“Why are you here, Lucy?” Nick asked quietly

“I need help.”

The words were offered so grudgingly that he might have smiled if she’d been anyone else.

“From me?” he blurted out in disbelief. A short bark of laughter escaped before he could stop it. “As I recall, we didn’t exactly part on good terms. Let’s see, you told me you were choosing your job over me, then you ran for the exit.”

A flush spread up her neck and over her cheeks. “What happened in the past is hardly relevant.”

“It seemed damned relevant to me at the time,” he countered.

“You’ve got to hear me out,” Lucy said urgently. “Please.” She reached into her pocket and withdrew a photograph.

It took a moment for Nick to absorb what he was seeing. The photo was of two children placed close enough together that their bodies touched and appeared to be entwined. No, not entwined.

Conjoined.

Bit by bit, the significance of Lucy’s visit began to sink in. Nick knew instinctively that she hadn’t come to him merely for advice. She wanted more than that. Much more.

Dear Reader,

The premise for The Miracle Twins came to me while I spent a week in the intermediate care nursery at a local hospital with my first daughter. I was so impressed by the many doctors and nurses who had dedicated their careers to the welfare of children. Even more touching were the doting parents who spent countless hours rocking these tiny infants or keeping watch over high-tech isolettes until the day they were allowed to bring their children home.

I hope you enjoy The Miracle Twins. My readers have been a source of so much joy to me. I want to thank you for all the support you’ve sent my way.

All best,

Lisa Bingham

The Miracle Twins

Lisa Bingham

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To my own miracle children and the three incredible birth mothers who gave them life.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Epilogue

Chapter One

As she settled into a taxi and left the Salt Lake City International Airport behind her, Lucy Devon decided that she didn’t appreciate life’s little ironies. No matter how hard she tried to make thoughtful, well-planned decisions, her mistakes had a way of coming back to haunt her. “Never say never,” her mother had been fond of quoting. “God is always listening.”

“Too true, Mom,” Lucy whispered under her breath as the cab began to climb upward toward the eastern bench of the Wasatch Mountains.

From this vantage point, she had a beautiful view of the city. As dusk fell, lights began to twinkle like gold dust in the gathering gloom. If she tried hard enough, Lucy was sure she could find the tall, copper-colored building where she’d completed her journalism internship as a graduate student at the University of Utah. The university was where she and Nick Hammond had first met and fallen in love. And it was over there, a few more blocks to the east, that she’d decided marrying him would ruin all chances of furthering her career.

Dear God, had she really gone to the courthouse just before their wedding to tell him she was rejecting him in favor of “the story of a lifetime”?

Even now, the thought of those few tempestuous minutes could make her squirm in embarrassment and shame. Try as she might, she hadn’t been able to wipe away the memory of the expressions that had come over his face one after the other: disbelief, disgust and then anger. After making her escape, Lucy had sworn that, as long as she lived, she would never see Nick again. She wouldn’t go even a hundred miles near the place Nick lived and worked.

“But God has other plans,” she breathed.

“Did you say something, miss?” the cabdriver asked, glancing over his shoulder.

Lucy grimaced. “No. Just talking to myself.”

The man chose to let the comment pass. “You got family you’re visiting here in town?”

She made a noncommittal noise.

“That’s nice,” the driver said absently, his attention on the road.

Nice wasn’t exactly the word Lucy would have used to explain her current predicament. She would’ve done anything to avoid the upcoming meeting.

The cabdriver pointed to a house on the corner. “That’s the address up there.”

The taxi pulled to a stop at the curb, and Lucy peered through the window. Lights blazed from the house and the distant thump of music could be heard over the running engine.

The driver ducked to see the brass numbers bolted to the cottage-style rock home perched on a slight knoll. “Yep. This is it.”

“How much do I owe you?” Lucy asked, opening her purse.

“Eleven-fifty.”

She gave him fifteen dollars with a murmured, “Keep the change.” Then, opening the door, she ignored her twisting stomach and stepped onto the verdant strip of grass that bordered the curb. After a moment’s pause, the taxi rolled away, then disappeared entirely behind a bend in the road.

Instantly, Lucy felt oh, so alone.

A soft breeze caressed her cheek, the cool, moist air a harbinger of spring. As she walked up the terraced path, Lucy noticed that the trees were still skeletal. But the fuzzy tips of a pussy willow near the front stoop gave ample testimony that winter was losing its grip. Lucy had always loved spring. In her mind, it was a time for new beginnings.

So why was she about to dredge up the past?

Making a face, Lucy knew she’d had little choice. Nick Hammond was a spectacular surgeon, and right now she needed his skills.

What will he think when he sees me on his doorstep? Will he smile?

“More likely, he’ll kick you off the premises,” she told herself. Then, knowing there was no point in avoiding the inevitable, she started up the steps.

So much had happened to bring her to this point—and so much rested on the next few minutes. There was no plan B. If Nick refused to help her, she didn’t know what she’d do.

He had to help her. Nick had never been a petty man. He wouldn’t send her away without hearing her out.

At least…she hoped he wouldn’t send her away.

As she lifted her hand to ring the bell, Lucy prayed she could keep her wits about her for just a little longer. Her temples throbbed from a killer case of jet lag. Worse yet, she was trapped in a time warp; her mind moved sluggishly and her motor skills were only slightly better.

Don’t think about that now. Think about the children and only the children.

Straightening her shoulders in renewed determination she passed a hand over her short hair, and pressed the doorbell. From deep within the house, she could hear the sound reverberating.

As she waited for the door to be answered, Lucy recited the same litany she’d repeated a thousand times since leaving Africa. Nick is a reasonable man. A professional. Once you’ve explained your predicament, he’s bound to help you. He would never let the past interfere.

Or would he?

They hadn’t parted on the best of terms. Nick had felt humiliated, while Lucy—

When Lucy had turned to walk away from Nick, the judge and the witnesses, Lucy had seen the main door like a trapped animal who’d spied a hole in the fence. The moment she was out of sight of the wedding party, she’d started to run.

And she’d been running from the memory ever since.

No. She wouldn’t think about that now. The past was past, and the decision she’d made to cancel her wedding had been the right one. Lucy wasn’t the “marrying kind”—and she’d proven that to herself time and time again. She grew jittery and uncomfortable if she stayed in one place too long. The pressures of her job, the travel and risk involved, didn’t lend themselves to even the most casual of relationships, let alone marriage.

Wrenching her thoughts back to the matter at hand, Lucy scowled. Lights blazed from most of the windows. Yet several minutes had gone by and no one had appeared.

Ringing the doorbell again, Lucy cursed the fact that she hadn’t asked the cabdriver to wait. With her luck, she’d come all this way only to be marooned until Nick returned from some emergency at the hospital. True, she had her cell phone, but after gathering enough courage to face Nick tonight, she didn’t plan on leaving until she’d seen him.

Irritated, Lucy pressed the doorbell a third time, keeping her finger on the button for several seconds. Then she punctuated her imperious summons by banging the brass door knocker.

“Where is he?” she muttered.

Abruptly she froze, knowing that any minute the door would open and she would be face-to-face with Nick Hammond, the only man who’d ever made her knees quake.

What would be her reaction after all these years? Would she still feel an instant tug of attraction?

No. It wasn’t possible. Too much time had passed. She wasn’t the same woman she’d been then. Her experiences had hardened her. She couldn’t possibly—

The door flew open and Lucy’s heart stopped in her chest, then began a slow, sluggish beat.

This was the man she’d refused to marry?

A hot tide seeped into her cheeks and she was infused with embarrassment. She’d obviously interrupted Nick in the middle of a shower. He stood before her wearing nothing but a robe, his hair dark and spiky with moisture. Water dappled his bare skin, stray droplets streaking his chest.

A bolt of heat shot through her body and settled low in her abdomen. She swallowed against the dryness gathering in her throat, knowing that if she tried to talk, her voice would emerge as a croak.

“Lucy?”

Her name was a mere breath of sound, but it brushed her senses like a caress.

Talk to him, idiot. Say something. You can’t stand here gaping at the man.

“Nick.” His name was garbled and barely audible, and she cleared her throat. “Hello.”

To his credit, Nick kept his composure. In fact, other than the slight tightening of his fingers around his belt, he appeared completely unaffected by her sudden arrival. His features smoothed into an expressionless mask and his eyes became hooded, giving nothing away.

Why didn’t he say something? Why did he keep looking at her as if she had suddenly appeared from an alien planet?

Lucy thrust her hands into the pockets of her jacket, shivering in the cool spring air. But it wasn’t the chill of spring that caused her skin to tingle. As his gaze slipped down her body, gooseflesh pebbled her skin. Lucy tried to meet his inspection with one of her own, but as she absorbed the sight of his nearly naked body, she knew she would be a fool to continue. Her mind might insist that she was over her college infatuation, but her body had a different idea.

Fastening her eyes on the faint cleft in his chin, she refused to look down. She was only concerned with his mind and his hands, the main tools of a surgeon.

Liar.

When the silence grew even more uncomfortable, Lucy said, “Are you going to let me in?”

Nick’s gaze intensified—as if he was trying to divine the reason for her sudden appearance. But finally he stepped back, making a sweeping gesture with his arm.

“Be my guest.”

Lucy brushed past him into a narrow entry hall. As she did so, she was inundated with the scents of shampoo and soap.

Not for the first time, Lucy rued the fact that she’d been forced to come to Nick for help. She’d investigated several other surgeons. But whenever she’d reviewed her list, she’d known that Nick was her only real choice.

So she’d taken a flight to Salt Lake City, insisting to herself that the past didn’t have any bearing on her current mission. She’d eventually begun to believe that she could deal with Nick in a manner that was both friendly and detached.

But now she wasn’t so sure.

You’re tired, that’s all. Weariness can do funny things to a person.

“Take a seat in the living room.”

He pointed at a small space to her right. White walls and a minimum of furniture offered a slightly neglected appearance—as if Nick spent as little time in his home as she did in her apartment in Chicago. It was a bachelor’s domain, dominated by a huge sound-and-television system, a battered recliner and a table piled high with medical journals. There were no telltale signs of a woman—no bric-a-brac, no photographs, no hint of lace or flowers.

Lucy couldn’t deny that his single status—if she’d guessed correctly—would make matters easier. She was about to infringe on Nick’s time in a completely overbearing way, and she didn’t need a jealous wife impatiently tapping her toe in the background.

Stepping into the sunken living room, Lucy turned to face Nick. Since he’d remained in the entry hall, she was forced to look up, up, before meeting his dark gaze.

“Nice place,” she said, even though the older home wasn’t at all what she’d expected from a successful surgeon. She had been so sure she’d find him living in a mansion above the Avenues, not a cul-de-sac near Westminster College.

“What are you doing here, Lucy?”

So much for chitchat.

She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could utter a sound, he held up one hand.

“No. Wait here. I need to get dressed first.”

Turning on his heel, he’d taken two of the carpeted steps before she asked, “Do you often answer the door in your bathrobe?”

Immediately, she wished she’d kept her mouth shut. As he peered at her over the railing, a tingling awareness shot down her spine. She became uncomfortably conscious of the white terry cloth, which revealed part of his chest and the slick wetness of his skin. Nick’s body was more powerful than she remembered, the muscles sculpted and well defined—yet another reason for her to believe he was unmarried. In her experience, married men usually didn’t have much time to devote to a rigorous training schedule in a gym.

But that didn’t mean he was unattached. There might not be a Mrs. Hammond, but chances were that Nick was involved with someone.

“I was expecting a colleague from the hospital with some urgent reports.”

“I see.” But even though the explanation seemed reasonable, she wondered if he was telling the truth. Maybe Nick was giving her an excuse so that he wouldn’t have to admit he was waiting for someone else. Someone who wouldn’t mind being greeted in such a familiar manner.

She was tempted to blurt out her suspicions, but before she could say a thing, Nick climbed the rest of the stairs and disappeared from view.

“That went well,” she grumbled under her breath.

Removing her hands from her pockets, she wiped them down the legs of her jeans, damning the moisture that revealed her nervousness. Try as she might, she couldn’t push away the image of Nick standing in the stairwell, the overhead light bathing his skin in a layer of gold.

Pull yourself together, Lucy, she inwardly chided. She’d come to Nick to ask him for his help as a surgeon.

He could never be anything more to her than that.

NICK HAMMOND SLAMMED his bedroom door behind him, dropped the robe on the floor and cursed softly under his breath.

When he’d heard the doorbell through the drumming of the shower, Nick hadn’t dreamed that it would be anyone other than Max Garcia. Max was a fellow surgeon who’d wanted a second opinion on the results of some tests for a young patient. If Nick had even thought that Lucy might be waiting on his porch…

She was the last person Nick would’ve expected to see. Five years ago, he’d arrived at the Salt Lake City courthouse intent on marrying her. Lucy’s rejection had been an emotional blow. When he’d watched her disappear, he’d been so sure he’d never see her again.

Since then, he’d done his best to push the unpleasant episode into the vague corners of his memory—a task that had proved more difficult than he’d imagined. Within months of leaving him at the courthouse, Lucy had become one of the prime foreign correspondents with CNC. And for a news junkie like Nick, seeing her face on television had been inevitable.

But he’d never expected to find her here. In his own home.

Realizing that his thoughts were circling like a loop of bad audiotape, Nick dragged on underwear, a faded sweatshirt, jeans, socks and a pair of battered running shoes. Then, after raking his fingers through his short hair, he took a deep, calming breath.

Yes, he’d been stunned to see her, but the surprise was over. So there was no need for his body to maintain the tension it had adopted the moment he’d seen her cool green eyes and angular features. He wasn’t in love with Lucy anymore. In fact, he’d begun to wonder if he’d ever been in love with her. He’d been able to convince himself that his emotional involvement had been like too much wine—a brief, powerful intoxication that had worn off with time. So when his body had immediately slipped into the rush of attraction he’d once experienced in Lucy’s presence, he’d been momentarily taken aback. But he was in control of his thoughts and his emotions now.

Whipping open the door, he hurried down the staircase, only to stop halfway. Lucy stood in his living room, gazing out the window, obviously unaware of his arrival.

For a moment, he was struck by the droop of her shoulders and the protective way she hugged her arms to her chest. In the light streaming from the hall, she seemed pale and much too thin. Her green eyes dominated her face.

“You look like hell, Lucy.”

She started, and he watched as she donned an expression of hauteur.

“It’s nice to see you, too.”

He joined her in the living room. “What have you been doing with yourself?”

She shrugged. “I’m a reporter.”

“I know. I’ve seen you on television. You have a very impressive career.”

“As do you.”

Moving toward her, Nick had the distinct impression that his nearness bothered her. He sensed her tension as the space between them disappeared, but despite her discomfort, she held her ground.

Closer, Nick decided that she looked downright haggard. She was at least ten pounds underweight. Her skin was drawn tightly over her cheekbones, making her features seem that much more angular and exotic.

And vulnerable. Much too vulnerable for a thirty-six-year-old woman who had already been through more in her short career than others would be in a lifetime.

Shaking away the thought, Nick slid his hands into his pockets.

“Why are you here, Lucy?” he asked quietly.

Lucy assumed a look of bravado that she patently didn’t feel.

“I need help, Nick.”

The words were offered so grudgingly that he might have smiled if she’d been anyone else.

“From me?” he blurted in disbelief. A short bark of laughter escaped before he could stop it.

Lucy frowned. “You needn’t sound so shocked.”

She was so obviously wounded by his affront that he laughed again.

“And why not? As I recall, we didn’t exactly part on good terms. Let’s see, you told me you were choosing your job over me, then you ran for the exit.”

A flush spread up her neck and over her cheeks. “What happened in the past is hardly relevant.”

“It seemed damn relevant to me at the time,” he countered.

“A lot of years have passed since then.”

“Five, to be precise.”

She sighed. “I haven’t come here to rehash the past.”

“Then why are you here?”

She hesitated for an awkward beat of silence. Then she lifted her chin and announced, “I need a favor that only you can grant.”

His eyebrows rose. “What’s wrong? Couldn’t find a date for the Emmys so you’re falling back on an old relationship?”

Her cheeks burned even more and she clenched her fists, but her voice remained calm and even. “No. I need your help with a professional matter and you’re the only person I can trust.”

Nick snorted. He should have known. She’d come for a story, nothing more.

“I’m sorry, I don’t give interviews.”

“I haven’t come for an interview.”

He rocked back on his heels, eyeing her suspiciously. “Then what do you want?”

“I need your help with a…medical matter.”

For the first time, Nick was forced to acknowledge that Lucy’s pallor might be a result of something other than mere vanity. Was Lucy ill? The thought was more disturbing that he cared to admit.

Instantly, he was swamped by the urge to protect her, but he pushed the sensation away in self-disgust. He’d experienced those same emotions before, and look where they’d taken him.

“I’m a pediatric surgeon,” he said bluntly. “You’re a little old for my specialty.”

“I know.”

When she continued to watch him with pleading ice-green eyes, the full meaning of her response sank into his brain. “You have…a child with a problem?”

“Yes.”

She was married.

Or not. Women didn’t necessarily marry these days in order to have a baby.

Still, the image of Lucy with a child was unsettling. He’d assumed that she was single and unfettered by family ties. Call it hubris, but he’d believed that if she wouldn’t marry him, she wouldn’t marry anyone.

A baby. His hands curled into fists and he fought the tension gathering in his stomach.

“No.” His response was low and curt.

“No?” she echoed blankly.

“No, I can’t help you. It wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“I won’t help you,” he said firmly. Any prolonged contact he might have would only breed more trouble.

Nick turned, making his way toward the door.

“Wait!” She reached out, stopping him. “You haven’t even heard what I have to say.”

Her touch was like a firebrand and his reaction was visceral and complete. Damn it all, hadn’t he learned anything? The sexual attraction between them had always been intense and instantaneous. But there was no substance to their emotions, nothing other than passion. They’d never had what it took to make a truly lasting relationship. That had been the most painful truth he’d had to acknowledge five years earlier. Eventually he’d seen that it was better the two of them hadn’t married. They’d each been too independent and too self-absorbed to sustain anything but a passionate affair.

“You’ve got to hear me out,” Lucy said urgently, tugging on his arm. “Please.” She reached into her pocket and withdrew a photograph. “This is the reason I’ve come to you for help.”

Chapter Two

It took a moment for Nick to absorb what he was seeing. The photo was of two children placed close enough together that their bodies touched and appeared to be entwined. No, not entwined.

Conjoined.

As Nick peered at the picture, he could see that the tiny, naked bodies were fused from the breast-bone to the abdomen. Otherwise, the little girls, no more than a few weeks old, looked fairly healthy, if a little underweight.

He was so absorbed in studying the twins that he couldn’t even remember how he’d come to be holding the photograph. “Where did you get this?”

“The children—the twins—have been placed in my care.”

His forehead creased. The twins were dark as the finest chocolate. Wisps of black fluff dusted the tops of their heads and eyes bright as new coins stared curiously in the direction of the camera’s lens. Judging by the clarity of the shot and the haunting quality of the image, the photo had probably been taken by Lucy. During her undergraduate studies, she’d made a name for herself with her stark portrait photography—a sideline job that had helped Lucy pay her way through college.

With a wave of shame, Nick realized that Lucy had been honest in insisting that she’d come to him for medical reasons rather than personal ones. He could only imagine how much it had cost her pride to approach him.

Nevertheless, as he traced a thumb over the photograph, a part of Nick urged him to say no once again and send Lucy on her way. He’d be a fool to put himself into a position of working closely with her. But even as he considered refusing, he knew the children’s plight couldn’t be ignored.

“Where were they born?”

“In Zaire, in a village along the Congo River. They were left in an orphanage after their mother died in childbirth.”

“How old are they?”

“Nearly three months.”

“They’re awfully small for three months.”

“They are underweight for their age. When their mother died, the hospital had a hard time obtaining breast milk. The children have had some difficulties adjusting to formula. A good portion of their food has to be administered through a feeding tube.”

Bit by bit, the significance of Lucy’s visit began to sink in. Nick knew instinctively that Lucy hadn’t come to him merely for advice. She wanted more than that. Much more.

“You’re here to see if they can be separated.”

It wasn’t a question, but Lucy nodded.

He took a deep breath. “I don’t know if I can help.”

“Don’t say no. Please. I trust you. I trust your skills as a surgeon. You have to examine them at least. I’ve already made arrangements for their travel. They’ll be arriving by chartered plane tomorrow evening.”

His eyes narrowed, moving from the picture to Lucy’s anxious face. “You took a lot for granted.”

“Yes. Yes, I did. I don’t want just anyone to operate on them. I want the best. Someone I can trust.”

Nick fought the warmth that followed her statements. He found it incredible that after everything that had happened between them, she still felt she could trust him.

Yet she hadn’t trusted him enough to marry him.

“Please say you’ll consider my request, Nick. That’s all I ask.”

Nick knew in his gut that he should refer her to another surgeon altogether, but he held back. There was only a handful of pediatric specialists in the country who might be willing to take on an assignment like this.

But as he confronted the hope shining in her eyes, he admitted that his reasons for resisting weren’t entirely professional.

Nodding his head, Nick reluctantly agreed. “I’ll do a cursory evaluation when they get here, but I can’t make any promises about surgery. Not until I’ve seen them.”

Relief flooded her eyes, darkening them to a rich mossy shade. It was those eyes—which changed from icy sage to rich green with her emotions—that had first drawn Nick’s attention so long ago. Lucy had once told him she’d never been any good at lying because she couldn’t keep her gaze from revealing her true state of mind. Nick was glad to see that moving from one hot spot in the world to another hadn’t changed that.

Unable to keep back the words, he murmured, “It is good to see you, Lucy.”

She suddenly became aware of the palm she’d laid on his forearm. When she would have backed away, he cupped his hand beneath her chin, holding her face up to the light.

“Are you happy?”

He didn’t know what had made him ask, but he waited tensely, half dreading her answer. For all he knew, she might reveal that leaving him had been the best thing she’d ever done.

Ignoring his question, she released herself and said, “I’ll let you know as soon as I have the twins’ exact arrival time.”

“Fine.”

Knowing Lucy meant to leave, Nick held the picture out of her reach. The expression on her face was so similar to the one she’d worn seconds before she’d darted out of the courthouse five years ago that he experienced a rush of déjà vu.

“Don’t go yet. I need to know some specifics on the children so I can check into things at the hospital.”

She frowned. Obviously, she dreaded the thought that he might delve into their past relationship. In an attempt to reassure her, he pointed toward his office. “We can talk in there.”

She preceded him slowly into the room. As he followed her, Nick wondered why he’d been so insistent on making her stay.

Because you’re a fool, that’s why.

IT WAS CLOSE TO ten o’clock when Lucy shut the hotel room door behind her, then sagged against the panels.

In her career as a foreign correspondent, she had interviewed kings, potentates and dictators. She’d grilled criminals and mercenaries. But never, ever, had she endured a more uncomfortable two hours.

Summoning what little strength she had left after days of traveling by jeep, bus and airplane—all the while preparing for her upcoming confrontation with Nick—she peeled off her jacket, kicked off her shoes and fell onto the bed face-first.

Sleep. She needed sleep. Perhaps then, she wouldn’t cringe when she thought of her embarrassing reaction to the man. It was a testament to her mental weariness that she hadn’t been able to control her body’s wayward response.

Heaven only knew there was no reason for her to have behaved in such an adolescent fashion. At thirty-six she was too old to grow weak in the knees at the sight of a man with whom she’d once been intimately involved. She should have left as soon as he’d agreed to look at the girls. But something had caused her to linger.

As if she’d been waiting…

For what? For the conversation to become more personal? For a familiar glance? A touch?

Groaning, she pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes. Perhaps the most surprising moment of the evening had come when Nick offered her the use of his guest room. Naturally, she’d refused. Staying at his home would have been too…unsettling. Too dangerous.

Sleep. She needed sleep. A few hours of uninterrupted sleep should be enough to shake off her strange reaction to an old relationship.

Lucy pushed herself up, dragged her suitcase to the foot of the bed and located an oversize T-shirt. Minutes later, she had taken the fastest shower on record and climbed between the sheets.

But the moment her head touched the pillow, her mind began replaying the evening’s events. Even more disturbing, her body ached with an unmistakable sensual awareness—one she’d sworn she wouldn’t feel again.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Lucy made herself remember all the reasons she’d ended her relationship with Nick years ago.

At the time, Lucy had still been a struggling graduate student intent on becoming a reporter. She’d known that making it to the top of her field would require constant travel, unyielding stress and overt danger. Such a lifestyle would never mesh with Nick’s. His profession as a surgeon would entail remaining in one place and leading a life dominated by his own challenging schedule.

But even as she’d insisted that this was why she couldn’t marry him, she’d been aware that there were deeper reasons. Reasons she hadn’t fully understood herself, let alone been able to explain to Nick. It had taken her years to understand that part of her motivation for remaining alone and working so hard had been to escape all vestiges of her childhood.

When Lucy was asked how she could tolerate living in a war zone, she was often tempted to tell people that she’d grown up in one. For as long as she could remember, Lucy had felt as if she were a hostage in her own home. She was an only child caught in the battleground of her parents’ loveless marriage.

George Devon had been a stern, critical man for whom nothing was ever good enough. He’d ruled his wife and his daughter with an iron hand, dictating what they would wear, what they would eat, how many pennies they would be allotted for their personal needs. He’d demanded immediate and complete obedience.

But George wasn’t the only person at fault. Although he’d ordained himself taskmaster of her parents’ relationship, her mother had become the self-appointed martyr.

Lucy grimaced. Not one day had gone by without Lucy being reminded of her mother’s unhappiness. Lillian had constantly spoken of her woes. She’d complained about the way she’d denied herself any possibility of following her own dreams in order to keep the marriage from falling apart. Yet in her zeal to retain their conventional family unit, she’d been blind to the fact that her own unhappiness had been as ravaging as George Devon’s anger. Year by year, Lucy had watched her mother wither away. Where once she’d been a joyful, loving woman, she’d soon become a sad, embittered ghost of herself. And as she’d descended into despair, she’d brought her daughter along for the ride.

When Lucy had agreed to marry Nick, it hadn’t been without misgivings. Her greatest fear had been that she wasn’t capable of sustaining a loving relationship. After all, she’d had no role models as a child. She wasn’t even sure if she believed in true love. But Nick’s exuberance had allowed Lucy to push her own concerns aside.

Lucy groaned, remembering those horrible few weeks leading up to the wedding. With each day that had passed, her worries had increased, not diminished. She’d become paralyzed with fear, certain that she’d fail to measure up to Nick’s expectations.

Finally, when she’d been sure she was about to shatter into a million pieces from the stress of it all, Lucy had realized she couldn’t be the person Nick wanted her to be. Marriage had felt like an impending prison sentence, personally and professionally. In being totally honest with herself, she’d acknowledged that her drive to succeed was as necessary as breathing. She couldn’t live without the thrill of hunting down a story. And she wouldn’t subject her loved ones to the pressures her job demanded.

And nothing had changed since then. Nothing at all.

Rolling onto her side, she pounded her pillow into shape with more force than was necessary.

Enough. She wouldn’t think about Nick or the past. She had more important concerns to occupy her thoughts—such as two little girls who’d been entrusted to her care.

Tomorrow, the twins would arrive. The nuns from the orphanage had christened them Faith and Hope, and the names fit. Not quite three months old, they had overcome enormous obstacles just to survive. So much was riding on whether or not they could be separated. They deserved the very best medical attention Lucy could provide. She couldn’t allow herself to forget that.

THE NEXT EVENING, Nick stood with his palms braced on the shower wall, the hot spray beating down on the cramped muscles of his shoulders.

There had been a time when he could complete a full day of surgery, then play a game or two of basketball at a local gym afterward. But he was beginning to discover that—try as he might to ward off the effects of turning forty with diet and exercise—his stamina wasn’t what it used to be.

Granted, the morning hadn’t started out well. He’d had his whole day booked before he even stepped through the doors of Primary Children’s Medical Center. A six-car pileup on I-15 had resulted in two youngsters being air-lifted to the hospital before dawn. At six, Nick had been in one of the operating theaters, and he hadn’t left until after seven that night.

Which meant he was tired. Bone tired.

Normally, after a punishing day Nick treated himself to a quiet evening. He’d turn on some jazz or watch a game on television. But tonight…

Tonight, he felt edgy and anxious. His house was too quiet.

Grimacing at the melancholy turn of his own thoughts, Nick squeezed shampoo into his palm and vigorously scrubbed his scalp. If he was willing to indulge in self-pity, he was getting old. Now wasn’t the time to—

A muffled noise filtered into his musings. Frowning, Nick stepped away from the spray and bent his head in the direction of the bathroom door, sure that he was mistaken. But the muted sound of the doorbell left him in no doubt that someone had chosen this inopportune moment to visit.

Cursing, he rinsed the soap out of his hair, shut off the water and grabbed a towel. Max Garcia still hadn’t dropped off the case study, and it was possible that Nick’s colleague was waiting on the stoop, but Nick doubted it. Instinctively, he knew the identity of his visitor. Grabbing a pair of jeans from the dresser, he pulled them over his hips, zipped and fastened them and pulled on a button-down shirt, all while making his way down the stairs to the front door where someone was now pounding away on the other side. Grasping the knob, he threw open the door.

Lucy stood with her arm raised, poised to resume her knocking. The light spilled around her, playing up the copper highlights in her hair.

“Hello, Lucy,” Nick murmured.

“Nick.”

He couldn’t account for the pleasure her visit inspired. It was as if he’d been waiting all day for this moment.

Lucy said, “I need to talk to you again.”

“I can see that.” He worked on fastening his buttons, needing to finish at least that much before he let her inside.

“I have a telephone, you know,” Nick said, hoping for a halfhearted apology at the very least. But he was doomed to be disappointed.

“I hate talking on the phone.”

He looked at her questioningly. “Doesn’t that prove difficult as a reporter?”

Irritation flashed deep in Lucy’s eyes and she proudly tilted her chin. “Are you going to let me in or not?”

Nick briefly debated the merits of telling her to go away, but dismissed the idea just as quickly. If there was one thing he’d learned about Lucy, it was that she was tenacious. It was a quality that made her a top-notch reporter. Unfortunately, it didn’t go well with the weary throbbing of his head.

“Fine. Come in.”

Nick turned and strode into the kitchen. He had no doubt that she’d follow him.

The bang of the front door being slammed made his lips twitch in the beginnings of a smile, but he immediately wiped the humor from his expression.

“How long have you been skulking in my bushes?” He continued his lighthearted baiting as he flipped on the kitchen light.

“I have not been skulking in your bushes.” She planted her hands on her hips. “Frankly, I’ve got better things to do than spy on you. I just arrived.”

“Uh-huh.”

He opened the refrigerator, then scowled. Other than an inch of milk left in the jug, a whole shelf of condiments and a single slice of bologna, he was out of food.

“Listen, Nick, I’d like to have you—”

“Are you hungry?” he interrupted.

Lucy gaped at him, clearly nonplussed at his inability to sense her urgency. “I haven’t come to you to talk about—”

“Are you hungry?” he cut in again. “It’s a simple question.” Closing the refrigerator door, Nick allowed his gaze to slide down her frame, then back up again. “Because, frankly, you look like a bag of bones.”

Her face froze in response. “Don’t be rude,” she said when she recovered from the initial shock of his words.

“I wasn’t being rude. As I said the other day, you look like hell.”

A glint of temper appeared in her green eyes. “I’d forgotten how ill mannered you can be.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

“I had some vegetable—”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not talking about rabbit food. I’m talking about a hot, fill-up-your-stomach meal.”

Her lips pressed together in a tight line, answering that question well enough.

Nick turned away to search through the pantry closet, hoping he might find something that could be pulled together into the semblance of a meal. But it’d been so long since he’d gone to the grocery store, he knew that nothing short of a miracle could help him now.

“I didn’t come here to eat.” Lucy said, her tone conveying her impatience. “I came to talk to you more in-depth about the twins.”

“A hotshot reporter like you can’t talk and eat at the same time?”

She folded her arms tightly beneath her breasts—and for a moment, Nick was distracted.

“I don’t want to eat.”

Knowing now wasn’t the time to be distracted, Nick dragged his eyes away from Lucy’s chest. “Are you hungry or not?”

She opened her mouth and hesitated, so he took it upon himself to answer for her. “Hell, yes, you’re hungry.”

He brushed past her on his way to the staircase. “Wait here while I get my wallet.”

“But I don’t want—”

“If you want me to talk with you, you’ve got to eat. That’s the deal.”

He was midway up the stairs when he glanced down at her. From this height she looked especially thin and vulnerable.

“Agreed?”

She clenched her jaw stubbornly then finally acquiesced. “Agreed.”

Chapter Three

Lucy had expected Nick to take her to an eating establishment where the menu was bolted to the wall. When they’d dated, he’d had a penchant for mom-and-pop hamburger joints, old-fashioned drive-ins and diners.

He surprised her by driving to a secluded Italian restaurant in the heart of the city. It was located in a renovated warehouse on a block populated by up-scale boutiques and legal offices.

Inside, the atmosphere was quiet and sophisticated. Tables laid with heavy linen cloths were situated in intimate niches lined with potted plants. Muted murals adorned the walls and waiters wearing crisply starched shirts, black vests and ties circulated around the room.

As they stepped through the door, Lucy hung back, feeling decidedly grubby in her timeworn jeans and white button-down shirt.

“What’s the matter?” Nick inquired.

“I’m not dressed for this place,” she whispered.

“You look like you have plenty on to me.”

“But I’m not…fancy enough.”

Nick took her hand and pulled her toward the maître d’. “You’re fine.”

It was obvious that Nick was a regular customer. The maître d’ greeted him effusively and ushered them to a table near the window. Outside, a courtyard garden had been strung with fairy lights and strategically arranged spotlights.

Lucy was entranced. She’d nearly forgotten that there were places like this in the world. Places where people could feel as if they’d stepped into a fantasy.

“Will this be all right?” the maître d’ asked. Nick glanced at Lucy and she nodded.

“Yes, thank you,” he said.

When the man moved toward Lucy, Nick intercepted him to pull out Lucy’s chair. Lucy couldn’t remember the last time she’d been on the receiving end of such gentlemanly courtesy.

“Thanks,” she murmured, sinking onto the cushioned seat and allowing him to push her closer to the table.

Nick’s hand touched her shoulder, his fingers brushing against her hair as he went to his own chair.

Her mood softened even more at the gesture. When Lucy was on assignment, she made sure her gender wasn’t an issue. She carried her own equipment and stoically put up with rough conditions and the lack of privacy. Nevertheless, she couldn’t deny that Nick’s attentions made her feel special.

Feminine.

Alive.

As Nick settled into his place, she grabbed her menu and held it up in front of her, praying he wouldn’t see the moisture that had suddenly gathered in her eyes.

Dear sweet heaven, what was wrong with her? She’d spent most of the day sleeping, so she couldn’t blame her sensitivity on jet lag.

Telling herself she was just feeling stressed, she fastened her attention on the list of appetizers. Even so, she couldn’t seem to control the letters that swam before her eyes.

“Everything here is good,” Nick said, oblivious to her distress. “But if you order a salad, I’ll personally sic the chef on you.”

His comment made her snap out of her thoughts, but she couldn’t afford to speak just yet. Not when her voice might emerge as a croak.

Was it a coincidence that Nick had brought her here? Or had he remembered that Italian food was one of her weaknesses? She loved everything about it—the intoxicating aromas, the combination of spices, the rich sauces, the fresh meats and cheeses.

“Well, what do you think?”

Quickly blinking the last vestiges of tears from her eyes, Lucy focused on her menu. After reading only the first few items, she expelled a sigh of pleasure. “I have died and gone to heaven,” she said under her breath. At that moment, she vowed to stop worrying about the man who sat across from her, the appropriateness of her attire, or her unusual sensitivity. Her only concern would be which delectable concoction she’d taste first.

“If you look near the bottom of the menu, you’ll see they have a sampler of some of the most popular dishes.”

Lucy’s stomach growled in anticipation.

“There’s also soup, a side salad with a house dressing, bread sticks…. Just make sure you leave room for dessert.”

“Dessert?” she breathed, her eyes already scanning the list on the back cover.

“They have a raspberry lemon cheesecake that will make you weep.”

As if you aren’t on the verge of tears already.

By the time the waiter returned to take their orders, Lucy had managed to whittle her choices down to a somewhat manageable size. In the end, she chose a sampler of lasagna with red-pepper noodles, spinach and walnut ravioli in a white sauce and chicken picatta.

Once the waiter settled a tureen of minestrone soup and a basket of fresh bread in front of them, Lucy eagerly began filling their bowls.

“So when was the last time you had a decent sit-down meal?” Nick asked as she began smoothing herb butter on her bread.

Lucy shrugged. “It depends on your definition of ‘sit-down.’ It’s been at least a year since I’ve had Italian.”

“A lifetime, then, considering your love of Italian food.”

So he had remembered.

“Tell me about the twins.”

To her shame, Lucy realized that she had momentarily forgotten about the babies who were en route to Salt Lake City.

Wrenching her brain away from the way the subtle lighting seemed to caress the angular lines of Nick’s features and bring back to her responsibilities, she asked, “What would you like to know?”

“I suppose you’d better start at the beginning. How did you become their guardian?”

She took her time answering, swallowing a spoonful of soup before saying, “I was reporting on the humanitarian conditions in the war-torn regions of the Congo in Zaire, and I did a series on the orphanages in the area. I’d only been there a week when an orphanage run by a group of Franciscan nuns contacted me. At the time, the twins were just a few days old. Their mother had died in childbirth and the nuns feared that their own meager medical facilities were inadequate for the situation. They were hoping that, with my connections, I could help arrange for the girls’ care in the United States.”

“Yet it’s taken weeks to get them here. What kind of attention have they had in the meantime?”

Her forehead creased as familiar concerns pushed to the fore. “They were transferred immediately to a larger hospital, but it’s taken that long to process the reams of paperwork. I have copies of their medical files for you, but other than simple X rays, they haven’t had any tests to determine if they can be separated. The hospital was more worried about getting the children stabilized. The twins were losing weight and having trouble maintaining their temperature. At one point, Hope, the smaller girl, caught an infection, which set them back a bit.”

“What exactly do you know about conjoined twins?”

Lucy paused, then set down her spoon. Resting her arms on the table, she clasped her fingers together. “To be honest, the research I’ve done has been far from reassuring.”

“Why is that?”

Reluctantly, she met his gaze, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to mask her fears.

“Since my resources were somewhat limited, I was forced to get most of my information from the Internet. With some searching, I was able to find some medical texts, but first I had to wade through page after page of historically dated, sensationalist garbage. The most disturbing are the references to so-called Siamese twins being used in circus sideshows or being kept hidden from polite society.”

“It upsets you.”

“Yes, it upsets me. Faith and Hope are children, not oddities to be ogled or dismissed.” She took a deep breath. “And yet, if it weren’t for the nuns, they could have been trapped in a similar situation.”

“So you’re intent on a separation?”

“Only if it’s in the twins’ best interests.”

“And if it isn’t?” he asked carefully, knowing there were be no guarantees that such an operation would be successful.

“Then I can accept that prognosis. I would like them to have healthy and productive lives, whether that means as separate individuals or not. But no matter what happens, I intend to make sure they’re given the dignity and respect that every human being deserves.”

Nick nodded. “And what will happen to them after you’ve done as much as you can?”

The words were spoken with great care, as if he expected a heated reply.

Lucy sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Because of the death of their mother, the sisters arranged for me to become the girls’ legal guardian. If—no, when their condition is stable—I’ve been assigned the task of finding suitable adoptive parents for them. I’ve taken a six-month leave of absence from work…”

The waiter appeared to take away their empty soup bowls, interrupting Lucy. It was evident from the way she’d spoken that Lucy was anticipating a time when the twins would be healthy individuals, but Nick was relieved that she realized a completely positive outcome might be unattainable.

Yet he was well aware that totally preparing oneself for the realities of such a serious operation was not entirely possible. There were so many obstacles that lay in the children’s paths—the least of which was whether or not they could tolerate the surgery. If the option proved feasible, the process of preparation and recuperation from the invasive procedure could take months, even years.

What would happen in that time? Lucy had said she intended to find adoptive parents for the babies—but what if the children grew attached to her? Since their own mother had died in childbirth, it was Lucy who’d been the most constant influence in their lives.

The waiter finally stepped away, leaving each of them a small dish of gelato to clear their palates after the soup course.

“Tell me more about the twins themselves,” Nick prompted.

He watched with rapt attention as Lucy began to tell him about “her girls.” As she regaled him with stories of their distinct personalities and physical development, he was struck by how…maternal she sounded. It was a side of her that was new to him. Lucy had always focused single-mindedly on her career. She ate, drank, slept and breathed reporting. Long before she’d left him, she’d made it clear that children weren’t part of her plans for years to come—if ever.

Yet, since her return, he couldn’t honestly remember Lucy talking about her work. Any mention of her reporting at all had been in connection with the children. It was as if she’d turned off her professional drive for the time being.

Although Nick found this unexpected parental facet of her personality intriguing, it merely added to his worries. Chances were strong that Lucy would have to return to her job at CNC before the twins were fully recovered and ready to be adopted. The children were bound to be affected by her disappearance from their lives.

But although he felt some misgivings, Nick didn’t voice them. Now wasn’t the moment. After all, it had been Lucy’s job and the demands on her time and safety that had been the major hurdle in their relationship years ago. As for now…

It was none of his business how Lucy led her life or conducted her affairs. His only concern was the children and how best to care for them.

LUCY SETTLED ONTO the smooth leather seat of Nick’s Mercedes, deliciously sated. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten such a wonderful dinner. Years, probably.

Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes. In her lap, she held a container with enough leftovers for a whole meal, perhaps two.

“When does the plane land?”

“Eleven.” A glance at the dashboard confirmed that they had more than ninety minutes before picking up the twins. First, they’d stop at Nick’s house and exchange his car for the van she had leased earlier that afternoon. Then they’d return to the Salt Lake International terminal where the children and their nurses would be processed through customs.

Lucy could barely contain her excitement. All her carefully made plans were about to be set in motion. After suffering through the overwhelming amount of red tape involved in bringing the children to the United States, she’d mentally prepared herself for the worst, knowing that at any moment a technicality could delay the situation yet again. But the plane had safely left Chicago and would begin its descent within the hour.

Lucy yawned as the Mercedes slowed. Realizing that she’d fall asleep if she allowed herself to get any more relaxed, she straightened.

“You’ve gone to a lot of trouble on behalf of the twins,” Nick said as they pulled in to the driveway and rolled to a stop.

Lucy shrugged. “I never really thought of it that way. I’ve done what needed to be done.”

He turned, his arm resting on the back of her seat. One of his fingers toyed idly with a lock of her hair.

“Why have you gone to all this effort? You aren’t related to the children and there are other relief agencies who could have assumed the responsibility of getting them medical care.”

His question pricked her heart. “Do you think so little of me that you’d expect me to turn my back on someone in need?”

He grimaced. “I didn’t mean to imply that I felt you were callous. I simply…” He sighed, his hand moving to the back of her head and resting there. “You’ve always been so driven by your career. Yet now, you’re willing to step away from it all for a pair of strangers. It’s a side of you I’ve never experienced before.”

She pulled away from him. “You must have thought I was really shallow.”

Tugging at the latch, she escaped from the car and strode toward the van. But she’d only taken a few steps before Nick caught her.

“Again, you’ve misunderstood.” With his hands on her shoulders, he drew her toward him. “I’m impressed by the fact that you’ve put your life on hold. I’m impressed by your dedication in tackling the hundreds of details it’s taken to bring them here. When we were engaged, I concentrated so intently on the passion of our relationship that I didn’t appreciate your giving nature until you were gone.”

The admission stunned her. He’d missed her? Even more shocking was his willingness to admit it.

Nick drew her closer, and Lucy didn’t have the will to resist. She pushed away the sensible part of her consciousness that warned her an embrace could only lead to trouble. Instead, she surrendered to the heat that flooded her body.

It had been so long since she’d felt this way. So very long.

When his lips touched hers, she rested against him, her hands absorbing the solid warmth of his chest through the soft texture of his shirt. Then she rose on tiptoe, drowning in the heady desire that Nick’s kiss created.

“Even when you’re a sack of bones, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known,” he murmured when he pulled back to trail his lips from her cheek to her jaw, then down the sensitive arch of her neck.

“Flatterer,” she breathed, the sarcasm of her remark lost in the barely audible response.

She curled her fingers into his hair, drawing him up for another kiss. Yet, even as the passion raced through her, she wasn’t foolish enough to think any good would come from this moment. She was playing with fire and she would be burned. It was inevitable.

It was also the first time in years that she’d felt thoroughly alive….

But as much as she wanted to revel in the emotions she was feeling, Lucy knew she couldn’t. So much depended on her. She couldn’t allow herself to be sidetracked—especially not for selfish reasons.

Dragging her lips away, she whispered, “We need to go.”

“Okay.”

“Right now.”

He took a deep breath, nodded, then finally released her. “Fine. We’ll go. Right now.”

LUCY HAD THOUGHT that Nick would want to bring his own car so he could return directly home from the airport. But he seemed in no hurry, saying he’d come with her in the van, then take a cab from her hotel.

They arrived at Salt Lake International well before eleven o’clock and stowed the van in the short-term parking lot. Then they made their way to the appropriate terminal, where they began their wait.

From the outset, Lucy couldn’t stay still. She paced back and forth between the ticket counters and the baggage claim area, causing more than one security officer to eye her carefully.

Finally, Nick grabbed her wrist. “If you don’t calm down, you’re going to attract security’s attention.”

“Sorry.”

“They’ll be here soon enough, and from that point on you’ll be running nonstop. You should enjoy your last few moments of solitude.”

“You make it sound like I’m an expectant mother.”

He looked at her inquiringly. “Aren’t you?”

His words made her pause, but she shook her head. “I’m only one person in a team of caretakers.”

“And how is that different from a mother who relies on the help of nannies, family or day care to help with her children?”

“My role is temporary.”

He frowned. “Not to those little girls. Right now, you are the most stable influence in their lives. You’re their protector and their cheerleader—and they’re going to need one hundred percent of your commitment.” His eyes softened. “Something I think they already have.”

Warmth rose in her cheeks. Sometimes, she was sure her “commitment” bordered on an obsession. The moment she’d first held the children and felt their tiny bodies moving against her she’d known she could never let them down.

“Miss?”

She turned when a skycap approached.

“Are you Lucy Devon?”

“Yes.”

“I thought I recognized you from TV,” he said with smile. “I was asked to tell you that the party you’re waiting for has arrived safely and the children are well. They will be down as soon as they clear customs.” He held up a set of luggage tickets. “I’ll gather these and meet you by the baggage claim area.”

Lucy took Nick’s hand, urging him toward the base of the escalator where a group of people had gathered to welcome arriving passengers.

Within minutes, two dark-skinned women appeared on the landing. One pushed an oversize carriage-type stroller, while the other carried a large diaper bag and wheeled a small suitcase.

“It’s them. It’s them!” Lucy waved, bouncing up and down. Impulsively, she squeezed Nick’s arm, then ran toward the elevator.

At the sight of her, the weary women broke into smiles and called out.

“Lucy!”

“Hello!”

Nick remained behind, watching as the pair maneuvered the stroller and their belongings onto the elevator. As the car made its short trip to the lower level, they peered impatiently through the glass walls.

Finally, the doors slid open and they stepped out.

“Tamika, Kyro! Welcome!” Lucy hugged the two nurses, then bent to peer into the buggy. “Hello, sweet things,” she cooed. Her hand disappeared as she caressed the children, then she turned to the nurses again. “Any problems?”

“No, ma’am.” Tamika’s voice held a hint of her native dialect mixed with a clipped British intonation. “They slept most of the way.” Her lips twitched in a little smile. “Kyro was not so fortunate.”

Kyro’s cheeks took on a rosy hue. “I did not like—” she searched for the right words “—the height.”

Lucy offered her another hug. “Don’t worry, Kyro. No more flying for quite some time. I promise.”

Looking at Nick, Lucy gestured for him to come closer. “This is Dr. Nick Hammond. Nick, I would like you to meet Tamika and Kyro Tabumba. They’re recently graduated nurses who’ve been caring for the twins since their birth. And they’re sisters, as I’m sure you’ve already guessed. They agreed to accompany the children and serve as their nannies for a few months.”

The women shyly held out their hands and Nick shook them, nodding slightly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The women’s smiles grew wide.

“Would you like to be introduced to the twins?” Lucy asked.

“Of course.”

Lucy drew him forward until he could see two infants lying face-to-face. They wore frilly bonnets and were wrapped in a puffy quilt edged in candy-pink ruffles.

“May I?” Nick asked, indicating the blanket.

“Yes.”

He gently pulled the quilt down to reveal two tiny bodies in pink pajamas.

Even knowing exactly what he would find, Nick’s first full glimpse of the children was shocking. Great care had been taken to sew their outfits together, and the drape of the fabric hid much of what lay beneath, but it was still obvious that the children were fused from sternum to abdomen.

Automatically, Nick’s training took over as he made a quick examination. He was pleased to see that—although they had feeding tubes and their bodies seemed quite small for their age—the girls appeared stable and strong.

“They look like fighters,” he murmured, replacing the blanket.

“Yes, they are,” Lucy agreed proudly. “They’ve gone through so much to make it this far.”

“Shall we go get the luggage?”

Nick relieved the nurses of their carry-on bags while Lucy took control of the stroller. As the women marched ahead of him, Nick had to remind himself that he hadn’t formally committed himself to helping the twins. But as he followed in the wake of these three determined women, he knew it would be futile to resist. Not only would he have Lucy and the nurses to contend with if he refused…

But he’d have to explain himself to a pair of twins who had already wriggled their way beneath his professional detachment.

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