Linda Conrad – The Gentrys: Cal (страница 2)

Cal thought that meant that Kaydie felt hot. But he wasn’t sure, and all he really wanted was to make her screaming come to an end. “Will kissing her make her stop that squalling?”

“Do you know nothing about children?” the woman muttered. “Putting my lips to her hot skin tells me this baby is burning up with fever. And you do nothing for her but complain about the crying?” Her gorgeous brown eyes were shooting sparks of anger in his direction.

“Hey. That’s not fair. I’m not—”

“Have you called her doctor?”

Cal shook his head. “We just moved here, and she was fine this morning.”

“And she is what…six months old?”

“Yes, almost, but—”

“Where is the kitchen?”

Cal pointed toward the back of the cabin.

“We shall see what we can do,” she said, and rushed off carrying the baby in her arms.

Cal stood at the open front door and stared after her. What had just happened here? The strange but spectacular-looking woman wasn’t dressed like any nanny he’d ever seen, and she’d never actually said she was a nanny, either.

It suddenly occurred to him that he’d just handed over his daughter to a total stranger. He stepped out to look around the cabin’s empty yard and began to wonder who this rather prickly and hotheaded woman might really be.

And who had brought her all the way out here? Come to think of it, Cal hadn’t heard any noises at all that might’ve been her transportation.

This morning he’d given Mrs. Garcia the keys to his Suburban when she’d demanded to be returned to civilization, and told her to just leave the truck at the bus station in Gentry Wells. The doctors wouldn’t let him drive yet, anyway, and Cal knew it would only take a phone call to his older brother, Cinco, to get transportation or supplies to them whenever necessary. So the cabin’s yard stood completely empty of vehicles.

But how did this stranger get her things out here if she came any other way? He looked around the front stairs and found one bundle that looked like rags tied together. The woman had obviously hidden it under some bushes.

Hmm. This definitely was not adding up.

She could be an escaped convict or a lunatic or any of a dozen unsavory characters. He’d handed over his tiny daughter to an exotic woman who just might be a crazed maniac. What was the matter with him? Had he been so mesmerized by a pretty face that he’d totally lost his mind?

Where were her references? How did she get here? His brain finally began working once again. He hadn’t even asked the most basic of questions. Like what the heck was her name?

He steadied himself with his crutch and, following the sound of his daughter’s cries, he limped toward the kitchen—and some answers.

Bella Fernandez fought back her irritation at the gringo’s lack of sympathy for the sick baby girl. She’d come begging for a little help and compassion for herself. But when she’d seen his seeming ignorance and confusion over the helpless child, righteous indignation got the best of her.

That had always been one of her worst faults, she sighed. Stepping in and opening her mouth when she should’ve kept her thoughts and opinions to herself. The current turmoil bringing her to this remote cabin in the United States stemmed from just that same sort of thing.

She gently laid the baby on the kitchen counter and removed the little girl’s dress and diaper. Murmuring to the child as she went, Bella quickly checked her over for any signs that this might be more than a simple childhood fever.

The baby wasn’t convulsing and had no skin lesions, rashes or contusions. She didn’t seem dehydrated. Her tears were falling easily, her lips weren’t dry or cracked. No yellow appeared in her eyes and she certainly wasn’t excessively lethargic or sleepy.

The swinging kitchen door opened up behind her. “What are you doing to my child?”

In the bright golden light of the late-afternoon sun streaming through the kitchen window, Bella noticed for the first time what the confused man really looked like. Early thirties, lean but broad-shouldered, his light-brown hair was cut short in back yet hung down over his forehead. Bella felt a crude rush of awakening but wished she hadn’t.

Instead of answering his question right away, she continued examining the baby and studying the man at the same time. She could tell a ladies’ man from miles away, and this one was most certainly qualified. His sharp, gray-green eyes focused intently on her. But those eyes also held an underlying potent sexual draw.

To complete the perfectly dashing picture, full lips and a cleft in his chin softened what would otherwise be a too severely chiseled jaw. That erotic magnetism in his eyes made him look rather devil-may-care and young.

All in all, his looks succeeded in showing off a thrilling mixture of allure put together with a rock-hard promise of passion. She turned her back to him and concentrated her attentions on the baby.

Yes, most women would definitely fall under the spell of this charmer. Good thing she wasn’t most women.

Bella’s first lesson about charming men came from trying to get the attention of the dashing man who was her father. After she grew up, she became engaged to another charmer—and that one really brought home the point.

Given a choice, she’d rather stay a hundred miles away from an attractive and lady-pleasing man like this gringo, but right now she saw no other alternative. She would not leave a sick child, no matter what.

Without turning around, she finally asked a couple of questions of her own. “Do you have a flashlight and a baby thermometer?”

“What? Why?” He came close and looked over her shoulder. “What’s wrong with Kaydie?”

“I told you, she has a fever. I’m trying to determine why and how bad it might be.” Bella never looked up at him, though she could feel his body’s warmth seeping through her thin clothes, making her wonder if she might be running a fever, too. “Where is the child’s mother?”

A long, deadly silence followed her question, and Bella realized the baby had quieted down.

“My wife, Kaydie’s mother, was killed in a car accident a couple of months ago.” His voice was so hushed, Bella could barely make out the words.

He laid a firm hand on Bella’s shoulder. “Who are you?”

Keeping both hands on the baby’s warm body, Bella turned her head to answer him. “I’m sorry for your recent loss, señor. My name is Isabella Maria Fernandez. But please call me Bella.” She managed a half smile, trying to ignore the brushfire he’d ignited inside her with his touch. “Can we have our discussions later? Right now your daughter’s welfare should be your first concern.”

“She is my first concern.” His fingers dug lightly into her shoulder. “Where are you from, Bella? Who sent you?”

“No one sent me.” Did this man not realize how potentially serious a high fever could be? “Please. I will tell you everything just as soon as I am satisfied the baby is not in immediate danger.”

“What do you know about this kind of thing? Do you have children of your own, or are you a doctor?”

His hold on her shoulder tightened, and she winced involuntarily. “In my country I am a licensed nurse. I received training in the United States to be what you call a practical nurse.” She tried to twist free of his grip. “Por favor, you’re hurting me. Let me do what I can for your daughter. Then we will talk.”

He eased his hand from her shoulder, but his six-foot frame towered over them as he continued to keep a steady watch on his daughter. Bella thought he must truly be concerned and aware of his duty to his own flesh and blood, but he didn’t seem to know the first thing about how to care for a sick child.

“Do you have a flashlight and a baby thermometer?” she repeated.

“I saw a flashlight in this drawer.” He pulled open a cabinet drawer and handed her the heavy metal light. “There may be a thermometer in Kaydie’s things in the front room. I haven’t had a chance to unpack yet.”

He hesitated while Bella coaxed the baby to open her mouth. With one free hand she held the child’s head and with the other Bella pointed the light down her throat.

The father looked as if he wanted to pace the floor, but his obvious leg injuries held him back. “I’ll go look through her things for a thermometer. I think the boxes are marked.” He took his crutch and began to limp toward the doorway but turned before he’d gone through. “Will she be all right?”

“Yes. Your daughter should be okay. Her throat looks fine and she doesn’t seem to be in as much distress as she was when I arrived. Let’s just take her temperature to be sure, though. Okay?”

The norteamericano father nodded once then disappeared on his mission.

“Ah, niña,” Bella cooed to the child. “What are you doing way out here with a man who can barely help himself, let alone take care of a baby? Why is there no woman to attend to you?”

Bella had been struck by the lack of emotion in the gringo’s voice when he’d mentioned his wife’s death. Perhaps he was still so grief-stricken that he dared not even speak of her in case he broke down. Bella knew lots of men in Mexico who would act in that same way. She vowed not to mention the baby’s mother again unless he brought her up first.