Triple treat Read online

  She sank back down onto the glider, waiting for the drunken idiot to finish so she could direct him back to the

  Tremaine ''picnic/' And then she heard the branches of the hedge rustle again and she jumped to her feet, enraged.

  "No!" she called furiously. "Not again. Absolutely no one else can come over. I won't have my yard used as the neighborhood outhouse! Why don't you just—just use your host's pool?"

  "What an uncharitable suggestion!" Tyler Tremaine was striding toward the porch, looking crisp and unrumpled, his designer polo shirt and well-fitting khaki slacks as neatly pressed as when she'd seen him hours earlier. Unlike his guest, he appeared virtually untouched by all that hearty partying. "Fortunately, I make it a practice to have the pool drained and cleaned after every party."

  "From what I've heard about the goings-on in that pool, you should have it permanently sealed with a slab of concrete," Carrie retorted. She stood behind the closed screen door, her arms folded in front of her chest, and glowered balefully at Tyler, who stopped on the other side.

  "You look like a disapproving schoolmarm," he observed.

  "Well, I feel like I'm living next to a reform school for obnoxious delinquents. One of them—Nature Boy—is over there," She pointed to the drunk standing in the far corner of the yard, his back to them. "Why don't you go see if he needs any help?"

  "Not me. That's not my scene. He'll have to manage on his own."

  Tyler had barely finished speaking when the other man's knees suddenly buckled. They both watched him crumple to the ground.

  "Oh, great!" Carrie scowled. "You're conveniently off the hook now. Since he passed out in my yard, I suppose that makes him my responsibility." She shoved open the porch door, her action so quick and unexpected that Tyler had to jump out of the way to avoid being slammed by it.

  Feeling the damp grass cool under her bare feet, she strode through the yard, despite the fact that she was clad only in pajamas. The two-piece cotton set, teal-blue boxer-like shorts and a matching oversize camp shirt, looked more like sportswear than pajamas, anyway, Carrie decided.

  Tyler followed her. It did not escape his notice that she was clad only in pajamas. He rather appreciated that she didn't offer a coy apology for her attire—or the lack of it. He well knew that standard ploy drew even more attention to the aforementioned apparel. And then he frowned. Didn't she want him to notice her? And if not, why not? In his experience, women always wanted to be noticed by Tyler Tremaine.

  Carrie came to a halt beside the young man's prone figure.

  "What are you going to do?" Tyler asked curiously. A light breeze ruffled her loose pajama shirt, momentarily outlining the soft, swelling curves of her breasts. Tyler blinked rapidly. Were his eyes playing tricks on him or had he seen her nipples budding tautly against the teal-blue cotton cloth?

  Carrie ignored his stare and his quick, sharp gulp for air. She was concentrating solely on the unconscious man lying in the grass before her. 'Tor starters, I thought I'd see if he's still breathing."

  The man gave a sudden loud snort and started to snore.

  "I guess that answers your question," observed Tyler. "Now what?"

  Carrie heaved an exasperated sigh. "Well, I can't just leave him out here, can I?"

  "Why not? It's a warm night and it's not raining, so that rules out his demise from hypothermia or drowning. Look at it this way, he's camping out. Sleeping under the stars. Think of all those hardy campers who pay campground fees for that privilege. Lucky Ted is doing it right here for free."

  Carrie threw him a quelling glance. "His name is Ted?"

  "Ted Qualter. Has a cushy government job, a political appointment, courtesy of his rich daddy who refused to allow him to work in the family firm. It was a wise decision because young Ted is an incompetent bozo."

  "So they put him in government instead? My hard-earned tax dollars go to pay this—this incompetent, drunken bozo's salary?"

  "Appalling, isn't it?" Tyler watched her walk around to stand in front of Ted Quaker's feet. She carefully lifted one of his feet, and then the other.

  Tyler's eyes slid over her. She was small, but her legs were long and smooth and shapely. And enticingly bare. Rounded thighs. Well-shaped calves, slender ankles. Tyler realized that he was mouth-breathing. He ridiculed himself for practically drooling over her—it looked as though she was wearing her brother's pajamas! In the meantime, there were plenty of women right next door wearing...

  Tyler shook his head, as if to clear it. What those women were or weren't wearing could not even be compared to Carrie's decidedly unsexy getup, yet he wasn't over there lusting after any of them. He was here, gaping at Carrie Shaw Wilcox, who was scarcely aware of his presence. Except, perhaps, as an irritant.

  Oblivious to Tyler's intimate scrutiny of her, Carrie tucked Ted Quaker's feet under her arms and firmly clasped his legs with her hands.

  Tyler watched the contortions of her supple body as she concentrated on her task. * 'Carrie, what are you doing?" he asked raspily.

  "Can't you tell? I'm dragging him." She gave Ted Qual-ter's inert body a ferocious tug, but didn't budge him an inch. Carrie tried again, then dropped his feet. "I'm trying to drag him," she amended, gasping. "He's as heavy as a ton of cement!"

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  42 TRIPLE TREAT

  "Where did you intend to drag him? Surely you're not planning to put him up in your house for the rest of the night?"

  'Til tell you exactly what I'm planning. Fm going to get him inside, call a cab to take him home and offer the cab* bie extra money to tuck Ted Qualter safely into his own bed And Fm going to charge it all to you." She determinedly picked up Quaker's feet again. "Are you going to help me? If not, please go back to y out picnic. Fm sure your guests are missing you."

  Her inflection left no doubts as to her opinion of the party. Unlike earlier in the evening, Tyler was reading her loud and clear. "No, they're not. I haven't been around all night. I left the party when you did. Fd just returned and was pulling into the driveway when I saw Qualter thrashing around the hedge, so I followed him down here."

  "Why?"

  "Why did I follow him? I really don't know. Curiosity? A chivalrous impulse, perhaps? Take your pick." Tyler lifted Qualter under his shoulders. "I can manage by myself—you can put his feet down."

  Carrie dropped them gladly. "A chivalrous impulse?" she repeated mockingly. "You were going to protect me from him?"

  "I didn't know you were out here. Maybe I thought Fd prevent him from vandalizing your property. Save myself the hefty lawsuit you'd undoubtedly file against me for being the causative agent."

  "Your party being the cause that he was here in the first place. I see. Are you always so suspicious or do I strike you as exceptionally litigious?"

  "A man in my position can never be too careful," Tyler said in a tone as droll as her own.

  "And is a man in your position also required to perform odd tasks, to avoid the incessant threat of being sued?" She trotted alongside as Tyler dragged the other man toward the

  house with commendable ease. "This particular odd task being one of them."

  "Dragging a body, you mean? You have to admit, I'm quite adept at it."

  "Oh, you are. If I ever need to dispose of another one, you'll be the first person I'll call."

  "Aha, is that a smile I see on your face? Is your unmitigated disgust beginning to fade? We're finally starting to have fun, aren't we?"

  "No, to every question," she assured him. She held open the porch door, then the door to the kitchen as Tyler dragged Qualter inside.

  He followed her through the house, finally laying the man down on the floor in the front hall, the very place where he had first met Carrie, just yesterday afternoon. Carrie stayed behind in the kitchen, placing the call to the taxi company.

  "They said the taxi will be here in about twenty minutes," she said, joining Tyler a few minutes later. "You can leave the cab fare and go home now."

  "In a hurry to g
et rid of me?" Tyler smiled sardonically. "Well, I'm in no hurry to leave. I can't go home. My home has been taken over by rapacious party-goers, remember? And they'll be there until they wind down and/or sleep it off, which will probably be sometime late tomorrow afternoon."

  "Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? Because I don't. It's your own fault that your house is filled with those people."

  "Oh, I certainly won't deny that." Tyler shrugged. "It's my own damn fault, all right."

  Carrie eyed him puzzedly. "I don't get you. You throw this big, wild party and then you leave it. You're hanging out here instead of over there with all your friends."

  "And I surely do have a lot of friends, don't I?" Tyler drawled. "I wonder if half the people partying in my home

  tonight have ever met me? And if anyone has realized that I've been gone for the past seven hours/'

  "What is this? A chorus of the poor little rich boy blues?"

  "Please don't accuse me of that!" Tyler held up one hand, grinning. "I've never bought into that poor little rich kid crap, not even when I was a little rich boy. I've always enjoyed my status. Now that I'm a rich man, I appreciate the privileges, opportunities and luxuries that go with my fortune and position even more."

  "Well, ifs refreshing to hear someone finally admit it," said Carrie. "Because it seems like every time I turn on the television or pick up a magazine, some spoiled rich dope is whining about the burdens of having money. It makes me crazy! I'd like to see them try the alternative, living without it, having to worry over every cent spent, scraping and saving."

  "Is this your life you're describing?" interrupted Tyler, frowning.

  "No, not exactly. But close enough, I guess." Carrie looked sheepishly at the ground. "I know I shouldn't complain—so many people are far worse off."

  "Didn't your husband leave you and the triplets well-provided for? Didn't he have a good life insurance policy?"

  "Ian didn't have any life insurance. He was only twenty-five when he died, and the triplets hadn't even been born yet. Why would we need life insurance?" Carrie's laugh was painfully ironic. "After all, young husbands don't die. A twenty-four-year-old woman in her second month of pregnancy won't be widowed."

  "The invulnerability of youth," Tyler said quietly.

  She smiled wistfully, and her blue eyes were sad. "I don't suffer from that anymore."

  She looked soft and young and vulnerable. But Tyler was the one who felt weak. He looked at her, feeling inexorably

  drawn to her. He raised his hand, feeling an overwhelming urge to touch her, to establish some connection between them. He dropped it just as quickly. Because he wanted to touch her so much, he didn't dare allow himself to do so. A paradoxical reaction for a man who was accustomed to doing exactly as he pleased, rules be damned.

  Just as abruptly, Carrie straightened, squaring her shoulders firmly, her expression mirroring her determination. "I don't indulge in fits of self-pity, either," she said defiantly. "And I certainly don't want or need you feeling sorry for me. I may not be in your income bracket, but I manage. I have social security survivors' benefits for the triplets and I make a decent salary."

  "You work?"

  "No, my fairy godmother pays the utility bills and makes the car payments. She waves her wand, and food and clothing and toys magically appear in place."

  "I deserved that." Her humor touched him as much as her insistent courage. He really should get out of here, Tyler warned himself. Because if he stayed... "What sort of work do you do?" he asked, staying instead of leaving, ignoring his own wise counsel and not even caring that he'd done so. "And how do you manage a job with three babies to take care of?"

  "I'm a nurse at the Hospital Center, in the labor and delivery suites. It's a wonderful place to work. So much happiness and hope and promise." Her expression was warm and bright. "It's so.. .real Life affirming, you know?"

  The cynic in Tyler surfaced. He was liking her far too much, and it was time to create some distance. "Yes, I know exactly what you mean. I could describe my chosen field of marketing in the same glowing terms."

  Satisfied, he waited for her retaliation to his sarcasm. Perhaps she would throw him out, and deservedly so.

  Instead, she shocked him by laughing. "Believe it or not, my brother, Ben, says the same thing about his career in

  advertising! He thinks a new account is more than equal to a newborn baby. Maybe even better, because a new account will produce money for the agency while a baby will cost its family money/'

  Tyler stared at her, feeling peculiarly as if he'd been punched in the gut. When she laughed like that, with her beautiful blue eyes glowing, her lovely mouth curved into a heart-stopping smile, he felt...

  What? How? He could define neither these unknown feelings she was evoking within him nor the way she affected him. It was indescribable, intangible yet very real.... Life affirming? So much happiness and hope and promise. Her voice seemed to ring in his ears. Tyler sucked in his breath and tried to drag his eyes away from her. He managed to do so for at least ten seconds.

  Carrie appeared unaware of his internal upheaval. She chatted on, kneeling now to check Ted Quaker's pulse. "I'm very lucky because the Hospital Center offers a schedule for nurses to work two twelve-hour shifts on weekends and get paid for a forty-hour week. I work the 7:00 p.m. to 7:00 a.m. shifts for four straight weekends and then have one off. Alexa, and sometimes Ben, stay here with the babies while I'm on duty. Not tonight, though. Needless to say, this is my free weekend."

  The noise from the party next door seemed to crash and fill the silence of the darkened house. Carrie rose to her feet. "Too bad I'm not working tonight, since I'm not sleeping, anyway," she added, casting him a swift, stern glance.

  Tyler cleared his throat. "I agree that the—uh—noise is intolerable."

  "Of course, you were counting on that."

  He looked startled. "I'm not sure what you mean by that."

  "Oh, come on, Tyler, why not be honest with me? I know why you had this party and why you invited me to it."

  "Do you?"

  She nodded. "You wanted me to have a taste of how terrible it can be, living next door to you. How noisy and shocking and downright unwholesome for my innocent little children."

  "And why would I want to do that?" Tyler asked, curious to hear her answer, in spite of himself. He realized then and there that he had underestimated her and wondered just how badly.

  "You want me to sell this property to you," Carrie said frankly.

  Tyler's eyes widened. Very badly, it seemed. She was right on target. Was his scheme that transparent? Or was she perceptively gifted? Whatever, she'd bested him once again.

  While his thoughts bounced around his head like Ping-Pong balls, Carrie continued blithely, "You hate having this decrepit old house right next door and you probably have some big plans to build something on this lot. A tennis court, maybe? A stable for polo ponies? Or maybe a grotto and a waterfall and water slide and bigger pool for all those aquatic adventures you and your friends so enjoy."

  Tyler winced. "I don't play polo and I have no intention of installing a grotto or any other—uh—water sports facility."

  "Ah, the tennis court, then." She smiled at his look of consternation. "I'm right, aren't I? And you're stunned that I figured it out." She tilted her head and gazed at him squarely. "Give me some credit, Tyler. I may not be rich, but I'm not stupid."

  "No, you're not. You're very bright." His voice was hoarse. "Beautiful and bright, sexy and feisty. Honest and hardworking." He gulped. "And the mother of eighteen-month-old triplets."

  "You look petrified." Carrie actually laughed. "Well, you needn't be, Mr. Tremaine. I have no intention of seducing you, so you needn't worry about falling victim to my feminine wiles. You're safe from me."

  Tyler stared at her, torn between wanting to join her laughter, which was unmistakably mocking, and wanting to throttle her. There was still another action he wanted to take, an alternative that seemed ir
resistible, given the intense interest she aroused in him.

  "Maybe you're the one who should be worried/' His eyes held a predatory gleam. "Suppose I decide to seduce you and you fall victim to my masculine charms? I've been told they're... considerable." He took a step closer to her, then another.

  "I'm sure they are." Carrie stood her ground, not backing up even an inch, though he now was standing so close that his body brushed hers. "Regardless, I'm immune."

  "Are you?" The soft feel of her body under her cotton pajamas brushing against him sent a jolt of sensual electricity through him. He stared down into her face, mesmerized by it. "Let's see."

  "Hmm, the obligatory pass, I presume?"

  "I'm going to kiss you, Carrie. I want to, and you want me to."

  "Not only the obligatory pass, but if s complete with the routine stock phrases.''

  Tyler smiled, against his will. "If you're trying to make me laugh— "

  "I'm trying to dampen your ardor by deflecting you with humor," Carrie amended. "Is it working?"

  "Not when you're wriggling against me like that."

  "Oops, sorry. I'll stay still as a stone. Well, go on then, complete your pass. I've resigned myself to it. I'll let you kiss me once and save you the trouble of chasing me around the room for it." Carrie grinned cheekily at him.

  Tyler gazed down into the humorous warmth of her eyes, and his breath caught in his throat. For the first time in a long, long time, he found himself intrigued and excited by the mere prospect of a kiss. "I think I'll take you up on your generous offer."

  Carrie felt the hard strength of his hands on her shoulders, felt the warmth of his body heat penetrating into her. With a sort of detached calm, she watched his head descend toward her, her eyes taking in every detail of his face. His sharp blade of a nose, his unique green eyes, now half-closed, his jaw shadowed and virile, in need of a shave at this late hour. And then there was his compellingly sensual mouth, his lower lip, full and well-shaped. Enticed and fascinated, she focused on it. Suddenly, she was neither detached nor calm.