Her reaction stunned her. She’d worked with a variety of men over the years and had never before felt an urge to attack one. Frozen with dismay, all she could do was stare when Alex crossed his arms and said brusquely, “Well?” His striking golden eyes bored into her.
Well, what? For the life of her, she couldn’t remember the question. “I—I—” Great. I’m babbling like an idiot.
Brady, bless his heart, came to her rescue. “Da-a-ad!” the boy wailed, making a strangled sound midway between acute exasperation and utter mortification. “You can’t call the police! C-can you?”
The child’s distress made Shay forget her own and brought her composure flooding back. “It’s all right, sweetie,” she murmured, finding her tongue. “I’ll handle this.” Carefully transferring Brutus to Mikey, she told herself she should actually be glad of this proof that Alex Morrison wasn’t as indifferent to his sons’ welfare as she’d previously believed.
Even if his behavior was a little heavy-handed.
She took a deep breath, climbed to her feet, squared her shoulders and stuck out her hand. “Hi. I’m Shay Spenser.”
Alex’s shuttered gaze flicked from her face to her bandaged shins and back again before his fingers closed briefly over hers. He inclined his head a curt inch. “Ms. Spenser.” The warmth of his palm was in marked contrast to his icy tone.
He waited. With growing impatience. Until suddenly Shay realized that, despite Mikey’s earlier mention of her mission of mercy—and the fact that she’d just handed the child his gerbil—Alex expected her to explain herself.
The last of her preoccupation with his looks evaporated.
Well, for heaven’s sakes! What did he think? That she’d crawled down the laundry chute to steal his socks and taken Brutus along as an alibi?
She drew herself up to her full height. “Mikey’s gerbil got into the hamper. I leaned in to grab him, overbalanced when one of the boys bumped into me, and the latch on the bottom gave way when I fell against it.” A trace of asperity crept into her voice. “I believe you know the rest.”
“Yes.” He made no attempt to disguise his less-than-flattering opinion of it, either. It was apparent in the stiff way he stood, feet apart, hands resting loosely on his hips, his dark gold eyes narrowed at her. “That answers one question. Now, how about the other?”
Piqued by his attitude, she stared right back. “What other?”
“What are you doing in my house? Where’s Mrs. Kiltz?”
He was definitely too uptight. Give her a laid-back, just-stepped-out-of-a-wind-tunnel kind of guy any day. “That’s two questions.”
“Oh, for—”
Brady gallantly took a half step forward and entered the fray. “Mrs. Kiltz quit, Dad.”
“What?” Alex’s golden gaze jerked toward his oldest son.
“She quit,” Brady repeated.
“When?”
The boy shrugged, clearly unconcerned with such trifling details. “I dunno.... Day before yesterday, maybe?”
“Actually, it was the day before that,” Shay supplied.
“Day before—? Why the he—” catching himself mid-curse, Alex made an admirable attempt to change course “—ck didn’t somebody call me?”
Brady frowned sternly at his father. “I did. You were supposed to call me back.”
Much to Shay’s surprise, Alex actually looked sheepish. “You’re right. I didn’t get the message. But that doesn’t explain why—”
“Mrs. Kiltz was nasty,” Nick spoke up. “She yelled. A lot.”
Mikey nodded solemnly. “Uh-huh. She said we were deviled prawns, Daddy.”
At his father’s blank look, Brady rolled his eyes. “Devil’s spawns, Dad.”
At that, Alex went very still and then his mouth tightened ominously.
Aunt Frannie better have her act together, Shay found herself thinking. Because unless she was badly mistaken, come the morning, heads were going to roll in Nannyland.
A little swell of approval washed through her. Maybe Alex wasn’t so bad, after all. Maybe he had a headache. Or maybe he was tired. Or maybe his briefs were too tight and that was the cause of his ill humor....
“All right.” He laced his hands together and ruined her attempt to give him the benefit of the doubt by turning a speculative, suspicious look on her and the boys that didn’t bode well for the future. “So who wants to explain why Mrs. Kiltz said that. And why she quit?” He knit his straight dark eyebrows together—the color startling in contrast to the gilt strands of his hair—and waited.
“Who knows?” Brady said quickly, in a tone that seemed to ask, Who knew why grown-ups did anything?
Unfortunately, Mikey took him literally. “I do,” the four-year-old said proudly. “It was Ike and Spike, Daddy. Mrs. Kiltz was ascared of them.” He turned to his older brothers. “Doncha remember? She screamed really loud when she—ow!” Mikey howled. “Daddy, Brady pinched me!”
Brady rounded his eyes innocently. “I did not!”
Alex’s voice rose as he tried to make himself heard over the sudden din. “Who are Ike and Spike?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Brady said hastily. “What matters is that there was somebody here to take care of us, to make sure nothing bad happened to us. Right?” He stared expectantly at his father.
“Yes, of course, but—”
“Then you should be happy ‘cuz Shay was here and she took really good care of us.” Brady’s mouth pursed for a second as he thought hard, and then his expression cleared. “She made us wash both our hands. And eat our vegetables before dessert. And—and she even helped us fix up our fort in the woods.”
“Yeah!” Nick joined in enthusiastically. “You should see it now, Daddy! Shay helped us make a trap door. And we cut a hole in the side, so now there’s a porthole. Shay knows how to do all kinds of neat stuff.”
His pique forgotten, Mikey quickly jumped on his brothers’ bandwagon. “She helped us make a flag to fly. It’s got skulls and daggers and—”
“Wait.” Alex raised his fingers and pinched the bridge of his nose as if to stave off a headache. A second passed before he dropped his hand and regarded the quartet facing him. “I want to be sure I’ve got this straight. Mrs. Kiltz quit because she was afraid of Ike and Spike, and Aunt Frannie’s sent you—” his amber eyes locked on Shay “—to replace her?”
“No—” Shay began.
“No way!” Brady interrupted again. “Shay’s cool!”
Alex was starting to look frazzled. “What does being cool have to do with anything?”
“Uncle Beau sent her.”
“Beau?”
“I’m staying at his cottage,” Shay interjected. “Didn’t you get his note?”
Alex shook his head, and she swallowed a groan, which was all the invitation Brady needed to plunge back into the conversation.
“See, Dad, Shay doesn’t have a house or a family and stuff. She’s all alone. No husband. No little boys of her own.” He sent a sharp-eyed look at his father to make sure Alex was paying attention, then gave a heartfelt sigh as if to underscore the sorry state of Shay’s life. “And she used to work, but now she doesn’t. So Uncle Beau said she could come here for a while and stay at his cottage.”