Danger at Her Door. Beth Cornelison
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mulled over the child’s remark about her father not wanting more trouble and factored in the vague comment that her mother had gone away someplace. Other people might consider Caitlyn’s home life none of their business and bid the girl goodbye as they walked away.
But not Megan.
As a teacher, she was duty-bound by law to investigate and report neglect. To her, those who looked the other way were as guilty as negligent parents.
“Come on, Caitlyn, let’s go see your daddy.” She took the child’s hand and led her across the street, making a point of reminding the girl to look both ways before they crossed.
Sam trotted along beside them contentedly, his ears perked and alert. He seemed intrigued by the change of course, and his nose searched the air for new smells.
“You know what?” Caitlyn skipped as they crossed her yard.
“What?”
“This mornin’ when Daddy was making breakfast, our toast caught on fire!” Caitlyn giggled and covered her mouth with her hand.
“Oh, my!” Megan clapped a hand to her cheek, adding the sort of animated and enthusiastic look of surprise her first graders loved. “What did he do?”
Caitlyn’s eyes twinkled with a mischievous gleam. “He threw the toast in the sink like this. Oo, ah, ow!” The little girl imitated her father juggling the burnt toast from hand to hand. “Then he said a bad word! Wanna hear it?”
Surveying the girl’s impish expression, Megan lifted an eyebrow. “No, thank you. I feel sure it’s a word you shouldn’t be repeating.”
Caitlyn shrugged. “Yeah. That’s what Daddy said, too. He said it was a grown-up word, and it slipped out on accident.”
Megan figured she had to give the girl’s father credit for at least trying to cover his gaffe. But he still had a bit of explaining to do for his inattention to his daughter’s whereabouts at the moment.
They tramped up the brick steps to the front porch together—woman, child and dog—and Caitlyn wiggled the doorknob. “See? Locked out!”
Megan pounded on the front door. When no one answered after a few moments, she pounded again.
“Are you mad at me?” a tiny voice squeaked.
Glancing down at the girl, Megan met a wide, dark-eyed gaze that melted her heart. Tears puddled in Caitlyn’s eyes, and Megan caught her breath. “Oh, no, darling. I’m not mad at you. Really.” She knelt beside the girl and tugged on her ponytail. “I just want to be sure you are safe and that your daddy knows where you are. Okay?”
She flashed Caitlyn an encouraging smile, winning a bright grin in return. Finally the doorknob rattled, and as the front door swung open, Caitlyn sidled behind Megan.
Turning her gaze toward the portal, Megan encountered bare feet and a pair of long masculine legs. Her gaze drifted upward, past a damp blue towel wrapped low on lean hips, to a broad, bare chest. Tiny rivers of water trickled down the firm, flat stomach to disappear beneath the towel.
Megan’s mouth went dry. Images of the stripper’s gyrating hips flickered in her memory. Yet where the stripper had evoked terrifying memories, this wet, masculine body stirred a more innate female response, something physical and wholly unexpected. Unsettling in a way that had nothing to do with fear.
“Can I help you?”
The question jerked her attention back. She gasped and rose to her feet. The man at the door dwarfed her by several inches. As Megan gaped, an awkward flip-flopping in her gut, water dripped from his hair and puddles collected at his bare feet.
“You…w-were in the shower.” Megan grimaced and gave herself a mental thump on the head for stating the obvious.
“Uh…yeah.” A lopsided grin, much like Caitlyn’s, tugged the corner of his mouth.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize. I—”
He shrugged a muscular shoulder dismissively. “Whatever. Lately, finishing much of anything without interruption is a rarity.” His smile turned wry, exasperated. “So—” He raised a palm. “Was there something you needed or can I go back to my shower?”
Just like that, the reality that she was standing there conversing with this nearly naked man slammed home.
Megan swallowed hard, and the bravado she’d mustered to challenge his parental negligence slipped.
If his dishabille bothered him, he didn’t let on. He had the presence of a man who knew how to wield control of a situation.
But Megan hadn’t felt truly in control of her life in years. She slid a hand into Sam’s thick fur to draw strength and comfort from her canine protector’s presence. Squaring her shoulders, she mustered the presence of mind to meet the man’s hazel eyes.
“I presume you’re Caitlyn’s father?” Megan reached behind her and guided the girl into view.
His brow furrowed, and his gaze flew to the little girl. “Caitlyn, what have you done now?”
“Nothing!” Caitlyn whined.
“Did you know she was outside…by herself?” Megan placed meaningful emphasis on the last words. “Locked out?”
He looked baffled for a moment. “No. How—? She was supposed to be locked in! Caitlyn, how did you get outside?”
Caitlyn ducked her head and picked at a scab on her arm. “The window.”
“What window?” her dad asked, frustration rife in his tone.
The child aimed a finger at a sill where the screen had been popped out, cockeyed.
The man’s eyes rounded. “Caitlyn! How’d—”
He stopped and drew a slow breath before raising his gaze to Megan’s again. “Thank you for bringing her home.”
Warmth and appreciation filled his mossy brown eyes, and Megan’s body answered with a tug of feminine interest she hadn’t felt in so long she almost didn’t recognize it. But she couldn’t deny the gut-level attraction to her new neighbor that zipped through her veins, steamrolled by a dose of adrenaline. Her reaction to this man was unexpected, overwhelming. Tantalizing.
And what are you going to do about it? a voice in her head asked.
The man tugged lightly on Caitlyn’s ponytail, deep affection lighting his eyes along with exasperation. “And, no, I didn’t know she was outside. I locked the doors to keep her inside while I was in the shower.” He sighed tiredly, tiny creases beside his eyes adding to his roguish appeal. “I thought she was watching the video I put on for her.”
Megan nodded mutely while her thoughts raced and her stomach performed another forward roll.
It’s still too soon. How can you even think of starting something with a man until you get your head straight? Until you’ve put the attack behind you in every way?
Caitlyn’s father tightened the towel on his hips then held his hand out. “I don’t usually meet new neighbors in my birthday suit, but under the circumstances…I’m Jack Calhoun.”
His birthday suit. Oh, heavens!
Her pulse increased its tempo, and a tiny quiver shook her knees. She raised an unsteady hand and gave his a quick shake. “Megan Hoffman. I’m at one twenty-two. The red brick across the street.”
Jack leaned out the front door far enough to glance toward her house. “So now I know where to go to borrow sugar. Or—more likely—tranquilizers.” Jack cut a side glance to her. “Kidding. Sort of.”
Megan caught a whiff of his spicy deodorant soap, and a sensuous tingle slid over her skin. She rubbed goose bumps from her arms, despite the muggy day. Her response to Jack rattled her, caught her off guard.
And