LITMIR.BIZ

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Something had been caught in the trap.

      He looked at Briana, knowing it wasn’t her but wanting to make sure she was all right. He saw her just in time to catch her as she rushed to him and climbed the step stool as if it was a ladder.

      She ended up in his lap, her legs wrapped around him, her arms tightening around his neck.

      “Wow, why didn’t I think of sharing?” he said, a smile on his lips.

       Chapter Two

      Hunter sat holding a warm, trembling female, unsure what to do next. He didn’t mind holding her. In fact, sitting as they were, things were getting interesting. But she might object, since she’d already been leery of him.

      “I know I should get down,” she muttered against his neck, sending tingling sensations through his body, “but I can’t.”

      “Why not?”

      “I have a phobia about rats.”

      “A phobia?”

      “Yes, an unreasonable fear of something.”

      He chuckled. “I’m a doctor, remember? I know what a phobia is.”

      “Well, mine is rats. I was okay as long as I could convince myself they wouldn’t really show up here, but—but is it a rat in the trap?”

      “Looks like it to me,” he said, staring over her shoulder. “I can’t be sure until I go over there.”

      She squeezed him tighter. “No! No, don’t go over there! He might bite you.”

      “How did you get a phobia about rats?” He cuddled her a little closer, liking the feel of her, her scent. “Were you raised in a slum?”

      “No, not at all! We had a very nice house, but I saw a movie about a little boy and the rats—terrorized him. I screamed every night for weeks. My brothers laughed at me. Finally my father let me keep a cat in my room all night so I’d be protected.”

      Her voice trembled, and Hunter had an immediate picture of that little girl, wildly afraid of rats, pleading for protection. He held her more tightly against him. “It’s all right. You’re safe, Briana. I won’t let the rats get you.”

      “Are you laughing at me?” she asked, her voice small.

      “No. I’m not laughing. I’m understanding.”

      “Oh. Thank you. But we can’t—I mean, we can’t—this isn’t seemly.”

      Ah. He knew what was causing her concern. “Look, Bri,” he said, shortening her name, “men react to stimuli without any, uh, intent. It’s not something they can control. I promise I won’t take advantage.”

      “But it must be uncomfortable.”

      “If I were wearing jeans, it would be. They don’t allow much wiggle room, uh, I mean, extra space.” He was discovering any extra space he had was disappearing rapidly. He said, “Maybe I should go over and look. Maybe it’s just a really big mouse. Would that be better?”

      “I don’t think you should go over there,” she said, the trembling starting again.

      “I won’t get close, I promise,” he said gently and placed his hands on her arms, deadlocked around his neck.

      “Come on, Bri, turn loose. I’ll come right back, I promise.”

      “And I can stay on the stool?”

      “Of course. You can even have another Twinkie.”

      “No. Treats never help. Dad tried that.”

      “I bet he did,” Hunter muttered. Slowly he got her to lower her arms. Putting his hands on her waist, he slipped off the stool and swung her on top of it.

      As he turned away, she reached out for him. “Hunter, be careful.”

      “I will, Bri, I promise.”

      He walked over to the corner and stared at the dead animal. It was definitely a rat, a large one. Could he get away with telling Bri it was a big mouse? He was afraid she’d realize he was lying. He’d never been good at lying.

      He came back to the stool.

      She held out her arms, as if ready to resume her position in his lap. He shook his head. “I’m going to walk around for a while, to stretch my legs.”

      “And what was it?”

      He hung his head. He hated to tell her. “It was a rat. But it’s definitely dead.”

      She reached for him, her hold probably leaving bruises on his skin. “You’d better get back up here with me. We’ll be safe here.”

      He wasn’t going to discuss the safety of the stool. If he took that refuge away from her, she’d go to pieces. “Nope, I’ll be safe enough out here in the open.”

      He began to pace, but thought of a question he’d wanted to ask. “You know, when you’ve talked about your childhood, you never mention your mother. Where was she?”

      “She died when we were born.”

      “Why?”

      “She bled to death. That’s why Dad—uh, it was sad for my father, but we didn’t know the difference.”

      “Didn’t he ever remarry?”

      She shook her head, but she kept her gaze fastened to the trap in the corner.

      “But your dad took care of the three of you?” Somehow, he wanted to know she’d been okay.

      She shrugged. “He hired someone.”

      Hunter was surprised by the anger mixed with sorrow he felt. “He hired someone? He didn’t take care of you himself?”

      “He was busy. And he doesn’t seem to care for babies. Once we got old enough to talk, to understand, he began to take a little interest in us.”

      “Hence the cat?”

      Briana shot him a rueful smile. “That was the first time he listened to me. And then only because I was disrupting his peace. But I believed it was because he loved me. More than my brothers. It satisfied me for several years. I’d tell myself the cat was there because he loved me, even if he couldn’t spend time with me.”

      “How did your brothers react?”

      “They hated the cat. And teased it a couple of times when they caught it. But then it scratched them and they backed off.”

      He’d taken a lot of psychology classes and was fascinated with children’s coping mechanisms. “And when did you demand more attention?”

      “How do you know I did?” She wouldn’t look at him and he grinned, stepped closer and slid his arms around her waist. He liked holding her close.

      “Just a hunch,” he said with a grin. Her memories seemed to relax her, and that was a good thing.

      “Actually, my brothers took action first. They became little hellions. Again, my father’s peace was cut up. He demanded Grace make them behave. Grace and her husband, Douglas, took care of us. Grace looked him in the eye and told him if he didn’t participate in his children’s lives, there wasn’t anything she could do.”

      “Wise woman.”

      “Yes, and brave. Dad wasn’t an easy man to face down. He’d been grieving about our mother’s death and paying attention to business. It was easier to leave us to someone else. But to his credit, that’s when he changed. We’d started school, and he’d discovered we had minds.”

      Hunter lifted one hand and cupped her soft, warm cheek. “So then your father loved you?”

      She shrugged again. “That’s when he played a part in our lives. By the

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