Danger at Her Door. Beth CornelisonЧитать онлайн книгу.
Her crutch. When Ginny’s assessment rang in her ears, a hollow sensation tugged at her chest. Maybe Sam was a crutch. But weren’t crutches made to help patients healing from an injury?
She was healing, too. Slowly. She’d just had a minor setback this week because of the renewed activity around the Gentleman Rapist case. The revived memories.
And the unsettling reminder, in the form of a handsome new neighbor with sexy hazel eyes, of all she was missing while she licked her wounds.
She had to rejoin the dating world and let a man into her life someday if she was going to have the family and future she wanted. Jack Calhoun brought home in vivid color the rut she’d allowed herself to get into in the name of protecting herself. And now, if he had his way, he would send another piece of her protective wall crashing down.
Because losing Sam, even for just a little while, would mean losing her sense of security.
Leaning over the railing of the hospital bed, Jack gently wrapped his hand around his daughter’s and rested his forehead on his arm. Guilt gnawed at him. He blamed himself for Caitlyn’s injury, for the sorry state of his life. For the way he’d lashed out at Megan.
When Caitlyn mumbled something, he opened his eyes to check on her, but she slept on. She’d drifted in and out of sleep for the past half hour, since the E.R. doctor had admitted her to a private room overnight for observation. Even though the doctor had assured him that Caitlyn would make a full recovery and that Jack had time to grab a bite of dinner before her sedative wore off, Jack had stayed put. He refused to leave Caitlyn and risk having her wake up in her hospital room alone.
His daughter seemed so tiny, so frail lying in that big hospital bed. When he thought about how much worse Caitlyn’s injuries could have been, that he could have lost her, icy fingers closed around his heart. If he hadn’t been so absorbed in the article he’d been writing about the history of the Gentleman Rapist case, maybe he’d have realized Caitlyn had snuck outside again.
Of course, the real culprit in all of this was that monster…that canine terror. Megan’s dog.
Yet he’d seen the alarm and sorrow in Megan’s eyes when she arrived on the scene and as they loaded Caity in the ambulance. An overwhelming protective urge had swamped him, and he’d wanted to draw Megan into his arms and comfort her. Despite the distraction of the devil dog and his deep concern for Caitlyn, he’d still had the gut-level yearning to soothe the troubled look in his neighbor’s eyes. Those big, expressive green eyes.
Jack sighed. He’d been far too harsh with her, allowing his fear for Caity to morph into an ugly, undeserved lambasting of his neighbor. Megan’s anguish tangled inside him even now. He longed to hold her close, calm her trembling, whisper his apologies against her smooth skin. How would she feel, nestled in his arms?
Squeezing his eyes shut, Jack shook his head to dispel the image. What in the world was he doing daydreaming about a beautiful woman when Caitlyn lay injured in a hospital bed?
Caitlyn whimpered, and her head rolled to one side on her flat, hospital pillow.
“Caitlyn, honey? Daddy’s here. Can you hear me, baby?”
“I’m not a baby,” Caitlyn grumbled in a sleepy voice. “My arm hurts.” Her bottom lip poked out in a familiar pout.
“I know, munchkin. I’m sorry.”
Stroking her hand with his thumb, he thought how small and fragile her little hand looked, and his chest constricted. She was so tiny, so dependent on him. He had no room to mess up. He had to do a better job taking care of Caitlyn because she had no one else.
Jack picked up the cup beside the bed. “You want a sip of water?”
She shook her head, her eyes heavy-lidded. “Daddy, do they give awards to doggies if they’re heroes?”
Knitting his brow, he fumbled to answer her out-of-left-field question. He’d become accustomed to her fastball questions catching him off guard, and he’d learned to anticipate, with some success, where the questions might lead.
“I suppose if a doggie did something very brave, they might give him some kind of award.”
Caitlyn nodded and closed her eyes for a moment.
“I think you should sleep now. The doctor wants you to stay in bed until you feel strong again.” Jack brushed a kiss on her forehead.
Caitlyn’s eyes fluttered open again. “I want to watch Cinderella.”
“It’s at home, munchkin. We’ll see it later.”
“Daddy?”
Jack yawned, his own fatigue catching up with him. “Yeah, munchkin?”
“Can we give Sam an award?”
Jack’s chest clenched. “Sam?”
“Miss Megan’s doggie.”
Jack heard a gasp. Raising his head, he found Megan standing by the door, a small teddy bear in one hand and her other hand pressed to her mouth in surprise. Her pale face showed her strain and worry, and those emerald eyes flashed with apprehension. “Megan, what are you—?”
“I was worried about Caitlyn. I needed to know she was all right.” Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and his eyes locked on the moistness left on her full, bowed mouth. Desire kicked him in the gut.
“She has a broken arm and a load of stitches.” He gritted his teeth and felt his nostrils flare as he huffed his frustration with the whole situation. “She’ll probably have scars for the rest of her life.”
“Oh, Jack.” Megan pressed a hand to her mouth, and tears welled in her eyes.
Jack turned away, a fresh dose of self-censure for his abrasiveness twisting in his stomach.
“I’m so sorry this happened. Sam’s usually protective and gentle with children. I just can’t understand what…why…” Megan tugged nervously at the pearl earring in her lobe. Her brows knitted with concern. “Can I do anything…anything at all for you or Caitlyn? I know I can’t make this up to either of you, but—”
“Megan?”
Jack’s and Megan’s gazes both flew to the bed where Caitlyn stirred.
Caitlyn rolled her head to the side and peered over at Megan. “Sam…” She hiccuped a sob then swiped at her eyes with her good hand. “Sam’s my h-hero.”
Jack blinked. Held his breath. Wrinkled his brow. “Why’s that, Caity?”
Megan hesitated only a moment before stepping to the other side of the bed. She placed a hand on Caitlyn’s knee and tucked the stuffed bear by Caitlyn’s shoulder. “What happened with Sam, honey?”
A fat tear spilled from Caitlyn’s eyelashes, and she turned her wide dark eyes toward Jack. “I wanted to pat the big doggie. I thought he’d be nice like Sam. But he wasn’t.”
Jack could feel his heartbeat slow. Another dog?
“What big doggie, munchkin? Sam?”
“Not Sam. The other one. The white one. H-he bit me and growled and—” Caitlyn’s voice broke, and she sniffed as she cried. “Sam saved me. He chased the other dog away.”
Jack raised his gaze to meet Megan’s. “A white dog? You know the neighbors better than I do. Can you think of a white dog in the area?”
Megan drew her brows together as she frowned. “No. It must’ve been a stray.”
“Which means that dog could be anywhere now.” He sighed his frustration. “Great.”
Despite her clear concern over the idea of a mean stray in the neighborhood, the tension surrounding Megan visibly eased. Her dog had been exonerated.
The hope, relief and dawning of understanding