Book Details

Harlequin Enterprises,
Paperback original, August 2005, ISBN: 0-373-77055-3

Prologue

Thanks to a fatal plane crash in the Andes, Yank Morgan had been raising his sister's children for the last two years and as a result, even his chest hair had turned prematurely gray. Ages fourteen, twelve and ten, the girls were independent little scrappers and didn't hesitate to tell him exactly what they thought. Which was why Annabelle, the oldest stood before him, hands on her hips, her breasts obvious in her too tight shirt. When the hell had she developed boobs, he wondered and ran a hand through his wiry hair.

At the moment though, his niece's face concerned him more than her chest. Black eye liner smudged around her bright blue eyes and though normally he didn't mind letting the girls make their own mistakes, her racoon-like appearance was too humiliating to contemplate so he decided to step in.

Keeping his assistant and one time lover, Lola's words in mind, he opted to tread gently with the young girl. "Dang it, Annie you look like Jim McMahon getting ready to throw a pass."

Her blue eyes filled with tears and she ran from the room. He raised his gaze toward the ceiling. "What the hell did I do wrong now?"

"Way to go, Uncle Yack." He glanced over to see the youngest, Micki, standing in the doorway glaring at him.

"It's Yank," he muttered, though they both knew that the nickname she'd started to use the day she'd come to live with him gave them a special bond.

"You insulted Annie," Sophie, the middle one said, joining them.

Figures they'd gang up on him. "You think so?"

He turned towards them for the first time and his gaze zeroed in on ten year old Micki immediately. Or rather his gaze zeroed in on her tits.

"What the hell are those?" he asked, pointing to the overly round, out of proportion, different sized melons poking from beneath her shirt.

"Like 'em?" She squared her shoulders.

Yank winced.

Lola, his assistant and one time lover, strode into the room. She showed up on weekends to do the girls' laundry along with her own. Despite the fact that having her around meant he was aroused and forced to remember their short lived affair, Yank was grateful for her help and he couldn't imagine his life without her. Not that he'd ever admit as much. The woman and his feelings for her scared him worse than raising the girls.

"Who's been stealing things out of the laundry basket?" Lola asked.

Sophie snickered. "Ask Micki."

"Michelle?" Calling the kid by her given name, Lola strode over and glanced down at Micki's protruding chest. "Do you have my bra?"

Yank groaned.

"Nope. No bra." Micki chewed on her lower lip, a sure sign the kid was lying.

"Yes you do to have it! You see?" Sophie reached a hand down the front of her sister's shirt, pulling out the padding. Then she glanced down at her hand and frowned. "Hey those are my socks you stuffed your boobies with!"

"Are not!" Micki said, crossing her arms over her now flat chest.

"Are too!" Sophie retorted.

Yank felt a headache coming on.

"Well you gave them to me," Micki shouted, tears filling her eyes.

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"You know the rules. Once you give, you can't take back!" Micki cried and darted out of the room, following Annabelle's earlier lead.

Sophie took off after her.

Yank met Lola's amused gaze and desire flared between them. A strong yearning flickered in her deep set eyes, an echo of the spark he'd spent the last two years working hard to suppress. Though they'd once had a hot affair going between them, the girls' arrival had put everything on hold. Now, knowing he was a father for life scared the pants off of him. No way would he add a wife, as well.

Before Lola could get any ideas in her head about all of them being one big happy family, he decided she needed a reminder that only the agency and the girls would ever bind them.