Read Online The Healing by Frances Pergamo - Free Book Online

chief in the FDNY.”
    Karen returned the salute. They both cracked up.
    â€œI guess your life’s passion was mapped out for you since birth,” she said.
    â€œOf course,” he replied. “It was always about riding the big red truck.”
    She loved his sense of humor. She loved his smile and his easy laugh. Oh, God, she was starting to love everything about him.
    When Mike turned to watch a group of children playing in the shallow surf, Karen finally let her eyes go where they wanted. For a split second or two. It was like gorging on a head-to-toe visual feast in the time it took for a camera shutter to open and close.
    He turned back to her. “So, Captain Karen. What is your great passion?”
    The heat rose up in her face—a sure indicator that her cheeks were once again the color of blood. At the moment, my passion is an almost naked lifeguard with blue eyes who makes me forget my name. “Well—”
    A small commotion erupted among the children at the shore. A young girl of five or six ran crying to her mother. Before Karen even realized what had happened, Mike reached under his chair to grab the first-aid kit. Squatting down, he opened it and handed her the bottle of antiseptic spray. “Hold that?”
    Karen took it and glanced over to where the little girl’s panic was now infecting the adults who were with her. “It must be bad,” she said quietly to Mike.
    â€œI doubt it,” he said.
    He was ready with a handful of supplies by the time the mother carried the little girl over to them. She had sliced her foot on a shell, and blood was dripping from her wounded heel.
    Karen squatted down next to Mike to help, but he was in complete control of the situation. The first thing he did was show the girl something in his hand.
    â€œKnow what these are?” he asked.
    Miraculously, the volume of her cries dropped a few decibels. She shook her head.
    â€œThey’re earplugs,” he said. Then he proceeded to put them in his own ears.
    Karen had to laugh. She looked up at the distraught mother apologetically, but the woman seemed to appreciate the lifeguard’s relaxed demeanor. And when the girl saw them all smiling, she actually stopped crying.
    â€œOh, that’s better,” Mike said. “Now we can look at this little cut.”
    â€œDo you think she’ll need stitches?” the mother asked.
    Mike wiped the blood away with some gauze and shook his head. “A butterfly bandage will do it. But she’ll have to stay out of the water for the rest of the day. And eat ice cream.”
    Karen was ready with the antiseptic spray when Mike motioned to her. “This might sting a little,” she told the little girl.
    The girl resumed crying before Karen even applied the antiseptic.
    â€œHey, wait a minute,” Karen said. “I don’t have any earplugs. That’s not fair.”
    The crying stopped. The mom was happy again.
    Mike looked up from his bandaging task to wink at Karen. She grinned back at him, feeling like she was in a free fall. Mike was even good with kids. What other treasures would she uncover? The fact that all these admirable traits were wrapped in a vessel of such masculine perfection was a bonus.
    . . . And a dream come true for some lucky girl.
    Karen was afraid to believe she might be that lucky girl. She kept telling herself Mike the Lifeguard was probably like most great-looking guys—self-absorbed and only after one thing. She rationalized that he had probably singled her out because she posed the greatest challenge.
    Why else would he find her blushing so irresistible?

    The morning was cloudy and cool, but Karen rode to the beach anyway. It was deserted, and the only car parked on the overlook was the green Mustang. She found Mike sitting at one of the tables on the wharf porch, wearing a sweatshirt and slouched over a book. Even though the battery-operated radio propped on the table