Triple treat Read Free Page B

kitchen. If s like he's on guard duty," joked Ben.
    "Sleuth knows and sees all," Carrie chimed in, and they both chuckled.
    They were obviously enjoying a bit of shared sibling humor. Tyler felt excluded and even more anxious to leave. When the sudden wail of a baby pierced the air, he made a speedy beeline to the door. He was not about to be dragged upstairs to admire any infant!
    "If you decide to come to the picnic, FU see you tomorrow," he called as he strode briskly down the walk to his car. He was aware that he sounded as if he didn't care if they came or not. And he didn't.
    Tyler snatched his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow. Actually, he did care, he acknowledged grimly. He knew what they would see and hear if they came to what his brother had so accurately described as "the bacchanalian kickoff to summer," and he knew that he didn't want them to witness it. Though he considered himself jaded and cynical, he felt an uncharacteristic urge to protect Carrie and her brother because they seemed so naive and young and guileless.
    Offering a pudding confection! Dragging him in to see their cat! How hopelessly unsophisticated! Their openness, their innocence, made him feel uncomfortable—and guilty, too. He was so very far out of their league; it was like Dra-cula meeting the Brady Bunch.
    Tyler hated feeling uncomfortable and guilty as much as he disliked feeling superfluous. Carrie Shaw Wilcox and her kin had evoked all these powerful, negative feelings within him. The sooner he bought her property and got her out of there, the better. And if tomorrow's party resulted in that end... well, it was regrettable but necessary. The end justifies the means; wasn't that the successful marketing executive's anthem?

    From the air-conditioned coolness of his bright, spacious living room, Tyler glanced down at the dilapidated frame house next door. Without warning came the sharp memory of the electrical jolt he'd felt when he caught his first glimpse of Carrie Wilcox. Just imagining her enormous dark blue eyes and heart-melting smile caused him to freeze in place.
    It was unthinkable, absurd. He could not be attracted to her, he assured himself. She'd simply caught him off guard because she was so different from the women he usually met.
    He would not be attracted to her, Tyler vowed fiercely. It was pointless and unfair... to her. He was not in the market for a sweet, unspoiled, young widowed mother; such a prospect was as unnerving as the nice, suitable young woman of his father's threats. Both types were to be dodged.
    And Tyler, that artful dodger, had long ago made himself a pledge to stay free, uninvolved and unencumbered. He had never had any difficulty keeping to his oath in the past. He expected no trouble now.

    Two
    Carrie rushed up the stairs to retrieve eighteen-month-old Franklin from his crib. He stopped crying the moment she entered the room, and began to jump up and down, holding onto the bars, a beatific smile lighting his small face.
    "Hi, Frankie, hi!" Carried greeted him gaily, lifting him from the crib and carrying him to the changing table in the corner of the room. The baby began to wriggle and kick, laughing and yelling, "Hi, hi, hi."
    After a bit of a wrestling match, with a can of baby powder and package of baby wipes being flung enthusiastically to the floor by an increasingly wild Franklin, Carrie finished diapering him and tackled the job of dressing him. She didn't set her sights too high—a one-piece blue cotton sun-suit was the quickest and easiest garment to get him into. The unique and adorable—and more complicated—little outfits remained on their hangers in the closet.
    "So, Mr. Sleepyhead finally decided to wake up!" Alexa Shaw appeared in the doorway, holding one toddler in her

    arms and another by the hand. "I needed a break from all the fun we were having outside," she confessed, setting one baby to the floor and releasing the other's hand.
    The two toddlers ran into the