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goodness sake.
    So why was she having sudden fantasies of the two of them setting new records together in bedroom gymnastics?
    Someone was being roasted, all right, but it wasn’t him.
    Resisting the urge to fan herself, Molly shoved the fantasies out of her head when Tyler came to a halt before her and the boys. Her hands flattened against the twins’ backs, holding them close to her sides. Mama lioness protecting her cubs.
    Stevie pulled out of the crunch and turned around, planting himself between her and the intruder in his own gesture of protection. He understood their situation better than Jeremy and Josh did, and it worried him. Having grown up helping her with his little brothers and a crippled father, he understood more than any child his age should – and that worried Molly.
    She let go of the twins, briefly, to draw him back against her, but he stepped out of her reach and confronted Tyler. A genuine little David glaring up at Goliath.
    “Are you our uncle?” He made it sound like an accusation.
    Tyler winced and glanced down, blinking like he’d forgotten for a moment the kids were there. Stupid man. He was the one who’d sent for them. He cleared his throat and planted a warm smile on his face. A little too warm? He was trying too hard. Then he held out his hand in a put-it-there-pardner gesture.
    “Yes, I am. And you must be Stevie. I’m very glad you and your brothers are here, son.”
    “We’re not. And I’m not your son.” Ignoring the offered hand, Stevie turned his back on him.
    Tyler’s smile froze, and Molly fought a sudden battle to not feel sorry for him. She lost. Stupid her.
    “We don’t like it here!” the twins chimed in unison. “We wanna go home!”
    “You’re a dirty bird,” the Myna said.
    Unfortunately, he said it in Molly’s voice since that was what she told him every time she cleaned his cage. And Tyler was looking at neither Molly nor the bird when the comment came. So he probably thought…
    Wondering if her face now matched her red skirt, Molly opened her mouth to explain.
    “Ms. Leigh,” Tyler snapped her off.
    A midnight blue stare hit her like a slap, sending sympathy scurrying for cover and making her wish she could scurry after it.
    “I’d like to speak to you privately,” he said, not pleasantly. “Now.”
    Never mind the explanation. Admiral Byrd had been right on target.
    So was Fang.
    Molly’s eyes widened. The tomcat was sniffing the lord of the manor’s leg, and she knew what that meant. “Um, Mr. James—”
    Too late.
    Tyler sputtered and jumped back as Fang sprayed him.
    “I guess that tells us what he thinks of you,” offered a new voice. It came from a tall, lanky fellow with tawny hair and a wicked grin, which widened as he strolled forward to stand beside Fang’s newly marked territory.
    The “territory” glared at the newcomer. “So why should his opinion be different from anyone else’s?”
    “Yeah, I’ve noticed. You’re going over with your usual lead-balloon charm, my man.” He turned his grin to Molly. “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Leigh. I’m Barry Baker. We’ve, ah, spoken on the phone several times.”
    “Yes, I remember. I’m prepared to forgive you for that, too.” The phone calls had all been strikeouts, but Barry had fielded them as nicely as he could. Molly returned his grin.
    Tyler’s glare darkened. He shot a warning glance at Barry, then leveled his deep blue high-beams on her. A fresh jolt of electricity crackled through her as their gazes locked. She saw anger in his eyes, and…something else. Hurt?
    Hunger.
    Oh, Goddess…
    He held out his hand to her. A very nice hand, Molly noticed. Long fingered and sensitive, but strong. Probably very talented. What would it feel like on…
    She swallowed, hard, and booted the thought from her mind.
    “Ms. Leigh?” Tyler didn’t tap his foot with impatience, but he might as well have. He looked as though he wanted to tap her – with a club maybe. “Our