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Colorful helium balloons bobbed from ribbons anchored to every conceivable surface. Streamers were draped from the corners of the room, some of them dangling straight down from the ceiling, making a sort of obstacle course that the kids seemed to love. The tables were covered with cloths that had been sprinkled with shimmering confetti. One long table was weighed down with food and beverages. The dance floor was lit from above with rainbow lighting, and the tunes were being played by a professional disc jockey. A professional DJ for twelve-year-olds?
Yes, quite a bit of money had been paid out for this affair.
Sloan was surprised by the number of children milling around. One group of kids ambled by him, and not one of them even acknowledged him with a look, let alone a verbal greeting. Ah, well, he thought, they were off in their own world. A world that didn’t include chaperones. He chuckled to himself.
He was feeling so…odd. And he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.
Lighthearted. Gleeful, even. The music was deafening, yes, and the pop tunes were definitely not his favorite style. But he’d found himself tapping his toes to the beat a time or two.
However, along with this peculiar breeziness, he also felt a sense of foreboding. He couldn’t help thinking that something was about to happen. Often he was struck by a feeling of premonition. And when he got that feeling, it usually wasn’t long before he received a call from his answering service with a message from a patient who needed him. He hated the idea of being called away from the triplets’ big night out. But if that were to happen, Rachel was here to save the day—or rather, the evening—for the girls.
Yes, something strange was in the air. That was certain. And he was struck by yet another odd sensation—that whatever it was had something to do with Rachel.
The thought of her had him scanning the room. It took no time at all to find her in the crowd. In fact, it was almost as if his subconscious had been keeping tabs on Rachel’s location—and the location of his daughters—ever since the five of them had arrived.
As usual, Rachel had pitched in right away, helping Mrs. Fox with various jobs. She’d laughed with the kids, who didn’t seem to ignore her the way they ignored him. She’d even dragged some of the girls and boys out onto the dance floor when no one had seemed willing to start the party rolling. Her shoulders had shimmied as she’d danced, her fanny swaying to the rhythm of the music. That sight had had him suppressing a smile, and reaching to loosen the collar of his shirt.
Even now, as he thought of it, his toe began to tap lightly, a grin tugging at one corner of his mouth. He could almost feel his blood pressure rising, although Rachel was no longer dancing, but filling up cups with punch for some thirsty adolescents.
Lord, she sure looked good—
“Dr. Radcliff—”
Sloan started, not realizing just how mesmerized he’d become by his surveillance of Rachel—by his surveillance of everyone, he silently and swiftly corrected the thought. It was his job to chaperone, wasn’t it?
“Mrs. Fox,” he said, greeting her with a nod.
“Please call me Virginia. Our daughters have been friends for too long for us to be so formal.”
He smiled. “All right, Virginia. And you can call me Sloan.”
“I’d love to.”
The unexpected sultry quality of her voice made him pause. Then he said, “Great party you’ve put on here. The kids are really enjoying themselves.”
“You think so?”
Anxiety tinged her blue eyes, clouding them a little. Again, he nodded his assurance.
“I came over—”
Her hand slid over his forearm as she spoke, and Sloan was engulfed by the urge to step away from the woman. Even though he didn’t back up an inch, she still moved closer to him, almost as if she sensed his impulse to retreat.
“—to thank you for coming to help,” she purred. Her smile was so warm it could have melted asphalt. He was actually taken aback. He was struck by the thought that Virginia Fox was some kind of Amazon huntress—and he was most definitely the prey. He’d never actually been made to feel like wild game before, caught in the crosshairs. This was a first.
She cast a quick glance over her shoulder and then turned to face him again, whispering, “After the party, do you think you might like to go out—” another covert scan of the room “—and have a drink?”
He did lean away from her now as he tried to control his astonishment.
“Won’t it be awfully late?” The question rolled from his tongue before he could think of anything else to say. “Besides, my girls will need me to…I’ll need to see that they…”
He was flabbergasted by the woman’s suggestion. They both had children that needed tending. How could she think he could leave them home alone in the middle of the night?
She waved away his pitiful excuses. “You can get that secretary of yours—what’s her name? Raquel?—to take care of them for you.” Virginia cast another glance around the party. “She seems nice enough. Competent, even.” The woman’s voice dropped an octave as she added, “If you like the flamboyant type, that is.”
Flamboyant? Rachel?
Sloan wanted to burst out laughing.
Granted, Rachel’s hair was a little wild tonight. But everyone was allowed to let their hair down every now and then, weren’t they? And, yes, that dress…The mere thought of it had him mentally shaking his head in wonder. If the black-and-silver fabric had any sense at all it would be deliriously happy to be snuggling against Rachel’s luscious curves.
He was definitely losing his grip. These sexual thoughts about his office manager were growing more curious and more unrestrained as the evening wore on.
Virginia’s hand slid up his arm, her fingers squeezing his biceps suggestively.
“Come on,” she breathed. “Having a drink together will be fun.”
He’d met Debbie’s mother at school functions a few times, but she’d never approached him in such an intimate manner before. He hated to hurt the woman’s feelings, but he just wasn’t interested—
“Hey, Dad.”
Sloan had never been happier to see anyone in all his born days as he was to see Sophie right now. Rachel was with his daughter, and Sloan seized the opportunity to extricate himself from Virginia’s possessive clutches.
“Hi, honey,” Sloan greeted his daughter. “You having a good time?”
“Yeah.” She cut her eyes up at Mrs. Fox who took a backward step, at least having enough sense to look chagrined. “Thanks for the party, Mrs. F.”
“Why, you’re welcome…which one are you?” She then laughed nervously as she looked at Sloan. “I can never tell your girls apart.”
“I’m Sophie,” his daughter provided.
Her mind obviously on other things, Virginia ignored the child completely, plastered on a smile and commented without much enthusiasm, “Why, look, Raquel brought us some punch. How nice.”
“It’s Rachel,” Sophie automatically corrected. “And the punch is for Dad.”
Rachel smiled apologetically at the woman. Handing the cup to Sloan, she said, “Sophie thought you might be thirsty.”
After a little shuffling that his daughter had seemed to initiate, Sloan found himself standing close to Rachel. Very close.
Rachel looked down at Sophie. “There’s plenty of room. No need to crowd your father.”
“Thanks,” he said. He looked down into the red fruity drink, but the awkwardness of the moment kept him from enjoying a sip.
Then Sophie blurted, “Dad, are you planning to dance tonight?”
He grinned down at her. “Is that an invitation?”
“Ick! No way!” she screeched. Then she let out a snort of laughter. “The kids really would think I’m a geek if I danced with my father. Bobby’s waiting for me.” She smiled up at him. “I thought you might like to ask Rachel.”
What an idea! he thought. He could have hugged Sophie for giving him a great excuse for escaping Virginia—and the perfect justification for holding Rachel in his arms. At that very moment, he realized that was what he’d been wanting to do ever since she’d shown up on his doorstep looking gorgeous.
“Thanks for the suggestion, honey,” he told his daughter. Then he teased, “But…are the chaperones allowed to dance? I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.”
“Just so long as you don’t start acting goofy,” was Sophie’s response.
He chuckled. “I promise to restrain myself.” Then he looked at Rachel, “Would you like to dance?”
Her honey-brown eyes filled with pleasant surprise, and she nodded.
He grinned at her, then turned to Virginia. “Here. Enjoy this while I’m gone.”
Then, leaving the blonde holding his punch cup with her red-painted mouth partly open in disbelief, he led Rachel toward the dance floor.
Chapter Three
Heaven couldn’t be more wonderful than this. Cradled in Sloan’s strong, protective arms, Rachel felt as if she were in paradise. The slow music wrapped around them, enfolded them in the most sensuous rhythm imaginable.
She’d known Sloan for years, so it wasn’t as if they’d never had the opportunity to be close. She was the godmother of his daughters. His deceased wife’s best friend. She’d helped him nurse Olivia until the bitter end. And she worked with him daily as she managed his medical office. She supposed he considered her his friend—although she’d always wanted to be so much more than that. However, being friends meant they celebrated nearly every holiday together. There were birthday hugs and Christmas kisses, quick displays of friendly affection that always took place in the blink of an eye. The number of times that the two of them had slow-danced together could be counted on one of Rachel’s hands.
At Sloan’s wedding—oh-so-many years ago—Rachel had found herself in his arms…and it had been the most awkward moment she’d ever lived through. The circumstances had been tense. For everyone concerned. Rachel could close her eyes right now and easily remember the strain visible on Sloan’s handsome face on the day he had wed Olivia. Rachel’s heart had ached for him, and she’d been furious with Olivia and her conniving ways. No one deserved the treatment she had inflicted on—
Sloan’s hand slid down the length of Rachel’s back, nestling lightly on the curve of her spine, causing her heart to flutter, and knocking her out of the awful reverie of the past. Rachel hated the silly, schoolgirl reaction that overwhelmed her each and every time she was near Sloan. You’d think her physical response to him would have diminished with time, especially since he didn’t seem to be affected by her—attracted to her—in the least. However, the emotions that stirred in her when she was near him hadn’t abated one bit over the years. Not one tiny bit.
Defeating the silly feelings had been impossible. She’d tried hard to do just that. By ignoring them. Mentally stomping on them. Ranting and raving against them when she was all alone in her apartment, among other things. Nothing had worked. Nothing. So she’d simply decided to suffer them in silence.
Again, his fingers played over the small of her back. She was so conscious of his touch. It was rare that she felt his hands on her.
The warmth of his skin through the fabric of her dress made her pulse heat. Her stomach seemed to twist and turn in somersaults, but she did her best to keep her gaze averted, focusing on moving smoothly across the floor and not stepping on his toes. That would be embarrassing.
Something stirred her consciousness. He was staring at her, willing her to lift her gaze to his. She could sense it. Strongly. Excitement skittered across her nerve endings like so many pinpricks. She tried to tamp it down, but it was a fruitless effort.
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