“What do you feed them?”
“Breast milk.”
Quade’s gaze immediately went to her chest and saw the outline of her breasts pressed against the blouse she was wearing. His heart thudded at the memory that was so fresh in his mind of when his mouth had captured a hardened nipple between his lips and how he had indulged in a little breast time himself by sucking on her breasts the same way a baby would. He also remembered just how much she had enjoyed the little byplay.
“I take it that he was born first,” he decided to say, placing his gaze back on his son and away from Cheyenne.
“Yes, and when he gets older, I’m going to depend on him to look after his sisters. Look after them, but not boss them around,” Cheyenne said softly.
He lifted a brow and smiled. “Do I hear a little resentment in your voice? Did your brothers boss you around?”
She smiled back and moved away from the crib toward the door. When they were outside in the hall she said. “I don’t have any brothers. My parents had three girls and I’m the youngest and yes, my sisters tried bossing me around. And then there are my male cousins. Four of them. And they were bossy, as well, although they were convinced being that way was for my own good.”
For some reason the thought pleased him that she had people looking out for her. He bet she had been a beautiful child. She’d certainly grown up to be a beautiful woman. He could imagine all the men who’d come calling.
“So what do you think?”
He glanced over at her as they walked back toward the living room. “About what?”
She stopped walking. “Not about what, but about who,” she said, more than a little annoyed. “What do you think of Venus, Athena and Troy?”
He shrugged, not sure he could fully explain to her or anyone just how he was feeling at that moment. He decided to try. “I never planned to get married or have children. My chosen career took me all over the country and would have been hell on a family.”
“But do you like children?” she asked him.
“What’s there not to like? To be totally honest, I’ve never been around a child for a long period of time. If you’re trying to find out how I feel about them rather than what I think of them, then I would have to say that as strange as it may seem, I feel attached to them already. Seeing them in there, knowing they are a part of me, something the two of us created... I can’t help but be overcome by it all. And just to think they are dependent on us makes me—”
“They aren’t dependent on you, Quade. I’m not asking you for anything.”
He stared at her for a long moment before he spoke. “You don’t have to ask. They are mine, Cheyenne, and I claim them as mine. For a Westmoreland, that means everything.”
He could tell that his words bothered her for some reason and she proved him right when she said in a frosty tone. “I think we need to talk.”
“Evidently we do. Lead the way.”
She did and he followed, getting the chance to ogle her backside once again.
Chapter 4
“Are we going to talk or are you going to wear out your carpet?”
Cheyenne finally stopped pacing and glanced over at Quade. Then she wished that she hadn’t. He had taken the wingback chair in the room with his long legs stretched out in front of him. His T-shirt fit his body like a glove and showed off his broad shoulders. Then there were the handsome contours of his face that could still turn her on, basically tilt her world to the side of the irrational. It had been so easy for him to get to her that night. On several occasions since then her body had longed for his, distinctively craving for all the things she had experienced in his arms and in his bed. To say he had left a mark on her in more ways than one would be an understatement.
She knew they needed to talk, but she wanted to school her words carefully. He was the father of her babies and they both knew it, however, she wanted him to understand that Venus, Athena and Troy were just that—her babies. What he’d said earlier about claiming them as his bothered her because the last thing she wanted was for him to consider exercising any type of legal rights. Any thoughts of claiming them might give him even more ideas. What if he tried to dictate where she and the babies lived, what they did and what part he felt he should play in their lives? she wondered. She had grown up all her life under someone’s thumb and she refused to let it happen again.
“I’m waiting.”
She glared at Quade. If he was trying to get on her last nerve, then he was succeeding. Pursing her lips, she fought the urge to give him a smart-ass comeback. She needed to feel him out and couldn’t waste her energy on anything other than that. “Why did you say that a Westmoreland’s responsibility meant everything? It’s like your family lives by a certain code of ethics or something. Please explain.”
Cheyenne’s pulse jumped a few notches and she drew in a deep breath when Quade shifted in his seat to another position. The air surrounding them seemed to stir, and she became besieged by a blanket of desire just from his body movement. Her senses went on alert and she thought that it wasn’t good to react this way toward him. But she couldn’t help it. She was honing in on him, remembering how he looked in a pair of black boxers and at the same time recalling just how he looked when he had taken them off.
“I’ll gladly explain it,” he said, interrupting her thoughts and making Cheyenne so very grateful he wasn’t aware of her attraction to him. More than anything, she had to stay in control.
“You mentioned I didn’t appear surprised about the multiple births and I told you I wasn’t because I’m a twin. What I didn’t add was that my father is also a twin. And his twin brother John and my aunt Evelyn also have a set of twins—Storm and Chase. My twin’s name is Ian. On top of that, my father’s youngest brother, Corey Westmoreland, fathered triplets.”
“That many multiple births in one family?” she said, amazed.
“Possibly more according to my father. He’s convinced a Westmoreland who appeared in the national newspaper earlier this year when his wife gave birth to quadruplets is related to us. Dad’s now into this genealogy thing, trying to find a connection.”
After a brief pause, he said, “Now to get back to your question, there are thirteen male Westmorelands from my generation and we’re all close. Very early, when we began sniffing after girls, our fathers instilled in us one rule that would always govern a Westmoreland. We were raised to take responsibility for our actions, no matter what they were.”
Cheyenne sighed deeply. “But that’s just it. I don’t need you taking responsibility.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
She could see he would be difficult. He reminded her of her male cousins who were also hell-bent on living by some code of honor, some invisible creed. At least Chance, Sebastian and Morgan were. Donovan, the youngest of her Steele male cousins—the only one not married—was still trying to find himself. At the moment, Donovan was happy to find himself right smack in the middle of any woman’s bed. But still, she was fairly certain if he ever got caught by being careless, he would do the right thing by the woman regardless of whether he wanted to or not. Whether he loved the woman would not be a factor. In his eyes—the eyes of a Steele—a union would be a justified restitution for exhibiting a lack of judgment.
Evidently Quade and his other Westmoreland male kin had the same thought processes. Well, she didn’t need him or any man sacrificing themselves for her and her babies. Getting pregnant hadn’t been intentional on her part, just like she knew getting her pregnant hadn’t been his intention. It was an accident. It happened and she could live with it mainly because the results—Venus,