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“Then use that. You’ll be fine, I promise.”
She nodded again. The reporter came in from the kitchen with his coffee, sandy blond hair styled with some kind of miracle mousse that made it look silky soft but prevented it from moving even a fraction of an inch out of place. His eyes were too blue to be real. Colored contacts, she thought. He was fairly well known in Oklahoma, did TV spots all the time in addition to his print columns. He looked like he should be an actor or a model.
He sat down with his coffee, looked from one of them to the other. “Are we ready?”
Caleb glanced at her, brows raised. She smiled and gave him a nod. “As ready as we’ll ever be, Dirk. But before we begin, I do want to make one thing clear. Maya is very close to her due date. If anything said here seems to me to be upsetting her in any way, the interview is over.”
The reporter’s brow quirked just a bit, but he nodded. “Fair enough.” He took a small tape recorder from his jacket pocket, set it on the table, clicked it on. “But, uh…I understood the baby wasn’t due for a couple of weeks yet.”
“Well, here’s where you get the first of several scoops on your competitors,” Caleb said, his gaze brushing over Maya before returning to the reporter. “We’re having twins.”
Dirk Atwater’s eyes widened, then he grinned. “Twins!”
“Yeah. They run in my family.”
“You never told me that,” Maya said, sending Caleb a frown.
His smile faded, and he licked his lips. The reporter’s eyes sharpened, and he watched every move they made so closely that Maya felt as if she was under a microscope. “I’ve been meaning to,” Caleb said softly. “We’ve been so busy, with so much going on, there’s barely been any time.”
She nodded in agreement with that.
“At any rate,” Caleb went on, “twins normally come early, and Maya’s doctor expects them to make their entrance into the world any day now.”
“Holiday babies,” Dirk Atwater said, scribbling a note. Then he sat back in his seat. “You won’t mind my making the observation that you two seem…close. Far from the relationship that’s been depicted between you by some of the tabloids.”
Maya frowned. “I don’t know how those people could even pretend to know anything about Caleb and me. They’ve never even spoken to us.”
“That’s why we invited you here today, Dirk. We want to set the record straight,” Caleb put in.
“For the sake of your senate campaign?” Dirk asked.
Caleb frowned. “At this point, I don’t even know whether there will be a campaign.” The reporter looked skeptical. Caleb sighed. “Right. I don’t expect you to believe that. But for now, let’s keep this on the subject all right?”
“All right. Fine. This young woman is carrying your children, Mr. Montgomery. What do you intend to do about that?”
Caleb smiled then, not at the reporter, but at her. “I intend to marry her, just as soon as we can make arrangements.”
The reporter blinked in surprise, looking from one of them to the other. “You’re…getting married?”
Maya nodded at him. “On Christmas Eve, as a matter of fact.”
Dirk Atwater glanced at his photographer, who shrugged at him. Then he looked back at Maya and Caleb again. “That’s…tomorrow.” And Maya nodded. “So… let me get clear on this,” Atwater said. “You’re getting married just to make things legal…to, uh, legitimize the babies, correct? Then, Caleb, you’ll head back to the mansion in Tulsa, while you, Ms. Brand, will continue on just as before.”
Caleb started to speak, but Dirk held up a hand. “If you don’t mind, sir, I’d like to hear Ms. Brand answer this one.” Caleb nodded, and Dirk focused on Maya. “So tell me, Ms. Brand. What happens after the wedding?”
Every eye turned on her. She fumbled, searched her mind, but damned if she knew what to say. She and Caleb hadn’t talked about what would happen after the wedding. Not in any detail. But then she recalled what Caleb had told her—fall back on her dreams if she got confused. And that should be easy enough. Lord knew she’d nurtured those dreams for long enough that she knew them by heart.
She smiled at Dirk, got to her feet, belly first, and managed to accomplish the task even before Caleb leapt to his feet to help her. She walked to the window in the rear of the room, parted the curtain. “Come here, Mr. Atwater.” He did. And she pointed. “See that level spot, at the top of the hill, right back there?”
Dirk nodded.
“That’s the piece of this property that belongs to me. It’s where we’ll build our home. A big cabin, made of pine logs, with a huge cobblestone fireplace, and knotty pine window boxes, where I’ll grow pansies and geraniums. There will be a big room in the back for all my crafts and sewing. I’ll give lessons in my spare time. No one in this town is as good at crafting as I am.” She smiled, felt her cheeks heat just a little, but it was the truth.
“I didn’t know that,” Atwater said. And he looked around the room, taking in the decor—the wilderness scene handpainted on the blade of an old crosscut saw, hanging over the picture window. The embroidered samplers, the needlepoint table scarves. He glanced at her again, brows raised. “These are all yours?”
She nodded.
“You ought to see the baby quilts,” Caleb put in, and she thought she heard pride in his voice but reminded herself he was playing a part. For the reporter.
