Lone Star Daddy (McCabe Multiples) by CATHY GILLEN THACKER Page A

and headed for the barn entrance.
    As expected, Clint was right behind her. “Why do you care?” She threw the words over her shoulder.
    He overtook her at the doorway and stepped out into the dwindling spring sunshine. Thanks to daylight saving time, it wouldn’t get dark for another two hours, but the skies were still a clear blue and the temperature—which had been in the high eighties all day—was now dropping. Which meant a very pleasant star-filled evening ahead.
    She locked up. “I didn’t think you were into gossip.”
    He lounged casually beside her, one brawny shoulder propped against the red siding. “Call me curious.”
    Wondering how in the heck he could still look so darn good after being out in the field all day, she shot back, “Well, don’t be.” With five sisters and two parents prying into her love life, or lack thereof, she didn’t need any more questions.
    He ignored her subtle gibe and pressed closer. Determined, it seemed, to know everything about her. Even as she vowed to continue to keep him at arm’s length.
    “Then they were guys you’re involved with in a business sense.”
    “No. Not at all.” Rose pivoted and began strolling across the yard, toward her bungalow. “One was a cardiologist. Another a computer programmer. The third an insurance agent.”
    He fell into step beside her. “So what happened?”
    Resisting the crazy urge to tuck her hand into his, she kept on going. “None of them could handle the kids—even during the thirty-minute predate get-to-know-each-other sessions. And the triplets didn’t like the guys, either.” Rose sighed as she mounted the steps to the front door of her house. “And that clearly wasn’t likely to change.”
    “So you quit dating.”
    As if it had been that simple! Figuring the only way to get him to back off was to lay it all on the line, Rose spun toward him. “Do you know what the divorce rate of parents of multiples is right now?”
    He shook his head.
    Unsure whether it was resentment or nerves prodding her to respond so emotionally, Rose told him the stark awful truth. “Over 70 percent.”
    “Well, that’s discouraging.”
    Tell me about it!
    Deciding not to go into the house after all, Rose went back to the wide steps leading up to her front porch and sat down. “If I couldn’t make it work with the biological father of my children, what are my odds of making something work with a guy who has no connection to them?”
    He shrugged and sat down next to her. “Depends on the guy.”
    Her heartbeat quickened at the unexpected compassion in his low tone. She thought about the kisses they had already shared, and how quickly he had rocked her world. “I suppose you’d be up for the challenge?” she queried dryly.
    An affable grin deepened the crinkles around his eyes. “Damn straight I would.”
    She shook her head. Sighed.
    “You don’t believe me?” he asked, cocky.
    Rose stood once again, eager now to have him on his way. “I believe you want to think you could handle what no other man has. But reality is quite another thing. And the bottom line is,” she said, lifting her chin, “I don’t want my kids getting hurt.”
    He got to his feet, too, his dark gaze skimming her intently. “Keep telling yourself that. You’re guaranteed to be miserable.”
    Finding his low, rumbling voice a bit too determined—and too full of sexual promise—for comfort, she returned, “Excuse me?”
    Folding his arms in front of him, he braced his legs a little farther apart. “You’re not afraid for your kids,” he stated with a smug smile. “You’re afraid for you.”
    “I am not.”
    He strolled toward her. “Then prove it,” he said, looking very much like he wanted to make love with her right then and there. “And go out with me.”
    Knowing it would be a dangerous proposition to have him that close to her—because she did desire him more than anyone who had ever come before—Rose shook her head. “That would never