Teresa Hill (2 page)

“The tooth fairy.” Luke was still whispering, as if he couldn’t say it out loud.

She laughed, a sound that invited everyone around to laugh with her. Joe would have, if he’d been able to make a sound.

“But tooth fairies are magic,” she said quite seriously. “I’m just a dentist.”

Then she pulled a quarter from behind Luke’s right ear and handed it to him.

“Wow! Did you see that, Dad? She
is
magic.”

Dr. Carter was still grinning down at his son. Her hand headed for Luke’s other ear, and before Joe could say anything, she pulled a plastic spider ring from behind him.

“Wow!” Luke just stared up at her and grinned.

“So, what seems to be the problem here, Luke? Or are you just here for a checkup?”

“I dunno,” Luke said, Mr. Innocent now.

“I need to talk to you,” Joe said, not wanting to explain the problem in front of Luke.

“All right.” Dr. Carter turned back to his son. “Luke, I have a very special chair that goes up and down when you press this little button. How ’bout I let you sit in it and take it up and down?”

“Can I really?”

“Sure.” She helped Luke into the chair and showed him the button. “But you have to promise that when Mary comes in to count your teeth and when I check them, you’ll leave the chair alone. Deal?”

She held out her palm. Luke slapped it with enthusiasm. “Deal!”

The chair was revving up and down when the dentist led Joe from the room.

“Don’t the kids wear out the chairs?” he said.

“Eventually, but it makes them happy to take them up and down.” She said it as if that was the only thing that mattered—making the children happy. “Besides, it’s impossible to keep them from playing with the chairs, kind of like telling them to be still or to stay out of the mud on a rainy day. So I cut a deal with them—they can play for a minute, get it out of their system, then they have to leave the chairs alone while we work.”

She led him down the hall, opening a heavy wooden door to the right and offering him a seat in front of her desk. The desk was old and solid, made of polished cherry, and he guessed it weighed a ton. Joe couldn’t help but admire it.

“They don’t make pieces like this these days,” he said, running a finger around the intricate trim work.

“I know. This was my father’s. In fact, almost all the furniture in here was his.” She stood beside a big leather swivel chair that seemed as if it would swallow her.

Joe glanced around the room, saw bookshelves overflowing with thick heavy texts, a dozen or so plants of all sizes and shapes that almost took over the room, and another glass cabinet with dozens of fairy figurines inside it.

“You’re really into this tooth-fairy thing, aren’t you?”

“My father was. He was a dentist, too, and he’s been collecting fairies since before I was born. He died last year.”

“Sorry,” Joe said. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

She shrugged as if it didn’t matter. But Joe knew it did. The woman who’d been so animated in the other room with his son was quite different now. No mischievous smile waited on her lips, no twinkle in those amazing blue eyes. Joe wished he hadn’t taken her smile away.

“So.” She moved to the front of the desk, then leaned against it. “What’s wrong with Luke?”

Joe ran through the list in his head. Luke wouldn’t give up his teeth. In fact, the ones he
had
given up to the tooth fairy, he’d cried and begged to buy back within days of giving them up. He played dentist at school, tearing out Jenny’s tooth, and was in some kid’s mouth with a flashlight in the lunchroom earlier that day. He had a mother who’d left and probably wasn’t ever coming back. How much of that could Joe share with this woman who pulled quarters from behind little boys’ ears to make them smile?

“It can’t be that bad,” she offered, then reached a hand out to him.

Joe sat back in the chair. He felt her fingertips brush his chest above the pocket of the clean shirt he’d donned in the truck before he picked Luke up from school, and then she pulled a long yellow scarf from his shirt pocket. It seemed to take forever, and Joe was baffled by the whole procedure.

Being this close to the woman, having her touch him, having her smile at him, then blush as if she’d embarrassed herself—it all baffled him.

Because it felt so good.

Time to go out on a date, he supposed, dismissing the idea just as quickly as he considered allowing another woman into his life. One had been more than enough.

And then he looked up at the woman with the yellow scarf in her small elegant hands, a flush of color in her cheeks.

Here, he thought with flashes of unease shooting through him, was a woman who just might be able to change his mind about that. Not that he wanted it to change. He certainly didn’t intend to let another woman get anywhere near his kids.

Samantha froze, like a mischievous kid caught red-handed, as Joe Morgan sat there, staring at her. He didn’t so much as blink, didn’t say anything. He looked bewildered at first, then impossibly stern.

“I…I’m so sorry,” she stammered, as heat flooded her cheeks. She explained as best she could. “Force of habit.”

“Habit?” the striking, dark-haired man said.

She nodded and tried not to stumble over her words. “I do little tricks. To make the children smile. And…”

It had been sheer impulse. She’d seen him sitting there looking sad, so she’d done the first thing that popped into her head—pull a silk scarf from his shirt pocket. Except he was no scared little boy. He was a man. A very attractive man. And she’d just made a fool of herself.

“You looked…troubled,” she said, wondering if he’d felt anything at all when she touched him.
She
certainly had. Something like a little jolt of static electricity, only better. Something like magic, except Samantha wasn’t sure she believed in magic anymore. She suddenly felt foolish for all the years she had believed. It seemed so naive now.

“It’s been a difficult day,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” she said, thinking she’d like to know about his day, like to know if his had truly been nearly as bad as hers and whether he had any idea how to fix it. Maybe he could tell her how to fix hers, how to fix everything. He looked like a man who fixed things.

Samantha stared at him, at long legs encased in well-worn jeans, cowboy boots splattered with dried mud, but a clean shirt, the sleeves rolled up nearly to his elbows. He had the kind of all-over tan worn by a man who worked outside year-round, and the lean corded muscles in his arms indicated he did something physical and likely did it well.

He dusted off his jeans—maybe because he’d caught her staring—and sawdust went flying.

“Sorry. I came straight from work,” he said. “I’m a mess by this time of day.”

“No problem,” she assured him, fingering the shapeless white coat she wore. “I get messy, too. Which is why I live in these.”

She thought about taking off the ugly white coat, but she worried the gesture might be…misinterpreted.

“You must work outside,” she guessed.

“Yes. I’m a builder.”

He said it as if she might find something objectionable in that. She didn’t. He was obviously a strong man and he was gorgeous, in a rough-and-tumble sort of way. What was there for any woman to object to?

Samantha’s only problem was that she’d lost all track of the conversation and forgotten the reason he was here.
His son.
That was it. Did that mean he had a wife, too?

She checked as discreetly as possible and saw no ring on his left hand. Women did that these days, she’d found. Regularly. For some women it was an automatic action. Check the hand. No ring? No telltale pale band of skin on the ring finger? He wasn’t shy about giving out his home phone number? Didn’t find excuses why you shouldn’t call him at home? He was likely single.

Samantha hadn’t put any of those tactics into practice—until now—but she’d learned all the signs that indicated a married man. Just in case she was ever interested enough to check out a man.

So far, she hadn’t been. She’d hardly met any men at all since she’d been here. At the dentist’s office it was almost all mothers and children, which made this man even more intriguing.

Oh, come on.
Samantha admitted he’d be intriguing under any circumstances, and she was staring quite rudely, probably making a fool of herself. She was sadly out of practice. It showed in everything she’d said and done to him. She could relate to seven-year-olds better than grown men. And he had a seven-year-old. An adorable one, which made him strictly off-limits, him and his kid.

“Mr. Morgan—”

“Joe,” he cut in.

“Joe.” She liked the sound of his name on her lips. “About Luke—what can I do for him? And for you?”

Looking wary again, Joe just stared at her, then finally started to talk. “Luke has been behaving strangely lately.”

“You can tell me,” she said encouragingly because this seemed to be so difficult for him.

“It’s…I don’t understand it. He’s obsessed with teeth. Yesterday, on the playground at school, he tried to pull out a little girl’s tooth. Today in the cafeteria, he had a flashlight and his hand inside a little boy’s mouth…”

“Oh.” Samantha considered for a minute. “Does he by any chance go to St. Mark’s?”

“Yes. Why?”

She’d definitely embarrassed him now, and she felt bad.

“I’ve been getting some calls from St. Mark’s. I think I saw his patient, Jenny, yesterday. I’ve been wondering about my competitor, actually.”

“The little girl’s all right, isn’t she? Please tell me Luke didn’t do any damage.”

Samantha wanted to reassure him, felt an almost overwhelming urge to touch him. With the kids, she was generous with her smiles, her laughter, the touch of her hand on a shoulder. But this was a man, she reminded herself again. And she’d already made a fool of herself with her little bag of tricks.

“Jenny’s fine.” She managed to keep her hands to herself and rushed on, “She would have lost the tooth in a few days, anyway.”

“Thank goodness for that,” he said.

“So, what else is Luke doing?”

“He’s so caught up in this whole tooth thing. At first I thought it was money. But after he lost his first tooth and put it under his pillow, the…uh…”

“The tooth fairy came to visit?” she suggested.

“Yes, and he got his money. Then he decided he’d rather have the tooth back. He came and asked if he could buy it back.”

Samantha laughed. “I hope you agreed.”

“Yes. He put his two dollars under his pillow without complaining at all about the loss of the money, and the next morning, there was his tooth.”

“Good,” Samantha said. He was willing to play along, for the sake of his son. “So what did he do with the tooth?”

“He put it in a jelly jar on the shelf in the top of his closet, along with the other three teeth he’s lost. He’s saving them.”

“For what?”

Joe shrugged. “I don’t know. He hasn’t said. Do you think you could explain to my son that dentists are the only people allowed to pull teeth?”

“Of course.”

“He’s up to something. I don’t know what.”

“Something to do with baby teeth? And magic? And wishes?”

Joe nodded.

Once again she wanted to touch him, to soothe him just a bit, maybe make him smile again. She had a feeling he wasn’t normally such a stern-looking man.

“What does Luke want?”

Joe took a moment and then said quietly, “I’m afraid to ask.”

“Something that’s not within your power to give?” she guessed.

Joe nodded again.

Samantha couldn’t help but wonder where Mrs. Morgan was right now, and she sensed that was the answer to Luke’s wishes and to his father’s obvious discomfort. She wouldn’t pry any further, because she suspected this man’s pride had taken a beating somewhere along the way. But taking a closer look at his left hand, she now found that strip of paler skin that told her, until recently, he’d worn what she suspected was a wedding ring.

Poor Luke, she thought. What had happened to his mother?

“I’ll give Luke my standard speech on the importance of taking care of teeth, letting them come out when they’re ready—all that good stuff,” she said. And she’d throw in a few more magic tricks to make Luke smile.

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

And then, because there was nothing left to do, she excused herself to go talk to Luke and left Joe in the peace and quiet of her office.

She was back fifteen minutes later, having left Luke in the waiting room admiring one of her displays of fairy figurines and not sure she’d been any help at all. Joe Morgan stood with his back to her, his impossibly broad shoulders seeped in tension. She wished there was something she could do to soothe him, too.

“Hi,” she said, walking in and closing the door behind her.

He turned around and looked at her, waiting, obviously hoping. She hated disappointing him.

“I’m sorry. Luke has a mouthful of beautiful, absolutely healthy teeth and a whole lot of secrets. I tried my best, but I couldn’t get him to crack.”

Joe smiled. “Really put on the pressure, did you, Doc?”

“I tried,” she reassured him. “He’s very bright. He asked me all sorts of questions about baby teeth. How many kids have and when they start to lose them, how long it takes before they’re all gone. He says he has a friend who’s good with numbers who’s going to help him figure everything out. He mentioned something about a formula. I hope we’re talking mathematical and not chemical.”

Joe laughed. “I’ll lock up his chemistry set.”

“That would probably be a good idea.”

“Luke is a schemer. Always has been. He gets an idea in his head, and he doesn’t let go of it. Not for anything.”

“Which is not necessarily a bad trait.”

“In an adult. It’s hell in a kid, especially when you’re the one trying to raise him.”

Samantha shrugged, telling herself not to get drawn in too deeply. She was just here to take care of kids’ teeth. She always got in too deep, always cared too much. Surely she’d learned her lesson by now.