“I’m not another one of your wounded chicks that you can cluck over and mother,”

Matt warned. “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. The front of her gown and robe were still sopping wet, and the thin fabric clung to her body like a second skin.

“Right now I’m not in any shape to do anything about those appetites, but I will be soon,” he said. “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—I was only trying to help.”

“Oh? Is that what you were doing just now?

Helping me…?”

Dear Reader,

Welcome to a spectacular month of great romances as we continue to celebrate Silhouette’s 20th Anniversary all year long!

Beloved bestselling author Nora Roberts returns with Irish Rebel, a passionate sequel to her very first book, Irish Thoroughbred. Revisit the spirited Grant family as tempers flare, sparks fly and love ignites between the newest generation of Irish rebels!

Also featured this month is Christine Flynn’s poignant THAT’S MY BABY! story, The Baby Quilt, in which a disillusioned, high-powered attorney finds love and meaning in the arms of an innocent young mother.

Silhouette reader favorite Joan Elliott Pickart delights us with her secret baby story, To a MacAllister Born, adding to her heartwarming cross-line miniseries, THE BABY BET. And acclaimed author Ginna Gray delivers the first compelling story in her series, A FAMILY BOND, with A Man Apart, in which a wounded loner lawman is healed heart, body and soul by the nurturing touch of a beautiful, compassionate woman.

Rounding off the month are two more exciting ongoing miniseries. From longtime author Susan Mallery, we have a sizzling marriage-of-convenience story, The Sheik’s Secret Bride, the third book in her DESERT ROGUES series. And Janis Reams Hudson once again shows her flair for Western themes and Native American heroes with The Price of Honor, a part of her miniseries, WILDERS OF WYATT COUNTY.

It’s a terrific month of page-turning reading from Special Edition. Enjoy!

All the best,

Karen Taylor Richman

Senior Editor

A Man Apart
Ginna Gray

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Books by Ginna Gray

Silhouette Special Edition

Golden Illusion #171

The Heart’s Yearning #265

Sweet Promise #320

Cristen’s Choice #373

*Fools Rush In #416

*Where Angels Fear #468

If There Be Love #528

*Once in a Lifetime #661

*A Good Man Walks In #722

*Building Dreams #792

*Forever #854

*Always #891

The Bride Price #973

Alissa’s Miracle #1117

*Meant for Each Other #1221 † A Man Apart #1330

Silhouette Romance

The Gentling #285

The Perfect Match #311

Heart of the Hurricane #338

Images #352

First Love, Last Love #374

The Courtship of Dani #417

Sting of the Scorpion #826

Silhouette Books

Silhouette Christmas Stories 1987

“Season of Miracles”

GINNA GRAY

A native Houstonian, Ginna Gray admits that, since childhood, she has been a compulsive reader as well as a head-in-the-clouds dreamer. Long accustomed to expressing her creativity in tangible ways—Ginna also enjoys painting and needlework—she finally decided to try putting her fantasies and wild imaginations down on paper. The result? The mother of two now spends eight hours a day as a full-time writer.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter One

More than a dozen policemen stood vigil in the corridor outside the hospital operating room. Every few minutes, more officers arrived to join the silent watch. When one of their own took a hit, the men and women in blue rallied around.

Less than an hour earlier, the frantic call had gone out over the police radio frequency.

“Shots fired! Shots fired! Officer down! We need assistance!”

Within seconds, every available man and woman on the Houston police force had raced to aid the besieged detectives at the scene of a drug bust gone bad.

Now, grim-faced and tense, those same men and women waited for news of their fellow officer’s condition.

John Werner and Hank Pierson, the two men who were closest to the wounded officer, paced like caged lions, their faces dark and stony.

Guilt and worry ate at Hank like sharp-toothed animals. Dammit, it was his duty to protect his partner’s back, and he had let Matt down. Now he might die. Matt had taken two bullets, and for that he blamed himself. Under a hail of automatic weapons’ fire, hunkered down behind their squad car, he had radioed in the frantic call for assistance and fired random shots at the attackers over the hood of the vehicle, but beyond that he had been helpless.

Hank suddenly stopped pacing, and with an oath, he slammed the side of his fist against the wall. Several of the other policemen eyed him askance, but no one said a word.

Lieutenant Werner understood his detective’s frustration and ignored the outburst.

As chief of detectives, John Werner felt a personal responsibility for every man and woman on his squad, but he shared a special friendship with the wounded officer. John had gone through the police academy with Matt’s father. Patrick Dolan had been John’s best friend and one of the finest officers the city had ever had.

That it was Matt Dolan who had been shot had spread like wildfire through the Houston Police Department. The news had stunned everyone and left them shaken. Matt was a smart, straight-arrow, tough cop, a twelve-year veteran on the force. He had seemed invincible.

The double doors of the operating room swung open and every officer in the hallway sprang to attention. A middle-aged man dressed in green scrubs emerged and flashed a look around at the crowd, meeting the anxious expressions with a grim look.

“I’m Dr. Barnes. Who’s in charge here?” He raked the paper scrub cap off his head and absently massaged the tense muscles in his neck.

“I am.” John Werner stepped forward. Hank edged up beside him. “How is he, Doc?”

“Alive. Just barely. The first bullet nicked his right lung. The second caused severe damage to his right leg. Plus, he lost a lot of blood before he arrived here. He’s a tough nut, though, I’ll give him that. If he weren’t, he’d never have made it this far. But he is in bad shape.”

“I see.” John’s jaw clenched and unclenched for several seconds. At last he asked the question that was foremost on his and every other officer’s mind, the question to which they all dreaded the answer. “Is Matt going to make it, Doc?”

“Barring complications, yes.”

“Thank God for that.”

“Yes, well…I feel it’s only fair to warn you, given the condition of that leg…well…”

“What? What’re you trying to say, Doc?” Hank demanded.

“Just that…well…I think you should know that it’s unlikely he will ever be able to return to police work. At least, not on the streets.”

Matt turned his head on the pillow and gazed out the window at nothing in particular. The lady in the mist had come to him again last night.

The fanciful thought brought a hint of a smile to his stern mouth. Nevertheless, that was how he thought of the recurring dream that had plagued him all his life: a visitation by a phantom figure.

It was strange. For the past fifteen or twenty years he’d had the dream very infrequently—once or twice a year at the most—but since awaking in the hospital two weeks ago, it had been nightly. Not even the sleeping tablets the staff administered so faithfully had helped.

Absently, Matt fingered the jagged fragment of silver that hung from a chain around his neck, his thumb rubbing back and forth over the lines etched on either side. The pie-shaped wedge had been roughly cut from a silver medallion approximately two inches in diameter.

The instant Matt had regained consciousness he’d reached for the piece, and he’d panicked when he discovered it was no longer around his neck.

The medallion piece had been returned to him only because he had threatened to tear the place apart if it wasn’t. The hospital prohibited patients from wearing jewelry of any kind. Matt, however, had worn the medallion fragment since he was a small boy, never taking it off.

Matt’s fingers continued to rub the etched surface and jagged edges. Somehow, merely touching it seemed to soothe him. Particularly after a night of chasing after the lady in the mist.

He smiled again. The lady in the mist. He’d named the dream that years ago. It wasn’t scary or in any way threatening—just him and others he couldn’t identify, chasing through swirling mist after the shadowy figure of a woman, calling out to her, reaching for her as she backed away and disappeared—yet the experience always disturbed him. Invariably, he awoke with a start, his heart pounding. Last night had been no different. He wondered, as he had countless times, if he’d ever decipher the meaning behind the subconscious message.

Pushing the futile thought aside, Matt sighed and focused his attention elsewhere.

The impersonal atmosphere of the hospital made him feel adrift, removed from the world outside, a spectator with no part to play. Which, he supposed, was appropriate, since the life he had built for himself was most likely finished.

“Dammit, Matt, are you listening to me?”

John Werner stepped between the bed and the window, blocking Matt’s view of the street and giving him no option but to acknowledge him. The older man glared, his jaw thrust forward. “I’ve put up with your silent treatment long enough. If you think you can just clam up and pretend I’m not here, like you’ve been doing to me and everyone else for the past two weeks, think again. I won’t stand for it, you hear?”

John was a big bull of a man, standing six foot seven and weighing more than three hundred pounds. He had a broad, menacing face that looked as though it had been hewn from oak with a blunt ax and a voice that rumbled out like the wrath of God when he was angry. Most of the detectives on his squad cringed when he got on their cases.

Matt didn’t turn a hair.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The hell you don’t. You’ve had a steady stream of visitors—family and friends, the guys on the force, the department psychologist, even your doctors—but you barely talk to any of them. You just turn away and tune them out. The few times you have bothered to speak was just to bite someone’s head off. Well, it won’t work with me. Like it or not, we’re going to talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Oh, no? How about the fact that you’ve refused all the offers of help you’ve received? Huh? How about that? Hank here has practically begged you to come stay with him and his wife while you recuperate. So have several others, but you’ve turned them all down flat.” He nodded toward Hank Pierson, who stood on the other side of the room watching his partner with a worried expression. “Isn’t that right, Hank?”

“Sure is. Look, old buddy, it’s no problem. Patty and I really want you to stay with us.”

“Patty’s got enough on her hands with three kids to look after.”

“Hey, one more won’t bother Patty. Really. In fact, she insists. You know she thinks of you as family. We all do.”

“Thanks all the same, but no.” Matt shook his head and looked away.

“If you don’t want to stay with Hank and Patty, then how about someone else?” John persisted. “Several of the other guys and their wives have offered to look after you.”

“The answer is still no. I don’t need anyone to look after me. Besides, I don’t want to impose on my friends.”

“All right. I think you’re wrong and full of stiff-necked pride, but I understand. Trust me, though, like it or not, you will need someone to look after you when you leave here. At least for a while. So why don’t you let the department pay for a nurse to stay with you?”

“Forget it. I don’t want some stranger in my house. Anyway, I prefer to be alone. As soon as I get those discharge papers tomorrow, I’m going home.”

“You’re in no condition to stay in that town house alone,” John roared. “Dammit, man, you’ve got a long recuperation ahead of you, and once your body is healed you’re going to be in for some grueling rehab work before you’ll be ready to return to duty.”

Matt snorted. “What makes you think I’ll ever be?”

“Because I know you, you bullheaded Irishman. You’re not a quitter, any more than your old man was. And you love police work too much to throw in the towel without a fight.”

Matt shrugged. “The doctor doesn’t share your confidence.”

“So what does he know? You’re going to have to work your tail off for weeks, maybe even months, to pass the reentry physical, but if anyone can do it, you can.”

Matt gave another scornful snort. “You have more faith in me than I do.”’

“Probably, but that will change. Now, the way I see it, you’ve got two choices. You can either hire a live-in nurse or you can spend the summer up at my fishing lodge on Lake Livingston.”

“Your fishing lodge?”

“Why not? It’s the perfect place to recuperate. The fresh air and peace and quiet of the country will be good for you. You can go for walks in the woods and fish off the pier at first. Later, when you’re stronger, you can go sailing or take the fishing boat out onto the lake.”

“Don’t you have tenants at the lodge?”

“Just one right now, but that’s no problem. It’s a big place. You’ll probably never run into each other. Anyway, you can use my quarters. There’s a private entrance off the side veranda.”

“I still don’t—”

“This isn’t a suggestion, Dolan, it’s an order.”

Matt bristled. “You can’t order me to do anything when I’m not on duty.”

Smiling benignly, the lieutenant crossed his arms over his chest and rocked back on his heels. “Oh, yeah? Don’t forget, you need my permission to even take the reentry physical. You spend the summer getting well at the lodge or you can forget about working the streets again. Got that, Dolan?”

“You’d do it, too, wouldn’t you?” Matt snarled. “You’d refuse to let me take the physical for street duty and stick me behind a desk.”

John shrugged and spread his hands wide. “Hey. It’s up to you, Dolan. All you have to do is recuperate and get back in shape up at Lake Livingston.”

“That’s blackmail.”

“Maybe,” John agreed with a shrug. “But I don’t see it that way. I’m just trying to help one of my men get back on his feet.”

“Listen to him, Matt,” Hank urged. “You gotta recuperate somewhere, and shoot, any way you look at it, that’s not bad duty. A carefree summer at a lake in a comfortable fishing lodge. If I thought Patty would allow it, I’d almost be tempted to go out and get myself shot if it meant a summer at the lake.” He paused and gave his partner a lopsided grin. “So whaddaya say?”

A muscle worked in Matt’s jaw as his gaze slid back and forth between his two friends. Hank’s expression was coaxing. John’s, though pleasant, was adamant, and unyielding as granite.

“Excuse me. Am I interrupting something?”

The heads of the other two men snapped around, but Matt merely gritted his teeth. He know that drawling voice with its underlay of laughter only too well. Turning his head slowly on the pillow, he stabbed the new arrival with a hard stare.

The man stood in the doorway, one shoulder propped against the frame, an amused smile on his roguishly handsome face. Everything about him—his loose stance, the careless panache of his attire, the smooth nonchalance—made him appear friendly and harmless, but Matt knew that beneath that laid-back charm was a sharp mind and a pitbull determination when he smelled a story.

Their gazes locked, one pair of vivid blue eyes narrowed and hard, with no trace of welcome, the other pair twinkling with curiosity and mischief and humor. Neither wavered.

“Who let you in here?” John snarled, putting an end to the silent battle. “I specifically told the staff that Matt’s room was off-limits to reporters.”

“C’mon, Lieutenant. Can’t a guy drop by to see an old friend?”

“Just because we’ve known each other for a few years doesn’t make us friends, Conway,” Matt growled.

“All right, then, a close acquaintance. And it’s been more than a few years. More like ten or eleven.”

“Whatever. I still don’t want you here. I have nothing to say to the press.”

“You heard the man.”

J. T. Conway straightened away from the doorjamb and stepped into the room, ignoring Hank’s warning. “Look, I just want to do a small piece on your recovery. The public want to know how their local hero is doing.”

“Yeah, right. We both know that if that was all you wanted, your paper would’ve sent a cub reporter, not their ace.”

A rueful grin hiked up one corner of J.T.’s mouth. “Okay, maybe I was hoping to get a quote or two about the raid. Word is, the dealer was tipped off. That someone in the department is on the take. How does it feel to know that you nearly bought the farm because one of your own is dirty?”

Matt’s eyes narrowed. “Get out.”

“Look, Matt, I know—”

“All right, that’s it. You’re outta here,” Hank growled. Both he and John took a menacing step toward the reporter.

“Whoa now. Look, guys, I’m just doing my job. The readers have a right to know—”

“How about I show you how it feels to eat teeth? How about that for a story? Your readers ought to love that.”

J.T. looked from one determined face to the other, weighing his chances. He was a big man, matching Matt’s six foot one and broad-shouldered build, but he knew when to back off. Raising both hands, palms out, he retreated. “Okay, okay. I’m going.” His blue eyes darted to Matt and he winked. “You get well, buddy.”

“Boy, the nerve of that guy,” Hank muttered after J.T. left.

The lieutenant, with his usual tenacity, turned his attention back to Matt. “If you go home to that town house of yours, you can expect more of that sort of thing. And there won’t be anyone there to run interference. If you go to the lake, you’ll have privacy. No one but Hank and me and a few others will even know you’re there.”

“Jeez! Don’t you ever give up?” Matt groaned. “Oh, all right! I’ll go to your damned fishing lodge.”

John beamed. “Good, good.” He rubbed his palms together. “I’ll make the arrangements. Hank will go by your place and pack your clothes, then be here tomorrow at checkout time to drive you up to the lake.”

“I’m thrilled,” Matt drawled.

“We’ll get out of here now and let you rest,” John returned, ignoring the sarcastic comment. “C’mon, Hank.”

Out in the hallway Hank fell into step with the lieutenant. When they were out of earshot of the room, he cleared his throat and asked, “Uh, does Matt know who your tenant at the lodge is?”

“Nope. We made our deal after he was shot.”

“That’s what I thought. Are you sure you know what you’re doing boss?”

They reached the bank of elevators and John punched the down button. The doors of the waiting elevator opened and the two men stepped inside.

“Absolutely. I’ve given this a lot of thought,” John replied, punching the button for the lobby. “Matt’s like an injured animal right now, snapping and snarling at everyone and trying his best to curl up in the dark alone and lick his wounds. Well, I’ll be damned if I let him.”

The lieutenant leaned back against the elevator wall and shot his detective a self-satisfied look. “Tender loving care and nurturing—that’s the best medicine for what ails him. In other words, what Matt needs most right now is a good dose of Maude Ann.”

Chapter Two

Matt felt every pothole and bump as the car bounced along the dirt road through the woods. Clutching the armrest, he gritted his teeth against the pain and tried to maintain a stoic expression, but a hard jar made him groan. “Ahhh…damn, doesn’t the lieutenant ever grade this excuse for a road?”

“Sorry.” Hank slanted him a sheepish look. “I’m going as slow as I can. Hang on. The lodge is just around the next bend.”

“Yeah, I know.” Matt had been to the lodge with John several times to fish.

He looked around at the thick woods on either side of the road. Through the trees on the right he caught an occasional glimpse of the lake, but there were no houses or people in sight. That was the main reason he had agreed to come here. The lodge was about two miles down the gravel road from the highway and the only structure on this finger of land, so he would have plenty of privacy.

John had inherited the lodge and all the land between it and the highway from an uncle. At present he was merely renting out a few boats, and occasionally a tenant occupied the building. When John retired, his plan was to reopen the place as a fishing lodge and run it himself.

“You know, I really do envy you, getting to spend the summer here,” Hank said as he brought the car to a stop in the circular drive in front of the lodge. “This is a real nice place, in a rustic sort of way.”

The large, two-story building sat in a clearing about a hundred yards from the lakeshore. Made of rough cedar, it had a covered veranda that ran all the way around, with porch swings and groupings of wicker furniture at intervals so that the fishermen who came here could sit and enjoy the view. John’s uncle had built the lodge to cater to people who preferred a quiet place where they could go fishing and boating, and just relax and enjoy good family-style meals and the peace and quiet of the country.

In addition to John’s quarters, the place had a huge living room, kitchen and dining room on the first floor and eight bedrooms and six bathrooms on the second floor.

“It’s easy to see why the lieutenant is so proud of it,” Hank continued. “You’re gonna be real comfortable here.”

Matt doubted that. These days he wasn’t comfortable anywhere. His wounds still throbbed and ached, and every step he made was pure agony, causing the mutilated muscles and tendons in his thigh to scream in protest.

With assistance from Hank and leaning heavily on a cane, Matt climbed the veranda steps. However, when he reached the top he was so wobbly he had to sit down in the first swing he reached, while Hank unloaded his bags from the car and carried them to his room. In no time his partner reappeared. “There’s something that smells delicious cooking in two big pots in the kitchen, but other than that there’s no sign of John’s tenant.”

“Good. I hope it stays that way.”

Hank looked away and shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. “Yeah, well, I guess I’d better be heading back so you can unpack and get settled. Is there anything else you need before I go?”

“Don’t think so.” Matt knew his partner was worried about leaving him alone, but the truth was, that was exactly what he wanted. He was in no mood for socializing, not even with his best friend. “Look, don’t worry about me, okay. I’ll be fine.”

“Well…if you’re sure. And remember, if you need anything—anything at all—you just give me a call.”

As his partner drove away, Matt looked around. In addition to being a fisherman and guide, John’s uncle had been an avid gardener. Though isolated on wooded lake-shore, the lodge was surrounded by a neat lawn and a bed of roses, and other flowers Matt couldn’t name bordered the porch all around. From previous visits, Matt knew that there was also a vegetable garden out back, plus a large garage and storage shed.

Along one side and across the back, the forest came right up to the yard but a small, open meadow separated the lawn from the woods on the west side. At the front of the lodge the lawn went all the way down to the lake. The boat dock and fishing pier was a quarter mile or so farther along the shore, out of sight of the lodge and reached by a path through the woods.

It was a great place, and under other circumstances, Matt would have enjoyed being here to soak up the sunshine and nature, but now he resented being forced to stay when all he wanted was to go home and shut out the world.

The lieutenant had been right about one thing, Matt thought, looking around at the peaceful scene. He certainly shouldn’t have any trouble with nosy reporters out here in the boonies.

The sound of voices drew Matt’s attention to the woods along the east side of the yard just as a woman and a gang of children emerged. Annoyance firmed his mouth as they headed across the lawn toward the lodge. Great. Just what he needed.

They were either lost or trespassing, since all the land between there and the highway belonged to John Werner. Either way, Matt intended to send them packing.

The children were of different ages and, from what he could tell from that distance, different ethnic backgrounds. Dressed in shorts, T-shirts and dirty tennis shoes, they were sweaty, grubby and bedraggled. Oddly, each child carried a pan or bucket.

It was the woman, however, who drew his attention. She also wore shorts and a T-shirt, but on her, the common garments were unbelievably sexy, showing off full breasts, long legs and a curvy figure that made a man’s mouth go dry. Her auburn hair, a wild mane of curls that billowed around her face and shoulders, glinted red in the sunlight. It was that slow, hip-rolling walk, though, that distracted him most. Just watching her approach, he felt a surge of heat in his loins. It was the first time he’d experienced that particular reaction since he’d been shot, and it both pleased and annoyed him.

Putting as much weight as he could on his cane, Matt struggled to his feet. As the group drew nearer and he was about to launch into a blistering lecture about intruding on private property, the woman waved to him and called out, “Hi, there! I’m sorry we weren’t here when you arrived.”

Matt stiffened, his eyes narrowing as an uneasy feeling crept up his spine. There was something vaguely familiar about the woman, but she wasn’t the kind of female any red-blooded male was likely to forget.

“Hey, mister! Lookit what we gots,” a little blond cherub with a dirty face exclaimed.

Before he could stop them, the pack of children clambered noisily up the porch steps and the woman followed. The little blond cherub held up her bucket for him to admire, but the rest of the kids just eyed him with suspicion, as though he was the one who shouldn’t be there.

“All right, kids, take your blackberries inside and rinse them in the colander with cold water. Debbie, sweetheart, don’t bother the man.” She shot him a grin. “Sorry about that. She’s just proud of picking so many berries.”

Before he could reply, the woman turned back to the kids and clapped her hands. “Okay, introductions will come later. Everybody inside. Marshall, you and Yolanda see to the younger ones. And Tyrone, you and Dennis knock off that shoving.”

Matt stared at her, his uneasiness growing.

She turned back to Matt and cocked one auburn eyebrow. “Detective Dolan? You haven’t said a word. Is something wrong?”

“I know you from somewhere, don’t I?”

The woman tossed back her head and laughed, and instantly he knew who she was. No man could ever forget that low, husky sound.

“Goodness. I know it’s been a couple of years, but surely I haven’t changed that much.”

Matt’s eyes narrowed. “You’re Maude Ann Henley, Tom Henley’s widow. You’re that shrink who used to work for the department.”

And she had changed all right. The woman he remembered had been reserved and perfectly groomed at all times, her makeup flawless. She’d dressed in tailored suits, wore her hair pulled severely back in a chignon and exuded an air of cool professionalism. Now she stood before him in ragged cutoffs, a form-fitting T-shirt, her hair a cloud of unruly curls, and apparently not wearing a speck of makeup. There was even a splattering of freckles across her nose, for Pete’s sake.

“Yes. Although, my name is actually Edwards. Dr. Maude Ann Edwards to be exact. I kept my maiden name for professional reasons. And just so you know, Detective, I prefer the term psychiatrist to shrink.”

“Just what the hell are you doing here, Dr. Edwards?”

She looked taken aback, whether by the question or his curt tone he neither knew nor cared. He just wanted an answer. Then he wanted her gone. He had avoided her when she worked at the precinct. He sure as hell didn’t want her around now.

“Why, I live here. Didn’t Lieutenant Werner tell you?”

“You live here? No, he didn’t tell me,” Matt ground out through clenched teeth. “Somehow he neglected to mention that particular piece of information. He just told me he had one tenant. I assumed it was a summer fisherman. That son of a—”

“Detective Dolan, please. I must ask that you refrain from cursing in front of the children.” Noticing that the kids hadn’t moved, she shooed them toward the door. “Go on in and wash those berries like I told you. Jane will be back from the store soon. If the berries aren’t ready, she won’t be able to make that cobbler you want for dessert. So get. All of you.”

The departure of the younger children sounded like a herd of wild mustangs clattering across the wooden porch. Amid shouts and squeals and a round of pushing and shoving to see who could be first, and the repeated squeak and bang of the front door, they disappeared into the lodge. A few of the older children, however, were reluctant to leave, They dragged their feet, looking balefully at Matt as they shuffled inside.

When the last straggler disappeared through the door, Maude Ann turned her attention back to Matt.

“Actually, to be fair, Lieutenant Werner didn’t lie to you, Detective. I am the only tenant at the lodge.”

“Why are you here?” She opened her mouth to reply, but he held up his hand and stopped her. “No, don’t bother. It’s obvious. Well, you can tell the lieutenant that I don’t need anyone to play nursemaid, and I sure as hell don’t need a shrink. So this little scheme of his was a waste of time.”

Laughter twinkled in Maude Ann’s whiskey-colored eyes. “My, my, what an ego you have, Dolan. Funny, I worked with you for two years and I never realized that. It so happens that my being here has nothing whatever to do with you. I leased the lodge from the lieutenant to house the foster home I established for abused and neglected children who have been taken away from their parents or guardians. I call it Henley Haven, in honor of my late husband.”

“A foster home? You mean, that mob of kids lives here?”

“Yes. And they’re hardly a mob. There are only seven children here at the moment. Henley Haven can accommodate ten easily. A dozen in an emergency. But whatever the number, the children keep me much too busy to have time to spend on you. Actually, it should relieve your mind to know that I no longer see patients. I prefer to use my training and experience helping these children adjust and heal, so you needn’t worry that I’ll be analyzing you.”

“You’re not going to get the chance, lady.”

“Good. I’m glad that’s settled. When the lieutenant called he merely asked if I would mind if you stayed in his quarters while you recuperated and drive you into Houston for your checkups. I go into Houston regularly anyway, and since he’s giving me a good deal on this place, I couldn’t very well refuse. Besides, his room isn’t part of my lease agreement. That’s always kept ready for him when he visits, so you’re not putting anyone out.

“I did agree that you could eat with us. Jane and I must cook for the children, anyway, so even that isn’t an imposition. I assure you, meals, housekeeping and an occasional ride into town are all the help you’ll receive from me.”

“I won’t be needing those, either,” he snapped. “Dammit, I only agreed to come out here to soak up some sunshine and peace and quiet. Instead, what do I find? A lady shrink and a bunch of rug rats.”

“Hey, pig, who you calling a rat?”

“Tyrone!” Maude Ann admonished as a small black boy charged out onto the porch.

The door banged shut as he stepped between Matt and Maude Ann. Assuming a challenging stance that was comical in a youngster, he glared at Matt and thrust out his chin.

Surprise shot through Matt. He recognized the kid instantly. Tyrone Washington was the child of a female junkie from the section of Houston known as Denver Harbor.

Only seven, the kid was already headed for trouble. Most of the time his mother was stoned out of her mind, and Tyrone ran virtually wild through the slum neighborhood. The kid had a mouth on him like a longshoreman’s and an eye for larceny. Tyrone might be only seven, but in the ways of the world he was about forty-five.

Matt looked the kid up and down and returned his glare with a cynical half smile. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Tyrone Washington. The Denver Harbor tough guy.”

“That’s right, pig, an’ there ain’t nothin’ you kin do ’bout it, so kiss my a—”

“Tyrone!” Maude Ann admonished again. “You’re to watch your language, young man. Furthermore, you are not to call Detective Dolan by that derogatory name. Do you understand?”

The boy looked back at her over his shoulder. “Daroga what? Whazzat mean?”

“Derogatory. It means insulting and degrading. You’re new, but you’ve been here long enough to know that we don’t treat people that way.”

A perplexed frown wrinkled Tyrone’s forehead. “Not even stinkin’ cops?”

“No. Especially not cops. Remember I told you my husband was a policeman and a wonderful man. Now apologize.”

Tyrone’s face turned mulish. “I ain’t gonna ’pologize to no—”

“Tyrone, either apologize or you stay here with Jane tomorrow while the rest of us go to the movies. The choice is yours.”

“Ah, Miz Maudie—”

“You heard me, Tyrone.”

“Look, can we drop this?” Matt snapped. “I don’t care if the little punk apologizes or not.”

“Mr. Dolan! I said no name calling. The rules I’ve given the children apply to everyone who stays here.”

“Then we don’t have a problem, because I’m not staying.”

“That is entirely up to you, Detective,” she replied with a pleasant smile. “I have no feelings on the matter one way or another, I assure you.”

“Fine, then you won’t mind if I call the lieutenant and tell him to send someone to pick me up, will you,” he snapped back.

“Not at all. There’s a telephone in your room.”

Matt gave her a curt nod. Leaning on his cane, he gritted his teeth and turned to leave.

“Humph. Good riddance,” Tyrone muttered, but this time Maude Ann was too distracted to correct him.

She bit her lower lip and watched Matt Dolan limp away. She recalled how he used to look, striding around the station house, often without his suit jacket and his shirtsleeves rolled up. A big man with broad shoulders, a lean muscular build and a self-confident demeanor, he had emitted an aura of masculine invincibility and strength.

His back was still ramrod straight and his head high, but he had lost weight during his stay in the hospital, and his progress was so slow and so obviously painful it wrung her heart. It was all she could do not to rush forward and help him.

The only thing that stopped her was the certain knowledge that he would rebuff the offer, probably none too politely. That, and the promise she had made to herself.

When John Werner had contacted her and asked if Matt Dolan could stay at the lodge for a few months, she had vowed she would give the man his space and not let herself become involved in his recovery in any way. She had enough on her hands with the children. Nor did she need or want to be drawn back into the world of law enforcement and the dark psychological and physical trauma that came with it.

She had left all that behind two years ago when her husband Tom had been killed during a bank holdup. Her life now was devoted to the children.

Self-deception had never been one of Maude Ann’s shortcomings, and she had to admit there was another reason for steering clear of Matt. She didn’t ever want to take a chance of falling for another law-enforcement officer.

Not that the risk of that happening was great. During the three years that she had worked for the HPD, Matt had been polite but distant. Maude Ann couldn’t recall ever having had a personal conversation with the man, nor had he ever consulted her about any of his cases unless a superior had ordered him to.

He wasn’t anything like Tom, not at all her type, and given their history, there was little danger of an attraction developing between them.

Still, Maude Ann wasn’t stupid. Matt Dolan was a handsome devil, in a tough-as-nails kind of way. With his black-as-coal hair and vivid blue eyes, those chiseled features and his general “go to hell” attitude, he stirred something deep in the female psyche that even the most intelligent of women would have a difficult time resisting.

Yes, it was definitely best, all around, if she gave Detective Dolan a wide berth.

Chapter Three

Matt sat on the edge of the bed with the receiver to his ear, impatiently counting the rings on the other end of the line.

“Lieutenant Werner.”

“You sorry, sneaky, scheming, back-stabbing bastard. You set me up.”

“Ah, good afternoon to you, too, Matt. I take it you’ve met Maudie and her charges.”

Matt ground his teeth and tightened his grip on the receiver. John didn’t even try to hide the amusement in his voice. Matt could almost see him leaning back in his chair, grinning like a jackass eating briars. “At least you have the good sense not to pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about,” he snarled.

“Not much point in that, is there. So how is Maudie?”

“Maudie is fine. I’m mad as hell. I swear, Werner, if I was there right now, I’d knock your teeth out.”

“C’mon, Dolan, in your condition you couldn’t whip a flea, and you know it. Of course, you’re welcome to try, but if I were you I’d wait until I recovered.”

“Funny. Real funny. Did you really think I’d go along with this? I refused to see a shrink at the hospital, so you figured you’d maroon me in the boonies with one. Maude Ann Edwards, for Pete’s sake! I steered clear of the woman when she worked for the department. Why the devil would I want to spend time with her now? Radio Hank right away and tell him to turn around and come get me. I’m outta here.”

“No way, Dolan. We have a deal and you’re sticking to it. Look, don’t go jumping to conclusions. Maudie doesn’t take patients anymore. But she is a doctor. I figured if you needed medical attention, she would be handy to have around. That’s all. She’s too busy with her kids to bother with the likes of you, boyo, so just relax, will ya?”

“Forget it. I’m not staying here with that woman and all those kids. You got that? Send Hank back for me. Now.”

“No can do, buddy. Tell Maudie hi for me and call me at the end of the summer. We’ll talk then about you coming back for that physical.”

“Wait a minute! Don’t you—”

A click sounded and the dial tone droned. Matt jerked the receiver away from his ear and glared at it, then slammed the instrument down so hard it jumped off the base and he had to hang it up again.

With a frustrated growl he flung himself back on the bed and turned the air blue with curses. He didn’t give a rat’s nose if Dr. Maude Ann Edwards heard him. In fact, he hoped she did. Maybe she’d give him the boot.

“The children will be down in a minute,” Maude Ann announced as she returned to the kitchen. “I left Yolanda supervising their hand-washing.”

“Humph, somebody has to,” Jane said. That scamp Dennis acts like soap and water are poison. So does Tyrone.”

Maude Ann’s throaty laugh rolled out. “I know. Dennis just tried to convince me his hands weren’t dirty because he’d kept them in his pockets all day.”

Jane rolled her eyes. “What those two don’t think of the devil hasn’t invented yet.” Standing in front of the big, six-burner commercial stove, she stirred a pot of gravy. “If that policeman fella is going to join us for dinner he’d better shake a leg, ’cause it’s almost ready.”

Maude Ann removed an enormous pan of biscuits from the oven. Steam rose from them filling the kitchen with a delicious aroma. She glanced at the door that connected Matt’s room to the kitchen. “He hasn’t so much as stuck his head out of there, has he?”

“Nope. I got back three hours ago and I haven’t seen hide nor hair of the man. Haven’t heard a sound outta him, either. You sure he’s in there? Maybe he decided to walk up to the highway and hitch a ride back to Houston.”

“Not likely. In his condition he wouldn’t make it a hundred yards.” Maude Ann chewed on her lower lip. “I suppose I should knock on his door and let him know it’s dinnertime.”

“Humph,” Jane poured the gravy into a gravy boat and set it on the table with a decisive thud. “I’d let him stew in his own juice, if it was me. Never could abide a foul-tempered man.”

“Detective Dolan isn’t foul-tempered, exactly. He’s just…well, intense is the word, I guess.” Maude Ann pulled two crocks of butter from the refrigerator and placed one at each end of the table. Unable to resist, she picked off a chunk of hot biscuit and popped it into her mouth, and immediately closed her eyes in ecstasy. “Mmm, heaven. Jane, you really are going to have to teach me how to make biscuits like these.”

“I’m willing. The problem is you never have a spare minute.”

Maude Ann sighed. “True.” She glanced at the closed bedroom door again and resigned herself. “Well, I guess I’ll have to call him. I can’t let him skip dinner. In his condition he needs all the nourishment he can get.”

“Suit yourself. While you roust him out, I’m going to go see what’s keeping those young’uns. It’s too quiet up there by far.”

Jane marched out of the kitchen with a militant step and headed for the stairs.

Wiping her hands on the towel slung over her shoulder, Maude Ann went to the door and tapped on it lightly. “Detective? Dinner is ready.”

She waited a few seconds, but there was only silence on the other side of the door. “Detective Dolan?” she called again.

She hesitated, then turned the knob, eased the door open and stuck her head inside. “Detective Dolan, are you in here?”

The sun had almost set and the light coming through the windows was rosy and dim. At first Maude Ann thought the room was empty, but as she crept inside she saw him through the gloaming, lying back motionless across the bed, his arms flung over his head.

Her heart leapt with fear and guilt. Dear Lord, was he dead? If so, it was her fault. How could she have let him stay in here by himself for so long without bothering to check on him? The man had just gotten out of the hospital a few hours ago.

Holding her breath, she moved closer to the bed. When she finally stood over him and spotted the steady rise and fall of his chest, she closed her eyes. Thank God. He had only fallen asleep.

She opened her eyes and stepped even closer, intending to nudge him, but she hesitated. Tipping her head to one side, she took shameless advantage of his unguarded state to study him.

As her gaze ran over his face, her own softened and her tender heart contracted. He looked so exhausted, so pale. So defenseless. How sad it was, she thought, for this proud, strong man to be reduced to a state of near helplessness.

He had incredibly long eyelashes for a man, she noticed for the first time. They lay like feathery black fans against his skin. Beneath their sweep, bruiselike shadows formed dark circles under his eyes.

Her eyes trailed down his body and her concern deepened. Though a big man, Matt had always kept himself trim, but now he looked much too thin.

Never in a million years would she have thought to see Matt Dolan brought down to such a state. How very close he’d come to losing his life, Maude Ann thought. As her darling Tom had two years ago.

Through Matt’s light blue shirt she could see the faint outline of a bandage on his right side and the bulge of another one beneath the denim covering his right thigh.

They were sure to need changing regularly, yet she knew that any offer to help him would meet with a curt refusal.

Suddenly Maude Ann realized that Matt must have fallen into a deep sleep, no doubt involuntarily, soon after making his telephone call. His sneakered feet were still flat on the floor and around his body the cream-colored chenille bedspread was undisturbed.

Compassion softened her face. Poor man. The trip from Houston must have exhausted him. Apparently he hadn’t moved so much as a muscle in more than three hours.

She hated to disturb him. Still, to regain his strength he needed nourishment. Bending over, she reached out to touch his shoulder, but she drew her hand back when he jerked and mumbled something in his sleep. From the way he was thrashing around on the bed, he appeared to be having a nightmare.

“Detective? Detective Dolan, wake up.”

His hand shot up like a striking snake and clamped around her wrist, and Maude Ann let out a shriek as she was jerked down on top of him.

The sound cut off almost before it started as his other hand clamped over her mouth.

Matt’s head came up off the mattress, and Maude Ann’s eyes widened above his fingers as she found herself looking into his dark, furious face, just inches from the end of her nose.

His wounds may have weakened him, but there was still a surprising amount of strength left in those powerful arms and shoulders.

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing, sneaking around in my room?”

She tried to answer, but her words came out in an indecipherable mumble against his palm. She gave up and glared at him, and he finally got the message and removed his hand.

Maude Ann shook back her hair and tried for a haughty look, which was difficult to achieve when one was sprawled, half-dressed, on top of a man. “I was not sneaking around in your room,” she informed him. “I came in to tell you that dinner is ready.”

“Yeah, right. Have you ever heard of knocking?”

“I did knock. Several times. But you didn’t answer. I was worried that something had happened to you, so I came inside to check. You seemed to have been having a bad dream.”

Those deep-set blue eyes narrowed as he searched her face for the truth. In the rosy glow of sunset they glittered like sapphires in his dark face. After a time he seemed to come to a decision and gave an almost imperceptible nod.

“I’m fine, as you can see.” He paused, his eyes locked with hers. Suddenly the air seemed thick, and an odd tautness surrounded them. “And feel,” he added.

Maude Ann’s eyes widened. Horrified, she realized several things at once. First, that he still gripped her right forearm in an unbreakable hold, and his other hand was splayed across her bottom. Second, not only was she sprawled on top of him, her bare right thigh was nestled intimately between his legs, and his body had responded to the contact. He might have been weakened by the gunshot wounds, but there was certainly nothing wrong with his sex drive.

Heat raced through Maude Ann like a warm flood, and to her dismay, she felt her own body tighten. Even in the dim light, she could see that Matt was aware of her reaction.

Color flooded her face. She told herself to get up, but she seemed to have lost the power of movement. She could feel his heat all along her body, his breath feathering her face, warm and moist, that masculine hand kneading her buttocks ever so slightly.

Her own breathing was shallow and drew painfully through her constricted throat. With every labored breath her breasts swelled against the solid wall of his chest.

Had her life depended on it, Maude Ann could not have looked away from his hot stare. Just when she thought she would surely burst into flames, Matt broke eye contact. She experienced a momentary relief, but when his gaze slid downward over her face and zeroed in on her mouth, her heart took off at a gallop.

He stared at her lips for what seemed like forever. His eyes darkened. Maude Ann swallowed hard. Slowly, Matt tipped his head to one side and raised it closer to hers, and her heart began to boom.

Her eyes drifted shut. She felt his breath caressing her mouth and her entire body tingled with anticipation. Before contact could be made the sound of clattering feet and high-pitched chatter announced the arrival of the children in the kitchen.

Aghast, Maude Ann jerked back and tried to scramble off Matt, but at the first move he groaned. She froze.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Your wound! Did I hurt you?”

A grimace contorted his face. “I’m…okay,” he ground out through gritted teeth. “Just…take it…slow and easy.”

“Yes. Of course. I should have realized—”

“Ah, jeez! Watch that knee, will you?”

A fresh wave of color climbed Maude Ann’s face, but she bit her lower lip and eased up off him. She was acutely conscious of the open door and the children taking their places at the table in the next room, of Jane issuing orders. She prayed that no one looked this way, or if they did, that they couldn’t see anything in the fading light.

With excruciating slowness, she got to her knees beside him on the mattress, then backed off the bed and regained her feet. She smoothed her hair away from her face and brushed at her shorts, more out of nervousness than need.

Then she noticed that Matt still lay flat on his back with his eyes closed and his face contorted.

“Are you all right? Do you need help getting up?” She stepped closer and held out her hand, but he opened his eyes and gave her a baleful look.

“No, I don’t need your help,” he growled. “I’m not so pathetic that I can’t get up off the damned bed by myself.” He grabbed hold of the brass railing at the foot of the bed and tried to haul himself up, but his face clenched with pain and he couldn’t hold back a groan.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Her patience at an end, Maude Ann bent over and slipped her arms around his chest and tugged him upward. “You men and your stubborn pride! It doesn’t make you any less of a man to need a little help now and then, you know,” she admonished as she gently assisted him to his feet.

“I don’t like to be a burden,” he gasped when he could catch his breath.

“No one does, but sometimes it can’t be helped. Although, I must say, that was foolish of you to jerk me down like that. You could have reopened your wounds.”

His gaze met hers. “If those kids hadn’t arrived when they did, I probably would have.”

Maude Ann felt a blush heat her cheeks again. She hoped it wasn’t visible in the dimness, but even if it was, she wasn’t one to back away from a challenge. Tossing her head, she gave a throaty chuckle. “In your dreams, Detective. At this point you haven’t got the strength for an amorous encounter. But since you brought it up, let me make this much clear. You are welcome to stay here and recuperate for as long as it takes, but I am not part of your physical therapy. Now, if you don’t mind, dinner is ready, and Jane and the children are waiting.”

She turned to leave the room, but he grasped her forearm and stopped her. “Just a minute, Dr. Edwards. I woke up and found someone hovering over me. Grabbing you was a perfectly natural reflex reaction.” He paused a beat, then added, “Just as what happened after that was a natural reaction when a man finds a woman lying on top of him. I don’t apologize for that.”

Pursing her lips, Maude Ann considered that. After a moment she nodded. “All right. I can accept that.”

“Good. And just to set the record straight, I wasn’t the only one on that bed who was aroused.”

Never one to play games or prevaricate, Maude Ann gave him a rueful half smile and a nod. “Fair enough. So why don’t we just chalk up what happened as a freak occurrence? Propinquity, if you will. Despite your wounds, you’re still a red-blooded male, and there hasn’t been a man in my life since Tom died.”

A startled look flashed in his eyes, but she ignored it. “Add to that combination a dimly lit room, a bed and close contact, and naturally one thing leads to another. We know it didn’t mean anything, so let’s just forget it happened, shall we?”

Pulling her arm free of his grasp, she smiled cordially and tipped her head toward the kitchen. “Now we really had better get out there before Jane comes looking for us.”

Without waiting for a reply, Maude Ann turned and strolled out, aware of Matt’s gaze drilling into her back.

She had already taken her seat at the head of the table when Matt emerged from his room.

Instantly the childish chatter around the table ceased and a tense silence descended. Seven pairs of wary young eyes watched Matt’s slow progress as he leaned heavily on his cane and limped to the table.

When he was seated, Maude Ann, acting as though Matt’s presence was nothing out of the ordinary, smiled at her charges and said, “Children, this is Detective Matthew Dolan. He works for the Houston Police Department and he’s going to be staying with us while he recovers from an injury.”

“You mean he gots an ouchie like me?” the tiny blond girl asked. She raised her arm and proudly displayed a wide Band-Aid on her elbow.

“Yes, Debbie. Only Detective Dolan’s ouchies are really bad ones, so he’s going to be staying with us until they get all better.”

The child turned big, pansy-blue eyes on Matt. “You needs to put a Band-Aid on ’em. I can show you where they are. Miz Maudie has all kinds of pretty ones. Some even gots flowers and fairies on ’em.”

Despite his foul mood, a smile tugged at Matt’s mouth. He resented being stuck here. He especially resented being here with a shrink and a pack of kids. However, he would have had to have a heart of iron to resist those innocent blue eyes and that face like an angel.

“Dumb girl,” Tyrone muttered. “He ain’t got that kinda ouchie. He’s prob’ly been shot.”

Gasps and frightened exclamations erupted around the table.

“That’s quite enough, Tyrone. You’re scaring the other children.”

“Yes’um, Miz Maudie,” he replied in a meek voice, ducking his head. Under his breath he added just loud enough for Matt to hear, “Fool shoulda got his head blown clean off, messing with them guys. I sure wouldn’t’a cried none if he had. Be one less pig on the streets.”

The boy cut his gaze toward Matt and stuck out his chin. Matt met the boy’s surly gaze steadily.

“What was that, Tyrone?”

He turned his head and looked at Maude Ann with an expression of wide-eyed innocence. “Nothin’, Ms. Edwards. I was just sayin’ how lucky he was.”

“Hmm.” The glint in Maude Ann’s eyes said that she did not believe him, but she let the matter slide.

“My mommy got shot,” the girl of about six or seven sitting next to Maude Ann said quietly. She sat staring at her clasped hands resting against the edge of the table. Then she turned her solemn gaze on Matt. “My daddy did it. I saw him. My mommy died.”

Matt didn’t know what to say. The blank expression in the child’s eyes was chilling. Dammit, it wasn’t right that a kid should witness such grotesque violence. “I’m…sorry.”

Maude Ann reached over and laid her hand over the child’s smaller one. “It was a horrible thing, but Jennifer is going to be okay, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

The blank look left the little girl’s eyes, replaced by trust and abject adoration as she met Maude Ann’s reassuring smile. She nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

She wasn’t a pretty child. Not like the little blond cherub, Debbie, Matt thought, but she appeared so fragile and vulnerable just looking at her made your heart contract.

Deftly, Maude Ann diverted everyone’s attention by making introductions, starting with Jane Beasley, the chunky, middle-aged woman who was her assistant, and working her way around the table.

In addition to Tyrone, Debbie and Jennifer, there was ten-year-old Marshall, his eight-year-old brother, Dennis, an eleven-year-old Mexican girl named Yolanda and five-year-old Timothy.

Matt sat through the introductions in tight-lipped silence, acknowledging the children and Jane Beasley with no more than a curt nod. He had no desire to know any of them. He may be stuck there, but he intended to keep his distance.

When dinner was over, the children cleared the table, then Maude Ann sent them off to brush their teeth, though not without protests.

“Ah, do I gotta, Miz Maudie?” Tyrone groaned.

“Yes. Now shoo. All of you. And don’t think you can pull a fast one on me, either, because I’m going to inspect those teeth when you’re done.”

Muttering under his breath, Tyrone shuffled out, deliberately dragging his feet on the brick kitchen floor and trailing the other children.

Matt sipped his coffee and watched them go. When their footsteps faded away, he switched his gaze to Maude Ann. “If you’re hoping to reform that kid, you’re wasting your time. Take it from me—he’s bad news.”

“Nonsense.” Dismissing his comment, Maude Ann left the table and joined Jane at the sink, where she picked up a towel and began drying dishes.

“Do you know anything about his background?” Matt probed.

“If you mean do I know that his mother is a drug addict who never took care of him, yes.”

“Do you also know that at seven he’s already got a rap sheet? The kid’s been picked up for everything from shoplifting to acting as a lookout for a couple of thugs who robbed a liquor store. Being a minor, there’s nothing we can do to him, and he and his friends know it. Judges won’t even send him to Juvie at his tender age. That’s why the older guys like to use him.”

“So? All that proves is he’s a little boy who’s had a horrible life so far.”

“Lady, Tyrone Washington is a juvenile delinquent in the making. Six months ago I caught him acting as a numbers runner for a gang running a bookmaking operation. I grabbed the kid by the scruff of the neck and hauled him down to the station house myself.”

Maude Ann stopped drying a plate and shot him an accusing glare. “You arrested a seven-year-old boy?”

“I didn’t cuff him and throw him in a cell, if that’s what you mean. I just to tried to scare the kid. Anyway, it didn’t work. A few days later he was running errands for the same gang.”

“All the more reason for removing him from that environment. Tyrone needs love and guidance and structure in his life. He needs to be shown that someone cares and will be there for him, that life doesn’t have to be the squalid existence he’s known.”

Matt shot her a sardonic look. “Watch those rose-colored glasses, Dr. Edwards. They distort your vision.”

“Sounds pretty cynical to me,” Jane said, speaking up for the first time. “What’s the matter, Mr. Dolan—don’t you like kids?”

Matt shrugged. “I like them okay. Actually I haven’t been around children a lot, so I haven’t thought much about it one way or another.”

“Ah, I see,” Jane said as though that explained everything, and turned back to the sinkful of dishes.

“Look, this has nothing to do with me. Those kids are your problem, not mine. I just thought you ought to know Tyrone’s background.”

“Thank you, Detective. However, I assure you, I am apprised of every child’s case history before he or she ever comes here.”

“Fine. Suit yourself. It makes no difference to me.” Matt downed the last of his coffee and struggled to his feet. “It appears I’m stuck here whether I like it or not. You’re probably not any more thrilled than I am, so I just want you to know that, other than mealtimes, I’ll stay out of your way. I’d appreciate the same courtesy in return.”

Gritting his teeth against the vicious stabs of pain, he limped to the doorway that connected his room to the kitchen. There he paused and turned back to look at Maude Ann.

“As for the kid, just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Chapter Four

Matt didn’t come out of his room the rest of the evening, nor did Maude Ann catch so much as a glimpse of him during the next four days, except during meals.

At those times he was distant, speaking only when necessary. He made no effort to join in the mealtime conversations. Inexplicably, little Debbie seemed to find him fascinating, but he barely acknowledged her chatter, and he ignored Tyrone’s muttered digs. Matt simply ate his food as quickly as good manners allowed and left.

Maude Ann told herself that was fine with her. If he did not want to be sociable, then she, Jane and the children would keep their distance.

His physical condition troubled her. He was in a great deal of pain, she could tell, and it did not seem to be lessening, nor was he regaining strength as he should. However, she reminded herself repeatedly that Matthew Dolan was not her responsibility. Besides, Matt made it crystal clear with every word, look and action that he did not want her help.

It wasn’t easy for Maude Ann to remain aloof. Nurturing came as naturally to her as breathing, and no matter how antisocial his behavior or how hard she tried not to, she still worried about him. Whether or not he wanted to accept it, he did need help.

Still, Matt was a proud man, and she knew any offer of help would not be appreciated. Maude Ann promised herself that she would respect his wishes and leave him alone.

Her resolve held only until his fourth night at the lodge.

That evening, after cleaning the kitchen and supervising baths and teeth brushing, Maude Ann, Jane and the pajamaclad children settled down in the huge living room as they did every night. While the younger ones watched an animated movie on television, Maude Ann and the older boys and girls played a board game. Jane sat in a rocking chair by the massive stone fireplace, contentedly crocheting an afghan.

Maude Ann was feeling smug and proud of herself for the self-restraint she had shown. Not only had she resisted the urge to aid Matt in any way, she had behaved as though she wasn’t even aware of his struggles.

However, as had happened every night since he’d been there, while she laughed and talked with the children, she found that she was also keeping one ear cocked for sounds of distress from Matt’s room.

Between chores and play and picking berries in the woods, the children had worn themselves out that day. When all her exhausted charges were settled in for the night, Maude Ann went from room to room for one last peek, pausing in each to gaze at the sleeping children snuggled in their beds, their young faces slack and vulnerable and so heartbreakingly innocent. As she studied them, her chest swelled with emotion.

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.

She was a gregarious woman with a sometimes caustic forthrightness about her. She didn’t believe in formality and had no time for it. Everyone who came within her sphere she treated exactly the same. You could like it or lump it, it made no difference to her.

“I went for a walk in the woods.” He drew a glass of water, chugged it down in three long gulps and filled the glass again.

“Are you sure you’re up to taking walks just yet? You look ready to keel over to me.”

“I’ll be fine. I just need some water is all. I got kind of dehydrated.”

“Mmm, I’m not surprised, in this heat. Next time take a bottle of water with you. Oh, by the way, your shower is fixed. Maude Ann put some adhesive non-skid strips on the shower floor as soon as she got back from town.”

“She told you what happened?”

“Just that you took a fall last night. ’Course, Maudie being Maudie, she fretted about it all night. Took off at first light to buy those strips to remedy the situation. I swear, that woman’s a born mother hen.”

“That’s what she went shopping for so early?”

“Sure. What’d you expect?”

He hadn’t expected anything, really. Certainly not that she would make a special trip into town just for him.

Jane swirled the last dollop of icing on top of the cake with a flourish. Wiping her hands on a towel, she gave Matt another long look. “Why don’t you go out on the veranda and sit in the shade and rest a bit? You look plum peaked. I’m real glad you’re making an effort to recover, but it’s not good to push yourself too hard, you know. Particularly at first.”

“Funny, I don’t recall asking for your opinion,” Matt said in the cold voice he used to keep people at arm’s length.

“Well, you got it, anyway. No charge.” She waved both hands in a shooing motion. “Now go on out there and sit down before you fall down.”

He was tempted to refuse, just because she’d ordered him, but the veranda did look inviting. Besides, he was tired of being cooped up in his room.

“All right, all right. I’m going.”

The first thing Matt saw when he stepped out onto the back veranda was Maude Ann and the children working in the vegetable garden, about thirty feet behind and to one side of the lodge.

He gingerly lowered himself into a swing and settled back against a pillow to observe Maude Ann and her crew of pint-size gardeners.

As he followed her movements, his first thought was the same one he had over and over for the last four days. What the devil was she doing with this motley bunch of kids and only Jane Beasley to help her?

It didn’t make sense. She was an educated woman, a doctor. She could have a successful and lucrative career in Houston. She wasn’t his type, but she was an attractive woman. She was also incredibly sensual and responsive. He had firsthand knowledge of that. So why had she buried herself out here in the middle of nowhere?

Despite the nagging questions, a smile teased Matt’s mouth when he noticed that every one of the kids wore a straw hat. More of Maude Ann’s mothering, no doubt. Probably slathered them all with sun block, as well.

Most of the kids were working diligently. All except Tyrone. He merely leaned on his hoe, looking bored.

All Matt could see of Maude Ann was the top of her straw hat bobbing among the tall stalks of corn. Suddenly two corn stalks parted, and she stuck her head through the opening

“Tyrone, those weeds aren’t going to jump out of the ground, you know. Get busy.”

“I don’t want to hoe no weeds.” He shot her a look, his mouth set in a mulish pout. “I ain’t no farm boy.”

“No, you’re not. But you are a boy who likes to eat. Around here everyone does their part, so either get busy with that hoe or come over here and help me with the corn.”

For a moment Matt thought the boy would refuse, and he sat up straighter in the swing, preparing to lend a hand if the little hoodlum gave her any trouble. Then Tyrone threw down his hoe and stomped over to the corn patch, high-stepping over the rows of plants and muttering under his breath. He was a city boy, he groused. He didn’t belong here.

For the next fifteen minutes or so the seven-year-old miscreant trudged along behind Maude Ann, looking sullen and ready to revolt, while she broke ears of corn off the stalks and dropped them into the basket he carried. By the time she finished, Tyrone’s load had grown so heavy he was gripping the handle of the basket with both hands.

Maude Ann wiped her brow with her forearm and arched her back. “Tyrone, sweetie, take the corn into the house and give it to Jane.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Before she got all the words out he headed off as fast as the heavy basket would allow. “And come straight back!” she called after him.

Watching the boy move away, Maude Ann shook her head, but a smile curved her mouth.

Turning her attention to the other children, Maude Ann moved around the garden checking their progress, assisting some and correcting technique where necessary.

“She’s something, isn’t she?”

Startled, Matt looked up and found Jane standing beside the swing holding a tray containing a pitcher of lemonade and glasses, her gaze fixed on Maude Ann.

Matt turned his attention back to the garden and said nothing, but that didn’t deter Jane.

“That gal’s a natural with children. She’s never met one she didn’t adore. And they love her back, too. Even the problem ones like Tyrone come around after a while. You ask me, it’s a darned shame she and her husband didn’t have any of their own. A woman like that should have a houseful.”

Matt had to agree, but he merely shrugged and said, “There’s time. She’s still a young woman.”

“Huh. Fat lot of good that does. She hasn’t been out on a date with a man since Tom was killed, and she ain’t likely to go anytime soon. Where is she going to meet a man, stuck out here in the country with a passel of young’uns seven days a week, I’d like to know? She never takes a day off, though the good Lord knows, I nag her about it enough.” Jane glanced his way. “I was hoping when you showed up that something might happen between you two, but I can see now that you’re not suited.”

Matt frowned. He agreed, but somehow, hearing it from Jane annoyed him. “Really? What makes you say that?”

“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? She’s a warm, loving woman who adores children. Pardon me for saying so, Detective, but you’re about the coldest, most unfeeling man I’ve yet to meet. You act as though the children don’t exist. Why, that poor little angel, Debbie, chatters away at you all the time, and you ignore her. If there’s an ounce of tenderness or love in you, I’ve yet to see it. No insult intended, but Maudie deserves better.

“Now then, I’d best be getting back to work. Those young’uns are going to be starving when they’re done in that garden. Here’s your lemonade.” She plunked down the tray on the wicker table beside the swing and went back inside.

That was certainly plain talk, Matt thought, frowning after her. Oh, well, he did ask.

Matt turned his attention back to Maude Ann. It was funny—when she’d worked for the department, he would never have pegged her as a nurturer. He had assumed that all psychiatrists were cool, analytical people who stood a little apart from the rest of the world, observing, rather than participating. That was part of the reason he’d steered clear of her. That and the fact that he had always preferred chic blondes with a bit of an edge.

Maude Ann, however, was neither cool and distant nor chic and sophisticated. She was totally natural and unaffected. She was a woman who went around barefoot in cutoff jeans and T-shirts without a speck of makeup. A woman who opened her arms to children with problems. A woman who was compassionate and loving and maternal, a natural born earth mother.

Her husky laugh rang out, and Matt saw her grab Debbie up and swing her around.

He’d seen her do that sort of thing constantly since his arrival. Daily, she gave each child an equal amount of attention and time, listening to their earnest chatter as though it was the most important thing she’d ever heard, laughing with them and giving them smiles and praise. He’d noticed, too, that she constantly touched the children, ruffling their hair, patting their cheeks or their shoulders, giving them hugs and kisses or squeezing their hands.

No doubt, that sort of thing was important to a child’s emotional well-being. The kids certainly seemed to eat it up.

What baffled Matt was, why the devil did those simple actions suddenly seem so damned sexy?

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