Tell Me a Story (4 page)

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he was so disconcerted by this unexpected apparition that it took her several seconds to make any sense out of his words. Despite her best efforts, her eyes kept falling to his chest. There was something about that expanse of masculine skin that put a catch in her breathing and made her feel flushed.

She blinked, forcing her mind to function again. He was saying something. She dragged her eyes from his chest and looked at his face. Something was wrong. What was he saying?

" .. .in the shower and she fell. There's blood all over. I don't think a Band-Aid is going to do it. Maybe she needs stitches. You've got to come and take a look at her."

The doctor in her took over at the mention of blood. "I'll be right there. Keep her quiet and apply firm pressure to the wound. I'll get my bag."

Flynn disappeared in a flurry of blue towel and Ann hurried back into the living room. She grabbed up her bag, her mind working a mile a minute. The doctor in her was speculating on what the medical situation might be, wondering if it would be necessary to call for an ambulance. The woman, shoved well to the back, was speculating on other things, like whether or not her neighbor lifted weights. That would explain those sleek muscles that had rolled so easily under his skin.

In the shower and she fell. Flynn's half-heard explanation popped into her head, and her lips tightened in disapproval. Obviously, he had been cavorting in the shower with a woman, and she'd fallen. Probably hit her head, which would explain all the blood. There was a small, nasty part of Ann that muttered that she probably deserved it.

None of these frantic thoughts slowed her pace as she hurried out of her apartment and across the carpeted hall. She entered his apartment through the open door. She didn't have to look far for her patient. Flynn was kneeling on the floor next taone of the sofas, his naked back blocking Ann's view.

"She's a doctor and she'll know just what to do," His voice was soothing and full of confidence. A good bedside manner, she noted absently.

"But you said that a dragon lived next door." The voice was definitely feminine and just as definitely under ten years of age.

Ann tripped on the steps that had almost been Flynn's downfall the night before. Her recovery was not as graceful as his had been, but she didn't have the advantage of eight hours of steady drinking under her belt.

Flynn glanced over his shoulder, his face expressing his relief at her presence in the moment before he turned back to his companion. "I was kidding about that. She's really very nice." He didn't sound in the least embarrassed at having it revealed that he'd called her a dragon. Ann filed the words away to examine at some other time. Right now, what mattered was her patient.

Stepping around Flynn, she knelt by the sofa. Other than being female, the child bore no resemblance to her hasty image of a woman who'd been cavorting in Flynn's shower. She was small-boned and fragile with a mop of badly cut sandy hair that was matted with blood on one side. Her gray eyes were swimming with tears and an occasional sob shook her thin frame. She examined Ann solemnly without releasing her hold on Flynn's left hand. His right hand held a kitchen towel to the side of her head.

The scenario was not quite what Ann had been expecting, but the injury was exactly what she'd expected. Head wounds were always frightening, but they had a tendency to bleed out of all proportion to their seriousness.

"Becky, this is Ann. She's going to take care of your head for you."

Ann smiled at the little girl, unaware of the way her face lit and softened with the smile. "Hi, Becky. It looks like you smacked your head pretty good." She eased the towel away and was relieved to see that the actual wound itself was not too bad. A small cut at the end of Becky's eyebrow still oozed blood sullenly, but it wasn't enough to warrant stitches.

"Are you going to stick a needle in me?" Becky's lip quivered at the thought.

"I don't think we need to do that. A bandage should take care of this."

"I was in the shower and I heard her fall. I don't know what happened. She was looking at magazines when I went into the bathroom." Flynn's voice was tight with concern.

"I was just trying to get a closer look at that picture on the wall, Mr. Flynn. I stood up on the sofa, but I slipped on a book and hit my head on the table." Ann glanced over her shoulder at the coffee table. It was a massive affair of glass and wood. Becky was probably lucky the damage was as minor as it was.

"Is she going to be all right?" Flynn hadn't moved from his position beside Becky, but he managed to give off an aura of hovering that made Ann want to swat him like an obnoxious fly.

"She's going to be fine. Why don't you go boil some water?"

He seemed relieved to have something to do, and he hurried off to the kitchen. Ann watched him leave, trying to convince herself that he looked ridiculous in the barely decent towel. It didn't work. In fact, he looked distressingly sexy. She dragged her mind and her eyes back to her small patient.

Becky's eyes met hers solemnly, more than a trace of uncertainty in their depths. Ann smiled and the look faded a bit, but it wasn't replaced by trust. Ann had a feeling that this was not a child who trusted easily.

"What's the water for?"

"Nothing. He was making me nervous."

The little girl's eyes widened. "You mean you don't really need any water?"

"Nope. I don't need it at all. Men aren't very good at coping with things like this. They get all upset. I thought it would be a good idea if we got him out of our hair."

"Won't Mr. Flynn be mad?"

"I don't think so." Ann set the bloodstained towel on the glass-topped coffee table. Becky winced when

Tell Me a Story

Ann tried to cleanse the wound, and Ann gave her a reassuring smile. "This may sting a little bit, but it won't hurt much, I promise."

"Mama always says that but it hurts a lot." "Well, maybe your mother doesn't have the right stuff so it hurts more than she thinks it will. But I'm a doctor and this is a special cleanser that doesn't hurt a lot. Okay?"

The gray eyes studied Ann for a long moment, weighing and considering in a very adult manner. Ann didn't try to rush the decision, letting Becky take her time. It was much easier to work with children if they felt they had some control over what was happening to them. Becky finally nodded, apparently making up her mind that she'd trust Ann this time.

She dabbed the cotton against the cut, feeling the tension in Becky's frame. "Is Flynn a friend of your mom and dad's?" The question had two purposes. One was to distract Becky. If she had something else to think about, she wouldn't have as much time to worry about what Ann might be doing. The other purpose was to find out what Flynn McCallister was doing with a little girl in his apartment. Over the past two years, she'd seen him with a number of women, but none of them looked the type to be mothers.

"I don't have a dad. Me and Mom do just fine without him."

"I'm sure you do. Then Flynn must be a friend of your mom's?" What kind of woman would leave her child in the care of a playboy like McCallister? "Nope."

Ann's hand stilled a moment. "Well, then, how do you know him?"

"I found him last night."

"You found him!"

"Yup."

"How did you find him?" Ann's hand continued to move automatically.

"He sat on me."

"Sat on you?" She was beginning to feel like a parrot, repeating everything Becky said.

"Uh-huh. And then, he said it wasn't fair that he had lots of beds and I didn't have any so I could use one of his beds."

"Wait a minute. He sat on you and then offered you a place to sleep? Where did you meet him?"

"In the alley."

"What alley?" This was starting to sound like a vaudeville routine.

"The one back of this building."

"What were you doing there and what was Flynn doing there?"

"Well, I was sleeping and Mr. Flynn was real drunk. I'm not sure what he was doing there, but after he sat on my foot we came up here. That's when he told me a dragon lived next door, only I don't think you're a dragon. I think you're pretty nice."

"Thank you." Ann applied a small butterfly bandage to the wound, tugging the edges of the cut together. "There. I think you're just about fixed up. We need to wash the blood out of your hair and you'll be just as good as new."

Becky sat up, cautiously fingering the bandage on her head. "It doesn't feel very big." There was an element of disappointment in the words, and Ann hid a grin as she repacked her medical bag. Was there a child anywhere who didn't relish the idea of a big bandage

to show off once they were sure the injury itself was taken care of?

"It really wasn't a very big cut, just a nasty one. Don't tug on the bandage and don't get it wet. In a few days we'll take it off and you'll hardly be able to tell that you were ever hurt."

She lifted her head and was surprised to find that Becky was holding out her hand, her small face very solemn. "Thank you, Miss..." Her face scrunched up in thought and then she shook her head. "I can't remember your name."

"Ann. Ann Perry." Since it seemed to be expected of her, Ann took Becky's hand and shook it, biting the inside of her lip to hold back a smile at the quaintly adult gesture. "You're very welcome. I'm glad I was here."

"I've got the water ready. Should I put it in a bowl?"

Flynn stood at the top of the steps, his expression anxious. He looked like a tousled satyr. Three-quarters naked, his hair mussed, his face unshaven. Becky knelt to look over the back of the sofa at him and then she turned to look at Ann, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Ann couldn't help but grin.

"You can put it in the sink."

Flynn frowned. "The sink? That's not very sterile, is it?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Doesn't matter? Shouldn't things that contact an open wound be sterile?"

"It's not going to contact an open wound. We're all done."

"All done? Then what's the boiling water for?"

"You were hovering. I had to give you something to do."

"You mean I boiled that water for nothing?"

"You could make tea."

Becky giggled at Flynn's indignant expression. He glared at Ann a moment longer, well aware that she was enjoying this. Ann gave him her most bland smile, the one she reserved for pushy salesclerks. She was relieved when his eyes shifted to Becky.

"Well, urchin, you certainly look a lot less gruesome than you did a few minutes ago."

"Ann says that in a few days I'll be good as new."

"Why don't we rinse that blood out of your hair and get you a change of clothes and then it will be hard to tell that you've endured a terrible ordeal."

He stepped down into the living room and then grabbed for the towel as it threatened to fall. He flushed, but Ann's face turned scarlet. She was a doctor, she'd seen plenty of naked men, but she had the feeling she wasn't going to be able to put Flynn McCallister in the same category as her patients. She stood up, hoping he wouldn't notice the color in her face.

"Why don't I take care of Becky and you can get some clothes on?"

Flynn hesitated a moment and then looked at Becky. The little girl didn't seem to have any objections to Ann's suggestion. He smiled, and Ann felt her pulse pick up at the sheer beauty of the expression. When he smiled like that, he looked almost angelic. But she doubted that angels had muscles like that.

"Good idea. This towel isn't really the best thing for entertaining. Becky can show you her room. Her clothes are in there and there's a bathroom right next door."

He disappeared into the hallway. Ann and Becky followed more slowly. The room he'd given Becky was, like the rest of the apartment, beautifully decorated. Everything was of the highest quality. The McCallisters were hardly hurting for money so that wasn't surprising. What was surprising was the empty feel of the room. Not just empty because no one lived there, but empty like something that had once held life and was now drained. Ann felt a shiver run up her spine.

"It's pretty, isn't it?" She looked down at Becky and forced a smile. The word that came to mind was dead, but she could hardly say that to a child.

"Very pretty. Now, where are your clothes? We'll get you cleaned up."

Becky lifted a worn shopping bag onto the bed and carefully took out a stuffed giraffe and set him on the bed. Next came a well-thumbed book and a scuffed jewelry case. The final layer was clothing, folded as neatly as childish hands could manage.

Ann's heart twisted when she realized what she was seeing. This was clearly everything Becky owned in the world. She sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up the giraffe, keeping her head bent over the toy so that Becky wouldn't see the tears in her eyes.

"That's Frankie."

"He's very nice."

"I've had him since I was a baby."

"Did your mother give him to you?"

Becky hesitated a minute and then shook her head. "I think Daddy gave him to me."

Ann fingered the distinctive button in the toy's ear and filed away that bit of information.

"Daddy gave me this book, too."

Ann set the stuffed toy down and picked up the book. It was A Child's Garden of Verses, a beautiful leather-bound edition, old and much worn, showing the love of more than one generation.