As the memory of the scene she had walked in on played back in Gemma’s head, she had to admit Dante was also damned sexy. Not as sexy as smooth, suave Devlin, of course, but in a different, rougher, edgier way.
Not that that type appealed to her. Which did not explain her first reaction to the sight of his bare torso, but she decided not to think about that now. She had other things to deal with. Like keeping these two quiet. She dropped down to sit beside the two babies and the dog.
You two are going to be my résumé. When Dev sees I can handle this, he won’t have doubts anymore. Then everything will go back to the way it should be.
The dog lifted his head again, looking at her steadily. She knew she was being fanciful, but there seemed a world of wisdom in those deep-set canine eyes. She felt the urge to pet him but didn’t know if that would break some K9 protocol. Funny, she’d heard all her life about the Red Ridge K9 unit, had raised money—a lot of money—for them, but she knew very little about the animals themselves. Maybe she’d held herself apart because they had been the pet cause of her father’s first—and, if she were honest, most beloved—wife. Maybe the only one he’d really loved; she’d figured that out fairly young.
She glanced across the office at Dante, who appeared to be waiting for a response to a text to Juliette asking for a convo. Then, tentatively, she held out a hand for the dog to smell. He didn’t seem impressed, but then she remembered the deep sniff he’d taken earlier.
“No harm,” she whispered to him. With some idea that it might be less objectionable than a pat on the head—this dog, with his almost noble mien, did not seem the type for such saccharine gestures—she reached out and stroked one of the long, dropping ears with the back of her fingers. It felt surprisingly thin and delicate, and amazingly, incredibly soft. And it curled at the tip, inward and back, in a way she had spent many hours trying to get her hair to do just right.
One of the babies giggled. Or at least that’s what it sounded like. It startled her, and her head snapped around. It was the baby she’d just put down—she’d have to learn how to tell them apart, so she didn’t call them by the wrong names—and she was watching her and Flash with obvious interest.
She felt another gaze, knew it was Dante. She looked up at him and smiled.
He went very still. But before she could decipher the look on his face—normally she wasn’t much for stubble, but she had to admit on him it looked good—he turned away. For an instant she wondered if it had been an expression of male reaction, but then she heard him talking into his phone as he walked away, toward the window, and laughed inwardly at herself.
God, you really do think it’s always about you, don’t you?
She looked back at the two girls. And for the first time felt overwhelmed at what she’d done. Felt the fierce urge to back out, now, fast, before she got in any deeper.
...an ounce of maternal instinct.
Dev’s words rang in her mind. And her determination returned. She’d set out to prove him wrong, and she would. Somehow.
She stroked that soft ear again. And to her surprise, the big head nudged her hand. She looked at the dog. The dog who had already gotten one of the girls to giggle.
“Will you help me, Flash?” she whispered to him, scratching behind that ear now. “You’ve obviously got the knack.”
The dog gave her another long, considering look, and then turned toward the two babies, as if he understood exactly what she meant. With a sigh that sounded nothing less than long-suffering, he plopped his head back down on his huge paws.
Gemma chose to interpret that as acceptance, if not an outright offer to help. It would have to do.
* * *
Jolted out of useless meanderings, Dante turned to walk back toward his desk. And stopped a few feet away at the sight of Gemma sitting cross-legged on the floor, one hand holding one of the dangling, beaded earrings she’d been wearing in front of one of the twins, who was batting at it happily as her sister slept on, and the other hand stroking one of Flash’s ears. The dog looked as close to blissful as he ever did.
It wasn’t much to go on, he knew that. But the combination of that recognition that he and Gemma had chosen a similar response to parental unreliability and this image of her, the twins and Flash before him made up his mind.
“I hope you can learn to tell them apart.”
Gemma looked up at him, smiling widely. All the Colton polish and elegance was still there, but that smile made her seem...real. “Oh, I can already do that.”
He blinked. “You can?”
She nodded. Gestured at the sleeping twin. “She’s a little smaller, but that might not last, so I looked for something else. And see, her right eyebrow has a little point on top.”
He looked where she was indicating. And indeed saw a point in the shape of the tiny brow, where the other one was a smooth curve.
“I...never noticed.” Odd, he usually had a cop’s eye for details, but he’d missed this.
“It’s a girly thing,” Gemma said blithely, as if she never would have expected him to notice. “Besides, I’d guess you’ve been a little busy.”
That was an understatement. Dante thought. Everything was a blur from the moment he’d picked up the girls from Mrs. Nelson. “Frankly,” he said drily, “I’m amazed we all survived.”
Again that smile. Genuine, he thought. That’s what it was. “I just hope you can tell me which is which.”
“I... They have little bead things with their names. Elastic. On their ankles.” He grimaced. “They come off, though. Thankfully not at the same time so far.”
She laughed. It wasn’t the light, airy thing that Juliette’s had been, but rather a deeper, huskier sound that seemed to make the back of his neck itch.
“Let’s see, then,” she said, with her free hand tugging at the tiny bootie of the twin so entranced with her earring. “Ah, ah, sweetie, that earring would be just too easy for you to swallow, so I’ll just hang on to it while you play.”
He remembered wrestling with the tiny cloth foot coverings in the wee hours, remembered with an odd twinge of...something, that moment when he’d caught that impossibly tiny bare foot in his hands and marveled at it. That these two tiny beings were connected to him, were of his blood, his DNA, even if once removed, filled him with awe. And the burst of protectiveness that had flooded him in that instant had shocked him.
How could his brother stay on that crooked path when he had these two tiny girls depending on him? How could he not be changed, simply by their very existence? How could he—
It had hit him again then, with renewed force. And he wondered if he would ever get over the jolt of having to think of his brother in the past tense.
“Ah,” Gemma said softly, yanking him out of the painful memory. “So you’re Lucia,” she said. “With the affinity for flashy things. I’ll remember that.” She looked at the sleeping twin now. “Which makes you Zita, of the pointed brow. Sounds like a mythical name, doesn’t it?”
Dante was smiling. Widely. And he wasn’t quite sure why. Sure, it was in part because he was feeling better about the impulsive decision he hadn’t even told her he’d made yet. And because he liked her voice. But it was more than just that. It was how she was speaking to them, not in baby talk or cooing, but lightly, with humor, as if they could understand.
And perhaps they could, the tone if not the words. For Zita had awakened as if in response to her name, although she couldn’t really know it yet, could she? Or maybe she could. He sighed, seeing yet another internet search in his future. He really needed