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Everybody's Hero
By Karen Templeton Harlequin Enterprises, Ltd.
Copyright © 2004 Harlequin Enterprises, Ltd.
All right reserved. ISBN: 0-373-27398-3
Chapter One
The child's cry knifed straight to her soul.
Although how in heaven's name Taylor heard it over the din of little banshees currently running amok in the Sunday school room, she had no idea. Frowning, she scanned the swarm of Frazier and Logan kids streaking across the room, but nope - everybody certainly seemed fine in here....
Seven-year-old Noah Logan bounced off her thighs, knocking her off balance.
"Sorry, Miz Taylor," he mumbled breathlessly, taking off again as she grabbed the window sill to right herself ... and saw the man standing outside by the mud-splattered SUV, the sobbing child clinging to him as though he'd fall off a cliff if he let go.
"Keep an eye on things, Blair, would you?" she said to the auburn-haired teenager a few feet away and then scooted outside, her retinas cowering in the blazing June sunlight. Barely eight in the morning and heat already oozed off the parking lot black-top, welding her feet to her running shoes and promising to be one of those just-wanna-take-off-your-skin days. Then a dollop of shade bumped the sun from her eyes and heat took on a whole 'nother definition. Even without being able to fully see the man's face.
Strong, broad back underneath a khaki workshirt. Broken-in jeans smoothed over abutt that was truly the stuff of fantasies. Bourbon highlights etched in short, dark, finger-tingling wavy hair. Tall enough to definitely get a girl's attention.
And send that girl's libido streaking like an overfriendly pup through the door of her common sense.
With a sigh, Taylor grabbed her libido by the scruff of the neck and yanked it back inside, slamming shut the door, thinking, Joe Salazar, I presume. The man Didi had told her about yesterday, who was here for the summer - and only the summer - to oversee the remodel of the Double Arrow, Hank Logan's guest lodge. Only, judging from the obviously unhappy child currently sobbing his heart out in Joe's arms, right now the dude had more on his plate than the renovation of an old motel.
Maybe around eight or so and the picture of misery, the little boy noticed her still standing several feet away. Pure terror widened deep brown eyes, which vanished into the man's neck as he wailed, "Don't l-leave me, Joe, please don't leave me!"
"Hey, buddy ... we went all over this, remember?" Tanned - and no doubt competent - fingers rubbed the space between the boy's shoulder blades, belying the frustration lurking at the edges of the low, country drawl not uncommon to Latinos born and bred in this part of the world. "There's lots of other kids here -"
"But I d-don't know any of them! What if they're m-mean? Or they don't like m-me?"
"I know, I know, this is all real scary. And believe me, I don't want to leave you, either -"
"Then why are you?"
Taylor saw Joe gently set the boy on his feet, then stoop to look him in the eye. "I don't have any choice, Seth," he said softly, massaging one frail-looking shoulder. "You know that. I've got work I can't put off anymore. Lots of people are depending on me to do my job, which I can't do if I'm worried you might get hurt. It's not safe, letting you hang around a construction site, you know? Besides, you'll be bored out of your mind -"
"I don't care! And I won't get hurt, I promise! I'm big enough to take care of myself! I used to stay home alone all the time!"
Taylor's stomach clenched at the child's admission as Joe stood, his body language reeking of displeasure. "Maybe so. But things are different now. And I could get in a lot of trouble if I didn't make sure you were looked after properly while I was at work. So let's go -"
But the boy saw Taylor again and backed away, shaking his head and whimpering. Joe turned and saw her, too, the help me expression on his face undeniable.
And undeniably dangerous for someone whose sorry libido piddled on the carpet at the mere sight of wide shoulders and a nice butt. However, the guy was obviously in a bind, and Taylor was obviously going to help him because that's what she did. Either that, or the heat was already getting to her.
"Let me guess," she said with a smile, slipping her hands into the back pockets of her white denim shorts. "Somebody's not exactly hot on the idea of day camp."
She caught a flash of annoyance in eyes even darker than the boy's, the tensing of a jaw already hard enough to break something over, both of which seemed at odds with the tenderness he'd shown the child just seconds before. And an immediate, second flash of what she guessed was guilt. "We came by yesterday, talked to the pastor's wife," he said. "I'm Joe Salazar. And this -" he touched the boy's curly hair "- is Seth."
"Yes, I know," Taylor said softly, tearing her gaze from those treacherous, conflicted eyes and back to the child's wary, wet ones. Lord, it was killing her not to gather the little guy into her arms and hug him to pieces. But even if doing so wouldn't spook the poor kid, she had a real strong feeling it would take a lot more than a hug or two to ease the deep, deep sadness weighing down his small shoulders. She glanced back at Joe long enough to catch his puzzled expression. "Didi told me about you, said you'd probably be bringing Seth this morning."
The child shifted closer to Joe, his long, spiked eyelashes canopying blatant distrust before he scrubbed away his tears with the hem of his T-shirt. That got another borderline anxious glance from his father, although Taylor gave him megapoints for not fussing at the boy or telling him to stop being a sissy, that big boys weren't supposed to cry, like a lot of the men around here were inclined to do with their sons. And maybe because of that, or the humidity, or because her libido had nosed open the door and slipped out again, she picked up a whiff of aftershave-soaked male pheromones that damn near shorted out her brain.
Joe looked back at her, sunlight slashing across prominent cheekbones to create some very interesting shadows on his face, sharply defining a mouth straight out of an Eddie Bauer catalog. "We might have a problem here," he said.
You have no idea, Taylor thought, only she said, "I can see that," because she imagined the man had more pressing things on his mind than her wayward hormones. And God knows, she did. So she thrust out her hand, hoping like heck the man's would be clammy and limp when she shook it.
As if. Still, she smiled and said, "I'm Taylor McIntyre. I run the day camp with Didi." Then she let go of the not-clammy, not-limp, extremely male hand and smiled down at the little boy, who wore the cautious expression of someone on the lookout for fangs. "How old are you, Seth?"
Long pause. Then: "Eight."
She squatted in front of him, trying to look as unthreatening as possible. A gust of hot, humid wind yanked a strand of curly hair out of her ponytail, tangling it in her eyelashes. "I know how scary new situations are," she said gently, "but it sounds to me like your daddy's got a lot of work to do -"
"Joe's my brother," the boy said. "Not my dad."
Taylor's eyes shot to Joe's, only to meet with a guarded expression. Seth's brother? He looked to be around Taylor's age - in his early thirties at least - which would make the child more than twenty years younger. However, she could tell from the look on Joe's face that whatever questions she might have would have to wait. If he would ever be inclined to answer them at all. Not that Taylor was any expert on the male thought process, God knew, but in her experience, men with stony expressions like Joe Salazar's didn't tend to be the most forthcoming souls in the world.
Then again, the frustrated-hand-through-the-hair gesture said plenty. "I'm sorry," he said with what Taylor was going to accept as genuine regret, "but I've got a crew waiting for me, I really need -"
"Got it." She smiled at Seth, steeling herself against the wobbly lower lip. "Okay, sweetie, let's go inside -"
"No!"
But Joe swung the kid up into his arms and started for the building, his cowboy boots pounding the sun-baked earth. Over the standard "It's gonna be okay, buddy" noises, a veritable swarm of pheromones drifted back to Taylor on the warm, muggy breeze.
She mentally stood aside and let them play on through, then followed Joe and Seth inside.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Everybody's Hero by Karen Templeton Copyright © 2004 by Harlequin Enterprises, Ltd.. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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