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Henley Haven was an enormous responsibility that required long hours of hard work, patience and sacrifice. Many people thought she was crazy for taking on such a burden, and there were times when she questioned her own sanity. Yet, as always at night during this quiet time, she knew a sense of peace and fulfillment that erased all doubt and made it all worthwhile.
Maude Ann closed the door on the last pair of sleeping children and made her way down the hall to her own quarters.
There she filled the tub and treated herself to a long hot soak. Afterward, she showered and shampooed her hair, then crawled into bed, sighing with pleasure. Though only a little after ten, it had been a busy day and she was exhausted.
The clean smell of soap and bath talc clung to her skin and mingled with the fresh, outdoorsy scent of cool cotton sheets that had been dried in the sunshine. Smiling, she closed her eyes and snuggled her face into the down-filled pillow and waited for sleep to claim her.
An hour later she was still waiting. Finally, thoroughly irritated, she threw back the covers donned her robe and stomped, barefoot, out of the room. She loped down the stairs, her clean hair dancing around her shoulders with each impatient step, and her long batiste gown and robe fluttering out behind her.
In the kitchen she started to flip on the overhead light, but thought better of it after a glance at the closed door of Matt’s room. She had forgotten about him.
A line of light shone from under the door, and she heard the faint sound of the shower running. She wasn’t going to wake him, at least. However, neither was she anxious to have any contact with him. Forcing herself to move with more caution, she crossed the room and turned on the dim light above the kitchen stove.
A few minutes later she had just removed a mug of warm milk from the microwave when she heard a thud from Matt’s room, followed immediately by a groan.
Acting on instinct, without stopping to think of what Matt’s reaction might be, she put the mug down, dashed to the door of his room and burst inside.
“Detective Dolan? Are you all right?” she called, darting a quick look around.
The bedspread was turned down, but the bed was empty. The lamp on the nightstand gave off a pale glow that barely illuminated the room, but the door to the en suite bathroom stood ajar, and a narrow rectangle of bright light spilled out. Maude Ann headed in that direction. Halfway there another groan sounded.
“Detective, are you—” She gasped and jerked to a halt in the bathroom doorway.
Matt lay sprawled facedown on the shower floor, struggling to climb to his hands and knees. Overhead the steaming spray beat down on him full force. Every time he tried to gain purchase on the slick tile, he slipped and fell flat again, with painful results.
The shower stall had been built to accommodate John Werner’s massive proportions, making it bigger than many small bathrooms. Prone in the middle of the floor, Matt could not reach the sides or anything else on which to brace himself.
Recovering her senses, Maude Ann rushed forward and snatched open the shower door. “For heaven’s sake, wait! Don’t try to get up by yourself!”
“Hey! What’re you…doing in here?” Matt groaned. “Get the hell out. I’m naked.”
“Most people are when they shower.”
“Funny. Now, will you leave? I can…manage on my own.”
“Oh, yes, I can see that,” she replied, giving him a dry look. “Really, Detective, you’re being foolish. I am a doctor, after all. I have seen naked men before.”
“You’re a head doctor. And you haven’t seen me.”
“Oh, please.” She made an exasperated sound and rolled her eyes. She reached in and turned off the shower, wetting the front of her gown and robe in the process, and stepped inside. Immediately she skidded and almost fell. “Whoops! Good grief, this thing is slick as goose grease on glass. Why didn’t you tell me? I’m surprised you haven’t already broken your neck.”
“It wasn’t important. Now will you…get out of here?” he gasped.
“No. I’m not going anywhere until we get you on your feet and out of this skating rink, so you’re just going to have to deal with it.”
Holding on to the built-in towel rack, she leaned down and hooked her other hand under his arm. “C’mon, now, just hang on and let me do the lifting. Will you stop pulling away! You’re just making it more difficult.”
“Dammit, at least get me a towel before you haul me up.”
“Oh, honestly!” Releasing his arm, Maude Ann eased out of the shower and snatched a wine-colored towel off the rack, then quickly climbed back inside and dropped the cloth over his bare backside. “There, that should protect your modesty. Now can I have a little cooperation here?”
Groaning, Matt rolled first to one side, then the other and after several tries finally managed to knot the towel around his lean middle.
“Ready now?” She hooked her hand under his arm again and tugged with all her might, hauling him to his knees, but not without causing him to wince and suck in his breath.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m…okay. Just give me a minute.” He closed his eyes and breathed hard for several seconds, then he grasped her arm. “Okay, I’m ready. Let’s go.”
As Maude Ann pulled, Matt braced his other hand on her hip and strained to lever himself up. The agony in his face was awful to see, and her heart squeezed in sympathy.
“Easy, easy. Don’t put any weight on that wounded leg.”
Matt shot her a blistering look. “You just hold on to that rack and let me worry about my leg. Jeez, are you always this bossy?”
“Sorry.” She gave him an abashed grin. “Comes from dealing with children all day, I guess.”
“Well, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not ten years old.”
Oh, she’d noticed, all right. It was difficult not to, under the circumstances. Still fresh in her mind’s eye was the sight of those tight buns of his.
Despite his recent weight loss, Matt’s broad shoulders and arms were corded with muscle. So was his impressive chest and flat abdomen and long, powerful legs. Water-beaded tanned, glistening skin and more droplets clung to the jagged piece of silver he wore on a chain around his neck and the mat of dark curls that covered his chest. She could not help but notice how the silky hair arrowed downward to swirl around his navel, then narrow into a thin line that disappeared beneath the maroon terry cloth slung low around his hips.
She was seeing much more of Matt Dolan than she had ever expected to see, and he was most definitely not a boy but an adult male. A very attractive, well-built, virile adult male.
It wasn’t easy, but after a lot of struggle and slipping and sliding, she finally managed to pull him to his feet. “Here, just hang on to me,” she instructed. Looping his arm over her shoulder and wrapping her free arm around his waist, she carefully stepped out of the shower with him.
The instant his feet touched the bathmat, he released her and grabbed the edge of the basin for support. Stiff-armed, he braced himself against the sink and hung his head, clenching his jaw. Beneath the tanned skin, his face was pale, and his muscles quivered with fatigue.
Without a word, Maude Ann grabbed another towel and began to pat his torso dry, working so briskly she was almost finished before he could protest.
“Hey! Stop that! Look, I can manage from here okay.”
“Nonsense. You’re so exhausted you can barely stand. You need to lie down before you fall down. Again.” Squatting beside him, she ran the towel down one of his legs and up the other before he could dodge her hands, then she tossed the towel onto the rack and grasped him around the waist again.
“Come along, let’s get you to bed.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his jaw set, but this time he didn’t argue. Beneath her encircling arm, she felt his muscles tremble, and she knew by the way he leaned against her that his strength had reached low ebb. She also knew that a man like Matt Dolan would hate for anyone, especially a woman, to see him in such a weakened state.
His cane was propped against the wall, and she grabbed it and hooked it over her arm as they passed by.
Their progress across the large bedroom was slow and painful, but finally they made it.
“There, you go,” she said brightly, lowering him onto the side of the bed.
While Maude Ann lifted his feet onto the mattress, Matt gave a sigh, closed his eyes and collapsed on his back with one arm crooked over his head and the other flung wide.
Straightening, Maude Ann stood beside the bed, debating what to do next. Lines of pain and fatigue etched Matt’s face, and his skin had a grayish cast. His black hair was tousled and wet, and a lock hung down over his forehead. Her fingers itched to smooth it back off his face, but she resisted the urge.
Her gaze slid downward over the arm flung over his head, tracing the tender underside to its juncture with his body. For no reason, her attention was caught by the tuft of damp, dark hair under his arm. As she stared at it, she felt her stomach tighten.
Helpless to stop herself, she ran her gaze over his shoulders and throat, the sculpted beauty of his collarbone. A glint caught her eye, and she zeroed in on the jagged piece of silver nestled in the thatch of dark hair on his chest. She wondered what it was. It must be important, because he wore it all the time, even while bathing.
The mystery diverted her only seconds before her gaze was again drawn downward, trailing over his ribs, which moved rhythmically up and down with each heavy breath he drew.
Maude Ann’s mouth went dry. Lord, he was a magnificent male specimen. She knew she should look away, but she could not. Mesmerized, she continued her study, following that intriguing line of dark hair down over his belly and lower.
Then her gaze encountered the angry, puckered wound on his right leg. Instantly the sensual spell was broken.
Before she could stop herself she sucked in a sharp breath. Quickly she glanced at Matt’s face to make sure he hadn’t heard and found he was watching her, his eyes steady and glittering beneath half-closed lids.
Hot color rose in her neck and face, but for an interminable moment neither moved nor spoke. They simply stared at each other, their gazes locked.
The air in the room seemed thick, almost suffocating, magnifying every sound. Maude Ann could hear the wind-up clock on the bedside table ticking, the whir of the cicadas outside the window, the thrumming of her heartbeat in her ears. She wondered if Matt could hear it, too.
“See something you like, Dr. Edwards?”
Maude Ann swallowed around the tightness in her throat. “I was just looking at your wounds. They need tending. I’ll, uh…I’ll rebandage them for you, if you like.”
“What are you going to do? Kiss them and make them all better, like you do Debbie’s ouchies?”
“Hardly.” She forced a chuckle, fighting to regain control of the situation and her wayward senses. “You’re not four years old.”
She turned to go in search of his medical supplies, but his hand shot out and clamped around her wrist like a vice, jerking her to a halt. His blue eyes glittered dangerously, and when he spoke his voice dropped, becoming rough and steely.
“That’s right. I’m not one of your wounded chicks that you can cluck over and mother. I’m a man, with a man’s appetites.”
His gaze dropped to her chest, and his eyes darkened. Maude Ann was about to protest, but instead, a downward glance made her gasp and clamp her free arm over her breasts. The front of her gown and robe were still sopping wet, and the thin batiste clung to her body like a second skin. The air-conditioned air had cooled the wet cloth, causing her nipples to pucker and harden. They thrust against the wet gown, clearly visible through the semitransparent material.
“Right now I’m not in any shape to do anything about those appetites, but I will be soon. Remember that the next time you come waltzing in here uninvited. You may get more than you bargained for.”
Blushing from her hairline to her toes, Maude Ann stammered, “I got wet helping you. I didn’t realize…I certainly didn’t mean to flaunt myself. Anyway, I was only trying to help.”
“Oh? Is that what you were doing just now? Helping me?”
“Well, I—”
“Just keep in mind that the next time you’re tempted to look at me with that hungry gleam in your eye, you better be prepared for the consequences.”
Denial never even occurred to Maude Ann. Though it hadn’t been intentional, she had been admiring his body, and she’d been caught red-handed. She nodded. “Fair enough.”
She started to move away, but Matt’s grip on her arm tightened. She looked at him and arched one eyebrow.
Matt rubbed his thumb over the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist, and his eyes grew slumbrous. “Unless, of course, you’d like me to satisfy that hunger of yours.”
Her sense of humor and down-to-earth common sense, neither of which was ever far from the surface, came bubbling up. That she would find herself in such a situation with Matt Dolan, of all people, struck her as absurdly funny. He was the most intimidating, overwhelmingly masculine man she’d ever encountered. When she had worked for the HPD, even before she had met and married Tom Henley, Matt had paid her no more mind than a piece of office equipment.
That had suited her just fine. From their first meeting she’d had the good sense to know that someone like her, a simple homebody at heart, had no business getting involved with an intense, complicated man like Matt.
Shaking her head, Maude Ann gave a throaty chuckle and pulled her arm from his grasp. Matt’s eyes narrowed, his expression going from sensual to surprised, then annoyed. Clearly, he had not expected that reaction.
“Tempting as it is, I think I’ll pass on that offer, Detective. I may be a frustrated widow, but I know when I’m in over my head. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go get some bandages for those wounds.”
“Don’t bother. I can manage.”
“Fine. Then I’ll say good-night.” Only moments ago she would have argued, but now a hasty withdrawal seemed the wisest course.
The instant Maude Ann pulled the door shut behind her, she leaned back against the kitchen wall and fanned her face with her hand. “Whew! That is one potent man,” she whispered.
The encounter with Maude Ann served as a wake-up call for Matt.
What his doctor’s repeated lectures and weeks of his friends’ pleas and cajoling had failed to do, the humiliating episode in the shower accomplished in mere minutes, firing in him an iron-willed determination to regain his strength—and with it, the life he’d had before he’d been shot.
He had allowed the doctor’s pessimism to infect him, to rob him of a sense of purpose. He had wanted a guarantee that he would recover. When he didn’t get one, he refused to try. It was easier to accept defeat from the start than to fight and struggle for weeks, maybe months, and fail, anyway.
He had been so mired in bitterness and self-pity he couldn’t see what a pathetic loser he’d allowed himself to become—not until he’d found himself sprawled helpless as a newborn baby on the shower floor, completely dependent on a woman to help him out.
It had stung to have Maude Ann see him so weak and helpless. So had that husky laugh of hers and her blunt honesty. The easy way she had twice dismissed the flare of desire between them had been downright insulting. Labeling her feelings nothing more than frustration had made it painfully clear that it wasn’t him she wanted; her reaction would have been the same with any man. Abstinence, not attraction, had prompted that smoldering inspection she had given him.
Intellectually Matt knew he shouldn’t let the incident bother him. Men, after all, had been guilty of the same impersonal lust for eons. The problem was, coming from a warm and sensual woman like Maude Ann, it had seemed doubly insulting to be relegated to nothing more than a sex object.
What the devil. She wasn’t his type, anyway, and he sure as hell wasn’t interested in getting involved with the woman.
Still…her attitude had rankled.
The way Matt figured it, the sooner he got back in shape and got out of there, away from the maddening woman and her ragtag bunch of kids, the better.
The morning after the shower incident, Matt rose early and did his exercises, this time with vigor, pushing himself almost beyond endurance.
Before going into the kitchen for breakfast, he braced himself for awkwardness, but it was a wasted effort; Maude Ann wasn’t there.
Loath to ask where she was, Matt pretended not to notice her empty chair, but the kids had no such inhibitions.
“Where’s Miz Maudie?” Tyrone demanded the instant he took his seat.
“Yeth, where ith she?” Debbie echoed.
“She’s gone into Cleveland to do some shopping,” Jane replied. “She’ll be back in an hour or so. Now you kids eat your breakfasts. Soon as we clean up the kitchen we’re going to do some chores.”
That brought groans all around the table, especially from Tyrone. Fighting the urge to laugh, Matt ducked his head and ate his waffles in silence.
After breakfast he went for a walk, taking the path through the woods that he’d seen Maude Ann and the kids use. Every step was agony. He limped along, sweating and breathless from the exertion and pain, putting most of his weight on his cane and forcing one foot in front of the other.
Jane was in the kitchen when he staggered in at last to get a drink. She looked up from icing a cake and raised an eyebrow when she saw his flushed, sweaty face.
“Gracious me, you look like forty miles of bad road. What on earth have you been doing, Detective?”
His mouth tightened. He crossed to the sink, the soft thud of his cane almost silent on the brick floor. He had made no attempt to cultivate a friendship with the woman or anyone else in the house, but Jane Beasley didn’t let that stop her.
