With Valor and Devotion

by Charlotte Maclay

His pale eyes narrowed on her. “What’s wrong now?”

  “We’ve had a minor incident with one of our children. I know you like to be informed about injuries—”

  “Injuries?”

  “Randy Marshall broke his arm in a fall.” From a tree he shouldn’t have been climbing. “The break isn’t serious. He’s been treated and released from Community Hospital.”

  “Which we’re paying for, I assume.”

  “Yes, sir. That’s standard procedure.” Oden was very much in favor of standard procedures, even if they didn’t always make sense—which this one did. But he also didn’t like to spend the county’s money.

  “Let me see the file.”

  She placed it in his outstretched hand. He flipped through the pages in the file.

  “I don’t see the authorization for this foster parent, his background check. Has he worked with us before?”

  “Randy’s placement with Mr. Gables was a little unusual. We discussed it a week or so ago.”

  A scowl furrowed his forehead, and his lips curled into an even more pronounced shape of disapproval. “Didn’t I warn you at that time if anything went wrong, the onus would be on you?”

  “Yes, sir. But in this case, the accident could have occurred to any child. It’s impossible to put these children in a cotton-lined box. Things happen we can’t anticipate.”

  “Just how much are you involved with this man—this Gables person?”

  The heat that flooded her cheeks was a confession of guilt, but she didn’t honestly know how to answer the question. They’d become lovers, assuming you could count their one night together—which Kristin certainly did. But Mike didn’t believe in long-term commitments. That left her—and their relationship—very much in limbo.

  “We’ve become close,” she finally admitted.

  With exaggerated care, Oden closed the file. “I believe you were adequately warned, did not heed that warning, and the result has been an injured child. Therefore, since you’ve already received a written warning for overstepping your bounds, I see no recourse but to suspend you for three days, without pay. Naturally, you have a right to appeal my decision through your union representative.”

  “You’re suspending me?” she gasped.

  “I’m also going to reassign this case—” He glanced at the label on the file folder. “—Randy Marshall will now be the responsibility of Mary Jane Pendrick. If there are any repercussions about this situation, I don’t want the taint of personal involvement. Do you understand me?”

  “I think you’re overreacting, Mr. Oden.” She forced herself to keep a rational tone, to sound under control, rather than respond to the urge to lash out at her superior. “Little boys have accidents. They break bones now and then. It doesn’t mean the foster father was acting irresponsibly.”

  “That will be all, Ms. McCoy.” He rose from his chair. “I’ll see you in three days. Please pass this file on to Ms. Pendrick.”

  “If you lay me off for three days, I’ll be even further behind in my—”

  “Good day, Ms. McCoy.”

  Her mouth worked but no sound came out. Just as well. She’d probably be screaming at the man.

  Whirling, she marched out of the office. Mary Jane Pendrick was one of the senior social workers in the section, which meant she had more tenacity than most—or a tougher skin. Kristin halted at the entrance of Mary Jane’s cubicle.

  “I’ve been suspended for three days and this case has been transferred to you.”

  Slowly, Mary Jane swivelled around, her bulk causing the chair to complain with a loud moan. “I don’t actually need any more cases.” Her desk was piled about as high as Kristin’s.

  “I’m sorry. Mr. Oden’s orders.”

  Accepting the file, she flipped through the pages, including the report on Randy’s injury. “The boy’s all right?”

  “He’ll be fine.”

  She raised her gaze to Kristin, intense hazel eyes hardened by too many years in the trenches of Children’s Services. “What’s happening with the boy’s family?”

  “His mother is apparently deceased. The investigators are still looking for any other relatives but they haven’t come up with anything yet.”

  “Probably won’t either. Let’s get this young man into Adoption Day at the park next Sunday. Looks like he’d be a good candidate.”

  Kristin panicked. Adoption Days were conducted in informal settings where prospective adoptive parents could meet a variety of children. The hope was that something would click and good matches would be found for the older children in the system, who were much more difficult to place than infants. Despite knowing Randy might indeed find a permanent family this way, Kristin’s heart ached at the thought of taking the boy away from Mike. “He hasn’t been ruled available yet,” she said. “He may still have family—”

  “The courts move a lot faster if there’s a family interested in adopting a child. No point in having the boy languishing in foster care if we can—”

  “He’s not languishing,” Kristin said defensively. “He’s flourishing under Mr. Gables’s care.”

  “Does that mean Gables is a prospective adoptive parent?”

  “Well, no. He only intends to keep the boy temporarily, and his living arrangements aren’t ideal for a family.” Being surrounded by swinging singles wasn’t what Kristin envisioned as the perfect home environment—in most cases. So far, Mike seemed to be the exception to the rule.

  “Well, then—” Mary Jane tossed the file on her desk and turned back to the case she’d been working on. “I’ll register the child for Adoption Day, and we’ll see where we can go from there.”

  Kristin wanted to object. Mike and Randy belonged together, although Mike hadn’t admitted that yet. Still, she didn’t think he’d be thrilled at the prospect of Randy finding a new home.

  But Randy was no longer a part of Kristin’s caseload. She’d have to leave those decisions up to Mary Jane.

  Even worse, she was afraid that if she made another error in judgment in Oden’s view, he’d fire her. Then she’d have to find some other way to help children like Randy who were so desperately in need of protection—and love. And Bobby’s all-too-brief life would mean less than nothing.

  Her chin trembled. She couldn’t let that happen.

  MIKE STRETCHED and yawned. Afternoon cartoons on TV weren’t nearly as much fun as they used to be. Not that Randy seemed to mind as he sat cross-legged on the floor, hypnotized by the action on the screen. Suzie was equally engrossed.

  Someone knocked on his apartment door, and Mike glanced at his watch. Too early for Kristin. A neighbor maybe.

  He opened the door to find Doug Jones standing on his doorstep. A former biker with long hair and tattoos, he’d settled down with his girlfriend a couple of years ago, taking over duties as the apartment complex’s manager.

  “Hi, Doug.” Mike stepped outside, pulling the door shut behind him. “What can I do for you?”

  “Had a couple of complaints, buddy.”

  Mike lifted his eyebrows innocently. “About me?”

  “They’re saying you’ve got a kid and a dog staying with you.”

  Who had squealed on him, he wondered, shooting a glance towards Tammilee’s door. “It’s only temporary. Sort of an emergency.”

  “Is the kid a relative?”

  “Not exactly,” Mike hedged.

  “You know the rules. No kids. No dogs, and this one’s been doing some barking when you’re gone. You’re gonna have to do something, buddy.”

  “Right. Can you give me a couple of days to make different arrangements?”

  “Couple of days, but no more than that. You know how it is about rules. If you let one person break ’em then things get out of hand.”

  “Yeah. Sure.” And being an apartment-house manager, reformed biker or not, didn’t change the fact that Doug Jones had become a damn bureaucrat who had forgotten some rules were meant to be broken.

  Mike went back into the
apartment and grabbed a cold drink from the refrigerator. It was a warm summer day but he was hot for other reasons. What the hell was he going to do with Randy now? He didn’t want to lose the kid. He’d even grown to like that silly-looking dog of Randy’s. Ah, hell! How had he gotten himself in a knot over some six-year-old kid? That had never been his style.

  He’d never felt quite the way he did about Kristin with any other woman either. Since he’d rescued the boy, something weird had been happening to him. He felt uncomfortable in his own skin and his libido had been going off the Richter Scale.

  A moment later, when someone knocked on his door, he nearly squeezed the can of pop in half. Why couldn’t people leave him alone? He had some serious thinking to do.

  He yanked open the door ready to tell whoever was standing there to get lost, but the words froze in his throat.

  Kristin, her cheeks pale, her eyes hollow and red-rimmed, looked as though she’d been run through an emotional wringer.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Kristin! What’s wrong?”

  With a sob, she stepped into his embrace. She’d been so upset about her suspension and risk of dismissal, she’d barely gotten out of the office before the dam of tears had broken. A bad case of PMS, she told herself. But she knew it was more than that. Her life, which she’d tried so hard to keep on an even keel these past few years, had been turned upside down by Mike and a little boy. Her emotions were on a ragged edge, and she didn’t know how it would all end.

  “I know I’m early. I d-didn’t know where else to go.”

  “Aw, sweetheart, tell me what happened.” Pulling her inside, he kicked the door closed behind her.

  “I’ve been s-suspended. I could get fired.”

  His arms closed fiercely around her. He was so strong, so rock-solid. She tried to absorb his strength and the courage that made him so heroic. But she felt weak. Vulnerable. As if she’d carried a terrible load on her shoulders for too long and it was weighing her down.

  “It’s because of me, isn’t it? Me and Randy?”

  “You haven’t done anything wrong. Mr. Oden is just—”

  “A bureaucrat with a stack of rules he thinks he has to follow.”

  Her head resting on Mike’s shoulder, she nodded.

  “Are they going to take the boy away?”

  “I don’t want to go!” Randy screamed. “I wanna stay with Mike!”

  “Oh, Randy,” she cried. Startled that she hadn’t noticed the child was in the room, she quickly broke away from Mike and knelt in front of Randy. Tears were already filling his young eyes and threatening to spill over. “I’ve talked with your new social worker—”

  “I don’t want a new social worker neither. I want you!” Now the tears did escape, making rivulets down his smudged cheeks.

  “Shh, it’s going to be all right.” She embraced the boy. Kneeling, Mike joined them in a three-way hug with Suzie sticking her cold, wet nose into the middle of the loving circle. Whatever were they going to do? Their time together wasn’t meant to be permanent; they shouldn’t have let their emotions become involved. Too many other forces were at work that would tear them apart. Kristin, at least, had known better from the start.

  And in violating her own code of conduct, she’d put Randy at risk. Her reassurances that things would be all right sounded very much like a lie.

  THEY MANAGED to get Randy calmed down and their own emotions back in check in time to have dinner—pork chops a` la Chef Gables with applesauce on the side. Kristin had to admit it would be easy to get used to having a man cook her dinner every night—if the man believed in commitment. But with Randy at the dinner table, she hadn’t been able to explain the ramifications of why she’d been so upset.

  Shortly after dinner, while Kristin did the dishes, Mike gave Randy a bath, making sure the boy’s cast was well wrapped in a plastic bag.

  When Mike came downstairs, he found Kristin curled up on the couch, her shoes on the floor. He collapsed beside her, looped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. The faint scent of her citrus shampoo teased at his senses.

  “Randy ready to be tucked in?” she asked.

  “He’s already out like a light. The doctor thought he might have trouble sleeping for a couple of nights and gave me some medicine to give him. He didn’t even last through page two of the story he picked out for me to read.”

  “After we talk, I’ll check on him. Then I’ll have to go.”

  Mike tensed. “I don’t want you to go.”

  “The more involved we become, the more complicated our situation—or at least mine—will get.”

  “I think we’re pretty much involved already.”

  She lifted her head from his shoulder, her eyes a deep mysterious green touched by a hint of wariness. “We are?”

  He knew what she was asking, but he didn’t have the words to express his feelings. He was too darn messed up himself—or maybe too scared—by what was happening to him. So he did the only thing he knew how to do. He kissed her. She resisted a moment as though still struggling with some other problem, then surrendered to his kiss, giving him all the passion that was so innately hers.

  He’d been thinking about kissing her all day—her sweet flavor, the warmth of her lips, the tiny moan she made deep in her throat as she became aroused. He’d thought about kissing her—making love to her—so much, he’d nearly unmanned himself when he slipped and fell while pushing Randy on the merry-go-round at the park.

  Tugging her blouse out of her suit skirt, he splayed his hand underneath, across the silken fabric of her slip. Her skin was just as silky, just as smooth, and he’d thought about that all day, too. Wanting to get his hands on her. All over her. Without anything between him and her bare skin.

  The fly of his jeans constricted him so painfully, he thought the buttons might pop. Just kissing her, caressing her, wasn’t going to solve that problem.

  With a quick shifting of his position, he lifted her in his arms.

  She gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes almost black, the same green shade as the deepest sea. “What are you doing?”

  “Practicing my fire-rescue technique.” He headed for the stairs.

  “Do you always rescue women like this?” she asked in a low, husky voice.

  “Usually I carry them downstairs, not up. But in your case I decided to make an exception.”

  “I take it I should be pleased?”

  “I’ll make sure you’re more than satisfied.”

  “That’s what I like about you—your lack of self-confidence.”

  He closed and latched the door, then lowered her feet to the floor. The bedside lamp was on, casting the room in subdued shadows. He was going to leave the light on while he made love to Kristin this time. He wanted to see her, watch her as she climaxed and came apart in his arms. He wanted her eyes open, too, so she’d know who was loving her.

  He kissed her while his fingers released the buttons on her blouse; she kissed him back, tugging his shirt from his jeans. She had a sense of urgency about her tonight, an eagerness that went beyond ordinary sex—as if she thought this would be the last time they made love.

  Damn! He didn’t want that to be true.

  They stepped apart, and he yanked his shirt off over his head; she dropped her blouse to the floor. His jeans ended up there too.

  “I don’t seem to have any resistance to you,” she whispered. She released the zipper on her skirt and stepped out of it, leaving her wearing a lacy slip and sexy white underwear. Pure innocence in a provocative body.

  “The feeling’s mutual, princess. You do something to me no other woman has ever done.”

  “I’ve always been an overachiever.”

  Grinning, he scooped her into his arms again. “I’ll make every effort to keep up with you.”

  He laid her down on the bed and began a sensual attack, kissing every inch of bare flesh he exposed. His lips caressed the silk of her skin whil
e her fingers kneaded his scalp, urging him on.

  He didn’t want to rush her, but his need was too intense, too painful to linger long over the delicious flavor of her skin. As soon as he’d rid her of her cotton panties, he grabbed a condom from the bedside table, sheathed himself and entered her. It felt like coming home.

  Covering her face with kisses, he watched as her breathing grew ragged, her body moving beneath his a perfect rhythm. Then she contracted around him, squeezing, drawing from him all that he had to give as she called out his name.

  “Princess.” With a low growl that vibrated in his chest, he let himself go.

  MIKE’S HAND rested on her midsection. Kristin rubbed her fingertip along the ridged scar, then lifted his hand and kissed his badge of youthful bravery.

  “Mmm,” he muttered sleepily.

  “Thank you for rescuing me. I like your technique.”

  “Anytime.” Stirring, he raised himself on one elbow. “You never had a chance to tell me what happened this afternoon. It must have been bad. You were pretty upset when you got here.”

  “I don’t think you’re going to be pleased, either.” She told him what Mr. Oden had said and that Mary Jane intended to have Randy at Adoption Day. “It’s a nice program we do to introduce prospective families to—”

  “I know what Adoption Day is.” He surged out of bed and stood, anger rolling off him in waves, his body as starkly beautiful as a bronze statue in an art gallery. “The fire department provides the entertainment. Engines for the kids to climb on. Helmets to wear. And the wives serve hot dogs and ice cream to the kids. But there’s no way in hell I want Randy paraded around for would-be parents to gawk at.”

  Sitting, she pulled the rumpled sheet up to cover herself. “It’s not like that.”

  “Sure it is. I’ve worked that shift. Hell, I got dragged to that same kind of deal by my social worker when I was about twelve.”

  “And no one wanted you?” she ventured quietly, hearing the pain in his voice.

  “I didn’t want them. I was doing just fine on my own.”

  A loner even then, she thought, and that hadn’t changed in the intervening years. “Randy needs someone.”