When Hearts Collide (8 page)

Her stomach was as queasy as curdled milk. She’d been up with Gracie during the night when the child had had another nightmare. She hadn’t slept well after finally getting her settled. With lack of sleep, and Pearce coming home this morning, Molly was a jumble of nerves. Every time she visited him at the hospital, her stomach became a jumble of knots, and when he smiled at her, ripples of desire shook her body. She wasn’t sure if she could live in the same house twenty-four hours a day with her growing attraction to him. It was too late now. She had agreed and he was packed and ready to leave when she arrived.

Doctor Graham came into the room with Rita. Molly recognized the tall, fair-haired doctor from the emergency department the night of the accident. His smile was friendly as he gave discharge instructions. “I’ll be coming every few days to check the incisions are healing, that the pain medication is working, and how physiotherapy is going. This is the prescription for painkillers and a supply of intravenous antibiotics.”

Rita handed Molly a paper bag. “And this is the outpatient appointment for a month from now.”

Molly took the white piece of paper and shoved it in a side pocket of her tote bag. Rita helped Molly get Pearce into the wheelchair. She wished she could tell Rita she wouldn’t be seeing her in a month’s time. She’d developed a friendship with the nurse, and she hated lying to her.

Pearce was excited to be home, but the effort had not only exhausted him, but also caused a lot of pain. Molly gave him an analgesic, and now his eyes refused to stay open. His last waking thoughts were of his red-haired angel.

He had no idea why he was so fascinated by her. Who was she? Was it fate that she’d been there just at the right moment to help him and Gracie? What would have happened if she hadn’t been there? The police told him she’d pulled them out of the car. The gas tank was leaking, and she was afraid it might explode. What if it had? She’d saved their lives. Was that why he kept dreaming about her?

Pearce pictured Molly’s freckled elfin face and the locks of red hair that kept falling forward, concealing her deep green eyes, eyes that reminded him of emeralds. Her hair looked soft and thick and rich. What it would be like to run his fingers through those curls? Would they slip through his fingers like imported silk?

As he drifted into sleep, Pearce’s last impression was the whisper of scarlet curls caressing his cheek. He dreamed about soft red tresses, deep green eyes, a freckled elfin face. But the face had a body—a body lying beside him, its curves snuggling into his, soft and warm, melting against him.

Pearce slept until suppertime. Had he sensed her presence? The object of his dreams peeked around the doorframe.

“You finally awake?”

He blinked the sleep out of his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Suppertime. Are you hungry? I made a cake in celebration of your homecoming.”

“Cake sounds delicious.”

Her dimpled grin set off a little flutter in his chest. Was having her in his home, with her devastatingly attractive smile, going to prove too dangerous? Too late for that now. At least it was only for a short time. A few days where he could enjoy the effect she had on his body and his emotions, then he would be able to look after himself and Gracie, and she’d be on her way.

“Molly, can you help me to the family room? I’d like to watch the news.”

Molly brought the wheelchair close to the bed. She slid her arms around him, supporting him from bed to chair, and then again to the chesterfield in the family room. All the while he tried to deny the effect her closeness had on his body.

No one was hungry, so Molly made soup and sandwiches. They celebrated with cake and ice cream. He’d propped his legs up on an ottoman and watched a comedy rerun. Molly was coming back from putting Gracie to bed, and he called out to her. “You look tired. Come and sit.” He patted the chesterfield beside him.

“It shows, does it?” Molly plopped down on the other end of the sofa.

Her grin touched a soft spot that set his pulse racing. He grinned back. “Gracie can be a trial at times.”

“She was overtired with all the excitement of you coming home. Plus having a sugar rush from all the cake and ice cream she ate.” Molly sighed. “But she’s bathed, had a couple of stories read to her, and she’s finally asleep.”

“You look like you’re ready for bed yourself.”

Molly laughed. “I must admit I almost fell asleep. I had to lie down beside Gracie to keep her in bed, and my eyes were drooping before hers. I should have had a second helping of ice cream, too.”

Pearce watched her. He saw a wistful look come into her eyes. “Molly, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“I’ve wondered why you put your life on hold to stay here and look after us.” He smiled. “You were a lifesaver for me. I wouldn’t have been able to stand it if Gracie had been taken by Children’s Aid and put in a foster home, even if it was for a short time.”

“I didn’t want to see her go to foster care, either.”

Pearce tipped his head, examining her. Molly looked away, took one of the throw pillows, and hugged it to her chest. Was there more behind her words? He thought he detected a tension in the line of her lips.

“I feel like there’s more to it than just not wanting Gracie in foster care. Is there, Molly?”

Molly looked quickly at him, then averted her eyes. “No.”

He spoke softly. “Really?”

Molly met his gaze, watchful. He wondered if she was deciding if she could trust him. After a short pause, she spoke.

“I was in foster care. My sister and I.”

He took her hand and felt tiny electric shocks synapse between their bodies. He looked up. Had she felt it, too? There was an intense look to her eyes that made him wonder.

“How long were you in foster care?”

“Too long.”

Molly’s lips were a tight line, and a vein twitched in her neck. Pearce spoke softly. “Tell me about your childhood.”

She shrugged. “There’s not a lot to tell.”

“I have time.” Pearce lifted his casted leg. “I’m a captive audience.”

Molly laughed. “I guess you are.”

“Tell me.”

Shrugging again, Molly paused, as if wondering where to start.

“I was six and my sister was four when our parents were killed in a car accident.”

“I’m sorry.” He caressed her hand. “Was there no other family to take you?”

She shook her head.

“Were you unhappy?” He watched the expression in her eyes. A gleam converted the sadness.

“Surprising as it may seem, I wasn’t. I mean there were unhappy times, times when we thought we might be adopted and then had our hopes dashed. But the sisters were good to us, and we were together.” She smiled. “The orphanage wasn’t like a Dickens’ novel. We had lots of food. The nuns loved to cook and see us with our bellies full.”

“Was there anyone special?’

The smile widened.

“Yes, Gladys. I still keep in touch with her. She had been an orphan and understood what it was like. She took me and my sister under her wing.”

“What about your sister?”

“Lani is great.” Molly raised her eyebrows and grinned. “There was a time, though. She was pretty rebellious as a teenager.”

“And now?” Pearce asked.

Molly laughed. “Now, Lani has a wonderful life. An adoring husband, a nice house, and she’s having a baby in a couple of months.”

Pearce caressed her hand and asked, “And what does Molly want out of life?

“I guess I’m like most women. I want a man to love me, I want a family, I want a home to call my own.” Molly shrugged and looked out the night-darkened window. “I’m just cynical and don’t think it will be for me.”

“Why not? Your sister found it.”

“She was always lucky.”

Pearce saw the muscles in her cheek tighten and thought he detected a harshness in her tone. His voice softened. “And you aren’t.”

Molly continued to stare out the window. “Not really.”

“Has life been hard for you?”

She laughed, but her tone didn’t convey the lightness he thought she’d intended.

Pearce stretched out his arm and rubbed her shoulder. She pulled away, then used her shirtsleeve to wipe at the tears streaking down her cheek. “I’m so sorry. I don’t usually go on like this. I don’t really feel sorry for myself. I’m just over tired.”

He pressed a finger to her lips. “It’s okay. I’ve thrown you into something, haven’t I?”

Molly wiped away the last of the tears and smiled at Pearce. “Certainly not what I was expecting when I was driving by that night.”

“Tell me about Gladys.”

Pearce heard the tenderness in her voice as she talked about the woman who’d become her mother figure. It seemed that Gladys had provided the stability that had molded Molly into the person she was today. As he listened, he wished he’d had someone in his life like Gladys. He thought of his own parents and their austere and old-fashioned beliefs on childcare. Too often he’d been left to the mercy of uncaring nannies. He was determined that wouldn’t happen to Gracie. He wanted to be there for his daughter. He wanted to make sure she never had to live such a lonely childhood.

Molly glanced at her watch. “Look at the time. It’s been a long day, and you’re due for your antibiotic. I think I better get you settled for the night.” She yawned. “And me, too.”

As Molly got him comfortable in bed and ran his antibiotics, Pearce thought how lucky he was to have her here. Unable to keep his eyes open, his last thoughts were of his red-haired angel.

“I need to get out of this room.” Pearce slammed his hand on the desk.

“Where do you want to go?” Molly asked.

“Anywhere.” He threw his hands up in the air. “Anywhere beyond these four walls. I feel claustrophobic.”

“What about outside on the patio?”

“That would be better than being cooped up here.”

“Oh, goodie.” Gracie squealed. “Daddy’s going out to play.”

Molly brought the wheelchair to the bed and after helping Pearce into it, sat Gracie on his knee. The child wrapped her chubby arms around his neck. Molly saw the glimmer in Pearce’s eyes as he held his daughter close, and her heart skipped erratically. For the love of a good man. Her thoughts drifted to places they had no right going.

“Let’s go, Molly Mommy.”

“Hold on, Gracie.” Molly set the wheelchair in motion.

Molly wheeled them out to the patio. It was a soothing space filled with hibiscus trees, weigelia bushes, and a trumpet vine that coated the top of the pergola. She sat on a lounger, content to watch father and daughter interact.

Their hair color could not have been more of a contrast—his so dark it gleamed like black pearls and hers so blond it resembled winter wheat. But their features were alike—the bright blue eyes, the long lashes, the way their lips turned up at the corner when they smiled. Fortunately, the resemblance stopped at the nose. Gracie’s pug nose was much cuter than Pearce’s aristocratic one.

Gracie snuggled against her father and kept up a running commentary. The look of pride gleaming in Pearce’s eyes melted a chink in the wall of ice Molly had built so successfully around her heart. Tears pricked at her eyes and she had to blink them away.

Strange sounds came from somewhere close by. Her first thought was of an intruder of the human kind, her second, an intruder of the animal kind, but she saw no sign of either. Her protective instincts kicked into play as she thought of Gracie and Pearce’s safety.

The sound seemed to be coming from the line of trees at the back of the yard. Every muscle in her body tensed and she concentrated on the sound. It sounded like whimpering. Molly glanced at the house. It would take about fifteen seconds to sprint to the patio door, about fifty from the line of trees. She had to make sure her charges were okay.

“Pearce, do you hear that?”

“It sounds like an animal.”

“It may be hurt. I’m going to check.”

“Is that a good idea?” he asked.

“I’ll be careful,” Molly promised. “Gracie, stay here with your father.”

As she crept closer to the trees, the sound grew louder. Afraid of what she might find, either human or animal, her heart quickened. She couldn’t stand to hear anything in pain. She had to help.

Her hands shook as she pulled the branches apart, revealing a large dog. He lay licking a blood-matted area on his hip. Had he been hit by a car?

“Hey, boy, what happened?” Despite the softness in her voice, the dog shrank back, his eyes holding a look of terror. Had he been abused? Was he vicious?

Moving closer, she bent beside him. Molly tensed, afraid he might try to bite, but he seemed to sense she was trying to help.

She ran back to the house, took an old blanket out of her car, and spread it out on Gracie’s wagon. She spoke quickly to Pearce. “It’s a dog. He’s been hurt. I’m going to bring him to the kitchen and clean his wound.”

“Can I see him, Molly Mommy?”

“The dog’s afraid. He might get scared and bite. You wait here.”

Molly laid a blanket in the corner of the kitchen.

Gracie had followed her into the house. “Can I get him water, Molly Mommy?”

“That’s a very good idea. I’m sure he’s thirsty. Let’s get a bowl and put it by the blanket.”

The dog whimpered again as Molly came close. When she crouched beside him, he stretched out his tongue and licked her hand. His liquid brown-gold eyes were soft with gratitude. Molly slid her arms gently under the dog and gathered him into her arms.

He was much lighter than she had expected, and she could feel his ribs through the thick golden coat. “You poor boy. I don’t think you’ve had a good meal in a while.” She set him in the wagon and brought him up to the house. Gracie waited at the open kitchen door, watching while Molly laid the dog on the blanket. Pearce had wheeled himself to the patio door and maneuvered the chair inside.

“Can I pet him, Molly Mommy?”

“No,” Pearce warned. “He might bite.”

“Your dad’s right. We need to give him time to get used to us.” Molly sat on a kitchen chair and drew Gracie into her arms. They watched the dog as he checked out the kitchen, his eyes tired and cautious and fearful, as if he’d learned to be constantly on guard. After a few minutes, sensing he was somewhere safe, the dog slumped back onto the blanket. Without getting up, he lapped at the bowl of water until the last drop was gone.

“See, Molly Mommy, I told you he was thirsty. Do you think he wants some food?”

“I bet he does. Let’s see what we can find.”

She refilled the water bowl and put several slices of meat on a plate. They were gone in one gulp, so she added more. Finally full, the dog lay back on the blanket and closed his eyes.

Molly watched the sleeping animal and wondered where his owner was. She wanted to check the cut on his hip, but she would leave that for now. The blood had congealed, and the cut appeared to have stopped bleeding. He needed to rest now that his belly was full. In a few days, the dog would be better and, like her, would be on his way somewhere. He probably had a better idea of where he wanted to go than she did.

Thinking back over the last few days, Molly was surprised at how well she’d adapted to looking after a child. Gracie was busy, yet well behaved, and Molly loved caring for her. It made her heart ache to think that she might never have a child to call her own.

Gracie had clung to her for the first days after the accident, whining and having temper tantrums, now she seemed to be basking in having the security of having her and Pearce. She was still mischievous at times, but her bad behaviors had disappeared. Now she would play contentedly on her own, her cheerful chatter filling the house.

Watching her, Molly’s heart would ache with a despair so deep she thought it might never go away. Sometimes she had to hold her chest so the pain didn’t send her to her knees. After years of telling herself that having children and a family didn’t matter, Molly now realized that she’d been lying to herself.

The dog whimpered in his sleep. What was she going to do? Pearce was reluctant to keep a strange dog around Gracie, but the poor thing looked like he hadn’t had a decent meal in several days, and his coat was matted and coated with burs. Where had he come from? Was he lost, or had someone abandoned him? She watched the even rise and fall of his ribcage and knew she needed to keep him for a few days until he was well enough to be on his way.

“I’m sure he has a home,” Pearce said.

Gracie turned to her father. “Yes, with us.”

“No. He doesn’t belong to us.”

As if he knew decisions were being made about his future, the dog opened his soft brown eyes and looked at Pearce. Molly knelt beside the dog and stroked his fur. Gracie joined her, wrapping her arms around the dog’s neck. His tail thumped loudly as he tried to wash the child’s face. “I’m going to call him Trooper.”

“The way he’s wagging his tail, I think he likes that name,” Molly said to Gracie.

She decided to confront Pearce. Her nurturing needs were being challenged, but she had to protect the animal. “He’s friendly. He just needs a few good meals,” she said, her own eyes pleading the dog’s case. “Can we keep him until he’s better? We can try to find his owner in the meantime.”

“Molly, ever the rescuing angel.”

“We’ll keep him until then?” Gracie was jumping up and down. “Daddy, Daddy. We can keep him?”

Pearce grinned. “I guess that would make me the big bad wolf if I said no. Molly, are you sure the dog is safe around Gracie?”

She caressed the dog’s ruff, causing his tail to thump loudly on the floor. “I think he is. I’ll make sure I watch him with her.”

“Okay, Gracie, the dog can stay until he’s better. Then he needs to go home. Do you understand?”

The blond head nodded several times.

Pearce shook his head. The tension had vanished, and his smile widened. He held Molly’s gaze, and she saw the way his eyes changed; saw their brightness deepen to dark sapphire as a smoldering flame grew. A silent spark of communication surged between them, and Molly felt a shiver of awareness, not of Pearce as a father, but as a man.

The tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose, and her heart pounded like a jackhammer on cement. She noticed Pearce’s gaze. It was fixed on the telltale leaping pulse at the base of her neck, and she saw the slow sensual way his lips turned up at the corners. Her heart missed a few beats before racing on.

“Thank you, Daddy.” Gracie jumped up and tapped her shoes on the tile floor, setting off the lighting mechanism in her running shoes.

Thank you, Gracie
. Molly sighed. Saved by the flashing red lights. At least no one could hear the siren sounding in her head. Molly needed to start paying attention to warning signs. She needed to put a stop to her growing attraction for this man, and she needed to let Pearce know they had to curb this flirtation. But her body protested, screaming its need for something more. Then those lungs were gasping for air as she heard Pearce’s engaging laugh. He had tipped his head and was watching her. His voice was soft and rich.

“Are you turning me soft in the head? We’ve never had a dog. Too much trouble. I have enough to deal with taking care of Gracie.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll just add him to my line-up of patients,” Molly assured him.

He sighed deeply. “What can I do, I’m putty in your hands.”

Molly grinned at him, but felt her face redden as thoughts of molding Pearce in her hands took on a whole other connotation.