Caroline Cross - Operation Mommy

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.