Читать книгу Dr. Dad - Julianna Morris, Julianna Morris - Страница 9

Chapter One

The wail of fire engine sirens cut through the calm morning and Starr automatically pulled to one side of the road. Several trucks and police vehicles sped around her, headed for a rising plume of smoke on the hillside.

Alarmed, Starr followed the flashing lights and slammed to a stop outside the perimeter established by the emergency personnel. Heart sinking, she grabbed her notebook and confirmed the address; sure enough, this was the house belonging to her goddaughter’s baby-sitter.

“Blast,” she muttered, jumping out of the car.

“Sony, lady, you’ll have to stay back like everyone else,” said an officer controlling the onlooking crowd.

“But—”

“No special privileges.”

Special privileges?

It was then Starr realized she’d instinctively grabbed her camera, with her press credentials attached to the strap. “That’s not why I’m here. I just want to know if Rebecca Bradley is all right. I’m her godmother.”

The officer hesitated, then turned to one side and pointed. A child stood next to an ambulance, tears rolling down her cheeks. She seemed so little and vulnerable that pain twisted inside of Starr.

No.

Becky had already lost her parents. She’d been through enough. It wasn’t fair to have something else happen to her.

The policeman cleared his throat. “You can go over, but keep out of the way,” he warned.

Starr spared him a single glance before threading her way toward the child. Becky’s mother had been her best friend, though in the two years since Becky had been born, Starr had only seen her three times; her career as a photojournalist kept her out of the country for months on end. Horribly, she hadn’t even known Amelia and Sam were dead until well after the funeral. That had been six months ago and this was the first time she’d been able to get home.

“Don’t cry. Please, don’t cry,” begged the woman standing over Becky. “Don’t worry, it’s all right.”

All right? Starr’s honey brown eyebrows lifted. She walked to the ambulance and crouched till she was at the same height as the child. “Hey, kiddo,” she murmured.

“Dr. Bradley will be furious if you take any pictures,” the other woman insisted. “He doesn’t like reporters.”

Starr sighed and tucked her press badge into a pocket. Noah Bradley was Becky’s uncle and guardian. They’d had a couple of uncomfortable telephone conversations since she’d arrived home, but she’d never met him. “You’re Mrs. Dinsdale, aren’t you? I’m Becky’s godmother. We spoke this morning.”

“Oh...Miss Granger.” The woman’s lined face turned pink. “I’m sorry. It’s nice to meet you.”

Starr gave her a brief smile, then returned her attention to Becky. “What’s wrong?” she asked softly.

For a long moment the youngster gazed at her. “Kitty,” she said at length, pointing to the house. “Get Kitty.” Her voice held an endearing confidence that this newcomer would be able to solve the problem.

“Were you playing with Kitty?”

“They were in the playroom,” the elder woman interjected. She motioned toward a second-story window and Starr looked at it thoughtfully. The fire hadn’t reached that side of the building. In fact, it seemed virtually ignored by the firefighters.

“I—”

“Becky!” A moment later the child was swept into a man’s arms. Compared to his generous height, Becky looked like a dainty china doll.

Starr stood and watched them, a corner of her mind appreciating the stranger’s broad shoulders and clean male scent. He had Becky cuddled against his chest, and his hand stroked her gold hair with a reassuring motion.

“Don’t worry, Dr. Bradley, she isn’t hurt. The medics checked her over...she didn’t inhale any smoke,” the elder woman said quickly.

Starr’s eyes widened. This was Noah Bradley? He was very different than she’d envisioned him, a complete opposite to his easygoing brother. They didn’t even look alike. Sam had been blond and solid; Noah had dark brown hair and a tall, athletic body. He certainly didn’t look like the grumpy, bespectacled doctor she’d envisioned from their brief discussions on the phone.

“Let her speak for herself, Mrs. Dinsdale,” he said quietly. “Are you okay, Becky?”

To Starr’s surprise, Becky pointed at her. “Kitty,” she repeated.

Dr. Bradley gave Starr an assessing look. She couldn’t tell if his impression was good or bad, and it annoyed her to realize she cared. Her life-style and career didn’t lend itself to relationships...as her brief marriage had proven. Getting worked up about a man with warm, intelligent eyes wouldn’t change anything.

“What about a kitty?” he asked.

“I guess it’s in the house,” Starr murmured.

“He’s one of the neighborhood cats,” Mrs. Dinsdale explained. “Becky plays with him all the time. I planned to ask you if she could take it home.”

“Unca Noah, Kitty,” Becky said mournfully.

“Dr. Bradley, is this lady bothering you?” queried the policeman who had talked to her earlier. “She claimed to be your niece’s godmother.”

Noah’s eyes narrowed. He should have recognized Starr immediately—she’d become almost as famous as her photographs. “It’s all right. We’re...getting acquainted.”

The officer nodded and faded away discretely.

“Unca Noah, Kitty!”

The emphatic tone of Becky’s voice demanded his attention, and he looked at her, surprised she would talk so much in front of someone she didn’t really know. Though...a lot of things about Becky surprised him. He’d quickly learned there was a huge difference between doctoring children and raising them. It was frustrating and scary...and wonderful. He’d never planned to have kids, yet Becky had crept into his aching heart. Sam was gone, but his smile and eyes were mirrored in the little girl he’d left behind.

“Let me take a look at you,” he murmured, setting her on the back step of the ambulance.

An exasperated, comically adult expression crossed Becky’s face. “I o’tay. Kitty.”

After a brief hesitation Starr stepped back and headed for the nearest fireman. While Dr. Bradley made sure Becky was really okay, she’d worry about Becky’s beloved kitty.

“Excuse me...?”

The official turned. “Stay back, ma’am.”

She scowled at the dreaded word ma‘am. Thirty-two wasn’t old enough to be called “ma’am.” “Uh...there still might be a cat in the house.”

“We’ve already searched the building.”

“But—”

“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing we can do. If we find the animal, we’ll bring it out.” He motioned her away with his arm.

Biting back a retort, Starr gazed intently at the house. A large, spreading tree grew next to the window that supposedly belonged to the playroom. The branches were old and gnarled, and dipped low on the street side.

A definite possibility.

Starr took a deep breath and slipped around the back of the ambulance. Getting into the tree was ridiculously easy—the firemen were focused on the west side of the house. They certainly didn’t have time to notice a woman climbing into the bed of an old pickup and then chinning herself onto a low limb.

It wasn’t until she was high in the air that Starr realized she still carried her favorite camera around her neck and shoulder. Not that it hindered her; she’d taken her cameras into every type of dangerous situation, until they almost seemed a part of her body. Climbing a tree was nothing compared to dodging bullets in war-torn countries.

Except... Starr grimaced at the lingering soreness in her shoulder. She hadn’t always managed to dodge the bullets. Her last assignment had resulted in a lengthy stay in the hospital.

Oh, well. Starr nudged open the window and peered inside—it looked safe and normal, so she swung feetfirst into the playroom.

“Kitty?” she called, pausing to listen for anything that might be an animal. Of course, she had no idea if the feline was still inside the building—which made her present actions rather foolishly quixotic.

“Kitty, Kitty...?” Starr plowed through a pile of cushions along the wall, calling, then waiting, then calling again. She checked the closet and caught a whiff of smoke drifting down from the attic access.

“Terrific,” she muttered.

Circling the room, she shifted scattered toys and furniture, finally hearing a faint hiss.

“Kitty?”

Dropping to her knees, Starr peered into the shadowed space between the wall and a giant stuffed teddy bear. A pair of amber eyes glimmered from the corner.

“Okay, come here,” she coaxed, reaching toward him.

The feline sent out a lightning set of claws and raked the back of her hand. The attack was accompanied by a low growl, similar to the sound of angry bees. She clenched her jaw and grabbed a second time. This time both hands were slashed, leaving beads of scarlet welling on her skin.

“Wretch,” Starr hissed back at the cat. “I’m leaving, and you’re leaving with me.”

With her third grab Starr grasped the back of “Kitty’s” neck and hauled him out, spitting and struggling.

“Stop that,” she ordered, giving the feline a small shake. She held it up and glared into its almond-shaped eyes. After a long second of primal communication, the animal went limp and she stuffed it inside her jacket. Kitty promptly dug his claws into her body for balance, but Starr was beyond caring.

There was a startled shout as she swung onto the tree branch, and from the corner of her eyes she saw Noah Bradley running across the yard. A faint smile curved her mouth. Dr. Bradley had “establishment” written all over him, but he still made her feel warm and shivery in the pit of her stomach. You could tolerate a lot from a man like that.

“Get the hell down here!”

Noah glared at the woman hanging upside down above him. If the fire and climb didn’t kill her, he’d probably wring her fool neck.

“Ouch,” she shrieked abruptly. “You ungrateful wretch,” she cursed.

Noah blinked. Odd. She didn’t seem to be talking to him, and she didn’t seem to be in immediate danger of falling. Quite the contrary—she inched along the branch with the confident ease of a gymnast, her long hair waving like a golden brown banner in the breeze.

“Damnation,” Walker O’Brien, the Astoria fire chief, growled at Noah’s elbow. “How’d she get up there?” He motioned to one of his men, who trotted toward one of the trucks. “Are you okay, lady? We’re getting a ladder.”

By now she’d reached the center of the tree and she parted a swathe of leaves to look at them. “Don’t bother. I can manage.”

Walker harrumphed. “I should lock you up.”

She leaned out farther and smiled at him winningly. “But you won’t, will you?”

To Noah’s disgust the fire chief chuckled and shook his head. “My God, Starr Granger. When did you get home?”

“A couple of days ago. I’m on vacation. You know, visiting my parents and stuff.”

“And you couldn’t stay out of trouble,” the chief said with a grin.

“That’s—” A muffled growl came from her midsection and she winced. “Ow. Maybe I’ll take that ladder after all. My passenger is using me as a pincushion.”

“Is that where the blood came from?” Walker asked.

Startled, Noah looked up. Sure enough, there were red streaks on Starr’s hands. The front of her jacket squirmed and a furry head poked out above the zipper, squalling in fury.

“I rescued Becky’s cat,” she explained. “But he didn’t appreciate the favor.”

Just then the ladder arrived and Noah grasped it firmly. “I’ll get her,” he said.

Walker grinned and stepped aside. “You’re the doctor.”

“I don’t need anyone’s help,” Starr protested. “Just shove the ladder against the branch and I’ll manage fine.”

Noah climbed up anyway. “Going into that house was crazy,” he snarled.

“I’ve been accused of a lot of things. Crazy is mild compared to some of them.”

“I’ll just bet!”

“Besides, it wasn’t that dangerous,” she asserted. “The fire was clear on the other side of the house.”

At the moment Noah didn’t care if the fire was on the moon. Obviously Starr Granger was a daredevil risk taker. A rebel to common sense. Her vocabulary probably didn’t even include words like caution and yield. “This is an old house,” he said grimly. “It could have gone up like a tinderbox and you’d have been trapped.”

“I took a calculated risk.”

“Noah is right,” Walker O’Brien said from below. “Fires in these old places are unpredictable.”

Starr frowned. “Stay out of this, Walker.”

He shrugged. “Hey, I fight fires. I’d just like to get back to fighting this one...if you don’t mind.”

“Coming, Miss Granger?” Noah held out his hand, trying to control a smug smile.

“I told you, I don’t need any help. Why are you still here, anyway? You should have taken Becky home.”

Noah’s free hand clenched around the ladder. How dare she criticize the way he took care of Becky? A woman who couldn’t even attend her best friend’s wedding or goddaughter’s christening. “One of the firemen fell. I was treating him. Any objections?”

A curious flicker of emotion flashed across her face. “I’m sorry. Is he badly injured?”

“Why do you care? Are you planning to write a story about it, or just take a couple of gory pictures?”

The blue-green of her eyes deepened with indignation. “That isn’t fair. I’m a photojournalist, and a damned good one. I don’t get my kicks out of seeing people hurt.”

The cat hissed at that moment, as though mirroring the fury of the woman who had rescued him.

“Anyway,” she continued, “I didn’t want a story. I just wanted to get Becky’s kitty for her.”

Noah sighed, knowing he’d unconsciously taken his distrust of the news media out on Starr, probably because it was so easy to be angry with her. But that didn’t change the fact she’d risked her life for a cat. A cat! He looked her squarely in the eye. “That animal could have taken care of itself.”

“You’re just mad because you didn’t think of it first.”

He glared.

“Besides,” Starr continued, “the door was closed and the window was shut.... The poor thing was helpless.”

“Helpless?”

Noah grunted. As far as he could tell from her scratches, that poor thing had five effective weapons on each of its paws. Even worse, he suspected the helpless little wretch was about to take up permanent residence in his house; those claws were going to do some serious damage to his leather upholstery. Of course, Becky’s grape juice and peanut butter had already done a job on the furniture...and on everything else.

“Please don’t dawdle,” Walker advised from his position on the ground. “I still have work to do.”

“Coming,” Noah said tersely. He ought to have his head examined for talking to the woman in the first place, much less having a conversation with her on a ladder!

He grasped Starr’s waist as she swung from the tree. Doing so was a mistake. She wiggled indignantly, but the movement only reminded him that she was a woman—soft and nicely rounded in all the right places. Her tight, jeans-clad bottom was intimately aligned with his chest and her hair flew like fragrant silk around his face. He drew a deep breath and caught the scent of honeysuckle on a warm afternoon—except honeysuckle had never smelled that good on a bush.

Stop. Noah groaned. He’d always heard that anger could be stimulating under the right circumstances. Yet he’d never quite believed it until now.

“I’m ready to climb down. You’re in my way,” she said in a muffled voice...squirming to make her point.

Noah gritted his teeth and tried to focus on anything but the sexy slide of her hips against his body. He only partially succeeded. So he thought about the scratches on her hands. They would have to be cleansed and disinfected, then bandaged.

Good, think like a doctor.

But his thoughts were entirely male as he descended with her...one slow rung at a time. Starr kept leaning away from the ladder, trying to protect the cat still snarling loud complaints from her jacket, which meant she came into closer contact with him. When they finally reached the ground, Noah’s jaw ached from being clenched, and the rest of him didn’t feel so great, either.

As they walked toward the ambulance she unbuttoned her jacket and unhooked the angry feline from her shirt. Becky caught sight of the animal and lunged forward.

“Mine.” She held out her arms, and Noah knew his leather furniture was doomed. Kitty had just found a new home.

“Wait a second, kiddo.” Starr knelt beside the child, holding the feline’s paws firmly in her hands.

“Careful, Becky,” Noah warned. “He’s a little upset right now, so be gentle.”

Becky leaned forward and gave Kitty a series of solid pats on his head. “O’tay,” she said. A loud purr rose from the cat and his eyes closed ecstatically.

“Now he purrs?” Starr muttered. “Swell. Why couldn’t he have done that while I was saving his life?”

“Take care of Becky for a moment,” Noah said to Mrs. Dinsdale. “I need to treat Mrs. Granger’s wounds.”

Starr handed the cat to the baby-sitter and followed him to the rear of the ambulance, an enigmatic smile on her generous mouth.

“Let’s take a look,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Uh-uh. I want him to do it.” Starr pointed to the emergency medical technician.

An exasperated sigh rose from Noah’s chest. “I’m a very good doctor.”

“I’m sure you are. But I still want him.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake!”

Noah stepped back and let the EMT take over. The man efficiently dealt with the scratches, then pointed to the red stains on her shirt, visible beneath the jacket. “Is that blood from your hands?”

For the first time Starr seemed uncomfortable. “Er...no. Kitty got a little wild when I climbed out of the window. But it’s okay, I’ll take care of it myself.” She zipped the jacket to her throat as her gaze darted sideways, colliding with Noah’s. He instantly remembered the intimate contact between their bodies as they’d climbed down the ladder.

“We can step into the ambulance if you’d like,” the technician suggested.

“No, I’ll take care of it later.”

“Cat scratches get infected easily. Perhaps you’d feel more comfortable if Dr. Bradley examined you,” the EMT said smoothly.

“Uh...I don’t think so,” Starr murmured.

Noah lifted his hand in exasperation. Was she holding a grudge? Admittedly, he hadn’t been very accommodating when she’d called, asking to take Becky for a weekend. His niece was still adjusting to her parents’ deaths, and he didn’t want her daily routine upset for an absentee godmother, visiting on a whim. Maybe that explained Starr’s reluctance to accept his help.

“We need to talk. Sit down,” he growled, pointing to the convenient step on the vehicle.

The EMT grinned and said he’d check in with the fire chief. Neither of them watched as he slipped away.

“I’m not—”

“Down!” Noah put his hands on Starr’s shoulders and pushed. She winced at the pressure, drawing the left side of her body away from him. A worried frown creased his mouth. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me another whopper, okay? One I might actually believe.”

Starr sighed. “It’s an old injury, and none of your business. Besides, I’m fine. I don’t need a doctor for a couple of scratches. It’s silly.”

“I don’t understand,” Noah said, attempting to sound reasonable. It was quite a struggle, because he felt anything but reasonable. “Think of me as a physician, not a man.”

Her enigmatic smile returned. “Let’s get one thing perfectly clear between us—I’m not your patient, and you’re not my doctor.”

“Do you have something against doctors?”

“Not particularly.”

Noah rubbed his forehead. Starr Granger was having an unfortunate effect on him—she made him insane. “Then what’s wrong, Miss...er...Ms. Granger?” he asked carefully.

She leaned toward him. “Make it easy. Call me Starr.” A complex mixture of emotion glimmered in her blue.-green eyes. “There’s a perfectly good reason I don’t want you to be my doctor.”

“Oh? What is it?”

The cool, unbandaged tips of her fingers stroked his jaw. “They say actions speak louder than words, so I’ll just have to show you.” Her lips brushed his mouth and the heat went clear to his toes.

“What was that supposed to prove?” he asked, his voice gritty with restraint. The last thing he’d expected from the rebellious Starr was a kiss.

“I thought it was obvious. I guess I’ll have to try one more time.” An instant later she flowed against him, filling his senses with warmth and the scent of honeysuckle.

Unable to resist, Noah slid his fingers into the soft silk of her hair and pulled her closer. She tasted like an exotic fruit, provocative and mysterious, with infinite layers of texture and passion.

He knew exactly what she was telling him. The American Medical Association disapproved of kisses between doctors and patients, but Starr hadn’t let him become her doctor. They were just a man and woman, kissing in front of half the Astoria fire department. Somehow that didn’t seem to matter.

After an endless moment she pulled away.

“See you later, Dr. Bradley,” she said, spinning on her heel and walking away.

Noah’s mouth dropped open as she disappeared. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered.

He shook his head, trying to clear her tantalizing fragrance from his senses. Starr Granger had all the physical equipment to make a man feel...restless. But he didn’t want to get involved with anyone, much less a globe-trotting journalist who took incredible chances to get her photographs.

Not that it mattered. Starr had probably just kissed him because of excess adrenaline. He didn’t consider himself boring, but he was hardly the type of man to attract a woman with her explosive life-style.

A reluctant smile curved Noah’s mouth when he realized he was just making excuses. His common sense told him to forget the sensual fire in Starr’s restless eyes and supple body—he just didn’t want to.