Shiver

in three weeks). Crouching, rummaging through the bags, she came up with the promised package of toys. Like her, Tyler was something of a car buff, and when she stood up with the pack and said, “There’s a Mustang Cobra in here, and a Dodge Charger, too,” he was off the couch and running over to take it from her. For a moment he just stood there looking raptly at the cars in their little plastic rectangles.
    Then he glanced up at her. “Thanks, Mom.”
    “You’re welcome.” She smiled at him. It didn’t take much to make him happy; he was such a good, sweet-natured kid. Truth was, he deserved better than her, but she was what he’d gotten.“Why don’t you take them up to your room”—it felt odd to refer to the room he slept in here the same way she did to his bedroom at home, but she did it—“and get them out?”
    “Okay.” He looked around at Marco. “You want to come and see?”
    “Thanks, but I think I need to talk to your mom for a little bit.” No fool, Marco was clearly able to read the signals she was sending. As in, you’re toast.
    “’Kay.” Holding the package of cars so that he could study them through the plastic wrap as he walked, Tyler headed for the stairs.
    Fixing Marco with a gimlet gaze, Sam waited until her son was out of sight. For his part, Marco hit the remote, which turned off the TV, then set the remote down on the coffee table beside the controllers. As if he were a guilty kid trying to hide the evidence of his wrongdoing, Sam thought.
    “That game is totally unsuitable for a four-year-old. What were you thinking ?” She said it as soon as she was sure Tyler could no longer overhear.
    Marco had relaxed back against the couch cushions and turned sideways a little so that he could look at her without craning his neck. “Come on, Sam. It’s Halo Reach. One of the best video games from one of the best video game series ever. A classic. I play it with my nephews all the time.”
    “How old are they?”
    He had the grace to look a little abashed. “Eleven. Twelve. Fourteen.”
    Sam filed away the fact that he had eleven-, twelve-, andfourteen-year-old nephews for future reference. “That’s still too young for a game like that, if you want my opinion, but it’s a lot better than four.”
    “My sisters don’t have a problem with their boys playing it. All their friends play it, too. And Tyler likes it.”
    Sisters? He had sisters? Something else to ponder later. Not that she meant to spend any time thinking about him. Anyway, she had more important fish to fry.
    “Of course he likes it. He loves guns, and pretending to shoot things, and playing army, and all that stuff. That doesn’t mean it’s good for him.” Sam’s mouth thinned with exasperation. “He’d love having candy for breakfast, too, if I’d let him.”
    “He was pretty good at it, for such a little kid.”
    “I don’t care! I don’t want him playing a violent video game.”
    Marco held up both hands in mock surrender. “Okay, my bad. I’ll disconnect the game console and put it back in the cabinet where I found it.”
    “Good.” She gave him another stern look and bent to pick up her bags.
    “Sam.”
    Straightening with bags in hand, she glanced at him in answer.
    “He is a boy, you know. Boys like guns, and shooting things, and violence. It’s normal.” At the look she gave him, he added hastily, “Just saying.”
    “Do you have any children?”
    “No.” Something that looked suspiciously like a twinkle appeared in his eyes. She was still looking closely at it, trying todecide what it meant, when he added, “No wife, either, if that’s where you’re going with this.”
    What? “You know that’s not where I was going,” she said crossly. “Where I was going is, if you don’t have children, you don’t know anything about them, so I’ll thank you to let me raise mine the best way I can.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” He was openly grinning at her now.
    Sam turned her back on him and headed for the stairs. Maybe it was her imagination—she didn’t think so—but she could almost feel his eyes on her butt. The thought did not please her, but it did make her step quicken. Along with her pulse.
    Which also did not please her.
    “Sam.” She heard him trying to get up, heard the thump of a dropped crutch, heard a curse. “Wait a minute. Ow!”
    That ow did it. She couldn’t help herself. She glanced back at him. He was balancing beside the couch, one crutch beneath his arm,