Daddyhood. Gayle Kaye

Sabrina had had other parents refuse her—and that was their right, of course. Her research was important—but not if there was a price to pay.

      She felt Gabe’s gaze bore into her with the coldness of a laser beam, his shoulders squared, as if for battle.

      “My work could be invaluable, a benefit both to Hannah and Heather, as well as for other children. Please tell me you’ll at least think about it,” she said as her final salvo.

      With that she turned and started toward the front door.

      “Sabrina.”

      She paused near the entry. She would almost think he’d reconsidered—except that she remembered the hard glint in his blue eyes and knew he hadn’t changed his mind.

      Still she turned around.

      “I know what’s best for the twins,” he said flatly.

      Sabrina drew in a breath. “Of course,” she answered, and let herself out through the front door.

      

      Gabe heard the decisive shut of the door and knew she was gone. He pounded on the mantel. Hannah and Heather had been doing so well, settling in here with him, making new friends. They’d begun to feel like a family together, which was what Gabe wanted for them all.

      Oh, there were still times, sometimes late at night, when the twins cried for their mother, not fully understanding why she couldn’t be there with them, why she couldn’t hold them or kiss away their pain.

      That was when Gabe would hold them, brushing away their tears, smoothing back their curls with his big ungentle hands and telling them everything would be all right, when he knew, without their mother, that would never totally be true.

      Gabe went in to say good-night to his daughters and found them snuggled into the sheets on their big double bed. Their world was still too fragile for Sabrina to upset it.

      But he wasn’t sure she understood that.

      He probably owed her some sort of apology for barking at her the way he had. Her research was important, he supposed. But Gabe just wasn’t sure he dared risk two vulnerable little girls to whatever study the scientific Dr. Moore had in mind.

      She’d asked him to at least consider what she’d proposed, and short of an apology, he supposed he could give her request a fair consideration.

       Chapter Three

      Sabrina had just returned from observing a group of four-year-old triplets in the Play Lab and she had a major headache.

      “I don’t want to be disturbed unless the building’s on fire—and perhaps not even then,” she told her secretary, Violet Franz, as Sabrina whizzed past the older woman.

      Violet peered over her glasses at her. “Are you ill, child? You don’t look well at all.”

      Alerting the motherly Violet to an illness of any magnitude would risk bringing on chicken soup—or Violet’s equivalent of such.

      And Sabrina didn’t want that.

      She needed to be alone in her office where she could forget her afternoon with the unruly triplets. The Nelson trio were adorable—during nap time. At play they could only be termed little hellions.

      ’I’m fine, Violet,” Sabrina returned. ’I just have a lot of work to get done.”

      “That may be, girl, but first you need a cup of tea,” the woman replied.

      At least it wasn’t chicken soup. Sabrina would settle for tea. In truth, it sounded terrific about now. “That would be nice. Thanks.”

      She ducked into her office, fully appreciating the temporary sanctuary it offered. Her desk was piled high with work in various stages of completion, and Violet had placed several phone messages neatly beside the phone. An overwatered philodendron struggled for life in front of the window, the only decoration in Sabrina’s efficient, stark office.

      She touched a finger to the soil in the pot, which was wet enough to grow a water lily, and wondered how she could convince Violet the poor green thing would fare much better without her constant pampering.

      With a rueful smile and silent apology to the plant, Sabrina settled into her desk chair and picked up her phone messages, intent on returning the calls.

      “I put a spot of lemon in,” Violet said, interrupting Sabrina’s thoughts and sashaying toward her, cup and saucer in hand. “This should fix you right up.”

      Only if the tea were laced with something stronger, Sabrina thought, but she thanked Violet and accepted the cup, trying a tentative sip. It was strong and hot, the lemon a nice added flavoring. Sabrina was beginning to feel better already.

      Sometimes her secretary’s ministrations were helpful. “Give me a minute and I’ll have my notes from the Play Lab session ready for you to type,” she told Violet. “I’m feeling like a new woman alread—”

      Before she could finish the sentence there was a sharp rap on the open office door. Sabrina and Violet glanced toward it in unison, but only Sabrina recognized the man filling the doorway.

      Gabe Lawrence.

      She gave a small gasp of surprise.

      He looked totally intriguing in casual gray slacks and a crisp white shirt that hugged his lean, male torso. His hair was carelessly windblown, and a quick smile crossed his lips, then disappeared from sight “Hope I’m not interrupting,” he said. “But the door was open.”

      Sabrina couldn’t seem to find her voice, and Violet’s gaze darted from Gabe to Sabrina and back again, faster than a spectator at a tennis match. The woman was definitely curious.

      And so was Sabrina.

      “That’s all for now, Violet,” she said, not taking her eyes from the man in the doorway. “You’re not interrupting a thing,” she added to Gabe. “Come in.”

      Neither her gaze, nor Violet’s, missed his easy long-legged stride as he crossed the room and settled into the chair in front of Sabrina’s desk. Behind him Violet skittered out, closing the door and leaving the two of them alone.

      Sabrina had not expected to see him again after the twins’ birthday party two days ago, but he had never been far from her mind. She’d thought of the twins, as well. And the happy little household she’d glimpsed.

      She couldn’t help but wonder if Gabe had come as friend or foe. No doubt he’d read another chapter of Multiples to disagree with her about. She frowned.

      Well, she could be big about this. “So,” she said, “what brings you to the institute?”

      He leaned back in his chair and drew a long breath. “I felt I owed you an apology for the other night. I hadn’t meant to bark at you the way I did. And I’m sorry.”

      Sabrina studied his face, reading sincerity in it. “Apology accepted, though it wasn’t really necessary. You’re the twins’ father—and it’s your right to do what you feel is in their best interests.”