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“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.
Brady shifted restlessly on the seat beside him. “Come on, Daddy. Let’s go.”
The other two boys bounced up and down on the back seat like a hyperactive chorus line. “Let’s go, let’s go,” they chanted.
With a heartfelt sigh, Alex twisted on the seat to take in all three. “Sorry, boys. The battery’s dead. We’ll have to do it another time.”
First disbelieving, then reproachful, his sons stared at him.
“But you promised,” Nick said forcefully.
“That was before I found out the car was dead.”
“I’m hungry,” Mikey said plaintively.
“I’m not,” Nick wailed. “I’m starved. What’re we gonna do?”
“I know!” Brady said happily. “We can go to Shay’s! She can drive us in her car and we can all have dinner together!”
“Yeah!” sang the chorus.
“No,” Alex said firmly. He couldn’t afford her help. He climbed out of the car. “I’ll fix dinner.”
The boys climbed out after him, their expressions dubious.
“You can cook?” Brady asked. “Really?”
“Yes. How about toasted cheese sandwiches?”
“Okay,” Mikey said.
“Okay,” Nick said.
“Yech.” Brady made a choking sound and clutched theatrically at his throat. “I hate toasted cheese.” He scowled. “I bet we wouldn’t have to eat dumb old toasted cheese if Shay was here. She knows how to cook really good food.”
Alex ground his teeth as they trudged back inside. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”
It was, too. At first. Even though he wasn’t very familiar with the kitchen, since the housekeeper normally did the cooking, Alex easily located the cheese, bread and margarine and some potato chips.
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.
