behind them and snapped on the light. Matt blinked at the sudden brightness, then blinked again at the sight of Becca in sweatpants, socks and an oversize T-shirt, her hair tousled from sleep, her cheeks pink with alarm and her green eyes narrowed in contemplation.
A strong surge of protectiveness swept through him, and startled him. He’d never had that response to a woman before—except for his mother in the last stages of her illness. Becca Warwick was a paradoxical mix of self-confidence and vulnerability. She carried herself with a defiant lift of her perfectly shaped chin, as if life had knocked her off her feet once, and she dared it now to take a swipe at her again.
“Emily woke me up and asked me to look at the lights.” His emotions left him strangely tongue-tied, feeling almost guilty, like a little boy who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I didn’t want her leaving the house alone, not if someone was out there.”
“Was anyone there?” Becca asked. “I didn’t see anything.”
“There was lights, Mommy. Ghosts.”
“There were lights,” Matt agreed, “but I couldn’t tell what they were. Does someone live back there?”
Becca shook her head, and a frown creased the smooth skin between her eyebrows. “It’s all woods for miles.”
“See,” Emily said with an emphatic nod, “I told you they were ghosts.”
“I doubt that, young lady.” Becca reached for her daughter and Matt handed the girl over. His hand brushed Becca’s, warm and soft.
“Probably hunters after coons,” Becca told Emily. “I’m putting you to bed.”
Becca gathered her daughter close, then turned to Matt, her expression softening. “Thanks for looking out for her.”
“My pleasure,” Matt said, surprised to realize it really had been.
“Will you turn out the light?” Becca asked.
Matt nodded, waited until they’d reached the stairs in the hall, then switched off the light.
As he crawled between the cold sheets in the guest room, he wondered what it would be like to be the man in charge of looking after Emily and Becca on a daily basis—for real.
The thought kept him awake for most of the night.
* * *
B ECCA COULDN ’ T DRIFT back to sleep. She kept picturing Matt with Emily in his arms, and the scene filled her with guilt. For years, she and Emily had done fine, first with Granny, then just the two of them. But seeing Matt holding Emily tonight had brought home with a vengeance the fact that her daughter had no significant male figure in her life.
Sure, there was Uncle Jake, but he was such a crusty old codger, he sometimes frightened the little girl. Her heart ached over Emily’s comments at supper about wanting a daddy. But Becca could think of no way to explain to a four-year-old that her father hadn’t wanted her or her mother.
Trying to find a comfortable position, she turned on her stomach and punched her pillow. This was all Matt Tyler’s fault. Emily hadn’t said anything about daddies until the doctor had arrived. And Becca hadn’t felt the stirrings of dissatisfaction, the sense that something was missing from her life until the too-handsome Dr. Wonderful had shown up at her door.
She slugged her pillow again. She didn’t need a man to make her happy. She’d been perfectly content with Emily and teaching at the one-room schoolhouse. So why did she ache now for something she couldn’t name?
The quicker she could move Matt out of her house in the morning, the better. Then her association with him would be limited to introducing him to his potential patients. After that she could forget he existed.
But right now, he was in the room below hers, his rugged good looks and easy charm enough to make any woman restless.
Becca took a deep breath. Grady had had that effect on her and look where she’d landed. She wouldn’t trade anything in the world for Emily, but she’d learned a valuable lesson. Never again would she risk such heartache and humiliation. No