His-And-Hers Twins by Rita Herron Page A

cheery kitchen and bench full of country folk dolls irritated him even more. And Paige’s wounded expression made him feel like a heel.
    But he didn’t want his little girl in the house with Paige and a stranger while they were cavorting between the sheets. Another unexplained bout of fury streakedthrough him. The man was probably upstairs, waiting for his breakfast in bed. Paige’s sleep-flushed skin and near-nakedness advertised her sexuality like a billboard. He needed to leave before he made a fool out of himself.
    â€œI said come on, Summer.” He hooked his thumb toward the door.
    â€œZeke, what’s wrong?” Paige’s voice sounded so innocent he wanted to strangle her.
    â€œI don’t wanna go, Daddy. I want seconds.”
    The door squeaked open and August suddenly ran in, her eyes widening when she saw the plate of hotcakes. “Yum! Can I have some?”
    â€œSure.” Paige reached for another plate.
    â€œNo,” Zeke said at the same time.
    August’s stomach growled. “But I’m hungry, and you never make us pancakes.”
    â€œYeah, Daddy, you use those frozen ones in the box.”
    Zeke raked his hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, girls, you can’t just drop over here any time you want and eat with Paige.” He pointed to Summer. “You aren’t supposed to leave the yard without asking my permission.”
    Summer’s lower lip trembled.
    A low sound tore from Paige’s throat. “Zeke, maybe she should have told you, but—”
    â€œI don’t think you should be giving me parenting advice.” Zeke made an exaggerated point of glancing around her kitchen, speaking through gritted teeth. “At least not under the circumstances.”
    Paige’s shoulders tensed, her mouth tight with anger. “Exactly what do you mean by that?”
    â€œWell, for starters you’re not even dressed.” His gaze raked over her satiny robe, pausing briefly on the yellow fuzzy duck bedroom shoes swallowing her dainty feet.
    She planted one foot over the other as if the movement could hide the duck’s beaded eyes, then looked back at Zeke, arms akimbo. “I’m perfectly covered. And I hardly think there’s anything wrong with Summer seeing me in my bathrobe.”
    But it’s driving me crazy. He suppressed the erotic images her outfit conjured. “It’s not appropriate, Paige.”
    August yanked on the leg of his sweatpants. “Daddy, don’t yell at Paige!”
    Zeke gestured toward the hallway. “August, stay out of this.” He faced Paige, toe-to-toe. “Besides, Paige has company,” he said in a harsh whisper. “You can visit her another time.”
    â€œYou’re being mean,” August accused.
    â€œCompany?”
    Paige’s perplexed expression riled him even more. Why was she pretending innocence? “The Ferrari,” he snapped, jerking his head toward the driveway.
    He saw the minute the light flicked on her in her beautiful head. Her rosy lips curved into a slight smile, adding fuel to his temper. “Oh, you think…you mean—” She pointed her index finger toward the driveway.
    â€œYes, I mean…” He allowed his voice to trail off, hoping not to blurt out the issue just in case Summer hadn’t already seen the man.
    â€œDaddy, the vertible guy isn’t here anymore,” Summer said through a mouthful of strawberries.
    â€œWe seen him come in last night with you,” August said. “We was watchin’ from the tent.”
    â€œYeah, Daddy fell on his nose—”
    â€œGirls!” Heat climbed Zeke’s neck.
    â€œWhy was he wearing his underwear?” Summer asked.
    Paige chuckled softly. “Because he fell in the pool and got his clothes wet, sweetheart.”
    â€œGirls, we’d better go,” Zeke said tightly.
    Paige’s gaze locked with Zeke’s.