The Perfect Match. Kimberly Cates

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СКАЧАТЬ mourned Miss Marigold’s teapots more than ever after that. She adored whimsical designs, things to surprise smiles out of people when they least expected it. Like the birdhouse Rowena had hung outside her kitchen window: a cat with a red-checkered napkin tied around his neck, a fork and knife clutched in his paws and his mouth wide open, forming the hole for the bird to go in.

      That was the problem with the Lawless house. It had absolutely no sense of humor or wonder, an astonishing fact in light of the concrete poodle. The only thing vaguely human about the place was a straggly marigold at the bottom of the stairs.

      Rowena rolled down the van’s back window just enough to give Clancy a bit of fresh air then climbed out of the car. “Wait here, pal,” she said, straightening her clothes. She’d dressed sedately—at least for her. Black slacks, a sunshine yellow jacket she’d bought at an art fair and earrings she’d made herself out of art deco-era buttons. Best to look like a respectable member of society when she told Cash Lawless how to run his life, she thought with a wry smile.

      She climbed up the steep flight of stairs and made her way toward a front porch that caught the light in spite of the dismal house paint. The windows and doors were wide open, as if the house was gasping to drink in some of the beautiful September day beyond.

      But Rowena hadn’t even reached the door when she heard something that raked her nerves. Sounds coming through the screen. A child sobbing.

      “Hurts, Daddy!” Mac Lawless wailed. “You always hurt me!”

      “I know.” Cash Lawless’ rough-edged voice answered. “I know it’s tight, honey, but it’ll loosen up if you just—”

      The hairs on the back of Rowena’s neck stood on end. What in the world was he doing to the child?

      “I hate you when you hurt me!”

      “I hate myself.” Lawless said with fierce feeling. “But damn it, Mac, I won’t stop. Got that? I’ll never give up. Never. Now come on, sweetheart! Open your leg and—”

      Rowena’s stomach clenched with outrage at the child’s tears, terrified at what might be happening behind the gray walls. Dread overpowered caution. Without stopping to think, she wrenched the screen door open and plunged in. Stripped down to a sleeveless white T-shirt and running shorts, the deputy had the child pinned on the floor, his big hands curved around her ankles…

      “Leave her alone,” Rowena cried, lunging to grab him around the neck and pull him off the child. But Lawless’ reflexes were too good. Before she could get a solid grip he dodged to one side, catching her arm, using her own momentum against her. In a heartbeat she was hurtling over him, Mac’s shrieks piercing the air.

      Rowena flailed, kicked, terrified she’d crush Mac, but Lawless controlled her flight. One leg snagged something on a side table, the sound of glass shattering in its wake. Rowena caught a glimpse of something glittery, pink just a second before she collided with it.

      Cash swore, trying to help her avoid the blow, but it was too late. The object she’d hit careened over from the impact, taking her with it, a horrendous racket making her ears ring. Pain burned under Rowena’s right eye as she struggled to untangle herself from whatever she’d fallen on. But the instant her mind registered the lines and shape of it, her heart slammed to the floor.

      It was a wheelchair.

      A child-sized, glittery pink wheelchair.

      She pressed her hand over her mouth, feeling sick, feeling foolish, feeling like…well…like she was about to be slapped in handcuffs and hauled down to the hoosegow. For breaking and entering. Assaulting an officer. Not to mention vandalizing his property. She stared down at the hideous lamp she’d shattered—well, his really ugly property.

      Slowly she shifted her gaze to the little girl she’d been trying to defend. Mac-sized metal braces encircled the child’s tiny legs. Elastic exercise bands and miniature weights scattered the mat rolled out on the taupe carpet. Stuff for physical therapy.

      Cash Lawless faced her down like one of her sister Ariel’s bad-cop fantasies, his broad chest heaving, his tanned shoulders sweat-damp, some kind of tattoo smudging his left biceps. He looked disoriented, hunted, his nerves stripped raw as if he’d just gotten up from a torture session on the rack. Maybe he had.

      He seemed to shake himself, trying to clear his head. “You.” He pinned her with eyes that were granite-hard beneath spiky black lashes. “What the hell are you doing in my living room?”

      For a moment Rowena couldn’t remember the answer to his question herself, let alone form it into a coherent explanation. At least, not with the deputy’s gaze peeling back the layers of her soul that way. She sucked in a deep breath, trying to get a little oxygen to her brain.

      “It was Mac…” Rowena stammered. “She was screaming, saying you were hurting her. I could see you bending over her from the door and I…” She faltered, remembering all too well the power in him, the size of him, leaning over the tiny child who seemed completely at his mercy.

      Somehow Rowena doubted the deputy would appreciate what her snap judgment of the situation had been. “I, uh…” She shrugged, undoubtedly looking as guilty as she felt. “I thought you…”

      His gaze narrowed. “It’s obvious what you thought.”

      Obvious and embarrassing. Rowena’s cheeks burned. The man would hate her worse than ever after this. She’d taken Clancy’s chances of being placed in the Lawless household from slim to none in less than twenty seconds.

      “What can I say?” Rowena swallowed a lump of defeat. “It’s official. I’m an idiot.”

      She glimpsed Mac moving on the exercise mat, pushing herself up to a sitting position and scooting her way over to lean against the wall. At least Mac was able to move her legs, Rowena thought in relief. Still, they looked far too thin, way too frail sticking out from under the ruffle of the glittery purple tutu about the little girl’s middle.

      “It’s a very bad thing to hit a policeman!” she accused with a formidable frown. “My daddy’s going to have to ’rest you now. And you’ll get handcuffs on and—Hey, Daddy. That lady’s bleeding.”

      “Yes, she is.” Was his voice a little softer, or had Rowena imagined it? The deputy probably came with that whole “if I get quiet be afraid—very afraid” warning Rowena’s mother had.

      Rowena’s hand fluttered up to the crest of her cheekbone. It stung, felt a little sticky. Great. She hadn’t just humiliated herself. She’d managed to get cut in the process. She could just imagine trying to explain the mark it would leave behind.

      Cash righted the wheelchair. He gathered Mac, tutu and all, in his arms and put her into the seat. There was something heart-wrenching in the big man’s gentleness as he buckled her in, set her feet in their tiny rainbow striped stockings on the footrests.

      “Guess I get to stop therapy while you take that lady to jail, huh, Daddy?” Mac chirped.

      Cash grabbed the white hand towel he’d looped around his neck, looking as uncomfortable as Rowena felt. “We’ll finish later,” he said. “Head on into your room and watch Dora the Explorer.”

      “Watch TV?” If the kid could have danced a jig, she would have. “Before my therapy’s finished?”

      “You СКАЧАТЬ