“Yes, Daddy. I’m fine,” she said timidly.
“What in the— world … made you behave like that?”
Hailey interrupted the cross-examination, feeling it would be better postponed. “I’m taking Faith to the infirmary in the golf cart. I think she’s fine, but I want to make sure.” She ushered the girl over to the golf cart Dawson had requested for them.
“Now look here, Miss—”
“Mr. Dawson will be glad to show you the way,” Hailey told the man coldly as she engaged the gears of the small cart and steered it around a group of boisterous teenagers. Had she looked back, she would have seen him standing with his hands on his hips, glowering at her as though it would give him the greatest pleasure to strangle her.
By the time Hailey and Faith arrived at the infirmary in the compound, they had become fast friends. They were chatting amiably when they stepped into the small brick building. Since the nurse was occupied with a middle-aged man who was suffering from overexertion, Hailey took Faith into one of the small treatment rooms.
“Tell me if I hurt you,” she murmured as she softly applied the sticky ointment from a silver tube to the welts on Faith’s breast. No sooner had she finished than they heard the front door being thrust open and footsteps rushing into the reception room. “That’s Daddy,” Faith said miserably. “He’s gonna be so mad at me.”
“You let me handle him. Would you like that Coke now?” Hailey asked calmly.
“Yes, please. Do you mind if I drink it in here?”
Hailey smiled, understanding Faith’s reluctance to face her father just yet. “You may stay in here as long as you like.”
She shut the door behind her and faced the man who was pacing back and forth in front of the nurse’s desk. “Where is she?” he asked peremptorily. Hailey knew she had never encountered a man as rude as this one.
“She’s in the treatment room,” she replied and went to a refrigerator on the opposite wall. “I told her I’d bring her a Coke.”
“A Coke!” he exploded. “She’s drinking a Coke at a time like this?”
Hailey calmly ignored him as she flipped off the tab on the can and carried it without another word into the other room. Faith was sitting on the examination table reading the anti-smoking posters on the wall and swinging her long, thin legs.
“Thank you,” she said politely when Hailey handed her the drink.
Hailey eyed the girl carefully as she asked, “Faith, where is your mother?”
Faith lowered her head and mumbled into her chest, “She died. A few months ago.” Hailey had thought as much. “I think I should tell your father about the stings, don’t you?” Faith nodded and Hailey patted the girl on her bare knee before slipping through the door again and shutting it firmly behind her.
Faith’s father was sitting on the edge of the imitation leather sofa, but he bolted off it when Hailey closed the door. “You may want to sit back down,” she said. “I have a form to fill out.”
She went behind the desk, trying not to notice that he was fuming. She took the necessary accident report form out of the desk drawer and put it into the typewriter.
“Now, what—”
“To hell with your bloody forms, Miss Ashton. I want to know about my daughter—now.” The voice wasn’t as loud or exasperated as it had been earlier. But it was twice as deadly. He had moved away from the couch to stand directly beside her.
She looked up at him. He was leaning on his palms, his arms spread wide as he bent over the desk. His face was close to hers. Alarmingly close. For the first time, she saw him as a man, and not a contrary guest who had turned an otherwise routine day into a calamitous one.
His arresting eyes were as cold and determined as she had noticed before. His nose was long and slender and flared slightly at the nostrils. His mouth was wide; it was thinned now in a resolute expression, but when relaxed it would be full and sensuous. His chin and jaw were hard and stubborn and indicated a force of will dangerous to anyone brave enough to parry with it. His hair was still mussed, but lay against his head in well-cut strands that were attractively streaked with silver at the temples.
A blue polo shirt stretched across his wide chest and the muscles of his tanned upper arms. His casual slacks, a darker blue than his shirt, fit easily over his taut, narrow hips and hard thighs. At the base of his leanly corded neck, through the open collar of his shirt, Hailey could see a hint of the dark hair that surely matted the awesomely masculine chest.
Leaning over her as he was, he was much more intimidating than he had been when she was surrounded by a crowd of people. His strength and purpose were nothing to tangle with. Only a fool would try. His very maleness was a palpable force. She swallowed and, relying on her professional demeanor, said, “Faith was stung by a bee. I have applied an antiseptic-analgesic ointment to the bites. She’s resting.“
His breath escaped with a sigh of relief. He straightened, wiping his damp forehead with the back of his hand. When he had realized that his daughter was in no real danger, Hailey again fell victim to his impaling, incisive eyes. “What the hell was all the fuss about then? Why didn’t she just tell me what had happened to her instead of running away and hiding like that?”
“The bee flew under her blouse. It stung her on her breast.” She looked at him steadily. He stared back at her. No emotion was apparent in his gray eyes or on his firm mouth. “Your daughter is becoming a young lady, Mr.—”
“Scott.”
“Mr. Scott. She’s naturally self-conscious about the changes her body is undergoing. Being frightened by pain, she was mortified by the location of the stings and too embarrassed to tell you.”
“But that’s crazy. I know what a female breast looks like.”