Page 153 of Perfectly Matched: Harbor Falls Romance Collection

Wynter stayed under the stream of hot water a lot longer than she had intended but she needed this few moments alone to collect herself. The water was hot and steam filled the shower stall. Could she do this thing?

She was confident she could. She knew beyond any doubt that she could act. And she knew that she could act her way in and out of this particular situation. For some reason, she had all the confidence in the world of that now. She guessed once she’d gotten past her initial fear, and had literally gotten her foot in the front door, it was downhill from there. She was going to do this, and then as soon as this job was up, she was going to take the acting world by storm, rather than employing her previous half-assed approach to landing jobs here and there. She was now going after the big roles. She was nearing thirty. It was do or die time.

She just hoped she hadn’t waited too late to get serious.

But there was just one niggling thought that crept in her head as her confidence zoomed. She hadn’t expected Rob Black. And she hadn’t expected him to be so damned irresistible. His gruff and standoffish demeanor during the audition hadn’t given her any indication of his downright sexy looks or his natural personality.

And it was, truly, Rob Black who was out there in the other room with the kids. She’d Googled him on her phone before taking the shower. The pictures matched up. And according to all of the biographies and articles, he was originally from Harbor Falls but he wasn’t married, and didn’t have kids.

So what gives here? Who are these kids and why is he caring for them?

She’d have to investigate, er Google, more later.

The only thing she could think of was that he was intentionally going undercover here. She supposed he had his reasons. She couldn’t fault him for that, could she? Wasn’t she doing the same thing?

Yes, she was.

Seems they were both cast in unsuitable roles. Should she just play this thing through as planned and see how things fall into place?

She supposed.

Smiling, she recalled the entrance scene of a few minutes ago. Seeing him out of character, caught by surprise and flustered by the chaos the kids were creating, was a little endearing and cute.

Goodness. What was she thinking?

Endearing and cute?

Get a grip, Wyn.

He wasn’t married. Not in real life. Therefore, did it matter that she was slightly attracted to him? Well, yes, it did matter. She could not get the hots for man who worked in her industry. She had to keep this professional at all times. Besides, he was who he was, and that didn’t bode well for her local acting career, either.

“Dammit,”

she said aloud.

“What am I getting myself into?”

She should just leave, as she started to earlier.

He would be gone soon, though, and it would just be her and the kids. Life would be much easier then. But as she stood in his shower—a shower that smelled all male and musky with his shampoos and soaps—it was difficult to get her mind on anything but the man out in the kitchen feeding Mia.

Wyn inhaled and the scent of pure male penetrated her nostrils. She held it long. Damn, but a good smelling man sure kick-started her sex drive. What a rut she was in! God, she missed how a man smelled. Sometimes, while waiting tables at Dee’s, she’d intentionally sidle up to a great smelling man just to sniff. She was like an addict. Exhaling, she blew out the breath slowly and let the hot water beat over her body.

Stop!

Stop it Wyn. Now. Get a grip!

She washed her hair and tried not to inhale any kind of scent at all or think about Rob Black in any way other than as her employer. A paycheck. That’s all. She worked to clear her mind of anything, everything, and concentrate on the tasks that lay before her this afternoon. The children.

Oh, and paying the rent. The wrath of her friends.

****

Several minutes later, her hair still wet, clothes changed, and with those ever-attractive horn-rimmed glasses straddling her nose, Wyn strode into the cacophony that filled the great room. In one hand, she held a grocery bag filled with her soiled clothing. With the other she finger-combed her damp hair.

She wore Rob’s clothes—not the ones he’d offered but ones she’d pilfered from his dresser—a pair of unattractive-as-hell baggy sweats and a too-tight sweatshirt that had Eat at Earl’s, BBQ to Go blazed across the chest. There was also a picture of a man running on the shirt while eating a rib bone and dripping sauce on his shirt which read, Eat at Earl’s, BBQ to Go. She could safely say, as she stepped further into the room, that she felt rather unattractive.

No one noticed—either her presence or her lack of attractiveness.

Music blared from surround-sound speakers located throughout the great room and kitchen. It was Motown, Martha Reeves and the Vandellas belting out Dancing in the Streets. The boys were grooving and cleaning the kitchen, swiping up chocolate stripes and globs of peanut butter from cherry cabinets and ceramic tile and granite countertops as they spun and danced across the kitchen floor. The twins stopped and faced each other, gyrating and singing into wooden spoons. Justin watched his big brothers in adoration.

Great trick. She’d have to remember the fun aspect of getting kids to do their chores. The music was definitely a plus. She had to hand that one to Rob.

Speaking of Rob, she turned and found him scrubbing the white ottoman—Wyn had to wonder why any woman in her right mind with three boys would buy any piece of furniture with white upholstery—his backside swaying back and forth as he scrubbed. Damn. The man always seemed to be shaking that cute and tight backside at her. She had to get him out of those boxers.

Um, not in that way, Wyn!

She needed him to change clothes and fast.

She turned away and found baby Mia watching the entire scenario from a bouncy chair on the periphery, an odd sort of look on her little face. Wyn could swear the little tyke was rebounding in a bebop rhythm along with the backup singers.

For several seconds more, she remained invisible. Even as she crossed the room to Mia, deposited her bag of clothing on the floor beside the child’s bouncy, and lifted the smiling baby into her arms, no one noticed.

“There she is!”

shouted one of the twins.

“Our new granny!”

If that wasn’t a blow to the ego, Wyn didn’t know what was. Perhaps she’d played up the unattractive part a mite too much.

“Not granny you idiot!”

bantered back the other twin. Wyn didn’t know which was which yet.

“She’s our nanny!”

The last one yelled over the music to his brother.

The little one grabbed a fist full of his brother’s t-shirt. “Granny?”

“No, Justin. She’s a nanny.”

Wyn registered Justin’s puzzled look as he glanced back at her. Probably has no clue what a nanny is. She started to say something then Rob noticed she was in the room. He turned down the music.

“Nice shirt,”

he said, looking her over and frowning.

“It’s yours.”

“I know.”

“Hope you don’t mind. I was a bit chilled and wanted something more than a t-shirt and gym shorts.”

“No problem,”

he said, and then left the room. She had a sinking feeling she had done something wrong. Oh well, she’d figure it out sooner or later. She turned to the boys.

“So, cleaning, eh?”

The blond-headed twins nodded.

“Okay, so which one of you is Ham and which one of you is Cheese?”

“Chaz!”

they said in unison.

“Oh! Chaz. Of course. Ham and Chaz.”

Wyn smirked. What the hell kind of names were those? She was beginning to have second thoughts about people who would name their children after a sandwich.

“So what are your real names?”

She looked back and forth between the two.

“Those are our real names!”

Wyn cocked her head to one side. “Really.”

“Weely,”

the little one chimed in, bobbing his head. She’s almost forgotten him.

Balancing Mia on her thigh, she crouched down. This technique was something she’d learned in one of the child development books Charla had checked out of the library—stoop down to the child’s eye level so you aren’t towering over him, make eye contact. She leveled her gaze and said to the little one.

“Weely. Well, and what’s your name?”

“Justin.”

“Hmm. I thought maybe you were Mustard. ‘Cause you’re just a little squirt.”

Wyn snorted and laughed to herself, proud of the joke she’d just made.

Justin crinkled up his face. His older brothers laughed and said.

“Eww! Jus-tin mus-tard, Jus-tin mus-tard.”

“Stop!”

Justin cried out and punched Chaz. Or was it Ham.

“I’m not mustard!”

he yelled.

Wyn stood. This eye level thing didn’t seem to be working. The twins were now punching back. Oh, boy.

“Ham, stop that! Oh dear, Chaz. Take that back. Quit hitting mustard. I mean, Justin!”

Justin wailed.

“I’m not mustard!”

Mia started crying. Wyn diverted her attention to comfort the baby and then got socked in the thigh.

“Ouch!”

She glared at a twin. She wasn’t sure which one it was. She was going to have to tattoo their names on their sweaty little foreheads. She now remembered very vividly why she didn’t like kids. They were too damned unpredictable and they hit!

“That’s not nice.”

Wyn stared down the twin.

“We use our words, not our fists,”

she bit out.

“I don’t like it when you hit me.”

Another pearl of wisdom from the child development book.

This time Justin thumped her square in the left kneecap.

“I’m not mustard,” he said.

Wyn’s knee buckled and she gasped, “Justin!”

“Boys, stop it!”

Rob was back. Thank God. Wyn whirled his way, rubbing her knee. The boys froze.

Rob took a deep breath, exhaled, and then glanced sideways.

“I’m sorry. Boys, apologize!”

“Sorry,”

they chimed.

Wyn didn’t believe a word of it.

Rob held something wadded up in his hand. He pointed a finger at the eight-year-old on the left.

“That one is Ham, or Hamilton, his real name. You can remember he is Ham because he’s got a little extra meat around the middle, more than his brother. See?”

She looked at the boys. Ham definitely had a bit more gut. Rob pointed again.

“That one is Chaz, or Charles. He’s the skinnier one, plus he has a little birthmark inside the palm of his right hand. Show her Chaz.”

Chaz hesitated and Rob gave him a stern look. “Chaz.”

The boy lifted up his hand and showed her his palm. There was little brown birthmark in the shape of a “C.”

“How convenient.”

Wyn looked at Rob.

“Sure you didn’t tattoo that there?

He tossed her an appalled look.

“I’m sure.”

“The little one is Justin. And of course, you know Mia.”

He paused, looking proudly over his little gang. Suddenly Wyn felt like she’d been thrown in the lion’s den.

“Kids, this is your nanny. She’s going to be taking care of you while I’m in Los Angeles on business. She said we could call her Miss Wyn.”

“I want a kitty,”

Justin said softly.

“but Mommy said no.”

Mommy. First mention of the Mommy, Wyn thought. Where was she again? Japan? How convenient to fly halfway around the world to be free of these little monsters.

“You know you can’t have a kitty, Justin. Allergies.”

Semi-crouching again, Wyn said to Justin.

“I like kitties, too. Maybe we can just go look at some at the shelter.”

Then she rose up and met Rob’s scowl.

“Just to look, not to bring home or anything.”

Had she said something else that made him angry? He sure was gruff all of a sudden. And why did he keep looking at her chest? Then, he tossed something at her and Wyn jumped.

“Here,”

he said.

“mind changing into a different shirt?”

Wyn snagged the shirt out of the air with one hand. She bunched it in her palm and said.

“Oh sure. Okay.”

She handed Rob the baby, with both hands opened up the t-shirt, and looked at it. Boring. Just an athletic T.

She looked at Rob.

“I don’t get it.”

He motioned to the shirt she was wearing.

“Mind taking that one off?”

“Here?”

She arched a brow and reached for the hem of the shirt. She knew what he meant, but for some playful reason she felt like teasing the man. Might take the edge off all that sudden surliness.

“No!”

he stepped a little closer, glancing toward the boys.

“I didn’t mean now.”

Wyn leaned toward him, feeling a little mischievous and liking being just a little bit closer to him, then whispered, oh-too-seductively.

“Then whatever do you mean, Mr. Browning?”

She even batted her actor eyelashes.

He leaned in, too. Wyn was sure she felt something crackle between them, like a spark of static electricity between blankets on a cold winter’s day.

“I...uh,”

He looked straight into her eyes. His were blue. Deep blue. Not black like she’d thought earlier. Deep blue with little purple flecks it seemed. She liked them.

Rob swallowed, broke the gaze, and stepped back.

“Fraternity. An old fraternity shirt. Lots of memories. I don’t even wear it anymore. Do you mind?”

Oh. Wyn got it now. A male thing. Stupid male bonding memory thing. Fraternity no less.

“Mind? Of course not. I’ll change. Anything for the high-and-mighty fraternity of Sigma Alpha Earl’s.”

She winked and then stepped away. Men. As Wyn headed back to change, she had to wonder about the idiosyncrasies of them. Never ceased to amaze her. She was sure she’d never understand it all. That was why it was so great having a gay guy for a best friend. When he could give the male perspective, he would, but most of the time he was just one of the girls.