At Home in Stone Creek (Silhouette Special Edition) by Linda Lael Miller Page A

Tanner and Olivia wanted to surprise us. She says all is well, and she’s going to catch some sleep before visiting hours.”
    â€œBoys? Girls? One of each?” Melissa asked, rapid-fire.
    â€œBoth boys,” Ashley said. “No for-sure names yet. And who is that man who just answered your phone?”
    â€œLater,” Melissa said, lowering her voice.
    Ashley’s imagination spiked again. “Just tell me you’re all right,” she said. “That some stranger isn’t forcing you to pretend—”
    â€œOh, for Pete’s sake,” Melissa broke in, sounding almost snappish. She’d been worried about Olivia, too, Ashley reasoned, calming down a little, but still unsettled. “I’m not bound with duct tape and being held captive in a closet. You’re watching too much crime-TV again.”
    â€œSay the code word,” Ashley said, just to be absolutely sure Melissa was safe.
    â€œYou are so paranoid,” Melissa griped. Ashley could just see her, pushing back her hair, which fell to her shoulders in dark, gleaming spirals, picture her eyes flashing with irritation.
    â€œSay it, and I’ll leave you alone.”
    Melissa sighed. “Buttercup,” she said.
    Ashley smiled. After a rash of child abductions when they were small, Big John had helped them choose the secret word and instructed them never to reveal it to anyone outside the family. Ashley never had, and she was sure Melissa hadn’t, either.
    They’d liked the idea of speaking in code—their version of the twin-language phenomenon, Ashley supposed. Between the ages of three and seven, they’d driven everyone crazy, chattering away in a dialect made up of otherwise ordinary words and phrases.
    If Melissa had said, “I plan to spend the afternoon sewing,” for instance, Ashley would have called out the National Guard. Ashley’s signal, considerably less autobiographical, was, “I saw three crows sitting on the mailbox this morning.”
    â€œAre you satisfied?” Melissa asked.
    â€œAre you PMS-ing?” Ashley countered.
    â€œI wish,” Melissa said.
    Before Ashley could ask what she’d meant by that, Melissa hung up.
    â€œShe’s PMS-ing,” Ashley told Mrs. Wiggins, who was curling around her ankles and mewing, probably ready for her kitty kibble.
    Hastily, Ashley took a shower, donned trim black woolen slacks and an ice-blue silk blouse, brushed and braided her hair, and went out into the hallway.
    Jack’s door was closed—she was sure she’d left it open a crack the night before, in case he called out—so she rapped lightly with her knuckles.
    â€œIn,” he responded.
    Ashley rolled her eyes and opened the door to peek inside the room. Jack was sitting on the edge of the bed, his back very straight. He needed a shave, and his eyes were clear when he turned his head to look at her.
    â€œYou’re better,” she said, surprised.
    He gave a slanted grin. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
    Ashley felt her temper surge, but she wasn’t about to give Jack McCall the satisfaction of getting under her skin. Not today, when she’d just learned that she had twin nephews. “Are you hungry?”
    â€œYeah,” he said. “Bacon and eggs would be good.”
    Ashley raised one eyebrow. He’d barely managed chicken soup the night before, and now he wanted a trucker’s breakfast? “You’ll make yourself sick,” she told him, hiking her chin up a notch.
    â€œI’m already sick,” he pointed out. “And I still want bacon and eggs.”
    â€œWell,” Ashley said, “there aren’t any. I usually have grapefruit or granola.”
    â€œYou serve paying guests health food? ”
    Ashley sucked in a breath, let it out slowly. Shewasn’t about to admit, not to Jack McCall, at least, that she hadn’t had a guest, paying or otherwise, in way too long.