Jeannie Watt - Kids on the Doorstep / Cop on Loan - Kids on the Doorstep / Cop on Loan

Renee closed the door and paced her small living room.

She twisted her hands in agitation, not quite sure what she’d hoped would happen just now, but definitely disappointed that nothing at all had happened.

Yet the very fact that she’d looked into his eyes and felt a tingle zing from her stomach to her feminine parts made her extremely wary. She wasn’t supposed to be attracted to John Murphy. The man had complicated her life in a way that should make him Public Enemy No.1 in her eyes, but she was slowly seeing him in a different light.

And that was not good. Better to keep the battle lines firmly drawn. They were not on the same side. They were simply being civil to one another for the sake of the kids.

She opened her door to a tired-looking cop.

He couldn’t have had more than a few hours’ sleep, but there he was, wearing the faded blue jeans and dark T-shirt that appeared to be his standard off-duty wardrobe.

Jasmine looked past Tony to the truck parked at the kerb with a mattress and box spring in the back and a giant dog in the cab.

“That’s your dog?”

“I told you he was big.”

“That’s not big. That’s economy size.”

He laughed and she felt the impact of the unexpected transformation. He was surprisingly attractive when he wasn’t being condescending or annoying.

“You’re sure about this? Having me move in?” he asked, the laughter fading from his face.

This was probably the last time he’d give her an out.

Her last chance to bail.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

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An avid reader since before she can remember, KIMBERLY VAN METERstarted her writing career at sixteen when she finished her first novel, typing late nights and early mornings on her mother’s old portable typewriter. Although that first novel was nothing short of literary mud, with each successive piece of work her writing improved to the point of reaching that coveted published status.

Kimberly, now a journalist, and her husband and three kids make their home in Oakdale. She enjoys writing, reading, photography and drinking hot chocolate by the window sill when it rains.

To the mothers of the world: raising children is the most important job we as adults will ever have, as they are our legacy and our future.

To my sister, Kristen, who wears the badge of motherhood with pride and inspires people to love without reservation, without judgement, without fear. She is a mama bear and a wonder to watch in action!

JOHN MURPHY HAD JUST STOKED the fire and returned to his well-worn leather chair with his newspaper in hand when an urgent knock at the front door had him twisting in surprise.

It was nearly ten o’clock at night and the rain was quickly turning to sleet. This storm was supposed to hit the California Sierra Nevadas pretty hard by dumping a load of snow in the high country and plenty of it even in the foothills, so anyone with any kind of sense knew better than to be out and about. A bad feeling settled in his gut. There was no one he could imagine who would venture into this storm without good reason.

“John? It’s me, Gladys.”

The sound of his neighbor’s voice, thin and reedy, alarmed him. It was too late for house calls of an ordinary nature and Gladys—after going through surgery a few days prior—should’ve been in bed resting.

He opened the door and Gladys offered him a weak and somewhat pained smile as she and three little girls were ushered in from the biting cold.

“What the hell is going on?” he asked yet immediately guided Gladys to his leather chair. “What in the Sam Hill are you doing out in this storm in your condition? You just had surgery, woman. Are you trying to kill yourself?”

“Don’t yell at her. It’s not her fault,” piped up the middle girl whose short stack of wild hair was matted to her head. The poor kid looked like a drowned pixie. She rubbed at her pert nose but stared John down with attitude. “Daddy didn’t stay long enough to listen that she was sick.”

John ran his hand through his hair. “And you are? And who’s your daddy?”

“We’re the Dollings and I’m Taylor,” the little tyke proclaimed, ignoring the nervous jostling from her older sister to be quiet. “Who are you?” she asked without hesitation.

“John Murphy,” he grunted in answer. “And your daddy?”

Gladys broke in with a grimace. “This is Alexis, Taylor and the little one is Chloe. Oh, John, it’s the most deplorable situation and I didn’t know what to do. Look at them, the poor chickpeas, they’re practically frozen to the bone and wearing nothing more than rags. I could throttle that irresponsible boy for this!”

“Throttle who?” John was growing more perplexed by the moment, but Gladys was obviously distressed enough without his blustering adding to it so he tried for patience. “Tell me what’s going on here.”

Gladys compressed her lips to a fine line. “My sister’s grandson, Jason, God rest her soul that she never saw how badly he turned out, just showed up on my doorstep with the girls, saying he couldn’t handle it anymore and he needed me to keep them for a while until he got back on his feet. More likely so that he can be footloose and fancy-free, is what I think but before I could talk some sense into him, he was gone.” Her gaze softened as she took in the children’s forlorn appearance but when she turned to him again, her expression was full of worry and embarrassment. “I didn’t know what to do. I don’t want to take them to the authorities. They are my family, even if only distantly.”

The littlest, she couldn’t be more than three he wagered, sneezed and he realized they were still standing there soaked. He went to the hall closet and returned with three blankets. Giving one to each girl, he told them to warm up by the fire while he tried making sense of things with Gladys.

“Start from the beginning,” he instructed in a low voice so as not to scare the kids. “Where is their father and when is he coming back? Or how about their mother for that matter? They have to have a mother somewhere.”

“Daddy said Mommy left us,” Taylor answered before Gladys could. John turned toward Taylor and she continued, bundled in the blanket, despite several attempts by her older sister to shush her. She glowered at her sister. “Well, that’s what he said.”

“It’s no one’s business,” the older one said, adding in a low tone, “Especially no stranger.”

John looked to Gladys. “He split? No number, nothing?”

“Nothing. He barely took time enough to push the girls out of the car with their bag and then was off again. I tried to stop him but he was too fast for me.” That last part came out accompanied by a trembling lip and John knew Gladys was ashamed of her weakened state. Under normal circumstances the older woman was like a hurricane but the last year had been rough on her and her age was starting to slow her down. He patted her knee in some semblance of comfort but he was certainly caught in a bad spot. It was clear Gladys was loath to involve the authorities but she wasn’t in any shape to care for the kids herself.