LITMIR.BIZ

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travel was at stake. Was she in some kind of trouble?

      He put together grilled cheese sandwiches and mugs of hot tomato soup, and carried a tray into the other room.

      Starla sat up, but she only took a few bites. She sipped the cup of tea he brought her, then nestled back down into the covers.

      “Starla?” Meredith said timidly.

      “Yes?”

      “I’m sorry I got in your truck and made you get in a accident.”

      “The accident wasn’t your fault, honey. They call them accidents because they’re nobody’s fault.”

      Meredith didn’t seem reassured by those words, but Charlie stayed out of the dialogue.

      “It’s okay,” Starla said, somehow understanding the child needed forgiveness. “I’m not mad at you.”

      Meredith nodded. “Okay.”

      Meredith picked at her food and Starla drifted into sleep. After cleaning up their dishes, Charlie held his daughter on his lap.

      “It’s time to talk now,” he told her.

      She nodded gravely and raised innocent wide eyes that immediately filled with tears. “I did a naughty thing, huh, Daddy?”

      “Yes, you did. It was a dangerous thing. There are rules about strangers and about going anywhere by yourself, and the rules are to keep you safe. Do you understand?”

      She nodded. To her credit, she didn’t use an excuse. “I’m very, very sorry.”

      “What do you think is a fair punishment?”

      They’d had similar conversations in the past, so she understood the concept. “I shouldn’t get to play with something I really like for a whole year.”

      Time was a concept she had a problem with, however. “I think a week will do. What should that favorite thing be?”

      She glanced aside, then up at him. “My angel book.”

      She loved that book, so not having it for a week would be stern punishment. “I think that’s fair.”

      “I must have left it in the angel lady’s truck.”

      “We’ll get it tomorrow.” She nestled her head against his chest and he rocked her. “I love you with my whole heart.”

      “I love you with my whole heart, too, Daddy.”

      He picked up a book and read it to her, then just held her until she fell asleep. Eventually he carried her to her bed and tucked her in, pausing to touch his face to her cheek and smooth her dark hair.

      He wouldn’t have been able to go on living if anything had happened to his Meredith.

      Back in the living room, the woman still slept. Charlie added a log to the fire and sat across from her. She had a few dark streaks on her cheek and in her hairline. He got a wet cloth and dabbed it on her face.

      She opened her eyes. That incredible blue gaze wreaked havoc with his senses every time she turned it on him.

      “There was still some blood,” he explained.

      Her eyes drifted shut.

      He removed the dried blood gently, smoothing her hair back from her temple with the cloth. Her hair was so pale and fine; it darkened visibly when it got wet. The skin of her temples seemed almost translucent, and her brows were fair and shaped like wings. Her golden lashes lay against her cheeks in soft curls.

      He’d never seen anyone so exquisite—there was just no other word for her—beautiful didn’t cut it, couldn’t describe those striking cheekbones and hair that begged to be touched. His fingers itched to learn just how silken and soft it would be.

      Charlie wiped his palm against the thigh of his jeans.

      In the firelight, her hair shimmered like gossamer threads of silver and gold. He touched it then, just to move it from under her cheek and make her more comfortable. It was cool and satiny in his fingers. He drew a breath that came from his toes and curled a hitch in his chest.

      Her eyes opened.

      His breathing stopped.

      “Charlie,” she whispered sleepily.

      It was the sexiest word in the history of language. “What?”

      “Is it still snowing?”

      He roused himself from his visual trance to go peer out the window into the night. The moon revealed swirling flakes still falling to blanket the countryside. “Yes,” he answered.

      “Charlie,” she said again.

      If he didn’t guard his reactions to every sigh and word and each flutter of her lash, he was going to lose all self-respect. “Yes?”

      “Do you suppose I could have a bath?”

      Ohmygod.

      “I’m kind of achy.” She brought her open hand to her chest. “Probably from the seat belt, but I’m thinking a warm soak would feel good.”

      “You’re in luck, then. I just happen to have a whirlpool in my master bath.”

      “Oh, that would be heaven.”

      Damn near. “Let me help you. Are you dizzy?”

      She sat up and brought a hand to her temple. “A little.”

      “Wait while I go fill the tub.” He hurried to run hot water and turn on the jets, add Meredith’s bubble bath, then returned for Starla. He slid one arm around her waist, and she wrapped hers around him and steadied herself. They walked that way, hip to hip to the hallway, and then he guided her ahead of him with both hands on her shoulders.

      “Here are towels and a robe.” All he had to lend was his own. He helped her sit on the corner of the enormous tub. “Tell you what. You just sleep in my room tonight. While you’re in here, I’ll change the sheets. Then I’ll take the sofa.”

      “Are you sure?”

      “Positive.”

      Her hair draped over her shoulder in a silken wave. He opened a drawer and pulled out an elastic band. “Here. It’s Meredith’s.”

      “Thank you.” She smiled up at him. “You’re a sweet guy, you know that?”

      She captured her hair in a loose knot on her head, then, bending to remove one sock, she swayed.

      “Whoa.” Charlie caught her by the shoulders and balanced her. “Here.” He knelt in front of her. “Bending over probably isn’t a good idea.” He picked up her foot and peeled the sock away. Her feet had turned him on with socks, he didn’t dare look now. He looked straight ahead at the Hawkeyes emblem on his sweatshirt.

      She steadied herself with a hand on his shoulder.

      After pulling off the other sock, he purposely stared at the mounting bubbles in the tub. “Can you get your jeans?”

      She straightened up in her sitting position, reached under the sweatshirt and unbuttoned and unzipped.

      It was obvious that she’d have to bend over, so he took control. He could do this. Not everything was about sex. This was about helping a person his daughter had managed to get into this situation. “Stand up.”

      She did. The sweatshirt hung over her hips, thank God.

      Charlie reached under it, concentrating on finding the waistband, located it and jimmied the denim down over her hips, his fingers coming in contact with warm skin and satin in the process. This activity would raise any man’s blood pressure, and he’d been without a woman for a long time. She’d said he was sweet. If she only knew. She had to know. “Okay, have a seat again.”

      She sat. Concentrating

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