Part 15 (1/2)

He couldn't believe she didn't know. ”And here I thought your mother taught you everything. Libby, you're in for a treat. Tomorrow night, we're watching TV together.”

”All right!” Scrambling forward, she hugged him, then scooted back under her covers. ”What do you want me to call you?”

”How about 'Evan'?”

”Evan,” she repeated with approval. ”Will you come and read to me when I'm president, Evan?” she asked him again.

”You bet.” Making himself comfortable on the bed, he picked up the book and began to read out loud.

Claire slipped slowly back into Evan's bedroom, a bemused smile on her lips.

And she had been worried....

He had begun to think that Libby was never going to fall asleep. It had taken another story and a half before Libby's eyes finally closed. His jaw felt tight from reading.

The wealth of patience he'd found within himself surprised Evan. As did the discovery of other feelings that were steadily coming to the forefront. Feelings he would have said only a short while ago that he didn't have, that he wasn't capable of. And most definitely, that he didn't need.

Feelings of love and attachment.

Oh, he cared about his own family. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do for his mother and for his sisters, Paige and Krystle. And yes, even for Devin. It wasn't so much that he'd actually disliked Devin when they were growing up as that he felt he was living in his brother's shadow. Outgoing, gregarious, Devin always managed to charm everyone he met. Everyone loved Devin. When they met Evan, who was more introverted and shy, they were surprised at the difference. And sometimes vocal about it.

Evan told himself he didn't need those kinds of things, that he could do without the friends.h.i.+ps and the admiration, and that what mattered in life was success. He'd said it so often and so forcefully, he'd almost managed to fool himself.

Until now.

Until he'd been forced to take care of a chatterbox, a baby and a woman who was getting under his skin so far and so deep, there was a danger that he'd have to have her surgically removed before he could go on with his life.

What was his life, anyway? he wondered ruefully as he walked down the hall. Deadlines, presentations, facts, figures, a computer screen, people in meetings whose faces he didn't remember and a six-figure income.

Somehow, that didn't seem to add up to very much when measured in terms of what Claire had. Love. She and Libby were a unit. A unit that was calling to him, showing him what he was missing.

He wanted that unit in his own life. As part of his own life.

Evan stopped before the room where Rachel lay, hopefully sleeping. He debated checking on her, knowing that there was a fifty-fifty chance he would wake her if he opened the door. It was safer just to walk on and a.s.sume the best.

He decided to risk it.

Cracking the door slightly, he slowly pushed it open a fraction of an inch at a time. The odds, for once, were with him and the right fifty was in his corner. Rachel remained sleeping.

He crept softly into the room and then stood looking down at her. The room was quiet. If he listened, he could hear her breathing.

There was a dim light draping the room, coming from a children's lamp Libby had helped him find in Claire's garage. Evan was amazed at how helpful Libby actually was. A wry grin curved his mouth. She probably sensed how helpless he was without her.

He wondered if Claire could sense the same thing.

That was off limits, he told himself. Claire was off limits. She'd been helpful to him; he couldn't repay her by dragging her further into his life. What woman would want to get mixed up with a man with a baby on a permanent basis, especially since she already had a child of her own?

A child of her own. Was Rachel his own? He didn't know; he truly didn't know. He did know that he hadn't wanted her to be. In the beginning. But now it was different. Now he woke up in the middle of the night to her cry. Her silence woke him just as much as her cries did. He was tuned into her internal clock, had made it his.

When he'd asked Devin to find Rachel's mother, it was in hopes that he could get her to confess that Rachel wasn't his and to take her back. Now he wanted to find her so that he could get legal custody.

It was a startling thing to realize that a man as large as he could be held so fast by a hand as tiny as hers. Held by her hand, and by Libby's and Claire's. They had all taken a piece of him without his knowing it. A piece he knew he didn't want back.

Not that he had anything to offer Claire that she needed. If there was ever a woman who was all together, it was her.

”But maybe you and I can have something, hmm?” he whispered to Rachel.

To his surprise, she opened her eyes for a moment. And then a dreamy little look pa.s.sed over her face, and her eyes slid shut again.

His heart twisted in his chest. Hearts always twisted when they were being removed. He didn't have to open Rachel's hand to know that was where his heart now resided.

Very quietly, he slipped out and closed the door behind him.

Chapter Eleven.

”And just where do you think you're going?”

Startled, Claire turned around in the hallway to see Evan standing behind her. She'd been so preoccupied when she left the bedroom, she hadn't heard him walking toward her.

”Downstairs. I've got to get the turkey out of my freezer and find a way to defrost it quickly.” There wasn't much hope there. She knew the bird was rock solid. Maybe there was still one available at the supermarket. Time had strung itself out into one long chain, and she'd lost track of the days, but that was still no excuse to forget what today was.

Claire flushed. ”I forgot that today is Thanksgiving,” she admitted.

It was nice to see color back in her cheeks that wasn't a.s.sociated with a fever. It was even nicer to be able to ride to her rescue.

”The turkey's already defrosted and about one-third on its way to being baked. Some of us didn't forget,” he told her loftily.

As he had returned home from Aesthetic Athletics head quarters, Evan had made up his mind to cook the meal. Feeling triumphant at securing the account for her, he'd made a quick stop at the grocery store, or as quick as it could be with two children in tow, and picked up everything he remembered seeing on his mother's table during past Thanksgivings.

Claire stared at him as if he'd just announced he was Peter Pan and about to undertake a journey to Neverland. ”You're making Thanksgiving dinner?”

”We are,” he corrected. ”Libby's helping.” The little girl insisted on being part of everything he did. He was getting very accustomed to that. ”Actually, she does a lot of ordering around.” He raised an eyebrow, looking at Claire pointedly. ”Can't figure out where she could have gotten that from.”

Claire hadn't progressed beyond his earlier statement. Try as she might, she couldn't picture him in the kitchen doing anything other than preparing coffee. ”You're making Thanksgiving dinner?”

He smoothed out the furrow between her eyebrows with the tip of his finger. ”I thought we just got past that. That fever must have sucked out more of your brain cells than I antic.i.p.ated.”

Why was he doing this? It went far above and beyond repaying a debt he thought he owed. Caring for her, putting up with Libby, reading to Libby-it was all miles beyond the call of any duty she was certain Evan was acquainted with.

”Don't you have a family to go to? Mother? Sisters? Your twin brother?” He'd mentioned that they all lived in southern California. Evan should have been on his way there with Rachel last night, not here with her.

And yet here he was.

Something warm and hopeful began to bloom within her.

This was going to be the first holiday meal he'd miss sharing with his family, but he'd made his choice and figured he knew where he belonged. ”They all have each other. I thought someone should stay and take care of the girls and you.”