Adding to the Family

Chapter Two

By Thursday of that week, Miranda was uncharacteristically restless. There wasn’t much going on at the moment in her job as an assistant buyer for Little Rock-based Ballard’s Department Stores. She had been to a club nearly every night for the past two weeks, and she wasn’t in the mood that night. But she didn’t want to sit in her tiny apartment and watch TV, either.

She checked the messages on her machine when she arrived home from work, hoping maybe someone would have an idea for an evening’s entertainment that intrigued her. Brandi’s was the first voice she heard. “Hi, Miranda, it’s me. There’s going to be a new band at Vino’s tonight and I heard the lead singer is really hot. Some of us will be there around eight if you want to join us.”

“I don’t think so.” Miranda erased that message and moved on to the next.

“Yo, ’Randa, it’s Robbie. I haven’t heard from you in a couple of weeks. What, did you drop off the face of the earth or somepin?” He chuckled at his own wit, then continued, “Anyway, babe, I’d love to see you again, so why don’t you give me a call and we’ll go party, yo? You’ve got my cell number.”

“No, actually, I tossed it.” Miranda punched the erase button again. She had gone out with Robbie once, but she had no interest in seeing him again. Last time he’d been so grabby she’d finished the evening with unwelcome fingerprints all over her body. She didn’t care for the steamroller approach to seduction, and she had made it quite clear to Robbie that she would be the one to decide when—or if—their casual dating took the next step.

She had decided it wouldn’t. Robbie was history.

The next male voice that issued from her answering machine was as brusquely businesslike as Robbie’s had been presumptuously intimate, but this time Miranda’s knees showed a distinct inclination to jellify. “Hi, Miranda, it’s Mark Wallace. I have your tax returns ready. You can stop by my office anytime tomorrow to sign them. If I’m tied up, my assistant can take care of everything for you.”

Lordy, but Mark Wallace had a voice that could make a woman’s heart get an aerobic workout, Miranda mused, her finger hovering over the erase button. Warm, deep, with just a faintly rough edge, his was a voice that made her fantasize about sweet nothings and pillow talk. Okay, so the man was off-limits—but there was nothing wrong with a little fantasizing, right?

She indulged herself for a few minutes in a pleasantly naughty daydream involving his big, glossy desk. And then she sighed regretfully and made herself push the erase button.

She finally decided to take in a movie—alone. There were times when she just didn’t feel particularly social, and this was one of them. She would be surrounded by people, but she wouldn’t have to make conversation with any of them. Perfect for her mood tonight.

There were only a few theater choices in Little Rock. She drove to the one she usually patronized, since it provided stadium-style seating and what she considered the best popcorn in town.

She wanted a film that was mindless, noisy and action-filled, with a high pretty-boy factor. There was just such a movie playing this evening. She stood in a line filled mostly with teenagers and bought her ticket, then joined another line to buy popcorn and a drink.

Clutching her snacks, she turned away from the counter and almost ran smack dab into Mark Wallace. Talk about coincidences…

Holding a blond toddler on his left hip and the hand of his older daughter in his right hand, Mark looked as surprised as Miranda was to see him.

“This is really freaky,” she said. “I just heard your voice on my machine less than an hour ago.”

He smiled. “It’s certainly a coincidence. How are you?”

“Fine, thanks.” Feeling herself being studied by two pairs of curious blue eyes, Miranda looked warily at the girls. She should probably say something to them, but she wasn’t sure what. She settled for a smile and a “hi.”

“Miss Martin, these are my daughters, Payton and Madison.”

Miranda smiled at the toddler who gazed so intently back at her, one forefinger stuck in her mouth. “Hello, Madison.”

Madison buried her face in her father’s neck.

Not as shy as her younger sister, Payton piped up, “You were in Daddy’s office.”

“Yes, I was. You came in to tell him about a field trip.”

“I got in trouble for not knocking,” Payton said, not looking particularly perturbed by the memory. Apparently the punishment hadn’t been overly severe. “I like your earrings.”

“Um, thanks.” She was wearing a pair of her favored gold hoops. “I like your shirt,” she said, nodding toward the sparkly butterfly on the girl’s pink T-shirt.

“It’s new. Would you tell my daddy to let me get pierced ears like you and Nicola Cooper?”

Miranda didn’t have a clue who Nicola Cooper was, but she knew better than to interfere in a parental decision. “You’re on your own with that battle, kiddo.”

“Your hair has stripes in it,” Payton announced, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

“They’re called highlights, and before you ask, I can’t help you there with your father, either.”

“I don’t think I want stripes. Just earrings.”

Miranda laughed at the kid’s candor. “I really should introduce you to my friend Oliver sometime. I think the two of you would get along very well.”

Mark abruptly cleared his throat. “We’d better be going. It’s Madison’s bedtime.”

“You’ve already seen a movie?”

“Yeah. We do the early showings. The kids brought me to see the new animated film that came out today.”

“It’s his birthday,” Payton confided. “Daddy’s thirty. We had cake.”

So Mark had spent his thirtieth birthday watching a cartoon movie with two kids under five. She wondered wryly how he could stand the excitement. “Happy birthday, Mark.”

“Thanks. But don’t let us keep you any longer. I’m sure your companion is waiting for you.”

“No companion tonight. I came stag.”

He lifted an eyebrow as he glanced at the big tub of popcorn and large diet soda in her arms.

“All mine,” she informed him loftily. “When I splurge, I go all out.”

“So I see. Well…enjoy.”

“Thanks.”

“Bye, Miss Martin,” Payton called over her shoulder as her father led her away.

“Goodbye, Payton. And Madison,” she added, earning a quick, shy smile from the smaller girl before she promptly ducked into her daddy’s shoulder again.

Very strange encounter, Miranda mused as she settled into a theater seat and placed her soda in the cup holder. It was pretty startling to see Mark in his role as doting dad right after he’d played the part of hunky accountant in her erotic daydream.

One would think she would find him less appealing in that light, considering the way she felt about kids. Funny thing was, she had been just as strangely drawn to him as ever.

When it came to Mark Wallace, Miranda couldn’t even predict her own reactions. There was nothing wrong with a little fantasy, she reminded herself. She just had to remember not to get those harmless daydreams mixed up with reality.

Mark had half hoped that Miranda would pick up her tax forms while he was occupied with another client. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the sight of her. Seeing her was always like having a few extra rays of sunshine brighten his day.

Yet it was that very type of imagery that made him increasingly wary of seeing her too often. His life wasn’t what anyone would call exciting, but he had been content with it for the past couple of years. He didn’t need anyone messing with his mind, making him wish for something more than what he had now.

A caregiver. That was what he had always been, and what he would likely always be. From the time he was just a kid, taking care of his chronically ill mother and his little sister, he had been compelled to help people who needed him. Too many times he had reached out a hand and pulled back a bloody stump—at least that was what it had felt like to him when people he’d tried to help had turned on him with a vengeance. His ex-wife, for example.

Now his daughters needed him. He was all they had and taking care of them required all his concentration. All his energy. He did his best to help his clients with their financial needs, but he didn’t get overly involved with any of them. The only one who even tempted him to do so was Miranda.

So, he wasn’t sure whether he was pleased or perturbed when she arrived at his office just after his last appointment for the day had departed.

Two years earlier, Mark had set up for business in his west Little Rock home, converting a side door into the office entrance. That door led into a small reception area that held a love seat, two visitor chairs and his assistant’s desk and credenza. Mark’s smallish, but adequate-size workspace opened off that room, with another door behind him that led into the house.

The setup worked well for him, keeping him close to his kids even during the busiest times of the year. He often returned to the office after the girls were asleep, leaving the door to the house open so he could hear them if they needed him. He would never get rich with his one-man CPA business, but he was supporting his family, and that was all that mattered to him.

“Ms. Martin is here for her returns,” his assistant announced from the open doorway very late that afternoon. “She said she would like to speak with you, if you have a few minutes.”

He resisted an impulse to smooth his hair, which was typically tousled at this time of day, thanks to his habit of running a hand through it when he concentrated on something. “Sure, Pam. Send her in.”

“Okay. And unless you need me for anything, I’m gone for the day.”

“No, go ahead. I’ll see you Monday. Have a nice weekend.”

“Thanks. You, too.”

A moment later Miranda appeared in the doorway where Pam had stood. She wore a bright pink top with black slacks. For someone who had claimed to hate it when her feet hurt, she sure seemed to have a thing for trendy shoes, he thought, glancing at the heeled, narrow boots she was wearing.

Only then did he notice that she was carrying a cheerfully wrapped present in her left hand. She came in singing the happy birthday song and set the package on his desk in front of him.

A little flustered, he rose. “This wasn’t necessary.”

She dropped into a chair. “Just open it.”

Sitting behind the desk again, he tore away the wrapping paper from her gift to reveal a bottle of liquor. One glance at the label made him do a double-take. “Whoa.”

“As much as you probably enjoyed the outing with your kids, I figured you needed something grown-up to commemorate your thirtieth birthday.”

“This is too much,” he said with a dazed shake of his head. “You shouldn’t have—”

“Hey, Wallace. Just because you count my money doesn’t mean you can tell me how to spend it. Just say, thank you, Miranda.”

He sighed. “Thank you, Miranda.”

“Good boy.” She grinned at him, and it was impossible to resist smiling back.

“How was your movie?” he asked to change the subject.

She shrugged. “Loud. Predictable. I enjoyed it—but mostly I enjoyed the popcorn.”

He reached into a wire basket on his credenza and plucked out a file. “Sign where I’ve stuck the flags and I’ll file the forms electronically. You should receive your federal and state refunds within the next few weeks.”

“Oh, yeah, I can party then,” she murmured sarcastically as she flipped to the flagged pages and signed her name.

Shaking his head, he replied, “As I’ve told you several times, it’s better to pay less up-front and keep your money in the bank than overpay and get a bigger refund at the end of the year. The government doesn’t pay interest. And aren’t you even going to look those over? You can take them home, you know, though I have to have them back by closing time tomorrow.”

“I trust you,” she said, closing the file that held her copies without another glance at them. “I wouldn’t pay you to do this for me if I didn’t.”

“I wouldn’t trust anyone that much with my tax forms,” he said in a chiding tone. “I’d have to check to make sure everything was done the way I wanted it to be.”

She didn’t seem at all shaken in her confidence. “Got a bit of OCD, do we?”

“Obsessive compulsive disorder? Maybe a little. Must be why I chose to be an accountant—just to make sure all the columns add up and the bottom lines balance.”

He was unreasonably pleased when she laughed.

She stood to hand the signed forms back to him, leaning slightly across the desk as she offered it. Her bright pink top gapped a bit with the movement, and he was treated to a clear view of the tops of her creamy breasts. He didn’t believe it was intentional on her part, but the fact that he was still seated put him directly at eye level with her chest. And a nice chest it was, he noted before he quickly glanced away.

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. It had been too long since he had spent an adult night out if he was reacting this strongly to a glimpse of cleavage.

“I suppose you have big plans for the weekend?” he asked as Miranda took her seat again, apparently in no hurry to leave.

“No, not really. I’m just going to play it by ear.”

“Maybe I could buy you dinner tomorrow night?” It had been a while since he had asked anyone out, and his awkwardness now made that painfully clear. It wasn’t as if he had given any thought to the invitation, since he’d blurted it out almost before he had realized he was going to ask.

For the first time since he had met her, he saw Miranda Martin at a temporary loss for words. “Is this like a thank-you-for-your-business dinner?” she asked after a moment.

“Not exactly. But I’ll understand if you don’t want to mix business with pleasure.” It was a risk he probably shouldn’t be taking himself, actually. Maybe it would be better all around if she turned him down. He’d have gotten the urge to ask out of his system, and she would have made it clear she wasn’t interested, putting a stop to any further imaginings on his part.

Miranda toyed with the folder in her lap, studying him with atypically somber eyes. “It isn’t that I’m not tempted. I think dinner with you could be fun. But you should know that I make it a rule not to get involved with a man with kids.”

“And I’m not looking to get involved with anyone, either,” he returned. “Precisely because of those kids. That doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate an occasional adult evening out.”

“So you’re just suggesting a casual date?”

“Just dinner,” he agreed. “I spent my birthday watching a cartoon with two preschoolers. It would be nice to have a conversation that doesn’t center around animated characters or talking animals.”

As he watched her mentally debate the invitation for a few moments longer, he wondered what was going through her mind.

“Okay, sure,” she said finally. “We’ll call it a birthday dinner. But in that case, I should pay.”

He tapped the bottle of expensive liquor sitting on his desk. “I’d say you’ve spent enough already. Dinner will be my treat. Dress comfortably—I have no intention of wearing a tie. I’m celebrating my birthday and the end of tax season.”

She smiled. “Fine. You can write the expense off, anyway. Remind me to ask you an accounting question sometime during the meal.”

He chuckled and escorted her out of his office, agreeing to the details of the dinner date along the way. And then he returned to his desk, where he wasted the next half hour wondering what on earth he’d been thinking when he had impulsively asked out Miranda Martin.

Miranda was almost ready the next evening when her telephone rang. Her first thought was that Mark had changed his mind—come to his senses, maybe. Her second thought was, damn, she’d spent the past hour primping for nothing.

“Hello?”

“Hi. It’s me.”

“Lisa?” This was more of a surprise than having Mark cancel dinner. Miranda could hardly remember the last time she had spoken with her sister. “Are you here in town?”

“No. But, Miranda, I’m in trouble.”

Miranda resisted an urge to groan. “How much do you need?”

“No, it’s worse than that.”

Something in her sister’s voice made a chill run down Miranda’s spine. “Lisa, what’s wrong? What do you need me to do?”

“I just—I just want you to know I’m sorry. And I wish things had been different—for both of us. I really do love you, you know. I’ve always been able to turn to you when I needed you. And since Grandma died, you’re the only one in our family I can say that about.”

Miranda was getting more anxious by the moment. “Please, tell me what’s going on. Are you ill? Is something wrong with the boys?”

“I’m so sorry, Miranda. I need you again. It’s the biggest favor I’ve ever asked of you, but I know you’ll do the right thing.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Tell me—”

“Damn, I’ve got to go.” There was a new note of tension in Lisa’s voice now, which had dropped to little more than a whisper. “Please, Miranda, don’t let me down.”

“Wait, you haven’t even told me what—”

But Lisa had already hung up, and when Miranda tried the call return function, the phone number was blocked.

She slammed down the telephone receiver in frustration. Lisa had always been prone to melodrama, but this mysterious call was unusual even for her. Miranda just hoped her older sister hadn’t done anything really stupid this time, though considering the tone of that telephone call, it seemed to be a futile wish.

Now she was running late and Mark was due any minute. Growling beneath her breath, she dashed for her bedroom—not exactly a long run since her two-room apartment was somewhat smaller than tiny.

She had just slipped her feet into her shoes when her doorbell rang. Fluffing her hair with one hand, she made a quick mirror-check before heading for the door.

She had debated what to wear, wanting to dress up a bit more than her usual weekend jeans, but not wanting to look as though she had put too much effort into her grooming. She had settled on a three-quarter sleeve sunshine-yellow blouse worn open over a white tank top and a short denim skirt with a wide leather belt at the hips. Leather wedge-heeled sandals and chunky gold and amber jewelry completed the casual outfit. Now she was rethinking her choices. Maybe she should have worn—

Bringing an abrupt stop to that line of thought, she shook her head at her uncharacteristic hesitation and opened the door.

Mark looked as delectable as always in a hunter-green cotton shirt and khakis. Admittedly more conservative than her usual crowd, but sexy enough to make her pulse rate increase, anyway.

“You look very nice,” he said, giving her a smile that held just a touch of shy awkwardness. Which, of course, only endeared him more to her.

“Thank you.”

He glanced around her miniscule, thrift-store furnished apartment. “Nice place. It’s very…cozy.”

“Which is your tactful way of pointing out how small it is.” She shrugged. “I would rather spend my extra money on fun than rent.”

Because he knew exactly how much she made, and how much she stashed into savings for a future in which she intended to retire young and spend a great deal of time traveling, he didn’t seem surprised by that choice. “It’s still a nice place.”

“Thanks.” She slung her purse over her shoulder and locked the door behind them as they headed outside.

This evening could be very interesting. Either she would find out that Mark Wallace wasn’t the stimulating company she had imagined he would be, or the night would end with her being just as fascinated by him as she had been to this point.

She figured she could handle whatever happened between them as long as neither one of them showed signs of getting too serious.

Chapter Three

Mark couldn’t remember being so nervous about a date since high school. It annoyed him that he was acting more like a teenager than a thirty-year-old father of two.

Maybe the problem was that he hadn’t dated much since his divorce just over two years ago. He had been too busy setting up his home-based accounting practice and raising two little girls, who had been barely more than babies when his ex-wife had left.

On the handful of occasions he had gone out during the past couple of years—usually at the urging of a friend who had someone he just had to meet—the women he had seen had been very different from Miranda. More subdued. More conservative. Usually divorced, themselves, and busy raising children of their own.

Mark hadn’t really clicked with any of them. As nice as they had been, he was usually relieved when the awkward evenings had ended and he’d been back at home. Was he really such a glutton for punishment that he was attracted only to women who were completely wrong for him?

“You’re kind of quiet tonight,” Miranda commented after their food was placed in front of them.

Worried that he hadn’t been holding up his end of the conversation, he forced a smile. “Sorry. This time of year, most accountants go into brain overload.”

“I can imagine. Especially if all your clients are as late getting their paperwork to you as I was.”

“Not everyone waits so late—but enough to make this season a challenge.”

“I bet.”

Mark sliced into his steak. “You’re a bit quieter than usual, yourself.”

“Sorry. Just before you arrived this evening, I had a disturbing phone call.”

He frowned. “Not bad news, I hope.”

She toyed with her lemon-peppered salmon, her expression solemn. “No. Or maybe. I’m not really sure, actually.”

Bemused, he tilted his head to study her face. “You’re not sure?”

“With my sister, it’s hard to tell sometimes.”

He grimaced. “Now that’s a remark I understand completely.”