Triple Trouble (11 page)

On the sofa beside her, Nick settled back with a lapful of pictures. He thumbed through a stack of snapshots, paused to squint more closely at one, then tossed them into the reject pile atop the coffee table. Pretty soon the stack teetered and began to slide, glossy photos slithering across the oak table.

“Damn.” He grabbed the pile and stood. Rufus lifted his head from his paws and eyed him expectantly. “I’ll get an empty box to hold these. Otherwise they’ll be all over the floor.”

The big dog padded after him as he left the room.

Charlene continued to sort through the jumbled photos on her lap until she reached a colored snapshot of three teenage boys taken on a beach. Behind them, the ocean was bright blue. A younger Nick had an arm slung around the shoulder of one of the other boys, a surfboard lying on the sand beside him. His hair was shaggy, much longer than his current spiky cut, and his lean body was bronzed, white surf shorts hanging low on his hips.

Charlene studied the picture, her lips curving in a smile.

I bet you broke hearts in high school.

Reluctantly, she shuffled the photo to the bottom of her stack and continued to search for Amy’s sister. Several photos later, she stopped abruptly. In what was clearly a professional studio portrait, a baby smiled out of the simple frame. A thatch of black hair and dark eyes, combined with the wide grin were inescapably Nick’s features.

She trailed her fingertips over the photo, tracing the curve of his smile. Nick had been a darling baby and she couldn’t help but wonder what his own children would look like. Would they inherit his charming smile and thick-lashed dark eyes?

What if she and Nick had children—would they be born with her thick auburn mane or with his black hair? And which gene would dominate to create their eye color, his dark brown or her own green?

With a start, Charlene realized she needed to get a grip. Nick Fortune isn’t interested in having babies with you, she told herself, determinedly slipping the baby photo to the back of the stack. She continued to methodically scan the pictures, searching for Amy’s sister while consciously refusing to allow herself to linger over the snapshots of Nick.

By the time he returned and held out a nearly empty carton, she’d finished searching through her stack of pictures and gathered them up, dropping them into the box. With Nick’s entries, they made a formidable pile.

“So, how did you happen to buy a house this big?” Charlene asked, desperate to get her mind off her fantasies. “It seems huge for only one person.”

“It’s a lot of space,” Nick admitted, glancing around the big living room as he dropped onto the sofa once more and picked up another handful of photos. “But the previous owners had already bought another house in Dallas and were anxious to move, so I got a great deal. I needed a place to stay in Red Rock, didn’t want to rent, and this is a good investment.” He scanned the sparsely furnished room once again and frowned. “I keep thinking I should buy some more furniture. I guess I’ll get around to it sooner or later, if I decide to stay in Red Rock.”

Surprised, Charlene looked at him. “Are you thinking of moving?”

“At some point, probably, but I don’t have any definite plans.” He thumbed through a small sheaf of photos and tossed them into the reject carton. “I moved here from Los Angeles a month ago to spend time with my brother, Darr.”

“But I thought the Fortunes had settled in Red Rock for generations. In fact, I thought the family was a local institution.” Charlene tried to remember where she’d heard that, but couldn’t recall if someone had told her when she’d first arrived, or if she’d assumed it because the Fortunes were often referred to as a prominent local family. As it turned out, the three years she’d lived in Red Rock meant she’d been a resident for much longer than Nick.

“Not my branch of the family. I was born in California—grew up in a beachhouse in Malibu. My brother, Darr, moved to Red Rock a while back—then he talked me into moving here to work at the Foundation.” Nick gathered a handful of photos from the slowly diminishing pile in the storage box. “How about you? Were you born in Red Rock?”

She shook her head, her hair brushing her shoulders. “No, I lived in Amarillo all my life until college.”

“What brought you here?”

“A job offer after I graduated.” Charlene didn’t want to tell him the move hadn’t been her decision. She would have preferred to begin her postcollegiate life in Amarillo. Barry had been the one who chose to accept a job offer in Red Rock, and she’d reluctantly agreed when he’d asked her to move here too.

“When we met on the plane, were you moving back to Amarillo to be closer to your mother?” Nick said.

“Something like that,” Charlene replied, not wanting to go into an explanation of her breakup with Barry. “But then she told me she’d met Lloyd and he’d moved in with her—I knew I needed a change of plans.”

“And thank God you did.” Nick eyed her across the width of leather sofa cushion that separated them. “I’m sorry your original plan didn’t work out, but if it had, you wouldn’t be here. And I don’t know what I’d do with the triplets without you.”

Sincerity rang in his words and a warm glow of satisfaction filled Charlene. “Thanks, Nick. It’s always nice to be appreciated.”

“Are you planning to go back to Amarillo after I turn the triplets over to Lana and her husband?”

Nick’s question wiped the smile from her face.

“I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I suppose so.” She realized she truly hadn’t given a thought to what she’d do after the triplets no longer needed her. Once their aunt took custody, Nick would return to being a bachelor. He certainly wouldn’t employ a nanny. She wouldn’t have a reason to see him again.

She frowned at the photos in her hand. Why did the prospect of not seeing Nick on a regular basis bother her so much? She barely knew him. In fact…She mentally counted the days since they’d shared an airline flight. Was it really less than a week?

How could she have become so attached to Nick and the triplets in such a short time?

Granted, it had been an intensive few days, but still…

She looked sideways through her lashes at Nick. He was frowning down at a photo with fierce concentration.

“Did you find something?” she asked.

“Maybe.” He leaned across the sofa toward her, his forefinger pointing out a woman in the snapshot. “Amy sent this in a card at Thanksgiving last year. See the girl standing with Lana?”

Charlene bent over the picture, eyes narrowing as she focused. The tangle of jungle was a backdrop for several rough huts surrounding a white wooden building. A woman easily recognizable as Lana stood on the porch steps, her arm around a pregnant young native girl. They both smiled happily into the camera.

“Who is she?”

Nick flipped the photo over but there was only a date—November 15th—scribbled on the back. “Damn. Amy didn’t write details.” He turned the photo faceup. “I remember talking to Stan and Amy around Thanksgiving, though. Lana had called from Africa and told them she and her husband were thinking of leaving their jobs to take over a privately owned center. Lana wanted to establish a clinic for women and provide prenatal care. Amy asked me if I’d volunteer accounting and financial services for the clinic if Lana could make arrangements with the local government to back the plan. This photo was taken at the center—Amy wanted me to see an example of how young the mothers are that Lana would be helping.” He frowned and ran his hand over his hair, rumpling it, as he tried to remember. “I never heard whether Lana and her husband went through with the plan, but since they’ve dropped out of sight, maybe they did.”

“But why wouldn’t they have told Amy and Stan where they were going?”

“Stan said Amy hoped her sister wouldn’t follow through with the idea because the center was in an isolated area. Maybe there isn’t Internet service there—or phones.” He looked grim. “Or maybe something happened to them.”

“Don’t even think it.” Charlene fervently hoped nothing had happened to Lana and her husband. The possibility that the triplets might have lost their only remaining blood relative was too awful to even consider. “Is there anything in the photo that might tell you where the private clinic is located?”

They both bent over the snapshot.

“The sign above the porch overhang…I can’t read it, can you?” Charlene asked, trying to decipher the faded lettering painted on the rough siding.

“Only a couple of letters. Not enough to know what the word is.” Nick studied the photo intently before he gave up. “I’ll take it to the office with me tomorrow and ask a friend in the Foundation’s publicity department to take a look at it. He has a computer program that scans and enlarges without losing detail. Maybe he can identify the rest of the letters.”

“And maybe that will give you the name of the place Lana and her husband have relocated to.” Charlene mentally crossed her fingers that the results would be good.

“With any luck, they’re one and the same. Although there’s no way of knowing until the investigator checks it out.” Nick glanced at his watch before he stood, tucking the photo into his shirt pocket. “It’s getting late, we’d better call it a night. At least it’s Saturday tomorrow and I don’t have to go to work. Although,” he added dryly, “I doubt the triplets understand the concept of sleeping in on the weekend.”

Charlene rose too, dropping the handful of photos she hadn’t yet looked at into the first box. “Do you want to go through the rest of these?” she asked, waving at the box, its pile of photos much smaller. “Or will you wait until the investigator gets back to you about the clinic photo?”

“Might as well keep looking,” Nick replied as he stacked the boxes and carried them into the hall.

Charlene followed, snapping off the lamp as she went. Rufus padded after her, leaning his head against her thigh when she stopped at the foot of the stairs. She rubbed his ears and he closed his eyes with a low rumble, leaning more heavily against her.

The muted cry of a baby sounded from upstairs, the whimper carrying easily to the three in the hallway.

Rufus’s ears lifted and he swung his head toward the stairway.

Charlene’s fingers stilled on Rufus’s silky fur and she froze, listening intently. Almost immediately on the heels of the outcry, Willie Nelson’s gravelly voice rasped out the opening bars of “Pancho And Lefty.”

When she didn’t hear another sound from the triplets, Charlene looked across the foyer. Nick stood at the open hall closet door, just as frozen as she. The silence stretched, broken only by the lyrics from Willie. Nick’s taut body relaxed. He winked at her and his mouth curved in a heart-stopping grin.

“Looks like it worked.” He shut the closet door and strolled toward her.

“Wiring the sound system into the girls room was a brilliant idea. And making it sound-activated was even better. Do you think it will keep them asleep all night?”

she asked.

“I have no idea.” Nick shrugged. “But it’s a good sign the system came on and the girls fell back to sleep just now.” He yawned and scrubbed his hand down his face.

“I sure as hell hope it works every time they wake up. I could use the sleep—and I’m sure you could too.”

“Absolutely,” Charlene said with heartfelt conviction.

Rufus nudged her hand, his tail wagging as he rumbled.

“He needs to go out,” Nick said. “I’ll take him.” He snapped his fingers and Rufus left Charlene’s side.

“See you in the morning,” she called after him as Nick and the big dog headed toward the kitchen.

He looked over his shoulder at her, his eyes darker, unreadable. “Sleep well.”

Charlene waited until they disappeared down the hall before she climbed the stairs. I’m getting way too attached to that man.

Admitting it didn’t make the knowledge any less palatable, she realized with annoyance.

The following morning, Nick and Charlene had the girls to themselves, since Melissa didn’t work on weekends.

“Let’s walk down to the coffee shop,” Nick suggested as he lifted Jenny out of her high chair. Elbows stiff and arms straight, he dangled her in front of him while he walked to the sink.

Charlene automatically grabbed a baby wipe from the container on the counter and handed it to him. He set Jenny on the edge of the counter, holding her firmly with one hand while he applied the towelette to the oatmeal smeared over her cheeks and chin.

“I’m sure the girls would love it, but are you sure you’re up for it?” Charlene asked, eyeing him dubiously.

“Sure, why not?” he replied, concentrating on washing sticky spots off Jenny’s face as she wiggled and squirmed, protesting. Finally, he tossed the towelette in the trash, perched the now clean Jenny on his hip and looked at Charlene. “What? You don’t think I can survive taking them on a twenty-minute walk?”

Clearly, he’d read her expression and knew she had reservations about his ability to endure an outing with the three babies. “Have you got earplugs and tranquilizer pills in your pocket?”

“Very funny,” he said with amusement, the corners of his mouth curving upward.

“You obviously have no faith in me. I survived the drive from Amarillo here to Red Rock, didn’t I? I’ve won my stripes. I can handle a walk to the coffee shop.”

Charlene rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the answering smile that tugged at her lips. “All right. But remember, this was your idea.”

“We’ll take Rufus too.”

Charlene didn’t comment. A half hour later, after a search for Jackie’s blanket and a last-minute change of diaper for Jenny, they finally left the house.

“We’re a parade,” Nick commented.

He pushed the girls’ stroller and Charlene walked beside him, holding Rufus’s leash. The dog trotted beside the girls, his wagging tail whacking the stroller’s sunshield with each stride. Seated closest to him, Jessie laughed and grabbed for Rufus’s tail but missed. Tongue lolling, he veered closer and licked her face. She grimaced and chortled, pounding the stroller tray with delight.

“Rufus, stop that!” Charlene commanded.

“It’s just a little dog spit,” Nick told her. “It won’t hurt her.”

“That’s such a guy thing to say,” she said, frowning at him. “Who knows what he’s been eating in the backyard this morning.”

“Probably dirt from the rocks he chews on. A little dirt won’t hurt Jessie. In fact,”

he looked sideways at her, “I read an article on the Internet the other day that said kids today are too clean. Too many parents use antibacterial soap to keep kids from catching germs and they don’t develop antibodies when they’re little. Makes them susceptible later in life.”

Charlene was stunned. She didn’t know which was more surprising, that Nick was reading child-rearing articles online, or that he thought the girls should eat dirt.

“So you’re advocating adding dirt to the girls’ diet?”

“No, but I am saying that being licked by Rufus isn’t likely to harm Jessie. And she likes it.” He pointed at the little girl, squealing with delight when the big dog trotted close enough to enable her to grab a fistful of fur.

Rufus veered away from the stroller, leaving a handful of hair in Jessie’s closed fingers.

“Jessie, don’t eat that!” Charlene reached down and pried strands of dog fur from the baby’s fist just as Jessie was about to shove her hand into her open mouth. Nick stopped pushing the stroller, waiting while Charlene bent over Jessie and brushed away the remaining strands of brown fur that clung to her fingers.

“Okay, so I can see why we wouldn’t want her to eat dog fur,” he conceded when Charlene eyed him with exasperation. “Think she’d get fur balls?”

Charlene burst out laughing.

“I think you’re getting punch-drunk from lack of sleep,” she told him. “I know I am.”

“I noticed the girls don’t seem to be bothered,” he said as they resumed walking.

“That’s because they catnap during the day. Probably building up their strength to keep us awake at night,” Charlene added darkly. Even though she’d only gotten up once with Jessie, all of the girls had stirred several times during the night and set off the audio system. While she was thankful she hadn’t had to go into their room more than once, being wakened by the music still broke her sleep.

“Did your siblings do this when you took care of them?” he asked.

“Sometimes, but certainly not every night, and not on a regular basis,” she said.

“Usually there was a reason—like they were teething, or they had a cold, or something. But the triplets seem to wake when nothing’s wrong. Often, the one that cries first and wakes the others doesn’t even have a wet diaper.”

“Maybe all the changes they’ve gone through in the last two weeks have disturbed them to the point that they can’t get back to a normal routine.”

“Possibly.” Charlene glanced sideways at Nick. She couldn’t read his eyes, hidden behind aviator sunglasses, but his lips were set in a straight line with no hint of humor. His expression had lost its earlier amusement. “But if that’s what’s going on, they’ll find their balance,” she said with quiet reassurance. “Children are resilient.”

Rufus chose that moment to bark loudly and bound forward, dragging Charlene with him. Startled, she held on, pulling on his leash in an effort to stop him. He outmuscled her, determined to reach a cat sitting on a lawn several yards ahead. Surprised, the cat leaped into defense mode and raced to a nearby tree, clawing its way up the trunk and out onto a limb before stopping to glare down at Rufus and Charlene.

“Look at the cat’s tail,” Nick said, grinning as he stopped the stroller on the sidewalk next to Charlene, Rufus and the tree with the cat.