Little Girl Found

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Little Girl Found Page 6

by Jo Leigh


  His hip had stopped throbbing, but he grimaced as he walked, anticipating the stabs of pain he’d almost grown accustomed to. But it wasn’t nearly as intense as he’d prepared for.

  He probably should have been doing those exercises the physical therapist had given him. She’d told him it would help, but he’d figured she was full of crap. It was hard to imagine, but maybe he’d been mistaken. Maybe he wasn’t destined to live the life of a cripple.

  No. Better not start thinking that way. It would only get him into trouble. He’d never be whole again, and no amount of leg lifts was going to change that.

  As he passed the bathroom door, he heard laughter. Feminine. Womanly. A good sound.

  But then he got to his room and saw his neatly-made bed. Fresh sheets, too. He wished she hadn’t done that. It made him uncomfortable to think she’d seen the way he’d been living. She probably thought he was a huge slob. Hell, he’d become a real slob. It was the damn hip, that was all. But she wouldn’t know that. She’d think he always lived like this.

  He shook the depressing thoughts away and grabbed the laptop from his dresser. She designed web sites. Maybe he’d find hers by doing a search for her name. She was probably very talented. Pity he hadn’t met her six months ago.

  Chapter Six

  Hailey put away the last of the dinner dishes and checked on Jack and Megan. The two of them were in his chair again, this time watching The Simpsons. She wasn’t sure either one of them liked it that much, if their expressions were anything to go by. Megan watched little Maggie, mirroring the thumb-sucking movement for movement. Jack seemed perplexed by the whole show, and she wondered if he’d ever seen it before.

  “This is for kids?” he asked when she joined them in the living room.

  “No, actually it’s also for adults. I like it. It’s silly, but there’re some very sophisticated jokes in there, too.”

  “Uh-huh,” he said, looking at her with that same perplexed gaze.

  “And I suppose all you watch is PBS and the Discovery channel?”

  He grinned. “ESPN, too. But only for the social commentary.”

  “You’re an only child, right?”

  “How’d you guess?” he asked, his gaze following her all the way to the couch.

  “I’m not sure. Just a feeling.”

  He shifted unconsciously so that Megan’s head fell more naturally on his shoulder. “You’re a middle child. Right?”

  She nodded. “Yeah.”

  “I figured,” he said. “You take care of people. I read that’s a trait of middle children.”

  “That’s not all I do.”

  “No, but it’s what comes naturally to you. You want to make things comfortable.”

  “I know. I’m trying to break the habit, but—”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “No. It’s not such a great trait to have.”

  “Really? Want to ask Megan about that?”

  Hailey smiled.

  Megan looked up at Jack’s chin, then back to Bart and Lisa.

  “Okay, so it’s not as bad as some things. But it’s gotten me into situations…”

  He waited patiently while she wondered why she was about to share so much. The answer didn’t come. “The men I’ve chosen haven’t been very good for me. I let them take advantage.”

  “I can see that. I can see where a man would want to sit back and let you carry the load.”

  “The worst part about it is that I’m so predictable,” she said, leaning back on his couch, letting her shoulders relax. “I wanted to be rebellious. It was a disaster. There was nothing exciting about it. Nothing daring. I just did the opposite of what I felt I should do, but that’s being controlled just the same.”

  “You seemed pretty darn rebellious this afternoon.”

  “I did?”

  “Most folks wouldn’t have gone to that apartment.”

  “That wasn’t rebellious. That was stupid.”

  He chuckled, making Megan’s hair tremble. “Yeah, that, too.”

  “So what now, Detective?” she asked, and by her wince, she’d realized her mistake the moment the word was out of her mouth.

  “Sleep,” he said, determined not to show that her slip had made him uncomfortable. He wasn’t a detective anymore, and he probably wouldn’t be again. But that wasn’t her fault. “We’ll figure out what’s next in the morning.”

  “I’m not ready for bed yet,” she said. “It’s too early.”

  He stared at the burger commercial for a long while, then turned back to her. “I don’t have a lot of things to do in here.”

  “Television is fine.”

  “I have a couple of books in the bedroom,” he said.

  Hailey shook her head, then curled her legs under her and focused on the TV. Even though she watched the show, she could tell his gaze was on her. It wasn’t like this afternoon, when she’d felt Officer Nichols’s eyes on her back. This was a different kind of watchfulness. One she didn’t seem to mind, except that she had the urge to fix her hair.

  What kind of man was he? she wondered. A loner. A rogue. But there was a gentleness about him that pulled him out of the little box she wanted to put him in. It was clear he didn’t know what to do with Megan, and yet…She turned and her gaze met his.

  So dark, those eyes. With those sinfully long lashes. So full of mystery. Shuttered, but not as tightly as he’d like to believe. There was vulnerability there. And kindness. But more than that, she sensed a helplessness in him. Which was foreign territory, that much she knew for sure. The man had never been helpless before. He’d always come to the rescue of those who were.

  Who would rescue him?

  Not her. Not with her weaknesses. Her struggle to be independent. He needed someone strong, of heart, of character, of mind.

  He looked away slowly, moving his head to force his gaze from hers. It made her conscious of how deeply she’d looked at him, how she hadn’t hidden her curiosity at all. “Jack?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Is this how it’s supposed to feel?”

  “What?” he asked, his eyes on the TV now.

  “I don’t know. I guess you’re used to it, but it’s my first time being this close to—”

  “I’m not used to it.”

  “It’s surreal. Like it happened on the X-Files or something. I’ve never been scared like that before. And frankly, I don’t ever want to be again.”

  “You kept your head,” he said, finally looking at her. “You did great.”

  “I suppose it’s good to know that I won’t fall apart or faint.”

  “Hell, I would have.”

  She smiled. “You lie like a rug.”

  “Ouch,” he said. “You’ve got a sharp tongue there, missy.”

  Her smile faded as her gaze moved to the little girl on his lap. “It’ll never be the same again, will it?”

  “No,” he said, and she knew he’d gotten her meaning. “It won’t. That’s not to say it won’t be good. It’ll just be different.”

  “I need for it to be good. I don’t think I could handle things at all if I thought it was going to get worse.”

  “Don’t think so much.”

  “Is that how you get by? You don’t think about it?”

  “That’s the goal,” he said, his voice suddenly weary. “I don’t succeed nearly as much as I’d like.”

  “I’m not sure that’s the answer,” she said.

  “Maybe not. But it’s the only one I’ve got.”

  She sighed, then rubbed her temples with her fore-fingers where the beginning of a headache was sneaking up on her.

  “You okay?”

  She nodded. Then she leaned her head back on the couch cushion and closed her eyes.

  “Hailey.”

  She opened her eyes. Jack stood in front of her, his hand on her shoulder. “What?” she asked.

  “You fell asleep. About two hours ago. But you’re gonna be stiff in the morning if you stay here all nigh
t. Why don’t you go on to bed? You can sleep in my room.” He gave her a half smile. “The sheets are clean.”

  “I’ll be fine out here.”

  He shook his head. “I’m used to this. I mostly sleep in the chair.”

  “Which is probably why you hurt so badly. Come on, Jack,” she said, standing, stretching her arms way over her head. “You go on into your room. I can see you’re as wiped out as I am.”

  He started to protest, but she held up a hand to stop him. “I want to be near Megan,” she said. She looked at the floor where Megan had spread her quilt. She needed a blanket, but other than that, she was good for the night.

  “We can put her in the bedroom.”

  “No. And that’s the end of it.” She went to the hall closet and took out the extra set of sheets and two blankets. She dropped her things on the couch, then put the other blanket over Megan, making sure she was all covered up.

  Megan stirred, then opened her eyes. “Hailey?”

  “Yes, honey?”

  “Is it time for my bedtime story?”

  Hailey smiled. “One story, and then it’s back to sleep.”

  Megan looked up at Jack, then back at her. So sweet. So helpless. Like a kitten weaned too early. Hailey’s heart ached as she sat on the floor and began to tell the story of Sleeping Beauty.

  Jack listened to her for a long time. He sat on the arm of the couch, then about ten minutes later, moved to the cushion. The story wasn’t exactly new to him, but the way Hailey told it was. Her voice alone could have soothed a whole psych ward. When she described the baby in the story, she made it sound exactly like Megan. He found himself smiling as Hailey used silly accents for the three fairy godmothers.

  But he didn’t want to fall asleep on the couch, and if he listened any longer, he would. So he hoisted himself up, the throb in his hip a part of him now. He took his pills and headed for the hallway. But he stopped once more and looked back at Megan. Her eyes were closed, and as he watched, her little wet thumb fell out of her mouth.

  Hailey bent down and kissed the girl on her forehead and then on her nose. She tucked her in again to keep her warm and then stood up. “I didn’t think you were still awake.”

  “I won’t be for long.” He took a step, then stopped again. “Are you sure I can’t persuade you to let me sleep out here?”

  She shook her head. “Nope.”

  He sighed. “Have it your own way.”

  She frowned slightly as she moved toward the couch. “You wouldn’t happen to have any pajamas I could borrow, do you?”

  “I think that can be arranged.”

  “I’ll get them,” she said. “If you’ll tell me where they are.”

  He was too tired to argue with her. “Third drawer down. And no peeking at my underwear.”

  Her soft laughter lingered in the room after she’d gone down the hall. It had been too long since he’d had a woman’s laughter in this dump. But he better not get used to it. He made his way into the bathroom to get ready for bed, wondering all the while what pajamas she’d choose. He had quite a selection. His aunt in Rhode Island sent him a pair every year for Christmas. Most of them were simple cotton, but there was this one pair that was made out of something real clingy. The image of her in them spurred him to finish his nightly routine in half the time. But when he came out to say good-night, he saw she’d picked the plain old navy blue ones. Now if she’d left the bottoms in the drawer…

  “I’ll turn off the lights,” she said. “Is there anything else you need? A glass of water for the night-stand?”

  “I was just on my way to get it.”

  “I’ll go. You go get ready.”

  “Damn middle child,” he said, giving her one of his best scowls.

  “Sticks and stones, Jack. Sticks and stones.”

  She actually beat him to his room. As he walked in, she was putting down the glass with one hand and picking up his physical-therapy papers with the other.

  “These look tough,” she said. “I don’t think I could do half of them.”

  “That’s supposed to be a routine specific to my injuries and my physical condition at the time of the accident,” he said. “It’s all a bunch of crap if you ask me.”

  “You don’t do them?” she asked.

  “I do enough.”

  She frowned. “I’ll bet.”

  “Go to bed, middle child,” he said. “You’ve saved enough of the world today.”

  She put the papers back down, causing the pajama sleeve to straighten and her hand to completely disappear. She looked like a little kid in his clothes. Except, of course, for the curve of her breasts.

  “What are you smiling at?”

  “Nothing.”

  She sniffed her disbelief, then walked past him. But she didn’t make it out the door quite yet. She stopped, turned back. “Thank you,” she said.

  “For what?”

  “For not sending Megan away.”

  He nodded. Sending Megan to family services was the least of their problems. He had a lot of digging to do tomorrow. A lot of answers to find. But he had to admit that he’d sleep easier knowing the kid was safe with Hailey.

  THE AWARENESS that someone was in the room came slowly to him. A sound, a moan. No. That was his voice.

  There.

  A step. A creak from the floor.

  He was lying on his stomach, and now his hand slid slowly up the bed past his face, under the pillow, finding the welcome hard grip of his .357. He eased the safety off without opening his eyes.

  Another move. The bed dipping with the weight of the intruder…Hailey. It’s Hailey. The neighbor. The woman.

  Her hand on his shoulder. Delicate. Warm. Tentative. Moving now, down his back, to the small of his back where the pain centered before it radiated down his legs.

  Slight pressure. The palm of her hand in a tight circle. Deeper now. Rubbing. Warm.

  He moaned.

  “Shh,” she said, her voice as soft as the touch of her palm.

  “What are you doing?”

  “You were in pain,” she said. “I heard you from the other room.”

  “A pill,” he said, moving to get up.

  Her hand stilled. Stopped him. “In a minute,” she whispered. “Let me help.”

  He hesitated as her hand began to circle once again. Little by little she increased the pressure, a mixture of pain and pleasure, but with each movement the pain eased and the pleasure increased. The throbbing in his hip eased, too. All his concentration went to her hand, and the skin and muscle beneath her hand, and then to the sound of her breathing, the heat of her thigh touching his thigh.

  “Let it go,” she said, her voice a low murmur. “Let the pain go with each breath. Picture yourself somewhere you love. The mountains. The ocean. Your shoulders relax. With each breath, the tension slips away.”

  Her other hand was on his back. Both hands were moving, rubbing. Just the right place, the right pressure. The touch itself so welcome to flesh that had been so long without it.

  Her words continued but had no meaning. Just the sound entering his head and snaking down to meet her hands. All his focus on her palms, on her heat.

  And then, a slow awareness of his legs, and his arms and shoulders. As if he’d been somewhere outside and had just now slipped back inside.

  An awareness of her, too. The way she made the bed dip. Her voice, like smoke swirling around him and inside him. Her scent. Womanly, sweet.

  Her hands moved up to his shoulder blades and she increased the pressure. He moaned again, feeling the first relief in days, months. Her heat healing him, and waking him. Waking a part of him that had been dormant. Stirring his thoughts away from his body and on to hers.

  “Relax,” she said. “You tensed up again.”

  He fought to bring his focus back to his muscles. But it was no good. He couldn’t turn his mind away from the picture of her hair, and her eyes, and the curves of her body.

  Her hands on his neck, on his b
are skin. It was too much, too real, and his body, the long dormant part of him, stirred. He didn’t want it to happen, and he struggled to disengage again, but then she ran her hand, her splayed fingers, through his hair. She leaned over, and he could feel the softness of her breast brush his arm.

  He moved, torn between the hell of his reaction and the heaven of her touch. He wanted her hands somewhere else. He wanted her lips on his. He wanted to feel her underneath him. As a woman. Not as a neighbor. Not as a nurse.

  He moaned again, and she leaned down, pressing her breast against his back.

  “Shh.”

  “No,” he said, embarrassed and flustered. He had no business getting aroused. He didn’t know her. She wasn’t coming on to him. She was trying to be nice. To help.

  “Please,” he said, forcing himself to sound calm. “It’s no good.”

  Her hands lifted. “Am I hurting you?”

  “No,” he said. “It’s not you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He took a deep breath, grateful for the darkness in his room. “I know. Don’t worry. You didn’t do anything wrong. I just need to take a pill now.”

  She didn’t move for a few seconds. Even though he knew she wasn’t touching him, the feel of her palms were imprinted on his flesh.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “No, don’t,” he said. “I feel better. Honestly. It was—”

  “I’ll see you in the morning,” she said.

  “Hailey, wait.”

  “Good night.”

  The bed moved, the floor creaked, and then the door shut. She was gone. He’d chased her away. But the effect of her hadn’t gone at all. Her scent lingered. The echo of her voice still played in his mind.

  It had been months since he’d felt this. Since he’d been aroused. Part of him had believed he’d never feel this again.

  It would have been easier if he hadn’t.

  He’d been more dead than alive for a long time. At home with his anguish and his anger. Drowning in his isolation. But then Hailey had come. Not just to his place, but past his defenses.

  She’d made him feel again. Made him remember he was a man. A broken man.

 

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