“I, Tamara Cohen Chandler, being of sound mind…”

Alex Chandler sat, numbed to the last ritual accompanying his wife’s death. The presence of other family members in the wood-paneled law office receded to the back of his mind. He heard traffic outside the building bustling down Alhambra Boulevard, but the Sacramento rush hour seemed a thousand miles away.

“It is my dearest wish that my husband, Alexander Chandler, and my beloved half sister, Dena Cohen Randolph, cease the animosity between them.”

To Alex’s right, he could see Dena Randolph vainly brush at several dog hairs marring the sleeve of her black jacket. Alex tried to repress his disdain. Why couldn’t the woman ever make herself presentable?

He’d tried to hide his dislike for his sister-in-law from Tamara. Evidently he’d failed.

“I request that Dena act as surrogate mother and carry to term one of my embryos, fertilized by Alexander Chandler.”

“What?” Shock cracked Alex’s leaden wall of grief.

Dena jerked upright, as though zapped with a live cattle prod. “As if I don’t have enough problems already,” she murmured.

Alex reluctantly sympathized. With four-year-old twins and their disappearing father, Dena’s plate was full.

Her green eyes widened with bewilderment. “Did you know this was coming, Alex?”

He shook his head. “Tamara changed her will shortly after she was diagnosed. At the time, I didn’t know what she did, and I didn’t care. I was focused on her chemo, hoping she’d recover.” Alex frowned. He’d worshiped his wife, but knew that sweet, well-meaning Tamara had also been manipulative and very, very smart. What on earth had she planned? Why?

“Well, I…I can’t.” Dena placed a hand on her stomach, as if caressing an imaginary pregnancy. “I know Tamara wanted a baby, but…I just can’t bear a child and then walk away. Not even for Tami. Maybe you can find someone else, Alex.”

He breathed deeply, striving for calmness in the face of sudden chaos. He’d do anything to make his wife’s dreams a reality, however distasteful Dena Randolph might be. Why didn’t she feel the same commitment to Tamara’s memory?

“Further,” the attorney continued, “I bequeath my one-half ownership of said embryos to Dena Randolph with the specific instruction that only Dena be implanted with them.”

Dena went white, pale cheeks contrasting with her Titian-red hair. Alex couldn’t blame her. He felt faint himself. What had Tamara done? She’d snared them both. Now he and Dena owned the precious embryos.

“For medical costs, Dena’s support during the pregnancy, and for the support of the baby, I hereby provide the sum of three hundred thousand dollars, to be managed by Alexander Chandler.”

Dena blinked. Then blinked again, trying to reconnect with reality. Interiors by Tamara, her sister’s business, must have been lucrative. But Dena’s world revolved around her kids, not money.

She’d opened her mouth to turn it down flat when the attorney said, “In addition, I hereby bequeath the sum of two hundred thousand dollars to be held by Dena for the benefit of Miriam and Jackson Randolph, my beloved niece and nephew.”

Dena sagged in her chair. Tamara had known Dena would dig ditches with her teeth for her children, if necessary. But she wouldn’t have to, not with this generous bequest. The funds would pay for cars and college, maybe even help buy them homes, luxuries her small landscaping business could never support.

Tamara had adored the kids, so no strings were attached to the trust. But Dena’s conscience wouldn’t let her rest if she didn’t ponder her sister’s last request. How could she repay such generosity with a refusal to grant Tami’s dying wish?

Could she resist the money, which would provide so much for her sweet darlings?

Dena sucked in a deep breath, then peeked at Alex Chandler. With every blond hair in place, he sat rigidly, as if a poker had been shoved up his…

Yes, she could resist. Dena didn’t want Alex, the android accountant, in her life. Eyeing him, she hesitated. “I won’t have to sleep with you, will I?” She’d rather snuggle with a cyborg.

A glimmer of a smile twitched Alex’s set lips. “I don’t think so. Our fertilized embryos are stored at her gynecologist’s office. He defrosts them, implants a couple, and away we go.” He gestured, exposing a perfectly starched French cuff secured by onyx links.

Dena dropped her head into her hands, digging her fingers through her hair. “I can’t believe it. What if one of us says no?”

“No baby, and Tamara loses her lifelong dream.”

“Oh, no,” Dena moaned. Tears burned behind lids already swollen from crying. She fumbled for a tissue. “Oh, Tami. Why me?”

Alex flicked imaginary lint from his immaculate, pinstriped sleeve. Not a shred of emotion showed on his too-handsome face. “You’re her half sister and, in her opinion, a great mother. She remarked often that she admired how easily you carried the twins.”

“That’s true. It was pretty easy, considering everything.” Considering that Dena had been dumped by her cheating ex-husband, for whom Lamaze was something a mouse ran through to get cheese. She winced. “But another child? I have my hands full already.”

“It wouldn’t be your child, Dena, but mine. Tamara trusted you to carry our baby to term and then give him up for me to raise.” Alex’s blue eyes gleamed, vivid and intense.

“I’m not a—a brood mare. I don’t know if I can have a child and give it up.” Dena couldn’t keep a tremble out of her voice.

“You have to,” Alex said. “This was your sister’s last wish. How can you say no?”

Six months later

On a chilly, bright March day, Alex sat in his attorney’s office, waiting for Dena Randolph. She was late—as usual. If Tamara hadn’t selected her half sister as their surrogate mother, Alex would have found someone more punctual.

Alex sipped stale coffee and tried to squelch his irritation. Had Dena shown up on time, the meeting would have concluded during his lunch hour. More than anything else, Alex wanted to go back to his office, bury himself in his work and forget how much he still missed Tamara.

Attorney Gary Kagan passed a sheaf of papers across his desk to Alex. “You can review the contract while we wait for Ms. Randolph.”

Alex skimmed the closely typed pages. He’d wanted a contract so Dena would understand her place in the scheme of things. Dena, interfering and bossy, had off-beat ideas about child-rearing.

And her kids…Alex grimaced. He loved his niece and nephew, but the four-year-olds always seemed to be sticky, dirty, lost or in trouble. They were hardly poster children for Dena’s parenting style.

Alex flipped through the pages. He saw everything he’d requested: the clauses stating what Dena had to do during the pregnancy, and what she couldn’t do after the baby was born—namely, have unsupervised contact with his child or control over it. Gary had taken several months to draft what looked like a complex document.

“What happens if she doesn’t sign it?” Alex asked.

Gary shrugged. “Both of you own the embryos, see? If she doesn’t sign it, you don’t cooperate. If you don’t cooperate, no baby, and Tamara’s dream dies right here.”

Alex frowned. “That’s rather blunt.”

“That’s life. Let me tell you—”

A loud pop interrupted Gary.

Alex’s body involuntarily jerked. “Hey, are there gangbangers around here?” he asked his attorney.

“Only at night.”

The chug of an overtaxed engine vibrated through the window. Alex cautiously scrambled over to the glass, then peeked through the pane.

Peering past a clipped hedge, he could see a battered yellow pickup, with fanciful vines and flowers painted on it in vivid rainbow colors. Dena’s Gardens was stenciled in purple on the door. Dena’s pickup backfired again as she reversed into a nearby parking space. Black smoke billowed from the muffler. Alex wondered if the pickup complied with California’s strict antismog laws. Probably not, knowing Dena.

He raised his brows. “Guess who.”

Gary joined Alex at the window. “She really ought to replace that old clunker pretty soon.”

“She’d better. I won’t have the mother of my child riding around in that piece of junk. It looks dangerous.”

The door of the truck squealed as Dena opened it. Hinges need oil or something, Alex thought. He kept some in the trunk of his car. He’d take care of that squeak before she left.

Alex watched Dena climb down from the cab of the truck. Her faded jeans had dirt ground into the knees. She wore heavy work boots. He winced.

Dena strode toward the building that housed the office of Alex’s attorney. The grind and clatter of her work boots on the pavement echoed her tripping heart.

She’d have this baby for her sister’s sake, but she wanted to avoid involvement with Alex Chandler. Unfortunately, the two goals were incompatible, thrusting her into a messy situation for at least nine months. More, actually, since after the baby’s birth, she couldn’t evade responsibility for the child and didn’t plan to try. She’d become an auntie, and in her mind, that implied a bond of love and trust that would tie everyone together…including Alex.

Dena sighed inwardly and wondered, for the umpteenth time, why her clever, talented sister had married Alex. Sure, he was good-looking, if you liked the icy, Nordic type. But Tamara, who’d been more beautiful than any Miss America, could have chosen anyone in the world for her mate.

Why Alex, the chilly Chandler? Lately he’d become even more remote, responding to phone calls curtly, if at all. Certain that he suffered over Tamara’s passing, Dena hadn’t pushed him out of his protective shell.

Dena yanked open the glass door of the brick-fronted building a little too hard. It whacked against a wall, but she ignored the bang in favor of her roiling thoughts.

What kind of a parent would Alex be? Unnerved, Dena stopped short in the middle of the carpeted lobby. She didn’t want her baby niece or nephew growing up into a Popsicle person like Alex.

She better make sure this kid had all the love every child deserved.

Dena straightened her shoulders, firmed her resolve and marched into Gary Kagan’s office. She forced a smile onto her face to disguise the determination in her heart.

When Dena entered, Alex, already irritated due to her lateness, couldn’t behave cordially to her no matter how hard he tried. Her messy red mop, carelessly pinned at the top of her head in a knot, had started to fall down. Tendrils of her hair framed her face in a manner Alex knew some men might find sexy, sensual. But not Alex. Dena Randolph wasn’t his type. She’d never be his type. Ever.

“Alex, Mr. Kagan,” she greeted them, sounding a little breathless.

“Gary, please.” His attorney puffed out his thin chest.

She gave him a dazzling, Rita Hayworth smile. “Gary.”

Was it Alex’s imagination, or did she add a sultry slur to the name? He hoped not. The mother of his child would have no business running around with other men. Alex expected Dena to live a quiet, safe life while she carried his baby.

He cleared his throat. “Good afternoon, Dena.”

“Hiya.” She plopped into a plush green chair in front of Gary’s desk and picked up the contract. “So, is this the dastardly document?”

Gary laughed, and Dena winked at him. Alex didn’t like her come-hither look. Hopefully his child wouldn’t flirt. If the baby was a girl, he’d keep her at home until she was thirty.

“I hope you don’t find it dastardly.” Gary resumed his seat behind the desk.

“So it’s an amiable agreement instead.” She grinned.

“We think it’s quite reasonable.” Alex sat in a chair next to hers, then immediately regretted his action. She didn’t smell like a person who’d labored that morning, but like a woman. A very sensual woman, with a fresh, flowery scent.

He sat back in his chair, hoping to escape her fragrant aura. He didn’t want to enjoy Dena’s aroma, her aura, or her anything. She was his wife’s sister. Her half sister, but still…Dena? Attractive? No. Never.

Raising an eyebrow, she flipped through the pages. She didn’t appear to read it at all. “Is this the usual kind of contract for this situation?”

“There really isn’t a usual kind of contract for this. Surrogate motherhood isn’t that common. There aren’t many standard contracts. Believe me, I looked.” Gary fiddled with a pen. “I drafted one from scratch.”

“Termination of all parental rights,” Dena read aloud. “What’s that?”

“In essence, Alex will raise the child and be financially responsible for him or her.” Gary nodded at Alex.

Alex tensed. The clause meant much more than that. If Dena signed, she’d be giving up the baby.

“That goes without saying.” Dena sighed. “I’d love more kids, but I can’t afford them.”

Alex relaxed. “If this surrogacy is successful, perhaps you will be able to manage another child. Tamara left the twins a substantial sum of money.”

Dena’s lips tightened. “This has nothing to do with money. The baby was my sister’s dying wish.”

“So it was,” Alex said in a smooth tone of voice. He wanted to soothe Dena’s unsettled feelings.

“What’s this? No unsupervised contact with the baby?” Dena glared at him, eyes glittering like shards of green glass. “Are you kidding? This is my flesh and blood we’re talking about.”

He exchanged a glance with Gary. Dena wasn’t going to be a pushover.

Alex kept his voice calm. “How many aunts have unsupervised time with nieces and nephews?”

“Plenty. Tamara often took my kids to the zoo and to the park, remember? I wasn’t there to supervise. ” Sarcasm sharpened her voice.

Alex sighed. Dena was right. Tamara had adored Jack and Miri. The twins had been a big part of her desire for children of her own.

“Besides, you’ll want me to help with the baby.”

Alex tried not to look superior. “I doubt that.”

She lost the angry sparkle in her eyes. “So you think you know it all, huh, Alex?” She started to laugh.

“I’m sure I can raise my child without your assistance. You handle two, don’t you? Why can’t I take care of one?”

Her giggles continuing, she groped in her pocket and pulled out a tissue. “Oh, no problem. You’ll have no problem at all. I’m sure you can raise this kid all by yourself. After all, you did so well with the twins.” She dabbed at the tears of laughter leaking from the corners of her eyes, visibly trying to control her mirth.

Alex felt himself reddening.

Gary looked interested. “What about the twins?”

“One time when Alex and Tamara took my son and daughter to Land Park, Tamara took Miriam to Fairy Tale Town and Alex had responsibility for Jack. When Alex wasn’t paying attention—”

“He sneaked out of the men’s room. I was…indisposed. And it was just for a few seconds! It could have happened to anyone.”

Dena grinned. “Jack found his way to the Land Park zoo and tried to climb onto the chimps’ cage. All the zookeepers said he was very charming. Apparently he entertained a large crowd of people, giving the chimps screeching lessons.”

Alex glowered. “My child won’t be like that.” Especially if I keep you away.

“Of course not.” Dena’s tone was patronizing. “Your baby will be a perfect paragon of all the virtues under your wise guidance.”

Gary laughed. Alex glared at his attorney, who was supposed to be on his side.

“And what about breast-feeding?” Dena asked.

“Breast-feeding?” Alex had never in his life given any thought to the subject. Breast-feeding. He stared at Dena’s chest. He envisioned his baby sucking from one of her breasts, which were now snugly clad in a worn yellow T-shirt with the purple Dena’s Gardens logo on the front.

He’d never checked out Dena’s breasts, but they were high, round breasts, perky and, well, touchable. They’d fit nicely in his hands.

He didn’t want this fantasy. Adjusting his trousers, he pushed the image away, quick. Hot, he inserted a finger into his too-tight collar and tugged it away from his throat.

“I won’t breast-feed with an audience.” Dena folded her arms across her chest. “Makes me nervous. If I’m nervous, it affects the flow. You want your baby to breast-feed, right? That’s very important.”

“She’s right. Breast-feeding is very important.” Gary gawked at Dena, hunger clear in his eyes.

Alex drew in a breath, then let it out slowly, trying to slow his galloping pulse. “Okay, you’re right. Cross it out.”

“Thank you.” With an air of triumph, Dena plucked the pen from Gary’s fingers and scribbled out the offending clause. She dropped the pen back onto the desk.

Struggling to ignore Alex’s disturbing presence, Dena lowered her gaze to the contract. From the first day they’d met, he’d ruffled her nerves, with his disapproving attitude and disparaging comments. She resolved not to let him get to her.

But that would be hard, very hard. Alex was a handsome man, if a little cold. But his recent experiences had cracked his corporate-clone shell, letting an appealing vulnerability show through. His blue eyes held a new maturity—

Cut this out, Dena! He’s not for you!

Alex waited, anxious, as Dena continued to read. She rested her chin on her palm. The light caught her cheekbone, emphasizing its elegant curve. So like Tamara’s. He gulped.

Tamara had been a slight sylph of a woman, a petite blonde with dainty features and hair like moonbeams. Tall, voluptuous Dena had always struck Alex as a larger, rougher version of his refined wife.

Now he found himself seeing Dena in a new way. The shape of her face. The tilt of her shimmering green eyes. In fact—

“Alex, this is very interesting.” Dena raised a confused gaze from the contract. “You want to be my La-maze partner?”

“Of course. Who else?”

“Mom went with me for the twins.”

“Where was Steve?” Alex asked before he remembered Dena’s husband had left her when he discovered she was pregnant with twins. Alex would rather have bitten off his tongue than remind Dena of that dark period in her life. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m over it.” She shot him a breezy, careless smile. “I’m just surprised at you, that’s all.”

“Don’t be. Dena, this baby means a lot to me. I’ll be by your side every moment. You won’t have to worry about anything.”

“A supportive man. What a novel concept.” She picked up the pen and signed at the bottom of the last page. “Okay, we’re done. I’m gonna go eat. I have a short lunch break before I have to get to another job.”

“We would have been finished sooner if you’d arrived on time,” Alex said. “And you would have had enough time to read the whole contract.”

“I’ve read enough.” She stood, turned to the door and zipped out.

Alex looked at Gary, whose mouth was open.

The attorney closed his lips with an audible snap.

“What came over her?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” Alex left the office to follow Dena, who was halfway to her truck. He couldn’t help noticing the way her worn jeans clasped her fit, firm bottom. Stop it, Alex!

He shoved her derriere out of his thoughts before he caught up with her in the parking lot. “What’s going on? I thought you were going to work over that contract with a fine-toothed comb.”

“So did I.” Dena unlocked the door of her truck.

“Wait right there.” Alex trotted to his car, opened the trunk and removed his tool kit. Finding some solvent in a spray can, he returned to Dena, who now sat inside her pickup.

“Turn your head.” Alex sprayed the hinges. He wanted the mother of his child in perfect health before the embryo was implanted, so he used his free hand as a screen to keep the vapor away from Dena’s nostrils.

He accidentally touched her cheek with his palm. Startled, he jerked away. “Sorry,” he mumbled, shaken. Though she worked outside, her skin wasn’t roughened by the sky and wind. Instead, she felt satin smooth, petal soft.

Again, he inhaled her scent. He ignored it.

Dena lurched back into the seat, her full lips pale and set. “Did I get some in your eyes? I tried not to.” He capped the oil container.

“It’s okay.” But she still looked teary.

“So why did you sign the contract?”

Dena squirmed in her seat. “B-because I trust you.”

He stared at her for several seconds before he remembered to smile. Dena Randolph had complimented him. Must be a historic occasion. As far as he knew, she’d never said anything nice about him. He was aware she called him Android Accountant Alex, the Corporate Clone. “Are you feeling all right?”

She gave a shaky laugh. “Not really. I’m hungry. I need to eat before my next job, and you probably want to go back to work.”

“Yeah, well, yeah.” He was completely tongue-tied. Alex hadn’t known that contact with Dena Randolph could cause loss of his voice and his sanity.

As she drove away, he stood in the parking lot watching the retreating tailgate of her truck. He remained motionless long after it had disappeared from view.

He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand either her bitterness or her surprise at his conduct. A supportive man. What a novel concept. Her sour attitude didn’t make sense. Tamara had described a happy childhood. Neither of his mother-in-law’s husbands had left, they’d died. Dena hadn’t come from a broken home.

If she’d truly gotten over Steve’s desertion, why the cynicism?

Scratch a cynic and there’s an idealist whose heart’s been broken. Where had Alex heard that before?

Today, Dena had revealed depths he hadn’t known existed. What strange new relationship would he and Dena forge?

Alex shook his head to clear his mind of all stray thoughts. None of this mattered. Only the baby mattered, but he knew that Dena’s emotions would affect his unborn child’s development.

His task was clear. He’d protect Dena and keep her happy, despite his mixed feelings about the woman.

And she was absolutely not going to get to him. Alex sucked in a deep breath, remembering the sweep of Dena’s red hair over her flushed cheeks, her voluptuous breasts pressing against her T-shirt, and her backside in those tight, faded jeans. He couldn’t repress his groan.

He had lustful thoughts about his dead wife’s sister. What was wrong with him?

Clutching the steering wheel, Dena turned out of the parking lot and onto Alhambra Boulevard. He’d gotten to her. Android Alex had managed to slip under her skin and make her cry.

Like a chigger.

Dena remembered Steve’s reaction when they’d learned she was pregnant. He’d been…startled, then accepting. But he’d chafed under the changes she made in their lives. She socialized less and slept more. She quit making caffeinated coffee in the mornings and didn’t serve wine or beer. She’d asked him to smoke his cigarettes outside.

He’d rebelled against the idea of assisting her with the birth, chuckling that he never could stand the sight of blood. So going with her to Lamaze was out.

When he’d seen on the ultrasound screen two hearts beating in her womb, he’d fallen silent. She’d been excited and assumed that his reaction meant that he was too stunned with joy to speak.

Less than a month later, her husband—the man with whom she’d made a lifelong commitment—was gone, after cheating on her with every willing woman in the neighborhood. A geologist, Steve had dumped his boring government job to chase his dreams of wealth in the Saudi Arabian oil fields.

He’d discarded his family the way a snake sheds its skin. He hadn’t contested the divorce. Occasionally he sent support checks. He wrote or phoned the twins even more rarely.

Steve Randolph had never met his children.

Dena stopped at a light and rested her forehead on the steering wheel. Waves of anger swept through her, leaving her shaky. Try as she might, she couldn’t suppress the rage that always engulfed her when she thought about Steve. This doesn’t help, she told herself. She’d never move forward with her life if she couldn’t find peace in her own soul with Steve and his betrayals.

She threw Steve out of her mind. He was the past. He didn’t matter anymore.

When the light changed to green, Dena accelerated through the intersection.

And now Alex Chandler wanted to be her Lamaze partner. Deeply touched by the promise he made to stay by her side when the baby came, she felt she had to sign the contract.

But now she had regrets. Had she acted too hastily?

She supposed she should be grateful for his caring attitude, but she didn’t trust him, and the habit of independence from men had become deeply ingrained.

If Alex was going to be her Lamaze coach, that meant he’d be present when she gave birth. That he wanted to be there hadn’t occurred to her. She didn’t want such intimacy with Alex Chandler. She didn’t like it. It made her feel…invaded, intruded upon.

On the other hand, she’d agreed to bear his child. Few acts were more intimate. But the surrogacy made a mockery of intimacy, didn’t it? The baby would be Tamara’s, not hers.

Dena shook her head. She didn’t want to get close to Alex in any way. He was her sister’s husband. Intimacy would seem just plain weird.

She remembered the touch of his hand on her cheek, which had been the first time a man had touched her for years. The gentle stroke had felt warm and tingly. Good. Too good.

She reminded herself that the caress had been accidental, and his concern for her based on the fact that she’d be the vessel for his child.

They’d never liked each other and probably never would.

In some strange way, driving Tamara’s sleek, silver Jag made Alex feel closer to her. Yet even this fuzzy-warm nostalgia for Tami couldn’t mask his nervousness at the thought of seeing Dena again. He fingered the bundle of papers on the leather seat as he turned onto Fair Oaks Boulevard, fighting rush-hour traffic all the way.

Dena hadn’t taken a copy of the surrogacy contract with her when she abruptly left Gary’s office. Although a secretary could have mailed it, Alex liked having an excuse to drop by. He needed to visit Dena. He wanted to keep tabs on the woman who would carry his child.

Why had Tamara selected her half sister? Alex tapped the steering wheel with exasperated fingers. Would matters be easier with a stranger? Perhaps, but Dena was an honest person who wouldn’t break her word. She’d give up the baby to him when the time came, so Alex could devote himself to his and Tamara’s child.

He made a right turn onto Shadownook. At the end of the tree-lined cul-de-sac stood the old house that the Randolphs had bought when they discovered Dena’s pregnancy. Set back from the shallow curb, the rambling two-story home looked as though it had been designed for a houseful of kids. The open garage held her old clunker of a truck. Nearby, gardening tools hung on the wall in neat rows.

When Alex parked at the end of the driveway, he could see the twins’ tree house nestled on a low branch of one of the huge old oaks rimming the property. Raised-bed gardens, clothed in new spring leaves, dotted the wide lawn. Kneeling, Dena dug in one, intent upon some unknown task.

He could see Jack and Miri playing on the lawn with Dena’s golden retriever. Smiles lit the twins’ grubby faces. Their dark hair stood up in spikes; the knees of their pants were torn and dirty.

Alex opened the Jag’s door. Now he could hear the kids at play. The twins’ raucous shouts changed to squeals of delight.

“Unka Alex! Unka Alex!” Oblivious to his charcoal-gray three-piece suit, Miri hugged him around the knees. She left smears of mud on his slacks.

Alex repressed a wince, knowing that the suit could be cleaned, but a child’s broken heart might never mend. He picked up the little girl, allowing her to give him a big kiss, sticky with some mysterious snack she’d eaten. All the Cohens—even the Cohen-Randolph kids—were very touchy-feely, unlike the Chandlers. Alex hoped to achieve a happy medium with his child.

“Uncle Alex!” Jack hollered, his little legs pumping as he raced toward Alex. “Mom! Uncle Alex is here!”

Alex walked toward Dena, still carrying Miri. Jack trailed behind.

“Hello, Dena.”

She looked up. Knee-deep in the loamy bed, which was half-planted with strawberry seedlings, Dena epitomized the perfect gardener. Wearing a battered straw hat, knee pads strapped around her coveralls, and sturdy gloves to protect her hands, Dena was dressed to kill…weeds.

She swiped a stray red hair off her face, leaving a streak of dirt on one high cheekbone. “Hi, Alex.”

“Mommy, can Unka Alex stay for dinner?” Miri asked. “You said we have to love him more now that Auntie Tami’s gone.”

Smiling, Dena met Alex’s clear blue gaze. “Of course Uncle Alex can have dinner with us, if he wants.”

Alex felt his neck flush. So they’d discussed him. Not surprising. The Cohens were chatty as well as touchy-feely. Embarrassed but pleased, he said, “I’d like to stay if it doesn’t inconvenience you. There are a few things I want to go over later.”

“Yay! Uncle Alex, Uncle Alex!” Jack tried to climb up Alex to join Miri.

“Jack, don’t grab at Uncle Alex’s belt. He’ll pick you up when he’s ready.”

Miriam smirked.

“Miri, stop that. Both of you, go play catch with the dog. Goldie!” Dena’s high, sharp whistle sliced through Alex’s eardrums.

Dena’s golden retriever trotted up, two tennis balls clutched in her jaw. Goldie’s tail waved and she rubbed against Alex, leaving a load of her blond hairs on his pants. She looked at his face with adoring brown eyes.

Alex put down Miriam. “Miri, get a ball from Goldie and go play.” He didn’t want dog spit all over his hands.

The twins scampered away with the dog. “Alex, could you keep an eye on them?” Dena asked. “After I get the rest of the strawberry sets planted, I need to shower and make dinner.”

“Oh, sure.”

“If you want to stay out of the firing line, you can sit on the porch.” Dena nodded at the screened veranda circling her weathered, redwood home.

While the kids romped with Goldie, Alex took his briefcase and the contract from the Jag, then retreated to the enclosed porch. He settled himself on a rattan couch upholstered in a flower print. Dividing his attention between Dena and the twins, he flipped through the Wall Street Journal.

Dena soon finished and went into the house. She emerged a few minutes later with two beers in hand. She plopped down next to Alex on the couch, offering him a bottle.

“When can you go to the doctor’s office for the implant procedure?” Alex gave her the copy of the surrogacy contract she’d left in Gary’s office.

She dropped it onto the couch between them. A symbol of their divisions, he thought.

But she sat close enough to touch. “When do you want this baby born?”

He caught her scent, something flowery. To cover his unease at her nearness, he took a swig of his beer. “I never thought about it. Does it make a difference?”

“It may be an old wives’ tale, but a lot of people think that children born in the spring and summer have a better chance at life.” Dena twisted off the cap from her bottle.

“In what ways?”

“Higher birth weight, lower infant mortality, that sort of thing.” She sipped her beer.

Alex winced at the thought of infant mortality. How could Dena sound so casual? “But we’d have to wait until August to have a baby born in May. That’s five months away.” Besides, he didn’t want to base anything about his baby on rumors or myths. He preferred research. “I think we should start right away. The first implant might not take.”

“You mean I might have to do this procedure more than once?” Dena set her bottle onto the floor next to her feet.

Alex faltered. “I’m afraid so. Remember what happened with Tamara? We could never get an embryo to stay.”

Dena’s soft, full lips tightened. “I’m sorry you and Tamara had to go through that. We can start whenever you’re ready. Just give me enough notice so I can reschedule my jobs and find child care for the twins.”

“Can Irina watch the twins? I’d volunteer, but I’d like to be nearby.”

“Hmm. If you want Mom to baby-sit you have to check with her. Obviously she’s my first choice, but we have to work around her catering jobs and her production schedule. The director won’t allow the twins on the set.”

Dena’s mother, caterer Irina Cohen, starred in a cable television show, Irina Cooks! It had made Ashkenazi Jewish cuisine wildly popular in the Sacramento area. “Why not?” Alex asked.

“You didn’t hear? Oh, this happened when you took Tamara to that cancer place back east.”

“Sloan-Kettering.” The treatments there had left Tami sick and bald. Alex swallowed down the painful memories with a gulp of brew.

“Yeah. Mom took the kids to the set one day, sure everyone would love her adorable grandchildren.”

“They really are cute.” Messy, but cute. Alex watched Jack tease Goldie with a tennis ball. Far from seeming offended, the retriever wagged her tail and barked, jumping up and down. She chased Jack around the side of the house.

“Anyway, Miri got into the food. She was in her meal-wearing phase, when everything went into her hair or on her chest.”

“She must have been quite a sight.” Alex knew that his child would never do any such thing.

Dena continued, “You know how much Jack likes to climb? He got onto one of the gaffer’s booms.” Picking up her bottle, she stood and stretched. The movement lifted her breasts inside her snug T-shirt. “Well, I’m gonna hit the shower. See ya in a while.”

The door slammed behind her as she went into the house.

Alex picked up the newspaper, but the discussion of mutual fund investments in high-tech security systems couldn’t hold his interest.

Unwittingly, his thoughts strayed to Dena. He imagined her ascending the stairs, entering her bedroom and stripping off her dirty clothes, exposing her strong body and round breasts. They’d rise higher when she unclipped her long, wavy hair.

He yanked his mind back to a columnist’s analysis of the Fed’s recent change in interest rates. This train of thought was disrespectful to Tamara. Besides, he didn’t find Dena attractive. Did he?

She’d switch on the shower and step in, wiggling her toes with pleasure at the splash of the warm water. When she shampooed, the water would slick her hair into dark, wild whips. Foam would cascade down her curvy form, clinging to her nipples. Without inhibition, she’d toss her head when she rinsed.

Was Dena’s libido as fiery as her mane?

What was he thinking? His X-rated fantasies starring Dena shocked him. He hadn’t found anyone sexy for well over a year—hadn’t had an erotic impulse since Tamara had started chemo and grown so sick. He’d devoted himself to her healing. Then, when it became clear she wasn’t going to make it, he’d helped to ease her way out of this world into a better place.

His body’s yearning spun him into tumult. He hadn’t wanted to make love for months. And now, it was Dena Randolph who had prodded his dormant libido into life.

Dena, of all people. She didn’t turn him on, he silently argued to himself. It was just that he’d been without a woman for so very long. She happened to be nearby when the natural reawakening of his sexual urges took place.

His soul cried out for Tamara. In a way, he felt he was losing her again. Another little bit of his life with her had receded into the past.

He desperately wanted to make love again, but he could never have the woman he needed: his wife. With a sickening lurch in his stomach, he accepted that he’d never again touch her, never hold her, never bury himself deep inside her.

Never love her.

He blinked back tears. Dear God, how he missed Tami. He took out a handkerchief and rubbed his face.

Closing his eyes, he recalled one of their last conversations. She’d framed his face in her hands and, looking at him with those lovely blue eyes, said, “Alex, listen to me. After I’m gone, I want you to go on.”

He’d argued with her, telling her that she’d soon be well and they’d be happy together again.

She’d shaken her head. “No. Please don’t belittle me by hiding the facts. I know I’m dying. Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Promise me you’ll go on. Promise me you’ll have a good life, Alex. Promise me you’ll find someone to love.”

Now he leaned back and sighed. “I’m trying, Tami,” he said aloud. “But it’s so damn hard—”

A wet nose thrust into his palm, making his body jerk and his thoughts scatter. Goldie again nudged his hand, inviting him to play. Alex blinked, returning to the present.

He looked across the lawn for the twins, but Dena’s yard, dim and quiet in the waning light, held no chattering, screeching children.

Where were the twins? Jumping to his feet, Alex scanned the front yard. Guilt flooded him. How could he have been so inattentive?

He groaned. If he couldn’t watch two four-year-olds, how could he raise a baby alone? How did Dena do it? His respect for her soared.

His shoes clattering down the three wooden steps to the lawn, Alex left the veranda when he realized that he couldn’t see anything. He strode to the rear of the house. The backyard had an eastern exposure and didn’t catch any of the western sun.

“Jack! Miri!” he called.

Alex could hear the low murmur of a fountain, part of a water feature Dena had installed last summer. He walked over to make sure that neither of the kids had gone swimming. His mind refused to entertain the possibility that one had drowned.

Water chuckled over the rocks lining the pond Dena had created. A turtle raised its head, then ducked as Goldie approached. The retriever nudged Alex’s hand, then dropped a wet ball into it.

“Yuck!” Alex restrained himself from wiping his palm on his gabardine trousers. Holding the ball with only his fingertips, he tossed it for the dog.

Goldie chased it to the front of the house. Alex followed. On the way, he checked the foliage for twins.

Nothing.

He broke into a sweat despite the cool evening air. Where could they be? He checked the trees. Though Jack enjoyed climbing, they were clear. Then he spotted the twins’ tree house, a makeshift shack that a previous homeowner must have built years before the Randolphs moved in. He could see someone had improved it—Dena?—because fresh slats secured it to the big old valley oak in which it was anchored. The rope ladder that dropped from it to the lawn looked new.

Alex eyed the ladder, then his wing tips. He frowned. He didn’t want to climb up to the tree house. Although Dena had fortified it, he didn’t know if the flimsy structure could bear an adult’s weight.

“Jack? Miri!”

Silence.

But the little scamps could be hiding. He’d bet money that, on some days, their favorite sport was eluding Uncle Alex.

With a resigned sigh, Alex set his right foot into one of the lower rungs of the ladder, then skipped two as he climbed. After a few steps, he could peek into the twins’ lair.

Empty.

He turned to descend as a voice came from the screened porch. “Alex?”

His foot slipped.

“Alex, what on earth—”

His other foot tangled in the ropes, and he fell to the soft, cold grass at the bottom of the tree. Embarrassed but unhurt, he took a moment to mourn his charcoal-gray suit. He feared it had taken too much abuse to survive. No doubt it was a goner.

He raised his head. Light from inside the house streamed through the stained glass inserts in the front door, illuminating the March evening.

Dena, freshly bathed and clad in a pink chenille bathrobe, stood on the porch. He could see her wet hair in a twist at the crown of her head, with a damp curl sticking to her cheek.

The twins, in a similar clean condition, stared at him. Dena carried Miri, who wore a red robe. Jack, clad in green sweats, had climbed onto a table, presumably to get a better view of Uncle Alex making a fool of himself.

He didn’t want to admit that he’d been searching high and low for the twins. They’d obviously gone inside for their baths while he’d been lost in an erotic fantasy about their mother.

Goldie ambled over to Alex, stuck her nose into his face and chuffed in a friendly way. He caught the odor of kibble. She licked him.

Alex knelt, then stood. The seat and knees of his trousers felt damp. Probably grass-stained, as well. The elbows of his jacket were trashed. The dog had left golden hairs and saliva on his clothing.

Dena’s home, glowing in the night, beckoned him to its warmth.

Alex looked disheveled, a state in which Dena had never seen him at any time during his marriage to Tamara.

“Alex, use the little bathroom here to clean up. Dinner’s in five, okay?” Dena held the front door open for him. “Kids, help me set the table.”

If I cared about Alex, I’d be really worried about him, Dena thought as she led the twins and the dog to the kitchen. Despite herself, her heart went out to the poor guy. He’s devastated by losing Tamara. Dena knew a dose of the twins would lift his spirits. Jack and Miri could test the patience of several saints, but they were sweet children who adored Alex.

Dena had worked hard to make her kitchen a cozy, homey place. A white-tiled counter separated the work space from the breakfast nook, where her family ate most meals at a big, wood farmhouse table. The twins’ artwork decorated her refrigerator. Her daughter seemed to prefer flowers, butterflies and turtles, while Jack consistently drew houses with three-person families outside the front door. He even tried to include Goldie, though without much success.

Miri went to the low, whitewashed cupboard that housed the silverware and plates. “One, two, three.” She counted blue-and-white gingham place mats. “Four, ’cuz Unka Alex is here, huh?” She put them on the table.

“That’s right, darling.” Dena turned to the refrigerator. She removed salad makings and put them on the wooden counter next to a bowl.

As Jack clattered flatware onto the table, Alex emerged from the hall. He’d washed and taken off his jacket, loosened his tie. He’d even rolled up his starched shirtsleeves, baring tanned, brawny forearms sprinkled with tiny blond hairs. They caught the light, glittering gold.

Dena’s heartbeat quickened before she looked away, reminding herself that she had no business noticing Alex’s arms. She had a legal contract with the husband of her deceased half sister. Period.

Alex sniffed. “Something smells good. Chicken?”

“Yeah.” Dena opened the lid of her Crock-Pot, releasing a steamy, aromatic cloud. She poked the contents with a knife to make sure the fowl had cooked through.

He hovered behind her, too darn close. She scented a faint whiff of his aftershave, a fresh lime fragrance, tinctured by the grass that probably still clung to his pants. His nearness was simultaneously seductive and irritating. She didn’t enjoy being crowded, but ignored her discomfort.

Peeking over her shoulder, he said, “How long did that cook?” His breath puffed on her neck.

The little hairs at her nape prickled and lifted. With a nervous gulp, she managed to focus on his question. “I started it before I left this morning. You just put everything in and it cooks all day. It’s really easy. Do you have a Crock-Pot, Alex?” She replaced the lid.

He shook his head. “Before I met Tamara, I was the fast-food king. She cooked, but made it clear I wasn’t welcome in the kitchen.”

Dena could understand that. “Your condo’s kitchen is pretty small.” He was making her crazy, his masculine presence somehow taking up all the room in her large work space.

“Can I do anything to help?”

She tried hard to overlook his engaging smile. This is Alex, Dena. You don’t like Alex, remember? “Sure. Why don’t you take care of the salad? All you need to do is rinse the vegetables and cut them into bite-size pieces.”

“Dena, I’m not a complete moron.” Chuckling, he leaned against the counter. “I can make a salad.”

She grinned. “You said you were the fast-food king. I took you literally. When did you eat your last home-cooked meal?”

“At Irina’s after the funeral.” He tore apart a lettuce.

“That was more than six months ago, for heaven’s sake. You’re overdue. Alex, I’m sorry. We should have asked you over sooner, but—”

He stopped her with an upraised hand. “It’s all right. The time just slipped away from us. Plus, I’ve been making an effort to stay busy.”

Dena tried to suck air into her suddenly tight chest.

“Oh, God, Alex, I still miss her so much.” Shaky, she braced herself against the counter.

He moved in to hug her, and amazingly, his closeness wasn’t oppressive, but just right. “Hey, none of that,” he whispered into her ear. The small hairs at her temple shifted with his breath, tickling pleasantly. “If you start, then I’ll start, and that can’t be right for the kids.”

She hugged him back, surprised by his warmth and affection. “I know.” On the other hand, she didn’t want to give her children the wrong impression of her relationship with their uncle Alex. After gently freeing herself, she walked to the table to supervise the twins, who’d watched, big-eyed.

“Miri, get the plates,” Dena said, putting a casual note in her voice. “Jack, we’re having soup tonight, so fetch me bowls, okay?” Returning to the kitchen, she unplugged the Crock-Pot and poured off the broth that had cooked with the chicken and vegetables.

Jack walked behind Alex, carrying four bowls to Dena.

“Good job, Jack.” She stroked his dark, silky hair. “You did that with both hands. That was smart.”

“What are you doing now?” Alex asked. The man was as curious as several cats. Opening a package of peeled baby carrots, he added half to the salad.

“Serving the soup. The twins like theirs lukewarm, though getting Miriam to eat it rather than bathe in it is always a chore.” Dena scrutinized her daughter. Miriam now sat at her place at the table, hands folded, doing a “perfect child” imitation.

Dena knew better. Giving Miri a hard stare, Dena set bowls of soup at each place.

“Can I pretend that it’s Japanese soup?” Jack asked. He stood on a chair to peer into his mother’s face.

She looked into her son’s round brown eyes, so like Steve’s, but his open expression belonged only to Jack.

“I want you to try to use the spoon rather than pick up the bowl, okay?” Dena ruffled his hair, then checked the table, moving a couple of misplaced forks to their proper locations. “Sit down, please.”

Alex chopped a tomato. “How soon is dinner? I’m ravenous.”

“I bet, especially since you haven’t had a decent meal for a long time. Did you also quit running?” Dena tried to check out the bod under Alex’s fitted vest, shirt and trousers. He looked as though he was still in pretty good shape, despite his unhealthy diet. Wide shoulders tapering to slim hips and tight buns. Yum.

What was she thinking? She returned her attention on her children, where it belonged.

“Um, well, I’ve been concentrating on my work lately. I should probably start to jog again.” He put the salad bowl on the table and sat in one of the empty chairs.

“That’s Mommy’s place,” the twins chorused.

“Sit there.” Miriam pointed an imperious finger.

Alex obeyed.

Dena drew in a breath. Unwittingly, Miriam had seated Alex at the head of the table, the spot Steve had occupied. Alex looked great in her husband’s place, as though he belonged in it.

Dena swallowed. “Work. Right. Are you using work to, um, escape?”

He picked up his plate, examining it. “Kind of. You know, I like this Beatrix Potter china.”

Dena noticed he’d quickly changed the subject.

“You gave it to us, Unka Alex. When we was three.” Miri tapped her spoon against her plate.

“Were three,” Alex said.

“Were three,” Miriam repeated obediently. She must have liked the ringing noise, because she whacked harder.

Dena took the spoon away. “No.”

Miri pushed out her lower lip.

“Miri, you’ll get the spoon back if you eat your soup like a good girl.”

The lip retracted. “Okay, Mommy.”

Finding Miri unusually cooperative, Dena eyed her daughter with suspicion. Was her baby girl coming down with something? Dena felt Miri’s forehead. She seemed fine. Maybe she was on her best behavior for Alex. If so, “Unka Alex” would be asked for dinner more often. Dena beamed at Alex.

Alex smiled back, unexpectedly cheered. Dinner proceeded without either twin swimming in the soup or even getting messy. Alex found himself both surprised and impressed by Dena’s parenting skills. He’d been reading about the subject because he didn’t want to repeat the mistakes of his mother and father. He could tell that Dena did many things right. Maybe it wasn’t her fault that the twins occasionally acted up.

His thoughts strayed to Dena’s ex. Steve, whom Alex had considered a nice guy, had shocked everyone when he disappeared into the Arabian desert. How could he have left his family? Alex looked around the table at three happy faces. He’d wanted this all his life.

Miriam stabbed a carrot with her fork and held it up to the light. “Carrot,” she solemnly told her mother.

“That’s right, Miri. Tell Uncle Alex about the carrots you grew, honey.”

Miriam turned to him. “We grew carrots, Unka Alex. In preschool.”

Alex said, “Were they nice carrots?”

“No.” Miri shook her head in a decisive motion. “They was freaked.”

“They were forked. ” Dena’s girlish giggle blended with her daughter’s. “Do you remember why?”

“Mommy said the ground had rocks. The carrots grew around the rocks. They went weird.”

Jack thrust out his little chest. “My cokes was perfect.”

“Your cokes?” Alex was mystified.

“Cukes,” Dena said. “Miriam, are you going to eat those carrots?”

Miriam, who’d been toying with her food, dropped her fork with a clatter and a guilty expression. “No,” she said, sounding firm.

Alex wondered what Dena would do. Forbid dessert? Force Miriam to stay at the table until all her food was gone? He prepared to mentally take notes.

“Umm. Maybe I’ll eat your carrots, then.” Dena reached for Miriam’s plate.

Miri frantically waved her hands. “My carrots!”

“Maybe Jack wants some more carrots.” Dena looked at her son’s dinner. “He’s finished all of his.”

“No no no no no!” Dragging her plate closer to her, Miriam enthusiastically crunched a carrot.

“Nice job, Dena.” Alex swallowed a bite of the delicious chicken.

She winked at him, then put a finger to her lush lips in a hushing motion.

Was her sassy wink deliberately flirtatious?

No. It couldn’t be. Alex decided he was dreaming.

“I’m done, Mommy.” Jack took his plate over to the sink and carefully pushed it onto the counter, several inches higher than his head.

“Thank you, Jackson. You may go pick a book.” Dena glanced at Miriam.

“I’m done, too. See?” Miriam pointed.

Using her fork, Dena flipped a lettuce leaf away from a corner of Miriam’s plate. Beneath it hid a piece of chicken.

“Have you had enough to eat?”

“Uh-huh.” Miriam batted green eyes, very like Dena’s. She had Steve’s dark hair combined with her mother’s eyes and skin. One day, she’d break hearts. Did Dena break hearts? “I want to go now.”

Alex saw a frown crease Dena’s face. “Well, you had enough chicken and salad, and you drank your soup without making a mess. Okay, you can go. I’ll be in soon to help you brush your teeth.”

Miri left, and Alex asked, “Will they be all right wandering around unsupervised?”

Dena laughed. “They don’t generally get into much trouble inside the house. This place is child-proofed, and their routine is to look at books quietly after supper.” She adjusted the opening of her robe over the upper curves of her breasts.

The pink chenille robe warmly hugged her generous body. He bet Dena was a cozy, snuggly handful. He looked away. “Miriam didn’t eat all her food.” He hoped he didn’t sound critical, especially since he and Dena seemed to be getting along so well…as long as he didn’t ogle her. “Is that all right?”

“Yeah, it’s okay. I probably gave her too much.” She didn’t appear to be offended. “They eat what they need. They’re healthy. Eating lightly once or twice won’t hurt them.”

Alex picked up their now-empty plates and took them to the sink. “Can I wash up?” He figured that if he was a good guest, he’d be invited back. He wouldn’t dwell on his earlier risqué fantasies. They were an aberration, nothing more.

“Oh, just stack them in the dishwasher. I’ll turn it on later. Want to help me tuck them in?”

“Don’t they have to brush their teeth?”

“First we brush teeth, then they’re tucked in, then we read a book they choose. You take Jack, I’ll do Miri.” Dena left the kitchen.

“All right.” Alex decided the experience would be good practice for later, when he raised his own baby. His heart bounced at the thought.

“Just remember to be firm. They’ll play games and test you all night long if you let them.”

Alex followed Dena to the living room. Jack, curled up with a picture book, sat on an overstuffed, plump couch, upholstered in dark red leather. For reasons known only to her, Miriam rolled around on the floor in front of the TV set. Rugrats occupied the TV screen.

So much for routines.

“Pick a book, Miri, it’s time for bed.” Dena tapped the toe of her bunny-shaped bedroom slipper on the gray carpet.

Miri stood and staggered around the room until she regained her footing. “I want Cat in the Hat. ”

“I have it,” Jack said.

Her little face crumpled. Tears threatened. “I want Cat!”

Here it comes, Alex thought. How would Dena rise to this challenge? He watched intently.

“Your copy is in your room. Come on, honey.” Dena gave Miriam a little push. “We’re going to brush our teeth in my bathroom. Jack, go with Alex.” She flipped off the television.

Alex guided his nephew up the stairs, with Dena and Miriam behind him. He couldn’t see Dena, but his awareness of her had increased exponentially. Her flowery, feminine scent filled his nostrils while the rustle of her robe engendered wild fantasies. What kind of nightgown did Dena wear under that cozy pink chenille? Did white lace or black satin cling to her curvy body?

Every one of Alex’s muscles vibrated with a peculiarly sexual tension, new, different, and definitely unwanted.

After climbing the stairs, he followed Jack to the bathroom the twins shared. Out of the corner of his eye, Alex saw Dena and Miri head to a different room, presumably to use Dena’s bathroom for Miriam’s ablutions.

He relaxed. He feared these new feelings for Dena Randolph, and didn’t want to experience them with her around.

Jack entered the bathroom and neatly placed his copy of The Cat in the Hat on the beige Formica counter. Plucking a green toothbrush from a holder shaped like Donald Duck, he held it under the water, then began to brush his teeth.

“Hold on there, buddy.” Alex picked up the toothpaste. “You forgot something.”

“Mommy said I don’t have to use that.” Jack looked up at Alex, his brown eyes wide and innocent.

Alex hesitated. Dena had some far-out ideas about child-rearing, and she’d been short of cash. Maybe Jack was telling the truth.

Dena buzzed in. “Jackson, have you brushed? Miri wants the sparkle toothpaste.”

“He brushed, but he didn’t use this yet.” Alex brandished the tube.

“Oh, he’s gotta have his fluoride.” Dena applied paste to the green brush, then shot her son a pointed stare. “Don’t try to scam Uncle Alex. Don’t you want your teeth to be shiny and bright for the tooth fairy?”

Jack stared at the mirror. Leaning forward, he touched a finger to a front tooth and tried to wiggle it. “Tooth fairy’s never gonna come,” he grumbled.

“The tooth fairy’s going to come in about two years, Jack. Be ready.” Dena dropped a kiss onto her son’s dark head, then winked at Alex again before she bustled out.

Alex stood, silent and stunned, as Jack brushed, his mouth foamy with sparkle toothpaste.

Dena Randolph winked at me. Twice. An unexpected warmth started in the region of Alex’s heart, then dropped like sand through a sieve, going straight to his libido.

Do not get turned on by Dena, he admonished himself.

Finishing, Jack rinsed his mouth, then tossed the brush into the sink. “Can I watch more TV? Mom lets us stay up and watch TV after we brush.”

Alex rescued the brush and inserted it into the holder. “Mom said book and bed. Now.” Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

The Cat in the Hat by Dr. Seuss in hand, he herded Jack to his room. Jack’s bedroom, the ultimate little boy’s hideout, was decorated in green-and-blue plaid. At the foot of his bed, a toy box overflowed with both twins’ treasures: baseball gloves and Barbies, Nerf balls and Nintendo.

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Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.