HER SUPERHEROES RUSHED to the back doors as a team to let the dogs in. Five minutes, she thought, as fresh mayhem began. She’d give them another five to settle down before getting ready for bed.
They wouldn’t be the only kids in Boonsboro Elementary the next day who’d gone to bed a bit late and hyped on sugar.
She put the bags of Halloween treats far back on the counter—away from curious dogs and sneaky kids—and thought just how much she wanted to yank off the wig, peel out of the costume, scrub off the Storm makeup.
Fun while it lasted, she decided. But she was ready for the fun to end. She let them chatter about their big night, thrill the dogs with games of tug—then brought the hammer down.
“Okay, boys, time for bed.”
She got the expected But, Moms, the protests, excuses, negotiations—and stood firm against them as much for herself as the boys.
She wanted her comfortable pj’s, some quiet, maybe a big mug of tea and a book.
“I guess you’re not that interested in going to the arcade on Sunday.”
“Yes, we are!” Harry shot her a stunned and appalled stare.
“Boys who argue with their mothers don’t go to arcades. I want you in your pajamas. And you’re all going to brush your teeth extra well tonight. Let’s move out, troops.”
She herded them upstairs, stood in their doorway a moment to make sure they got started. “Don’t throw your costumes on the floor. Put them in the costume box—I mean it. I’m going to get in my pajamas, too.”
“Can we wear our costumes to the arcade?” Liam asked her.
“We’ll see. Put them away for now.”
She crossed to her own room, started to yank off the wig, but caught her reflection in the mirror. The grin snuck up on her. “Well, you’re no Halle Berry, but not half bad.”
Pulling off the wig, she let out a long, long sigh.
In the closet, his breath shallow, his eyes riveted to the thin opening in the slats, Sam wondered what he was doing. The moment of clarity sent his heart into a gallop.
He’d broken into her house like a thief, and now he hid in her closet like—it didn’t bear thinking about. What if she opened the doors? What would he say? Do?
She’d put him in this position, this terrible position, and now . . .
The moment passed as she tugged the ridiculous costume off her shoulders, drew the snug skirt down her body. Her hair tumbled free down her back as she folded the skirt, laid it on a little chair.
She wore a plain white bra, plain white panties. He hadn’t known plain and white could be so arousing.
He knew what he was doing, he reminded himself. He was taking what he wanted.
He reached up to open the closet.
“Mom! Harry’s hogging the toothpaste!”
“There’s plenty for everybody. I’ll be there in one minute.”
The brats, he remembered, and quietly lowered his trembling hand. He’d forgotten them. He had to be patient a little longer. He had to wait until they were in bed.
Had to wait. Had to watch.
Clare stripped off her panties, tossed them in the hamper before pulling on cotton pants. She unhooked her bra, tossed that in as well, pulled on a faded T-shirt.
Hearing sounds that didn’t strike as teeth-brushing, she grabbed her hairbrush on the fly.
Harry and Liam stopped their sword fight with their toothbrushes, Murphy stopped making bomb sounds as he dropped a dog ball in the sink he’d filled nearly to the rim.
Mad with excitement, dogs leaped at boy and dripping ball.
“We brushed.” Murphy sent her a cherub’s grin. “I’m going to wash the ball ’cause it got slobbered.”
“Let the water out, Murphy.” She bent down to Liam. “Open up.”
She sniffed when he did, caught the distinctive scent of their bubble-gum-flavored toothpaste. “You pass. Into bed. Harry.”
He rolled his eyes at her, but opened up for the sniff test. “And you’re clear. Bed.”
Grabbing a towel, she homed in on Murphy.
“The ball’s clean now.”
“I bet. And your pj’s are wet.” She set her brush aside to tug off the damp top, then dried his hands, his arms, his sweet little chest. “Open up.”
“I brushed real good.” He opened, and huffed out a big breath to prove it.
“Very nice. Go get another pajama top.”
“I have to change the bottoms, too, or they won’t match.”
“Murphy—” She bit back the impatience. Two minutes, and they’d be tucked in. “Of course you do. Make it fast.”