Adding to the Family Page 13

  It was a nice, warm evening, the sun still bright at just before seven. While Miranda worked in the kitchen, Mark took all four kids into the backyard to play.

  The family from whom he had bought the house had poured a concrete slab in one corner of the large, fenced yard to serve as a mini basketball court. They had left a metal pole behind, and Mark had installed a net at regulation height for the occasional game with visiting friends. A child-height net was set up at the other end of the concrete.

  While Madison toddled around the yard pushing a plastic toy lawnmower, Mark watched as Payton and the boys threw basketballs at the shorter goal. His eyebrows lifted when he noticed that the boys rarely missed.

  “You two are pretty good,” he said to the nearest twin.

  “We like to shoot hoops,” the boy replied. “Can we shoot at the big goal?”

  “Which one are you?” He hated having to ask, but he’d forgotten which twin wore a white T-shirt today and which wore blue. Now that Jamie had gained more confidence, the boys were almost impossible to distinguish by behavior.

  “I’m Kasey. Do you want to play with us on the big goal?”

  Curious about whether the boys could shoot that high, Mark nodded. “Sure. Why not?”

  “We can play ‘Donkey.’ We played that all the time with Mama.”

  “‘Donkey?’ I’ve never heard of that game.”

  “Like ‘Horse,’ only you spell Donkey. D-o-n-k-e-y,” Kasey explained earnestly—just in case Mark didn’t know how to spell the word, apparently. “Every time you miss the basket, you get a letter, and the first one to get a Y is the donkey and he loses.”

  Mark grinned. “Okay. That sounds easy enough.”

  Kasey pointed a warning finger at him. “Don’t let us win. Mama never let us win, and we beat her all the time.”

  “Don’t worry. I always play to win.”

  Jamie giggled. “You sound just like Aunt ’Randa.”

  “Yeah, well…um, who’s going first?”

  “I don’t wanna play,” Payton announced disgruntedly. “I can’t hit the big basket.”

  “Then you can play with Poochie and Madison for a few minutes,” Mark instructed.

  “Jamie can go first,” Kasey offered. “I’ll go second. And Mr. Wallace, you go last, ’cause you’re the oldest. And we get to stand a little closer than you do, because we’re shorter.”

  Nodding, Mark reflected that Kasey made a habit of looking out for his brother. He wondered if Kasey had been born first.

  Jamie took the ball, bounced it a couple of times, then stood at the closer line with an amusingly intense look of calculation on his face. A moment later, the ball sailed through the air and fell through the hoop.

  Jamie whooped and pumped a fist. “All right! Nothing but net.”

  “Not bad,” Mark acknowledged.

  Kasey took his place at the line, frowned exactly the way his brother had, and threw the ball. Mark found himself holding his breath when the ball circled the rim a few times, and then dropped through. Kasey did a little victory dance, high-fived his twin, then grinned at Mark. “Let’s see you beat that, Mr. Wallace.”

  “Why don’t you just call me Mark,” he suggested, taking the ball. “There’s no need to be so formal when I’m about to show you losers who rules this b-ball court.”

  Both boys grinned and hooted in derision at the challenge, and Mark could tell they were enjoying the male attention. He really was becoming quite fond of these quirky twins—which didn’t mean he was going to let them turn him into a “Donkey,” he thought as he took his place at the regulation free-throw line and shot the ball cleanly through the hoop.

  Miranda watched the game through the kitchen window. Even from there, she could tell the boys were having a great time bonding with Mark. She watched as Mark picked one of them up and dangled him, laughing and squirming, upside down.

  Though she enjoyed seeing her nephews beaming with joy, she couldn’t help wondering again what their lives would be like after she moved into a new place. They would be in day care between eight and ten hours most days—and no matter how “enhanced” the programs, it wasn’t the same as being at home. They would be living in an apartment building, not a big house with a fenced yard for safe outdoor play. And she would be the responsible adult in their lives—the scariest prospect of all, in her opinion.

  Though she worried about the twins, it was Mark her gaze lingered on as she watched the horseplay outside. He seemed to be having a great time playing with the boys. His hair was breeze-tossed, making it curl more than usual around his face. She liked those curls, though she suspected he made a deliberate effort to tame them every morning. But then, she liked everything about him, she thought, watching the muscles ripple beneath his gray T-shirt as he demonstrated a lay-up shot for the twins.

  She was beginning to worry more all the time about the extent of her growing feelings for him.

  It had always been so easy for her to walk away from any relationship that had become potentially complicated. But Mark Wallace was different from the men she had dated so casually before—something she had known from the first time she’d met him. Which was exactly the reason she had been so resistant to getting involved with him. And why she was still so determined to keep her feelings for him under control.

  Observing him chase the boys around the yard in a laughing game of keep-away with the basketball, she knew she had better move out soon, before things got out of hand between them.

  She wanted to go out and play with them. Because she could so easily picture herself out there laughing with Mark and the children, she made herself turn away from the window.

  This wasn’t where she belonged, she reminded herself. It wouldn’t be fair to any of them to pretend otherwise.

  They had just gotten all four kids bathed and sent off to bed when the doorbell rang at just after nine.

  “That will be Steve,” Mark said, meeting Miranda in the hallway outside the twins’ bedroom. “I’ll let him in. We’ll be in the kitchen when you’re ready to join us.”

  Though Miranda had known his friend would be stopping by this evening, she seemed a bit surprised by his choice of venue for the meeting. “The kitchen?”

  He smiled and nodded. “Steve always arrives hungry. I’ll serve him coffee and some of that pecan pie Mrs. McSwaim made today.”

  “Okay. I’ll be right down.” She moved toward her bedroom.

  “Don’t forget the letter from your sister. He’ll need to see that.”

  Miranda nodded and disappeared into the bedroom, while Mark hurried down to usher his attorney friend, Steve Petty, into the house.

  “Nice of you to come, Steve.”

  His tall, almost painfully thin attorney friend shrugged, his smile lighting his typically somber, dark-chocolate-hued face. “You know I still owe you plenty of favors after what you did for my parents last year.”

  “Would you quit that? You paid me for straightening out their books.”

  “I still think you undercharged us. Dad had those books in such a mess that they’d have lost everything if you hadn’t helped them.”

  “They’re doing okay now?”

  “Dad’s doing as well as can be expected. Selling the store took a lot of pressure off. He was able to hide his condition for a long time, because he made all the decisions for the store without consulting anyone. But at least we were able to step in before he had to declare bankruptcy. They made a little profit on the sale, and they got to keep their house, so it all worked out all right.”

  There was sadness in Steve’s voice, which Mark knew was due to his father’s gradual slide into the mental ravages of Alzheimer’s, but there was also relief that total financial disaster had been averted.

  Sensing a change of subject was in order, Mark asked, “How does a serving of Mrs. McSwaim’s homemade pecan pie sound?”

  “Like a little slice of heaven,” Steve replied promptly. “Especially if you’ve got some vanilla ice cre
am to go on top of it.”

  “It just so happens you’re in luck. And I made a fresh pot of coffee to go with it. Decaf, since it’s so late. Miranda’s going to join us in the kitchen.”

  “So,” Steve said, taking a seat at the kitchen table while Mark pulled dessert plates out of a cabinet. “Tell me about this friend of yours. Is she pretty?”

  “You can judge that for yourself.”

  “I’d rather know what you think.”

  Mark closed the freezer door. “Yes, she’s pretty.”

  “Oh?”

  “And she’s a friend. Nothing more,” he added, anticipating the next question.

  “Your idea, or hers?”

  “Just eat your pie.” Mark thumped the plate holding a generous serving of pie à la mode in front of his friend and turned to fill a cup of coffee to go with it.

  Steve had just swallowed the first bite, murmuring his appreciation, when Miranda came in carrying a bulging manila envelope. A gentleman to the toes of his polished shoes, thanks to a mother who had drilled old-fashioned Southern manners into him, Steve rose to his feet.

  “Don’t get up.” Miranda gave him one of her golden-bright smiles and motioned for him to sit back down. “You must be Mark’s friend, Steve Petty. I’m Miranda Martin.”

  Steve sent Mark a look that wasn’t hard to interpret. Steve was obviously thinking that Mark had been holding out when he had described Miranda as merely “pretty.” “It’s very nice to meet you, Ms. Martin.”

  “Please call me Miranda.”

  “As long as you’ll call me Steve.”

  Wryly aware that his friend was rapidly succumbing to Miranda’s charm, Mark placed a slice of pie and a cup of coffee in front of Miranda without bothering to ask if she wanted any. He already knew she had a sweet tooth, despite her willowy figure.

  He would have left them alone but she had asked him to sit in when he’d told her that Steve had agreed to stop by tonight. She wanted him to ask any questions she might overlook, she had explained.

  But it turned out that Mark had very little to contribute during the meeting. Miranda was well prepared, providing all the documentation Steve requested and asking plenty of questions on her own. By the time the consultation ended, Miranda and Steve were getting along like old pals, and Mark was feeling more than a little superfluous.

  Miranda really was quite capable of handling her own affairs. He knew she appreciated what he’d done for her, but she would have gotten by just fine on her own, one way or another. Despite her occasional attack of nerves, she knew it, too.

  He saw her gaining confidence with the boys with every passing day. No surprise, since they were so easy to care for, at least at this stage. Tomorrow she would probably find an apartment, and after that, she would be on her own again. He supposed he should be pleased for her.

  He wished he could say he was.

  “I like your friend,” she told him after Steve left.

  “He’s one of the good guys,” Mark agreed. “He handled my divorce a couple of years ago, but I’ve known him even longer. About five years now, I guess.”

  “Is he married?”

  “No. He’s involved in a serious relationship, though. I wouldn’t be surprised if they announce an engagement soon. Er…why do you ask?”

  “Just curious. Well…good night, Mark.”

  “You’re turning in so early? It’s barely ten.”

  “I think I’ll read awhile before I turn in. Maybe watch the news to see what the weather’s going to be like tomorrow. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “All right. Good night.” He watched somewhat wistfully as she turned and headed up the stairs.

  He knew what she was doing. Trying to avoid being alone with him again. Wise move, of course—which didn’t mean he had to like it.

  He knew there was a chance they’d have ended up kissing again had she stayed. He knew he looked at Miranda with the same hunger Steve had displayed for Mrs. McSwaim’s pecan pie. And he knew that what he wanted from Miranda involved a lot more than a few kisses.

  Following that line of thought was dangerous. He knew it—but he spent plenty of time doing it, anyway.

  He reminded himself that his girls’ interests came first. Letting them get too accustomed to having Miranda and the boys around, would be totally irresponsible of him. Payton and Madison had already loved and lost one woman who saw them as unwanted encumbrances. He wouldn’t let that happen again.

  Now if only he could believe that it was not too late to prevent himself from falling completely under Miranda’s spell.

  Saturday morning did not have an auspicious beginning. Madison woke up cranky. She whined all the way through breakfast, clinging to her father and fussing whenever he tried to set her down.

  Mark offered to stay home to entertain her, but Mrs. McSwaim insisted that he accompany Miranda on the apartment-hunting excursion.

  “I can take care of Maddie,” she assured him. “You go help Ms. Martin. You know how those people take advantage of a young woman on her own. They won’t try to pull anything if she has you there to back her up.”

  Miranda was not at all pleased by the implication that she needed a man to make sure she didn’t fall for a hard sell. She reminded herself that Mrs. McSwaim was of another generation, when women had been trained to think of men as their protectors.

  The older woman persuaded Mark to go with Miranda, even though she tried to convince him that she was perfectly capable of going alone.

  “I’m sure you have no need of my help at all,” he replied somewhat wryly. “But I would still like to come with you, if you don’t mind having me tag along.”

  It would have seemed rude to turn him down, especially when Mrs. McSwaim was standing there beaming with such satisfaction. Miranda managed a strained smile and assured him that she would be glad for the company.

  “I want to go! I want to go!” Payton jumped up and down in entreaty.

  “Not this time,” her father replied. “I’ll take you somewhere later.”

  Payton sulked. “But I want to go now.”

  “Don’t give me trouble over this,” Mark warned her. “Stay here and help Mrs. McSwaim with Madison. No arguing.”

  Payton looked as though she would have liked to risk a debate, anyway, but something in her father’s voice must have let her know he wasn’t in the mood to tolerate a tantrum. Her lip remained firmly in pout position, but she kept quiet.

  Kasey tugged at the hem of Miranda’s shirt. “Can we go? We want to see where we’re going to live.”

  She could understand his point, but she suspected that letting the twins go when Payton had been turned down would cause a scene. “You’d better stay here this time. Mark and I will scout out some places, and if I find one, I’ll take you to see it, okay?”

  For just a moment, Miranda thought Kasey was going to argue, which would have surprised her. Jamie gave his twin a frown, and Kasey subsided into a pout that rather resembled Payton’s.

  Maybe they’d had a bit too much of each other lately, she thought.

  After two hours of driving from one apartment complex to another, Miranda thought she’d had a bit too much of Mark. He found something wrong with every place they visited. This one was on a street with too much traffic. That one had no good place for the boys to play. Another had a drainage problem in the parking lot.

  Miranda sighed in frustration when they left the fourth complex—which he said was too small for a family of three. “I can’t afford a fancy town house, Mark. I’m going to have to settle on someplace eventually.”

  “There are dozens of apartment complexes in the Little Rock area,” he replied without concern. “You’ll find the right place if you’re patient and discriminating.”

  “You are aware that, while I’ll certainly take your advice under consideration, the final decision of where I’m going to live is mine?”

  “Of course. I’m just trying to make myself useful by pointing out problems you
might overlook if you’re in too much of a hurry.”

  Glancing away from the road ahead for a moment, she gave him a sideways glance. His expression looked innocent enough, but she still wasn’t convinced he wanted to help her find an apartment today. It seemed to her that he would have been anxious for her to move out of his house, so he could get his life back to normal again. But that wasn’t the way he was acting.

  He watched as she turned right at a busy intersection. “Where are you going now?”

  “I need to stop by my apartment for a minute while we’re here in the neighborhood. I left some files there that I need for Monday. It will just take me a few minutes to check the mail and my phone messages and get what I need.”

  “Take as long as you want. It didn’t take much time to check out the apartments we’ve seen so far today.”

  Thanks to him hurrying her through them as if she’d had a deadline to meet, Miranda thought. “Maybe we’ll have time to look at a couple more places on my list today.”

  “Sure, why not?” He sounded agreeable, if not exactly eager.

  Reminding herself that he was the one who had been so determined to accompany her on this outing, she parked in front of her old apartment and turned off the engine. Before she could ask if he wanted to come inside with her, he had his seat belt off and the car door open.

  Chapter Twelve

  Miranda checked her mail on the way to her apartment, pulling out the bills and catalogs that had accumulated since she’d stopped by two days earlier. With Mark right behind her, she unlocked the door of her apartment—hers for another few weeks, anyway—and stepped inside.

  The apartment already had the slightly musty smell of vacancy, she noted with a tinge of sadness. She had enjoyed living here. Too bad there wasn’t a suitable apartment in the same complex for her and the boys.

  Motioning for Mark to have a seat on the sofa, she punched the play button on her answering machine. Apparently word had gotten out—thanks to Brandi—that Miranda’s social life would be severely curtailed for the foreseeable future. There were only a couple of messages, both inviting her to parties, both from people who didn’t know Brandi. Normally the recorder would have been nearly full after two days, Miranda reflected with another wave of nostalgia for her old, carefree life.