Operation Mommy. Caroline Cross

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Operation Mommy - Caroline Cross


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Nick said loudly, getting in his two cents’ worth. “About Amazons eating lizards.”

      Oh. That was better. Now it sounded as if she were merely deranged.

      “I’m afraid the boys are giving you the wrong impression,” she cut in. “I do tell ‘stories’ but that’s because I’m—”

      Alex’s voice overrode hers. “You’re not from the employment agency?”

      “No. I—”

      “You’re only here because you know my brother?”

      She was getting awfully tired of being interrupted. “Not in the Biblical sense,” she said firmly. For some obscure reason, it was important she make that clear. “But, yes. We’re friends. Colleagues. We work together, you see, and—”

      “I’m sorry.” He reached up and raked his hand through his hair, and despite her growing frustration, she couldn’t help but stare as it fell flawlessly back in place.

      How did he do that?

      “I misunderstood.” His formal, stilted tone wrenched her gaze back to his face. “I thought—well, it doesn’t matter what I thought. I owe you my thanks. If you hadn’t been here—” He stopped, reached into his pocket, pulled out a money clip, peeled off some bills and then thrust them at her. “Here. For your time and trouble.”

      Shay looked from him to the money and back again and told herself not to feel insulted. “That’s very kind, but no.” She stuck her hands in the back pockets of her shorts to underscore her conviction. “Hanging out with your sons has been my pleasure.” She glanced fondly at the boys. “They’re terrific. I had a great time.”

      Alex’s gaze skimmed over her. His mouth tightened as he made note of her stubborn posture. “I insist. You earned it.” Obviously irritated, he glanced away and did a slow, unhurried inventory of the room...throw rugs wadded in a heap in the corner, towels scattered across the counter and the sad remains of the laundry hamper strewn in bits and pieces across the floor. He brought his eyes back to meet Shay’s. “I will, of course, take over from here.”

      “But, Dad!” all three boys protested in unison.

      Nick’s voice rose above the others. “Shay promised to show us later how to make dinner in a fire pit!”

      A small muscle in Alex’s jaw twitched. “Not tonight,” he said firmly. “I’m sure Ms. Spenser is anxious to get back to the cottage and resume her vacation.” His hooded golden gaze swung from his sons’ imploring faces to Shay. “You are, of course, welcome to stay there as long as you like.”

      It was a very generous offer—given that the cottage belonged to his brother. Still, the underlying message was clear. She was not wanted or needed here.

      “But, Dad!” Brady repeated. “We want Shay to stay. We like to do stuff with her. We—”

      “Hey, Brady, don’t worry about it,” she said, trying to ease the child’s distress. After all, it wasn’t his fault his father 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


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