Sheltered by the Millionaire. Catherine Mann

across the gym floor as if the whole world hadn’t just been blown upside down. Literally.

      Whit laughed softly. “Resilient little scrap.”

      “More so than her mom, I’m afraid.” Megan sagged and sat down on the metal riser.

      “All Evie knows is that everyone is okay and you’re here.” Whit sat beside her, his leg pressing a warm reassurance against hers. “Maybe we should get you one of those cookies and a cup of that juice.”

      “I’m okay. Really. We should go back to clearing the debris outside.” She braced her shoulders. “I’m being selfish in keeping you all to myself.”

      “All the children are accounted for and the teachers have them well in hand. It’s getting dark. I think cleanup will be on hold until the morning.”

      What kind of carnage would the morning reveal? Outside, sirens had wailed for the last twenty minutes. “I should take Evie and check back in at the shelter. Local animal control will need our help with housing displaced pets.”

      “Civilians aren’t allowed on the road just yet and you don’t have a car.” He nudged her with his shoulder. “Face it, Megan. You can actually afford to take a few minutes to catch your breath.”

      The concern in his brown eyes was genuine. The warmth she saw there washed over her like a jolt of pure java, stimulating her senses. Why hadn’t she ever noticed before what incredibly intense and expressive eyes he had? Sure, she’d noticed he was sexy, but then any woman who crossed his path would appreciate Whit Daltry’s charismatic good looks. And in fact, that had been a part of what turned her off for the past three years—how easily women fell into his arms. She’d let herself be conned by a man like that and it had turned her life upside down.

      But the warmth in his eyes now, the caring he’d shown in helping her get to Evie today presented a new side to Whit she’d never seen before. He might not be romance material for her, but he’d been a good guy just now and that meant a lot to a woman who didn’t accept help easily.

      She slumped back against the riser behind her. “Thank you for what you did for me today—for me and for Evie. I know you would have done the same for anyone stranded on the road.” As she said the words she realized they were true. Whit wasn’t the one-dimensional bad guy she’d painted him to be the past few years. There were layers to the man. “Still, the fact is, you were there for my child and I’ll never forget that.”

      He smiled, his brown eyes twinkling with a hint of his devilish charm. “Does that mean I’m forgiven for refusing to let the shelter build on that tract of land you wanted so much?”

      Layers. Definitely. Good—and bad. “I may be grateful, but I didn’t develop amnesia.”

      He chuckled, a low rumble that drew a laugh from her, and before she knew what she was doing, she dropped her hand to his shoulder and squeezed.

      “Thank you.” She leaned to kiss his cheek in a heartfelt thank-you just as he turned to answer.

      Their lips brushed. Just barely skimmed, but a crackle shot through her so tangibly she could have sworn the storm had returned with a bolt of lightning.

      Gasping, she angled back, her eyes wide, his inscrutable.

      She inched along the riser. “I need to get Evie...and um, thank you.”

      She shot to her feet, racing toward her daughter, away from the temptation to test the feeling and kiss him again.

      That wasn’t what she’d expected. At all. But then nothing about Whit had ever been predictable, damn his sexy body, hot kiss and hero’s rescue. She’d been every bit as gullible as her mother once. And while she could never regret having Evie in her life, she damn well wouldn’t fall victim to trusting an unworthy man again. She owed it to Evie to set a better example, to break the cycle the women in her family seemed destined to repeat.

      And if that meant giving up any chance for another toe-searing kiss from Whit Daltry, then so be it.

       Two

      Six Weeks Later

      The wild she-cat in his arms left scratches on his shoulders.

      Whit Daltry adjusted his hold on the long-haired calico, an older female kitten that had wandered—scraggly and with no collar—onto the doorstep of his Pine Valley home. Luckily, he happened to know the very attractive director of Royal’s Safe Haven Animal Shelter.

      He stepped out of his truck and kicked the door closed, early morning sunshine reflecting off his windshield. Not a cloud in the sky, unlike that fateful day the F4 tornado had ripped through Royal, Texas. The shelter had survived unscathed, but the leaves had been stripped from the trees, leaving branches unnaturally bare for this region of Texas, even in November. The town bore lasting scars from that day that would take a lot longer to heal than the scratches from the frantic calico.

      He should have gotten one of those pet carriers or a box to transport the cat. If the beast clawed its way out of his arms, chances were the scared feline would bolt away and be tough as hell to catch again. Apparently he wasn’t adept at animal rescue.

      That was Megan’s expertise.

      The thought of seeing her again sent anticipation coursing through him as each step brought him closer to the single-story brick structure. Heaven knew he could use a distraction from life right now. For six weeks, ever since they’d shared that kiss after the tornado, he’d been looking for an excuse to see her, but the town had been in chaos clearing the debris. Some of his properties had been damaged as well. He owned multiple apartment buildings and rental homes all over town. And while he might have a lighthearted approach to his social life, he was serious when it came to business and was always damn sure going to be there for his tenants when they needed him.

      He’d thrown himself into the work to distract himself from the biggest loss of all—the death of his good friend Craig Richardson in the storm. It had sent him into shock for the first couple of weeks, as he grieved for Craig and tried to find ways to help his pal’s widow. God, they were all still in a tailspin and he didn’t know if he would be in any better shape by the memorial service that was scheduled for after Thanksgiving.

      So he focused on restoring order to the town, the only place he’d ever called home after a rootless childhood being evicted from place after place. And with each clean-up operation, he thought back to the day of the storm, to clearing aside the rubble in the day care.

      To Megan’s kiss afterward.

      Sure the kiss had been impulsive and motivated by gratitude, and she’d meant to land it on his cheek. But he would bet good money that she’d been every bit as affected by the spontaneous kiss as he was.

      Granted, he’d always been attracted to her in spite of their sparring. But he’d managed to keep a tight rein on those feelings for the three and a half years he’d known her because she’d made it clear she found him barely one step above pond scum. Now, he couldn’t ignore the possibility that the chemistry was mutual. So finally, here he was. He had the perfect excuse, even if it wasn’t the perfect time.

      And Megan wouldn’t be able to avoid him as she’d been doing since their clash over the site where she’d wanted the new shelter built. A battle he’d won. Although from the sleek look of the Safe Haven facility, she’d landed on her feet and done well for the homeless four-legged residents of Royal, Texas.

      Tucking the cat into his suit coat and securing her with a firm grip, he stepped into the welcoming reception area, its tiled surfaces giving off a freshly washed bleach smell. The waiting area was spacious, but today, there were wire crates lining two walls, one with cats, the other with small dogs. They were clean and neat, but the shelter was packed to capacity. He’d heard the shelter had taken in a large number of strays displaced during the storm, but he hadn’t fully grasped the implications until now.

      The