Little Girl Found

by Jo Leigh

She wasn’t sure why this had been his response. But she could hazard a guess. He’d felt helpless and he couldn’t stand it. She hated that it took something so dangerous to motivate him, but she wasn’t going to argue with the result. “All right,” she agreed. “Right after dinner.”

  He put his hand on her knee. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “As long as I have my potato peeler, I’m not worried.”

  That made him smile. And lean toward her. Her eyes fluttered closed as she waited for his kiss, but it didn’t come. He cleared his throat, took back his hand, shifted away.

  She got up to put dinner on the table.

  HE WATCHED HAILEY put pajamas on Megan, but he wasn’t interested in the child. His focus was on the woman. He studied each feature carefully. Her hair, her eyes, her nose. When he got to her mouth, he stopped breathing. The thought of kissing her, of holding her, spurred more dangerous thoughts. Maybe she wouldn’t mind the scars. Or that he was on disability. Maybe she could overlook his limp and his cane.

  Who was he kidding? Hailey was a woman, not a saint. She might be able to ignore his problems at first, but it wouldn’t last. She’d wake up one morning and see him for what he was, and she’d hate him for tricking her.

  He couldn’t do that to her. Not her. She laughed and the sound moved through him, stirring something warm deep inside.

  If she had been anyone else, he’d make a move and damn the consequences. If she had been anyone else, he wouldn’t care that he had to move gingerly or that she’d probably have to do most of the work.

  But he couldn’t stand it if she pitied him.

  “Someone wants to say good-night,” Hailey said as she and Megan came over to the couch.

  “Oh, yeah? Who?” he asked, glancing at Megan and trying to look very serious.

  “Me,” she said.

  “Me, who?”

  “Me, Megan.”

  “Megan who?”

  “Megan Chandler.”

  “Hmm,” he said, rubbing his chin. “Megan Chandler. Have I ever met her?”

  Megan giggled and looked up at Hailey. “He’s funny.”

  “You’re right,” Hailey said. “He’s very funny.”

  Megan let go of Hailey’s hand and got up on the couch next to him. Then, leaving Tottie on the cushion beside him, she climbed onto his lap, facing him. She put her little hands on his cheeks. So tiny, so warm, so unexpected, he had to swallow a lump in his throat.

  “You’ve met me,” she said solemnly. “I’m the little girl who lives here.”

  “Oh,” he said. “That Megan.”

  She giggled again, leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips. Then she leaned back. “Your face is scratchy.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” he said. “I think your hands are scratchy.”

  “Uh-uh. Look.” She held up her hands, palms front, proving her statement unequivocally.

  “My mistake,” he said.

  She leaned sideways to get Tottie, then brought the doll up to his face. “Tottie wants a kiss good-night, too.”

  He blinked at the ratty doll, then up at Hailey. She was no help. She was grinning like the Cheshire cat.

  “Can’t I just kiss you again?”

  Megan shook her head. “Tottie.”

  “Tottie,” he repeated, grateful beyond words no cameras were around. He quickly kissed the doll, then smiled broadly, unwilling to let Megan know how silly he felt.

  She nodded at him, then climbed off his lap. Once she was on the floor again, she said, “Hailey, if you ask him, he’ll kiss you good-night, too.”

  “Thank you,” Hailey said. “I’ll do that. Now, let’s get you and Tottie into bed.”

  The two of them walked away hand in hand, Tottie dragging across the carpet. What would it be like if they were his? If this wasn’t a temporary unnatural situation?

  He looked away, wiping the image from his mind as he struggled up to get the exercise mat. His hip hurt like hell, but he didn’t care. He would do the work, whatever it took, even though he knew he’d never be completely whole. But at least he’d look normal on the outside. He’d work as hard as he had to, for as long as he had to.

  It took him a while to get down on the floor, but fortunately Hailey was still in the bedroom with Megan. He moved his cane out of the way and began the first stretch, remembering to count to five, to breathe at the exertion, just as Hailey had told him to.

  But he missed her voice. Her encouragement. The feel of her hand on his back.

  God, what was the matter with him? He was acting like a lovesick boy and for what? Wanting her was more painful than the bullet wound. He couldn’t have her. He cared too much to do that to her.

  HAILEY WATCHED HIM for a while, grateful that Megan had gone to sleep so quickly. She’d feared that her long nap would keep her up, but Megan surprised her. Hailey smiled, thinking about the little girl and how adorable she was. The truth was, she was in love with Megan. In love with her strength and her curly hair and the way she smelled. She wanted the girl for her own, and if something happened to take her away? She couldn’t think of that. Not tonight.

  Her gaze focused again on Jack. And the same swell of affection filled her, only the feelings she had for Jack were more complicated. Much more complicated. The way she felt about him was layered, some of it intellectual, but most of it quite primal. Just looking at him made her breasts ache to be touched, made her grow moist and needy.

  But she couldn’t do a damn thing about it. She’d already made a big enough fool of herself. No way she could stand to be rejected again. She wasn’t strong enough.

  Jack did his final stretch, which was her cue. She knelt in front of him as he lay back. His chest rose and fell rapidly—he’d worked hard. She lifted his right leg, but instead of pushing it toward his chest, she pulled off his boot, then did the same with his left boot. He didn’t say anything as she then brought his foot to her chest. He had on navy socks. She shifted his foot until it nestled between her breasts, and then she slowly pushed, forcing his leg up and back. She tried to count, but he was looking at her. His gaze went from her eyes to his foot and where she’d put it.

  She leaned back, breaking the connection between them, at least the eye contact. But she couldn’t shake off the arousal that had her chest rising and falling as if she’d just run a mile. She pushed again, unable to keep from meeting his gaze. Completely aware that he would see her desire. Prepared to have him do nothing about it. She was a fool and she knew it. And still she begged him with her eyes.

  The game went on for a long time. She kept up her end of the bargain by helping him stretch his muscles. He worked with her, breathing when he was supposed to, relaxing even though she knew he was hurting.

  All the while they said nothing with their mouths, but volumes with their eyes. With their bodies.

  She told him of her need.

  He answered with his hunger.

  She blushed, but she didn’t look away.

  And he grew hard. Visibly hard.

  Finally she finished and she started to move into the next position, but Jack sat up and grabbed her wrist. The game was over. He’d tell her to stop. To leave him be. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t.

  He pulled her toward him, his grasp so rough it hurt. But she didn’t care. Then he kissed her, hard. Kissed her with all the desperation she’d felt, all the desire she’d been unable to fight.

  She kissed him back, tasting him, breathing his scent, following him as he lay down until they were both on the mat and his arms were around her.

  As his hand moved down her back, she shivered, loving his touch, wanting more. Much more. She broke the kiss and stilled his hand. “We can’t do this here,” she said. “Megan.”

  He nodded and propped himself up on his elbow. But then he paused and she saw his doubt. She could back off now, no harm done. She could make a joke, pretend it didn’t matter. Instead, she stood and held out her hands. Urging him to take them. To let her help him.r />
  For a long moment, long enough for her to wonder about her sanity, she stood there. And then his hands were in hers. She pulled him up, letting him lean lightly on her with his arm around her shoulder and hers around his waist. She smiled as she walked with him toward his bedroom.

  Was it really her? Shy quiet Hailey? It couldn’t be. But it was. He’d changed her. He’d made her bold.

  They walked into his room and she kicked the door shut behind them. Then she helped him to the bed.

  “Hailey,” he said. “I don’t know…”

  “I do,” she said. “So you just relax.”

  “I want it to be perfect. Perfect for you.”

  She smiled again. “It already is.” She kissed him, ran her tongue over his lips, then pulled back. He started to unbutton his shirt, but she stopped him. “Relax,” she whispered as she sank to her knees in front of him, spreading his legs apart so she could be closer.

  She unbuttoned his shirt slowly, loving the feeling of power she had, the electricity that seemed to flow from her fingertips. She felt no embarrassment, no hesitation. Only pleasure, anticipation.

  At the last button she pulled his shirt wide open and kissed his chest. As she worked to unbuckle his belt, she moved her lips to his nipple, flicking it with her tongue, making him moan.

  Using only her sense of touch, she found the buttons on his jeans and undid them one by one. Then she sat back, admiring his strong chest, the line of dark hair that went down and down until it was hidden by his boxers. She smiled as she saw the evidence of his arousal, now unfettered by the heavy jeans. But she wanted to see everything. All of him.

  She reached to touch him, but he stopped her. He took her wrists and raised her to her feet. Then he pulled her close, burying his head against her stomach, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist.

  She rubbed her fingers through his dark hair, then down his back. Lifting his shirt, she caressed his bare flesh, amazed at his heat and his muscles.

  He kissed her breast through the material of her sweater, then pulled back. He lifted the garment as high as he could, then she took over, pulling it up and off. She tossed it on the floor.

  His hands moved behind her back until they met at the clasp of her bra. With a magician’s deftness, he unhooked the clasp, then moved his hands to the straps, pulling them down until the bra came all the way off. She let it drop at his feet while he touched her. Gently, almost too gently, he rubbed his palms against her stiffened nipples until she was forced to lean into his hands. He cupped her, then brought his mouth to the dark aureole of her right breast.

  She had to close her eyes as he teased her nipple with his tongue and his teeth, as he sucked and licked the tender flesh. Just when she couldn’t stand it another minute, he moved to her left breast, where he paid the same exquisite homage.

  Jack moved his hands to her leggings, snaking his fingers beneath the material, then pulling down. In one smooth motion, she was almost naked. She stepped back, knowing his gaze was all over her, kicked away her pants and her shoes.

  Now she was naked, and the way he looked at her made her know she was beautiful in his eyes. She felt beautiful and not at all shy. She was his. All of her. Her hopes, her dreams, her body, her love.

  He stood up, leaning a little, but not needing her to steady him, and he pushed his jeans and boxers down until he could shove them off to the side. Then he stood quite still, his arms at his sides, his back straight and tall.

  She drank in the sight of him, the beauty of his chest with its dark swirls of hair, down to his flat stomach and hard thick manhood, and finally to his strong legs. She had never seen anyone so handsome before, so masculine. So ready.

  Then her gaze moved to his hip, where she saw the scar, the reminder of the hell he’d been through. It didn’t bother her. On the contrary, it made her long to hold him close, to reassure him that he was perfect just the way he was.

  With him unmoving, watching her reaction, she reached over and ran her finger lightly over the ridge of reddened tissue. He flinched, but she knew she wasn’t hurting him. Then she took his hand and brazenly brought it to her sex. Letting him feel how much she ached for him. Letting him see that the scar didn’t matter.

  His fingers slipped inside her and he groaned, “Oh, Baby you’re so wet. So hot.”

  “Lie down,” she whispered. “Please.”

  He obeyed, even though she could see he didn’t want to stop touching her. He sat first, then lay back, shifting until his head was on his pillow.

  She smiled as she lay down next to him. As she took him in her hand and felt him pulse with desire. He kissed her again, and she understood that he’d been holding back all this time. Waiting until he knew she accepted him.

  He tried to move her to her back, but she stopped him. “Not this time,” she said. “This time, it’s my turn.”

  “But—”

  She kissed him silent as she pushed his shoulder back, then rose to her knees. She straddled him and rubbed against him until he begged her to stop. Then she guided him inside her, moving slowly, trembling as he filled her, as he made her complete.

  She eased all the way down, making him gasp and reach for her. She put his hands on her breasts as she rode him. Slow and easy, squeezing him tight, abandoned to the flesh and the need, dizzy with a fulfillment she’d never dreamed of.

  He caught her gaze and held it as she moved up and down, meeting his thrusts with thrusts of her own. Nothing in her life had prepared her for this. For this mixture of eroticism and love. For this perfect blend of heart, soul and body.

  She wanted this forever. She wanted to wake up in this man’s arms. To make love with him every night. To care for him and be cared for in return.

  His hips moved faster, and his hand moved down her body until his thumb found her most sensitive spot. He rubbed in sensuous circles, bringing her closer and closer to completion.

  It was too much. Suddenly she gasped and shuddered, every muscle in her body tightening and relaxing. She held on to him with her thighs, her hands on his chest, as he kept rubbing and rubbing until finally he cried out with his release.

  She held him steady for a moment, then fell forward, laying her head on his shoulder, still trembling. “Jack,” she whispered. “Oh, Jack.”

  He took in great breaths and hugged her. “I know, baby. I know.”

  “What have you done to me?” she asked.

  His chuckle made his chest vibrate. “What have I done? I swear, it’s always the quiet ones you have to watch out for.”

  “Me?” she said. “Little old me?”

  Jack lifted her head until he captured her gaze. He wanted to make sure she knew he was telling her the truth. “You. Only you.”

  She sighed, then laid her head on his chest. “That’s lovely.”

  He wouldn’t have chosen that word. He might have used miraculous. Because that was what it felt like. A miracle.

  He’d never dared to believe this could happen. That she’d accept him so completely. That she’d give so much of herself.

  He remembered when he’d first seen her hold Megan, how he’d thought he’d never feel that safe in a woman’s arms. But tonight all that had changed.

  He was home.

  But it was a house of cards. Temporary at best. There wasn’t enough to make it any more than that. “Hailey?”

  “Huh?” She sounded sleepy. Which wasn’t a bad thing. It made it easier to talk.

  “You asked me once what had happened. About my hip.”

  She ran her hand across his chest and hugged him more tightly. “You don’t need to tell me.”

  “I want to.”

  She kissed him on the shoulder, then relaxed again.

  “I was on a stakeout about four months ago. Me and Frank. We were investigating a murder. We didn’t have a lot to go on. The killer was clever, and he’d tried to make it look like the victim had killed herself. But we found some trace evidence. He was her boyfriend, and she had some money
and a Mercedes she’d earmarked for him. He liked to gamble and he needed a way to pay some debts.”

  “Nice way to solve a problem,” Hailey said.

  “He was a swell guy. He made it look like she’d shot herself. And let me tell you, he did a hell of a job. Just not good enough. There were fibers.”

  “Fibers?”

  “That’s all it would take to bring him in. If we could make a match.”

  “And that’s why you were watching him?”

  “Yeah. He knew we were getting close and that the lab boys would nail him. We were making sure he didn’t bolt before we got the evidence.”

  “He tried to get away?”

  “Yep. And he had a small arsenal to help him. I saw the first two weapons. But not the third one.”

  “It must have been awful.”

  “We got him, but not until after…after he’d done his damage.”

  “After he’d turned your world upside down,” she said softly, as if talking more to herself than him.

  “I’ve never been anything but a cop,” he said. “I went into the department right after college. I’d never wanted to do anything else. Not ever. I’m not sure why. I don’t have any relatives in law enforcement.”

  “You’re still a cop, Jack,” she said. “The bullet didn’t change that.”

  “Yes, it did. You know it did.”

  “Then you have to work hard to get well.”

  “Even if I do, there’s no guarantee.”

  “You can’t worry about that. You have to take one step at a time. Do the work and leave the results alone.”

  “I don’t know if I can.”

  She sat up and so did he. She took his face in her hands. “Of course you can. You can do anything you set your mind on. And I’ll help. I’ll be right there with you, if you want me.”

  He wanted to say, Sure. Let’s do it for the Gipper. You and me, babe, against the world. But that would be a lie. “I didn’t tell you this to ask for help.”

  “I know that,” she said, dropping her hands. Her enthusiasm of a second ago diminished.

  “No, I don’t think you do. I told you that so you’ll understand why this can’t go any further.”

  She looked away for a moment, and when she looked back, her face was flushed with anger. “I don’t recall asking for anything more.”