Finding Dr. Right
Lisa B. Kamps

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Coming Next Month

For Gerrit and Connor, who keep me young and crazy, and for my parents, who supported me from the time I could hold a crayon in my hand. Mom, Dad—you guys always knew I could do it.

Thank you!

And finally, for my pals from the last two years.

I’ll always remember the Alamo!

Chapter One

Nathan watched as the puddle grew. Drip, drip, drip. At first held together by surface tension, the sheer volume of blood forced it to spread across the stark white floor.

Blood. His blood.

A buzzing sounded in his ears. His breaths quickened, the edges of his vision fading to a swirling gray-black. He closed his eyes, trying to banish the sight from his mind, as his stomach clenched around his breakfast.

Not that. Anything but that.

He swallowed against the inevitable, finding a shred of self-control in the part of his mind that remained detached. His eyes opened again. How could there be so much of it?

He stared, mesmerized in the most morbid sense, as the pool grew. Dark crimson against the gleaming white. He imagined he could feel the heat of it, still warm as it hit the floor with a plop. And the smell. Was he only imagining it, or did the room suddenly become heavy with that sticky metallic odor?

His vision continued to swirl as the buzzing grew louder. He squeezed his eyes shut, tried to steady himself with a deep breath to keep from swaying.

“Mr. Conners?” The voice was thin, a wisp of reality reaching out to him from far away. He looked up and saw a hazy vision in white, the features indistinct against the brightness.

He swallowed, hard, and attempted to reach out. His hand turned to lead as it dropped heavily beside him. He opened his mouth to speak, thought he may have muttered something as the buzzing exploded in his head with an anticlimactic pop a second before he hit the floor with a thud.

Catherine Wilson muttered at the commotion coming from the closed room. She wasn’t supposed to be here today, had come in only for a personal favor. Now she was stuck.

She jammed the pen into her pocket, clutched the clipboard tightly in one hand and took a deep breath. No sense in drawing it out any longer. It was her own fault she couldn’t say no.

The bitter smell of ammonia stopped her midstride as she opened the door, and she wrinkled her nose in distaste while biting back a smile. A man was sitting on the floor, his legs drawn up to his chest, his head resting limply on his knees. Large hands curled protectively around his ankles and his shoulders heaved with his heavy breathing. Beside him, on the clean tile floor, was a small pool of blood.

Catherine observed the scene in the space of the few seconds it took her to close the door. Gwen was bent over the man, telling him to breathe deeply. She shook her head and glanced quickly at the chart.

“Mr. Conners?”

The man released his grip from his ankle and waved absently in the air, brushing her off. Catherine took another deep breath, reminding herself it wasn’t his fault she was here today. “Mr. Conners? I need you to take a seat on the table, sir.” Her voice was brisk, businesslike. It was the tone she reserved for the possible troublemakers, and Gwen looked up at her sharply. The man released a loud groan and shook his head, muttering something into his leg.

“Mr. Conners, I really do need you—”

“I said no.” The voice was still muffled but louder, with as much force as Catherine’s request. She stared at the figure on the floor, then looked questioningly at Gwen.

“Um, it seems that Mr. Conners had a slight…accident.”

“Accident?” Catherine bit the inside of her cheek at the flash of amusement that sparkled in Gwen’s eyes.

“Yes. He, um, fell off the table. When I was trying to draw some blood.”

Catherine turned from the nurse to study the man on the floor, sympathy surging to the surface as she realized he must be embarrassed. She looked back at Gwen, her voice less brisk. “Did he hit his head at all?” The nurse shook her head.

Catherine placed the clipboard on the small table in the corner before leaning down closer to the man.

“Mr. Conners, are you feeling okay? Here, why don’t we help you stand up.” She motioned to the nurse and reached for one of the man’s arms, surprised by the heat of his flesh. “Then we—”

“No.”

Catherine was surprised at the quiet demand in the man’s voice as he pulled his arm from her grasp. But not before she’d noticed the hard muscle beneath her fingers and sensed the leashed tension thrumming through him. She took a breath then motioned for Gwen to get assistance.

Catherine settled on the floor a few feet from him and leaned against the wall, her arms folded in front of her as she studied him. Thick black hair fell forward, hiding his face, and his muscular arms were wrapped around sturdy legs. His hands were large, as well, with long, tapered fingers.

Normally she would be hesitant to stay by herself with a potentially difficult patient, but some inner instinct told her that she needn’t worry with him. Yes, he was a large, powerful man. His physical build alone was intimidating, but she felt no threat. If she felt anything, it was empathy for the keen embarrassment that pulsated around him. She could certainly identify with humiliating reactions at the worst possible time.

Catherine took a deep breath and spoke softly in an effort to alleviate some of his embarrassment. “Mr. Conners, you’d probably be more comfortable if you weren’t sitting on the floor. Why don’t you let me help—”

“Please. Just let me wait here until the doctor gets in.” The voice was low, a faint twinge of resignation entwined in the mellow under-tones. Catherine raised her eyebrows in the man’s general direction and let out a hasty sigh, her sympathy decreasing several notches.

“Mr. Conners, maybe I should—”

The exam room door swung quickly inward, admitting Gwen and one of the men who passed for building security. “Dr. Wilson, did you need some help?” Catherine waved off the security officer’s help, wondering why Gwen had called him for help when a strangled exclamation erupted next to her.

“Doctor!”

She turned suddenly in the direction of the voice and breathed in so quickly she nearly coughed. The man was staring at her with the fierce glare of a predator, his look all the more dangerous because of his eyes. A deep golden color fringed in a wealth of dark lashes, they were a lion’s eyes.

Feral in their intensity, they traveled from the well-worn flats she had hastily thrown on this morning, along loose-fitting trousers and casual blouse, stopping finally to meet her gaze. Catherine swallowed tightly and reconsidered her earlier assessment of any threat the man presented. She’d been wrong to think he wasn’t dangerous. Very wrong.

“Doctor?” This time the word was uttered as a questioning groan. Catherine had endured plenty of surprised patients in the past but this man seemed genuinely shocked to realize she was a doctor. She swallowed her irritation at his chauvinism, cleared her throat and leaned slightly forward, forcing a smile.

“I’m Dr. Wilson. I’m filling in for Dr. Porter today. I thought he had informed all his patients about that.” She offered her hand, felt it grow warm as it was suddenly clasped in the grip of his larger one. Her face flushed as the man continued to stare at her, and she self-consciously cleared her throat as she tried to remove her hand from his.

Instead of releasing it, he held tighter and she realized he was trying to stand, pulling her up along with him. He was merely using her as leverage to stand. She tightened her own grip and stood with him, watching as he slowly rose.

And rose. And rose.

She leaned her head back to look up at him, then blinked. Her imagination had kicked in again. He was only a few inches taller than six feet, not towering over her by a foot as she first thought in that single second when he had straightened.

“Dr. Wilson, do you still need me?” The uncertain voice from behind made her realize she had been staring. She cleared her throat and turned quickly to face the security guard, thankful for his interruption. Catherine shook her head and dismissed him with a quick word of thanks, then faced her patient, motioning again to the exam table.

“I think you might be more comfortable sitting down, Mr. Conners.” She busied herself with studying his chart, cursing the heat in her face as she tried hard not to notice the play of muscles in his bare legs as he hoisted himself onto the table.

“I’m sorry about earlier.” His voice was deep, tinged with embarrassment. Catherine stepped next to the table and offered him a gentle smile, then placed a hand on his shoulder.

“No problem. Why don’t you lie back while I have a look at your knee.” His body relaxed under her touch as he laid back. She focused her attention away from his powerful thighs and on his left knee, gently probing around the kneecap, careful of pushing too hard around the recent incisions.

The flesh beneath her fingers was slightly swollen and warm to her touch. She studied the movement of the kneecap, slowly pushing it back and forth. The leg jerked slightly when she pushed in at the bottom of the kneecap.

“Did that hurt?” She turned to study his face for the telltale signs of a patient unwilling to admit pain. She didn’t have to look too hard; it was there in his careless shrug, in his too-hard study of the hands folded across his waist.

“Not too bad.”

Catherine nodded with a noncommittal murmur and continued her probing, this time pushing in slightly on the kneecap. Barely perceptible under her touch was a minor grating, resulting in another small jerk. She gave his leg a reassuring pat then retrieved his file from the countertop as he sat up.

“When was your surgery?”

“Two weeks ago.”

“And you’ve started physical therapy?”

“Yes.”

Catherine murmured and made a note in his file, the scratching of her pen loud in the silence.

“Is…there a problem?”

“Nothing to worry about.” Catherine looked up from the notes she was scribbling on his chart and gave him a reassuring smile. “Your knee is still a little swollen and there’s some roughness under the kneecap, but it’s early still. Make an appointment to see Dr. Porter next week. In the meantime, keep up with the therapy but don’t overdo it.”

He looked at her with an unreadable expression and Catherine waited patiently for the usual questions. Instead, he shrugged once and offered her a hesitant smile. She smiled back and turned, only to be stopped by the ever-present Gwen.

“Catherine, I didn’t get a chance to draw the blood sample Dr. Porter had requested.” There was a touch of subtle humor in her words, which were immediately followed by a nearly inaudible groan from Mr. Conners. Catherine bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from smiling at his pale face.

“I think we can probably get away without it this time, Gwen. If Brian really needs it, he’ll get it next week.”

Catherine closed the door behind her and allowed herself a small chuckle at the sound of Mr. Conners’s huge sigh of relief.

Silence. Absolute silence.

Catherine leaned back in the oversize chair, propped her feet on the desk, and closed her eyes to enjoy the brief solitude. She had reports to dictate, files to review and a work schedule that needed to be revamped in order to fit in another dozen or so things that just had to be done. But for now all she wanted was to enjoy the solitude.

The harsh buzz of the intercom shattered the quiet and she bolted upright. Her foot slipped and she winced as her bare heel scraped the rounded edge of the desk. Muttering, she leaned over the desk and jabbed the intercom.

“Yes? What is it?”

“Dr. Wilson, Mr. Conners has asked to see you.”

Taking a deep breath, Catherine counted to three then jabbed the button again. “Give me a few minutes—”

Before she could release her finger, the door to her office swung open and the man in question walked in.

“Never mind…” Her voice trailed off as she lifted her hand from the machine. Catherine immediately straightened in her chair, searching with bare feet for the shoes she had kicked off just a few minutes earlier. She managed to slip a foot into one just as he approached the desk.

“Mr. Conners. Is there something I can help you with?” She motioned to the chair across from her desk, still searching for the other shoe. Her toe brushed against soft leather and she stretched her leg in an attempt to pull it closer. The curious glance from the man across from her didn’t stop her as she leaned back in her chair and probed farther under the desk.

“It’s Nathan.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“My name. Please, call me Nathan.” Heat rose to her face under his close scrutiny. “Dr. Wilson, is something wrong?”

“Wrong? No, your knee seems to be recovering—”

“I wasn’t referring to my knee. You look…” His voice trailed off as he glanced down at the floor. A look of confusion crossed his face and she knew instantly that she had succeeded in pushing her missing shoe from under the desk.

She sat up and tried to look professional, even when he bent over to retrieve the lost shoe. He held the worn leather loafer in one large hand, raised his eyebrows, then passed it across the desk to her. Catherine’s face heated as he flashed a sexy, crooked smile at her. Mentally cursing herself for blushing, she grabbed the shoe from him, snapped it onto her foot and folded her hands on the desk in front of her. Nothing out of the ordinary had just happened, she thought. Then why do I feel like a clumsy schoolgirl?

“Mr. Conners, you wanted to see me?”

“Please, Nathan.”

“All right.” Catherine nodded, mentally wrinkling her brow in thought. Nathan Conners. Why was that name so familiar?

“I wanted to apologize for earlier. I…things have been on edge for me lately.”

“Really, that isn’t necessary. It’s understandable.”

“Yes, but I still wanted—”

“Nathan,” she began, surprised at the waver in her voice when she said his name. She cleared her throat. “Nathan. Your apology is accepted. Was there anything else?”

“I did want to ask some questions about my recovery. You looked…please don’t take this the wrong way, but you looked almost as if you were hiding something. Is there something wrong with the way my knee is healing?”

Catherine stilled and met his tawny gaze without flinching. Nathan Conners was more perceptive than she had realized.

Nathan Conners. Again she had the nagging feeling that she knew his name from somewhere else. She focused on the man across from her. Deep eyes, thick, dark hair that hung a bit below the collar of his short-sleeve Henley, a slightly crooked nose that looked like it had been broken once or twice before. Tall, very well-muscled—definitely in good health.

And young. Catherine judged him to be in his early to mid-twenties, and she suddenly felt old. She shrugged the feeling off and continued studying him. He had physique, health and age on his side, which would help him through any extended recovery period he would need—if he needed it. She hadn’t studied his file as thoroughly as she would have liked, and she didn’t know what kind of recovery time Brian expected of his patient.

“No, your knee seems to be healing well. There’s still some swelling and I detected some roughness under the kneecap, but that’s to be expected. Dr. Porter will be able to better answer any questions you may have the next time you see him.”

“So there shouldn’t be any problems?”

“No, I don’t see why there should be.” Catherine noticed the slight lines that creased his forehead as he frowned. He was overly worried, and she offered him a comforting smile meant to reassure him. His sigh of relief would have gone unnoticed if she hadn’t been watching him closely.

“Good. I was starting to worry. It looked like you were ready to permanently confine me to a wheelchair for a minute there. I’m not sure I could handle being crippled.”

Catherine’s sympathy immediately vanished at his choice of words. She mentally chastised herself, cautioning against the overreaction blossoming in the pit of her stomach. She forced a tight smile but failed to keep the coldness from her voice.

“I really don’t think you need to worry about that, Mr. Conners. Now if there’s nothing else…”

Nathan didn’t miss the slight narrowing of her eyes, or the sudden frost in their brown depths. Her shoulders stiffened, too, and he knew without a doubt that he’d just offended her. She was dismissing him. Plain and simple. And he was torn between leaving without saying another word or staying to apologize for whatever he’d said or done to cause this reaction in her. The abrupt buzzing of the intercom stopped him.

“Dr. Wilson, Matthew’s here.” A disconnected voice made the announcement. Nathan winced as the doctor’s slender finger punched the intercom button. There was no doubt that she wished she were punching something entirely different—like him.

“Tell him I’ll be out in a minute.” Her frosty voice melted only a few degrees before she turned a cold look on him. “If you’ll excuse me, I have other business to attend to.”

He finally stood when she did. She was shorter than he was, but he suddenly felt small as she fixed him with that cold look.

No, not small, he corrected himself. He felt like a worm.

“Dr. Wilson, I obviously—”

“Good day, Mr. Conners.”

Nathan studied her a second longer then turned to leave, knowing that whatever he’d said, he wasn’t going to correct it just then. He walked out of the office, feeling the chill of her stare in the middle of his back. Not until he reached the end of the hall did he dare turn around, certain her attention was no longer focused on him.

With that one quick look behind him, he reconsidered his earlier self-assessment. He cursed under his breath as he watched the scene in the hallway.

Catherine was kneeling on the floor, her arms wrapped protectively around a little boy about nine years old. The boy motioned wildly, obviously embarrassed as he tried to shrug off her embrace. Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary with the scene, except for one thing: the boy’s slight frame was nearly lost, engulfed by the bulky wheelchair that surrounded him. Nathan didn’t need to look hard to see that the boy’s right leg was missing, amputated just below the knee.

No, he wasn’t a worm, he was worse. No wonder the doctor’s warmth had suddenly vanished and she’d seemed ready to throw him from her office. A chill swept through him as he pulled his gaze away from the boy and saw Catherine looking straight at him.

Nathan pivoted around and jabbed the elevator button. The child’s excited voice at the end of the hall drew closer, and he closed his eyes as a feeling of utter dread swept over him.

“C’ mon, c’mon,” he muttered impatiently, watching the digital readout above the elevator with a sense of helplessness.

“But, Mom, don’t you know who he is?”

“Matty, I don’t think—”

“C’ mon, Mom!”

Nathan smiled to himself at the whine in the boy’s voice as it got closer still. No matter what else may be wrong with him, he had the normal impatience of all kids his age.

“Hey, Mr. Conners! Mr. Conners! Can I have your autograph?” Nathan heard the excitement in his voice, knew that the boy in the wheelchair had nearly reached him. He took a deep breath, turned around and forced himself to look only at the boy.

“Sure, no problem, kid.” Nathan automatically kneeled and winced as a sharp pain shot through his knee before he repositioned himself. He sensed the doctor’s sudden reaching and waved her away before taking the paper and pen the young boy offered. He looked into the kid’s brown eyes and felt a smile spread across his own face at the hero worship he saw in their depths. “So are you a big fan, Matthew?”

“Wow!” The kid reached up and tugged on Catherine’s arm. “Hey, Mom, he knew my name! Wait till I tell everyone at school! I love hockey, Mr. Conners.”

“Matty, that’s enough.”

Nathan winced at the ice in her voice but still refused to look at her. He scrawled a brief greeting on the paper, followed by his name, and handed it back to the boy.

“You can call me Nathan. So, how many hockey games have you been to, Matthew?”

The young boy shrugged. “Not a whole bunch. Mom says she doesn’t like it. But I watch on TV. When it’s not real late, I mean. Hey, Nathan, when are you going to start playing again?”

“I guess that’ll be up to the doctors. So…I bet your dad’s a fan, too, huh? How’d you like to go see a game? I could get tickets for you and your dad. Your mom, too, if you’d like.”

“I don’t have a dad.”

“Oh.” Nathan swallowed around the foot in his mouth as Catherine’s icy glare drove deeper into him. “Um, well, how about just tickets for you and your mom then?”

“Wow! Could you? That would be neat!”

Nathan felt the urge to laugh at the boy’s excitement and tried to recall the last time he had felt like that. The joy was short-lived, though, dampened by Dr. Wilson’s quiet voice. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Matty.”

“Mom—”

“Matty, we shouldn’t put Mr. Conners to that kind of trouble.”

Nathan stood up, trying not to flinch against the pain in his knee. He turned and finally faced Dr. Wilson, meeting her cold brown eyes with his own steady gaze in silent challenge. “Really, it’s no problem. I’ll send the tickets over by the end of the week. Will two be enough?”

Her lips pursed into a tight line as she met his stare and Nathan knew she wouldn’t be able to say no. It would kill her, he was sure, but she wouldn’t say no to her son. A bell dinged behind him, followed by the hiss of the elevator door opening. He took a step backward and placed his hand on the frame of the elevator to prevent it from closing as he waited for her answer, surprised he was anxious to hear it. There may have been no dad, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t someone else.

“Two. It’s just me and Mom.”

“Matty!” She pointed a look of openmouthed surprise at her son then turned back to face him, a tinge of red scattered across her cheeks. Nathan offered her a slow smile and an even slower wink as he released his hold on the elevator door.

“Two it is.”

He was glad no one else was in the elevator to witness the cold look she gave him.

Chapter Two

“I realize that, yes.” Catherine looked up at the knock on her door and waved Brian inside when he poked his sandy-haired head through the opening. “Yes, Mrs. Johnson, I’m aware of that. I really do need to go now. I’ll call you later this week.”

She placed the phone back in its cradle with a sigh, then offered Brian a half smile. “That woman is going to send me to an early grave.”

“Was that Matty’s principal?”

“The one and only.” She motioned for Brian to sit. “She seems to think that Matty should at least attend gym class. I keep telling her that I don’t think he’s ready.”

“Catherine, it’s been ten months since his amputation. The cancer is gone. He should have started with his prosthesis months ago. I have to side with Mrs. Johnson this time.”

Catherine met her partner’s serious blue gaze and let out a weary sigh. She pushed a strand of hair back over her ear and began straightening the papers scattered on her desk.

“I think I know what’s best for Matty. I don’t need you ganging up on me, too. Not now.”

“You’re going to have to give him some freedom sooner or later. He’s young and active. And healthy. Give him the chance to enjoy what he’s been missing.”

She slammed her hand on her desk. “Not now. Not yet—he’s not ready.”

“Are you sure he’s the one who’s not ready?”

The words hung in the air between them, suspended in the sudden tension that threatened to overwhelm Catherine. Slowly, she released her pent-up breath and focused on the papers in front of her. Brian was right!

If she was completely honest with herself, she’d admit that a large part of the problem with Matty was that she wasn’t ready. His health problems and the resulting amputation had happened too recently. The pain of seeing him suffer was still a raw wound, one she had no intention of reopening. She swallowed around the thickness in her throat.

“His doctor suggested not letting him use the prosthesis now would cause more harm later.” Her words came out as a whisper, not quite hiding the pain and anxiety that was a part of her everyday life. She felt Brian’s gaze on her and reluctantly looked up, putting on her brave face. One glance at his sympathetic expression told her she had failed miserably. She blinked her eyes against the tears that threatened.

“And?”

Catherine took another deep breath and shrugged. “As a doctor, I know he’s right. But as Matty’s mom…I’m afraid he’s not ready yet. I’m afraid he’ll hurt himself. I’m afraid of a million other things I have no control over. I can’t go through that again.”

She squeezed her eyes closed, willing the memories to disappear with the pain. All those months of uncertainty, of anguish. And fear. Her whole life had changed with Matty’s diagnosis, and while he seemed to have made a full recovery, Catherine was still terrified, still not ready to reenter life.

“What does Matty want?” Brian’s quiet voice broke the silence, pulling Catherine from her maudlin thoughts.

Unwilling to meet his clear gaze, Catherine kept her head bent. “I haven’t talked to him about it.”

“Oh, Catherine.”

She finally looked up and saw the censure mixed with sympathy. He shifted in his chair and continued to fix her with that clear gaze, made all the more powerful when seen through his wire-rimmed glasses. The seconds ticked by, echoed by the old grandmother clock that stood in one corner of her office.

“All right, enough of the stare-down. I know I need to talk to him.” Her voice was scratchy and she cleared her throat. “I will. I just need a little more time.”

Brian nodded once, seemingly satisfied with her answer. “Fine. I’ll give you a week.”

“Brian—”

He held up one hand to interrupt her, a slow smile spreading across his face. “I don’t want to hear it, Catherine. You know as well as I do that you’ll keep putting off telling him, just like you’re putting off living your life. You need the pressure of a deadline hanging over your head. Consider me your deadline. And speaking of living life…” He lifted a bulky package covered with the red and blue tape of a delivery service. “Are you ever going to open this? It’s been sitting out there with your name on it for two days. The staff is dying, wondering what the ever-dependable Dr. Wilson is ignoring.”

Catherine shrugged, feigning indifference. She had seen the package delivered, had even made the mistake of signing for it before she realized what it was. She had tossed it onto the outside desk as soon as she had seen the sender’s name.

“Who says I’m ignoring anything?”

Brian tossed the package onto the desk, where it landed with a gentle smack in the middle of the papers she had just finished stacking. “Then open it.”

“I don’t need to open it.” She pushed it to the side, only to have Brian push it back.

“Don’t you want to see what’s in it?”

“No, not really.” She picked it up and threw it back at him. Brian wasn’t ready for the sudden move and raised his hands in an attempt to ward off the flying missile, deflecting it to protect his face. The package landed at his feet.

“Hmm.” Brian stared down at his feet, then looked back at her, his eyebrows raised in question. Catherine covered her mouth with her hand to hide her embarrassed smile.

“Brian, I am so sorry.”

He waved away her muffled apology and bent down to retrieve the package. He held it out to her, daring her with his eyes to take it, promising dire consequences if she didn’t. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d almost swear you were afraid to open it.”

The challenge was clear in his voice and Catherine knew she’d never hear the end of it if she refused. Suddenly irritated with herself, she yanked the package from his hand and violently ripped it open. A fluff of light blue material fell to her desk, followed by a crisp white envelope.

Brian released a low whistle as he pulled the material from her desk and held it up. The fluff turned out to be a jersey emblazoned with the logo of the Baltimore Banners, including Nathan’s name and number. Her heart twisted when she realized it was Nathan’s actual jersey, not a replica.

“Not bad. Matty’ll get a kick out of this. Wish Nathan would have sent me one. These things are a hot commodity right now. Especially with the way the Banners are playing.” Brian motioned to the envelope. “What’s in there?”

“Probably tickets.” She thrust the envelope into his outstretched hand, ignoring the fact that her fingers trembled. “Here. You take them.”

Brian looked at her questioningly then opened the envelope. He studied the contents then looked back at her, a glint in his eyes. Catherine involuntarily pushed away from the desk.

“If I didn’t know you better, I’d almost swear that you did something to Nathan Conners when he was in here the other day.”

“What? Why? What’s in there?”

“Two tickets for very, very good seats. On the ice. And I mean, on the ice. You can’t buy these seats anywhere—they’re saved for special promotions and businesses.”

Catherine’s throat closed up. She hadn’t expected him to follow through with his promise of tickets, had done her best creative thinking to come up with excuses to tell Matty so he wouldn’t be disappointed when the time came. Now here they were. And not just the tickets, but a jersey, as well. Catherine knew Matty would melt with excitement when he saw them.

“I—I didn’t think…why don’t you take him, Brian? I can’t really see myself at a hockey game.”

“Since when? I mean, I know you don’t follow the players or anything, but I’ve seen you watching with Matty. I think you should go. It’ll be a fun night out for both of you, which is something you definitely need.”

“No, I can’t. I didn’t think he’d send the tickets.” Catherine fought the heat that spread across her face as Brian studied her. He neatly folded the jersey and placed the tickets on top, then crossed his arms and stared at her.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“Nothing is going on. I just don’t like the idea of some kid jock sending these things to Matty because he feels guilty.” Catherine inwardly winced at her tone of voice, wondering why she sounded so bitter and cold, knowing she had no reason to feel that way.

“Wait a minute.” Brian leaned across the desk and grabbed one of her hands. “Number one, Nathan is twenty-nine, only a year younger than you. Hardly a kid. Number two, I can’t see him doing anything out of guilt. Number three, why would he feel guilty in the first place?”

Catherine pulled her hand free and gently played with the folds of the jersey in front of her. “Because he made some crack about being confined to a wheelchair then happened to see me with Matthew a few minutes later. Matty knew who he was right away and had to drag me over to get his autograph. That’s the only reason he sent this stuff.”

She squirmed under Brian’s gaze, realized she was still fingering the jersey and quickly sat back. To her own ears, the reply sounded stiff and immature, a complete overreaction, but she didn’t know how to phrase it any differently. There was something about the whole situation—the way he had acted with Matty, the jersey, the tickets…it was too good to be true. She didn’t believe in good fortune, not anymore.

“As far as the wheelchair comment, I don’t know what to say. But I do know that he wouldn’t go to all this trouble just out of guilt. Listen, Catherine, I don’t know Nathan that well, but he is a nice guy. I think you should just take the tickets and go. Matty would enjoy it, and so would you.”

Forget about what happened. How could Catherine explain how that single, haphazard comment had biased her against everything else? The careless way he had let it pass renewed the pain she had felt when they had first told her Matty’s leg would need to be amputated. She pushed a strand of hair away from her face and sighed, knowing she would never be able to make Brian understand how much that single comment had hurt her.

“Fine. I’ll think about it.”

“Good.” There was a brief pause as Brian studied the tickets then thrust them into her hand. “I hope you made up your mind to go, because the note in here says a limo will be picking you and Matty up in two hours.”

“What?”

“They’re for tonight’s game so you’d better move. Matty would really be disappointed if he found out he had a chance to go and missed it because you couldn’t move fast enough.”

Catherine’s mouth opened and closed but she couldn’t form any words. Brian picked up the jersey then gently led her to the office door, chuckling the entire time.

“Let me know how you enjoy your hockey game, Dr. Wilson.”

The excited screams nearly drowned out the voice and music that blared over the arena loudspeaker. Catherine looked down at Matty, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as he laughed and cheered with the other 19,000 fans that had come to their feet when the Banners scored a few seconds into the third period, widening their lead with a score of 4 to 1.

Catherine leaned back in her seat, the magazine in her hand forgotten as she finally allowed herself to relax and enjoy the game. She would never admit it to him but she was glad Brian had all but demanded that she attend tonight. The look of excitement on Matty’s face when he put on the jersey and saw the tickets had been enough to bring tears to her eyes. Seeing the sparkle in his eyes when the limo picked them up had removed all but the smallest doubts that she was doing the right thing.

“Wow! Did you see that, Mom?” Matty finally pulled his attention away from the ice long enough to look over at her. She smiled and reached out a hand to ruffle his short hair, not surprised when he pulled away, his ears pink with embarrassment.

“Yes, I certainly did.” Catherine curled her hand in her lap, resisting the urge to reach out again and pull Matty to her, knowing he would only become more embarrassed. It was so hard not to smother him, so hard to realize that he was growing up in spite of everything he had been through.

A loud thud directly in front of them caused her to jump, forcing her gaze from Matty to the glass. Brian had been right about the seats: they were in the very front row, separated from the players on the ice only by the protective glass.

“Nice hit!”

The voice came from her left, loud enough to be heard over the cries of the crowd. Catherine’s heart gave a funny little lurch before pumping wildly when she saw Nathan Conners standing in the aisle next to Matty, a tray full of drinks and snacks cradled in his large hands. He was still facing the ice and she had time to notice his profile, full of sharp angles that screamed strength and raw power. Her heart gave another lurch when he finally turned and looked down at her, meeting her gaze with a crooked smile before she could look away.

“Hey, Matthew. Mind if I join you? I brought some snacks.”

Catherine’s fists clenched around the magazine as Matty eagerly pointed to the empty seat beside her. She swallowed any comment she might have made, wondering why the hockey player seemed to rub her the wrong way and knowing she couldn’t spoil this night for Matty. Reluctantly burying her pride and anxiety, she rose and moved over one seat before Nathan could maneuver his long legs around the wheelchair.

He sat between them and immediately turned to her, his crooked smile even wider as he offered her a soda. She looked at the paper cup then shook her head, refusing even as she realized how thirsty she was. Nathan looked at her a second longer, his smile losing some of its wattage before he shrugged and turned his attention to Matty.

“So what do you think of the game? Are the seats okay?”

“They’re awesome! Thanks, Mr. Conners. And thanks for this, too. It’s cool.” Matty fingered the jersey that hung on him.

“Nathan. Remember I said you could call me Nathan.”

Catherine watched as the two quickly became engaged in animated conversation and she suddenly felt like the proverbial fifth wheel, a ridiculous notion that didn’t sit well with her. The feeling grew in direct proportion with Matty’s excitement, and she again forced herself to stay quiet. No matter what she thought, Matty seemed to truly like the obtuse man and there was no way she would ruin this for him.

She leaned back and pretended to read the crumpled magazine while studying Nathan from the corner of her eye. Once again she found herself eyeing his legs, long and obviously muscular even in the black dress slacks he wore. He leaned toward Matty, listening attentively. She couldn’t hear the words because of the noise from the crowd, but she saw that crooked smile grow and had no trouble hearing the deep chuckle that rumbled from his broad chest. The sound sent a flash of warmth through her, which only irritated her more.

The shrill horn that signaled another score interrupted their conversation, and Nathan let out a cheer for his teammates as music echoed in the arena. Catherine noticed that he remained seated with Matthew when the crowd surged to its feet, and she couldn’t stop the sudden warming in her heart at the gesture.

Oh, stop it! She shouldn’t let herself feel anything warm toward this complete stranger who had suddenly pushed himself into their lives. The thought sped through her mind even as she tried to force it away. Who said anything about him pushing his way into their lives? Not even close. He just happened to be a patient of Brian’s who suffered from a pang of guilt and gave up a set of tickets to ease his conscience. Nothing less, certainly nothing more. After tonight, they would never see him again.

Nathan laughed at something Matty said, and Catherine wondered why she felt a tinge of regret at her last thought.

Stop it! she chided herself again and squirmed in the seat, trying to get comfortable and pretend she wasn’t bothered. The man on her right was also squirming and it took a few minutes before she realized he was deliberately pushing against her to get her attention. She turned to him, knowing there was a frown on her face and not caring. She hoped it would make him sit still.

“Lady, can you ask Nathan to sign this?”

Catherine looked down at the souvenir Banners pennant and black marker the man had thrust into her hand and rolled her eyes. She leaned over and nudged Nathan in the shoulder, pushing him harder than was necessary. He turned to her, those tawny eyes widened in shock as he rubbed at the spot she had touched.

“Here. He wants you to sign this.” She motioned to the man beside her and nearly threw the flag in Nathan’s lap, then sighed loudly as he took it and leaned across her to speak to the man. He was so close that she could smell the aftershave he wore, a light scent of something outdoorsy mingled with the clean aroma of soap.

Catherine held her breath. She refused to be drawn in even as her eyes swept over his features, from his strong jaw to the soft hair that swept just below the collar of his sports coat, to the rounded curve of his ear. She wondered suddenly if the spot on his neck below his ear was as sensitive as it looked. He was close enough that all she had to do was lean slightly forward before her lips—

She sat bolt upright, mortified at the thoughts running through her mind. “This is ridiculous!”

Nathan turned his head to look at her, so close that his mouth nearly brushed against her cheek. Catherine stood, not caring that she came close to knocking Nathan out of his seat, not caring that the man to her right was staring at her as if she had lost her mind. She pushed her way across Nathan, getting tangled in his feet and nearly tripping until he put a hand on her elbow to steady her. She ripped her arm out of his grasp and leaned over Matty, wanting to leave right that minute but knowing her irrational reaction would only hurt him.

“I’m getting something to drink. Do you want anything?”

“No, I’m fine.” Matty looked up at her with round eyes and she had the uncanny feeling that he saw more than she wanted him to see. “Are you okay, Mom? Your face is all red.”

Catherine ignored Nathan’s soft chuckle as she leaned over and brushed a kiss over Matty’s forehead, assuring him that she was fine before climbing the steps to the main concourse.

Nathan turned in his seat and followed her progress up the stairs, smiling to himself as he watched the angry sway of her hips. She looked different from when he had first seen her at the office. Her dark blond hair fell in soft curls around her shoulders, a stark contrast to the deep green sweater that she wore. She turned and looked back, and he saw the flash of fire in her brown eyes even from that distance.

He chuckled to himself then finished scrawling his autograph and handed the flag back to the man. He turned to Matthew. “I don’t think your mom likes me too much.”

“Nah. She likes you. Mom likes everyone.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Of course. That’s her job.”

Nathan studied the boy, surprised at his enthusiasm. The bulky wheelchair seemed out of place in an area so full of activity but Matthew didn’t seem to notice. He sat up straight, a soda in one hand as he watched the action on the ice in front of him. The jersey Nathan had sent with the tickets was too big for him, hanging on the boy’s slight frame. The way all boys wore sports jerseys, Nathan thought. His gaze traveled down, resting on the wad of denim that was neatly folded and pinned just below the knee.

“It doesn’t hurt.”

Nathan looked up and saw Matthew’s eyes on him, felt a rush of embarrassment when he realized he had been caught staring. He cleared his throat and offered him an awkward smile. “Sorry.”

Matthew shrugged and took a noisy slurp of the soda. “That’s okay. Lots of people stare. I’m used to it. You can ask if you want, it doesn’t upset me.”

“Ask you what?”

“How it happened. Everybody does. They had to cut it off because of the tumor.”

“Tumor?”

“Some kind of cancer. But it’s all gone now. That’s why they cut it off.”

Nathan felt the color drain from his face and he took a long swallow of soda to hide his embarrassment. Good Lord, what the poor kid must have gone through. It was a wonder Dr. Wilson really hadn’t thrown him out of her office the other day—through the window. At least it explained why the temperature had dropped so dramatically when he showed up tonight.

“How long ago did it happen?”

“Ten months ago. I’m going to get a pro—prost…a fake leg soon. Mom doesn’t think I’m ready yet, but the doctors do.”

“How come she doesn’t think you’re ready?”

Matthew turned to face him, a look of pure annoyance scrunching his features so comically that Nathan couldn’t help but laugh. It was the look boys of all ages used whenever they didn’t get their own way. “She doesn’t even know I know I can get one—she thinks I’m going to get hurt.”

“Hmm. I think I can see why she’d think that. I get the idea you’re all rough and tumble.”

“Mom says I’m hell on wheels right now.”

Nathan’s eyes widened, momentarily stunned at the no-nonsense tone of the boy’s voice. He noticed the flush creeping up from Matthew’s collar and knew the words had been said for effect only. “She does, huh?”

“Uh-huh. She says it’s probably a good thing she knows lots of doctors because I’m going to give her a heart attack.” Matthew pulled his attention from the game and studied Nathan with such an intense scrutiny that he had the sudden desire to squirm in his seat. “Do you like her?”

Nathan squarely met the boy’s serious gaze with one of his own, feeling like his intentions were suddenly being questioned. “Yeah, Matthew, I do.”

“Good. I’m glad.” Matthew’s face lit up with a huge smile and Nathan let out the breath he had been holding, feeling very much as if he had just passed some required test. The relief rolled over him unexpectedly and he was unable to suppress the stupid grin he knew was on his face.

The light feeling dimmed momentarily when a short blast of the siren sounded, this time signaling a score for the opposing team. Nathan bit back a curse and focused his attention on the JumboTron to watch the replay, surprised he had missed it.

A groan escaped him when he saw that the rookie playing his spot had failed to clear the puck from in front of the net, letting the other team score. One hand reached down and absently rubbed his knee, willing it to heal faster so he could get back to playing. He couldn’t afford to spend too much more time off the ice. If he did, there was a chance he’d miss making it to the finals. The way the Banners were playing, there was no doubt they’d be in the running for the Cup this year.

“Nathan?”

“What?” He flinched at the sharpness of his own voice and made an effort to soften it with a smile at Matthew.

“Don’t worry, you’ll play again. I know you will.” The certainty in the child’s voice touched a hidden spot deep inside him, a spot he didn’t want to examine too closely. Swallowing hard, he leaned over and ruffled the kid’s hair then pulled back guiltily when Dr. Wilson came to a stop behind the wheelchair. There was no mistaking the glint of warning in her eyes as she stared down at him.

The shrill sound of the buzzer echoed off the ice and pierced the noise of the crowd, silencing the excuse that had formed on his lips as effectively as it signaled the end of the game. The cheering crowd moved to its feet and slowly turned into a throng of beasts just two steps shy of a stampede, doing their best to scramble out of the arena. Nathan was struck by the uncomfortable silence that engulfed the three of them, setting them apart from the hordes. Embarrassment raced through him when he realized they were waiting for the crowd to thin before moving Matty’s wheelchair.

He glanced at his watch. “Hey, Matty, how’d you like to go meet everyone?”

“I don’t think—”

“Oh, too cool!” Matthew’s squeal of excitement drowned out the doctor’s objection. “Please, Mom, can I?” He turned in his wheelchair and looked up at her with wide brown eyes full of pleading, and Nathan knew that whatever objections she had been about to voice just died a swift death. Hell, even he wouldn’t have been able to resist that look. He noticed the doctor’s pursed lips and met her narrowed eyes as she reluctantly nodded her consent. Without a doubt, Matty knew exactly what buttons to push with his mom. Nathan decided he’d have to talk to the kid and find out what he was doing wrong. There was no doubt he was pushing the good doctor’s buttons, too.

It was just a shame they were all the wrong ones.

Chapter Three

Sweat poured from Nathan’s face; he reached up and absently wiped the stinging from his eye. Focus. He needed to focus. He struggled against the weight, feeling the pull in his knee. Focus! He repeated the word with a mental shout, over and over until the refrain obliterated the tearing pain he felt.

One more. Just one more.

He leaned back and gripped the padded handles harder, pulling, lifting, until a flash of heat tore through his knee. The sound of steel hitting steel rang out like a shot and echoed through the empty gym, taunting him with his failure.

“Damn!” Nathan wiped a towel across his face before resting his elbows on his knees. Just that little bit of pressure caused more pain and he winced before shifting positions.

“Damn!” The curse echoed around him. This was definitely not going the way he had planned. He was into his fourth week of physical therapy. He should be able to lift more weight by now. They had told him not to push it, but what did they know? If he waited as long as they suggested, he’d be old and gray before he went back to playing. That was a chance he couldn’t take.

Nathan ran his hands through his damp hair then stood, ignoring the throbbing in his leg that threatened to topple him to the floor before he got his balance. He limped halfway to the locker room, thinking of nothing but a long, hot shower followed by several ice packs when the gym door opened behind him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The voice was unnaturally loud, the anger and accusation bouncing off the walls. Nathan stopped with a sigh and slowly turned.

Sonny LeBlanc stormed across the floor, his meaty fists clenched by his sides when he stopped a foot away. Nathan fought the urge to flinch and make up excuses like a child. Sonny had that effect on everyone. At a stocky six feet tall, Sonny looked more like a former drill sergeant than a hockey coach. His dark eyes were harsh slits and the squareness of his face was made more austere by the buzz cut of his salt-and-pepper hair. The straight-edged scar that ran down the left side of his cheek glowed red under the bright overhead lights, an incongruous slash in an otherwise smooth face.

Sonny had the misfortune of running into a skate blade during one of his final games years earlier. Now one of the best coaches in the league, he had the reputation of remaining outwardly impassive—except for the scar. No matter how poker-faced the man stayed, the scar always betrayed him, glowing like a brand during times of anger and duress.

Right now, the brightness of the scar would light the gym if the power failed. Not a good sign for Nathan. He took a deep breath and let it out, waiting for the inevitable explosion.

“How stupid are you, Conners? How stupid do you think I am? What are you trying to do, blow every chance you have of coming back? I oughtta suspend you just for being dumb! I’d’ve thought you knew better! Well? What the hell are you doing?”

“Therapy.” Nathan’s tight voice seemed liked a whisper after Sonny’s outburst.

“Bull! I just got off the phone with that doctor of yours and he said you ain’t supposed to be doing any of this crap until you’re cleared.” Sonny’s finger came up and jabbed Nathan in the chest for emphasis. “And you’re not cleared! Now get in there and wash up and don’t let me catch you back here! I’m not going to have you blow your chance because of some bullheaded notion swimming around that thick skull of yours!”

Nathan clenched his jaw and stared at Sonny’s broad back as he left, feeling like an ultimatum had been laid at his feet. So now they were trying to keep him from working on his own, were they? Well, he’d just go see about that. He had too much at stake to let it rest in someone else’s lap.

“I need to see Dr. Porter,” Nathan repeated for the third time, leaning closer to the desk so he hovered over the receptionist. He felt a second of gratitude when she flinched.

“Mr. Conners, I’m sorry, but I already explained he left for the day. I can make an appoint—”

“No! I want to see him. Now.”

“There is nothing I can do. I’m sorry.”

Nathan glared at the small woman staring back at him and called himself every kind of fool. He would get nowhere by browbeating the poor lady, but he couldn’t just turn around and walk away. He had come here full of steam, eager for a face-off. He couldn’t give up so easily, not when there was so much at stake. “What about Dr. Wilson? Is she in?”

The receptionist eyed him warily then flipped through one of the many appointment books in front of her. He was grabbing at straws, he knew, but he was desperate.

“Yes, she’s still here.”

“Fine, then I’ll see her.”

“Mr. Conners, you can’t just walk in…she has patients.”

Nathan shot a quick look around the empty waiting room then turned back to the receptionist. “I need to see her!”

“Mr. Conners, I said—”

“What is going on out here?” Nathan turned at the sound of the cool voice, swallowed hard at the look of steel in the dark eyes that impaled him.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Wilson, but Mr. Conners insists on seeing someone….”

“In my office!” She turned smartly on her heels and walked down the short hallway, stopping at the open door of her office and shooting him a look of impatient anger. Nathan clenched his jaw and followed, preparing for the battle he had initiated. He flinched when she slammed the door behind them. The apology that hovered on the edge of his lips died before he could utter it.

“Who do you think you are, storming in here and shouting like that?” Clenched fists rested on her slim hips as she stared at him, the fury evident in her flushed face and heavy breathing. Nathan fought back his own anger, knowing he had instigated her temper with his loud demands. It would be easier to ignore her if his gaze would stop traveling the length of her body, noticing how different she looked from the other night. She was dressed more conservatively in dark trousers and an oversize lab coat that hid the blouse she was wearing.

“Well?”

Nathan pulled his gaze back to her face, noticed the flush that had spread across her cheeks and realized he had missed the last part of her angry tirade. He shifted from one foot to the other and tried not to wince at the sudden flare in his knee. “What?”

“I wanted to know who you thought…never mind.” She pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear and walked back to her desk, passing close enough to Nathan that he could smell the faint hint of her perfume. Something flowery, he thought. “I assume you have some reason for barging in here like Attila the Hun on steroids?”

“Uh, yeah.” Nathan straightened, determined to think of the woman in front of him as a doctor only. The sudden thought that she could possibly be his chance to go back to the ice sobered him. “I want you to look at my knee. I’ve been in therapy for four weeks, and I want to be cleared to go back. At least to practice.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said no.” She lowered herself to her chair and bent over some paperwork, the tip of her pen making scratching noises in the silence. Nathan stared at her in bewilderment before realizing she had, once again, dismissed him.

“Why not?” They were the first words that tumbled from his mouth, far from the angry demand he wanted to make.

Catherine’s impatient sigh brought him up short. She leaned across her desk and pointed at him with a stern finger. “Number one, you are not my patient. If Bri—Dr. Porter wants you released, that’s up to him, though he’d be a fool if he did. And number two, you’re not ready. Period.”

“How do you know what I am and am not ready for?”

“You can’t even stand there with all your weight on that leg, can you? No, you can’t, and don’t lie and say you can. I’m a doctor, and it’ll take more than minor acting to fool me!” Her voice was chilly and she slowly stood, her hand shaking as she pointed at him with that long finger. Nathan knew something else was wrong. There was a split second when he thought to question her, to discover the reason for her misplaced anger, before her earlier words actually sunk in.

He took a hasty step toward her desk and curbed the urge to collapse against it, choosing instead to lean his fists on the glossy surface for support. “What do you mean, he’d be a fool to?” Nathan struggled to keep the fear and anxiety from his voice. “You don’t think I’ll play again, do you?”

She stared at him, a flash of sympathy in the depths of her eyes. She didn’t have to answer him—her look said it all. Her sympathy struck anger inside him. Anger and irrational fear. Nathan stepped back, stunned. He wanted to lash out at her unspoken statement, to scream his denial. The words that finally tumbled from his mouth shocked them both.

“Please don’t make the mistake of trying to protect me the way you are your son. That would cost me my entire career!”

Catherine’s face drained of all color as she flinched. Too late, Nathan realized that his words had hurt her more effectively than if she had been slapped. The anger inside him suddenly disappeared, replaced with deep humiliation. He struggled to find a way to break the growing silence. An apology seemed so trite, but it was the only thing he could offer. The empty words fell from his mouth in a hoarse whisper.

Catherine stumbled backward into her chair, her face void of any expression. Knowing that staying would only make things worse, Nathan turned to leave.

“No, wait.” He halted at her shaky voice, then slowly turned back, expecting some heavy object to come hurtling through the air at him. “What did you mean by that?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it.”

“But you did. What did you mean?” She stared at him, her brown eyes dark with anticipation as she pointed to the empty chair. “Please?”

Nathan hesitated only a second before walking back to the desk and easing his weight into the chair, stretching his left leg in front of him and giving it a quick rub. “Matthew said something about you not letting him get a prosthesis because you were afraid he’d be hurt.”

“He told you that?” It was phrased as a question but Nathan heard the bewildered shock that laced the words. “But he doesn’t even know you!”

“Sometimes it’s easier for a kid to talk to someone he doesn’t know. I got the idea that there weren’t many people willing to talk to him about his amputation.” He watched her expression, saw the tiny flinch in her shoulders and slight pursing of her lips at the word amputation.

“No. I, uh, that is, I thought it would be best…”

“Listen, Matthew’s a bright kid. It was his leg that suffered, not his brain. Don’t treat him like an invalid.”

“Did he tell you what happened?”

“He just said it was some kind of cancer.”

Catherine pulled her attention away from the pen she had been studying and finally looked at the man sitting across from her. Those strange eyes were focused on her and she had the uncanny sensation that he was seeing more than she wanted him to see. If it was her choice, she would be sharing nothing of her personal life with him; it seemed Matty had different ideas. She released her breath on a long sigh and leaned back in the chair.

“Matty was diagnosed with Ewing’s sarcoma a year and a half ago. It’s a bone disease that affects children, usually boys. It was decided that amputation and chemotherapy would increase his chance of survival. Matty responded very well to everything, and so far there’s no sign that the cancer has spread. But there’s always that fear.” Catherine choked out the last words, the ball of fright still tight in her stomach. She watched Nathan’s expression, looking for either the horror or the pity that people seemed to have after hearing the story.

Instead, she saw understanding in the clear eyes that held her gaze and swore she almost heard some kind of click. She looked away, swallowing against the sudden realization that Nathan Conners had somehow, suddenly, become a part of their lives. It wasn’t a realization she was eager to embrace.

“I take back what I said earlier. Your son’s a lot more than just a bright kid.”

Catherine wasn’t sure what to make of that comment so she said nothing. Instead, she tried to figure out exactly what had changed between them in the past five minutes. More importantly, why it had changed. She missed the last part of what he was saying and looked back at him, asking him to repeat it.

“I said, there’s a sports clinic for kids with disabilities. I think Matthew would enjoy it.” He pulled a card from his wallet and passed it across to her. She set it to the side with nothing more than a passing glance.

“We’ll see.” Catherine fidgeted in the silence that hung between them, feeling like she should say or do something. She cleared her throat and pointed to his knee. “Um, did you want me to look at that for you?”

“I thought you said there was nothing you could do.”

“I can’t clear you, if that’s what you’re expecting, but I can look at it. I can tell it’s swollen. Draining may help, and maybe a shot of—Mr. Conners, are you okay?” Catherine jumped from her chair and quickly circled the desk, alarmed at the sudden change in him. His face was pale and sweaty. She didn’t have to be a doctor to realize he was close to passing out and she placed a hand on his shoulder to ease him slightly over.

“Put your head between your legs. That’s it. Nice deep breaths. No, not so fast. You’ll hyperventilate. Nice and deep. There you go.” Satisfied that he wasn’t going to topple over in the next five seconds, Catherine released her hold on him and leaned over to push the intercom on her desk.

“I’m okay.” His deep voice was muffled as he continued to bend forward, his head between his knees.

“No, you’re about two seconds away from passing out.”

Nathan took another deep breath and slowly sat up. She was relieved to see that some of his color had returned and that his face was no longer covered with sweat. “It’s needles.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Needles. I hate them. Always have.”

Catherine remained still, eyeing him warily, wondering if he was playing some kind of joke on her. She noticed both sincerity and embarrassment in his eyes. The laughter escaped her before she knew it was coming, before she had a chance to push it back. The look of mortification in his eyes only made her laugh harder and she clamped her hand over her mouth.

“Sure. Go ahead and laugh. It’s a real hoot. Big hockey player brought to his knees by a tiny needle. Hysterical.” His deep voice was light and laced with irony, making Catherine laugh even more.

“I’m sorry.” Another deep breath. “I just didn’t think…I mean…” One more breath. “I’m sorry.”

“No problem. Anything to brighten your day.” Nathan smiled then rose from the chair, his large frame unfolding with a feline grace in spite of the obvious discomfort in his knee. Her breath caught as she watched him stand, only inches from her.

“Don’t stop.” Nathan reached out and gently grabbed her chin with one hand, turning her face toward him. “You have a nice smile. You should do it more often.”

“Mr. Conners, I—”

“Nathan, please.”

“Nathan.” Catherine stepped back, needing to put distance between them. She heaved a sigh of relief when he released her from his gentle hold.

“And should I call you Catherine?” His crooked smile and tawny eyes were focused on her with a charm that was nearly irresistible. She took a nervous step back and silently cursed when the edge of the desk bit into the back of her thighs.

“Yes. I mean, no. No. I don’t believe in doctors and patients getting personal with one another.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing you’re not my doctor, isn’t it, Catherine?” His smile never faltered as he turned and walked to the door, stopping to look back at her with an unreadable expression on his face. “I was serious about that clinic for Matthew. And I think it would be good if he went to more games, too. I’ll send over some more tickets. Catherine.”

She stared after him, astounded at the onslaught of charm she had just been subjected to, wondering which was worse: that she had allowed the flirting banter, or that she had enjoyed it.

Don’t do it.

A voice of conscience piped up and screamed at her before she could get any idiotic notions in her head. She could not—would not—let Nathan Conners into her life. Or Matty’s. It would only invite disappointment for both of them. Matty would become attached, then be hurt when he left. And he would leave. It was unthinkable that any steady dependability would come from someone who wasn’t family.

Catherine sat behind the desk and absently shuffled the files in front of her. She couldn’t allow anyone else into their lives. She had to think of Matty’s feelings, nothing else. She grabbed the card Nathan had given her and threw it into the wastebasket beside her desk, hoping she could remove the other influences he had left behind just as easily.

“You don’t need to be so tense, Catherine.”

“I can’t help it.” She unclasped her hands and wiped them down the front of her jeans before facing Brian. “What if he gets hurt?”

Brian chuckled then swung his arm in a wide arc, encompassing the large room with machines of all shapes and sizes, with an attendant at each one. “Here? You’re sounding unreasonable. This is the safest place for him and you know it.”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. They were standing off to one side, watching as Matty practiced with his new prosthesis. Two weeks had passed since he first got it, and even his therapist was amazed at how well he was doing. Catherine kept her gaze on Matty, watching for the slightest indication that he might fall or that he was tiring. Then she would firmly suggest to everyone that the prosthesis could wait until later.

“He’s not going to give up, you know.”

Catherine pasted a smile on her face and waved to Matty, then faced Brian. He was watching her with a hooded expression, his eyes serious behind the wire-rimmed glasses. “I don’t want him hurt. He’s been through too much already.”

“So you’d take away his new freedom? I thought I knew you better than that.”

The accusation hung between them, made worse by Brian’s quiet voice. In all the years she had known him, he had always been reliable, always supporting her and Matty. It wasn’t like him to sound so critical.

“You need to let him go, Catherine.”

“He’s nine years old. I don’t need to do anything but protect him.” The words came out in a hiss and caught the attention of another parent standing several feet away. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want him hurt. Is that so terrible?”

“No, it’s not. As long as you don’t go overboard.”

“But what’s overboard? Are you saying it would be better if I just let him go, let him do what he wants?”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Catherine, and you know it. And you also know how far is too far for him. Don’t let the voice of reason get lost in your need to protect him.”

“Voice of reason.” Catherine forced a half laugh, her attention focused on Matty. He was back in the wheelchair, removing the prosthesis with the therapist’s help. “He told me the other day he wants to play hockey. Hockey, for crying out loud! Like I don’t know where that idea came from.”

Brian crossed his arms in front of him and shrugged, almost too nonchalantly. “Who knows? Maybe one day he will.”

“What? You didn’t just say that. I’m imagining things.” Catherine studied her friend, saw the barely noticeable blotch of red creeping up from his shirt collar. A muscle twitched in his jaw. “What is it, Brian? What aren’t you telling me?”

His mouth opened and closed silently. He pursed his lips together and shrugged again, still refusing to face her. She folded her own arms in front of her and stepped into his line of vision, ready to demand an answer.

“Hey, Mom! Did you see that?” Matty’s excited voice came from behind and she turned to face him, forcing a bright smile. She gave the therapist a passing glance then bent down so she could be on eye level with Matty.

“I sure did. You’re getting better each day.”

“He’s done remarkably well, Dr. Wilson. At the rate he’s progressing, it won’t be long before he’s sprinting with that new leg of his.” Catherine straightened and leveled a serious look at Matty’s therapist, Paul. She wanted to tell him, to scream at him, that there was no way she would allow her son to risk getting hurt by doing something as foolish as sprinting with a prosthesis. Or running. Or even walking fast. But there was no way she could say any of that, not now and certainly not here, so she just smiled tightly and said nothing.

Matty waved goodbye to Paul then looked from her to Brian and back again, a look of excitement on his face. Catherine felt the bottom of her stomach drop in anticipation.

“Did you tell her yet, Uncle Bri?”

“Um, not yet.”

Catherine looked from one to the other, at the excitement dancing in Matty’s eyes and the frown creasing Brian’s forehead. Her stomach did another funny little dip. “Tell me what?”

“Uncle Brian got me into this neat camp for kids like me. It’s got sports and all kinds of stuff, and there’s even going to be some pro guys there. Isn’t that cool, Mom?”

Catherine clenched her jaw against the sudden fear and fury that ripped through her and turned to Brian, ignoring Matty as he pulled on her hand. “What is he talking about?”

“I heard about this sports camp run by the players of some local teams and thought it would be good for Matty. I made arrangements to have him enrolled.”

“How dare you go behind my back and do something like this! And who told you about it?” She didn’t know why she was asking; she already knew the answer.

“Mom?” Matty pulled on her hand. “I can do it, right?”

“Matty, I…I don’t think so.” She tried to soften her voice, to lessen the blow to Matty, but disappointment still flashed in his eyes. He yanked his hand from hers and looked away, sending a sharp stab of pain through her. She faced Brian, her anger clear.

“Who told you about it, Brian? Who?”

“Nathan Conners.”

“He went to you? After I already told him no, he went to you!” She shook her head, wanting to say more, knowing she couldn’t. She stepped behind Matty’s wheelchair and grabbed the handles, squeezing until she thought they would bend. “I think you know what both of you can do.”

“He came to me because he thought you were being unreasonable. I happened to agree with him.”

“Mom, I can do it, can’t I? You’re going to let me do it, right?” Catherine’s throat constricted at the pain in Matty’s voice and she had to swallow before answering.

“Matty, sweetie. You’re not ready. I don’t want you hurt.”

“But, Mom—”

“Matty, I said no, not right now.”

“Catherine, don’t you think—”

She shrugged Brian’s hand from her shoulder. “I think you need to mind your own business. I think you need to tell your patients to mind their own business.”

“Catherine…”

“I have nothing more to say to you.” She leaned into the heavy chair and pushed. Brian’s betrayal bit into her, hurting her in a way she hadn’t expected.

“Mom, why can’t I?”

“Because I said. I don’t want to hear another word.”

Catherine squeezed her eyes against the tears, blinking back all but one that rolled down her cheek. She wiped her face on her sweater. The last thing she needed was for the waterworks to start, not here and especially not now.

Matty was doing enough crying for them both.

Chapter Four

Catherine rolled the tension from her shoulders, closed her eyes and let her head fall against the back of the sofa. The faint scent of candles surrounded her and she breathed in the mix of vanilla and rose, searching for some inner relaxation.

Three days had passed since she had told Matty in no uncertain terms that he would not be participating in any sports clinic. Three days since he had talked to her, not even a murmur of anger or argument. It had been a long three days.

Catherine sighed and opened her eyes, stared down at the nearly forgotten glass of Chardonnay in her hands before taking a sip, not caring that it was no longer chilled. She had finally caved in, unwilling to face the anger and hurt that stared back at her whenever she looked at Matty. She had called Brian that morning, told him to pick up Matty and take him to the camp.

An excited Matty had called a few hours ago, telling her that he and Brian were going to a hockey game. Before she could protest, Brian got on the phone and explained that the tickets were a gift and not to worry, Matty could spend the night.

Dead silence floated back from the phone before Catherine had a chance to question or argue.

So here she sat, alone and lonely, brooding over a glass of warm white wine. Wishing she had never laid eyes on Nathan Conners but unable to banish his image from her mind.

She sighed again then tossed back the last of the wine in her glass, wincing at the warm bitterness. It was just past eight o’clock and already she felt lost. She didn’t want to consider why, didn’t want to face the truth that any normalcy in her life had stopped with Matty’s illness. Now that he was on the quick road to recovery, doing normal things for kids his age, it was time for her to do the same. And she was afraid.

Catherine muttered a curse then pushed herself from the sofa and walked to the kitchen, blinking at the bright overhead light. She took several steps then stopped, looking around as if seeing the room for the first time.

Clean white surfaces, gleaming steel appliances, shiny green-and-white tile floor. A small pine table surrounded by four ladderback chairs sat in front of a bay window framed in cheery yellow gingham curtains, two place mats arranged at either end with green napkins neatly rolled and waiting in the center of each. The cheeriness of the room escaped her, and the only thing she noticed was its cleanliness. Neat, clean and orderly.

Efficient. And boring.

“I’m losing it.” Her voice echoed back to her, making her feel worse. She placed the empty glass on the counter then opened the refrigerator and pulled out a pint container of orange juice and drank from it. Matty would have been surprised, considering how often she admonished him for the same thing.

She rinsed the empty carton and tossed it into the recycling bin. More efficiency.

It was a Saturday night and she was home alone. Her nine-year-old son was out having a good time while she stood in her kitchen. Alone. Thinking about how efficient everything was.

Definitely boring.

She glanced at her watch again and saw that only a few minutes had gone by. There was no reason she should be home by herself. Never mind the fact that she had nothing to do and nobody to do it with. Matty and Brian were at the hockey game. She could meet up with them, apologize for being so touchy the last few days and see if they wanted to go do something. Maybe go to the Inner Harbor, walk around and get some ice cream.

The keys were in her hand and she was out the door before she realized they might not want her company. She shoved the thought to the back of her mind, leaving it behind as she pulled the minivan out of the driveway.

The soles of Catherine’s tennis shoes squeaked on the polished tile floor, the sound echoing strangely in the hollow silence. She stopped and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, sighing. Except for a few stray voices that floated up to her from the lower seats, the arena was deserted.

She looked around, swallowing an insane desire to cry. How could she have missed the entire game? She exhaled a long breath and began the dizzying descent to the arena floor, her gaze lowered to concentrate on the unusually spaced concrete steps.

If not for the delays with the light rail, she would have had time to at least find Matty and Brian and see part of the third period. Instead, she arrived at the arena and learned that the game had ended twenty minutes earlier, with the Banners winning 3 to 2. The victory did little to boost her spirits as she tried to convince the security guard to let her in so she could see if Matty and Brian were still there.

The fact that she had to finally say they were guests of Nathan Conners was a fresh wound to her pride. She waited while the guard made a phone call, then grimaced at his slick smile and flash of innuendo. It made her feel like a groupie. She briefly wondered how many players were accustomed to groupies, how many times security had called down to Nathan Conners.

Catherine refused to look too deeply into where that thought was leading, telling herself instead that it was just one more reason to keep Matty away from the hockey player.

She reached the bottom of the steps, rubbing her hands against the chill running down her arms as she looked around, hoping to see a familiar face near the players’ box. Row after row of empty chairs stared back at her.

“Catherine?” The voice came from behind, startling her even as the flesh on her arms prickled with heat. She turned and swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat as Nathan descended the last few steps. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Her mouth worked silently as she stared up at him. His dark hair was slicked back, still damp from the shower he had obviously just taken, the ends hanging below the collar of his polo shirt. The faint scent of fresh soap mingled with his aftershave and teased her nose as her mind tried to connect the circuits in charge of her conversational skills.

“Neither did I.” The words tumbled from her mouth, causing Nathan to smile wider as she mentally winced. “I mean, I didn’t plan on being here. I, uh, I thought Matty might be here.”

“No, I haven’t seen him.” Nathan stepped closer to her and she scooted backward. A flash of amusement lit his eyes and he motioned for her to sit. Catherine lowered herself into an aisle seat as he sat across from her. Her gaze ran down his long legs in a quick sweep, coming to rest at the spot where his bare ankles showed between the frayed hem of his faded jeans and the top of his Birkenstocks. “Should I have?”

“Pardon?” Catherine yanked her gaze away from his bare ankles and met his stare, embarrassment heating her face.

“I said, is there a reason I should have seen him?”

“Uh, I thought, that is, Brian took him to the sports clinic today and they called to say they had tickets for tonight. I just thought…” Catherine let her voice trail off, feeling the first twinge of worry scratch along her spine like nails on a blackboard. There was no reason to worry, she told herself. Matty was with Brian. They were fine.

“They probably got the tickets from the clinic. I wouldn’t worry too much. I wish I had known they were here, though.”

“You didn’t see them at the camp?” Catherine’s pulse pounded louder in her ear as anxiety crept in. They had to have been at the camp—Matty had called saying how much fun he’d had.

“No. I’m not usually there.”

“But I thought—” Catherine jerked in surprise at the vibration that thrummed near her hip then let out a loud sigh. Cursing the pager that kept startling her, she unclipped it from the waistband of her pants and squinted at the number flashing across the LED screen. A sigh of relief escaped her when she recognized Brian’s home number.

“Good news, I take it.”

Catherine flashed a wry smile at Nathan, suddenly feeling foolish. She reached into her purse and rummaged for the cell phone. “It’s Brian. Probably wondering where I am.”

“I see.” A flicker of something lit his eyes for a moment then disappeared. He stood and motioned behind him with a quick point of his thumb and grinned, drawing her attention to a small group of fans who were hanging back from them. “I’ll let you have some privacy for that call.”

Catherine stared after his broad back as he walked away, feeling like she had just missed something. She watched as two young girls sauntered toward Nathan, smiling and flirting with serious intent in their eyes. A knot of impatience swelled in Catherine’s stomach as she realized that the “girls” were in their early twenties. The laughing group suddenly made her feel old. She couldn’t remember ever being—or acting—that young.

“Knock it off,” she whispered, stabbing at the buttons of the cell phone. Brian’s voice greeted her on the third ring.

“I’m at the arena. I thought I’d meet you guys here but I guess not, huh?” Catherine said when he asked where she was.

“Sorry. We would have waited if we had known. But Matty’s fine. He’s sleeping now.” There was a long pause as Catherine tried to think of something to say to ease the tension that had hovered between them the last few days.

“Listen, Brian, about the other day. I acted like a jerk.”

“You sure did.”

Catherine felt her lips turn up in a small smile at the sound of humor in his voice. “Don’t rub it in.”

“Not now, anyway. I’ll save it for later. So tell me why you’re still there. Are you with Nathan?”

She glanced sideways at the smiling crowd, feeling like an interloper as they laughed at something Nathan said. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and looked away. “Hardly. In fact, I’m getting ready to go home now.”

Catherine began the climb up the steps, careful to keep her distance from the crowd while keeping one eye on her footing as she made plans to have Matty dropped off tomorrow. She was dropping the phone back in her purse when she heard her name being called. The urge to stop and turn was overwhelming, but the memory of the young girls kept her feet moving. She didn’t need to make herself feel any older by seeing them up close.

The light rail was her headache for the evening. Now, in addition to humiliating herself with her hasty retreat from Nathan, she had missed the train back home. The wait for the next one wouldn’t have been so bad, except for one thing.

Nathan Conners had beat the train to the stop and was staring up at her from the driver’s seat of a flashy BMW convertible, its top down in spite of the chilly February air. His high-wattage smile was turned on her full-force as he tried to convince her to let him drive her home. Catherine glanced at her watch, then down the tracks, hoping the train would be early.

“No, thank you,” she repeated through clenched teeth.

“C’mon, Doc. One ride. It’s the least I can do.”

Murmurs of encouragement grew from the crowd waiting at the stop with her. She gritted her teeth together, wondering what she should do. With a sigh, Catherine hitched the straps of her purse higher on her shoulder and grabbed for the door handle of the car, nearly yanking it off in frustration. Nathan was all smiles as he jammed the car in gear and sped away. Catherine braced her hand against the dash and reached for the seat belt, feeling only slightly safer when she had it securely fastened.

“So is it always playtime for you?” Catherine raised her voice to be heard above the cold wind racing past them as Nathan maneuvered the small car along the dark city streets. He flashed her his crooked smile and shrugged.

“You looked like you could use a laugh.”

“At my own expense, right?” Catherine winced at the sharpness of her words, wondering why she always seemed to be so bitter around him. Brian was right. Nathan really did seem like a nice guy. So why did she always act this way around him?

“What?” Nathan turned to look at her, surprised at the brightness of her eyes and the flush he could see in the passing street-lights. His foot hit the brake and he pulled the car to a stop on a deserted side street as Catherine braced herself with an outstretched hand. He threw the car into First gear and cut the engine, then turned in his seat and stared at her. “I wasn’t making fun of you, Catherine, I was trying to make you smile. I didn’t realize you took everything so personally. I’m sorry.”

He watched as a muscle worked in her jaw, noticed the way her chin came up a fraction of an inch and the way her lips pursed together, though in anger, hurt or stubbornness he couldn’t tell. Probably all three. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m not very good company right now. Maybe you should just take me back to the light rail stop.”

Nathan sighed and ran his hands through his hair. This was not working out as he had planned. Seeing Catherine at the arena had been an unexpected but definitely welcome surprise. He had wanted to ask her to go for a cup of coffee or a drink or something, but backed away when she had mentioned calling Dr. Porter. Then she left the arena so fast he wasn’t able to catch up to her. It had been pure luck seeing her at the light rail stop. Only now, instead of laughing or smiling, she was sitting next to him looking like she had lost her best friend. And suddenly he wanted her to smile, just for him.

He sighed again and reached for the key in the ignition, wondering what he should do. The engine turned over with a small purr as he faced her. “Where’s your car? I’ll drop you off there so you won’t have to take the light rail.”

“Um, the Timonium stop.”

Nathan nodded then made a U-turn in the middle of the street, tires squealing as he gave the car too much gas. He reached down and adjusted the stereo until a classic rock tune blared from the speakers. His foot pressed harder on the accelerator in response to the music. From the corner of his eye he saw Catherine’s white-knuckle grip on the edge of her seat, and he eased up on the gas.

He turned the stereo down, then shot her a cautious glance. “Instead of taking you home, we could go out somewhere, get something to drink and maybe have some fun. Unless you have something against having fun, that is.” Nathan had meant the last comment jokingly and was surprised when her expression turned even gloomier. She bit down on her lower lip then hesitantly looked over at him, her dark eyes wide and sad.

“Why do you think I have something against having fun?”

“What?” Nathan stared at her, surprised to hear her voice waver when she repeated the question. A horn blared behind them and he muttered to himself before turning onto a side street. There were no empty spots here to pull into, so he double-parked before turning his full attention on her.

“I don’t, you know.” Her voice was small and soft, nearly lost in the underlying noise that made up Baltimore’s nights. She cleared her throat and sat up straighter, and Nathan had the distinct impression that she was trying not to squirm. “I think our ideas of fun are probably just different, I guess.”

“Oh, yeah? So, what’s your idea of fun?” Nathan asked. She shrugged one small shoulder, refusing to look at him. He took a deep breath and looked around, then smiled. Without a word he put the car in gear and drove off.

“Where are we going?”

“To have some fun.”

The smell of beer and Old Bay rushed from the open door and mixed with the damp smell of the harbor, creating an aroma that was both bitter and appealing. Catherine wrinkled her nose and pushed a hand against her rumbling stomach as Nathan led her through the crowded bar to a back table that was barely large enough to seat one person. He pulled the chair out for her then commandeered another for himself, sitting too close for comfort.

“Do you like steamed shrimp?” Nathan’s voice was a warm whisper against her ear, causing a shiver to work its way through her. She tried to pull away, to put some distance between them, but there was no room to move. She swallowed against the lump in her throat and nodded, then sighed when Nathan stood and walked to the bar. It was hard not to notice the stares he attracted, including her own.

Catherine pulled her gaze away and looked around the smoky room, taking in the anonymous faces of the crowd and wondering again why she was there. Nathan had said nothing about their destination, only smiled when she asked. It had been a bit of a surprise when he wheeled the sports car down the cobblestone streets of Fells Point and led her into the waterfront bar famous for its steamed shrimp. She had heard about it before, of course, but this was her first time there. It made her think about other things she had missed out on.

What was with her tonight, she wondered. Every thought working its way into her mind was dismal, morose and depressing. If she wasn’t careful, she’d turn into an old biddy with no life. Not like she had much of one as it was…

Catherine rubbed her hands along her arms and tried to warm herself against the inner chill that threatened to take over. Too much of her time lately had been devoted to Matty. No, she corrected, not her time. Her life. She would never trade those moments for anything, but with Matty discovering a life outside their world, it made her wonder what was left for her.

“You okay?”

Catherine jerked around, surprised to see Nathan sitting next to her, surprised that she had been so deep in thought that she hadn’t noticed his return to the table. She nodded and offered him what she hoped was a passable smile then accepted the mug of beer he held out for her.

“Our shrimp will be ready in a few minutes.” He motioned to the mug in her hand. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted to drink. Is beer okay? I can get you something else—”

“No, this is fine.” She took a small sip to prove her point then sat the mug in front of her, running a finger around the smooth edge of the glass.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You look…preoccupied.”

“Just thinking.” Catherine shrugged, not wanting to look at him but watching him from the corner of her eye as if some force drew her attention to him. He was sitting so close to her she could feel the heat of his legs next to hers, the occasional brush of his foot against her own. Tall, well-built and confident, his presence was nearly overwhelming. People in the bar stopped to look at him, noticed him when he did nothing more exciting than sit there. Catherine shifted in the wooden chair, wondering if people actually recognized him or if they merely reacted to the energy that surrounded him.

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. We can leave—”

Catherine reached out and closed her hand over his arm to stop him from standing and shook her head, trying to ignore the vibrant heat that sent a jolt tingling through her where her flesh met his. She heard the words coming from her mouth, unable to stop them. “No, please. I want to stay.”

Nathan glanced at the pale, shaking hand on his arm, then into Catherine’s brown eyes and saw the wariness swimming in their dark depths. He took a deep breath to protect himself from the vulnerability that trembled through her and tried to offer her a carefree smile. The expression felt stiff on his face, must have looked stiff, too, because she suddenly removed her hand and looked away, a tinge of pink fanning her cheeks.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. Maybe we should leave.” She grabbed her purse and pushed her chair back, rising so quickly she stumbled. Nathan reached out and grabbed her, wanting only to steady her. His hand closed around her arm but instead of helping her, the contact stole whatever was left of her balance and she tumbled straight into his lap. The breath rushed out of Nathan in a hiss as her purse connected solidly with his left knee; a thousand needles of pain shot through his leg.

“Oh, God. Oh, God. I am so sorry. I didn’t mean…Oh, God!” Catherine tried to scramble from his lap and elbowed him in the stomach, stepping on his foot in her hurry. He reached out, wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her back to his lap, mostly to stop her from inflicting any more damage.

“Catherine, stop. It’s okay. I’m okay. Just…don’t hit me again. Please.” He felt her body stiffen against him at the laughter in his voice, then realized she was shaking. He tried to shift her weight so he could see her face, thinking that she was finally laughing. A jolt clenched his stomach when he saw that she was doing her best not to cry.

“Oh, damn,” he muttered. He looked around, realized there was no one who could explain why this woman was suddenly crying and felt completely helpless. She wiped at the single tear rolling down her face, refusing to look at him as he awkwardly patted her shoulder. He searched his mind for something to say, something to do, and came up blank. “Catherine?”

“I’m sorry. I’m fine. I’m sorry.” She jumped from his lap and took a few steps away from him, then suddenly turned and raced out the door before he could stop her. He stared at the spot where she had been then shook his head in confusion.

Nathan motioned to the bartender to cancel the shrimp order then walked out the door, wondering what he had done to upset Catherine so much. He looked around, finally seeing her standing against the wrought-iron railing set up along the water’s edge. She stood just outside the ring of light that fell from the street lamp but he could see that she was no longer crying. Her back stiffened at his approach but she refused to turn around.

“Are you all right?”

Silence.

“Um, did I do something to upset you?”

More silence. Nathan shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and shifted awkwardly, not knowing what to say or do. He stared out over the still water, watching the lights across the harbor twinkle on the black surface.

“I’m sorry if I did something to upset you.”

“No, I’m the one who should be sorry. It’s nothing you did.” The whispered words were choked with emotion as she glanced at him then quickly looked away. “I guess I’m not used to…I mean, it’s been awhile since I’ve gone anywhere and…”

Catherine’s voice trailed off awkwardly and Nathan leaned closer to get a better look. Her eyes were dark hollows in a pale face. The shadows of the night washed across her skin and accented the delicate planes of her cheeks. She looked helpless and lost and scared, and Nathan wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold her, to reassure her that everything was going to be okay.

Instead of holding her like he wanted, he yanked one hand from his pocket and reached out to awkwardly pat her on her shoulder. She stiffened under his touch and he let his hand drop to his side, cursing himself for only making things worse. What did he know about comforting women? He had grown up in a family of three boys without a mother’s influence, where talk of sports dominated every conversation. Any emotion deeper than that died a swift death, simply because nobody knew how to deal with it.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, louder this time. Her shoulders shook with a deep breath as she continued to stare out over the water. “It’s just been a bad day. Actually, more like a bad week. I didn’t mean to ruin your evening.”

“That’s okay. I didn’t have anything better to do.” Nathan winced at his poor choice of words and scrambled to find something else to say. “I mean, I did kind of force you to come along. I thought, well, I shouldn’t have forced you.”

Silence settled between them, awkward against the backdrop of the sounds surrounding them. Laughter from couples and small groups walking along the street, muffled sounds of music drifting into the night from the doorways of the different pubs, the steady thump-thump-thump of car tires along the cobblestone street. Nathan took a deep breath and wished for a way to draw Catherine out of the silence and into the life that ebbed and flowed around them. Forcing her had proved to be a mistake. Short of bodily dragging her, he could think of nothing else.

“Maybe we should just leave now.” Her quiet voice pulled his attention back to her. She was watching him with those dark eyes, her hair a protective veil that fell across her face. He stared at her for a minute, trying to read her thoughts, but he couldn’t see through the wall that surrounded her. He took a deep breath and pulled the keys from his pocket, trying to smile and failing.

“Sure, no problem.” He motioned for her to lead the way and watched as she stepped from the curb, following her with his eyes and wishing there was some way to reach her. She stopped next to his car and turned, looking lost again. Nathan squared his shoulders and walked toward her.

Tonight could have gone a lot better. She wasn’t as untouchable as he first thought, and he wanted to find some way to breach her protective barrier and get to know her better.

He just needed to figure out the best way to do it.

Chapter Five

“So how was your date with Nathan the other night?”

“It was not a date.” Catherine didn’t even bother to look at Brian. His snort of laughter told her he knew better but she ignored him anyway.

“Okay, so it wasn’t a date. But how did it go?”

“It didn’t.”

“What do you mean, ‘it didn’t’? He took you out, right?”

Catherine sighed, knowing he wouldn’t give up until she told him the whole embarrassing truth. She leaned back in her chair, took a deep breath and let the words fall in a rush. “We went out. Not a date. I hit his knee, fell on him, cried on him, he dropped me off at my car. End of night, end of story.”

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