With Valor and Devotion

by Charlotte Maclay

  Randy needed a real family—mother and father, maybe a couple of siblings. A permanent family, his own blood relatives, if he had any, assuming they had the decency to want the boy and were willing to take care of him properly.

  Which brought Mike back to the mystery couple Randy had been living with. Where the hell were they? And why hadn’t they tried to claim the kid? Surely the police or Kristin’s cohorts would come up with a lead soon.

  Meanwhile, Mike would take care of Randy for a couple of days, and he’d trust Kristin to find the boy a suitable place to stay were he could keep Suzie. Admittedly, Mike wasn’t real good at trusting people, particularly social workers. But in this case, it was the only choice both he and Randy had.

  He slid the dirty soup bowls into the over-full dishwasher and was about to turn on the machine when there was another knock on the door.

  Probably one of his fellow tenants who’d seen his lights on, he imagined as he dried his hands on a tea towel. Tammilee was always asking him over for a drink or inviting him for a swim. Cute girl, too. Pert nose. Pert breasts. Pert personality, but not someone he particularly wanted to see tonight. Not when the light scent of citrus still hung in the air in his apartment, hinting at intimate possibilities Mike didn’t think he should be considering.

  He opened the door.

  “I’ve changed my mind.” As Kristin shoved past him like a linebacker on a blitz, Mike’s mouth gaped open.

  He shut his mouth and started arguing. “You can’t wake that kid from a deep sleep and drag him back to—”

  She whirled toward him. “I don’t intend to take Randy anywhere—at the moment. But I don’t plan to lose my job over this, either. Which is exactly what would happen if I left my client in an unsupervised situation in an unapproved household.”

  The fire in her eyes managed to disconnect Mike’s ability to follow her reasoning. “So what are you going to do?”

  With a stubborn lift of her chin, she said, “I’m staying here with him—to supervise his well-being. I’m going to do my job.”

  Clearly her heat was frying part of his brain because that didn’t make any sense at all. “Here? You’re staying here? Overnight?”

  “Is there an echo in here? Yes, I’m spending the night right here with you.”

  The possibilities were suddenly endless. Kristin staying here, in his apartment. Overnight. “I admit your offer is an unexpected pleasure, princess, but I’m not sure we’re ready for—”

  She glared at him. “I also intend to sleep on the couch.”

  “Oh, no, I wouldn’t think of being such a poor host.” Having considerable experience with women under his belt, he felt as if he’d finally found a piece of solid ground on which to stand. A little encouragement. A few sweet words. “My bed’s plenty big enough—”

  “Don’t even go there, buster. Our relationship is strictly professional. You’re a foster parent, albeit an unauthorized one, and I am the supervising social worker with responsibility for my client.”

  That wasn’t the reaction he’d expected after practically being propositioned by the woman. “Have you noticed how hung up you are on rules?”

  “That’s probably why I was named Employee of the Month three times last year.”

  He rolled his eyes. Just what he needed—a conscientious bureaucrat moving into his apartment, even temporarily. One that was so damn sexy when she got fired up, he wanted to heft her over his shoulder in a firefighter carry and haul her upstairs where she belonged. In his bed. With him. Where he could have his way with her and where she could reciprocate with the passion that was so apparent in her eyes.

  Not that he seriously thought that would happen anytime soon. But the image was interesting to contemplate. So interesting his damn jeans felt like they had shrunk a couple of sizes.

  She tossed her clutch purse and one of those leather-bound day calendars on the end table. “Now, if you could direct me to the rest room, and find me an extra blanket, I’d like to go to bed. It’s quite late.”

  “Kristin, you’re not sleeping on my couch.”

  “It’s that or I’m taking the boy out of here right now. Which reminds me. I have to make a phone call. I have to let the Gramercys know Randy is fine and I’ll be in touch in the next day or so.”

  “You can use the extension in my bedroom.”

  “That’s not necessary. The one in the kitchen will be—”

  “Kristin!” he bellowed.

  She’d been heading toward the wall phone in the kitchen and came to an abrupt halt. Her head snapped around. “What?”

  “I’ll take the couch.” No way would he get any sleep with her in his apartment, not with his libido doing a number on him just as it had at the boat. In his view, Kristin was a menace to a man’s sleep under almost any circumstance. And one of them ought to get a few winks or they’d both be total losses tomorrow. “That way if Randy wakes up in the middle of the night, you’ll hear him. Women are—” he shrugged, “—better at that middle-of-the-night stuff than men are.”

  She eyed him with a fair amount of skepticism. “He obviously trusts you.”

  “Just do it, princess. I changed the sheets a couple of days ago, but if you want—”

  “They’ll be fine, I’m sure.”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Can you find the way on your own?”

  Her gaze connected with his, and he saw a moment of hesitation, maybe even temptation. She licked her lips, almost undoing him when the pink tip of her tongue swept into view. Damn, it was going to be a long night.

  “Yes.” Her voice had lost its bravado, its determined edge, suddenly becoming husky. Vulnerable. “I can find my own way.”

  “Great. There’s a new toothbrush in the drawer to the right of the sink. And you can use one of my T-shirts to sleep in, if you’d like.”

  “Thank you. Do you need anything from—”

  “I’ll manage down here.” Though there were a lot of things he needed, he didn’t think now was the time to ask.

  TOOTHBRUSH in hand, Kristin glanced around Mike’s bathroom. Her brothers were sloppy, their apartments disaster areas.

  Mike was neat. Even his medicine cabinet, where she found some aspirin for her niggling headache, was well organized, every bottle facing forward so the labels were legible. It shouldn’t trouble her that he seemed so well prepared for unexpected overnight guests. At least he hadn’t offered her a spare nightgown that he kept on hand for emergencies.

  Turning off the light by the bed, she crawled beneath the covers. His scent lingered on the pillow, musky and male. A natural fragrance that blended with a residual hint of detergent. There was nothing artificial about the man and everything tempting about him.

  Tempting for a woman who hadn’t slept with a man in years. She didn’t dare let her extended, self-imposed celibacy cloud her reason. He had charming heart-breaker written all over him—just like Bobby’s father. Kristin’s heart had suffered enough damage for a lifetime. She didn’t want to go through that again for any man.

  Even so, as she stared wide-eyed up at the ceiling, she wondered what would happen if she changed her mind about sharing the bed with him. Would he be a gentle lover? Or would he take her quickly and fiercely, as though attacking a fire he was determined to conquer?

  Her body reacted to that thought with a low clenching of its own, and she remembered the feel of his hand slipping beneath her wet suit, sliding perilously close to her breasts. Her nipples puckered, and she closed her eyes against the erotic sensation. Her skin warmed.

  With her imagination at full throttle, she’d need more than a couple of aspirins to help her get to sleep anytime soon. Although a few rounds of vigorous lovemaking would probably do the trick.

  She groaned and flopped over onto her stomach. Life would be so much easier if she weren’t so damned conscientious about her job.

  And so desperately lonely for someone to love.

  THE SIGHT OF Mike and Randy sitting at the break
fast bar the next morning, their heads together as they examined a silly toy from a cereal box, made Kristin’s knees go weak. The two of them created a picture that belonged in a family photo album or framed and displayed in a place of honor on the mantelpiece.

  Dear heaven, how could such a macho, athletic man—an inveterate flirt—be so gentle with a child? If she’d been tempted to ask him to join her in his big bed last night, his appeal was even more potent now.

  She cleared her throat. “Good morning, gentlemen.”

  In unison, they both looked up. Mike gave her a lazy smile that brought a sparkle to his eyes—and a troubling quiver to Kristin’s nether regions.

  Randy scowled. “I’m not goin’ back.”

  Cupping the boy’s shoulder in a reassuring gesture, Mike said, “We’ve been talking about how Randy’s going to be responsible for taking care of Suzie while she’s here. He’s going to feed her and clean up after her, aren’t you, son?”

  “We’re gonna go get her this morning.” The boy’s jaw jutted out, challenging Kristin to argue with him.

  “Yes, I know.” She headed for the coffeepot to help herself. “But you really shouldn’t have run away from the Gramercys. They were very worried about you.”

  His lower lip puffed out. “They were gonna kill Suzie.”

  “No, honey, no one was going to kill Suzie. I’d already talked to the man in charge at the animal shelter. And I’m still trying to find a family who can take both you and your dog.”

  “I want to stay with Mike.”

  Her gaze slid up to meet Mike’s. “I don’t think that’s going to be possible, Randy.”

  Before the boy could respond, Mike said, “Come on, son. Eat up. We can’t go to the pound till you eat your breakfast. A man needs his strength.”

  With a final distrustful look at Kristin, Randy went to work on his cereal.

  Mike slid off his bar stool. “What can I get you? I can whip up a pretty fair omelet, if you’d like.”

  “Toast is fine for me, and some juice, if you have it.”

  Deftly, he dropped two slices of whole wheat bread into the toaster, tugged open the refrigerator, hauled out butter and jam, a carton of juice, and had everything on the counter when the toast popped up.

  “I’m impressed.” Carrying her coffee cup, she settled on a stool next to Randy. “Looks like you’re an experienced short-order cook.”

  “Nope. Just years of taking care of myself.”

  “I see.” Evidently in foster homes where the mom wasn’t too attentive.

  He slid the plate with buttered toast cut in triangles in front of her. “And since I’m a confirmed bachelor who’s allergic to commitment, I figure I’m going to be muddling along on my own for a long time to come.”

  “What’s a ’firmed bach-ler?” Randy asked.

  Mike leaned his elbow on the breakfast bar in front of the boy. “It means a man who’s not ever planning to marry.”

  “I’m not gonna marry. Girls are yucky!”

  “Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that.” Chuckling, Mike ruffled the boy’s hair. “One more bite, big guy. Then we gotta get ready to go so we can spring Suzie from the calaboose.”

  Randy giggled.

  Kristin’s toast turned to cardboard in her mouth. She knew exactly what Mike was doing—letting her know that whatever relationship might develop between them, which was exactly none as far as she was concerned, didn’t have a prayer of going anywhere. He didn’t believe in commitment.

  That was no big surprise, she told herself. A man who played the field as expertly as he did wouldn’t be interested in settling down. Ever.

  Not that she cared.

  If she ever married—which seemed an unlikely prospect at the moment—she’d want a good, solid man. A boring man, if need be. Not a smooth talker who flirted with anything wearing a skirt.

  With a stubborn lift of her chin, she tried to ignore the wave of disappointment that washed over her. Mike Gables would never be the right man for her.

  Chapter Five

  If Randy hadn’t been trapped in the jump seat of Mike’s truck, he would have leaped out the moment they arrived in the animal shelter’s parking lot and he heard the dogs barking in their kennels.

  “Easy, big guy,” Mike admonished him as he parked the truck in front of the one-story brick building and shut off the engine. “We gotta go in the office first and sign some paperwork.” He slanted Kristin a glance. “That’s how bureaucrats do things.”

  She bristled slightly. “Yes, and aren’t we glad the animal control officers don’t give the dogs away willy-nilly to just anyone who shows up at their door?” Climbing down from the truck, Kristin held the passenger seat forward so Randy could get out.

  A worried frown creased his youthful forehead. “Would they give Suzie away to somebody else?”

  “No, they wouldn’t. Because they know Suzie is Randy Marshall’s dog. And that’s why they make us fill out forms, so they’re sure you’re the right person.”

  “Suzie would tell ’em if she could talk.”

  “I’m sure she would, sweetheart.” Unable to resist, she slid her hand over the boy’s shoulder. He was so slender, he almost appeared undernourished, his fragile bones apparent beneath his T-shirt. Someone had rolled the cuffs of his jeans up, but still they dragged on the ground; the waist was too big, and he had to hike them up to keep them from falling off. Kristin had an urge to take Randy home and fatten him up with more than a bowl of cereal—homemade cookies and ice cream, hamburgers and fries, if that’s what he wanted. Then she’d hold and cuddle him until he lost that wary shadow in his dark eyes. A specter not unlike the one that sometimes appeared in Mike’s eyes as well.

  A man who didn’t believe in commitment.

  Inside the office, a slim, middle-aged woman with graying hair greeted them from behind the counter, her name tag indicating she was Bette Larkin, a volunteer. “Hello there, what can I do for you folks?”

  Randy spoke right up. “We came to get Suzie. She’s my dog and she misses me.”

  “I’m sure she does, young man. And did you forget to keep her in the yard, is that why she’s here?”

  “The firemens brought her here after she almost burned up.”

  Ms. Larkin looked a little startled.

  “I’ve spoken with your shelter manager,” Kristin assured the woman, pulling her ID from her purse. “You’ve been holding Suzie until I could make arrangements for the boy and his dog. I’m his social worker.”

  “Oh, I thought…you and this gentlemen looked, well—” Ms. Larkin’s cheeks took on a rosy shade. “I thought you all were a family. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” Mike inserted. “She’s my parole officer, too, and you know what they say about mixing business with pleasure.”

  Ms. Larkin’s face flamed even more brightly.

  Kristin rolled her eyes, although it was all she could do not to laugh out loud—or wince at the punch of regret that they weren’t really a family. “Ignore him. If you’d just find the paperwork for Suzie, we’ll sign off on whatever we need to do and be on our way.”

  Thoroughly flustered, the volunteer scurried around to find the necessary papers. Mike agreed to pay for the cost of sheltering the dog—over Kristin’s objection that the county would pay for it. Then they went out to the kennels with an animal control officer.

  “Suzie!”

  The moment he spotted his dog, Randy raced ahead of them. And the poor dog was so excited to see him, Kristin thought Suzie might dislocate her back end from her front, she was wagging her tail so vigorously. The keeper unlocked the cage. Simultaneously, boy and dog lunged for each other and ended up rolling around on the concrete walkway, hugging and laughing and barking wildly.

  Kristin felt Mike’s arm loop around her shoulders, and he pulled her firmly up against him.

  “You ever see an uglier mutt than that?” he asked, eyeing the unkempt collie-terrier combination. Despite his words, his voic
e sounded low and rocky, filled with emotion.

  Kristin’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Never,” she whispered, knowing the love of a child was the most powerful force in the entire world. It could move mountains or bring a grown man—or woman—to his knees.

  Her son Bobby hadn’t lived long enough to love a dog.

  With a silent sob locked in her throat, she turned away. Drawing a breath was as painful as if she had an anvil resting on her chest. How could it still hurt so much after so many years? The six most difficult years of her life.

  Mike managed to round up Randy and Suzie, get a loaner leash from the volunteer at the desk and usher everybody back to the truck. He was worried about Kristin. She’d gone as pale and silent as if she’d seen a ghost. All the usual stubborn spark had vanished from her eyes. He wasn’t sure what the hell had happened back there at the pound, and with Randy in the truck, he didn’t want to ask. But he was damn curious.

  “I have to check in at my office,” she said, her hands trembling as she clutched her purse. “Can you manage Randy on your own?”

  “Sure, that’s the whole idea. We’ll be fine, won’t we, big guy?” Glancing in the rearview mirror, he caught sight of Suzie licking Randy’s face as though it were the best-tasting doggy ice-cream cone in the world.

  “I’m glad nobody kilt Suzie,” the boy said, hugging his dog.

  “You have Ms. McCoy to thank for that, Randy. She made sure Suzie would be safe.”

  Randy’s reluctant gaze edged toward Kristin’s. “I guess she’s not so yucky after all—for a girl.”

  Mike swallowed a laugh. “Not yucky at all, son.”

  The tiniest threat of a smile lifted Kristin’s lips. “Thank you for your vote of confidence, gentlemen.”

  “You’re lucky to be hanging around with two such fine fellows who really know how to give a woman a compliment.”

  She arched a brow at him. “I’ll make a note of it in my diary.”