A Younger Man

“Looks like I won the bet.”

When her eyes laughed up into his, Max only grinned. All around them, people were celebrating the touchdown, but Natalie was too caught up in her victory over him to notice. Tickled pink with herself, she had a grin as big as Texas on her face and couldn’t seem to sit still. She might have been a thirty-three-year-old mother of twins, but she looked like a high school cheerleader. Max had never seen her so carefree, and regardless of how many times he reminded himself she was off-limits, he couldn’t resist reaching for her and pulling her into his arms.

Then she stared up at him with stunned blue eyes, and Max groaned.

“It’s a tradition,” he said gruffly, nodding toward the kissing couples that surrounded them on all sides. “Everyone does it when we score.”

Dear Reader,

When I came up with the story for A Younger Man and I was developing Natalie’s children, I was watching Desperate Housewives. Bingo. Suddenly, Natalie had twin boys and they were a handful—sweet and loving and each of them all boy. I loved the idea of them being identical twins because I’m an identical twin. My sister and I could fool everyone…except our parents. All our friends wished that they had a twin, but we really longed to be triplets! Wouldn’t that have been fun! In our next lifetime, watch out.

I hope I was able to show the boys’ closeness in the story—there’s no closer relationship on Earth. My sister and I still do a lot together. She lives right down the road from me. Growing up, we wondered if there would come a day when people would stop asking us if we were twins. It hasn’t happened yet.

So for my sister Brenda and all the twins out there, this one’s for you. Enjoy.

Linda Turner

A Younger Man

Linda Turner

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LINDA TURNER

began reading romances in high school and began writing them one night when she had nothing else to read. She’s been writing ever since. Single and living in Texas, she travels every chance she gets, scouting locales for her books.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Epilogue

Prologue

“Listen up, everyone,” the lead singer of the band called out as he and his fellow musicians finished performing one of the classic hits from 1988. “I’ve just been asked to announce that the buffet line is officially open. So those of you who’ve been trying to bribe your way into the kitchen can put your cash away. Let’s eat!”

He didn’t have to say it twice. Laughing and talking and catching up on the years that had passed since they’d all graduated from high school, the Liberty Hill High School Class of ’88 gravitated en masse toward the buffet that had been set up on the far side of the VFW hall.

Moving to the back of the line with her friends, Natalie Bailey pointed out several of the men who had only been boys in 1988. “Look at the guys. Don’t they look great! What have they been doing with themselves? They don’t look like they’ve aged a day since high school.”

“It’s a rotten fact of life that men get better looking with age,” Rachel said ruefully. “Women just get fat. How is that fair?”

“You’re not fat,” Natalie pointed out with twinkling eyes. “I, on the other hand…”

“Don’t even think about going there,” Abby warned. “You’re a perfect size ten. How many mothers of twins can say that?”

“But I never lost that last five pounds of baby fat,” she replied, looking down at herself with a wry grimace. “It doesn’t seem to matter how many crunches I do or how many diets I try”

“So? It looks great on you,” Lily said. “If you don’t believe me, look around. You’ve been drawing looks all evening.”

Natalie groaned aloud at the thought. “Please, spare me. I’m not looking for a man. All I want—”

“Is to go to college,” her three friends said in unison, grinning.

Natalie had to laugh. “I guess I mentioned that already, huh?”

“Only six or seven times,” Abby said with a chuckle. “So why aren’t you?”

“Don’t use the boys as an excuse,” Rachel said before she could even open her mouth. “They’re five now, aren’t they? They’re starting school. You should, too.”

“I’d love to. But how do you suggest I pay for it? It takes everything I make just to get by—I don’t even have the money to have my car fixed—it’s leaking oil and I just keep putting more in and praying it’ll last. Things would be different if Derek paid child support, but it takes money to go after him, and I don’t have any because—”

“He doesn’t pay child support,” Abby finished for her.

“Exactly,” she agreed. “Like it or not, I’m stuck.”

“What a sleaze,” Lily retorted. “I’m sorry, Nat. I know you loved him once, and he’s the boys’ father, but you worked to put that rat through college and law school. And what does he do? Turn around and find a way to shaft you again. Talk about a deadbeat!”

“He’s the one who’s missing out,” Natalie pointed out. “He’ll never have a relationship with his sons.”

“One of these days, he’ll live to regret that,” Rachel said. “They’re adorable.”

Natalie grinned. “Sometimes they’re like the twins on Desperate Housewives, but I wouldn’t trade them for anything. Even if their father is the biggest loser that ever walked on two legs.”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Rachel retorted. “That’s my ex! Derek may have walked out on you after you got pregnant with the boys, but at least you had your babies to console you. I spent years trying to get pregnant, and Jason never once told me that he’d had a vasectomy. Do you know how much I hate him for that?”

Natalie could only imagine. “It’s not too late to have children, Rachel,” she said quietly. “You’re only thirty-six. You have plenty of time.”

“Yes, she does,” Abby said with a smile. “And you have plenty of time to go to school.”

“I told you—I don’t have the money.”

“Get a grant. You’re bound to qualify. And your grades were always great in high school. You were in the national honor society, weren’t you? College will be a snap for you.”

Natalie couldn’t believe she was serious. “Are you kidding? I can’t remember the last time I had a chance to read a book. It must have been before the boys were born. That was five years ago!”

“Then you’ve got a lot of catching up to do,” Abby said lightly.

She made it sound so simple. “What about my job? And the boys? Who’s going to be there for them after school if I’ve got a class?”

“What about your mom? I thought she was thinking about moving to Eagle Creek to help you out.”

“She was, but then she married Scot, and he wanted to travel. They’re so happy. How could I ask them to give up traveling for me and the boys?”

“But you need help,” Lily said, frowning. “You’re completely on your own.”

She shrugged, her smile little more than a grimace. “I have a friend who babysits the boys when I’m working at the restaurant. But that’s not all day long.”

“You’ll work it out,” Lily assured her. “Everyone who has kids finds a way to work it out. Just make sure you invite us to your graduation.”

When her friends just grinned at her, Natalie raised a brow. “Oh, really? What about the three of you? You want me to go to school, but I don’t see any of you making changes in your lives. I’ll send you an invitation to my graduation when I get an invitation to Rachel’s baby shower and Abby’s wedding and a signed copy of Lily’s first coffee-table book of her photos. What do you say to that?”

They all recognized a gauntlet had been thrown down. The question was…which one of them would pick it up first?

Chapter 1

“Look, Mommy,” Tommy said happily, holding up the turtle he’d just carried in from the backyard. “I’m taking Pete with me to school!”

In the process of checking her sons’ backpacks to make sure they would have everything they would need for their first day of school, Natalie glanced up in alarm. “What? Oh, no, you’re not!”

“It’s okay,” Harry said as he followed his brother into the kitchen. Carrying his own turtle and unmindful of the dirty water dripping onto his clean shirt, he flashed a sweet, boyish grin at her. “The teacher won’t care. Sean said everybody is supposed to bring something the first day for show and tell.”

Swallowing a groan, Natalie didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry. Sean Johnson, the next-door neighbor’s son, was the bane of her existence. Nine going on thirty, he was constantly giving her sons advice that invariably led them into one mess after another.

“I’m sure Sean meant well,” she told them as she quickly took the turtles from them and returned them to the small plastic pool they called home in the backyard. “You can take your turtles to school, but not today. First, you have to get permission from your teacher.”

“She won’t mind, Mom,” Tommy assured her earnestly. “Sean said so.”

“Just to be sure, we’ll play it safe. Now, come on. I’ve got to get you two cleaned up or you’re going to be late for school.”

“Aw, Mom, not again! Do we have to?”

“We just changed shirts!”

They had, in fact, already changed twice, but she couldn’t let them go to school looking as if they’d been playing in the mud. Bustling them into their room, she snatched their dirty shirts over their heads and had to laugh as they chatted like magpies.

She wasn’t laughing thirty minutes later, however, as she hurriedly walked the boys to their classroom. “Can you stay with us, Mom? Pleeeze?”

“We don’t want you to go to college,” Tommy added, wrapping his arms around her legs. “You can go to school with us.”

She saw the touch of fear in his eyes as well as Harry’s, and forced an upbeat smile. “I’d love to, hotshot, but the principal won’t let me. Your school is for boys and girls, not mommies. But you’ll be okay—I promise. You’re going to learn to read and add and subtract and do all sorts of things. Trust me…you’re going to love it!”

They didn’t look convinced, but then one of the little boys already in the classroom stepped forward and said, “Hey, are you guys twins? I’m a twin! See—there’s my brother.”

The boys absolutely loved being twins, and they were instantly fascinated. Turning to check out the other twins, they said in unison, “Wow!” Giving her a quick hug, they sprinted across the room to make friends.

Knowing they would never miss her, Natalie only took time to assure the teacher she would be back to pick the boys up when school was out, then rushed outside to her car. Hurry. The single word beat like a drum in her head. She had fifteen minutes to make it to class. She would have to fly.

It was a beautiful August day, and as she raced through the streets of Eagle, Colorado, all the lights turned green right on time. For a moment she thought she was going to make it. Then, just two miles from the campus of Mountain State University, her right rear tire blew with no warning. Startled, she gasped as the car swerved sharply to the right.

“Oh, no!” she cried, fighting to control it. “This can’t be happening! I’m already late!”

The powers-that-be didn’t care. The awkward thump of the flat echoed loudly as she steered her ten-year-old Honda over to the curb.

She wasn’t a woman given to profanity, especially since she’d had her sons, but at that moment she could have cursed a blue streak. Class started in eight minutes. She was never going to make it.

“Well, damn!”

Another woman would have called her road service, then waited for a big strong man to change the flat for her. But she didn’t have road service, and there was no big strong man in her life. Ever since Derek had decided he didn’t want to be a father or a husband, she’d learned to do things herself. That included changing flats. Resigned, she turned off the motor and stepped to the back of the car to unlock the trunk and retrieve the jack. She didn’t even worry about getting dirty—there was no point. It was a given she was going to get filthy.

Five minutes later she was struggling to loosen the lug nuts and not getting anywhere fast. Frustrated, she was considering giving the wheel a good swift blow with the lug wrench when a motorcycle suddenly pulled up behind her. A Good Samaritan at last, she thought with a sigh of relief. She was still going to be late for class, but she couldn’t worry about that. She just hoped that whoever her rescuer was, he was big and strong. Because nothing short of a Hercules was going to loosen those darn nuts.

At any other time she might have been nervous if she’d been stranded on the side of the road with no one around to help her but a lone motorcycle rider. But she was on the main thoroughfare to the university, it was broad daylight, and it was the first day of the fall semester. Cars streamed by in never-ending numbers. Surely an ax murderer wouldn’t be at work under such circumstances.

Rising to her feet to face her rescuer, a smile of gratitude already curling the corners of her mouth, she felt her breath hitch in her throat at the sight of him. She readily admitted that there was something about motorcyclists that had always fascinated her. Dressed in black leather, riding down the street on their growling steel-and-chrome bikes, they were like dark knights, bold and daring, in search of adventure. And if she thought there was even a chance her boys would grow up to ride motorcycles, she’d lock them both in their rooms until they were thirty-five!

That didn’t mean, however, that she couldn’t appreciate the man striding toward her. He’d taken off his helmet and left it on his bike, and she couldn’t stop her heart from skipping a beat or two as she got a good look at him. Tall and lean, with thick golden-brown hair that was rebelliously long, he had a confident stride to his step and a glint of amusement in his blue eyes that was incredibly appealing. And he couldn’t have been a day over twenty-two.

So? a voice drawled in her head. He could be thirty-five and wonderful and you still wouldn’t give him the time of day. You’ve sworn off men. Remember?

She didn’t deny it. When it came to love and romance, she was done, finis, finished. The only men in her life were her sons, and that’s the way she intended to keep it. If she sometimes felt a pang of loneliness and longing in the dark of the night, then that was her little secret.

“Having trouble?” the knight in black leather asked her with a crooked smile. “Looks like you could use a hand.”

“I just need the lug nuts loosened,” she said. “I can do the rest myself.”

His smile deepened into a grin. “A liberated woman. I like that. The way I see it, everyone should know how to change a flat and cook an omelet. It should be one of the essential skills they teach in school. Then you can always get where you’re going and you won’t go hungry.”

Dropping down to one knee in front of the flat tire, he looked up at her with twinkling eyes. “You look like a woman who would know her way around a kitchen. What do you like to cook? French? Italian?”

She felt the warmth of his gaze all the way down to her toes, and for a moment, her mind went completely blank. Then his eyes crinkled with amusement and she realized she was staring at him as if she didn’t have a brain in her head. Heat rushed into her cheeks, mortifying her. What was wrong with her? She was too old to blush!

“I’m sorry,” she said stiffly. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m really in a hurry. I’ve got to get to school.”

Interest sparked in his eyes. “School? You go to Mountain State?”

She nodded, then grimaced wryly. “Well, I will if my professor doesn’t kick me out before I even get to sit in on his first class.”

“Oh, I doubt he’ll do that,” he replied as he easily loosened one lug nut, then another. “Most of the professors are pretty reasonable. What’s your first class?”

“Archeology,” she said, “with Professor Sullivan.”

“Sullivan?” he said, arching a brow consideringly. “From what I’ve heard, he’s a decent guy. Just tell him you had a flat on the way to school. I’m sure he’ll cut you some slack.”

“I’ve just waited so long to go to college, and I want to start out on the right foot. Not that the professor will probably even notice,” she added. “I’ve heard that some of the classes are so large there’s no way the teachers even know who all their students are.”

“Oh, Sullivan will notice you,” he assured her with a grin. “You’re cute. And I heard he was partial to redheads.”

Heat climbing in her cheeks, she narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you flirting with me?”

Not the least bit concerned by her warning tone, he winked at her. “Got it in one, sweetheart. How’m I doing?” When she just gave him a baleful look, he chuckled. “That good, huh? Give me time. I’m just warming up.”

His eyes danced with laughter, and she had to admit that there’d been a time in her life when she might have been tempted. She’d always had a weakness for scamps, and there was no question that her handsome Samaritan had, no doubt, been using a smile and the glint in his eyes to get his way with women ever since he was old enough to crawl. But he had to be at least ten years younger than she was, and she was older and wiser than she’d once been.

Anxious to be on her way, she said lightly, “I really hate to shoot you down, but I’ve got to go. Thanks for loosening the lug nuts for me. I’ll take it from here.”

Not the least disturbed that she was giving him the brush-off, he only grinned. “No problem. I’ve got it.” And not giving her time to argue further, he jacked up the back of her car and quickly replaced the flat with her spare. Two minutes later, he loaded the flat and jack in the trunk of her Honda, slammed the lid and turned to her with a smile. “You’re all set to go.”

“Thank you so much,” she said with a sigh of relief. “You don’t know how much I appreciate this.”

“Get the flat fixed as quickly as you can,” he told her as he opened her door for her and she quickly slipped into the driver’s seat. “Your spare’s pretty thin.”

“I know. I’ve been meaning to get new tires, but you know how that goes.” Smiling, she quickly started the car. “Thanks again for all your help. Gotta go.”

“Hey, wait!” he said, startled, as she put the car in gear. “What’s your number? Let’s meet—”

Waving, she drove off.

“—for a drink,” he called after her. She didn’t even slow down. Ten seconds later she turned at the next corner and disappeared from view. Grinning, he grabbed his helmet and jumped on his bike. Ten seconds later he, too, turned at the next corner.

Her first class was in Old Main, and Natalie couldn’t find a parking space anywhere. Softly cursing, she quickly cruised down the surrounding streets, keeping a eye out for the campus police and any space big enough to squeeze her car into. And with every tick of the clock on the dash, the knot in her stomach tightened.

When she finally found a parking place six blocks away, she was already late for class. Now it was only a question of how late. Quickly pulling into the small space between two pickups that were over their lines, she grabbed her backpack and sprinted for Old Main.

She was breathless by the time she reached her classroom. Hesitating outside in the hallway, she dreaded opening the door and walking in. Rushing in ten minutes after class started, the object of all eyes, was not the way she’d dreamed of starting college, but there was no help for it. Dragging in a calming breath, she straightened her shoulders and pulled open the door.

Just as she’d expected, all eyes swung her way. Heat climbed in her cheeks and she was only concerned with finding a seat and disappearing. But first she had to apologize to her professor for being so late. Forcing a weak smile, she directed her gaze to the man standing at the front of the classroom. “I’m so sorry—”

That was as far as she got. Her gaze locked with familiar sparkling blue eyes that were full of mischief, and suddenly her heart was pounding in confusion. This was Maxwell Sullivan? A biker with a fast smile and a quick line who came to the aid of damsels in distress? He couldn’t be! Maxwell Sullivan was not only a professor of archeology, but a writer who was a true-life Indiana Jones. He traveled all over the world, solving mysteries that were older than dirt, then came home and wrote bestselling novels about his adventures by weaving archeological facts into fiction. He couldn’t possibly be her Good Samaritan! He was too young, too carefree, too cute to be a stodgy old professor.

“I’m sorry,” she said huskily. “Excuse me. I must be in the wrong classroom.”

“Not so fast,” Maxwell Sullivan said easily as she turned to leave. “You’re in the right place…or at least you are if you’re Natalie Bailey. Everyone else answered roll.”

Stunned, she just stared at him. “But you’re supposed to be older!”

It wasn’t until the rest of the class laughed that she realized she’d blurted out her thoughts. Mortified, she wanted to sink right through the floor. Forcing a weak smile, she said, “Excuse me while I take my foot out of my mouth. I just thought—”

“What everyone else in the class thought,” he finished for her with an easy grin. “So, please, don’t apologize. I’ll be the first to admit I’m not your average professor.”

“So just how old are you?” a cocky eighteen-year-old asked him from the front row. “Are you sure you have your Ph.D? You don’t look old enough to shave, dude.”

“You can thank my parents for that,” Max retorted, chuckling. “I’ve got good genes. And yes, I do have my Ph.D. If you don’t believe me—check me out. I didn’t buy any of my degrees on the Internet.”

“But you’ve got to be too young to be a professor,” another student said with a frown. “How old were you when you graduated from high school? Nine?”

“Not quite,” he laughed. “I was sixteen.”

“Sixteen!”

“No way!”

Grinning at the uproar that created, he added, “I got my B.A. when I was nineteen.”

The rest of her classmates found that hard to accept, but Natalie could well believe he’d finished college in three years. She’d read his books—they were complex and detailed and filled with fascinating historical facts. Knowing nothing else about him other than his published work, she’d never doubted that he was anything short of brilliant…which was why she’d been so eager to sign up for his class. She’d never dreamed he’d be a biker with peach fuzz on his cheeks.

Okay, so he wasn’t that young. It was his quick, teasing smile that made him look like a teenager, she decided as her gaze moved to the sensuous lines of his mouth. Boyish dimples flashed with every smile, but it was the self-deprecating twinkle in his eye that charmed her. What woman could resist a man who didn’t take himself seriously? How old was he? Frowning, she tried to do the math. If he graduated from college with his B.A. when he was nineteen, then spent the next four or five years finishing graduate school and his Ph.D., then he had to be at least…

“Twenty-eight,” he said with a quirk of a smile as he looked her right in the eye and read her mind. “I’ve been teaching for five years.”

From across the room, someone asked him when he’d gone on his first dig, but Natalie hardly heard his answer for the pounding of her heart. He gave the other students who asked questions the courtesy of his attention, but it seemed as if his gaze always returned to hers.

You’re imagining it, she told herself. He’s your professor, for heaven’s sake! And a biker who’s footloose and fancy-free. You’re a mother with twins and the only one your boys can depend on to be there for them. The last thing you want or need is a man.