Chapter Three

      After Noah left, if Cassie hadn’t already been in bed, she’d have collapsed. What had gotten into her to say such an outrageous thing?

      Maybe the quiet thrill of his gentle kiss? The security of having his hand around yours? Seeing your tiny baby sheltered in his big, strong arms, and wondering how much richer your daughters’ lives would be than your own if, unlike you, they grew up with a father?

      Cassie frowned.

      That was ridiculous!

      The last thing her girls needed was a daddy. Besides, Cassie was no more interested in Noah than he was in her.

      So why did she get all defensive on him?

      Tom. That’s why.

      Because his lies had forever and irrevocably changed her for the worse. More than ever she hated her former husband for instilling in her an innate need for constructing emotional walls.

      Where her heart had once contained nothing but trusting naiveté, now, she knew she’d never trust another man again—not of choice, but necessity.

      On her own, she’d barely survived Tom’s deception, but now, she had the girls’ well-being to consider.

      Noah seemed like a nice guy. Yet Tiffany claimed he ran when the word commitment was so much as breathed around him. So why was he still hanging around?

      Baffling. The man’s actions were utterly baffling.

      Putting her hands to her temples, Cassie tried massaging answers from her aching head.

      Why was this virtual stranger being so darned nice?

      What did he want from her?

      Even more disturbing, what did she want from him?

      She would have pondered all of the questions further, but ever since delivering the babies, her mind and body had had a tough time coordinating schedules.

      This time, her body won, and sleep stealthily took hold.

      “THAT’S OKAY, Doctor,” Cassie said early the next morning after he’d lightly shaken her awake from her latest nap. “I understand about the girls needing to stay on.” What she didn’t understand was why no one in this hospital wanted her to sleep!

      “All right, then…” said the pediatrician caring for the twins. His black toupee hung a bit askew from the gray tufts peeking around the sides, but his friendly smile lit the blue eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses. “If our craft fair makes it tough for you to find a room, let me know, and I’ll see what I can do.”

      “Thanks,” Cassie said, “but I’m sure I’ll manage just fine.”

      Hugging the babies’ charts, Doctor Joe, as he liked to be called, paused on his way out the door to give her a thumbs-up. “Young lady, judging by the spunk it must’ve taken to bring those two girls into this world, I’m sure you will.”

      Famous last words.

      Ever since the doctor had informed Cassie that she was free to leave the hospital, but her babies weren’t, due to a mild case of jaundice, she’d been dialing her way through Riverdale’s meager yellow pages, trying to find a hotel, motel or even a houseboat for rent.

      Unfortunately, every single establishment she’d called had had only one thing to say. “Sorry, but because of the craft fair, we’ve been booked for months.”

      Even down in Little Rock, she’d heard of the twice annual northwest Arkansas event. She even had friends who regularly made the trip for handwoven baskets, hand-strung beaded necklaces and funnel cakes. What Cassie hadn’t known was just what a big deal the craft extravaganza actually was.

      Oh sure, this early in the week, she could’ve gotten a room in Fayetteville, Springdale or Rogers, but for only two nights. What if the babies ended up staying longer? And how was she going to manage the hundred and twenty mile round trip commute?

      Just as she’d hung up on Doxy’s Motor court after yet another apology, a knock sounded on her door.

      “Come in,” she sang out, glad she’d at least managed to put on real clothes in between calls.

      At least two dozen yellow roses arranged in an elegant crystal vase walked in attached to long, strong masculine legs encased in faded jeans. “Good morning,” said a familiar voice that sounded an awful lot like Noah from behind the fragrant blooms. “I brought you a going-away gift.”

      “If only I had somewhere to go,” she said, trying not to pout. “I don’t suppose you have any connections with the local inns?”

      “What’s this? Miss Independence is actually asking for help?” Noah set the flowers and his keys on the bedside table, then lowered himself into his usual chair. The red Razorback T-shirt he’d changed into did the most amazing tricks with his warm brown eyes, and his dark hair looked all spiky and damp from a recent shower.

      Cheeks warming at the mere thought of him all rock hard and suds slick, she hastily looked away.

      Trying to ignore the heady scent of the roses, not to mention the completely irrational quickening of her pulse, Cassie stuck out her tongue before saying, “Thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”

      “You’re welcome. And might I say you look particularly fetching yourself—all dressed up in your fancy black dress, but with nowhere to go, huh?”

      “Thanks again for reminding me.” From her perch on the edge of the bed, she wrinkled her nose. “Guess the nurses told you I get to go home, but Noelle and Hope are staying.”

      He nodded. “Nurse Helen said this jaundice thing is fairly common.”

      “Oh, she did, did she?” What had been Helen’s support group initiation number? Eleven? “You two getting cozy?”

      “Jealous?”

      Yes!

      No! Of course not!

      Seeing