With Valor And Devotion. Charlotte Maclay
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age—”
“I’m not that old,” she objected. Though granted, between the heart-wrenching cases she handled and her own personal history, she sometimes felt ancient compared to her twenty-four years.
“Shoot, honey, by the time I was your—”
“Addy, there’s a child here,” Kristin interrupted. “No parents, no guardian. I’m supposed to leap into action.”
“Oh, right.” She pulled a chart from the pile on her desk. “You’re gonna love this one. Randy Marshall, a six-year-old minx if I ever saw one. A real charmer. Claims his mother is dead, and he can’t quite remember who he’s been living with.”
Kristin took the chart from her. “Is he hurt?”
“A little smoke inhalation. Doc Plum wants to keep him overnight for observation. They’ll move him upstairs pretty soon.”
“Okay, I’ll go meet our young minx.”
Addy gestured over her shoulder toward a curtained examining room and waggled her eyebrows. “Mike Gables is in there with him now.”
Kristin blinked, confused. “A relative?”
“Lord, no, honey. You really gotta get out more. Mike Gables is the most studly firefighter in town. He’s probably dated every single nurse in the hospital—yours truly included—plus a few of the married ones, would be my guess. In a world of hunks, he rates a solid ten. He’s the guy that rescued the little boy and ended up needing to be checked out himself.”
While it was all very noble that the firefighter had risked his own life to rescue a child, Kristin bristled at the thought of a man who dated every woman he met. She’d fallen once for a sweet-talker who hadn’t believed in commitment, a regular Prince Charming who’d walked out on her at the most critical moment of her life. She didn’t plan to go down that path again.
Squaring her shoulders, she headed for the examining room. As she reached for the curtain, a childish giggle greeted her, followed by the low rumble of baritone laughter.
A disquieting shiver of awareness rolled down her spine and she mentally chided herself. A deep, seductive voice did not make him a ten on her scale.
She pulled back the curtain and was met by two sets of dark brown eyes that flashed with amusement and intelligence. The owner of the older set stood, a slow smile curling lips that could only be described as dangerously kissable. Still dressed in his turnout coat and pants, his jacket hung open revealing a T-shirt pulled taut over a well-muscled chest. His mussed saddle-brown hair invited a woman to tame the rebellious waves.
Damn! An eleven!
Forcing her gaze away from the firefighter, Kristin smiled at the child. “You must be Randy. I’m Kristin McCoy from Children’s Services.”
“Did you bring Suzie?”
Her gaze darted to Mike for an explanation. What she got was a thousand-watt smile.
“His dog. Suzie’s real special to Randy. We rescued her from the fire, too. Had to give her oxygen.”
It was even harder this time to look away from the firefighter, which irritated Kristin no end. Normally she had far better control over her reactions to any man, particularly those who were smooth talkers. But then, she didn’t often meet an eleven.
Her gaze snapped back to the boy. “I’m sorry, Randy. I didn’t know about your dog, but I’m sure someone is taking good care of her.”
The child hung his head. “She probably misses me.”
“Yes, she probably does,” Kristin said softly. It was all she could do not to take the child in her arms and hold him close. But the ability to distance oneself from a client was sometimes all that kept a social worker sane in Children’s Services. That was a struggle Kristin fought almost every day. “Why don’t we talk about where your family is, and then we can get you and Suzie and your family all back together again.”
“I dunno,” the boy mumbled.
“He says his mom’s dead,” the firefighter said. “By the way, I’m Mike Gables.”
“Yes, I know.” She didn’t look at him this time.
“My reputation precedes me?”
“You could say that.”
His amused chuckle teased around the edges of the barrier she’d erected years ago to protect herself from men like Mike Gables.
“Randy, you’re going to have to tell me who you were living with.”
“I can’t ’member. I must have hit my head.”
“Hit your—”
“Amnesia,” Mike suggested mildly. “A bad case of voluntarius forgetingus. It’s in all the medical textbooks. Very serious.”
The boy looked up hopefully. His hair was as straight as Mike’s was wavy and might have been cut with pinking shears it was so uneven. “Yeah, that’s what I gots.”
Kristin suppressed a smile. “I see.” But that wouldn’t help her to locate whatever adults were responsible for Randy. “Maybe he’ll experience a spontaneous cure by the morning. I’ve heard of that happening in cases like this.” She risked a glance at Mike. He looked troubled.
“Can I go to sleep now? I think it’s past my bedtime.”
“It certainly is.” Despite her vow to keep her emotional distance, she reached down and covered the boy with a light blanket, letting her hand linger in a caress. He was about the age Bobby would have…
She thrust the thought aside. “Do you want me to stay until they take you upstairs?”
His eyelids drooping, he shook his head.
Mike gestured that they should leave. Instinctively, Kristin knew she shouldn’t go anywhere with the man, not even as far as the nurses’ station. But it seemed childish to object.
He followed her out of the cubicle, a little too closely, she thought. She could feel his eyes on her, the heat of his body warming the air around her. Or maybe she just imagined that he’d slipped inside her personal space. Whatever the case, her skin flushed and the hairs on her nape rose. To her dismay, she suddenly wished she’d worn an austere business suit tonight instead of casual slacks and a boat-neck T-shirt. Protective armor to bolster her good sense would have been a good idea, too.
Behind her, Mike was fascinated by the sassy sway of her ponytail—like a determined red flag warning him off—in contrast to the inviting swing of her hips. A woman of contradictions, he suspected. But then, what woman wasn’t?
He smiled to himself. This one had green eyes, not bright like spring grass, but a deeper shade that made him think of a forest glade that held dark, painful secrets. An intriguing thought and more fanciful than was his usual style.
She stopped, turned abruptly, and he almost ran into her. A part of him wished he’d taken advantage of the opportunity to touch her, to see if her skin was as soft as it appeared. Maybe later….
She looked up at him with those deep, secret-filled eyes. “Did Randy tell you anything about who’d he’d been living with?”
“Nope, and I don’t think he’s going to either.”
Her nicely arched auburn brows lowered into a frown. “Why not?”
“The house had been vacant a long time. I’d guess they were squatters and maybe left him on his own while they went off to the movies or something. From what I saw, they didn’t have much in the way of possessions. Itinerants would be my guess and probably leery of the law.” He shrugged. “Maybe the cops can find out something from the neighbors but I wouldn’t bet my paycheck on it.”
“If I can’t find his family or a responsible adult, I’ll have to place him in foster