The Next Always - By Nora Roberts Page 0,50

has a puppy named Spike. We could get a puppy and name him Spike.”

“Timing counts, kid, and this isn’t a good time to ask for a puppy. Please don’t ask me why. Just let me get myself together, Murphy. Let’s go upstairs. You and the Power Rangers can help me make the beds.”

“Power Rangers fight bad guys.”

“Well, they have to sleep sometime, don’t they?” She hefted the laundry basket. Since she hadn’t taken any out of the linen closet, she’d save a step and put the freshly washed ones back on.

No folding. Woo-hoo, she thought as Murphy chattered his way into the living room. Where she found a miracle. Both boys had passed out.

“Shh. Quiet now. They’re sleeping, so let’s be sneaky.”

Nobody’d gotten much sleep the last two nights—which didn’t seem to bother Murphy the Mouth—though he did chatter in a whisper as they went upstairs.

She’d barely reached the top when someone banged the door knocker.

“Go get your Power Rangers,” she told Murphy, and raced down. She’d kill anyone who woke her two sleeping kids. Strangle them with her bare hands.

She yanked open the door, and language she’d trained herself not to use because of the children ripped through her head. “Sam.”

“Hello, gorgeous! I was in the area, thought I’d stop by, and sweep you off for brunch. I’m meeting my parents at the club. We’ll make a party of it.”

“This is a bad time. My two oldest boys have been sick all weekend, and they’re sleeping.”

“Sounds like you need a break. Call your sitter.” He added that broad smile and wink. “I’ll take you away from all this.”

“All this is my life, and I’m not leaving my children when they’re not well.”

“Mom!”

“Murphy, quiet. You’ll wake your brothers.” She sensed Sam moving forward behind her, shifted to block.

“But I got my Power Rangers, and you said—”

“I’ll be right up. I’m sorry, Sam, but I’m very busy. I have to go.”

“I’ll have my mother call you about that au pair.”

Lack of sleep, lack of patience, lack of goddamn Chicken and Stars just snapped it. “I’m not getting a damn au pair, for God’s sake. I’m not interested in brunches at the stupid country club. I’m interested in getting the beds made. Now, I have a lot to do, so you’ll have to excuse me.”

Rude wasn’t her default, but she shut the door in his face.

Outside it, Sam balled his hands into fists. He’d had enough, just about enough of her games. Smiling and flirting with him one minute, brushing him off the next. Just about enough of her using those three brats to hold him off.

More than enough, he thought as he strode to his car, especially since he’d seen Beckett Montgomery walk out of her house the night before—at nearly eleven.

She wanted to make him jealous, he decided. Well, he’d about finished being Mr. Nice Guy. It was high time Clare Brewster learned who was in charge.

He pulled his car out of her drive and to the curb. As he had the evening before, he sat, watched the house, and stewed.

INSIDE, CLARE BURNED off the temper Sam had ignited by wiping down the kids’ room with disinfectant. She left the windows open to freshen the air, and felt the heat cooling in her brain and belly as she worked.

What was wrong with that man? she wondered. Nobody could be that dense, that egotistical and clueless all at the same time. And add in annoying.

It had gotten to the point where she could barely manage to be polite to him, and still he kept coming back. Maybe she’d cured him this time.

Lord, she’d literally shut the door in his face. That was a first, she decided. Surely no one could mistake that for anything but “leave me the hell alone.”

She was on her hands and knees, scrubbing down the bathroom, when Murphy tapped her shoulder.

“Are you still apart?”

“Apart from what?”

“You said you had to get yourself together. Are you still apart?”

Charmed, she sat back on her heels, hugged him hard. Au pair, her ass. “Just a little bit. Nearly there.”

“How come you didn’t make the beds?”

“Because I wanted to clean first. I’m battling germs. I’m killing them dead. Can’t you hear them screaming?”

His eyes rounded. “I want to kill germs!”

She dumped another rag in the bucket, squeezed it out. “There’s some over there, there in that corner! Get them, Murph.”

“I don’t see them.”

“They have the cloak of invisibility, don’t be fooled. Scrub ’em out!”

Not bad, she decided as he attacked the

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