Read Online Triple treat by Barbara Boswell - Free Book Online
Authors: Barbara Boswell
Tags: Single mothers, Triplets
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stared thoughtfully at the ground. She wanted an answer but the truth wouldn't quite serve. This was where his years of marketing strategies and counterstrategies served him well.
"Maybe it's because you said we can't be friends in that doomsday tone of yours," he said ingenuously. "I don't like to be told what I can and can't do. In fact, I don't like the concept of can't at all. As soon as someone tells me some-
thing can't be done, I set about trying to see that it can. So how about it, Carrie?" He offered her his hand. "Friends?''
"Oh, well, why not?" Carrie put her hand in his, and they shook like two business partners agreeing on a verbal contract. "All things considered, I guess I'd rather have you as a friend than an enemy. And since we're friends, we can be honest and open with each other, right?"
"I doubt if you could be anything but," he murmured. He had the strongest urge to lift her hand to his mouth and press his lips against her small, warm palm. He pictured her gazing at him, dazed and charmed.
"Okay, here goes." Carrie withdrew her hand from his and flashed him a dazzling smile. "Tyler, old pal, it's time for you to get lost. And I mean that in the most friendly, honest, and open way."
Four
Tyler heard baby voices and squeals of laughter and the sound of splashing water as he approached the gap in the hedge separating his property from Carrie's. He hesitated, glancing back at his house, which stood cool and quiet under the hot noon sun. Most of the party guests were gone, though a few still slept on in various rooms, sprawled on furniture or the floor, and about five or six were currently preparing some sort of breakfast for themselves in the enormous, tiled kitchen. Tyler had listened to their post-party ramblings for a few minutes and been seized by an inexplicable urge to escape.
He'd immediately fled the scene and now here he was, wearing cutoff jeans and nothing else, staring at the trail-beaten gap in the unsightly hedge. From the sounds of it, Carrie's children were playing in the backyard. Tyler frowned, realizing at that moment how much he'd been hoping for a replay of last night. That he would find her alone in her yard and they would...
They would what? he asked himself cynically. Pick up where they'd left off last night? And where would that be? The part where he had kissed her and they'd both burned with unslaked desire, or the part where she'd told him to get lost, gave him a friendly shove out the door and locked it behind him?
It felt odd, wondering about a woman. He viewed the opposite sex as an open book, one he had no trouble reading. His preoccupation with Carrie might have alarmed him if he hadn't already developed a workable course of action for dealing with it. Tyler congratulated himself on his foresight. It was so simple, so basic. The more he saw of Carrie, the less interest she would hold for him. Any marketing student with an elementary grasp of the dangers of overexposure was familiar with that theory. More is less. And Tyler Tremaine had an advanced degree in marketing.
His plan, however, did not include exposure to Carrie's three little kiddies, especially not on the minimal amount of sleep he'd gotten last night. Tyler turned to head back up to the house.
"Dylan, come back! No, no, Dylan. Don't go over there!"
Carrie's voice stopped Tyler in his tracks. A moment later he heard a shriek of victory as a small blond tyke, clad in a boxy pair of green swim trunks printed with yellow ducks, came barreling through the gap in the hedge.
With a sense of inevitability, Tyler swooped down and caught the fugitive, swinging him up in his arms.
"Go!" Dylan demanded, struggling and wriggling impatiently.
"You mean 'go home,'" Tyler amended as he carried the toddler back through the hedge.
Dylan stopped moving and looked at him curiously. "Go ho?"
"Happy to oblige you. Home you go," Tyler assured him. "And I sincerely hope you'll stay there." He squinted
against the sun
"Maybe it's because you said we can't be friends in that doomsday tone of yours," he said ingenuously. "I don't like to be told what I can and can't do. In fact, I don't like the concept of can't at all. As soon as someone tells me some-
thing can't be done, I set about trying to see that it can. So how about it, Carrie?" He offered her his hand. "Friends?''
"Oh, well, why not?" Carrie put her hand in his, and they shook like two business partners agreeing on a verbal contract. "All things considered, I guess I'd rather have you as a friend than an enemy. And since we're friends, we can be honest and open with each other, right?"
"I doubt if you could be anything but," he murmured. He had the strongest urge to lift her hand to his mouth and press his lips against her small, warm palm. He pictured her gazing at him, dazed and charmed.
"Okay, here goes." Carrie withdrew her hand from his and flashed him a dazzling smile. "Tyler, old pal, it's time for you to get lost. And I mean that in the most friendly, honest, and open way."
Four
Tyler heard baby voices and squeals of laughter and the sound of splashing water as he approached the gap in the hedge separating his property from Carrie's. He hesitated, glancing back at his house, which stood cool and quiet under the hot noon sun. Most of the party guests were gone, though a few still slept on in various rooms, sprawled on furniture or the floor, and about five or six were currently preparing some sort of breakfast for themselves in the enormous, tiled kitchen. Tyler had listened to their post-party ramblings for a few minutes and been seized by an inexplicable urge to escape.
He'd immediately fled the scene and now here he was, wearing cutoff jeans and nothing else, staring at the trail-beaten gap in the unsightly hedge. From the sounds of it, Carrie's children were playing in the backyard. Tyler frowned, realizing at that moment how much he'd been hoping for a replay of last night. That he would find her alone in her yard and they would...
They would what? he asked himself cynically. Pick up where they'd left off last night? And where would that be? The part where he had kissed her and they'd both burned with unslaked desire, or the part where she'd told him to get lost, gave him a friendly shove out the door and locked it behind him?
It felt odd, wondering about a woman. He viewed the opposite sex as an open book, one he had no trouble reading. His preoccupation with Carrie might have alarmed him if he hadn't already developed a workable course of action for dealing with it. Tyler congratulated himself on his foresight. It was so simple, so basic. The more he saw of Carrie, the less interest she would hold for him. Any marketing student with an elementary grasp of the dangers of overexposure was familiar with that theory. More is less. And Tyler Tremaine had an advanced degree in marketing.
His plan, however, did not include exposure to Carrie's three little kiddies, especially not on the minimal amount of sleep he'd gotten last night. Tyler turned to head back up to the house.
"Dylan, come back! No, no, Dylan. Don't go over there!"
Carrie's voice stopped Tyler in his tracks. A moment later he heard a shriek of victory as a small blond tyke, clad in a boxy pair of green swim trunks printed with yellow ducks, came barreling through the gap in the hedge.
With a sense of inevitability, Tyler swooped down and caught the fugitive, swinging him up in his arms.
"Go!" Dylan demanded, struggling and wriggling impatiently.
"You mean 'go home,'" Tyler amended as he carried the toddler back through the hedge.
Dylan stopped moving and looked at him curiously. "Go ho?"
"Happy to oblige you. Home you go," Tyler assured him. "And I sincerely hope you'll stay there." He squinted
against the sun
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