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in her voice told him she spoke from personal experience, and he found himself wondering what had happened to her.
    She reached for another clean piece of gauze, dipped it in the antiseptic, and cleaned deeper this time. “Does this hurt?”
    “No.” He felt no pain, but he was feeling her.
    He seemed to be aware of everything about her. The feminine timbre of her voice. The soft scent of her skin. The curves of her ass and hips beneath the soft cloth of her jeans. The swells of her breasts beneath her sweater. The loving way she looked over at her daughter every couple of minutes, keeping a watchful eye. The gentleness of her fingers against his skin.
    Even through the sterile gloves, her touch seared him.
    How long had it been since he’d been with a woman?
    He’d been faithful to Rachel the entire time he’d been downrange, so with the time he’d spent in the hospital, that meant three years, almost four.
    Too damned long.
    “Thank you for your service—and your sacrifice.” Megan tossed the piece of dirty gauze in the trash. “And here you are injured again—this time helping me. You’ve got it, you know.”
    “Got what?”
    “The hero gene.” She reached for a large adhesive bandage, peeled off the paper wrapping and the tabs, and pressed it gently over his wound. “It’s the gene that drives some men to act and take responsibility while others do nothing.”
    Nate had always thought that had to do with balls, not genetics, but he didn’t say that, not with that sweet little girl with the big blue eyes who was sitting just a few feet away.
    And then it hit him.
    Where was Emily’s father?
    He glanced around the kitchen, saw nothing masculine, no work gloves left on the counter, no man’s lunch box, no family photos—nothing to indicate that anyone other than Megan and her daughter lived in the house. That helped explain why her brother was so damned protective. If Nate had a little sister and she lived alone with a child and was being stalked, he would probably act like a pit bull, too.
    “This ought to at least help prevent infection. You should have your doctor look at it.”
    “Thanks.” He glanced down at the bandage, his gaze following Megan as she removed the gloves and tossed them in the trash.
    No wedding ring.
    The front door opened and closed, and Megan’s brother appeared in the kitchen. He took one look at Nate standing there shirtless, and his eyes narrowed, his gaze traveling over Nate’s torso—and his scars. “What the…?”
    “Nate was shot in the fight with Donny.” Megan gave her brother a look that quite clearly told him to back down. “I offered to clean and bandage the wound.”
    Nate flexed his shoulder. The bandage held. “You did a good job of it, too. Thank you.”
    “It’s the least I can do.” Megan shut the first-aid kit and carried it back to the cupboard. “Are you hungry? I’ve got leftover spaghetti. I can reheat a plate in the microwave.”
    “No, thanks.” Nate really needed to get back to the ranch.
    “See, Mommy? See, Uncle Marc?” Emily got to her feet and held up her coloring book to reveal a drawing of a mare and foal covered in bold squiggles of brown, pink and blue. “I drawed horsies. There’s a mommy and a baby.”
    “Show me.”
    Nate watched as Megan knelt down, giving Emily her full attention as if this one drawing were the most important thing in her world. She obviously loved her daughter with every fiber of her being. And Nate found himself wanting to beat the shit out of the man who had brought violence to Megan’s world and fear to her heart.
    What kind of animal could threaten a mother’s child?
    “Can I have a horsie, Mommy?”
    Megan stood, shaking her head. “Not in the city, sweet pea. Our yard wouldn’t be big enough for a horse.”
    “Bring her up to the Cimarron sometime.” The words were out before Nate realized he’d spoken. “We breed quarter horses. If there’s snow, I’ll hook up the sleigh, and