Operation Mommy. Caroline Cross

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СКАЧАТЬ had all the social grace of a wounded barracuda. “We’ll do it another time.”

      “But—”

      “Shh. It’s been a long time since your dad’s been home—” two could play the double message game “—and I’ll bet he’s anxious to have you all to himself and hear about everything you’ve been doing.” She smiled blandly at Alex; it was clear from the tight set of his jaw that he got her point. “I’ll just get my things and be on my way.” She took a step toward the door.

      “Wait.” Alex’s command stopped her in her tracks. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” He held out the money.

      Why, why, was he determined to reduce her friendship with the boys to nothing more than a business transaction? She opened her mouth to once more reject his offer, then hesitated as an idea came to her.

      After all, there were several excellent local charities that could use a little financial boost. And if she managed to teach Alex Morrison a little lesson about the pitfalls of misdirected noblesse oblige, why, so much the better.

      “How much?” she asked slowly.

      He blinked. “How much what?”

      “How much are you offering?”

      Surprise flashed in his eyes at the unexpected turn in the conversation. “Three-fifty.”

      “Oh.” Shay reached out and plucked the bills from his hand. “I’m worth much more than that. Make it five hundred and we’ll call it even.” She’d match it, she told herself firmly, determined not to give in to a pang of conscience when he did a double take.

      To his credit he didn’t utter so much as a single word of protest, however. He simply retrieved his money clip, peeled off another crisp hundred and fifty and handed it to her. Yet the flinty look in his eye told Shay she’d made her point.

      “Thanks.” She pocketed the money.

      “Yeah, Daddy,” Brady said importantly. “Shay’s worth extra ‘cuz she won a Howitzer.”

      She started for the door. “That’s Pulitzer, Brady.”

      “Hey, wait up,” the boy cried, moving to her side. “I’ll help you pack.”

      “And I could carry your bag if you want.” Nick picked up the theme. “I’m real strong.”

      “Wait for me, wait for me!” Mikey cried, determined not to be left behind. “I wanna help, too!”

      A surge of fondness painted a smile on her face. They were really great kids. “Thanks, guys.”

      She felt Alex’s eyes burning a hole in her back all the way to the door.

      * * *

      Incredible. Alex had met some brazen, impudent, nervy women in his day, but Shay Spenser was in a category all by herself.

      He recognized her name now, of course. Beau had mentioned her on more than one occasion, usually with a pithy comment when she’d scooped some story he’d been working on.

      Alex wondered how she’d talked his brother into letting her come here. But then, beneath his macho exterior, Beau had a notoriously soft heart and a well-known weakness for pretty women. He’d probably taken one look at those big, dark eyes and that exotic mouth and been like putty in her hands.

      Still, that was no excuse for allowing her access to Alex’s sons. Just as soon as he got the chance, he was going to have to have a talk with his middle brother.

      In the meantime Ms. Spenser had better watch her step. Unlike Beau, Alex was neither soft-hearted nor governed by his hormones, despite that odd moment earlier, which he now recognized as nothing more than a temporary side effect of stress.

      It wouldn’t happen again, and a certain petite brunette would find herself on the receiving end of trouble if she tried to manipulate him. She’d gotten away with it once with the money, but he wouldn’t be caught out that way again.

      Feeling marginally better with that realization, Alex decided he might as well take advantage of the boys’ preoccupation with her leave-taking. He headed down the hall to his own suite of rooms, made another quick call to Aunt Frannie’s answering machine, stripped out of the clothes he’d had on for too many hours and took a quick shower.

      When he opened the bathroom door twenty minutes later, his sons were sprawled on the king-size bed, waiting for him.

      He took a long look at their mournful expressions, hitched the towel tighter around his waist and hiked across the pale gray carpet to his dressing area. “You boys get your friend on her way?”

      Brady stared up at the skylight in the ceiling and sighed gustily. “Yeah. She looked so sad. Now she’s back at the cottage, all alone.”

      That wasn’t entirely true, Alex thought. She had his five hundred dollars for company.

      Nick plucked at the down-filled satin comforter. “She said we could come over tomorrow and see her if it was okay with you. Is it okay?”

      “We’ll see,” Alex said, using the universal parent phrase for no way. Reaching into a drawer for clean underwear, he watched warily out of the corner of his eye as Mikey slid off the bed, walked over and slipped his sneakered feet into Alex’s size-ten dress shoes. The child began to shuffle around, reeling dangerously.

      Nick flopped over on his stomach and began to kick his feet up and down. “You know what, Daddy?”

      “What?”

      “I’m hungry.”

      Alex gladly welcomed the change of subject. He thought for a second and realized he was, too. Furthermore, it appeared he and the boys were on their own for the evening. “Tell you what. Why don’t you go wash your hands and faces while I finish dressing, and I’ll take you out to dinner.”

      Nick scrambled off the bed. “Really?”

      For an instant something nagged at him, something he knew he ought to remember, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. “Really.”

      Brady popped upright. “Can Shay come?”

      “No. This is a family meal.”

      “Can we go to Letsa Eatsa Pizza?” Nick asked.

      Alex sighed. Nick always wanted to go to the pizza joint. Still, it was his first night home. “Sure.”

      “All right! Come on, Brady.” Clearly afraid his father would change his mind, Nick dragged his elder brother off the bed, yanked Mikey out of Alex’s shoes and hustled the pair out the door.

      Ten minutes later the four of them trooped down the front steps to get in the car. It was then, when Alex saw the open driver’s side door and recalled his earlier panicked flight, that his nagging sense of something undone made sense. With a groan, he slid onto the seat and tried the ignition. Sure enough, the battery was dead, drained by the combination of courtesy lights and warning buzzers activated by the open door. Well, hell.

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