Twin Ties, Twin Joys: The Boss's Double Trouble Twins / Twins for a Christmas Bride / Baby Twins: Parents Needed

Twin Ties,

Twin Joys

The Boss’s Double Trouble Twins Raye Morgan

Twins For A Christmas Bride Josie Metcalfe

Baby Twins: Parents Needed Teresa Carpenter

www.millsandboon.co.uk

The Boss’s Double Trouble Twins

Raye Morgan

Dear Reader,

A tough guy from an old romance showing up on your doorstep, a past in Paris, a present in Texas, and a pair of adorable twins in your life—sometimes I wish I didn’t just write these things. How fun to actually live them!

On second thought, the emotional highs and lows would surely wear me out pretty quickly. Much better to read about them than try to untangle them in your own life. That is exactly what makes fiction so much fun!

I hope you enjoy the ups and downs of the romance of Darcy Connors and Mitch Carver. Love those Texas guys!

Happy reading!

Raye Morgan

RAYE MORGAN is a fool for romance—even in her own family. With four grown sons, love, or at least heavy-duty friendship, is constantly in the air. Two sons have recently married—that leaves two more to go, and lots of romantic turmoil to feed the idea machine. Raye has published over seventy romances and claims to have many more waiting in the wings. Though she’s lived in Holland, Guam and Washington, DC, she currently makes her home in Southern California with her husband and the occasional son. When not writing, she can be found feverishly working on family genealogy and scrap-booking. So many pictures—so little time!

To the harried but happy mothers of twins everywhere.

CHAPTER ONE

MITCH CARVER hesitated as he came into the bright, shiny new chrome and glass office he’d been assigned. Everything in him was rebelling. How many times had he vowed he would never work here in his family’s company? And yet, here he was.

He swore softly to himself, looking at the huge desk, the sleek computer, the neatly stacked books—the shackles of a businessman’s life. And then he caught sight of himself in the reflection from the floor-to-ceiling window. He was wearing a suit, for God’s sake. The hair that was usually long and untamed, the better to let him slip unnoticed into life on the wild side, had been trimmed short and neat. The beard and mustache were gone. It had been years since he’d looked so conventional. And he hated it.

“You win again, Dad,” he muttered dryly. But only for one year. That was all he’d promised.

A sound turned his head. It was coming from what he assumed must be his new executive lounge. He stared at the closed door. He’d been told this entire floor was empty—a clean slate he was to fill with his own entrepreneurial genius, such as it was. Something—or someone—had been overlooked. There seemed to be humming going on.

A feminine voice sang out, low and bluesy.

Mitch cocked an eyebrow. This was interesting. The voice was incredibly sexy.

Then her voice trailed off as though she’d forgotten the words.

He bit back a grin. There was definitely a woman in his brand-new washroom. A stowaway. Maybe a squatter. And if she looked anything like she sounded … The hair on his arms was bristling—always a good sign.

Surely she hadn’t been left here on purpose, just for him. But you never did know. This bore looking into and was certainly more interesting than any business he was going to be conducting today.

“Hello,” he called out.

There was no answer, but suddenly a weird hush hung in the air.

“Who’s there?” he tried again.

Nothing. He frowned. He couldn’t leave it at that.

“I’m coming in,” he warned, waited a moment for a response, then tried the door. It opened to his touch and there stood a young woman, dripping wet and naked except for a fat, fluffy towel, which was slipping precariously.

“Hey!” she cried, reaching quickly to stop the towel’s impending dive toward the cold tile floor.

“You!” he said in turn, wondering for a fraction of a second if he was dreaming. This was a face, after all, that had haunted his sleep for months a year or so ago. A face—and a body—he couldn’t forget, even while slogging his way through the Brazilian rain forest or trekking past the hidden villages that dotted the foothills of the Himalayas. He’d known her for how long? Less than forty-eight hours. And yet, out of all the women he’d ever met, she’d stuck in his thoughts like … like the refrain of a low, bluesy song you couldn’t get out of your mind.

Yeah, he told himself cynically. A guilty conscience will do that to you.

Guilty for treating a woman such as this like a one-night-stand. Guilty for seducing a woman whose relationship to an old friend had never been made exactly clear. Guilty for letting a strong attraction take over and push away all concerns about anything but his own raging desire. He could try to blame it on the exotic intoxication of a Paris night, but he knew very well it had been his own fault. She’d bewitched him, but he’d asked for it.

“Mitch Carver?” she said, dark eyes wide with shock.

He grimaced. The feeling was mutual. No one liked to face a reminder of his own weakness.

“Darcy Connors,” he recalled, noting her confirmation as she nodded, looking numb. “Did I get the wrong office?” he asked her quizzically. “Or are you just passing through?”

She was still staring at him as though she were seeing a ghost.

He shrugged. “Never mind. I’m always happy to share with an old … uh … friend,” he said, silently cursing himself for hesitating before the word. “Carry on. I’ll just go and …”

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, clutching the towel up to her chin. “I thought you said you’d never come back to Texas.”

He wasn’t any happier to see her than she was to see him, but he was beginning to feel she was overdoing it a bit. The tragic look she was giving him was hardly fair. After all, he wasn’t an ax murderer or anything like that.

“I’ve said a lot of things I shouldn’t have in my time,” he admitted. “Things change. Sometimes you’ve got to eat a little crow. See this?” He gestured toward his mouth. “Covered with feathers at the moment. That was one tough bird.”

She frowned as though she was still too surprised at seeing him to get his little joke. He took in all of her, the dripping hair, the shimmering drops on her thick eyelashes, the creamy skin and those long, lovely, silky legs he remembered from that moonlit night.

That unforgettable moonlit night. For just a moment it flooded back, the soft air, the sound of water parting as the Bateau Mouche moved along the Seine, a distant jazz singer, notes from an accordion, lights making patterns against a set of statues, trees, wrought-iron balconies. She’d shivered slightly and he’d put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to keep off the chill. She’d curled up against him and whispered something and he’d laughed, catching her scent and turning….

Wow. Snap out of it, he told himself sharply, remembering exactly why this woman was so dangerous to him. For some reason she’d appealed to his senses in a basic, primal way he couldn’t ignore. And looking at her now, he knew nothing had changed. Everything about her seemed to tug at his libido.

And that just didn’t make any sense. She wasn’t his type at all. She had “happily ever after” written all over her. And he was a “here today, gone tomorrow” type of guy. Oil and water. They didn’t mix well and it was dangerous to try. At least that was the way it was in his world.

“So you’re not in France anymore,” he noted.

She stared at him so intensely, he almost took a step backward, and at the same time, he realized there was one thing that had changed. She’d fallen for him that night just as hard as he’d tumbled for her. He’d seen it in her eyes, felt it in every move she made. But that was all gone now. Her gaze was wary and speculative. Her body language was defensive. She looked like a woman who expected to be under attack. And she definitely wished he hadn’t shown up on her doorstep.

That triggered his curiosity. He knew why he wanted to stay away from her. But why did she want to stay away from him? Was she angry that he hadn’t tried to contact her in the last two years? Or did it have something to do with that same guilt he was feeling?

“No, I’m not in France anymore,” she admitted. “I transferred to Atlanta first, but they needed me here, so I packed up again and moved to the San Antonio area. And here I am, in Terra Dulce.”

Here she was. Which meant they were going to be working in near proximity for the next year. He nodded, not really sure why that gave him such a feeling of foreboding. After all, when you came right down to it, they hardly knew each other. Just because they’d shared that one night in Paris didn’t mean they had to be buddies. They didn’t have to see each other socially just because they had both landed back in the same town. They would probably just greet each other in the halls now and then and leave it at that. He wasn’t going to be here all that long, anyway. Keep it casual. That was the ticket.

“I heard about what happened to Jimmy,” he said softly, mentioning the friend whose Paris apartment was the place he and Darcy had met. Jimmy had been killed in a race car incident just days after Mitch had left France for Brazil. “Sorry I didn’t hear in time to make the funeral.”

She looked nonplussed for a moment, then nodded.

He could have said more. He could have explained that he was in a South American jail about the time Jimmy was being eulogized, not sure if he was going to make it out alive himself. Of course, he obviously had been released. The odd time in various jails was just one of the minor drawbacks of his chosen line of work. But that seemed a bit much to lay on her at the moment.

Jimmy had been their tie, and at the same time, what might now stand between them. Mitch and Jimmy had been childhood friends. They’d lost touch after high school, but he’d heard that Jimmy was working in Paris, and when he was passing through, he’d looked him up. He’d found his old friend changed and a bit distant, but he’d also found Darcy. She was living with Jimmy but it was never clear to him just what their relationship was, and he had to admit, he hadn’t really wanted to know. She had seemed eager to get out of the tiny, cramped apartment so the two of them had left Jimmy behind and taken in the sights and sounds of the French city. Very quickly it had been as though Jimmy didn’t exist. For the next day and a half, they had been so wrapped up in each other, nothing else seemed to matter.

“He was a great guy,” he said gruffly.

She winced, then nodded again, biting her lip. “Yes. It was a shame.” But after a moment, she was issuing a significant look his way. “Do you mind?” she said, nodding toward her towel.

“Oh. Sure. Sorry.” He started to close the door, then stopped. “Wait a minute. You haven’t told me what you’re doing here. I thought this was my new office.”

She blinked at him, searching for words. “I … uh …” She shrugged helplessly. “I was the victim of an industrial accident. One of our financial department geniuses dumped his café latte on me.”

He stared at her. “From head to toe?” he asked, noting her wet hair.

She nodded. “He was on the second floor catwalk and I was down in the lobby….”

“Okay. I get the picture.” He couldn’t resist a quick grin. “He must have been really mad at you.”

She opened her mouth, obviously to protest his characterization of the incident, but he held up a hand. “Never mind. I’ll leave you to your grooming tasks. Nice to see you again, Darcy.”

She’d been turning away but her head snapped back around at that, as though she thought she might have caught a joking reference to her too-revealing appearance and she glared as he quickly closed the door.

Once outside, he stopped for a moment, like a man checking out his body parts after a risky maneuver. Everything was still in one piece. Everything, that was, except his peace of mind. It looked like he was going to have Darcy Connors back in his life, one way or another. And that was something he hadn’t counted on. When he’d agreed to come back and work in his family’s company he had assumed Darcy was still in Paris. It hadn’t occurred to him that she might be working at the home office.

He took a deep breath and told himself things would be different. He wasn’t passing through on his way to danger and adventure this time. He had other things on his mind and a better perspective. He wasn’t going to let a provocative woman tangle up his emotions. He would keep his libido in check.

But damn! It wasn’t going to be easy. There was something about that woman that appealed to him in ways he didn’t understand. And that low, sexy voice just knocked him out. It appealed to him in ways he understood too well.

Steady, he warned himself.

Straightening his tie, he started for the elevator. He didn’t want to be standing here waiting when she emerged.

Darcy was in shock. Mitch Carver was back. The man who had been unreachable, unfindable and unfathomable for the last two years was suddenly back and very much available, and that meant she was finally going to have to do what she’d been unable to do all this time—tell him about the twins.

Of course she had to tell him. But … A feeling very like panic fluttered in her chest. Yes, she was going to tell him, but not right now. She wasn’t ready. She hadn’t prepared. She’d pretty much accepted that it might never be possible to tell him. And now, suddenly, it was. So how was she going to do this?

She groaned, her shoulders slumping. If only she’d had some warning. Lately it seemed everything came at her so fast, she was never ready. And that meant she always seemed to do the wrong thing. Like this morning. Knowing the office was empty and unused, she’d been sure she would have time for a quick shower before anyone even noticed her missing from her desk on the second floor. And what happened? Mitch Carver showed up to catch her at it. Of all people! She’d never dreamed that could happen.

When she’d heard a Mr. Carver was coming in to take over Property Acquisitions, she’d assumed it was Craig Carver, Mitch’s cousin, who she’d heard was transferring from the Dallas branch of the family firm. She’d never met Craig. Unfortunately she couldn’t say the same about Mitch.

Closing her eyes, she swayed in silent agony. How was she going to do this? How was she going to tell this man she barely knew that he was the father of her two children? That what had seemed like a romantic interlude, a chance encounter, a fleeting intimacy, had turned into a lifetime commitment? One mistake, one night of letting down her legendary guard, a one-time retreat from a lifetime of caution, and she was destined to pay the price forever. And so was he.

Not that her babies weren’t worth it. She couldn’t even think about them without smiling. They were her joy, her life. But their father was her dilemma and her complication. And now she had to tell this man who had made no secret of his determination never to settle down, never to live a conventional life, that he had a pair of anchors, whether he liked it or not.

She knew he wouldn’t be happy about it. Would he hate her? Hate them? It was clear he wouldn’t want to let anything as mundane as children get in the way of his work. She wasn’t real clear on just what he did out there in the world. She had the impression he went where people paid for his services, but she was also pretty sure he spent more time using his brain than his brawn. Nevertheless, there was plenty of danger involved, and she knew from what he’d told her that the excitement was intoxicating to him. He loved it. So what was he doing here?

A speedy wipe-down with the towel and then she was slipping into the fresh clothes her friend Marty had supplied: a jersey top and a cute denim skirt. Both were a little large for her slim figure, but they would do.

She rolled the soggy dress she’d worn to work that day in the towel, fluffed her shoulder-length blond hair under the wall hair dryer for a few minutes and peeked out into the office to see who was there.

No one. Super. In just moments she was back on her own floor, her own desk in her sights, when someone called from behind.

“Hey, Darcy!”

It was Kevin, he of the errant café latte. She kept walking, but he caught up with her.

“Hey, I really, really am sorry.”

He looked sorry. He was young and bright and he seemed to have something of a crush on her, but he certainly did look sorry.

“Forget it,” she said shortly, reaching out to pick up the papers filling her in-box.

“Really Darcy, it was an accident. I just leaned over the rail to look at you and the cup slipped and …”

“Sure, Kevin. I understand. Don’t think another thing about it.” She began riffling through the papers, though she didn’t see a thing. She was wondering where Mitch was—mainly so that she could avoid him. She needed time to think.

“I’d love to make it up to you, Darcy,” Kevin was saying, looking puppy-dog hopeful. “I thought maybe I could take you out to …”

Kevin’s suggested destination was to remain forever unknown. Before he got the name out, the elevator doors across from her office opened and Bill Monroe, her amiable boss, stepped into their conversation.

“My office, Darcy,” he said, cocking a stern forefinger her way. “Right now.”

“But …” She glanced at the clock on the wall over the elevator. “I really don’t have time this morning. I’m running a little late and I’ve got people waiting for some research I’ve been doing and—”

“Forget that,” Bill said flatly. “I need to talk to you right away.”

There was a grim look on his normally jovial face as he headed for his office. Kevin shrugged dejectedly and disappeared down the stairs. Darcy sighed, stowed her things away and looked up to find Mitch coming toward her.

“Oh, hi,” she said awkwardly. It gave her quite a start to have him casually turning up where she wasn’t used to seeing him. It also gave her an opportunity to really look at him, and for a moment, that was what she did.

He looked so different, it was a wonder she’d recognized him right away. She flashed back to that weekend in Paris and what he’d looked like then. She’d been sharing a small place with Jimmy ever since she’d arrived in Paris. Apartments were impossible to find in the area near where they both worked at the same company. Their mothers had been best friends, so they’d known each other forever, and it had seemed only natural to share a place.

When she’d heard that Mitch was dropping by, she’d had a few seconds of excitement before she’d reminded herself that he wasn’t coming to see her. He probably didn’t even remember who she was. So when the doorbell had rung, she’d gone to let him in, not expecting much but pleased to be seeing someone from home. Opening the door, she’d found him standing there and her world had fallen out of the sky.

He’d been completely wild, totally exotic, like a fictional hero. His hair was a long, thick tangle framing his outrageously handsome face. His body had been spectacularly displayed in a tight, clinging shirt and torn jeans that molded to his muscular legs like something that had grown to cover him. He was reeking with attitude and looked like a young freedom fighter, a rebel, a revolutionary, ducking in out of the street to evade a pursuer. Even now, the memory of how provocatively fine he’d looked took her breath away.

She’d fallen for him like a ton of bricks, right there in the doorway to Jimmy’s tiny flat. Not that it should have been surprising. After all, even though she hadn’t seen him for years, she’d had a crush on him since she’d been a child. Of course, he’d never noticed her in those days.

Only, this time he did.

“Hey,” he’d said, looking deep into her eyes. “Hey yourself,” she’d said back, looking dreamily into his.

“What’s your name?” he’d asked, proving her theory.

“Darcy,” she’d responded, just as glad he didn’t remember the awkward girl who’d mooned after him in the old days.

“I’m Mitch.”

“I know.”

He’d smiled and she’d swooned toward him.

“Want to run away with me?” he asked her softly, leaning even closer.

She’d nodded without hesitation, knowing it was just banter, but answering in all sincerity. “Yes,” she whispered.

His gaze had seemed to devour her hungrily and for one long moment, she’d lost herself in his blue eyes.

“Hey, Mitch,” Jimmy had called out from the kitchen. “You finally got here.”

And she’d pulled back, thinking the moment was over, that the relationship between the two men would be the focus of the rest of the day. But she’d been wrong. The magic that had sparked between them didn’t fade. As soon as they got the chance, they’d gone out into the city together, and things had gone from pure delight to rapture.

At first she’d looked on that exciting weekend as a mistake, but one that was just too delicious to really regret—a romantic episode she would treasure forever. It seemed the kind of thing you read about in books or saw in movies. He’d come into her life at just the moment she had felt most lost and lonely and reminded her of what joy in living could be like—and then he’d gone.

And then she’d realized she was pregnant.

She watched as he approached her now, looking so clean-cut and handsome—not a rebel at all. But she knew that exciting body still lay under the suit coat and hints of that crazy untamed spirit still lurked in his eyes if you looked hard enough. The packaging had changed, but he was still the same guy.

Was she still the same girl? Not on your life.

CHAPTER TWO

“WHAT are you doing on this floor?” Darcy asked for lack of anything better to say.

Mitch shrugged. “I got a message from Bill Monroe.” He noted the startled look on her face in reaction to that news. “You, too?”

She nodded. A feeling of dread was beginning to build inside her. If this was what she thought it might be …

He inclined his head. “Lead on, McDuff,” he muttered.

She bit her lip and led the way into her boss’s office. Bill rose and shook hands with Mitch, murmuring a greeting. Still standing, he got to the point.

“Darcy, I hate to lose you. But you’ve been assigned to the new department Mitch will be heading.”

She blanched, though by now she’d been expecting this very thing. “What?” She shook her head.

Surely this wasn’t written in stone yet. “No.” She turned to Mitch appealingly. “No!” Surely he would do something to stop this.

And he looked as though he wanted to. “Interesting,” he said. “But there’s been some mistake. You see, I won’t need an assistant. I’ve already got a secretary picked out and—”

“Darcy isn’t a secretary. She’s a property analyst. And her area of expertise resides smack dab in the center of your new project.” Bill dropped an armful of folders on the desk as though that settled the matter. “You can take these with you.”

Darcy’s heart sank. That meant Mitch was taking over the Bermuda Woods development. She’d been working on that one for months. There was no way she was going to get out of this, was there? She stared into Mitch’s eyes and he stared right back into hers. She’d forgotten how gorgeous those eyes were, deep blue and dangerous as the sky on a stormy day. Those eyes were the first thing that had intrigued her when she’d met him in Paris. She winced.