Julianna Morris - Dr. Dad

Chapter One

The wail of fire engine sirens cut through the calm morning and Starr automatically pulled to one side of the road. Several trucks and police vehicles sped around her, headed for a rising plume of smoke on the hillside.

Alarmed, Starr followed the flashing lights and slammed to a stop outside the perimeter established by the emergency personnel. Heart sinking, she grabbed her notebook and confirmed the address; sure enough, this was the house belonging to her goddaughter’s baby-sitter.

“Blast,” she muttered, jumping out of the car.

“Sony, lady, you’ll have to stay back like everyone else,” said an officer controlling the onlooking crowd.

“But—”

“No special privileges.”

Special privileges?

It was then Starr realized she’d instinctively grabbed her camera, with her press credentials attached to the strap. “That’s not why I’m here. I just want to know if Rebecca Bradley is all right. I’m her godmother.”

The officer hesitated, then turned to one side and pointed. A child stood next to an ambulance, tears rolling down her cheeks. She seemed so little and vulnerable that pain twisted inside of Starr.

No.

Becky had already lost her parents. She’d been through enough. It wasn’t fair to have something else happen to her.

The policeman cleared his throat. “You can go over, but keep out of the way,” he warned.

Starr spared him a single glance before threading her way toward the child. Becky’s mother had been her best friend, though in the two years since Becky had been born, Starr had only seen her three times; her career as a photojournalist kept her out of the country for months on end. Horribly, she hadn’t even known Amelia and Sam were dead until well after the funeral. That had been six months ago and this was the first time she’d been able to get home.

“Don’t cry. Please, don’t cry,” begged the woman standing over Becky. “Don’t worry, it’s all right.”

All right? Starr’s honey brown eyebrows lifted. She walked to the ambulance and crouched till she was at the same height as the child. “Hey, kiddo,” she murmured.

“Dr. Bradley will be furious if you take any pictures,” the other woman insisted. “He doesn’t like reporters.”

Starr sighed and tucked her press badge into a pocket. Noah Bradley was Becky’s uncle and guardian. They’d had a couple of uncomfortable telephone conversations since she’d arrived home, but she’d never met him. “You’re Mrs. Dinsdale, aren’t you? I’m Becky’s godmother. We spoke this morning.”

“Oh...Miss Granger.” The woman’s lined face turned pink. “I’m sorry. It’s nice to meet you.”

Starr gave her a brief smile, then returned her attention to Becky. “What’s wrong?” she asked softly.

For a long moment the youngster gazed at her. “Kitty,” she said at length, pointing to the house. “Get Kitty.” Her voice held an endearing confidence that this newcomer would be able to solve the problem.

“Were you playing with Kitty?”

“They were in the playroom,” the elder woman interjected. She motioned toward a second-story window and Starr looked at it thoughtfully. The fire hadn’t reached that side of the building. In fact, it seemed virtually ignored by the firefighters.

“I—”

“Becky!” A moment later the child was swept into a man’s arms. Compared to his generous height, Becky looked like a dainty china doll.

Starr stood and watched them, a corner of her mind appreciating the stranger’s broad shoulders and clean male scent. He had Becky cuddled against his chest, and his hand stroked her gold hair with a reassuring motion.

“Don’t worry, Dr. Bradley, she isn’t hurt. The medics checked her over...she didn’t inhale any smoke,” the elder woman said quickly.

Starr’s eyes widened. This was Noah Bradley? He was very different than she’d envisioned him, a complete opposite to his easygoing brother. They didn’t even look alike. Sam had been blond and solid; Noah had dark brown hair and a tall, athletic body. He certainly didn’t look like the grumpy, bespectacled doctor she’d envisioned from their brief discussions on the phone.

“Let her speak for herself, Mrs. Dinsdale,” he said quietly. “Are you okay, Becky?”

To Starr’s surprise, Becky pointed at her. “Kitty,” she repeated.

Dr. Bradley gave Starr an assessing look. She couldn’t tell if his impression was good or bad, and it annoyed her to realize she cared. Her life-style and career didn’t lend itself to relationships...as her brief marriage had proven. Getting worked up about a man with warm, intelligent eyes wouldn’t change anything.

“What about a kitty?” he asked.

“I guess it’s in the house,” Starr murmured.

“He’s one of the neighborhood cats,” Mrs. Dinsdale explained. “Becky plays with him all the time. I planned to ask you if she could take it home.”

“Unca Noah, Kitty,” Becky said mournfully.

“Dr. Bradley, is this lady bothering you?” queried the policeman who had talked to her earlier. “She claimed to be your niece’s godmother.”

Noah’s eyes narrowed. He should have recognized Starr immediately—she’d become almost as famous as her photographs. “It’s all right. We’re...getting acquainted.”

The officer nodded and faded away discretely.

“Unca Noah, Kitty!”

The emphatic tone of Becky’s voice demanded his attention, and he looked at her, surprised she would talk so much in front of someone she didn’t really know. Though...a lot of things about Becky surprised him. He’d quickly learned there was a huge difference between doctoring children and raising them. It was frustrating and scary...and wonderful. He’d never planned to have kids, yet Becky had crept into his aching heart. Sam was gone, but his smile and eyes were mirrored in the little girl he’d left behind.

“Let me take a look at you,” he murmured, setting her on the back step of the ambulance.

An exasperated, comically adult expression crossed Becky’s face. “I o’tay. Kitty.”

After a brief hesitation Starr stepped back and headed for the nearest fireman. While Dr. Bradley made sure Becky was really okay, she’d worry about Becky’s beloved kitty.

“Excuse me...?”

The official turned. “Stay back, ma’am.”

She scowled at the dreaded word ma‘am. Thirty-two wasn’t old enough to be called “ma’am.” “Uh...there still might be a cat in the house.”

“We’ve already searched the building.”

“But—”

“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing we can do. If we find the animal, we’ll bring it out.” He motioned her away with his arm.

Biting back a retort, Starr gazed intently at the house. A large, spreading tree grew next to the window that supposedly belonged to the playroom. The branches were old and gnarled, and dipped low on the street side.

A definite possibility.

Starr took a deep breath and slipped around the back of the ambulance. Getting into the tree was ridiculously easy—the firemen were focused on the west side of the house. They certainly didn’t have time to notice a woman climbing into the bed of an old pickup and then chinning herself onto a low limb.

It wasn’t until she was high in the air that Starr realized she still carried her favorite camera around her neck and shoulder. Not that it hindered her; she’d taken her cameras into every type of dangerous situation, until they almost seemed a part of her body. Climbing a tree was nothing compared to dodging bullets in war-torn countries.

Except... Starr grimaced at the lingering soreness in her shoulder. She hadn’t always managed to dodge the bullets. Her last assignment had resulted in a lengthy stay in the hospital.