Twins times two!

This book made available by the Internet Archive.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Lisa Bingham is a resident of Tremonton, Utah—a rural farming community where the sounds of birds and the rustle of wheat can still be heard on hot summer evenings. She has written both historical and contemporary romances and loves spending time watching her characters grow. When she isn't writing, she spends time with her husband on his three-hundred-acre farm and teaches English at a local middle school.

Books by Lisa Bingham

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

602—NANNY JAKE

635—THE BUTLER & THE BACHELORETTE

651—THE DADDY HUNT

662—DANA AND THE CALENDAR MAN

692—THE PRINCESS & THE FROG

784—AND BABIES MAKE TEN

835—MAN BEHIND THE VOICE

887—TWINS TIMES TWO!

HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

540—WHEN NIGHT DRAWS NEAR

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Chapter One

Cara Wells paused in the doorway to the kitchen and suppressed a grin. Mere feet away her twin girls were trying to scale a makeshift ladder made of their potty stool, a package of disposable training pants, and the brass handles of the drawers. Zoe, the smaller of the two, had evidently been drafted into being "top man" in the escapade, while below her, Heidi pushed at her sister's rear end in an attempt to help her crawl onto the kitchen counter.

It wasn't hard to figure out their intended goal. Only an hour ago the twins had helped Cara make a chocolate cake. Knowing the girls would be tempted to drag their fingers through the frosting, Cara had pushed it as far back into the corner as she could. But even keeping the sweet treat out of sight hadn't been enough to dissuade them from trying to get another sampling.

"Get off the counter," Cara said, softly enough to keep from startling the girls but with enough firmness to help them realize she meant business.

Immediately three-year-old Zoe twisted to look at Cara. The little girl's cornflower-blue eyes radiated an angelic innocence that belied her proximity to the cake.

"C'mon Zoe. Get the cake," Heidi urged, obviously not dissuaded by Cara's appearance.

"Down," Cara said again.

"We needa piece a cake," Heidi announced.

"That's for when we go on a picnic with Polly tomorrow afternoon." Cara's reminder had little effect so she added, "Tomorrow."

"No!" Heidi insisted, still pushing Zoe's rear and causing her sister to scrabble for a handhold on the slippery Formica. "We needa piece a cake now!"

Cara had to fight to keep from laughing. A part of her wanted to cave in and let them have the cake. In the six months since the state had given her legal guardianship of the children, it had been such a joy to watch them experiencing so many firsts. Each day was a conquest for them in some small way—from potty training to riding a tricycle. They took such joy from the simple things, and they'd taught Cara to look more closely at the simple beauties of the world around them. Cara liked

the way they turned their faces toward the morning sun and ate ice cream with the exuberance of a gourmand.

But she also knew that it was important to set limits. Despite everything the children had been through, she couldn't spoil them rotten. After all, there was Harvard to look forward to—or perhaps a seat on the Supreme Court. If either venue proved to be part of their futures, it wouldn't do for Cara to ruin their manners in their first few months under her care.

"Can we p'ease hav'a piece?" Heidi asked, but the stamp of her foot belied the civility of her request.

"No. Now help Zoe get down."

"But, we wanna—"

Cara held up a finger in warning, and Heidi stopped her tirade in midsentence knowing already that to argue would mean a stint of "time-out" in the bedroom.

Fortunately, before Heidi could decide it might be worth the risk to press her luck, Cara was distracted by the sharp bleep of the phone. A quick glance at the ID box informed her that Polly Town-send was calling from one of the business's cell phones. Polly was a fellow partner of the Mom Squad—a mother-for-hire service that Cara and

three other friends had organized less than three years earlier.

"No cake," she said again firmly, then grasped the receiver. If Polly was calling this late, there was a snag in the schedule for the evening.

It never ceased to amaze her how busy the Mom Squad was kept—especially in the evenings. Originally each of the founding partners had been searching for a way to earn a little extra money. They had never dreamed that the enterprise would bloom into a full-scale business with more requests for service than any of them could handle on their own.

"Hold on a second," Cara said into the phone. Then she looked at the twins and pointed a finger at the floor. "Down. Right now." Cara purposely used the no-nonsense tone that preceded a session of time-out, with the twins isolated in two different rooms. As usual, the thought of being separated— even for two minutes—was enough to dissuade the twins from disturbing the cake. Reluctantly Heidi stepped aside so that Cara could scoop Zoe from the counter and shoo her in the direction of the playroom.

Finally she was able to devote her attention to Polly. "Hi, Polly. What's up?"

Cara had already finished the payroll checks and stacked them neatly on the counter in preparation

for delivering them to the office the following morning, so she doubted the call had anything to do with her duties as the Mom Squad's CPA.

"Melba Wilson's daughter just called, and Melba has been taken to the hospital with an apparent appendicitis attack. They're rushing her into surgery now."

"My gosh, will she be okay?"

"The surgery is fairly routine, but naturally everyone's a little worried."

"We should send someone to be with her daughter."

"I've already taken care of that. I've got Sharon on her way to the hospital now. She'll keep us posted throughout the evening and see about ordering some flowers from the hospital gift shop. Our immediate problem lies in the fact that Melba had a tending job tonight. I guess she was more concerned about canceling than she was about being hospitalized. We're stretched awfully thin. I'd go myself, but I have two job interviews to conduct later, and I haven't been able to contact the applicants. I wondered if you'd be available. You could drop the twins off at the office. They can entertain themselves in the day care room here while I do the interviews, then I'll bring them back to your place and watch them until you get back."

Accustomed to filling in for such emergencies,

Cara pulled a pad of paper closer. "Give me the address and the time I need to be there."

Polly's sigh of relief was audible. As Cara copied the information, she knew that getting to the address located on the eastern bench would be tight, but if she took a few of the back roads...

Within fifteen minutes Cara was on her way. The twins were strapped into their car seats, a bag filled with extra training pants and snacks nestled on the floor beside them. Polly was waiting for her in the parking lot of the Mom Squad offices, and it took only another few minutes to transfer the twins into her care—most of that time spent in the twins insisting on offering her numerous farewell hugs and kisses.

As she drove away and watched the girls wave to her until she turned the corner, she felt an all-too-familiar lump of emotion wedge at the base of her throat.

Zoe and Heidi had brought her so much joy— so much joy in the midst of tragedy. When Cara's brother and sister-in-law had been killed in an auto accident a year ago, Cara had received guardianship of the fraternal twins. She'd become a mother overnight, not an easy task considering the confusion and grief that all of them had suffered after the accident. But they were doing better now. Life had begun to develop a steady routine, and the an-

guish wasn't quite so strong, coming in sharp jabs from time to time rather than the ever-present waves.

Cara had the children to thank for that. Little Heidi, with her long blond hair and indigo eyes, was the ringleader of the pair. She could dream up more ways to get into trouble than Cara could anticipate. Zoe, on the other hand, was quiet, eager to please and a quick learner—facts that often escalated Heidi's plans for adventure. But with her carrot-colored curls and cornflower-blue eyes, she often affected an expression of angelic innocence that belied her mischievous nature.

Cara sighed, knowing that the twins had brought her more happiness than she had ever thought possible. She'd already begun formal proceedings to adopt the children—the idea having been suggested in her brother's will. Yet, if anyone had asked her only a year before if she would ever consider motherhood, she probably would have told them no. With a nasty divorce behind her, she'd been so sure she would spend the rest of her life alone. Funny the way fate could shuffle the deck and deal a hand a person had never anticipated.

Retrieving the paper with the address from her bag, Cara checked the numbers against those on the nearest street sign. She was getting close.

Making a right-hand turn, she resisted the impulse to gawk at the houses on either side of the winding road. She had entered the newer building section high on the Wasatch Bench, located to the east of Salt Lake City proper, an area reserved for homes the size of hotels. The area all but screamed of wealth and privilege.

According to Polly, their client was a lawyer. And judging by the real estate surrounding his home, he was a wildly successful one at that. Cara doubted that her yearly earnings could even pay for a building lot in the area.

In the gathering dusk, she caught a glimpse of a pair of wrought-iron gates tipped with brass. The numbers corresponded to those she'd scrawled on her planner.

"Bingo," she whispered under her breath, rolling to a stop in front of the security monitor and pressing the call button. Within seconds her summons was answered by a baritone, "Yes?"

"Hello, Mr.—" she glanced at her paper "—Mr. Gifford. I'm Cara Wells from the Mom Squad. I believe you were notified that I would be coming to watch your children tonight rather than Melba Wilson."

There was a soft, nearly imperceptible whirring sound from behind a small glass screen, and Cara resisted the urge to mug for the camera that had

probably been focused on her. Ahh, the drawbacks of wealth. Constant security and the constant threat of risk. Cara would take concerned neighbors, dead bolts and peepholes on her doors over high-tech electronic surveillance equipment any day.

"Will you hold your ID up to the camera please."

Evidently Mr. Gifford was even more paranoid than most, she thought as she retrieved her wallet from her purse and held it up to the lens of the camera. She didn't think many would-be thieves or kidnappers would be riding around town in such a conspicuous van. Banking on the fact that a company car would help promote some free advertising, the Mom Squad had a small fleet of pink and blue vans complete with huge plastic booties attached to the roofs.