The Back-Up Plan by Debra Webb Page B

shrubbery had been cropped so precisely that not even a single leaf looked out of place. No wonder the man had such bulging biceps, it surely took hours to maintain this hedge alone.
    She could hear Melissa’s tinkling laughter and excited squeals contrasting with Hank’s raspy voice and rumbling chuckles. Donna’s heart lifted at the happy sound in Melissa’s little voice.
    Not once had she considered that her daughter would crave male attention. It simply never entered her mind. Did Melissa truly yearn for a father, or did she merely want to be like everyone else, to have a complete family.
    Donna reached into the bushes, parted the dense growth and stuck her head toward the sound of her daughter’s voice. She grunted and wiggled deeper. After a couple of slaps in the face and several scratchy encounters, she got her first glimpse of the scene in Hank’s backyard.
    “Football.” Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. The man was teaching her daughter how to play football!
    “Throw it! Throw it!” Melissa shouted. She ran with her arms extended in front of her in preparation for the catch.
    Hank tossed the ball and Melissa caught it. Donna couldn’t help the smile that curled her lips at her daughter’s obvious glee. The child clutched the ball to her chest and ran as fast as she could toward an imaginary end zone. Hank pretended to have difficulty catching up. When Melissa least expected it, he swept her into his arms and whirled her around. Their laughter pealed across the yard as he pretended to tackle her to the ground.
    Something cold and wet touched Donna’s naked leg. A blood curdling scream ripped out of her throat a half a beat after a cacophony of furious barking broke loose behind her. Donna hurled her body deeper into the hedge, away from what she now recognized as a dog. Probably huge. Probably rabid. Probably a biter.
    She swam through the heavy sea of green that had swallowed her. Prickly limbs slapped, scratched and poked at her. Her dress was caught . . . she couldn’t get loose. She fought harder, flung herself at what she knew to be safety on the other side.
    At last, one arm broke through. The dog yelped like a banshee. Strong fingers suddenly wrapped around her free arm and jerked her upper body outward. Fabric ripped. Donna’s breath caught.
    “Dr. Jacobs, what in blazes are you doing?”
    Donna stared at Hank Bradley, fear, confusion, and humiliation running a race for first place inside her. “You didn’t answer the door,” she croaked.
    He surveyed her harried state and grinned. “Do you always spy on people in their back yards?”
    Donna struggled to stick one leg out, only to jerk it back when she realized her dress was hiked up to her waist. She glared at the man still clutching her one free appendage. “Only when they have my daughter,” she snapped.
    Hank fished in the hedge and snaked his arm around her waist. As if she weighed no more than a feather, he plucked her from the perennial jail. He held her against his massive chest with one arm and gingerly removed the leaves that had caught in her hair. Donna braced her hands against his wide shoulders. He smelled like fresh air and sunshine. His body felt strong and hard against hers…made her long to curl around him.
    God she had missed that feeling.
    His gaze collided with hers and the same longing she felt was right there in those blue eyes of his.
    When she’d found her voice, she said, “Put me down, please.”
    His arm tightened around her waist, making her breath catch yet again. “Damn,” he muttered. Rather than set her on her feet, he held her close, forcing her body to slide down his, inch by slow, hard, hot inch. Down his lean waist, over the thick bulge beneath his fly, against his strong thighs.
    When her feet finally settled onto the ground, Donna could only stare into his eyes. As furious as she wanted to be, she wanted to be kissed by Hank Bradley more than she wanted to breathe.
    The sound of his