Beth Cornelison - Danger at Her Door

He grinned as he remembered the stunned expression that had washed over Megan’s face when she’d seen him wearing only a towel. He’d caught the spark of interest that flickered in Megan’s eyes, too. Discerning, jade eyes. Yeah, he’d done a little looking of his own. His new neighbor was a beautiful woman. The fact that she cared enough about Caitlyn’s interests to bring her home scored points for her, as well.

He just hoped his inability to control his rambunctious daughter’s wanderings hadn’t colored her against him. Jack was definitely interested in getting to know Megan better. Much better.

But when? That was the problem.

Sighing, Jack dismissed thoughts of dinner and dancing with Megan. As it was, he barely kept his head above water. What little free time he had belonged to Caitlyn—time to read her books and listen to her talk about preschool. Maybe if he could carve out more quality time with her, Caitlyn wouldn’t feel compelled to crawl out windows or finger paint the kitchen with peanut butter and jelly when his back was turned.

But his job at the newspaper didn’t allow him more time with his daughter. If only he could figure out how other single parents balanced work and kids. If only Lauren hadn’t walked out on them…

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose and shoved the “if onlys” out of his mind. The fact remained that Lauren had walked out on their five-year marriage, and no amount of regret or wishing would change that. He had to figure out how to be a single dad before his failings as a parent resulted in bigger problems than Caitlyn crawling out a window while he was in the shower.

Dragging a hand down his face, he strode over to the TV and jabbed the power button. Cinderella’s mice friends faded to black.

When Caitlyn faced him, her lower lip poked out in a pout. “But Cinderella’s my favorite.”

“I know that, munchkin, but you’ve already watched it twice today.” Jack sat on the edge of his worn-out plaid sofa and struggled for the right words to discipline his daughter.

“Caitlyn, haven’t I told you that when I’m working or in the shower or on the phone, you have to stay inside? I can’t be two places at once, and you can’t go in the yard without someone to watch you.”

“But there weren’t any cars in the street!” Caitlyn whined, her protest giving Jack new insight to her disobedience.

He knitted his brow in a frown. “You’re also supposed to stay away from the street.”

“I had to pat the doggie!” Caitlyn spread her hands and gave him a look that said she felt her excuse exempted her from punishment.

Sitting straighter, Jack patted his leg and wiggled his fingers to motion Caitlyn closer. She gave him her I-know-I’m-in-trouble-but-aren’t-I-cute look to counter his fatherly scowl.

“Honey, you can’t go in the street. Ever. Not without an adult holding your hand. And I’ve told you before not to pat strange dogs. Not all dogs are nice.”

“Sam was nice, and so was Megan.” Caitlyn scratched a mosquito bite on her arm and shrugged.

Jack quirked an eyebrow. He didn’t bother to argue the fact that Sam didn’t seem so nice to him.

“I think Megan looks like Cinderella.” Caitlyn grinned and pranced over to him, twirling like a ballerina. “Did you think she was pretty, Daddy?”

What he thought about Megan was too racy for a four-year-old. Megan’s petite body had enticing feminine curves, and although she hadn’t worn much makeup, her cheeks had been flushed pink from the summer heat. Jack felt his own brow warm as he thought of other ways Megan could get flushed and out of breath. With him.

“Daddy?”

Caitlyn’s summons snapped him out of his sultry daydreams. “Yeah, I thought she was pretty.”

For crying out loud, he didn’t even know if Megan was married. He had no business fantasizing about her. Even if he was in the midst of months-long sex depravation.

Caitlyn clambered onto his lap, her bony knees and elbows jabbing him awkwardly. “Can I go to her house sometime and play with Sam?”

“I don’t know, Cait. Sam’s not the sort of dog I want you playing with. He was pretty big and—” Mean.

She slapped her arms across her chest and poked out her lip. His little drama queen.

Cut to the chase. You’ve got an article to write.

“You could get hurt if you don’t obey the rules. The rules are: don’t go outside alone, don’t go in the street and don’t pat strange dogs. Okay?”

“But I didn’t get hurt!”

“Caitlyn, the point is—”

The loud jangling of the telephone interrupted the point.

“Don’t move. I’ll be right back,” he told Caitlyn and shoved off the sofa.

Snatching up the phone, he balanced the receiver on his shoulder while he rummaged through the freezer for a frozen dinner he could zap in the microwave for Caitlyn’s supper. “H’lo?”

“Jack? Burt, here.”

As soon as his boss said his name, Jack winced. With all the interruptions this afternoon, he hadn’t finished his article for tomorrow morning’s edition. Without looking at the clock, he knew he’d missed his deadline.

“Burt, I know. I’m late. I’m sorry.”

Aggravation knotted Jack’s stomach. He’d never get the big story assignments and lead headlines if he couldn’t even get the fluff articles on Burt’s desk by deadline. Generally, Burt Harwood, the news editor, cut him a lot of slack. He knew Jack’s situation as a single father in a new town. He made allowances for Jack missing a deadline here and there.

But Jack didn’t want allowances. He wanted better assignments, bigger pieces to write, more credit for his journalistic talent. He wanted to prove to his boss he could handle his job and his family.

He could do it. He would do it. Lauren had given him no choice.

“Listen, Burt, I’ll have the piece on the sheriff candidates’ rally finished tonight.” He expelled a whoosh of air in frustration. “Give me until nine. Caitlyn goes to bed by eight, and I’ll e-mail you the article as soon as it’s done. I swear. Things have been crazy around—”

“Listen, forget the candidates rally for now. We’ve got something breaking down at the police station.”

Jack perked up. He smelled a big story. This could be his break. Finally.

“They’ve arrested a guy—some white-collar banker type—turned in by his girlfriend. They think he could be connected to an old serial rape case they never solved. One the cops dubbed ‘The Gentleman Rapist’ because the guy gained entry to the women’s houses by posing as a cop doing courtesy security checks. The Good Samaritan ploy.”

Good Samaritan… Jack’s thoughts flickered briefly to Megan. Her shy smile. Her flushed cheeks and clingy, sweat-dampened T-shirt.

With a shake of his head, Jack refocused his thoughts. “Burt, I want this story. Give me this one, and you won’t be sorry.”

“Can you get down to the police department tonight and get the particulars for the morning edition?”

Jack grimaced as he slid Caitlyn’s dinner in the microwave. “Not tonight. I don’t have a babysitter.”

“Then I’m sending Parker.”

Jack’s stomach clenched in irritation. “Look, Caitlyn has preschool in the morning. I’ll be free to talk to the cops then. I’ll talk to the guy’s neighbors. I’ll call his first-grade teacher if I have to, but I’ll get you the story. You know I can write a better story than Parker. I’ll find a fresh angle, something that the TV guys and the Lagniappe Herald missed.”

Jack raked his fingers through his hair, searching for the tidbit that would tip the scales in his favor. He hoped that mentioning the Herald, the other newspaper in town, would appeal to Burt’s competitive nature.