Taking on Twins (7 page)

The woman behind the counter held up the picture Patsy had provided. “How much to dress like this guy and run a few ‘errands' for this lady?”

Stu studied the picture. “Two hundred a day, plus expenses.”

“Oh. Okay.” Patsy gestured for Stu to join her away from the desk area. Digging through her wallet, she extracted four crisp fifty-dollar bills. “You get this now, and two hundred more when the job is done.”

“How will I find you?”

“I'll find you.” Patsy extracted a file from her satchel. “This is what you need to do.”

Stu flipped it open and scanned the contents. “You need me to go to this insurance agency, Grimbles of L.A., and take out an insurance policy on some guy named Joe Colton for a million bucks?”

“Yes. And when you sign the policy, you need to make it look like this.” She held up a sample of Jackson's signature. “The policy is small enough that this company
won't do any checking at all.” She cackled. “After all, if they're willing to insure Jennifer Lopez's tush for ten million, I can't imagine that this is going to be a problem.”

“Not for me.” Stu stuffed the two hundred dollars in his pants pocket and took the file from Patsy. Digging into his shirt pocket, he withdrew a business card. “My cell phone. I should be done by tomorrow afternoon. Call me and we'll make arrangements to meet. I'll give you the paperwork, you give me the cash. Deal?”

Patsy slipped on her dark glasses and prepared to leave. “Deal.”

“M
ama?”

“Hmm?”

“How did you know when you had forever love for Daddy?”

MaryPat Summers looked up from the magazine she was browsing through and regarded her daughter curiously. “Forever love?”

“You know.” Annie gave her hand an impatient flapping. “More than just plain-old-love love. I'm talking about the kind of love that you have when you know, deep in your heart, that that person is your soul mate and that you will love him forever. And you couldn't live without him, and…you know.”

“Hmm. Well,” MaryPat placed the magazine on her stomach and folded her hands over the top. “I can only speak for myself, of course, but when it came to your father, the way I knew that I was in love with him was—”
she paused to chuckle “—whenever he was in the room, I couldn't breathe.”

Annie turned from the hallway mirror, where she'd been studying her reflection and stared at her mother. “You couldn't breathe? Mama, that sounds deadly.”

“No, no. I don't mean I couldn't breathe at all, I just mean it was hard to breathe. Don't know why. Just happened. Even after we were married, once in a while I'd look at your sweet daddy and…well, he always cut such a handsome figure of a man, don't you know, with all that wild red curly hair and that ruddy complexion and rugged body and that deep, deep voice.” She sighed. “Ah, me. I still have a bit of a problem catching my breath, just thinking about him.”

“So that's all the logic you needed to determine that he was the one?”

“It's all I needed, sweetheart. Some things simply cannot be based on logic, but must instead be based on how well one is able to breathe.”

Annie quirked a brow and went back to fussing over her appearance.

MaryPat pursed her lips. “Your interest in forever love wouldn't have anything to do with Wyatt Russell's sudden appearance, would it?”

“Mama, don't be ridiculous.”

MaryPat harrumphed.

Outside on her quiet lane, the sound of an engine approached and then slowed and idled, directly in front of her house. MaryPat twisted around on the couch and after a brief wrestling match with the drapes, peered out the living room window and watched as Wyatt parked his rental car at the curb.

“He's here.”

“Mama! Stop spying,” Annie chided. Nervously, she
fastened the clasp to her necklace and glanced in the hall mirror one last time at her hateful hair.

“I can't help it. I just wonder what he's up to.” MaryPat let the blinds snap shut as she turned to her daughter. “After all these years, here he is again, out of the blue and after what he did to you I don't like it. Not one bit. I just don't trust him.”

Scrunching, smashing, tugging, Annie fiddled with her bun. It was lopsided. How perfect. “Mama, I'm already wiggy enough, without you jumping on the bandwagon. Let's just give him the benefit of the doubt, okay?”

“Hmfp.”

The doorbell rang and the two women froze in a tableau of nerves.

“It's him.” The neighbors next door could no doubt hear MaryPat's stage whisper.

“I know.”

“Do you want me to get it?”

“Yes. No. I don't know.”

“Well, we can't leave him standing out there all night. Or can we? That might be funny.” MaryPat's turkey gobble of a giggle warbled into the room.

Annie sighed. “No. We can't leave him standing there. I'll get it.” She stood frozen. “How do I look?”

“Beautiful. Prettier than that girl on
Will and Grace.
”

“Mama, please.”

“Well, you do!”

Annie smoothed her hands over her khaki skirt and fussed with her stretchy top. “Is this thing okay? This style is kind of tight. I don't know. I certainly don't want to give him the wrong idea.”

“What idea?” MaryPat's brow knit.

“That I'm, you know, trying to look sexy or something
stupid like that. On the other hand, I don't want to look frumpy… Ohhhh. I hate my hair.”

“Honey, you look fine. If I had your skinny little waistline I'd wear that outfit myself. And your hair? Why, it's glorious! People would kill for such body and color, such—”

“Okay, Mama. Thanks.” Annie blew a kiss at her mother, then moved to the door and, upon opening it, was once more swept into the past by Wyatt's smile.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” She leaned on the door frame, steadying herself and trying to reconcile this time warp. At least she was still breathing. That much was comforting.

He cleared his throat. “Can I, uh, come in?”

She started. “Oh! Sure.”

Embarrassed, she stepped back and admitted him into her small 1930s Arts-and-Crafts cottage. Again, her mind bent to fit his perceptions of her way of life, and again, she felt defensive. A failure, compared to his fast-track-to-success lifestyle.

Her furniture was what she liked to call “shabby chic,” but was really just hand-me-downs, cleverly slipcovered. The paintings on the wall were a series of watercolors she'd done when she was pregnant with the boys, all floral pastels. Scattered pillows, books, candles and toys gave the place a homey, cluttered feel, and again, the missed cobwebs and fingerprints seemed to jump out and mock. Her life was neither polished nor organized. And, until now, that was the way she'd liked it.

“Please. Come on in,” she urged and forced the fear and reluctance from her smile. “Wyatt, you remember my mother, MaryPat Summers.”

“Yes, of course. Wonderful to see you again.” The deep
timbre of Wyatt's voice filled the living room as he came in and reached for MaryPat's hand.

MaryPat twittered. “Good to see you again, too, Wyatt.”

Annie turned her head and rolled her eyes. Try as she might to be a tough old bird, MaryPat was a pushover for a handsome face.

The pitter-patter of growing feet pounded down the stairs. Ever curious, Noah and Alex had come to investigate. “Mom?”

“Who's here, Mom?”

Immediately, they recognized Wyatt as the man from her store. As only five-year-olds can, they came boldly up to Wyatt.

“Hey. We know you,” Alex accused, his face puckered in thought.

Annie reached for her sons and drew them to her. “Boys, this is Wyatt Russell. We used to go to school together.”

“Whater you doin' here?” Noah wondered assertively.

They were suspicious. Protective. How utterly adorable. Her heart filled with fierce maternal love and pride. She may not lead a life of privilege and glamor, but she was mad about her little men. She took an instinctive step between her boys and Wyatt, shielding them from heaven only knew what.

“You here to take our mom out on a date and
kiss
her and junk?” Alex demanded from out in left field.

Annie gasped. Then again, it might be Wyatt who needed protection. The palms of her hands began to sweat. MaryPat's nervous laughter trilled. Brows raised, lips twitching, Wyatt turned his gaze upon her and she felt the tips of her ears catch fire.

“Boys,” she chided, “it's not polite to grill our guest.”

“I'm not grillin' him.” Alex snorted.

Noah guffawed. “He's not a hot dog.”

“Although some might disagree.” Though Wyatt's tone was serious, Annie could tell he was teasing.

“Are you guys gonna get married?” Alex folded his arms over his skinny chest.

“Married?”
Breathless, Annie felt as if she'd plunged into an ice-cold pool. Above the buzzing in her head, she heard MaryPat's mortified hoot fill the air.

“Sean Mercury's mom just got married to this guy that came to their house to take her out to dinner one time,” Alex explained.

“And then, they were always kissin' and junk,” Noah continued.

“Are you gonna do that?”

His amused gaze still boring into hers, Wyatt educated Annie's sons. “Your mama and I used to be friends, a long time ago. Before you guys were born. So, since I just happened to be in your neighborhood, I thought I'd drop by and take her to dinner. Then, we will either go see a movie or go get married. I'll let her pick.”

“Wyatt! Don't put any more ideas like that in their heads!”

In that infuriating way she remembered so well, Wyatt ignored her. “But our reservations aren't for another hour so there's plenty of time for her to make up her mind.”

“You're joshin' us.” Alex relaxed, warming to Wyatt's humor.

Wyatt winked. “A little, yeah.”

“Do you have time to play?”

“Sure.”

Delighted smiles creased the boy's noses, melding freckles one into the other.

“What do you want to play?” Noah looked first at Alex, then to Wyatt.

“What do you guys want to play?”

“We want to play—” Alex grabbed his brother and began to back away “—space monster!” Their giggling shrieks echoed off the ceiling as they pounded back up the stairs.

Wyatt cast a questioning glance at Annie.

She shrugged. “Don't ask me.” Being twins, they had their own play world. She was generally at a loss when dragged into one of their active games.

Complete and total chaos ensued as Wyatt set off after the boys. Growling deep in his throat, he chased them up the stairs, down the hall and into what sounded like their bedroom.

“Is this safe?” MaryPat wrung her hands and Annie knew that her mother was concerned about leaving her precious grandchildren in the hands of the man who'd broken her daughter's heart.

“I don't know, Mama. But I'm betting that with his successful career, he's got great health insurance.”

 

Mission accomplished. Time to celebrate. Patsy put the Beamer on cruise control and poured herself a drink. The best part of being ex-Senator Joe Colton's wife was the feeling that she was above the law. She lit a cigarette and issued a mirthless chuckle. Way, way above the law. Not that she knew all that much about the law, but there were plenty of people in this blasted family who did.

Take Jackson for instance.

Patsy focused on the white lines as they zipped under her car and thought about a case Jackson had once handled.

Seemed old Jackson had a roommate in college who needed Jackson to get his drug-dependent CEO father declared incompetent so that sonny-boy could take over the corporate reins. Over the years, this roommate had visited the Colton ranch a number of times, and Patsy had made
it a point to stay near enough to overhear their conversation. Apparently, there was no wrongdoing on anyone's part during the lawsuit. But still, even though Patsy wasn't sure exactly how, she knew this knowledge was going to come in handy some day. Some rainy day. Sooner than later.

With a smile, she flicked a longish ash out the car window. Yep, yep, yep. Jackson knew how to take over Colton Enterprises just in case his father, Graham, should inherit in the tragic event of his poor brother Joe's untimely death.

Yeah. Old Jackson was going to come in handy on several counts. Patsy's reedy laughter echoed in the BMW's plush interior.

 

“Do you think we should check on them?” MaryPat never could take suspense.

“No.” As she took the extra time to battle her bun with a can of hair spray and fistful of bobby pins in front of the entry hall mirror, Annie listened to the boys and a begrudging smile nudged her lips into an amused curve. “So far a whole fifteen minutes have passed and no one has cried. This is a very good sign. Let them get to know each other.”

“Why?”

“Because a little male influence isn't going to kill them.” Upstairs, the sounds of something crashing to the floor was followed by guilty silence. Annie sighed. “But I might.” She tore the pins from her hair, intending to start over on her blasted bun. With this copper, pot-scrubber hair of hers, sophistication would be forever elusive.

Moments later, Wyatt appeared on the landing, holding a broken lamp. The boys hovered behind him. “Uh, Mom?” Tone sheepish, Wyatt spoke for them all.

Giving up on her hair, Annie came to the bottom of the stairs and reached for the railing. “Yes?”

“We, uh, got a little carried away and broke this.”

“So I see.”

Alex, wearing the lamp's crumpled shade, peered through the railing from the stairs behind Wyatt. “We didn't mean to, Mom.”

“It was a accident,” Noah explained.

Wyatt awkwardly cradled the bent lamp base. “I'm really sorry. We're really sorry, aren't we, guys?” The boys nodded. “I'll buy you a new one, I promise.”

The cool wood of a turned balustrade bit into the palm of her hand as she tightened her grip. “I can afford a new lamp,” she informed him, words clipped. Then, embarrassed by her defensive tone, Annie looked away and searched for something to say that might lighten the mood.

The sudden silence was deafening. Noah and Alex looked back and forth between the adults, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern.

For once, Annie was grateful for her mother's interference.

The older woman cleared her throat. “Boys, go wash your hands. Your dinner is nearly ready.” Seemingly grateful for an escape from the tension that shimmered between her daughter and Wyatt, MaryPat turned and headed to the kitchen.

“And go change your shirts,” Annie added, noting the smudges and dust that told her the space monsters had been chased under the bed.

“Here.” Wyatt held the lamp out to Alex. “Put this back and we'll deal with it later.”

“No!” Giggling, Alex slipped his hands through Wyatt's belt and going limp, dangled. “I don't want you to go.”

Taking a cue from his brother, Noah wrapped his arms around Wyatt's leg and head flopping back, laughed. “Stay!” he shouted. “Please?”

“Please, please, please?”

Clearly flattered and tempted to stay, Wyatt looked askance at Annie, his grin in full bloom. Laugh lines, deeper now than a decade ago, forked at his eyes. Eyes that were still the tempting, guileless blue of old, and mahogany hair that showed no signs of thinning. Crumb. She'd somehow managed to forget, or block out, how very handsome he was. No doubt he had a female client list as long as his arm.