The Water Baby

by Roz Denny Fox

  To keep from reaching down and stroking his stubbled jaw, Daisy made good her escape.

  Fifteen minutes later, when she returned from the bathroom feeling much restored, someone was pounding on the door. Temple had stretched out on the couch and appeared to be fast asleep. Daisy hated to wake him, but she had no idea if he intended to put the food against the bill or pay cash. And should she offer to pay half? She wasn’t even sure how much food cost in a place like this. Did she have enough money on her? By the time she reached the door, having decided to sign Temple’s name to the ticket and settle up with him later, he jolted awake.

  “Don’t open that door without asking who it is!” he yelled, scrambling to his feet. Wavering for a moment, he soon recovered his bearings and strode past her to demand a name from their visitor. Even though a masculine voice proclaimed room service, Temple only cracked open the door the length of the chain.

  Daisy thought his precautions silly. But she wasn’t the one who’d been shot at. Six weeks ago, she’d naively felt safe in Galveston. Those jerks in the powerboat had changed everything.

  The aroma of food wafting through the door was heavenly. When Temple released the chain and rolled the cart into the room, Daisy padded after him like a hungry puppy. She chuckled as Temple parked it beside two cane chairs. “I must look a lot like Pipsqueak does when I go to fill his doggy bowl. You’d think I hadn’t eaten all day.”

  Temple smiled. “Well, come and dig in.”

  But in spite of her own hunger, Daisy remembered her plan to wake Rebecca. Excusing herself, she hurried off to the bedroom. Careful as she was to keep her voice low, Becca sat up with a start. “Daddy,” the girl whimpered. Daisy heard her say it plain as day. In the midst of thrashing about on the bed, she called for her father again—louder this time.

  Temple came running, his face as white as the bandage around his upper arm. The minute he stepped close, Rebecca seemed to grow confused. She barreled into Daisy’s waiting arms and hid her face.

  “Was I hearing things?” He was visibly shaken.

  “I heard it, too. Only I don’t think she was fully awake But it’s a good sign. Let’s go eat—we’ll try to act normal.” Daisy set Temple’s daughter on her own two feet and led her from the room.

  At first Rebecca didn’t show any interest in eating. She prowled, touching first the couch, then the chairs. Daisy sat down, picked up her fork and launched a one-sided conversation with the girl. She explained that they were on a sort of mini-vacation at the hotel. After a few minutes, Temple got up and went into the bedroom, returning a moment later with Straylia. To the surprise of both adults, Rebecca ran up to him and snatched the koala from his hands.

  “Straylia’s hungry,” she announced, and promptly sat in Temple’s chair. In the coy way girls often had of wrapping their dads around their little fingers, Rebecca refused to look directly at him. She kept tabs on his every move from beneath her lashes. And she didn’t object when he placed a chair from the desk next to hers.

  There was an even more surprising development. As if someone had flipped a switch, she began chattering incessantly between swallowing bites of her pancake sandwich. Not about the accident or anything that had happened before that. And she didn’t seem to recognize the adults. But she recounted most of what she and Daisy had done that day. They’d gone to the beach first and built a big sand castle, she said—presumably to Temple—but before they’d left the beach it had washed away. Then they’d gone to another place where they went on rides, and….

  Neither Temple nor Daisy interrupted. Communicating with their eyes, they tacitly agreed to let Rebecca ramble. She talked in fits and spurts, glossing over the trip to the hospital, yet describing in great detail the toys that had come with her hamburger at the police station.

  When she seemed to run down, Temple filled two champagne glasses with the mimosa mixture from the carafe. Beaming, he clinked his glass with Daisy’s. “To a new beginning.”

  Daisy’s breath hitched. However, she was spared the chance to place her own interpretations on his words when Rebecca raised her glass of milk and joined in the toast. Temple’s hand shook, but his pleasure in the moment shone in his eyes.

  Daisy realized that, despite all the previous times she’d been dizzied by Temple Wyatt’s fleeting smiles, not one had really compared to this. It was something about his eyes. Before tonight, his eyes had never quite lost their distant edge. Except maybe that one time in her bedroom when they’d shared a kiss. Even then, his eyes had betrayed a different kind of heat beneath their normally guarded surface.

  Desire, she supposed she’d have to call it. For certainly it wasn’t love. Frowning, Daisy held out her glass for a refill. Love wasn’t so hard to recognize. She saw it in Temple’s expression when he looked at his daughter. She felt slightly flushed just being in its aura—and oh-sotempted to pretend his love was aimed at her, as well. Now that she knew for sure how love looked shimmering from a man’s eyes, she was positive she’d never settle for less.

  What if she never met a man who felt that way about her?

  “Story?” Becca piped up hopefully as she set her empty milk glass down. Staring straight at Daisy, the little girl batted her incredibly long dark lashes.

  Temple nudged Daisy’s arm. “A book. Did you pack any?”

  “I brought The Water Babies,” Daisy murmured, coming out from under her fog. “We’re on chapter five. Why don’t you read to her?” she urged Temple in an undertone as he continued to study her expectantly. “It’s in the pink duffel.” Resting her chin in her hand, Daisy returned his steady gaze.

  At first he seemed reluctant, as if leaving the room meant the magic of his daughter’s speech would be lost. Then with a barely audible sigh, he clambered to his feet, went into Daisy’s bedroom and came back with the wellread volume. Taking a seat on the couch nearest the lamp, he opened the book to the marker and started to read aloud, although Rebecca hadn’t moved from her chair.

  In a soft voice Daisy reminded Rebecca how much she liked the story. Soon the child crawled down. Eventually she crab-walked over to the far end of the couch, where she stayed well out of Temple’s reach.

  Pleased, Daisy finished her drink and poured herself another. It wasn’t long before Rebecca placed Straylia on the center cushion next to Temple and eased closer to see the colorful pictures. Daisy knew she’d carry that image in her heart forever.

  Temple had a wonderfully deep reading voice. Almost hypnotic. He didn’t seem to trip over the long sentences the way she did. Daisy felt more than one tug on her heart as he read about the underwater sprites she’d teasingly described to Rebecca that day in the cove. So much had happened to all of them since then. Daisy felt bad about the tragic circumstances that caused their lives to intertwine, but not about the fact that they had.

  Rebecca patted the picture and laughed musically when Temple read the lecture on ethics given by Mrs. Bedonebyasyoudid.

  Daisy’s mind skipped from the story to their situation. What had any of them done to deserve being shot at and chased by thugs? But, of course, even in the book there were innocent victims caught up in mischief not of their own making.

  Sighing, Daisy wondered if the mimosa wasn’t making her a little too relaxed. She quickly set the glass aside.

  Temple heard her sigh from across the room. He glanced up, lost his place and stumbled over the words. There was a floor lamp behind Daisy that shone through her red-gold curls—a bright nimbus around her delicate oval face. From this distance he couldn’t see the gold flecks in her dark eyes, but he knew how they normally sparkled. Tonight her eyes seemed unusually soft and dreamy. A flame of passion curled in his stomach and spiraled downward.

  “The water dogs. You didn’t read the part about the water dogs,” a little voice prompted.

  Temple tore his gaze away from the woman across the room and gaped in surprise at the child who had, sometime in the past few minutes, slipped under his good arm and now pressed tightly again
st his side. It took him another moment to digest what had happened. There was no question how he felt about this child of his, he thought, as his heart filled with overwhelming tenderness. And not long ago, he wouldn’t have believed there’d be room there for anyone else. But Daisy Sloan had sneaked in when he wasn’t looking.

  All senses on alert now, he began reading again. But the words of the story flowed more haltingly and with an occasional rough catch.

  As recently as last week, Temple wouldn’t have believed his body could be so torn between the joy of having Rebecca’s soft curls lightly brush his chin and wishing her safely asleep in the next room so that he could kiss Daisy. Kiss her, touch her hair and go on to explore every inch of her body.

  Good Lord, what kind of father did that make him? Temple paused and smiled mistily down on the mop of blond ringlets that burrowed against his shirt. It made him a father who felt fully alive for the first time in a long, long while. For an unguarded moment, he savored each of the separate passions. To Temple’s profound joy, he found it made him feel like a whole man again. And a damned lucky one.

  As his daughter’s small body sagged with tiredness, he watched the blue eyes so like his own fight to stay awake, and he picked up the pace of his reading. He didn’t, however, skip any words, even though his eyes kept straying to the woman across the room.

  Moments after the strange fairy came on the scene and sang her strange song, Rebecca lost the battle to sleep. Her blue-veined eyelids closed. Dark lashes fluttered softly, then lay still atop sun-kissed cheeks. Temple finished reading the last few lines of the chapter before he shut the book. “I don’t think I’ve ever read this. A few adults I know could benefit from its lessons,” he said, smiling at Daisy.

  “It’s fairy tale cover to cover, but it made life easier for me when my grandfather’s boat went down in a bad squall. I prefer to think he’s frolicking with the water babies.”

  “He was never found?”

  Daisy shook her head.

  Temple cleared his throat. “Does that happen a lot?”

  “Not so much now with the advances we’ve made in weather forecasting. Plus, the boats are better equipped. But, yes, if you live by the sea, you know you might die by her.”

  Temple rubbed his arm absently and shuddered. “I’ve never given much thought to dying.”

  “I don’t dwell on it. Anyway, we were discussing the merits of the book. When Rebecca remembers the accident, maybe she’ll recall this fairy tale. It always made me feel better to envision a mythical world at the bottom of the sea.

  “God, Daisy. Can’t you get a nice desk job in town?”

  “That’s an odd question.”

  Temple ran his fingers through Rebecca’s curls. “Don’t you want to get married and have a family?”

  “Isn’t it a little late to be playing twenty questions? Would you like some help getting little Miss Sleepyhead to bed?” she asked, deliberately changing the subject.

  Temple glanced at his watch. It was nearly midnight. No wonder he felt as if he was running on empty. Well, he was and he wasn’t. He felt so tired he could barely move, and every muscle in his body hurt like hell. His blood was a different story. It heated and sang in awareness of the woman who rose and walked breezily toward him. Nor did the awareness abate after they’d put Rebecca to bed.

  It did take a small detour, though, when Daisy pointed to fresh blood on his bandage. She stepped close and offered to rewrap it.

  “With what?” he murmured, reveling in the scent of magnolia that swirled around her.

  “Sit. I threw some stuff in my bag. Don’t you remember? My bathroom’s stocked with every emergency supply known to medical students.”

  “Okay.” He capitulated when she fetched the bag. “But be careful.”

  “It’s pretty swollen,” she said after removing the sling and uncovering the ragged wound. “How does it feel?” She ran her fingers lightly over the flesh above his stitches. “Your deltoid muscles are bunched,” she told him.

  “Ah…” Words tangled around Temple’s tongue as he gazed at her full lips.

  She withdrew her hand, eyes darkening in sympathy. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “No… you didn’t. Those muscles are in a knot,” he rasped. “So are the ones here.” He pointed to his shoulder blade.

  She nodded. “The trapezius,” She massaged a circle with three fingers. “It’s tight all right.”

  “How do you know so much about muscles?” he growled, suddenly fighting tightness elsewhere.

  Her smile was slightly smug. “I used to coach my medschool boarders before their tests. You’d be surprised how much rubbed off”

  Temple closed his eyes and let the lingering cloud of her perfume envelop him.

  Once the knots were eased, Daisy assembled the new bandages. Then she helped him off with his torn shirt and redressed his arm. She thought he’d dozed off as she worked, but when she leaned over to tape the back, he reached up with his good arm and pulled her down.

  Her protest was swallowed by his kiss. She tasted of orange juice and champagne. Much sweeter than the drink he’d sampled firsthand. Temple smoothed his fingers over her jaw, her ear, her springy hair, and he forgot all about his good intentions and his physical limitations as his heart began to gallop wildly.

  At first Daisy shied away from his naked chest. She didn’t want to hurt him. But soon she couldn’t think straight. He didn’t act like a man who was hurting. His skin was warm, ropey with muscles. He smelled faintly of the soap they’d given him to shower with at the police station.

  Temple wanted to caress her breasts, but his good arm had become trapped against the back of the couch. He kissed her long and hard, and in the midst of his frustration, he gave himself completely to the flow of feelings. “We need more room,” he murmured, leaving them both unsteady from his last kiss. “There’s a roomy bed next door.”

  “Rebecca—”

  “—has been sleeping through the night,” he finished in a husky voice, warm with promise. He kissed the soft skin beside her eye and the cleft of her chin, then nibbled gently on her earlobe.

  Daisy couldn’t think why she shouldn’t join him in that big bed. Or should she? He hadn’t exactly spoken words of love. She’d been so certain of his feelings before, certain that what he felt for her had more to do with sex, with physical attraction. But now love shone from his eyes. And it was centered on her. It pulsed around her. His last kiss was full, urgent on her mouth, and ended with a delicious melding of tongues. Her last thread of resistance snapped as she rose and led the way to his room.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  DECISION MADE, they didn’t tarry. Nothing about their relationship had been in half measures. They’d sparred with gloves off from the first, and now they headed into lovemaking the same way. Just inside the room, Temple caught her in an embrace that left no doubt as to his need for her.

  Flames licked at Daisy from the inside out, and she wondered if it was possible to disintegrate from the heat. The large three-quarter moon that shone brightly through the uncurtained balcony doors seemed cool by comparison.

  Temple, so long in control of every aspect of his feelings, felt almost giddy. Daisy’s firm warm body, the glow of a tropical moon, made him feel young again, carefree. He waltzed her to the bed and he bent down to strip away the spread with his good hand. He wondered if she was as dizzy with anticipation as he, then straightened slowly, needing to catch his breath.

  “What’s wrong?” she whispered, her heart beginning to pound.

  “Nothing,” he whispered back, tuning out the pulsing ache in his arm. “Absolutely nothing,” he repeated on a groan as his hand dropped to her breast, sending her heart and his into frantic confusion. By the time he captured her lips beneath his, the ache had made a subtle shift to a much lower region. But everything he needed to make all his aches go away he held in his arms.

  Caught in an undertow of sensations, Daisy struggled to keep her head abov
e water. She wanted to savor each experience as it came.

  Temple tried to free her hair from its confines, but impatience made him clumsy. She took a moment to trace his face and his lips with trembling fingers. Then, showing more patience than he, she unclipped the bow and let it fall. Touching him had almost been her undoing. His skin, smooth and hot, stoked the inner fires she’d purposely banked. She sank to the bed, one leg drawn beneath her. He did a smoother job of unbuttoning her sleeveless red-checked jacket and then laid a trail of kisses from her ear to the hollow of her throat.

  Breathless, Daisy stood, kicked off her sandals and, before her nerve left her, shed the rest of the outfit that had been such a hit at the precinct. Wearing only the briefest red bikini panties and a shy smile, she returned to Temple’s arms.

  Temple suddenly lost all ability to reason. His remaining clothes seemed an insurmountable barrier.

  But he needn’t have worried. Daisy helped to untie and discard his sneakers, and after a series of kisses, she was the one to drag the jeans down off his hips. “Wait,” he gasped, when things were almost out of hand. “In my back pocket…in my wallet, there’s…” He let the words dangle, cradling his throbbing arm.

  She did as he asked, and after she opened the section he indicated, an array of colorful foil wrappers spilled across the pale yellow sheet, and it was Daisy’s turn to gasp. She turned to him with accusing eyes. “My God, so many kinds! What are you, a sex maniac?”

  “No.” Temple laughed sheepishly and felt the laughter echo inside his head. “I don’t lay in a supply for travel, if that’s what you mean.”

  “You can’t mean you bought them on the Island!” she yelped. “That news will be the talk of the town.”

  “Daisy, calm down. I didn’t buy them at all. Medical supplies weren’t all your medical students hoarded. So, do you have a preference?” he asked, nuzzling her ear.

  “I, ah, no.” She followed him back to the pillow as he reached into the stack and handed her one. “What if I can’t do this?” she whispered against his lips.