The Tycoon's Tots (8 page)

From another sack, she poured sweet feed into the bucket of oats, then mixed the whole lot with her hands.

Roy stood silently contemplating her for a moment. Of Justine and her two sisters, Chloe was the hardest one to figure. Even though she was outwardly emotional at times, Roy didn't believe she ever let anyone see the real her, the one she hid behind the tough skin she presented to the world.

“All right, Chloe. I trust your judgment. I won't bring up the matter again. Now,” he went on, glancing around the stable. “What do you need me to do?”

She waved him toward the door. “Not a thing. I've gotten nearly all the horses fed and watered. I still have to give Martin his bottle, but the way he eats, that doesn't take long. Whatever is left to do, Rose will help me with tomorrow.”

She started to heft the feed bucket off the ground, but Roy quickly grabbed it. With an appreciative smile, she
pointed to where a black filly was impatiently pawing the stall door.

After he'd hung the bucket for the horse to eat, Chloe said, “Thanks, Roy. Now if you really want to do me a favor, why don't you stop by the house and say hello to Wyatt? When I left him a couple of hours ago, one twin was asleep and the other one was yelling for food. He might need a little male encouragement.”

Roy grinned and gave her a little salute from the brim of his hat. “I'll do that. And call me if you need me.”

It was well after dark when Chloe walked back to the house. The moment she entered the kitchen, the smell of scorched food filled her nostrils.

Wyatt was nowhere in sight. She went to check the pots on the cookstove. In the largest one, she found spaghetti boiled dry and sizzling on the bottom of the pan. On the next burner was a pot of tomato sauce. Thank goodness, it still had enough liquid to simmer.

She walked out to the living room, then down the hall toward the nursery. “Wyatt?”

“In here, Chloe.” His answer was immediately followed by a loud, angry yell from Adam.

Reaching the doorway of the nursery, she saw Wyatt bending over the crib trying to catch Anna, who was crawling around the bed with only half of her diaper fastened. Adam was standing up at the railing, his face beet red as he squalled at the top of his lungs.

“Having a little trouble?” she asked with calm sweetness.

He shot her a frustrated look. “Why won't she lie still until I get her diaper on? And he,” Wyatt said, turning an irritated scowl on Adam, “has no reason to be crying. He just drained a whole bottle a few minutes ago.”

Chloe stepped into the room. “Babies do cry for reasons
other than hunger. He probably doesn't like the way you and his sister are jostling him around.”

“Well, I can't put him on the floor. He'll run off. I've already tried it. That's when Anna decided she wanted to crawl instead of get dressed.”

Deciding to take a little pity on him, she stepped up to the crib. “See if you can pacify Adam and I'll finish Anna's diaper.”

He lifted Adam out of the crib, and the two of them left the room. Chloe couldn't help but notice the boy hushed as soon as he was in Wyatt's arms.

After she'd finished with Anna's floppy diaper, she carried the little girl into the kitchen. Wyatt was over at the cookstove trying to balance Adam on his hip with one hand and stir spaghetti sauce with the other.

“The pasta is ruined,” he announced with disgust.

“I know. I already looked.”

“I suppose this never happens to Kitty.”

His tone dared her to make fun of him. Chloe was careful to keep a straight face. “Not too often. But she does have her rough moments.”

“And you? I suppose you could have handled this with one arm tied behind your back?”

It was obvious to Chloe he was a man who liked to excel at everything he did. Smiling wanly, she walked over to him. “Not really,” she admitted with a shake of her head. “And there's no need for you to beat yourself up over a pot of scorched pasta. I don't expect you to be perfect at this job.”

He cocked a brow at her. “Who said anything about trying to be perfect?”

Adam found Wyatt's ear and jerked it. Chloe couldn't help but laugh as he tried to dodge the baby's rough affection.

“All men like to think they're perfect. I'm sure you're no exception.”

“I don't have an ego that has to be fed, Chloe.”

She gave him a perky smile. “Good. Because right now I'm more concerned about feeding our stomachs.”

After settling Anna in the playpen, she went to the cabinets and rummaged through the food items. Wyatt stood to one side, his eyes taking in the provocative curves of her body as she stood on tiptoe and reached to push the canned and boxed goods from side to side.

“There's no more pasta, if that's what you're looking for,” he said after a moment.

“Here's a bag of macaroni. That will do.” She tossed it onto the countertop.

“Macaroni won't taste as good,” he told her.

“Who's picky? I'll eat anything,” Chloe assured him.

Wyatt wasn't picky. He could eat anything, too. But he knew she'd been working hard and he'd wanted to have something decent ready for her to eat.

“Okay, I'll cook the macaroni.”

She reached for Adam. “Here, let me put him in the playpen with his sister. You can't cook with a baby on your hip.”

“He'll start bawling again,” Wyatt warned.

“I doubt it. But if he does, let him. It won't hurt him to cry for a few minutes. Otherwise, he's going to have you hornswoggled into carrying him around all day long.”

“I've been at this four hours, and you already think I'm spoiling him?”

Chloe literally pulled the child from Wyatt's grasp. “Wyatt, will you relax? I'm not thinking any such thing. I'm just trying to give you a little advice.” She put Adam down in the playpen, then walked back over to Wyatt who was standing, his arms folded across his chest as though he was ready and waiting for more of her so-called advice.

“Look, Wyatt, I never gripe about free help. I want you to realize how much I appreciate it. I don't care what you burn or how much you spoil the babies.”

He visibly relaxed. “I guess I have been a little on the defensive, haven't I?”

When she nodded, he chuckled. “I just didn't want to make a mess of things right off the bat.”

Chloe laughed. “The only real mess I see around here is me,” she said, glancing down at her dirty clothes. “So if you can manage a few minutes without me, I'm going to go wash up.”

She left the room and Wyatt got busy putting water on to boil for the macaroni. As he scraped the burned pasta into the garbage pail, he could only wonder what was making him act like such an idiot. He knew Chloe didn't expect him to be the perfect daddy to the twins or some great chef here in the kitchen. Yet he wanted to be those things for her. He wanted her to see him as a man who wasn't just successful in the oil business, but a man whom she could count on for anything. Was this his ego talking, or his heart? Either way he knew he had to forget about pleasing Chloe. He wasn't here for her sake. He was here for the twins and nothing else.

When Chloe returned to the kitchen several minutes later, the twins were playing quietly in their playpen, the macaroni was cooked and smothered in spicy tomato sauce. A tossed salad was on the table and Wyatt was taking garlic bread out of the oven.

“Mmm, that smells delicious. What can I do to help?”

He looked around to see she'd showered and changed into a short-sleeved copper colored sweater and a pair of matching corduroy pants. Except for a few loose strands, her hair was caught loosely atop her head with a tortoiseshell clamp. Wyatt had never known a woman who could look so good without even trying.

“I think everything is ready, except icing the glasses for tea. Or would you rather drink wine with dinner?”

Drink wine alone with him? Not on her life. She needed
to be wide awake and keep all her senses in a straight line. “No, thanks. Tea will be fine for me.”

While he placed the rest of the food on the table, she prepared their drinks.

“Which twin do you want to feed?” she asked while dragging two high chairs from the corner of the room.

Wyatt had never fed himself and a baby at the same time. He figured the task would be a little bit like rubbing his head and patting his belly at the same time. But if Chloe could do it, he at least had to try.

“I'll take Adam. He's more used to me than Anna. Besides, he's been trying his best to give me a bad case of indigestion all evening. Now it's my turn to give him one.

Wyatt joined her at the table and helped her position the high chairs next to both their chairs. “What are the babies going to eat?” he asked. “Some more of that gooey stuff I gave them this afternoon?”

She laughed at his description of pureed carrots and spinach. “No. We'll chop up the macaroni for them. They love the stuff.”

There had been times in the past when Wyatt had taken dates out for dinner at elegant restaurants where there was candlelight and lots of fresh flowers. The women had always been wearing tasteful designer clothes, their nails had been perfectly manicured and their hair groomed in the latest fashion.

But those restaurants couldn't compare to the relaxed hominess of this warm kitchen. Those women had never looked as appealing or beautiful as Chloe did as she sat feeding Anna and herself the macaroni he'd cooked. And he realized if Sandra could hear and see him now, she'd think he'd gone crazy. A few days ago he would have thought it himself. But a few days ago he hadn't known Chloe or the babies. He hadn't known being with a woman could be so simple and yet so good.

“There was so much commotion when you first came in, I forgot to tell you your sister Rose called. She said Kitty's surgery was over. Everything went fine and she would see you tomorrow.”

“Oh, that is good news. Did she say how long Aunt Kitty would have to stay in the hospital?”

“She's getting out tomorrow afternoon.”

Relief washed over Chloe. “I'll call her tomorrow night. I'm sure she'll be wanting to know how things are going here.”

Wyatt offered Adam a spoonful of macaroni. The baby wrinkled his nose and stared at the food as if it were an offending object.

“See,” Wyatt said to Chloe, “the little monster is deliberately defying me.”

“Eat it yourself.”

“What?”

Chloe laughed at the confused look on his face. “I said, eat the macaroni yourself. He'll decide he wants some in a minute.”

Wyatt followed her advice and swallowed the spoonful of food. Adam regarded this as hilarious and started giggling out loud. Anna soon imitated her brother and in the process spewed tomato sauce and bits of macaroni down the front of her face and bib.

Groaning, Chloe grabbed a napkin and attempted to clean Anna's face. Wyatt threw up his hands and shook his head.

“This has to be your best parenting instruction yet,” he told her, chuckling.

“I can't help it if the twins think you look funny. Most of the time it's monkey see, monkey do.. You eat it and they want to eat it.”

“Well, this time it backfired.”

So it did, Chloe thought, but at least Wyatt had loosened up. Maybe before this was all over he would come to see
that perfection wasn't what the twins needed. Or Houston and his wealth. They needed affection and attention and love. In the next few days she had to make Wyatt see that she could give the twins the things that counted most.

W
hen it came time for dessert, which was the last of Kitty's cherry cobbler, the two of them carried it into the living room and ate while the babies played with a stack of colorful plastic blocks Chloe had piled in the middle of the floor for them.

“I could build a fire if you think the room is too cool for the twins,” Wyatt offered, remembering the fire she'd had burning last night. It had made the room warm and cozy. And living in Houston he rarely got to enjoy the sight of a burning fireplace.

Chloe shook her head. “It's not as cool tonight, and I don't want to waste the'firewood.”

For a moment Wyatt considered telling her not to worry about the wood—he'd buy all the firewood she needed. But he didn't. From past experience he knew where that would lead. No sooner than he bought the wood, she'd be needing something else. She'd insist she didn't want him spending his money on her, but in the next breath he'd be hearing the old empty cupboard sob story.

Wyatt wasn't stingy or greedy. In fact, he gave large
sums of money to different charities throughout the year. But being rich had made him a target. And more often than not, he'd had to learn the hard way that people weren't really interested in him, but only what he and his money could do for them.

Maybe Chloe would never be that way. But she was hurting for funds. She might be sorely tempted to use him, and he couldn't let himself give her that chance.

“Where do you buy your firewood? In Ruidoso?”

An odd look crossed her face. “Buy it? I don't buy it, I take the chain saw and the four-wheel drive up the mountain and cut it myself.”

Wyatt was so taken aback by her answer he could only stare at her.

Finally, she wiped a finger at the corner of her mouth. “What's the matter? Do I have something on my face?”

No, he did and it was usually called egg. Thank God, she couldn't know what he'd just been thinking. “No— uh—I'm sorry if I was staring. I was just…” He got up and went over to the fireplace and stacked several logs on the cold grate. “Well, just don't worry about the firewood,” he said gruffly. “I'll help you cut it.”

He wouldn't be here long enough for that, Chloe thought, but she didn't say anything as she watched him stick a match to the kindling. She certainly didn't want Wyatt thinking she was so miserly she sat around in a cold house.

Before long, flames were licking at the logs, radiating heat out over the sitting area. Wyatt stood to one side of the hearth, listening to the snap of the pine and the baby talk the twins were swapping with each other. There were no honking horns or squealing tires, no sirens or shouts from noisy neighbors.

Out here, the only sounds to be heard were the wind whispering through the pines, the occasional nicker of a horse and once, before Chloe had come in from the stable,
he thought he'd heard the distant howl of a coyote or wolf. Altogether it was a lonely but peaceful silence and nothing like he'd ever experienced before.

“What do you normally do in the evenings like this?” he asked Chloe.

She was curled up on one end of the sofa, her head resting against the back. At first glance her beauty was the thing he noticed, but on closer inspection he recognized the paleness of her face, the shadows of exhaustion under her eyes.

She should be living in a gentle, tropical climate where she wouldn't have to work in the bitter cold or dry, blistering heat, Wyatt thought. Did she never long for an easier life?

“Rest,” she said. Then realizing how that must sound to him, she added, “Sometimes my sisters and their families come over. We eat and play cards and visit. And other times, after the twins are asleep, Aunt Kitty and I watch a movie on the VCR or read.” She didn't go on to tell him that most evenings there was laundry to be folded and put away, the kitchen to be cleaned and the babies to be bathed and put to bed.

She instinctively knew that Wyatt had come from a family where there had always been housekeepers to do such manual chores. The women he knew could probably sit around the house in their “good” clothes, read fashion magazines and eat bonbons. Chloe wouldn't mind having a little extra help now and then. But she didn't want a life of leisure.

Wyatt glanced at the television set in the corner of the room. During the times he'd been out here to the ranch, he had yet to see it on. “You don't watch TV?”

She shrugged. “The news and weather. It's hard to keep up with a story while the twins are awake. The first thing you know you're chasing one of them or changing a diaper and,” she smiled wanly, “you've missed part of the plot.”

Somehow he knew that didn't bother Chloe. She was a woman who obviously put entertainment as the least important of her needs.

Sighing, he stepped off the hearth and walked over to the long paned windows that overlooked the front yard. In the daylight a high mountain range could be seen rising to the north, but tonight it was so dark even the pines shading the yard couldn't be discerned.

From the couch, Chloe watched Wyatt staring out the windows. She knew he was restless. This isolated place, as he'd called it, was probably boring him silly. But Chloe hardly knew what to do about it. She wasn't forcing him to stay. If he wanted to leave, all he had to do was get his things and go.

“It looks very cloudy out tonight. Is it possible for it to snow around here at this time of the year?”

“It's mid-September. In the higher elevations like here on the ranch, anything is possible. We have had a snow flurry in August before.”

He smiled and shook his head in disbelief. “We're in the middle of hurricane season at home and it's still as hot as a firecracker.”

He moved away from the windows and went over to the twins. Squatting down on his bootheels, he murmured something to the babies, then stacked the scattered blocks in a pyramid between their chubby little legs. The minute he finished, Adam took one healthy swat at the structure and sent the whole lot tumbling down.

Upset by her brother's rowdy attitude, Anna began to pucker up and cry. Wyatt lifted the little girl from the floor and cuddled her in his arms.

“I know, sweetheart,” he crooned to her. “Your brother is an ornery little thing. When he gets older we're going to have to teach him some manners.”

Anna bellowed louder and pointed her arm at her
brother, who was happily banging the plastic blocks against the tile floor.

Wyatt carried Anna over to a swivel rocker and sat down with her. “Here,” he told the baby, “I've got something you can play with.”

Chloe watched him fish in the front pocket of his jeans. After a moment he pulled out a beautiful pocket watch on a chain. He swung it temptingly in front of Anna, then allowed her tiny fist to grab it. Naturally, the little girl took the timepiece straight to her mouth.

“Wyatt! She'll ruin your watch,” Chloe exclaimed.

“It won't hurt her, will it?”

“No. But she'll get it wet.”

“It's waterproof. Besides, if it stops running I can always buy another one and let the twins have this one for a toy.”

Chloe groaned inwardly. The twins would be rotten once he left here, she thought, and then her mind froze with dawning reality. How could she have forgotten, even for a moment, that Wyatt planned to take the twins back to Houston with him? Because just for a moment she'd imagined the four of them as a family. She and Wyatt taking care of the twins together. Always. What was the matter with her? Had she gone crazy?

Tell Wyatt how it really is with you.
Justine's suggestion crept into Chloe's mind like an insidious snake looking for a crack to wiggle through. What would he really think if she told him she was unable to bear children? Chloe asked herself, then silently cursed as she imagined his response.

He'd pity her, no doubt. Like Richard, he'd probably even go on to tell her what a shame and what an unfair thing to have happened to her. But in the end, he'd say her condition had nothing to do with the twins' future security. Wealth and their chance to have it meant far more to Wyatt than Chloe being childless for the rest of her life.
And maybe he was right, she thought glumly. Maybe she was the one being selfish and narrow minded.

“Chloe? What's the matter?”

She looked at him blankly and he said, “You've got a horrible frown on your face. Do you have a headache?”

As far as she was concerned Wyatt wasn't just a headache, he was a full-blown migraine, the kind that hung on for days. “No. I was just…thinking about something.” She got to her feet before he could press her. “I'm going to go clean up the kitchen. Think you can handle the twins for a few minutes?”

She was too tired to be doing the dishes, but he bit down on the words. What was the use of pointing out something she already knew? Especially if he wasn't going to do anything to change her plight? The questions made him so uncomfortable he actually shifted in the chair.

“Why don't you let me clean the kitchen and you watch the twins?” he suggested.

Chloe shook her head and smiled. “You've got Anna pacified and Adam seems to be behaving himself for the moment. Let's not rock the boat. When I finish in the kitchen, I'll come back and get them ready for bed.”

A half hour later both twins were sound asleep. Wyatt laid them side by side in the playpen, then covered them with a soft blanket.

In the kitchen he found Chloe dust mopping the floor. The dishes were done, the countertops and cook range cleaned. She'd obviously been busy since she'd left him in the living room.

“Where are the twins?” she asked when she looked up and saw him walking toward her.

“Both asleep. In the playpen.” He let out an audible breath. “It's like two little tornadoes have shut down.”

Leaning on the mop handle, she smiled at him. “I guess for a person who's never been around babies before, you had a double shock treatment today.”

He grinned. “I never stopped to consider how totally dependent babies are. You can't turn your back or leave them alone for one minute.”

“That's true.”

He glanced toward the cabinet and the coffeemaker. “Would you mind if I made another pot of coffee? I'll clean up the mess.”

“Of course I don't mind,” she said as she went back to her sweeping. “I want you to make yourself at home here.”

She went back to her mopping, and Wyatt began to gather the coffee fixings. While he worked Chloe's comment lingered with him.
Make yourself at home.
It was funny how different that word felt to him now. During the years he'd been growing up, home had been a mammoth two-story house in the old, moneyed section of Houston. Wyatt had grown up having most anything he wanted. The best clothes and a roomful of anything a young boy might want to entertain himself. He'd been in Little League, Scouting and summer camps. Then later he'd advanced to motorcycles, cars, girls and college.

His father had provided him with the best of everything and along the way instilled in him a hard-driving ambition that had gotten him where he was today.

But as far as the Sanders mansion feeling like home, he couldn't say. At the time he'd called it home and he'd known it was a place he could always come back to if need be. Yet it had never felt like this place. There hadn't been babies or messes or laughter or eating in the kitchen. There hadn't been a woman around to nurture or love him. The way Chloe loved the twins.

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Chloe returning the dust mop to the pantry. “You will join me for a cup, won't you? Or does the caffeine keep you awake?”

She could have told him he was far more potent than caffeine.

“It doesn't make any difference if I drink coffee or not. I…don't sleep very well.” And she expected she was going to sleep even less now that he was in the house. How could she close her eyes and go to sleep when she knew he was in bed across the hall from her and that the two of them were alone?

“What time do you get up in the mornings?” he asked.

“Four-thirty. But that doesn't mean you have to. The twins usually don't wake until six or so.”

Seeing the coffee had finished dripping, he poured two cups and carried them over to the table. Chloe followed and took a seat kitty-corner from him.

“Maybe you'd better go over your schedule with me,” Wyatt suggested. “Otherwise, I'm going to be totally lost.”

“There's not that much of a schedule around here,” she told him. “I get up, get dressed and go to the stable to feed, then come back and eat breakfast. Afterwards, I go back to the stable to start exercising. Since I have ten horses at the present, I get half of them galloped by lunchtime, the other half by mid-afternoon. Then later in the evening, before it's time to start feeding again, I muck out the dirtiest of the stalls.”

“When do you ever have time to do anything else?” he asked, amazed at her daily ritual.

She shrugged and sipped her coffee. “I have to let things go undone. Or Rose and Emily take over for me.”

Coffee glistened on her pink lips and without warning, he was thinking of this morning when he'd kissed her. And she'd kissed him back. The taste of her was still with him, niggling at him, reminding him how good it would be to simply touch her hand, if nothing else. He'd never in his life felt such a physical longing for anyone and the fact left him feeling strangely vulnerable.

“If you do all you say you do, what is there left around the place for Rose to do?”

She laughed softly. “I know to someone who isn't familiar with ranch work it seems like things move slowly and there couldn't be much to do other than watch the cows graze in the pasture, but believe me, there is. After Daddy died, Rose and I split the work accordingly between us. She'd always worked with the cows and me the horses so we kept things that way. She has several hundred head of cattle to keep up with over several thousand acres of land. During the winter, feed and hay have to be hauled for miles across rough pastureland. She has to ride fenceline. And on a spread this large, that means hundreds of miles of it. The windmills also have to be checked periodically and there're always sick animals to be doctored, heifers needing help calving. The list goes on and on. It's a never-ending job.”