“Do you have another pair to change into?”
“Well…yeah.”
“Does Lia mind if you get these wet?”
Smiling, she shook her head. She now held baby Julia in her lap. Both the little ones were watching wide-eyed as Conall dashed recklessly through the spray.
Shaking his head like a wet dog on the other side, he grinned at Brendan. “Dare you.”
The solemn boy nodded, gulped as if for courage, then ran through the water. He let out a squawk as cold water fountained over him. Laughing, Conall called, “Now you, Walker.”
“Is it cold?”
“Yes!” his brother exclaimed, skinny arms wrapping around himself.
“Do I hafta?”
“You hafta,” Mr. Special Agent MacLachlan told him, that utterly irresistible grin turning his face into one guaranteed to make any woman’s knees weak.
“Okay.” The boy squeezed his eyes shut. His hands knotted into fists at his side. Then he ran right through the sprinkler, screaming all the way.
On the other side, Conall hoisted him triumphantly into the air. “Now wasn’t that fun?”
“Yes!” For the first time since Lia had had him, Walker smiled. Really smiled. “It was fun, wasn’t it, Bren?”
Conall grabbed the older boy’s nape with rough affection, said, “Let’s do it again,” and all three of them bolted through the water laughing.
Laughing. Two boys who had hardly talked in the weeks they’d watched their mother die and in the days they’d mourned her. And now this amazing man had reminded them that there were still reasons to laugh.
Oh, blast it. She was crying now, and she never cried.
She sniffed, swiped away the moisture, and found all three of them arrayed in front of her, soggy jeans clinging to their legs, the laughter still on their faces.
“You, too,” Brendan said.
“Yeah!” Walker grinned at her. “I bet even Julia would like it.”
Julia liked everything. She was babbling and bouncing.
Conall scooped up Arturo then grimaced. “He’s already wet. What’s a little wetter?”
“I can’t take off my T-shirt,” Lia protested weakly.
Conall’s smile became wicked. “Ever hear of a wet T-shirt contest?”
“I’d lose.”
His gaze lowered to her breasts and there was a glint in his eyes. “Oh, I don’t know about that,” he murmured.
She glowered at him, but let the boys pull her to her feet, Julia on her hip. She was kicking off her flip-flops when Conall swung Arturo onto his shoulders, made sure he was gripping his hair, then raced through the water. Arturo chortled the entire way. The boys were right behind them. Resigned, Lia followed. The minute she discovered how really, really cold the water was, she squealed and sped up.
“Like a girl,” Conall told her when she emerged from the spray.
“It’s cold,” she said indignantly.
Conall’s gray eyes strayed to her breasts again. Very quietly, for her ears only, he told her, “You win.”
She looked down. Oh, heavens! She’d gotten soaked. Worse yet, her bra was not doing its job. Her nipples were poking out. She wanted to believe it was because of the cold water, but couldn’t be entirely sure she wasn’t reacting to that very sexual appraisal.
From a man who was a threat to her. She couldn’t forget that. More of a threat than ever, now that he’d hinted he knew.
Even so… The boys were laughing and cavorting, darting in and out of the sprinkler, letting Conall roughhouse with them. They were having fun, when she hadn’t been sure they ever would again. Arturo had Conall’s sopping wet, too-long hair gripped tightly in two fists, and he was laughing in belly-shaking delight. Julia strained toward the sprinkler, her babbling gaining in volume.
“Oh, all right,” Lia muttered, and raced through again. This time, it almost felt good. She’d forgotten the pleasure of wet grass slick beneath her toes.
It didn’t last long; it couldn’t, when the day wasn’t really hot at all. Pretty soon the boys were shivering and Lia announced that they were all going inside to dry off and change clothes.
Conall turned off the water and moved quickly to grab his T-shirt and the weapon it concealed before the boys could reach the porch steps. They groaned loudly as they climbed, trying to pluck the wet jeans from their legs.