Family Practice

He looked at her with another one of those unreadable expressions, then their gazes locked for only a moment, but long enough for her to feel a flutter in her stomach and a warmth in her breast.

What else are you good at? Good grief. Had she said that? It sounded so suggestive, and she certainly hadn’t meant to…

“I mean,” she said, “any other talents?”

“None to boast about,” he answered. His amber eyes never left hers, and the room seemed to close in on them.

Boy, it was hot in here. Kara blew out her breath. “Ready for some gauze and tape?” she asked, trying to still her awkwardness.

“Yeah,” Michael said, returning his attention to Eric.

When Eric had been bandaged, Kara reached to take the boy from the counter and set him on the floor, but apparently Michael had the same idea. Their hands brushed together, and they both jerked back in response.

Kara, her fingers still tingling from his touch, felt her cheeks warm. Darn that telltale flush. She didn’t want him thinking she felt embarrassment or anything else. He was a stranger, just passing through. And she had a lot on her plate these days. A brief—

A brief what?

For goodness sake, was she even thinking an odd encounter in Lizzie’s bathroom with a stranger was a prelude to anything at all?

She’d been reading too many romance books.

And if she’d learned anything at all, happily ever after only happened in fairy tales. It had been a tough lesson, but one she wouldn’t ever forget. She would never allow a Prince Charming to rescue her and set her up in a castle in the sky.

Kara Westin could take care of herself.

Kara carried Gulliver’s leash and stepped out on the porch, intent on taking her usual sunset walk south of the harbor. It had become an evening ritual, ever since she’d first moved into the Haven.

The quiet hour before dusk was her favorite time of the day. She relished the tranquillity as the sun sank low in the pink and gray streaked sky. It gave her time to think, to plan, to dream.

Resting her hands against the lattice railing, she watched the waves crash upon the shore. Sometimes, when things were really quiet, she envisioned herself on the deck of a huge ship, sailing across the sea to a land of plenty and promise. Kara didn’t have many possessions, but she did own a vivid imagination, something she found priceless.

A lone gull sounded in the distance, and she searched the horizon. Instead of the bird, she spotted Michael, her new neighbor. He sat, alone and pensive, perched on the rocks that lined the jetty.

Who was he? Why had he come after the other tourists had gone home? She wanted to honor his privacy, but to do so meant she would remain on the porch instead of walking barefoot in the sand. Perhaps she could wave, acknowledge his presence, then continue on her own. She didn’t need to strike up a conversation or bother him.

She stepped from the deck and strode toward the fence behind Mr. Radcliff’s house. Kara and Mr. Radcliff were the only two permanent tenants of Lizzie’s cottages. The elderly man had been kind enough to allow Gulliver to stay in his yard, since Kara’s house didn’t have a fence. Kara, in turn, fed and cared for the dog and kept Mr. Radcliff’s yard clean.

Lizzie thought Mr. Radcliff rather stodgy and persnickety, but Kara disagreed. Losing his eyesight had surely made the old man act that way. Besides, Kara liked to focus on the good qualities people had, and as far as she was concerned, Mr. Radcliff had plenty. He’d been the first to suggest a trust fund be set up for Eric and little Ashley. And he’d organized the Gray Brigade, a group of senior citizens who had besieged the local paper with phone calls and letters to the editor in support of Lizzie’s request for custody.

Mr. Radcliff was kindhearted, even if he was a bit cranky at times. Lizzie referred to him as another of Kara’s adoptees, which, in a sense, he probably was. Of course, Kara made it a point not to coddle him, but she did take him dessert some evenings. And whenever his hometown newspaper arrived in the mail, she made time to read it out loud to him.

After she snapped the leash on Gulliver, Kara and the dog took off toward the shore, a bit more quickly than Kara had intended. “Come on,” she warned the dog. “Take it easy. I want to walk, not race. And if you don’t stop jerking ahead, you’ll pull my arm from its socket. Then who will exercise you?”

Gulliver, apparently not the least bit intimidated by Kara’s threat, didn’t show much restraint as they neared the stretch of beach where Michael rested upon the rocks, one knee bent, the other extended. He seemed so lost in his thoughts that she doubted whether he noticed her watching him. Or whether he even cared.

He picked up a small stone, studied it carefully, then tossed it into the surf. The breeze ruffled his golden hair, and the sun glistened off a bristled cheek, making him look like an eighteenth-century sea captain who’d lost his ship and crew. Kara’s imagination took hold, and she envisioned him marooned on a desert island, forlorn and helpless.

So pensive, so alone, she thought. So sad. Why did she always gravitate toward the downtrodden? Little boys who’d been orphaned, motherless babies, lonely old men and women, stray dogs.

Surely, she should leave him alone, allow him some privacy.

But like the call of the gull, his solitude cried out and beckoned her.

Chapter Two

Michael watched the sun dip low in the sky and found some peace at last. So far, so good, he thought. No one had recognized him or badgered him with questions he hadn’t even taken time to consider himself. For that reason alone, this quiet little hideaway might be just what he needed.

A bark caught his attention, and he glanced over his right shoulder where Kara walked her dog along the beach. No, he corrected, the monstrous dog walked her.

She caught his gaze and, perhaps assuming he wanted company, tugged on the leash to encourage the dog closer to the rocks. The breeze teased her autumn tendrils of hair, and the brightness of her smile seemed to challenge the setting sun. Like a pixie, she enchanted him. He studied her longer than was polite.

“Hello,” she called. “Gulliver and I are going for a walk along the beach, care to join us?”

Gulliver, she’d called the dog, and the image of a tiny Lilliputian queen trying valiantly to capture the giant brought a smile to his lips.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, swiping at a fiery strand of hair whipping in the ocean air.

He doubted telling her she reminded him of a Lilliputian would sit well, even if he bestowed the respectful title of queen, so he changed the subject. “Looks to me as though that dog wants to drag you down the beach.”

“I’m stronger than I look,” she said with a grin. “Tougher, too.”

Michael smiled again, finding it hard to believe that the redheaded pixie was either. He’d seen his share of strong women, hard women. Spending a few moments with one who was entirely different than others he’d known suddenly seemed appealing. He stood and climbed from the rocks, brushing the sand from the backside of his khaki shorts while he made his way toward her. “Maybe I should hold the dog.”

She shrugged as though his offer didn’t warrant much consideration, but a dimpled cheek and dancing green eyes told him she found something amusing in his words. “Suit yourself,” she said, handing him the leash.

As she transferred control of Gulliver, the dog danced and pranced before nearly dislocating Michael’s shoulder. “Hey, settle down, boy.” Then he glanced at the woman walking at his side and wearing a smile as light and easy as the ocean breeze.

“Gulliver loves to run on the beach,” she said, the lilt of her voice as fey as her appearance. “But I’m trying hard to train him to be well mannered.”

She had her work cut out for her, Michael thought. The dog still needed a lot of discipline, but he didn’t mention it. “How long have you been working with him?”

“Since I found him about three weeks ago,” she said, stooping to reach for a shell resting on the sand. She blew on it, then held it out for him to see. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

He nodded, although he would have stepped right over it himself.

She flashed him another effervescent smile. “I collect things.”

“Besides stray dogs and strangers?” he asked, unable to resist teasing her a bit.

She tucked the brown and yellow speckled shell into the front pocket of her shorts. “There’s enough loneliness in the world.”

He wondered whether she had experienced loneliness firsthand, or if she just had a compassionate heart. Both, he surmised. The sudden curiosity about her surprised him. “Mrs. Campbell said you’ve been helping her with the kids.”

Kara nodded. “At first, it was a neighborly thing to do, like reading to Mr. Radcliff. But I fell in love with Ashley and Eric. And we’ve become a family of sorts. When Lizzie can no longer take care of them, I’d like to be their guardian. Their mom. And I’ll take care of Lizzie, too.”

It seemed a noble thing for her to do. He couldn’t imagine his ex-wife being so tenderhearted that she’d take in a couple of orphans. Denise hadn’t wanted any of her own kids.

Why hadn’t he spotted her true character until after it reached up and smacked him between the eyes? In a way, he only had himself to blame for the entire mess.