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He had the cheese sliced and was buttering the bread when the phone rang. Brady answered, spoke for a moment, then looked unhappily over at his father. “It’s Ms. Layman from the nanny place.”
Alex laid down the knife. “Good.” Given his frame of mind, he thought this was one conversation the boys would be better off not hearing. “I’ll take it in the study.”
“What do you want to talk to her about?” Brady demanded.
“A new nanny,” Alex said firmly. “Hang up after I pick up in the other room.”
“But, Dad—”
“I’ll be right back.” He strode down the hall and into the elegant room he considered his sanctuary. Although the walls and carpeting where done in a restful eggshell color, liberal splashes of navy, gold and maroon made the room unmistakably masculine. He picked up the phone. “Hello? Ms. Layman?”
Francine Layman, an energetic, gregarious woman of sixty, seized the initiative. “Mr. Morrison! I’m so glad you’re back! I’m sure you’ll be pleased to know that I’ve convinced Mrs. Kiltz not to sue.”
Alex, who’d started to sink down in the big, burgundy leather chair behind the massive, teak desk, shot to his feet. “Excuse me?”
“As long as you’ll agree to make a settlement toward her therapy, she’s agreed to sign a release absolving you of responsibility.”
“Responsibility? For what?”
Frannie uttered a slightly put-upon sigh. “Her breakdown, dear. She still refuses to discuss specifics, simply shudders and whispers about giant, man-eating spiders, but I’m sure that’s only temporary. A few sessions with a first-rate therapist, the correct dose of tranquilizers, and she should be right as rain.” She paused, then added thoughtfully, “You might consider calling an exterminator, though. Just to be on the safe side.”
“Exterminator?” Alex ground out. “The Terminator is more like it! The woman walked off and left my children alone and unsupervised! And you didn’t even bother to contact me!”
“Oh, no, dear. That’s not true. I talked to your son, Bradley—”
“Brady.”
“Yes, that’s right. Such a delightful boy. He assured me he’d spoken to your secretary. He said he was waiting for you to call back and that when you did, he’d have you call me. Oh, dear. Wasn’t that true?”
“Yes, but—” Alex began to pace, marching back and forth between the grass-papered walls, which were liberally dappled with evening shadow.
“According to Brady, your fiancée was there and was perfectly happy to take over—”
“My fiancée?” Alex slammed to a stop. “I don’t have a fiancée.”
There was a tiny moment of silence. “But I called this very phone number, Mr. Morrison. And I spoke with a delightful young woman, a Miss—” there came the faint sound of rustling paper “— Spenser, who assured me she’d be glad to stay with the children until your return. Such a pleasant, charming young woman. After what your son said, I just assumed... Oh, my. Did you two break up, dear?”
Alex clenched his jaw so hard pain shot into his ears. “Ms. Spenser happens to be a friend of my brother’s,” he said stiffly.
“Oh, my.” Frannie sounded unmistakably scandalized. “I’ve heard of such things, of course, but...how awkward for you.”
Puzzled, he did a quick review of the conversation. His spine snapped straight. “Wait a minute! I didn’t mean—”
“Please, Mr. Morrison,” Frannie interrupted anxiously. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I really do think it would be best if we refrain from discussing your personal problems and get back to business.”
Alex pinched the bridge of his nose and grimly concluded she was right. Besides, the effort of correcting her mistaken conclusion was probably not worth the added aggravation of prolonging the conversation. “Fine.”
“Good.” She injected a bright note into her voice. “Is it safe to assume, then, that you’ll be wanting a new nanny since you’re not getting married?”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “Yes.”
“Good, good. How does next week look for you?”
“For what?”
“Why, for conducting interviews.”
His hand tightened in a stranglehold around the phone. “How about tomorrow.” It was not a question.
“Oh, I don’t think—”
“Good. Go with that.” With an effort, he kept his tone polite. “I’ve got work to do. I’m due in New Mexico the end of next week and I need—”
“Daddy?” Mikey stood uncertainly in the doorway.
“Hold on.” He covered the mouthpiece and addressed his son. “I’m on the phone, Michael. What do you want?”
“Brady says to ask you if cheese is supposed to turn black.”
“It depends. What cheese are we talking about?”
“For the sandwiches.”
Alex frowned. “It’s turning black? Why?”
“I dunno.”
Of course not. “Where is it?”
“With the bread.”
He prayed for patience. “Where is the bread?”
“In the toaster.”
“Ms. Layman? I have to go. I’ll expect to hear from you first thing in the morning. You can tell me then about the candidates you’ve lined up.”
“But—”
He slammed down the phone, scooped Mikey up and rushed down the hall. Between Ms. Spenser, Aunt Frannie, being dog tired and having his wits scared out of him twice in two hours, he’d had about all he could handle. He threw open the kitchen door and plunged inside at the same instant the smoke alarm went crazy.
His gaze shot to the counter. Not only was smoke pouring in an oily stream from the toaster, but the appliance was crackling ominously, as well.
Swearing a silent blue streak, he set Mikey down and leapt across the room, jerked the cord from the outlet and swept the device into the empty sink. Then he stalked over and threw open the outside door to let some fresh air into the smoke-filled room.
He whirled to face the boys. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he shouted at Brady and Nick, furious as he realized how badly they might have been hurt.
“Uh-oh,” Nick said. “You said a bad word.”
Brady’s jaw rose pugnaciously. “Mikey and Nick were hungry. And you were on the phone forever!”
“I don’t care how long I was on the phone! You’re lucky you didn’t burn the damn house down! Don’t you know better than to put cheese in the toaster?”
Nick’s lip trembled. “We were only trying to help.”
Brady slung a protective arm around his younger brother. “Yeah! How’re we supposed to know? It’s not like we’ve got a—a mom to show us, you know!”
The boy’s logic—plus the wrenching reminder of their lack of a mother—punched a giant hole in Alex’s temper.
As swiftly as it had come, the anger drained out of him, replaced by guilt as he registered the mixture of anxiety, misery and defiance on all three young faces. Way to go, Morrison. You go weeks without seeing your kids, then come home and yell at them.
Before he could think of what to say, Mikey took a look around at the tableau of angry faces and burst into tears.
Like dominoes falling, the two older boys promptly covered their eyes and also began to sob.
Well, hell. What was he going to do now?
Three
More than slightly out of breath, Shay jogged along one of the wooded paths that crisscrossed the estate. After dropping her things at the cottage, she’d decided to go for a run, hoping the exercise would dispel the jumble of emotions her meeting with Alex Morrison had inspired.
Fat chance. No matter how hard she tried, how fast she ran, or how often she told herself the man was walking proof of the old adage that beauty was only skin-deep, she couldn’t get him out of her mind.
Of course, it really had nothing to do with him, she told herself firmly, as she darted around a protruding branch. Her concern was solely for the boys. They were bright, sweet, and funny. In the space of a few weeks they’d managed not just to get under her skin, but also to worm their way into her heart. Mostly because they were three of the most engaging little kids she’d ever met. But also because they were desperate for some adult attention. If there was one thing Shay could identify with, it was that.
Parental indifference had been a fixture of her own childhood, a by-product of being raised by two busy professionals so caught up in their own careers they had no time for their own child. In Shay’s case, the experience had ultimately made her independent, self-sufficient and motivated. But it had still been a lonely way to grow up, and it was not the kind of bond she wanted to share with Brady, Mikey and Nick.
They deserved better.
Which brought her back to the problem—all six blond-and-glorious feet of him—and also helped to explain why, she supposed, she couldn’t put Alex from her mind.
The situation would sure be easier, she thought crossly, if the man were a tad more approachable. Then she could simply talk to him—diplomatically, of course. Unfortunately it appeared the boys had inherited all of their charm, not to mention their senses of humor, from their mother.
Still, she promised, as she emerged into the clearing in front of the cottage, if the opportunity presented itself, she would try to do something to improve the boys’ situation. It was the least she could do, after the way they’d opened their home and their hearts to her these past few weeks.
Slowing to a walk, she wiped her damp face on the tail of her T-shirt, crossed the small patch of lawn and stepped onto the stoop. At first glance the cottage appeared nondescript, a simple, shingled structure with a small stoop and modest carport. Yet its initial appearance was deceiving, since the roof sloped up to meet a back wall made almost entirely of glass that commanded a breathtaking view of Puget Sound.
Inside, the floor plan was open and airy. The kitchen, living and bedroom areas flowed into each other and were filled with creature comforts. The appliances were ultra-modern. The plushly padded chairs and sofas, grouped around the massive stone fireplace, were covered in velvety corduroys and buttery leathers in restful shades of white, turquoise and navy. There was a state-of-the-art stereo CD system and a big-screen TV and VCR. The platform bed that dominated one corner was big but cozy and boasted a feather tick.
However, it was the view that always gave Shay the greatest pleasure. Tonight, evening sunshine glittered like gold dust on the vast expanse of slate blue water that filled the horizon. A large catamaran tacked in the wind, its spanking white sails billowing in a playful breeze. Farther away, purple-gray islands rose out of the haze, their shapes indistinct in the soft golden light.
Sighing with pleasure, she kicked off her shoes and began to strip off her clothes as she made her way toward the bathroom, leaving socks, shorts, shirt and underwear in her wake. She was naked by the time she stepped around the curving glass-block wall onto the tile floor of the oversize shower.
She washed her hair, then turned the shower head to pulse and gave herself up to the sheer bliss of the pounding hot water, the rhythm in perfect sync with the surf outside on the beach.
Except this stretch of Puget Sound didn’t have pounding surf, for heaven’s sake.
Her head shot up as she realized the steady thumping she heard was actually someone hammering on the front door. She twisted the spigots and scrambled out of the shower. Grabbing a towel, she mopped at her hair, her sense of urgency increasing as the knocking continued. “Hold your horses! I’m coming!” She tossed the towel to the floor, yanked on a clean tank top and a pair of sweat shorts, raked a hand through her hair and dashed for the door.
“What!” she demanded, throwing it open.
“Hey, Shay!” Faces freshly washed and their shirts miraculously tucked into their pants, Brady, Nick and Mikey beamed at her as they stood crowded onto the tiny front porch.
“I bet you’re surprised to see us!” Brady cried.
Given the way she and Alex had parted, surprise didn’t begin to cover it. “What are you guys doing here?”
“We came to see if you want to drive us to town for some pizza.”
“Well, I—”
“Daddy was gonna, but he left his car open and it died,” Mikey explained sadly.
“Yeah. And then he said he’d make dinner, but the lady called from the nanny place and the cheese burned and he yelled and we cried and he said a bad word,” Nick reported. “He said, ‘oh, sh—’”
“That’s enough, Nicholas.” Alex’s cool voice snapped Shay’s head around. “You wouldn’t happen to have some jumper cables, would you?”
She shook her head, her eyes widening as he stepped out of the deep shadows to her right, where the stoop met the angled support post of the carport. He’d taken a shower, too, she saw. Freshly shaved, he looked like dynamite in a loose black shirt and casually pleated off-black pants. She shivered in reaction, then flushed as she felt goose bumps rise in several strategic locations.
Darn. He was doing it again. Making her mind feel dazed, her heart race and her skin feel shivery by simply standing there.
It wasn’t until a few seconds later that she realized part of the problem was the breeze. She glanced down, appalled to discover it was molding the soft cotton of her shorts and top to her damp skin—and to those darned goose bumps.
Alex followed her gaze, only to find he’d made a serious mistake at the undeniable evidence that her complexion wasn’t her only outstanding attribute. The rest of her was pretty damn...outstanding, also. Lord knew he was getting a firsthand view, because, unless he was badly mistaken, she wasn’t wearing a stitch of underclothing.
His whole body went tight at the realization, and a persistent little drumbeat of need kicked to life deep inside him.
Its advent irritated the hell out of him. He didn’t need this, not after everything else he’d had to put up with today. What was her problem? Didn’t she have sense enough not to come to the door practically naked? Didn’t she realize it could be anyone standing there gawking at her?
Yeah. But it’s not anyone. It’s you, Morrison.
He jerked his gaze away from the ripe swell of her breasts. Locking his gaze on the boys, he tried to remember how the trio had managed to talk him into this in the first place. “I told you this wasn’t a good idea. Obviously, we’re interrupting. We’ll go out to dinner tomorrow night. After the car is fixed.” Without Ms. Spenser. He stepped off the stoop, expecting them to follow.
Brady didn’t budge an inch. “But, Dad! You said you’d ask!”
“Yeah!” Nick agreed. “We already washed our faces again and everything! That’s two times in one day.”
Mikey stared at his father, his eyes wide and his expression earnest. “You pwomised.”
Alex stared back into those eyes so much like Allison’s, which were still slightly red-rimmed from crying. Damn.
With a resigned sigh he turned back to Shay, careful to keep his gaze on her face. “Look. I can see this isn’t a good time for you. But the boys—” he couldn’t help the slight stress he put on the word “—were wondering if you could see your way clear to give us a lift into town. I’d be happy to pay for your time and your gas, of course, and—”
“—we want you to have dinner with us!” Brady finished with a rush.
Alex nearly gave himself whiplash as he jerked sideways to stare at his son. “We do?”
“Uh-huh.” The boy’s expression was guileless. “‘Cuz it’s the nice thing to do. Isn’t it, Daddy?”
Alex decided then and there to add the kid to his growing hit list: Whitset, his brothers, James and Beau, Mrs. Kiltz, Aunt Frannie, Shay and now Brady. Maybe he could get a volume discount. “Yeah. Sure.”
Shay made no attempt to disguise her opinion of his sincerity. “Really?” She raised one dark eyebrow skeptically.
All three boys stared expectantly at their father.
“I’d be...honored.”
Honored, my great-aunt Fanny. Shay had seen men about to face a firing squad look more enthusiastic. Not that he needed to worry. She had better things to do with her evening than spend it with a man who seemed to regard her with the same enthusiasm most people reserved for dental plaque.
Although she did have to admit, a perverse part of her was actually enjoying his discomfort. And there was the chance that an evening spent exposed to his less-than-charming personality might cure her of the fluttery, breathless feeling that overcame her every time she got too close to him. Sort of like aversion therapy.
Because he really was great looking. So tall, so broad-shouldered, so lean and lithe and golden....
Then again, maybe it was hopeless. “I’m sorry. I don’t think—” She broke off as she felt a tug on her shirt. She glanced down at Brady. “What?”
His big brown eyes were wide with entreaty. “Please? We really, really, really want you to come.”
“And I’m so-o-o hungry,” Nick said sadly.
Mikey stepped forward and clasped her hand in his smaller one. “Please?”
Aw, heck. She knew she was going to regret this. “Okay. I’d love to.”
“All ri-i-ight!” the trio whooped, nearly knocking her down as they swarmed forward to give her a hug.
Forgetting all about Alex, she laughed and hugged them back. “Just let me run a comb through my hair, put on some shoes and grab my keys, okay?” She opened the door wider, stepped back and gestured them in before she turned and headed toward the bathroom. “It’ll just take a minute.”
“Oh, boy!” Brady grinned happily at Alex, while Mikey and Nick jumped up and down. “Aren’t you excited, Daddy? Isn’t this great!”
“Oh, yeah,” Alex murmured, watching Shay’s retreating fanny flex enticingly beneath her clinging shorts. To his disgust, his little drumbeat of need turned into a full-fledged throb. “Great.”
He hoped to hell she was going to put on some underwear.
* * *
Port Sandy had been founded in 1889. Once an active fishing port, the picturesque little town nestled on Catchup Bay had long since come to depend on tourist dollars for its commerce. Antique and gift shops, bookstores, card shops and ice-cream parlors crowded the half mile of wharves and boardwalks along Main Street. Boats of all sizes and shapes dotted the bay, while graceful Victorian houses painted in a palette of soft pastels perched on the surrounding hills, keeping watch over the colorful scene.
Letsa Eatsa Pizza, tucked away on a side street, was a local, rather than a tourist, hangout. It was small and cavelike, with a dozen booths, half as many tables, a jukebox, a pair of pool tables and a video arcade.
Because of the nice weather, business was light for a Friday night. Alex headed for the largest booth, only to have Brady stop, grab his brothers and literally shove them onto the bench of a smaller one. “We want to sit here,” he said, scrambling in after them.
Alex opened his mouth to object, both at the booth’s small size and because he and Shay had been left to share a seat, when he caught her look of dismay. For some perverse reason, her reluctance rankled. “After you,” he heard himself say, even though he didn’t want to sit by her, either.
With a narrow look, she sidled past, giving him ample cause to regret his impulsive words when her breast brushed his arm. A jolt of heat coursed through him. Apparently she’d only managed to secure half the standard ration of undergarments.
She slid gingerly onto the unoccupied seat and moved as close to the far wall as she could.
Alex settled in beside her, careful not to touch her.
Brady beamed at the pair of them, his smile so huge it took up most of his face. “Gee. Isn’t this fun?”
“Oh, yeah. Fun,” Shay and Alex murmured.
“Can we play video games?” he inquired.
“No.” Alex was definitely not in the mood to be left alone with Shay Spenser. Although he wasn’t looking at her, he could feel her soft warmth just inches away. And even though he knew, intellectually, that his awareness was the result of being overtired and frustrated in general—by the whole damn day, not just her—it wasn’t making his body’s lusty response any easier to tolerate. Besides, the boys were the ones who’d wanted her here; they could darn well entertain her.
“But I want to play Space Invaders.” Nick said. “Please, Daddy?”
“No.”
“Aw, come on,” Brady wheedled. “Just a few games?”
“Please, please, please?” Nick begged.
“I don’t have any quarters.” The minute he said it, he knew it was a mistake. The boys’ faces lit up like butane torches.
“I bet Shay has some,” Brady said. “She always remembers to bring them, just for us. Doncha, Shay?”
Shay hesitated as four pairs of brown eyes locked on her. Three pairs were shining with total trust; one pair was narrowed warningly. Great. “I believe your dad said no.”
“But if he did say yes,” Brady pressed, practicing early for a career as a prosecuting attorney, “would you have some for us then?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“I knew it!” The eight-year-old whipped his gaze toward his father. “See, Daddy, she does have some! So can we play? Please?”
“Well, since Shay has quarters, by all means.” Alex sent her a swift look so frigid it could have given frostbite to a polar bear.
Shay’s mouth tightened, but she swallowed the retort that sprang to her lips. After all—this was therapy, right? Any moment now her hormones would wake up and realize Alex was more annoying than he was sexy, and the infernal internal hyperventilating that struck her every time he got too close would disappear. Right?
Clinging to that thought, she reached into her purse and pulled out two rolls of quarters, which she quickly divvied up, giving the boys each a few dollars’ worth.
“Oooh, thanks!” They slid willy-nilly off the bench and dashed away.
Except for Brady, who stayed long enough to say to his father, “See, Daddy, didn’t I tell you? Isn’t she wonderful?” He smiled happily and gave Alex a pat on the shoulder. “Now, you guys can have a nice talk. And you don’t have to worry about the little kids, because—” he drew himself up “—I’ll take care of them for you.”
He turned and scampered off. Perplexed by his unexpectedly generous offer—Brady’s primary concern was usually not his brothers’ welfare—Shay glanced sideways at Alex. “What do you suppose that’s all about?”
“Beats me.” He glanced away as the waitress arrived to take their order. The moment the woman finished, he slid out of the booth and moved to the opposite seat.
Shay heaved a sigh of relief, finally feeling as if she could breathe again. Even so, an awkward silence sprang up that didn’t end until after the waitress returned with a basket of bread sticks, a pitcher of root beer and five glasses.
Alex filled a glass and handed it to her. “So, you’re a friend of Beau’s.” It was more a statement than a question,
“Yes, but—”
“Not in the Biblical sense,” he finished for her. “So you said. Besides—” he gave her an assessing look “—you’re not his type.”
She wondered what that meant, then decided she didn’t want to know. “Thank goodness. He’s not mine, either.”
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