Deputy Daddy Page 7

  "Museums, the opera, theatrical productions—things like that."

  "Once a year the high school puts on a dynamite theatrical production, and Ralph Watson, our resident barber, sings a mean aria when he's had one too many beers. As far as museums go, Ben Walker charges a dollar a head for a tour of his barn where there are more relics from the past than you've ever seen in one place."

  Carolyn frowned. A high-school play, a drunken barber and an old barn weren't exactly what she'd had in mind as cultural enlightment. "Besides driving around and mooning people, what on earth do the teenagers do with their time on weekends?"

  Beau stopped to pick up a rattle Trent had dropped. He rubbed it on his jeans, then gave it back to the little boy. "We've got a movie theater and a bowling alley, and lots of times they have parties in the cemetery." He laughed at Carolyn's shocked expression. "There's no better way to get a girl to cuddle with you than by frightening her in the darkness of a cemetery." His laugh faded and he looked at her soberly. "Actually, we've got a good bunch of kids here, raised with strong parental support and values and plenty of love. Besides, there's no place in this town that kids can go and misbehave without somebody seeing them and threatening to tell their parents."

  As they rounded a corner the community building came into view. More than a dozen cars and trucks were parked out front, and the sounds of talking and laughter drifted out the open door. Carolyn's nerves unexpectedly tingled with anxiety. It was one thing to misguide Beau as to who she really was, quite another to mislead an entire town. In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought. The welfare of Trent and Brent was worth any subterfuge necessary.

  When they entered the building, greetings immediately over whelmed them. Beau introduced Carolyn to the many people who came to coo at the boys, and her head spun with new names and faces.

  It wasn't until the supper officially began that she finally had time to assimilate and put names to faces. She and Beau sat at the end of a long picnic table, the boys happily playing in and eating a conglomeration of food on their stroller trays. The cacophonous din in the room made it difficult for her to hear Beau as he tried to tell her a little some thing about each of the people in the room.

  She leaned closer to him as he pointed out Ralph Watson, the baritone barber. Beau put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her nearer as he told her that not only did Ralph sing in the shower, but he also was sleeping with Margaret Benton, the lady who owned the local floral shop. "Even though Ralph and Margaret pretend there is nothing going on between them, people have been making bets at the post office as to when he'll be singing his arias in Margaret's shower."

  "How can you know all these people's secrets?" she asked incredulously. In the last few minutes Beau had told her who was sleeping with whom, who was a closet drinker. He seemed privy to all kinds of information.

  He smiled, his gaze holding hers for a long moment. "There are very few secrets in Casey's Corners."

  For a moment Carolyn's heart jumped and skipped a beat. Did he know? Was he aware of her duplicity? Or was the erratic beat of her heart a reaction to the warmth of his arm around her shoulders, his evocative scent that surrounded her, the close ness of his lips to her as he whispered in her ear?

  She leaned away from him, breathing in relief as he dropped his arm from around her. "I am so stuffed," she said, pushing her paper plate away. "I've never seen so much food all in one place."

  Beau smiled. "One thing all the folks in Casey's Corners have in common is a love of good food. Your bean casserole was a hit." His smile faded as he looked past her. Carolyn followed his gaze to see an older woman entering the room. "Excuse me." Beau got up and hurried toward the woman.

  Beau hugged her, then stepped aside as others came up to greet her. A few minutes later, Beau escorted her toward Carolyn and the twins. As they drew closer, Carolyn noticed that the left side of the woman's face sagged and her gait was slightly uneven. Her left foot dragged as if without energy and her left arm hung limp at her side.

  "Carol, I'd like you to meet Iris Johnson, Bob's mother and Trent and Brent's grandmother."

  Carolyn stood and her hand was clasped warmly by Iris. "It's so nice to meet you. Beau has told me what a help you've been with the children." Iris's blue eyes teared as she looked past Carolyn to where the twins sat in their stroller. "And there's my babies."

  She released Carolyn's hand and bent down to the boys, who broke into tooth less, drooling grins as she cooed to them. "Oh, they look wonderful." She struggled back up and smiled at Beau and Carolyn. "I think every day they look a little bit more like Bob. Don't you think so?" she asked Beau. Carolyn heard the grief in Iris's voice, the need for continuity between her beloved son and the two little boys in the stroller.

  "Yes, they look a lot like Bob," Beau agreed softly. He placed an arm around Iris's thin shoulders, their mutual fondness evident.

  "I'm so grateful the children weren't in the car with Bob and Mary when the accident occurred." She looked back at the twins, her eyes teary. "I don't know what I would do if I'd lost all of them."

  Beau gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Trent and Brent are lucky to have a grandma as loving as you."

  Iris smiled grate fully at him, then reached a hand out to take Carolyn's. "And between the three of us, we're going to see that those boys grow up right here in Casey's Corners, right?"

  "Right," Beau instantly replied.

  Both of them looked at Carolyn. She smiled and nodded vaguely, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Taking the boys away from this town, away from Beau and Iris, was definitely going to be more difficult than she'd initially anticipated. For the first time since she'd arrived in Casey's Corners, Carolyn wondered if she was doing the right thing.

  Chapter 6

  "Come and dance with me," Beau said to Carolyn. The supper was officially over and the picnic tables had been pushed toward the sides of the large room to provide a dance floor in the center. A three-piece band had set up and several couples were already dancing to the country tune they played.

  She looked at the twins. "Come on, Iris will watch them while we dance," he said, effectively stifling the protest he knew she was about to voice.

  "Go on," Iris urged. "I'll be more than happy to sit here with the boys." She shook a rattle and both boys laughed in delight.

  Beau reached for Carolyn's hand and pulled her out among the other couples who were dancing to the beat of the music. "I don't know how to dance this way," she protested.

  "It's just an easy two-step," he assured her. "All you have to do is follow me." He pulled her into his arms and realized this was what he'd been waiting for all night long, an excuse to hold her close.

  Her perfume filled his senses, muddled his thoughts as he allowed himself to fall into the pleasurable sensation of her body close to his. The material of her dress was cool to his touch, but he could feel the heat of her body radiating beneath it. Her hair smelled nice, like spring time flowers on an apple tree.

  "You dance very well," she said after a moment.

  He smiled down at her. "Don't sound so surprised. Even us country boys know how to cut a rug on the dance floor."

  "You're a man of many talents."

  "You've only seen a few of them." His smile widened as a soft blush swept over her features and she averted her gaze from his. There was some thing about her that seemed so un touched, so innocent. "Aren't you interested in some of my other talents?"

  "I don't think so." Her voice sounded a little breathless as she kept her head averted.

  Beau liked the way she sounded when he managed to shake her up. He wondered if she'd emit breathless sighs when she made love? He wondered if husky moans would escape her lips when she was caressed? He stopped these thoughts, aware that his body was responding in a distinctly physical way to the heat of his erotic visions.

  "One of my talents is that I can whistle all of the theme song to 'The Andy Griffith Show.'"

  "I told you I wasn't interested
in your hidden talents," she replied, but a small smile danced at the corner of her mouth.

  God, she was so beautiful. He found himself wanting to watch that smile sweep completely over her features. He wanted to hear the smoky laughter that warmed him from the inside out.

  "I can also carve an apple to look like Abraham Lincoln," he continued, wanting desperately to make that tiny smile widen. "And I sing a mean rendition of 'Blue Suede Shoes.'"

  She laughed and a thrill coursed through him. "You're crazy," she exclaimed.

  He nodded. "I am. Now tell me some of your secret talents."

  She shook her head as the song they'd been dancing to came to an end. "Ah, too late. The dance is over."

  As the band began a slow ballad, Beau pulled her back into his arms, this time so close he could feel the press of her breasts against his chest. "Not so fast," he protested. "I can't let you go until you confess your secret, hidden talents. After all, it's only fair since I bared mine to you."

  She laughed again, but didn't try to leave his embrace. She frowned thoughtfully, causing an endearing wrinkle to furrow her brow. "I can swim the length of a swimming pool under water without taking a breath."

  "No big deal. So can I."

  Her frown returned as she gazed at him thoughtfully, then smiled. "I can cross only one eye."

  He looked at her skeptically. "Only one?"

  She nodded and as he watched, her left eye drifted to the center, then straightened once again. As he laughed, she flushed and shook her head. "I can't believe I'm doing this—standing in the middle of a dance floor crossing one eye." She laughed, a pleasant sound that rolled over Beau like a cool breeze on a hot summer night. "You're a bad influence on me."

  Beau smiled and pulled her closer against him. He had a feeling he was a good influence on her. She was far too serious, far too intense too often. A little uninhibitedness was good for the soul. "You know we'll be the talk of the town tomorrow," he murmured softly.

  "Just for dancing together?" She looked up at him again, her eyes a wide, brilliant blue.

  "It doesn't take much to start talk." He remembered all the gossip that had drifted though town about him when he'd been dating a lot. According to the local tale-bearers, he'd been having an affair with every woman he took out for a cup of coffee.

  All too soon the dance came to an end and Carolyn moved out of his arms. As she walked back over to where Iris sat with the twins, Beau was stopped by Waylon.

  "You lucky dog, you," Waylon said, his gaze following Carolyn as she sat down next to Iris. "She's a real looker."

  "She is pretty, isn't she?"

  "Regina is dying to meet her."

  Beau smiled, knowing Waylon's wife was one of the town's most prolific gossips, but a woman with a heart of pure gold. "Bring her over and I'll make the introductions."

  Moments later, after Beau had introduced Regina and Carolyn, he leaned against the wall, his gaze scanning the crowded room. He saw Verna Walrick dancing with one of the Bellamy brothers. She smiled and winked at him. He smiled back, one without promise.

  He'd been considering asking Verna out before the twins had come to live with him. He watched the buxom blonde twirling on the dance floor and realized he had no desire whatsoever to ask her out. Everyone knew that Verna didn't want to get married. She was having too much fun.

  He frowned, thinking back over the women he'd dated. Funny, he'd always gravitated toward the women he knew didn't want a long-term relationship. Mary used to tease that because he was such an important part of their family, he had no need to have a family of his own. But he knew the single thing that had kept him from marrying so far was fear. The fear that his own relationship wouldn't live up to the glowing examples he'd been given in his life—first his parents, then Bob and Mary. He'd seen the best of relation ships and would settle for nothing less for himself.

  What scared him now was that since Carolyn Baker had moved into his home, there was no other woman in the town of Casey's Corners who sparked even a minute interest. Through out the evening he had looked at all the single women in the room, and realized that none of them did a thing for him—none of them except Carolyn.

  It's nothing more than a bad case of lust, he told himself firmly. He turned his gaze to where Regina and Carolyn were in the middle of an animated conversation. Carolyn used her hands effusively as she talked, and he tried to imagine her in a board room making decisions that generated dollars. Unfortunately, all he could see was a mental image of her sleeping in that damned sexy nightgown.

  Lust, he thought again. He certainly wasn't a stranger to the cravings of lust. But it had been his experience that the best way to deal with lust was to sate it. And once sated, it quickly disappeared.

  He didn't entertain any thoughts of a future with her. With or without the twins, eventually Carolyn would go back to her life in New York. They were from different worlds, lived completely different lifestyles. He was certain their values, their desires, their dreams were completely opposite. The only thing they had in common was the fact that both of them wanted the boys.

  It was just after ten o'clock when Beau decided it was time to get the children home. They were fussy, obviously over stimulated and over tired. Carolyn seemed to read his mind. The moment he looked at her, she nodded and began packing up the diaper bags.

  "It might take more than a bedtime story to get these guys settled down tonight," he observed moments later, as they started the walk home.

  "They both seem overtired," she agreed.

  Overhead the stars beamed down brilliant light and a full moon peeked out from behind an errant cloud. Beau breathed deeply of the cool night air. It was spiced with all the scents of small-town living. It was the smell of green pastures, and the lingering odors of home cooking. "Beautiful night," he commented. He watched as she drew in a deep breath, a pleasant smile lingering on her lips.

  "Hmm, it smells so clean."

  Beau merely nodded. God, she was beautiful with the moon light stroking her features and making her eyes shine with a luminous light. She was softer, warmer, so much more alive than he'd imagined in all his previous thoughts of the formidable Carolyn Baker.

  She's just hiding her prickly side, he told himself. She's playing a role for my benefit. In reality she has no heart, no real soul. Making money, that was what the Bakers did, and there was little time for anything else in their lives.

  Still, in the moon light, with a soft smile on her lips, Carolyn looked like a woman with enormous heart. She looked like a woman he could love.

  Inwardly he scoffed at the very absurdity of his thoughts. Apparently the moon light was addling his brain. Love, indeed. He didn't even know if he liked Carolyn Baker. Hell, he didn't know the real Carolyn Baker. He only knew this facade, the pretend woman named Carol Cook.

  He sighed in relief as his house came into view. He needed to get out of the moon light, before his crazy thoughts went any further.

  As soon as they were inside, chaos reigned as Beau and Carolyn worked together to get the boys into their pajamas. The kids fought back, flailing their legs and whining fitfully. "They're definitely overtired," Beau said, finishing with Brent and placing the cranky child in his crib. He moved over to help Carolyn with Trent.

  "He's a slippery little worm," she said as Trent tried to crawl away from her, his diaper half on, half off. Beau captured him and placed him where Carolyn could finish dressing him. When she was finished she placed him in his crib, where he pulled himself up to a standing position and stared at Beau and Carolyn with accusing eyes.

  "Go to sleep, baby," Carolyn said, trying to lay him down, but he popped back up again like a jack-in-the-box.

  "They might need to cry them selves to sleep," Beau said.

  Carolyn turned to look at him in shock. "Cry themselves to sleep? We can't let them do that."

  "Why not? It doesn't hurt them. In fact, it's good for their lungs."

  "I don't care. That's heartless." She leaned back
over Trent's crib and stroked his little face softly. Although there were no tears, Trent continued a fitful, fussy crying.

  Beau touched Carolyn on the shoulder. Seeing her so maternal did strange things to his heart, and he suddenly wanted her out of the room, away from the kids. "You can go on to bed if you want. I'll tell them a story and sit in here until they fall asleep."

  "I don't mind sitting up with them," she protested.

  "I realize that, but one of us needs to be rested in case they awaken later in the night. You go on to bed and I'll take care of them now."

  She looked at him hesitantly. "You won't just let them cry them selves to sleep?"

  "I promise I'll sit in here until they go to sleep." With a final kiss to each of the boys' foreheads, Carolyn left the room. A moment later he heard the soft click of her bedroom door being closed.

  He sank down in the rocking chair between the two cribs, his thoughts still on Carolyn. She was probably taking off that pretty dress now, and pulling on the sexy blue nightgown. She'd stand in front of the dresser mirror and unclasp the barrette at the nape of her neck, allowing her hair to fall to her shoulders. He closed his eyes, imagining her brushing her hair, the nightgown slipping to expose a silky shoulder.

  A fire ignited inside him, a fire that burned deep in his veins as his imagination tormented him with visions of her.

  He could see himself sliding the nightgown from her shoulders as he kissed the smooth, sweet skin of her neck. His palm tingled with the illusion of cupping her breast, tracing down the slender lines of her stomach, seeking the heat of her—

  "Ouch!" Beau grabbed his forehead, then looked down at the floor where a plastic rattle now lay at his feet. Trent laughed and bounced up and down.

  "Did you throw that?" Beau grinned at the little boy. "I think you have a future as a pitcher." He rubbed his forehead once again, grateful for the interruption of his previous thoughts. He needed a rattle upside the head to keep erotic thoughts of Carolyn at bay.

  "How about a story?" Beau rocked in the chair, the familiar low creak filling the room. "Once upon a time…" he began.