She might not be that girl, but she also wasn’t going to protect herself at the expense of not knowing what it was like to be in Simon’s arms. She had a feeling that experience would be worth the risk.

MONTANA’S PREVIOUS SEXUAL experiences had been limited to two of her three long-term boyfriends. She’d given her virginity to her college boyfriend, and her battered heart, ironically, to a doctor she’d met during her brief time in Los Angeles. Neither had appreciated the gift.

The former had taught her that a man saying he loved her didn’t mean he would keep his promises. The latter had convinced her she would never be good enough. So it made sense to be wary around Simon. Only she wasn’t.

Standing in front of her closet, trying to figure out what to wear for a date that was pretty much about sex, she knew she probably should be concerned. Simon was well traveled, sophisticated, emotionally distant. Not exactly a great bet. She wasn’t sure what he was looking for in a woman, but she doubted the female in question would be a small town dog trainer.

But Simon was also kind and when she stared into his green-gray eyes, she found herself wanting to get lost in him. Nothing else mattered. She liked his smile, his attention to detail, the way he kissed, how he’d apologized for having a stick up his ass. She wanted to know about his past, his scars and what he most regretted.

She knew she was taking a chance—she’d never given her body lightly. What made her think she could hand it over to a man who’d made it clear he was leaving? Shouldn’t she try to protect herself more? But she couldn’t seem to muster the least bit of self-preservation.

If she was into fooling herself, she would say that making love with him was a way to get to know him better. Maybe that was true, but in reality she wanted Simon in her bed because she had a feeling he was going to take her places she’d never been, and didn’t a girl deserve a little of that in her life?

Which led to her current dilemma. What to wear? Even though they were going to end up in bed, and probably fairly quickly, showing up na**d was too aggressive for her. Silky lingerie was an obvious choice, but she didn’t have anything remotely sexy or silky. Her nicest nightgown had been a Christmas present from her mom, and she didn’t think Simon would be blown away by white cotton covered with cartoon dogs. She did, however, own one black lace matching bra and panty set. The panties were actually more G-string than brief, but she could survive that for a couple of hours.

Some kind of dress would be good, she thought, looking through her options. She had a simple blue one that was sleeveless and slightly fitted. The long zipper down the back would make the undressing part of the evening simple. Although, based on how Simon had managed her bra with a quick touch of his fingers, she probably shouldn’t worry about clothing complications.

Still smiling at the thought, she dressed, then checked her makeup. She was wearing enough to make her eyes look bigger, but not so much that she would smear it all over him. Shoes weren’t going to be a problem. She would be barefoot.

A quick glance at the clock confirmed she still had an hour to wait. Anticipation danced in her stomach. Maybe she could call him and suggest he arrive earlier. Or she could—

Her cell phone rang. As she grabbed it, she saw Simon’s name on the screen.

“I was just thinking about you,” she said by way of greeting.

“Montana, I can’t come over. There’s been an accident.”

She sank onto her sofa. “Not with you.”

“No. A guy on a motorcycle. He’s going into surgery now. He has internal injuries. When they’re done, I need to work on his face.” He drew in a breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“I wouldn’t have canceled except—”

“Simon, you don’t have to explain. This is what you do. Saying you have to help someone isn’t unreasonable.”

“You’re not angry.”

“No. Wildly disappointed, but not angry.”

“Good. I didn’t want you to think I was trying to get out of our evening.”

“Sex,” she teased. “You mean sex.”

“I do mean sex.”

She thought about how he’d touched her. “I’m pretty sure you were looking forward to that. I’m okay with waiting.”

“As long as it’s not too long.”

“Sooner would be better than later,” she told him.

There was a pause. “I have to go. I’ll call you when I can.”

“I hope he’ll be okay.”

“Me too.”

Then he was gone. Montana sat there for a few seconds and then stood. It looked like this wasn’t going to be a G-string night after all.

She walked into her bedroom and changed her clothes. She’d barely slipped on sandals when the phone rang again. She saw a different man’s name on the screen.

“Is it time?” she asked breathlessly.

“It’s time,” Raoul shouted. “It’s time. She’s in labor.” His voice was thick with panic. “She’s too damn calm. We’re going to the hospital. You’ve got the list, right? There’s a list. You know what to do?”

“Breathe,” she instructed. “We all know what to do. I’m calling my mom first. She’ll be there in less than ten minutes. If I don’t get her, I’ll come over and stay with Peter until she’s available.”

Pia and Raoul weren’t just expecting twins—they’d also adopted a ten-year-old boy. Denise had promised to stay with him when Pia went into labor.

“Okay. Good. One of the neighbors will be here until then.” He swore again. “I gotta go. Pia’s in labor.”

Montana grinned. “I got that part. Go on. I’ll make the calls and we’ll all meet you at the hospital. Oh, and tell her I love her.”

“I will. I’m hanging up now.”

“You do that.”

The phone clicked.

For a guy who had guided an NFL team to a Super Bowl championship, Raoul sure was flustered. She guessed childbirth had a way of doing that to a person.

She quickly called her mother. Denise answered on the first ring. “Hello?”

“Pia’s finally in labor.”

“Thank goodness. She’s been desperate for weeks. I’m all packed. I’ll head over to their house right now.”

“Great. I’m going to make calls and then go to the hospital.”

“Keep me informed.”

“I promise.”

Denise laughed. “I can’t wait to hear if they’re boys or girls. It’s going to be a good day.”

“It is, Mom. I love you.”

“I love you, too, honey.”

Montana hurried to the living room. The call list was sitting on the coffee table. She started dialing.

“IF IT’S TWINS, does it take twice as long?” Nevada asked.

Montana laughed. “I don’t know and I’m not sure I want to. Labor would be the same, wouldn’t it? I guess the delivery would be different.”

They were sitting in a waiting area on the maternity floor. Other families gathered together, talking, anticipating their own miracle, but Pia’s group was the largest. Mayor Marsha was already there, as were Charity and Josh Golden and their baby. Montana’s brother Ethan was there with his wife, Liz. The girls and Tyler had been left at home.

Food had been spread out on the various tables, and a cooler filled with water bottles and soda stood in the corner. The other people waiting had been invited to eat and drink. The atmosphere was more like a party than a hospital setting. Something Pia would have appreciated.

“Did I tell you Dakota called?” Montana asked.

Her sister shook her head. “Is she coming?”

“As soon as she gets Hannah to sleep. Finn is going to stay home with Hannah.”

Denise came in with a redheaded boy at her side. Montana stood and walked over to them.

“Peter,” she said, giving him a hug. “You doing okay?”

The boy looked more curious than worried, which was probably a good thing. He’d been through a lot, losing his birth parents in a horrible car accident. He was the only one who’d survived. After a couple of years of foster care, he’d found a home with Pia and Raoul. Now he was about to get a couple of baby brothers or sisters. Or possibly one of each.

He hugged her back. “I wanted to see,” he told her, looking both defiant and a little embarrassed.

“He was concerned that we were all worried,” Denise said, resting her hand on Peter’s shoulder. “And hiding it from him.”

“I love Pia,” he said simply. “I want her to be okay.”

“We all want that,” Montana told him, taking him by the hand and leading him over to the table.

He picked a peanut butter cookie and took a bite. “So she’s okay?”

“We haven’t heard any differently.”

There was no point in discussing the possible complications of childbirth. Statistically Pia was going to be fine. Montana didn’t see the point in worrying a ten-year-old needlessly.

“Do you think Raoul is scared?”

Montana laughed. “I’m sure he’s terrified. You’re an easy kid to have around, but babies are small and helpless and they can’t tell you what’s wrong.”

Peter nodded. “I guess I’ll have to help. You know, be a big brother.”

She wrapped her arm around him. “My parents appreciated my big brothers helping with me and my sisters.”

Dakota arrived a few minutes later. Mayor Marsha claimed Peter and sat chatting with him. Denise shared a sofa with her daughters.

“You’ll be next,” she said, smiling at Dakota.

Dakota touched her still flat stomach. “I’m not due until early March, Mom. We’ve got a ways to go.”

“Still. I’m very excited.”

Nevada sighed. “I’m feeling pressure.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Denise said.

“You didn’t have to.”

Denise looked at Montana. “Do you feel pressure, too? I don’t want you to. While it would be nice to have more grandchildren, if you’re not interested in starting a family or in carrying on the Hendrix tradition, I’m fine with that.” She paused and drew in a deep breath. “My heart will mend eventually.”

Montana looked at Nevada. “Pressure? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

A doctor came into the waiting room. Everyone turned toward her, but she walked to another family.

Dakota heard Mayor Marsha telling Peter, “Pia thought she would get the cat instead.”

The boy laughed. “I’m glad she didn’t. We have a dog now. Dogs are better than cats.” He glanced around the room, then added, “You can play with a dog. Cats like to sleep a lot.”

“So I’ve heard,” Marsha told him.

Montana listened in on other conversations. Moments like these reminded her why she loved living in Fool’s Gold. This was more than a small town—it was a real community. People took care of each other. She knew that when Pia went home, women would bring her all kinds of casseroles. That she wouldn’t have to cook for at least a month.

She knew that mothers and grandmothers would stop by regularly to offer advice and free babysitting so Pia could nap or take a walk. Raoul would find himself drawn into the lives of those around him in ways he didn’t expect. She liked being a part of this—having a place she could depend on. Fool’s Gold wasn’t like other places. Living here meant belonging.

Raoul stumbled into the waiting room. Everyone stopped talking and looked at him.

The normally handsome former football player still wore scrubs. His hair was mussed, his gaze unfocused. He glanced around, as if not sure where he was.

He saw Peter and grinned at the boy.

“Girls,” he said at last. “We have two girls. They’re so beautiful. Perfect. I don’t know how I got so lucky. First you and now these girls—Adelina Crystal and Rosabel Dana, in honor of Keith and Crystal Danes. Our friends will live on in our daughters.”

As one, everyone stood and rushed toward him. There were cheers and hugs and calls of congratulation. Montana made sure her mom was with Peter, then slipped out of the room. It would be a while before anyone could see Pia or the babies. She wanted to check on Simon.

She made her way to surgery and stopped at the nurses’ station. The older woman there glanced up from her computer screen.

“How can I help you?” she asked pleasantly.

“I’m checking on Dr. Bradley. He’s in surgery. Do you know how long he’s going to be?”

The nurse’s smile faded. “He’s not in surgery this evening. Would you like me to page him?”

Montana opened her mouth, then closed it. Not in surgery? But he’d said…

She swallowed. “No, thank you.”

She turned away. Heaviness settled on her chest.

Simon had lied. She couldn’t believe it, except there was no other explanation. Obviously he’d had second thoughts. He’d changed his mind about sleeping with her, but rather than tell her, he’d made up some stupid story.

Her eyes burned, but she refused to cry. It was bad enough that she’d been willing to give herself to him without even the hint of a relationship. She wasn’t going to make it worse by wasting tears on him.

She turned to leave, then shook her head. No. She wasn’t simply going to walk away. Dr. Stick-Up-the-Butt might think his behavior was okay, but she was going to let him know it wasn’t. She might not be sophisticated or elegant or whatever it was he usually went for, but she wasn’t going to let him treat her like this. Not without telling him exactly what she thought of him.