The Water Baby

by Roz Denny Fox

  “You have to or we stop right here.”

  Fingers shaking, Daisy ripped the packet open and followed his equally shaky instructions. And the rest was easy once Temple set his sights on pleasing her. For Daisy Sloan made love the way she did everything else, to the utmost and without inhibition.

  She abandoned herself to the rasp of his tongue on her flesh and eagerly returned the favor.

  He loved the way her pulse skittered under his lips, and the way her eyes grew wide, dark and meltingly soft when he stroked her. Temple kissed and caressed, intending to pleasure her for hours. An instant later, however, she erupted like a geyser and the pace skidded out of his control. It had been a long time since his need had been so great. In desperation and in spite of his wound, Temple tried to hold back, wanting a good experience for her.

  Mistakenly he assumed he could harness the desire that lapped at his blood and pushed his urgency over the edge. And he misjudged Daisy’s determination to have it all— to reach the highest pinnacle hard and fast. He rolled her on top, ignoring the blinding pain that shot up his arm.

  Her hips drove against him until he was irrational with need—until he arched high off the bed and his mouth made a foray up her rib cage. When he reached her lips, he moaned with both pain and pleasure. They went around the last curve together and tumbled, together, into an ecstatic release. “I love you,” she whispered.

  Had she really said those words? Dazed and out of breath, Temple toppled sideways onto the love-damp sheets, uncaring at the moment that he landed hard, sending yet another stab of pain up his arm. His good arm cradled Daisy’s shuddering body close until he felt the series of aftershocks recede. They lay in silence for so long that he feared, among other things, that he’d hurt her. When his heart finally slowed its breakneck gallop, he spoke her name.

  “Daisy?” His voice seemed to reverberate in the quiet room as though through a loudspeaker. It made her body buck.

  Assuming he was in pain, she scrambled to her knees and rolled him gently onto his back. “Oh, Temple!” she exclaimed. “Did I hurt you?”

  He moved his good arm, which had flopped across his face. He opened one lazy eye and searched hers. “Isn’t that my line?” he asked huskily, watching moonlight spill over her shoulder, illuminating the golden freckles that dusted her nose. God help him, but he wanted her again. He wouldn’t have thought it possible. But however willing the spirit might be, the flesh was weak. It was as if a hundred devils poked pitchforks into his arm.

  Daisy held still for his intense inspection just so long. She wasn’t nearly as comfortable with her nakedness in the aftermath as Temple apparently was. Although she’d gladly repeat the experience… It’d been like riding a fifty-foot swell and diving into the eye of a hurricane. But now—well, why was he staring at her like that? Daisy groped blindly among the tangled sheets and came up with her vest. Temple’s jaw worked as if he was tense. She felt miraculously free; obviously he hadn’t been as pleased.

  There was no love in his eyes now, Daisy saw. They were dark, troubled. Shadowed by pain—or regret? Was it because she’d said she loved him? If only he’d say something. But the joy was patently one-sided. Quietly she gathered the rest of her clothing. His silence spelled remorse. Daisy could take anything over remorse.

  Temple clawed his way through a hazy cloud of pain in time to see Daisy—two Daisies—striding toward the door. He struggled to sit up, but black spots danced in front of his eyes. A crushing weight down one side seemed to hold him prisoner. He fell back to keep from passing out. “Daisy, I’m sorry,” he managed to whisper. And he was, wholly so; he didn’t know why one of the most beautiful experiences in his life was ending all wrong. But the door had already closed on his words.

  By the light spilling in from the sitting room, Daisy had seen the quiver of his hand. She’d heard the vibration in his voice as she went out and slammed the door. Her steps slowed a moment. Was he all right? He’d been shot; he’d spent hours in the emergency room. But, no, there’d been nothing wrong with his vital organs. The rat. She laughed hysterically, then burst into tears.

  Temple absorbed the noise of the door slamming. The day’s events came crowding back as he heaved himself up. It was as if he was still aboard the Lazy Daisy, the boat rocking under his feet. He found his pants and got first one leg in and then the other. He gave up trying to zip them. Tenderness for Daisy warred in his heart with fear for her and Rebecca. A pressing fear that something terrible was going to happen.

  He stumbled toward the door and bumped into the wall. Why had Daisy left his bed so abruptly? They should still be lying there, curled into one another. A desperate need to see her, to see that she was all right, hammered at him. By the time he found the door and braced himself with his good hand, she’d disappeared. The door to her room was not only closed, it was locked, he discovered a moment later.

  “Daisy,” he croaked.

  She didn’t answer.

  Hell! He’d have to sort things out with her tomorrow. Today, he revised, remembering it was well after midnight as he set a wobbly course for his bed. Feeling the bandage constrict, he tried to adjust it and noticed that his hand came away bloody.

  “Holy hell!” Had he broken stitches during their wild dance across the sheets? he wondered, paying attention to the fingers of heat that snaked up his arm.

  The room seemed to pulse around him, forcing him to close his eyes. Sleep. That was what he needed. Later, it was late… He couldn’t seem to focus his eyes well enough to read the bedside clock.

  “To hell with sleep,” he muttered. It was his responsibility to figure out a way to get Daisy and Rebecca away from those crazies. But he needed to open the balcony doors first. It had grown fiery hot. Or was it cold? Freezing. His teeth started to chatter. What had he done with that bedspread? In his attempt to get up and find it, Temple fought against a swirling black vortex that tried to drag him down. He teetered a moment, lost his balance and toppled over.

  Daisy had just stepped out of a shower that hadn’t done a thing to cool her passion. She was in the midst of toweling her hair when she heard a noise. A thump. Had Temple thrown something across the room? Maybe a shoe? Relieved when Rebecca didn’t so much as stir, Daisy tiptoed over to the common wall. She felt foolish after standing with her ear flattened there for five minutes. Or perhaps furious was more like it. He was probably sleeping like a baby. He’d awake rested, and she’d look like something the cat dragged in.

  Stalking back to the bed, Daisy whacked her pillow to plump it. Why on earth should she think he’d give her feelings a second thought? He’d gotten what he wanted. Just because she’d been blinded by love. Why hadn’t she listened to Daniel and Sal? They’d tried to tell her he was just a big-city dude on the prowl. Well, she wouldn’t have to worry about Mr. Taj Mahal Wyatt much longer—if he’d even told the truth about his name. With the progress Rebecca had exhibited earlier, he’d probably take off tomorrow. Back to their fancy penthouse and designer labels. With that thought came enough tears to soak her pillow. Enough tears to send her into a troubled sleep.

  DAISY FOUGHT HER WAY up through the fog as something soft nudged her face. “Go away, Pipsqueak,” she muttered, gently batting at the dog, who thought it was his sworn duty to get her up at the break of dawn. The sound of a childish giggle had Daisy’s eyes popping open. Nothing familiar came into focus. “Ugh,” she groaned, causing another spate of giggles to her right.

  Turning, Daisy came face-to-face with Straylia. Becca, fully dressed in clean clothes, knelt in the middle of the bed, her cherubic face wreathed in smiles. She tapped Daisy’s face rhythmically with the stuffed bear. “Who’re you?” the child twittered without a trace of fear. “Straylia says you’re Goldilocks. I told him that’s silly. Goldilocks isn’t real.” The blue eyes inspected every inch of Daisy. “Since we’re at a hotel, I figured you’re some kind of nanny. My daddy hires them to stay with me while he works.” She sighed. “I wish you were Goldilocks.”


  “Why?” Daisy’s voice was croaky with sleep. She bolted upright, her brain jumbled with the possibilities Dr. Rankin had outlined. Regression was one of them. Had Rebecca recovered her memory, some of it, and lost the recent past? “Why do you wish I was Goldilocks?” she asked, wishing Temple was here to deal with this latest development.

  “’Cause I hate waiting around Daddy’s hotels. It’s boring.”

  “Well, my sweet water baby, you’re in luck today. It’s not one of daddy’s hotels, but he’s snoring away next door.” She pointed in the direction of his room.

  “Really?” The bright blue eyes rounded with pleasure. “Daddy’s here and he’s not working? Come on, Straylia, let’s you and me go see “

  “Wait, sweetie.” Daisy suddenly had a vivid flashback as to how Temple Wyatt had looked sprawled on that bed. In the buff. And those little foil packets strewn across the covers—not that Rebecca would understand them. Her words of caution came too late, however; the child’s nimble fingers unlocked the door, and she was out before Daisy managed to untangle her legs from the sheets.

  Moving fast brought out soreness in places that taunted Daisy with a clear reminder of the activities that had taken place in Temple’s bed last night—along with their abrupt end. Daisy ran a hand through her hair and slowed her steps.

  How could she have overslept? She’d fully intended to get up early, call a cab and walk out of here. After all, she had her own problems at home, problems that needed attention. She could still grab her things and leave if she got to Rebecca in time. Something of a dull ache lodged in Daisy’s chest as she thought about not seeing the child again. She knew that once she stepped through the suite door, she would sever all personal ties to the Wyatts, father and daughter. Of course, she’d owe him money for the wiring forever. But maybe the bank would lend her some against the Lazy Daisy. That reminded her of yesterday’s damage to the trawler, and she groaned in hopelessness.

  Out the bedroom door, Daisy turned and nearly ran over Rebecca.

  “Daddy’s sleeping on the floor,” the girl announced.

  “On the floor?”

  Rebecca nodded. “His face feels all hot and sweaty. I tried to get him to wake up and talk, but he only makes funny gurgling noises.”

  “Oh, no!” Daisy remembered the loud thump she’d heard. That had been… what time? She looked at her watch. Three hours ago at least. He’d taken that room because he’d been worried about a visit by the men from the powerboat. Had it happened? With shaking hands, she set the child aside and dashed into Temple’s room.

  He was indeed on the floor—and hot, as Rebecca had said. Thank heaven he wasn’t dead. But something was wrong. He was mumbling. Crazy talk. Daisy threw open the curtains over the side window to let in more light, then knelt to check his pulse. Irregular. There was blood on his bandage, too. Not enough to worry about, she thought, but then, she wasn’t a nurse. Daisy glanced up to see Rebecca hovering in the doorway. Tears streaked the girl’s pale cheeks.

  “Is my daddy gonna die?” she asked plaintively.

  Daisy wished she could give an unequivocal no. “We’re going to get him some help. You be brave, you hear?” As she reached for the bedside phone, Daisy wondered if this had triggered Rebecca’s memory of the other accident— the one involving her mother.

  Someone with a Midwest twang answered on the third ring. Daisy explained to the clerk that Mr. Wyatt had been taken ill. She requested an ambulance. Thank goodness she didn’t have to deal with that nosy Doreen.

  After Daisy had covered Temple with the bedspread, discreetly as possible picking up all the foil packets and shoving them in the pocket of the jeans she’d quickly pulled on, she gathered Rebecca into her arms for a generous hug. “Why don’t you go out and sit in the big blue chair? Call me the minute someone knocks. You can watch TV if you like. Only don’t turn it up so loud that we can’t hear the door. You know how to work the television?” Daisy asked.

  Becca rolled her eyes. “Silly,” she said. “Everyone knows how to work a TV.”

  Daisy frowned. Up until yesterday Rebecca Maria Wyatt hadn’t remembered how to color. Just like that, she’d become a normal kid. Which was what Dr. Rankin had said might happen. But if Becca had recovered her memory, she hadn’t said a word about events leading up to the accident.

  “Darn. What’s taking that ambulance so long?” Daisy muttered as Temple moaned and flung the spread off his injured arm. That was when Daisy got a good look at the series of angry red streaks running down the inside of the badly swollen arm. “Blood poisoning,” she whispered aloud. She’d changed his dressing shortly after midnight. The streaks hadn’t been there then. Daisy wondered if she’d done something horribly wrong; at the same moment, Rebecca called to say there was someone at the door.

  Daisy had never been so glad to see anyone in her life. A policeman walked in on the heels of a young man with long hair, who said he was the medic. “I replaced last night’s escort,” the officer informed Daisy. He removed his hat and stepped inside the bedroom where she’d led the man with the medical equipment.

  “I overheard the clerk giving the medic your room number and came to see what was going on. You should’ve called me first, you know.”

  “I forgot all about you,” Daisy said honestly. She jerked her head toward Temple’s prone form. “I think the gunshot wound he got yesterday is infected.”

  Rebecca ran over and tugged on Daisy’s blouse. “Was that why my daddy saw the doctor yesterday? He got shot?” Her eyes brimmed with tears. “People die when they gets shot.”

  The policeman, whose name tag said he was Sergeant Chap Denton, issued a low whistle. “She talks,” he whispered. “Can she give us a make on either of our shooters?”

  Daisy put both arms around the child, gathering her close. She glared at the man in the blue uniform. “Last time I looked she was still a minor. Don’t you need permission from her father to question her?”

  Smirking, he bent to pick up a foil packet. “Afraid our questions might lose you the goose that lays the golden eggs?”

  Daisy’s breath hissed in between her teeth. Fortunately the medic got to his feet just then, asking the sergeant to call down and have his partner bring a stretcher. “Classic case of septicemia,” he said. “I’ve administered antibiotics, but the doctor may want to keep him in hospital overnight. Mr. Wyatt’s coming around, but he’s still in shock.”

  “He had a shot of antibiotics yesterday,” Daisy said defensively.

  “Maybe not strong enough. Blood poisoning sets in fast. Did he forget to take his penicillin last night?”

  “I don’t think he even got the prescription filled. It’s probably still in his shirt pocket.”

  The medic gave her an assessing look. “This is what happens when you don’t follow instructions. Oh, good. Here’s the stretcher. You can trail in your car, Mrs. Wyatt. We can’t let a kid ride in the ambulance.”

  Daisy blushed. “I’m not Mrs. Wyatt. I’m his child’s sitter. Where are you taking him?” she asked, refusing to retreat from the medic’s once-over of her sleep-rumpled appearance.

  He named the hospital where they’d been yesterday. Daisy nodded briskly.

  “So you’ll be there to help check him in?” the medic persisted. “Mr. Wyatt isn’t making much sense, and it sounds as if he’s worried about his daughter. Is this her?” He smiled at Rebecca.

  “Tell him to relax,” Daisy instructed their go-between. She couldn’t bring herself to face Temple. Not yet. Not until she sorted out what was going on.

  Yet as they wheeled him out, fear swelled in her heart. Temple’s normally tan skin blended too well with the stark white of the sheet. Should she have seen this coming? Had it been made worse by their romp?

  Sergeant Denton broke into her thoughts, saying he’d wait downstairs and follow her to the hospital. The dolt didn’t even have the courtesy to apologize for his uncalled-for rude remark.

  Feeling suddenly tired, she forced hersel
f to start packing their bags. Did anyone care that she wasn’t the same woman who’d entered this room last night? A lot of momentous things had happened since she’d gone through their trashed bedrooms and packed a change of clothing for each of them.

  Daisy felt grungy, in spite of the quick shower she’d taken last night. She’d like another, but she had Becca to consider. The girl was talking a blue streak about nothing in particular. Daisy recognized it as the kind of meaningless chatter that went with nerves. She’d talked Daniel’s ear off a few times herself during her dad’s illness.

  With a last sweep of the room, Daisy gently shooed Becca toward the door.

  “Where am I going?” Becca hung back as Daisy stepped into the hall.

  “To the hospital to make sure your dad’s okay and they have everything they need to admit him. Overnight,” she added. “It’ll be all right, Rebecca.”

  “Then where am I going?” The girl dragged her heels now.

  Daisy had grown weary of answering the same question. However, she sensed the girl’s distress. “Where do you want to go, Becca?”

  The little lips pursed. “My name is Rebecca Maria Wyatt. Not Becca.”

  Surprised, Daisy thought back to the day in court when Temple had made the same declaration. Remembering how he’d looked brought a lump to her throat. “All right,” she said around it. “I’ll call you Rebecca and you may call me Daisy. Would you like to stay at my house until your daddy gets well? I have a dog and a cat,” she tossed out as extra enticement.

  “And a pony? I want a pony. My grandmother says city girls can’t have ponies. And Daddy’s hotels won’t let anyone have animals.” She gave Daisy a pretty dimpled smile. “I’ll go with you, but only till Daddy gets well— unless he can come, too. He gets lonesome without me, you know.”

  Daisy’s heart wrenched. Had Rebecca said those same words to her mother? And did Miranda promise her a pony to get her to leave? Daisy’s stomach knotted. Come to think of it, Rebecca had now mentioned everyone in her family except Miranda. Was that significant? While they were at the hospital, she just might drop by Dr. Rankin’s office to see what she could find out.