Bewitched

by Lori Foster

  He turned to face her, his look questioning.

  She cleared her throat. His biceps were large and thick and she knew even both her hands wouldn’t circle him completely. She lightly caressed him and her breathing hitched. She was so damn ignorant about this sort of thing. “Harry, I really do appreciate all you did tonight. Not that I couldn’t have handled it on my own—”

  “But it was nice to have the company? My sentiments exactly.”

  She tilted her head, searching for the right words. This entire situation was awkward for her, because she’d never really wanted anyone before. “I know you said you don’t want to get involved, and I feel the same way.”

  His entire expression softened. “Charlie—”

  “No, you don’t need to explain. I understand. But… ”

  “But what?”

  His voice was low, the words gentle. She could feel him looking down at her, and so she mustered her courage, looked him straight in the eye, and said, “But I want you. There. I said it.”

  He stared, shock plain on his face, and she took advantage of it, throwing herself against him. She felt his arms automatically catch her, and she kissed him while his mouth was still open in surprise. He was motionless only a moment, then he turned, pinned her to the wall, and with a low deep groan, proceeded to kiss her silly.

  Bewitched

  CHAPTER SIX

  ************************************************************************************************

  Harry entered the hospital with his heart in his throat and his pulse racing. The day, which had begun with no indications of a catastrophe, continued to slide rapidly downhill. Actually, he thought, he was well into a new day. Surely things would begin improving, surely Dalton would be all right.

  A nurse directed him to the CCU, or coronary care unit, and the name alone made Harry break out in a sweat. A heart attack, Dalton had suffered a heart attack. He felt sick with anxiety and throbbing guilt.

  It took him mere seconds to reach the right room, and as soon as he was close enough, he could hear Dalton complaining. He increased his pace, rushed into the room, then came to a standstill.

  Dalton, pale and obviously agitated, was in a sterile white bed, oxygen hooked up to his nose, other apparatus connected in various places. He fought to sit up while a nurse struggled to keep him still. Harry drew himself up and said, “What is going on here?”

  The nurse looked at him with utter and complete relief, then asked hopefully, “Harry Lonnigan?”

  “Yes.” He stepped forward and nudged her out of the way, giving Dalton a glare. “Be still.”

  Dalton rested back with a smile.

  The nurse heaved a heartfelt sigh of relief. “He needs to be resting, but he was insistent on seeing you. I told him we’d left a message for you, but when you couldn’t be reached, he wanted to get out of bed and try calling you himself—”

  “I’m sorry for the delay. The storm knocked out my answering machine and I didn’t receive any message.” He frowned at Dalton. “I called your house and the housekeeper told me what happened. I got here as quickly as I could.”

  Dalton gripped his hand. “She contacted me, Harry.”

  Harry looked down at the man he loved like a father and winced. Dalton was still good-looking at fifty-nine, tall, lean, with only a smidge of gray mixed in with his dark hair. He’d always looked so vital to Harry, but now, he looked shrunken and frail. “Who contacted you?”

  “My daughter.”

  Everything in Harry jolted. His wits jumped about hither and yon, his heart thumped. He cast a quick glance at the nurse, then squeezed Dalton’s hand. To the nurse he asked, “Can I speak with you in just a moment? I’d like to be updated—”

  She patted Harry’s arm. “Get your father settled, then come out. I’ll be at the nurses’ station. But please—” and she bent a warning look on Dalton “—he needs to be still and calm.”

  Harry nodded. “I’ll see to it. And thank you.”

  The nurse went out, closing the door behind her. Harry hadn’t bothered explaining to her that Dalton wasn’t his father. In all the most important ways, he’d been the only father Harry knew.

  The room was silent, with an acoustical ceiling and floor, good lighting, and a variety of electrical, suction, and other outlets. Monitors were hooked up to Dalton, and other assorted machinery sat at the ready. Overall, it should have been a distressing sight, but to Harry, it showed the competent level of emergency care available, giving him a sense of security. Dalton wouldn’t die. He was well cared for here.

  Harry scooted a narrow chair closer to Dalton’s bed and seated himself. He had a feeling a lot had happened that he wasn’t aware of.

  Dalton gave him a shaky smile. “I got a letter from my daughter today. The oldest one, Charlotte.” His smile widened. “She’s a gutsy little gal. Do you know what she said? She said I owed her a lot of back child support and she wanted to claim it. She said she would claim it. What about that?”

  Harry winced, both at the name Dalton called his daughter, and the irony of the situation. So Charlie had sent her father a letter. That was likely her reason for being in the store in the first place. She’d been waiting, Harry remembered, peeking out the window on occasion. And Dalton’s jewelry store was directly across the street from the grocery. The little witch. Had she hoped to see her father’s reaction?

  Would she be happy with the results?

  He no sooner thought it than he shook off the disturbing notion. Charlie wanted what she considered her due, but she didn’t strike him as the type to wish actual harm on anyone. Well, except maybe Floyd.

  Dalton cleared his throat. “The girls… they’re alone now. Charlotte told me in the letter that her mother recently passed away.”

  “I’m sorry, Dalton.”

  “It was a hell of a shock, reading that letter and knowing in my gut what my girls have gone through. Rose wasn’t much when she was around, but she was still their mother. Damn, if only I could have found them.”

  Harry wondered where to begin, but before he could finish formulating his thoughts, Dalton actually laughed. “Here I was, watching for a sign from you, then that damn letter arrived. I could hardly believe it—liked to stop my heart.”

  Oh God. “From what your housekeeper told me, it almost did stop your heart.”

  “Ha! Now that I know I’m this close to getting my girls back, there’s no way I’m going to let a little heart trouble stop me.”

  Harry stared at Dalton, that ha! sounding all too familiar. He wondered if Charlie had inherited the blunt expletive from her father.

  “No sir,” Dalton continued, full of vehemence. “I’m going to make it up to them, everything they missed out on because I wasn’t there. But Harry, I still don’t know where they are. The letter didn’t say. So I was hoping you could… ”

  Harry decided before he could say anything, he needed all the details on Dalton’s condition. He patted the older man’s hand, then slowly stood to pace. “Everything will work out, Dalton, you’ll see. As soon as I find out about you, we’ll talk about the letter and what to do next, okay?”

  “Damn right we’ll talk about it. It’s all I can think about.”

  “You need to rest, you know, if you want a chance to meet Charli—Charlotte.” He barely caught himself, then shook his head. “Promise me you’ll sit there quietly until I get back.”

  Dalton made a face. “What choice do I have? They’ve got me connected to so many wires, they know if I’m going to burp before I even do it!”

  “Good. I like it that way. Now sit tight and I’ll be right back.”

  It took Harry about ten minutes to find out that Dalton had suffered a mild heart attack, although mild wasn’t really descriptive of the condition. Dalton had evidently suffered some discomfort through the night, including dizziness, but being the stubborn cuss Harry knew him to be, he’d ignored the problems, determined to be at the shop that day to observe Harry’s meeting
with Floyd and Ralph.

  The nurse didn’t know what had upset Dalton, only that a customer had called the paramedics when he’d turned deathly pale and grew nauseous. They took an EKG as soon as he reached the hospital, and then had to insist that Dalton not leave when they found evidence of a heart attack. He kept claiming he had important things to do.

  Harry had to shake his head. What rotten timing for Dalton.

  The nurse explained that a cardiologist on call had been in to see Dalton, and that they would continue monitoring him throughout the night. He had no prior history of problems and was basically a healthy man.

  In the morning they’d check his cardiac enzymes and see how his heart rhythm had done through the night, which would tell them more.

  Though the nurse was reassuring, Harry still worried. It took him another five minutes to figure out what he wanted to say to Dalton about Charlie, censuring it in his mind so as not to upset him further. Such an awful situation. He could almost be angry at Charlie, except that her life hadn’t been an easy one, and she’d obviously been led to believe her father hadn’t cared. Under those circumstances, she could hardly be blamed for her actions.

  Dalton’s face was turned away, staring out a window when Harry returned. He immediately turned to face him, and that damn smile was back on his face. “You need to read the letter, Harry. It’s in my pants pocket, over there in the cabinet. Take it home with you for safekeeping.”

  Harry retrieved the letter and stuck it in his pocket. “I’ll take care of the letter, Dalton, don’t worry about that. But first I need to tell you something.”

  Dalton blinked. “Well, damn, I’d forgotten all about Floyd and Ralph and those other idiots. How did it go? You didn’t have any trouble with them, did you? I got that damn letter, had the attack and the next thing I knew I was in here and no one would listen to me when I said I had to call you.”

  “I’m really sorry about that. You know if I’d gotten the message, nothing could have kept me away.”

  “Of course I know it. That’s why I was worried about you when you didn’t show up right away.”

  Harry swallowed hard. “I have to tell you something, Dalton.”

  “Out with it. I’m not so delicate I’ll swoon, you know.”

  “Well, to come right to the point, I met your daughter today.”

  Dalton lurched, he was so surprised, and Harry rushed to soothe him. “Settle down now before they throw me out of here.”

  “But I don’t understand! You met her? Where?”

  “In the grocery. She was there, evidently waiting to see your reaction to her letter, though I didn’t know she’d sent a letter. I didn’t… ah, find out she was your daughter until much later.”

  “This is incredible!”

  “Yes, I know.” Harry didn’t mean to sound facetious, but the whole situation was too ironic. That last kiss that Charlie had forced on him—forced, ha!—had damn near killed him. He’d forgotten himself, and within a heartbeat he’d had her pressed against the stairwell wall, her small hands clutching him, her hips squirming against his, inciting his lust, making him hard. Damn. Even now he gasped with the pleasure of it. Never in his adult years had he been hit by so much uncontrollable lust. He’d tasted Charlie and wanted to go on tasting her, everywhere, all over her small sweet body. He could have spent hours doing just that.

  He shook, remembering.

  He’d been a hairsbreadth away from taking her right there in the stairwell, and probably would have if a commotion in the bar hadn’t jolted him out of his lust-induced stupor.

  After that, he’d all but run from her. And she’d actually had the gall to laugh at his predicament.

  He shook his head, wondering how he was ever going to be able to handle this absurd situation. A reluctant smile caught him unawares. “She’s something else, Dalton. A little bitty thing, barely reaching my shoulder.”

  “Everyone just barely reaches your shoulder, Harry. You’re what we average people call tall.”

  “She’s shorter than most, though. But you’re right about the guts. Ralph and Floyd tried to intimidate her, but she easily got the best of them. Calling her fearless would be a gross understatement.”

  Dalton shuddered. “Thank God you were there to keep her safe. If those hoodlums had hurt her… ”

  Harry had a feeling she might have done just fine on her own. Under no circumstances would he tell Dalton that she’d been dressed as a boy—or that he was the one who’d inadvertently blown her cover.

  Dalton drew a slow breath. “When I last saw her, she was nine, missing a few teeth, skinny as a twig, and loved football much more than dolls. Her mother kept her hair cut short so she wouldn’t have to spend time working the tangles out. If I remember it right, Charlotte begged her to do the cutting. She was the epitome of the American tomboy. Of course, she’s a young lady now, so none of that matters.

  “I worked too many long days back then, and I missed out on so much. Then I caught her mother cheating, found out it wasn’t even the first time, and when I sued for divorce, the witch ran off with my kids.”

  Harry left the chair to sit on the side of the bed. He clasped Dalton’s shoulder. “You can explain it all to her now, Dalton. She’ll understand. From the time I spent with her, I can tell she inherited her father’s intelligence.”

  “Did she mention me at all?”

  This was the tough part, but Harry didn’t see any way around a few truths. “As a matter of fact, she wanted to hire me to find out more about you.”

  “No fooling?” Dalton seemed pleased by his daughter’s curiosity.

  Harry nodded. “I didn’t say I already knew you. I wanted to give you the chance to tell her everything yourself.”

  “Did you… you know, get a feel for what she thinks of me? What her mother might have told her about me?”

  Harry hesitated, unsure just how far he could stretch the truth.

  “Out with it, Harry.” He grinned. “From her note, I’m already assuming she has a healthy chip on her shoulder where I’m concerned. And knowing her mother the way I did, I can easily guess at how she probably lied about me.”

  Helpless, Harry admitted, “I think that’s more the case than not. Charlie seemed under the impression you’d abandoned them.”

  “Charlie?”

  “That’s the name she goes by.”

  “Ridiculous! She has a lovely name.”

  Harry kept his opinion in check. By his way of thinking, Charlie suited her much better than the too reserved Charlotte. Of course, Dalton wasn’t reacquainted with her, so couldn’t yet know that.

  “Did she mention Jillian at all?”

  Ah, safer ground. “Actually, I met her. It’s a long story, and no, get that look out of your eye because I’m not telling it right now. You’ve had enough excitement for one day.”

  “Tyrant.”

  “I promise to fill you in on all the details tomorrow. But as to Jillian, she’s a lovely girl. Eighteen now, and the opposite of Charli—Charlotte. Tall, light brown hair. But the same blue eyes.”

  Dalton’s blue eyes crinkled at the corners with a huge smile. “I have an idea, Harry.”

  Harry rubbed his forehead with a sigh. The past several hours had depleted him sorely. He needed some sleep, he needed something to eat.

  He needed Charlie.

  His head snapped up with that errant thought, and he coughed. “Dalton, I’m sure if I go to her now and tell her what’s happened—”

  “No! You can’t do that. Why, she might blame herself for my ill health. Finding out the truth, that I didn’t leave her, is going to be enough of an adjustment. She’ll know her mother lied all along, that she kept us apart out of sheer spite. That’d be tough for any young lady to accept, especially now that Rose is gone and can’t admit the truth.”

  “Dalton, this particular young lady is tougher than shoe leather. Really. I don’t think—”

  “No. I tell you, it’d be too much. And if she t
hought she caused my heart attack—which of course she didn’t—”

  “Of course not,” Harry agreed with wry cynicism.

  “—she just might run off again. I can’t take that chance, now that I’m so close to being reunited with her. She just might leave without giving me time to explain.”

  From what Harry knew of Charlie, she wasn’t going anywhere without enough money to get her sister started in the college of her choice. The woman could vie with a herd of mules and come out ahead on stubbornness.

  “No,” Dalton continued, thinking out loud, “a better idea will be if you pretend to work for her.”

  “What?”

  He rubbed his hands together. “You can soften her up for me, Harry. Leave little hints about the past, pretend to uncover clues about how much I do care for her, to let her know I wasn’t just another neglectful father. Then she can get accustomed to the idea little by little. When she’s ready, you can arrange a meeting between us.”

  “You want me to lie to the girl?”

  Dalton managed a supreme look of affront. “Not blatant lying, no. Just little white lies, for the good of all of us. Besides, you’ve already lied to her by not admitting you know me, so don’t get sanctimonious on me now.”

  “Dalton, you’re not in the best of health. You’ve had a really rough day and you’re not thinking straight.” Besides, Harry wasn’t at all certain he could maintain a facade of indifference to Charlie. He wanted her, and being around her while resisting her would be an undeserved hell, especially as she seemed determined to seduce him—when she wasn’t doing her best to irritate him.

  Dalton slammed his fist down on the side of the bed. “I’m thinking just fine!”

  His actions reminded Harry so much of Charlie, how she’d slammed her own smaller fist down on his table, he almost grinned. Stubbornness definitely ran through the genes. Charlie had come by her obstinate nature legitimately. “Okay, so you’re impervious to health concerns, wise beyond your years and immortal to boot. I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”