear the cool mild interest in her voice.

  "I gained a pretty good picture of her from the things Mary told me about her."

  "And what kind of things did Mary say?" she asked, fighting to keep her indignation from her tone.

  Beau shrugged. "Apparently Mary and the dragon lady had been friends for years. They went to the same fancy private girls' school." He raked a hand through his hair, then paused to take a sip of his coffee. "Mary said she was ambitious, ruled by her need to succeed rather than her heart." He put his cup back down. "I just got a pretty good picture of the dragon lady from the little things Mary said."

  "And what kind of picture do you have?"

  "Mental or physical?" he asked.

  "Both."

  He leaned back and tipped the chair on its hind legs, his dark eyes gleaming as if he was enjoying the effects of a private joke whispered in his ear. "Mentally, I think the lady is rigid, so structured that there's no place for spontaneity in her life. She's given all to the family business, running a corporation and immersing herself in her work to make up for the fact that
she has no personal life. Away from her family wealth and position, she probably has no self-identity. She's not a woman, she's a corporation. And where her heart should be, there's nothing but a balance sheet."

  Carolyn shifted uneasily on her chair, fighting the urge to kick the back legs of his chair out from beneath him and tumble him to the floor. "And what about her physical appearance?"

  His grin was lazy and amused as he gazed at her. "I envision the dragon lady with hair about like yours, although she would never allow it to get so untidy." His grin widened as her hand reached up self-consciously to smooth order to the mussed locks.

  "Go on," she said, clenching her hands together in her lap.

  He allowed his chair to fall back forward and leaned across the table. Carolyn could smell him, a masculine scent that was instantly appealing. The smell of warm sunshine, fresh air and masculinity. His jaw was dark with the trace of a five o'clock shadow and she wondered if it would be soft, or abrasive against her skin. She leaned back in her chair, needing more distance between them.

  "Her eyes are blue," he continued, "Not the warm blue of a summer day, but the frigid blue of icy waters. And her lips are skinny, like wrinkled prunes."

  "Prunes?" Carolyn squeaked.

  He nodded with an assurance that made her want to smack him upside the head. "Anyone as re pressed and bound by duty as Carolyn Baker has to have thin, wrinkled lips from keeping them pursed in haughty distaste all the time."

  Carolyn scooted back from the table, unable to rein in her vast irritation with the man, his smug smile and unattractive assessments of her. "She may be structured and rigid and have prune lips, but she probably knows her fairy tales better than you."

  Without waiting for his reply, she stomped out of the kitchen and into her bedroom. The mess that greeted her there only made her more angry. Beau Randolf was an opinionated, small-minded, dolt.