Dr. Dad

“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.

Oh, well. Starr nudged open the window and peered inside—it looked safe and normal, so she swung feetfirst into the playroom.

“Kitty?” she called, pausing to listen for anything that might be an animal. Of course, she had no idea if the feline was still inside the building—which made her present actions rather foolishly quixotic.

“Kitty, Kitty...?” Starr plowed through a pile of cushions along the wall, calling, then waiting, then calling again. She checked the closet and caught a whiff of smoke drifting down from the attic access.

“Terrific,” she muttered.

Circling the room, she shifted scattered toys and furniture, finally hearing a faint hiss.

“Kitty?”

Dropping to her knees, Starr peered into the shadowed space between the wall and a giant stuffed teddy bear. A pair of amber eyes glimmered from the corner.

“Okay, come here,” she coaxed, reaching toward him.

The feline sent out a lightning set of claws and raked the back of her hand. The attack was accompanied by a low growl, similar to the sound of angry bees. She clenched her jaw and grabbed a second time. This time both hands were slashed, leaving beads of scarlet welling on her skin.

“Wretch,” Starr hissed back at the cat. “I’m leaving, and you’re leaving with me.”

With her third grab Starr grasped the back of “Kitty’s” neck and hauled him out, spitting and struggling.

“Stop that,” she ordered, giving the feline a small shake. She held it up and glared into its almond-shaped eyes. After a long second of primal communication, the animal went limp and she stuffed it inside her jacket. Kitty promptly dug his claws into her body for balance, but Starr was beyond caring.

There was a startled shout as she swung onto the tree branch, and from the corner of her eyes she saw Noah Bradley running across the yard. A faint smile curved her mouth. Dr. Bradley had “establishment” written all over him, but he still made her feel warm and shivery in the pit of her stomach. You could tolerate a lot from a man like that.

“Get the hell down here!”