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Whit led her past the debris of the front porch, then around to the side, where the swing sets were uprooted, the jungle gym twisted into a macabre new shape. Painted Halloween pumpkins had scattered and burst. He called out to the handful of people picking at the lumber on the porch, offering advice as he continued to lead Megan around to the back of the building. The gaggle of frantic parents listened without argument, desperate.
She couldn’t imagine a world without her daughter.
In her first trimester, she’d planned to give her baby up for adoption. She’d gotten the paperwork from a local adoption agency. Then she’d felt the flutter of life inside her and she’d torn up the paperwork. From that point on, she’d opted for taking life one day at a time. The moment when she’d seen her daughter’s newborn face with bright eyes staring trustingly up at her, she’d lost her heart totally.
Evie was four years old now, those first sprigs of red hair having grown into precious corkscrew curls. And Megan had a rewarding job that also paid the bills and supported her daughter. It hadn’t been easy by any stretch, but she’d managed. Until today.
Whit guided her to the back of the building, which was blessedly undamaged. The back door was intact. Secure. Safe. She’d been right to come with him. She would have dived straight into the porch rubble rather than thinking to check....
Megan yanked out of Whit’s grip and pounded on the door. Through the pane she could see the kids lined up on the floor with their teachers. No one seemed in a panic.
The day care supervisor pulled the door open.
“Sue Ellen,” Megan clasped her hand, looking around her to catch sight of her daughter. “Where’s Evie?”
“She’s okay.” The silver-haired supervisor wearing a smock covered in finger paints and dust patted Megan’s hand. The older woman seemed calm, in control, when she must be shaking in her sensible white sneakers. “She’s with a teacher’s assistant and three other students. They were on their way to the kitchen when the tornado sirens went off. So she’s at the other end of the building.”
Sue Ellen paused and Megan’s heart tripped over itself. “What are you not telling me?”
“There’s a beam from the roof blocking her from coming out. But she’s fine. The assistant is keeping the kids talking and calm.”
Megan pressed a hand to her chest. “Near the porch? The collapsed roof?”
Whit gripped her shoulder. “I’ve got it.”
Without another word, he raced down the corridor. Megan followed, dimly registering that he’d clasped her hand. And she didn’t pull away from the comfort. They finally stopped short at a blocked hall, the emergency lighting illuminating the passageway beyond the crisscross of broken beams and cracked plaster. Dust made the image hazy, almost surreal. The teacher’s assistant sat beside the row of students, Evie on the end, her bright red curls as unmistakable as the mismatched orange and purple outfit she’d insisted on wearing this morning because the colors reminded her Halloween was coming.
“Evie?” Megan shouted. “Evie, honey, it’s Mommy.”
“Mommy?” her daughter answered faintly, a warble in her voice. “I wanna go home.”
Whit angled past Megan and crouched down to assess the crisscross of boards, cracked drywall and ceiling tiles. ‘Stand back, kids, while I clear a path through.”
The teacher’s assistant guided them all a few feet away and wrapped her arms around them protectively as fresh dust showered down. With measured precision, Whit moved boards aside, his muscles bulging as he hefted aside plank after plank with an ease Megan envied until finally he’d cleared a pathway big enough for people to crawl through. Evie’s freckled face peeked from the cluster of kids, her nose scrunched and sweet cherub smile beaming. She appeared unharmed.
Relief made Megan’s legs weak. Whit’s palm slid along her waist for a steadying second before he reached into the two-foot opening, arms outstretched. “Evie, I’m a friend of your mommy’s here to help you. Can I lift you through here?”
Megan nodded, holding back the tears that were welling up fast. “Go to Mr. Whit, honey.”
Evie raised her arms and Whit hauled her up and free, cradling her to his chest in broad, gentle hands. Megan took in every inch of her daughter, seeing plenty of dirt but nothing more than a little tear of one sleeve of her Disney princess shirt, revealing a tiny scrape. Somehow she’d come through the whole ordeal safely.
Once they reached the bottom of the rubble, Whit passed Evie to her mother. “Here ya go, kiddo.”
Evie melted against Megan with one of those shuddering sighs of relief that relayed more than tears how frightened she had been. Evie wrapped her tiny arms around Megan’s neck and held on tightly like a spider monkey, and it was Megan’s turn to feel the shudder of relief so strong she nearly fell to her knees.
Thank you, thank you, thank you, God. Her baby was safe.
“You’re okay, sweetie?”
“I’m fine, Mommy. The t’naydo came and I was a very brave girl. I did just what Miss Vicky told me to do. I sat under the stairs and hugged my knees tight with one arm and I held my friend Caitlyn’s hand ’cause she was scared.”
“You did well, Evie, I’m so proud of you.” She kissed her daughter’s forehead, taking in the hint of her daughter’s favorite raspberry shampoo. “I love you so much.”
“Love you, too, Mommy.” She squeezed hard, holding on tightly as Whit helped the other students through.
Once the last child stepped free, Whit urged everyone to file away from the damaged part of the building. He led them down the hall to where Sue Ellen had gathered the children in the auditorium, playing music and passing out cookies and books to the students whose parents hadn’t arrived to pick them up. The school nurse made the rounds checking each child, dispensing Band-Aids when needed.
Whit’s hand went to the small of Megan’s back again with an ease she didn’t have the energy to wonder about right now.
“Megan, you should see the nurse about your scratches from the accident. The air bag has left some burns that could use antiseptic too—”
She shook her head. “I will later. For now she’s got her hands full with the children and they need her more.”
Evie squirmed in her arms. “Can I get a cookie? I’m reallllly hungry.”
“Of course, sweetie.” She gave her daughter another hug, not sure when she would ever be okay with letting her out of her sight.
Evie raced across the gym floor as if the whole world hadn’t just been blown upside down. Literally.
Whit laughed softly. “Resilient little scrap.”
“More so than her mom, I’m afraid.” Megan sagged and sat down on the metal riser.
“All Evie knows is that everyone is okay and you’re here.” Whit sat beside her, his leg pressing a warm reassurance against hers. “Maybe we should get you one of those cookies and a cup of that juice.”
“I’m okay. Really. We should go back to clearing the debris outside.” She braced her shoulders. “I’m being selfish in keeping you all to myself.”
“All the children are accounted for and the teachers have them well in hand. It’s getting dark. I think cleanup will be on hold until the morning.”
What kind of carnage would the morning reveal? Outside, sirens had wailed for the last twenty minutes. “I should take Evie and check back in at the shelter. Local animal control will need our help with housing displaced pets.”
“Civilians aren’t allowed on the road just yet and you don’t have a car.” He nudged her with his shoulder. “Face it, Megan. You can actually afford to take a few minutes to catch your breath.”
The concern in his brown eyes was genuine. The warmth she saw there washed over her like a jolt of pure java, stimulating her senses. Why hadn’t she ever noticed before what incredibly intense and expressive eyes he had? Sure, she’d noticed he was sexy, but then any woman who crossed his path would appreciate Whit Daltry’s charismatic good looks. And in fact, that had been a part of what turned her off for the past three years—how easily women fell into his arms. She’d let herself be conned by a man like that and it had turned her life upside down.
But the warmth in his eyes now, the caring he’d shown in helping her get to Evie today presented a new side to Whit she’d never seen before. He might not be romance material for her, but he’d been a good guy just now and that meant a lot to a woman who didn’t accept help easily.
She slumped back against the riser behind her. “Thank you for what you did for me today—for me and for Evie. I know you would have done the same for anyone stranded on the road.” As she said the words she realized they were true. Whit wasn’t the one-dimensional bad guy she’d painted him to be the past few years. There were layers to the man. “Still, the fact is, you were there for my child and I’ll never forget that.”
He smiled, his brown eyes twinkling with a hint of his devilish charm. “Does that mean I’m forgiven for refusing to let the shelter build on that tract of land you wanted so much?”
Layers. Definitely. Good—and bad. “I may be grateful, but I didn’t develop amnesia.”
He chuckled, a low rumble that drew a laugh from her, and before she knew what she was doing, she dropped her hand to his shoulder and squeezed.
“Thank you.” She leaned to kiss his cheek in a heartfelt thank-you just as he turned to answer.
Their lips brushed. Just barely skimmed, but a crackle shot through her so tangibly she could have sworn the storm had returned with a bolt of lightning.
Gasping, she angled back, her eyes wide, his inscrutable.
She inched along the riser. “I need to get Evie...and um, thank you.”
She shot to her feet, racing toward her daughter, away from the temptation to test the feeling and kiss him again.
That wasn’t what she’d expected. At all. But then nothing about Whit had ever been predictable, damn his sexy body, hot kiss and hero’s rescue. She’d been every bit as gullible as her mother once. And while she could never regret having Evie in her life, she damn well wouldn’t fall victim to trusting an unworthy man again. She owed it to Evie to set a better example, to break the cycle the women in her family seemed destined to repeat.
And if that meant giving up any chance for another toe-searing kiss from Whit Daltry, then so be it.
Two (#ulink_82859124-8612-5c6b-b762-d30216f588a6)
Six Weeks Later
The wild she-cat in his arms left scratches on his shoulders.
Whit Daltry adjusted his hold on the long-haired calico, an older female kitten that had wandered—scraggly and with no collar—onto the doorstep of his Pine Valley home. Luckily, he happened to know the very attractive director of Royal’s Safe Haven Animal Shelter.
He stepped out of his truck and kicked the door closed, early morning sunshine reflecting off his windshield. Not a cloud in the sky, unlike that fateful day the F4 tornado had ripped through Royal, Texas. The shelter had survived unscathed, but the leaves had been stripped from the trees, leaving branches unnaturally bare for this region of Texas, even in November. The town bore lasting scars from that day that would take a lot longer to heal than the scratches from the frantic calico.
He should have gotten one of those pet carriers or a box to transport the cat. If the beast clawed its way out of his arms, chances were the scared feline would bolt away and be tough as hell to catch again. Apparently he wasn’t adept at animal rescue.
That was Megan’s expertise.
The thought of seeing her again sent anticipation coursing through him as each step brought him closer to the single-story brick structure. Heaven knew he could use a distraction from life right now. For six weeks, ever since they’d shared that kiss after the tornado, he’d been looking for an excuse to see her, but the town had been in chaos clearing the debris. Some of his properties had been damaged as well. He owned multiple apartment buildings and rental homes all over town. And while he might have a lighthearted approach to his social life, he was serious when it came to business and was always damn sure going to be there for his tenants when they needed him.
He’d thrown himself into the work to distract himself from the biggest loss of all—the death of his good friend Craig Richardson in the storm. It had sent him into shock for the first couple of weeks, as he grieved for Craig and tried to find ways to help his pal’s widow. God, they were all still in a tailspin and he didn’t know if he would be in any better shape by the memorial service that was scheduled for after Thanksgiving.
So he focused on restoring order to the town, the only place he’d ever called home after a rootless childhood being evicted from place after place. And with each clean-up operation, he thought back to the day of the storm, to clearing aside the rubble in the day care.
To Megan’s kiss afterward.
Sure the kiss had been impulsive and motivated by gratitude, and she’d meant to land it on his cheek. But he would bet good money that she’d been every bit as affected by the spontaneous kiss as he was.
Granted, he’d always been attracted to her in spite of their sparring. But he’d managed to keep a tight rein on those feelings for the three and a half years he’d known her because she’d made it clear she found him barely one step above pond scum. Now, he couldn’t ignore the possibility that the chemistry was mutual. So finally, here he was. He had the perfect excuse, even if it wasn’t the perfect time.
And Megan wouldn’t be able to avoid him as she’d been doing since their clash over the site where she’d wanted the new shelter built. A battle he’d won. Although from the sleek look of the Safe Haven facility, she’d landed on her feet and done well for the homeless four-legged residents of Royal, Texas.
Tucking the cat into his suit coat and securing her with a firm grip, he stepped into the welcoming reception area, its tiled surfaces giving off a freshly washed bleach smell. The waiting area was spacious, but today, there were wire crates lining two walls, one with cats, the other with small dogs. They were clean and neat, but the shelter was packed to capacity. He’d heard the shelter had taken in a large number of strays displaced during the storm, but he hadn’t fully grasped the implications until now.
The shelter had a reputation for its innovative billboards, slogans and holiday-themed decor, but right now, every ounce of energy here seemed to be focused on keeping the animals fed and the place sparkling clean.
He closed the door, sealing himself inside.
The cat sunk her claws in deeper. Whit hissed almost as loudly as the feline and searched the space for help. Framed posters featured everything from collages of adopters to advice on flea prevention. Painted red-and-black paw prints marked the walls with directions he already knew in theory since he’d reviewed the plans during his land dispute with Megan.
A grandmotherly woman sat behind the counter labeled “volunteer receptionist.” He recognized the retired legal secretary from past business ventures. She was texting on her phone, and waved for him to wait an instant before she glanced up.
He swept his hat off and set it on the counter. “Morning, Miss Abigail—”
“Good mornin’, Whit,” the lady interrupted with a particularly thick Southern accent, her eyes widening with surprise. The whole town knew he and Megan avoided each other like the plague. “What a pleasant surprise you’ve decided to adopt from us. Our doggies are housed to your right in kennel runs. But be sure to peek at the large fenced-in area outside. Volunteers take them there to exercise in the grassy area.”
She paused for air, but not long enough for him to get in a word. “Although now I see you’re a cat person. Never would have guessed that.” She grinned as the calico peeked out of his suit jacket, purring as if the ferocious feline hadn’t drawn blood seconds earlier. “Kitties are kept in our free roam area. If you find one you would like to adopt, we have meet-and-greet rooms for your sweetheart there to meet with your new feline friend—”
“I’m actually here to make a donation.” He hadn’t planned on that, but given all the extra crates, he could see the shelter needed help. So much of the post-tornado assistance had been focused on helping people and cleaning up the damaged buildings. But he should have realized the repercussions of the storm would have a wider ripple effect.
“A donation?” Miss Abigail set aside her phone. “Let me call our director right away—oh, here she is now.”
He pivoted to find Megan walking down the dog corridor, toward the lobby, a beagle on a loose leash at her side. He could see the instant she registered his presence. She blinked fast, nibbling her lip as she paused midstep for an instant before forging ahead, the sweet curves of her hips sending a rush of want through him.
Her bright red hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. He ached to sweep away that gold clasp and thread his fingers through the fiery strands, to find out if her hair was as silky as it looked. He wanted her, had since the first time he’d seen her when they crossed paths in the lawyer’s office during the dispute over a patch of property. He’d expected to smooth things over regarding finding an alternate location for the new shelter. He usually had no trouble charming people, but she’d taken to disliking him right away. Apparently her negative impression had only increased every time she perceived one of his projects as “damaging” to nature when he purchased a piece of wetlands.
He’d given up trying to figure out why she couldn’t see her way clear to making nice. Because she had a reputation for being everyone’s pal, a caring and kindhearted woman who took in strays of all kinds, ready to pitch in to help anyone. Except for him.
“Megan,” the receptionist cleared her throat, “Mr. Daltry here has brought us a donation.”
“Another cat. Just what we were lacking.” Megan’s smile went tight.
He juggled his hold on the fractious fur ball. “I do plan to write a check to cover the expense of taking in another animal, but yes, I need to drop off the stray. She’s been wandering around in the woods near my house. She doesn’t have a collar and clearly hasn’t been eating well.”
“Could have been displaced because of the storm and has been surviving on her own in the wild ever since, poor girl. Animals have a knack for ditching their collars. Did you take her to a vet to check for a microchip?”
“I figured you could help me with that. Or maybe someone has come by here looking for her.”
“So you’re sure it’s a girl?”
“I think so.”
“Let’s just pray she’s not in heat or about to have kittens.”
Oh, crap. He hadn’t thought about that.
Megan passed him the dog leash and took the squirming cat from his arms. Their wrists brushed in the smooth exchange. A hint of her cinnamon scent drifted by, teasing him with memories of that too-brief kiss a month ago.
She swallowed hard once; it was the only sign she’d registered the brief contact, aside from the fact that she kept her eyes firmly averted from his. What would he see in those emerald-green eyes? A month ago, after her impulsive kiss, he’d seen surprise—and desire.
He watched her every move, trying to get a read on her.
“Hey, beautiful,” she crooned to the kitty, handling the feline with obvious skill and something more...an unmistakable gift. “Let’s get a scanner and check to see if you have a chip. If we’re lucky, you’ll have your people back very soon.”
Kneeling, she pulled a brown, boxy device from under the counter and waved the sensor along the back of the cat’s neck. She frowned and swept it over the same place again. Then she broadened the search along the cat’s shoulders and legs, casting a quick glance at Whit. “Sometimes the chip migrates on the body.”
But after sweeping along the cat’s entire back, Megan shook her head and sighed. “No luck.”
“She was pretty matted when I found her yesterday.” He patted the beagle’s head awkwardly. He didn’t have much experience with pets, his only exposure to animals coming with horseback riding. The cat and dog were a helluva lot smaller than a Palomino. “I combed her out last night and she’s been pissed at me ever since.”
She glanced up quickly, her eyes going wide with surprise. “You brushed the cat?”
“Yeah, so?” He shrugged. “She needed it.”
