Free Trouble in Tourmaline (Silhouette Special Edition) by Jane Toombs Page B

had a dog, but Mommy made him give it away ’cause it smelled, she said. It sort of did but the dog liked me, I could tell.”
    David found himself elated when she referred toMurdock simply as “he.” Obviously she didn’t think of him as Daddy Brent.
    “You like animals, don’t you?” Amy said.
    Sarah nodded.
    In Amy’s apartment, Sarah finally let go of his hand to climb up onto a stool at the kitchen counter. She sipped at the glass of limeade Amy handed her, looking down at the glass, rather than at either of them.
    David had mentioned his daughter had a limp, Amy thought, but it wasn’t noticeable. Possibly because she wore what looked like orthopedic shoes. One could have a lift inside. Her eyes were the same gorgeous blue as David’s. Except for her momentary animation over the kittens, Sarah seemed quite shy. A quiet child often was a child with problems.
    “Have a cookie,” David said, pushing the basket of cookies toward Sarah. When she hesitated, he added, “It’s okay.”
    She took one, nibbling at it.
    “If you like, you can take the cookie with you,” Amy said, certain that the little girl must be eager to see the kittens.
    David drained his glass, grabbed another cookie and slid off his stool. “Let’s go, sweetheart.”
    He glanced at Amy and she could see his indecision, see him weighing the odds—should he ask her to join them or not? She figured he wouldn’t. For one thing he was peeved with her and for another, he must want to get reacquainted with his daughter.
    “Want to come?” he asked, surprising her.
    “Just for a moment to see the kittens,” she told him.
    She stayed long enough to watch Sarah drop to her knees beside the box, her face rapt as she gazed at cat and kittens.
    “Your father named two of them,” Amy said to her. “Hobo’s the mother and Sheba is the tiny black one.”
    David took Sarah’s hand and held it close to Hobo’s nose for the cat to sniff. “This is Sarah,” he said. “She’s my daughter and your friend.” He let go of Sarah, reached into the box and picked up the black kitten. “Hold out your hands,” he told Sarah.
    When she did, he deposited the kitten onto her palms. “Look,” he said, “Sheba’s eyes are beginning to open. Kittens keep them closed for a week or so after they’re born.”
    Sarah studied the kitten intently. “Just a little open,” she said at last. “Do you think she likes me?”
    David glanced at Amy as if for help, so she answered. “Sheba’s too small to know about liking yet, but I’m sure she feels safe with you holding her because you’re so very careful.”
    “I like her,” Sarah said. “I like her best of all.”
    “That’s good,” David told her, “because Sheba is going to be your kitten.” He lifted Sheba as he spoke and eased her down next to her mother. “Right now she needs to eat like her brothers and sister.”
    Sarah stared at her father, awestruck. “I get to have my own kitten?”
    “You sure do. After all, I have my own cat.”
    Sarah digested this, finally smiling broadly.
    Amy knew an exit cue when she saw one. “See you guys later,” she told them. “Welcome to Tourmaline, Sarah.”
    After the door closed behind Amy, Sarah turned to her father. “Do you think Amy likes me?”
    What was all this business about worrying whether animals or people liked her? he wondered. He didn’t recall his daughter being so unsure of herself before.
    “I’m willing to bet she does.”
    “She’s nice.”
    “Yes, she is,” he said absently, troubled about Sarah. Had he ever in his life told her he loved her? He was ashamed that he couldn’t remember. Unable to get the words out now, he tousled her hair. “I’m sure glad you’re with me in Tourmaline, punkin,” he told her.
    She giggled. “You used to call me that before.”
    “And you used to tell me you weren’t a pumpkin, that pumpkins were round and orange.”
    Her pleased grin was his reward for remembering.
    “You never