The Boss and Nurse Albright
Lynne Marshall

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Title Page

Praise

About the author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Copyright

Praise for TEMPORARY DOCTOR, SURPRISE FATHER by Lynne Marshall:

‘A touching, tender and engrossing Medical™ Romance, TEMPORARY DOCTOR, SURPRISE FATHER is a wonderful story which I devoured in a single sitting! Don’t miss this talented storyteller’s enchanting tale of second chances, devastating secrets and the redeeming power of love!’

—Cataromance

‘Lynne Marshall’s excellent writing skills lend excitement and credibility to this story…The tension between Jan and Beck is realistic, and keeps you reading to the very end.’

—The Pink Heart Society Reviews

Lynne Marshall has been a Registered Nurse in a large California hospital for twenty-five years. She has now taken the leap to writing full-time, but still volunteers at her local community hospital. After writing the book of her heart in 2000, she discovered the wonderful world of Mills & Boon® Medical™ Romance, where she feels the freedom to write the stories she loves. She is happily married, has two fantastic grown children, and a socially challenged rescued dog. Besides her passion for writing Medical™ Romance, she loves to travel and read. Thanks to the family dog, she takes long walks every day! To find out more about Lynne, please visit her website: www.lynnemarshallweb.com

This book is dedicated to the smartest woman I know,

my wonderful daughter and future Nurse Practitioner,

Emily. Your beauty shines through your eyes

and brightens every room you enter.

Chapter One

JASON looked up from his desk to find big blue eyes staring at him. He’d been sailing all weekend and by Sunday, with nothing else to do for the afternoon, he’d come into the clinic to catch up on patient labs and charts rather than face being alone at home. The pint-sized human stood in his office doorway, watching him, unblinking.

“Man,” she said. She wore a jacket which had slipped from her shoulders, held in place solely by her arms through the sleeves as she pointed at him. A simple pull-on shirt that didn’t quite cover her pudgy tummy, and patterned pants in varying shades matched the bright green jacket. Corkscrew light brown curls surrounded her chubby face.

“And who might you be?” he asked, fighting off a sinking feeling as the memory of his daughter flashed in his mind.

Long slender arms swooped in and scooped up the child, who looked to be no more than two or three. Hanna had been four.

“OK, pipsqueak, I told you to stay by Momma.” She didn’t talk to the child like some parents did with high whining sounds, as if they were the favorite family pet. Her voice had a mellow, husky tone, like an actress from a classic movie. “Oh! I didn’t know anyone else was here,” she said.

He shouldn’t be here, but the ocean had turned from glassy smooth to choppy and restless, and though the sun always soothed his emptiness by heating the cold blood pulsing through his veins, nothing seemed to help today. So he’d decided to work.

“Thought I’d come in to play catch up before another crazy week of overbooking.” He stood and held out his hand. “I’m Jason Rogers, the family practice GP of this group.”

The young woman accepted his greeting. Her hand was cool and slender like the rest of her. He liked how her height almost brought her eye-to-eye with him, and how she looked at him as steadily as her daughter had.

“And I’m Claire Albright, the new Nurse Practitioner,” she said with her child slung easily across her hip. “I think I’m supposed to remedy some, if not most, of that overbooking.” She smiled just enough to show bright straight teeth. “You weren’t at the meeting when they hired me.”

“No.” He dropped her hand and scratched the back of his neck. “I leave all that business up to the others.” Phil, Jon and René had kept him emotionally afloat the last four years. In return his ample wealth had supported the clinic through its growing pains. He didn’t know where or what he’d be without his medical partners.

The woman had ash-colored blond hair with streaks, like streams of light weaved through it. She had a high forehead and soft brown brows that showcased her hazel eyes. There was strength to her nose and chin, which he liked. He looked away.

Though definitely attractive, her appearance didn’t matter. Beyond his medical practice and patients, nothing much mattered. At all.

“I’m moving in down the hall.” She seemed at a loss for what else to say. He wasn’t helping a bit by standing like an idiot with his usual blank stare. “I love this building,” she said. Her eyes shone as she mentioned the three-story cream-colored Victorian house turned medical clinic. “I used to drive by, read the MidCoast Medical Group sign, and say, ‘one day I’m going to work there’, and now I do.”

Her enthusiasm pained him. It smacked of idealism and hope—things he couldn’t remember. Jason couldn’t think of an appropriate response, and stared blankly.

He’d purchased the mansion several years back for his partners’ business venture with his wife’s encouragement. She’d loved the building, too. Back then, the optimism now glimmering in Ms. Albright’s eyes had resided in his heart.

“And this is Gina.” With a mild blush across her peach and olive-tinged skin, her smile widened, pressing dimples into her cheeks, and it almost felt contagious. But he’d given up smiling a long time ago.

The little one ducked her head into her mother’s shoulder, no longer bold. She’d no doubt realized Jason was not someone she could trust with her clear eyes and easy smiles.

“Hello, Gina. And Ms. Albright, you should be a good fit for our practice.” He recited the hollow words to keep up the façade of being human—at least half human—for the child’s sake.

Having completed his duty with a begrudging greeting, Jason sat down, sending a direct message that their introductory chat had ended. There was nothing more he could say. Not looking the least bit flustered by his blunt move, Claire nodded. The child on her hip squirmed to get down. She obliged, but held the girl by her shoulders and marched her down the hall without another word.

So the medical group had finally hired a fifth practitioner. They didn’t want to bring in another full-time doctor, but had decided an RNP would be a big help. Besides seeing the routine overflow patients, she’d be counseling the diabetics and high cholesterol clients on diet and exercise. Or so René had promised. She could also perform physicals on both adults and children, and routine PAP smears on the female clients. The others would think of more to keep her busy as time went on.

René had mentioned something about the new employee taking a more holistic approach to patient care, whatever that meant. As long as her medical advice didn’t get too out there, what did it matter to him?

Jason did have one concern about adding a fifth group member, though—what was he supposed to do with his freed up time? The clinic was as much of an escape from life as it was a means to practice his profession. If he ever caught up with his backlog, he’d be faced with dealing with the world outside. He couldn’t afford to let that happen.

“Not exactly the friendliest guy on the planet,” Claire mumbled to Gina, closing the door to her new office two doors down from Dr. Rogers. Her daughter scampered across the room, not interested.

Though overall he was good-looking, with straight brown windswept hair and strong masculine features, there was a deadness in his steel-gray eyes as if he’d had the life sucked out of him. It unsettled her. His empty gaze had sent a chill down her spine.

Jason Rogers struck Claire as a wounded soul. A fit and sexy man wearing a drab gray polo shirt and windbreaker who looked very much alive, but in his core he seemed damaged and unable to connect.

“It takes one to know one, Dr. Rogers,” she whispered. The thought of reading his obviously broken aura both intrigued and frightened her.

Her snap assessment of her new employer didn’t matter. She’d joined this medical group for the opportunity to practice a more inclusive style of medicine, not to make friends. And after the doozy of a job her ex-husband had done on her, her lagging self-esteem needed a positive boost.

They’d married young, with plans to travel the world. Shortly after their first anniversary, she’d started experiencing strange symptoms, which interfered with their plans. He’d been unforgiving, and chastised her over the next couple of years for not being strong enough when she couldn’t finish a hike or a long bike ride. When she’d taken to bed with unexplained aches and pains, he’d accused her of faking it, as if she were nothing but a hypochondriac. A year later she’d become pregnant and things between them seemed to look up, but everything changed for the worse when she was finally diagnosed.

That was all water under the bridge, as the saying went. She’d learned so much in her quest to make her life better. She credited alternative medicine for giving her life back to her, and she wanted to extend her knowledge to her future patients here at MidCoast Medical.

She’d vowed that the new job was about what was best for the patient. The total patient. For all she cared, if Dr. Rogers wanted to weave a standoffish cocoon or hang upside down in his office and spit at people, it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t give him the power to matter to her—as long as he left her alone to do her job.

Gina ran to the window and pointed to the sparkling Pacific Ocean off in the distance. “Pwetty.”

“Yes, it is.” Claire studied the resplendent view as a warm rush of excitement rippled through her. The clinic was situated in the heart of downtown Santa Barbara, a few streets over from State Street, the main boulevard. She stepped closer to the window and saw the pier through the palm trees. She’d definitely moved up in the world since, as a Nurse Practitioner, she’d also completed a degree in holistic medicine.

This was her chance to prove that medicine was evolving away from the old cut and dried methods to a more symbiotic approach connecting traditional medicine with holistic and alternative care. She treated the whole person, not just the physical aspect, but also the emotional, social and spiritual being. She’d already gained the other doctors’ trust, when she’d introduced them to the world of homeopathy during her interview. They thought she’d be a good fit for their practice.

Claire was living proof that alternative and traditional methods worked best for chronic illness. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a relapse from her Lupus, and she’d managed to keep her daily aches and pains to a minimum. As long as she kept everything in balance. She glanced in the direction of her new colleague’s office; something about Jason Rogers knocked her off kilter.

Gina tugged on her pant leg. “Hungwee.”

Claire scanned the several boxes yet to be unpacked. She grinned at the greatest gift she’d ever known. “OK. Give me a second.” Her daughter smiled up with innocent, trusting eyes. It was almost two o’clock, long past lunch time. They needed to eat. Maybe after, Gina would take a nap while Claire finished setting up her new office and attached exam room.

The Victorian mansion, complete with wraparound porch, gorgeous bay window and princess tower was big enough to house a spacious waiting room in what used to be the sitting room, while the receptionist’s office would have been the dining room, and there was still room enough for three doctors’ offices plus exam rooms on the first floor. The kitchen, pantry and laundry rooms had been turned into the doctor and nurse lounge, and the nurses’ downstairs supply and procedure room.

The second floor, where Claire’s office was, had been left to Jason and his family practice until she’d barged in. One of the bedrooms had been turned into a small waiting room for his patients, and another had become the nurses’ upstairs station plus another procedure room. The high ceilings with crown molding throughout gave a spacious feel, and the wainscoting made each room special. The third floor had been left for storage, or so Rene Munroe had said when taking Claire on her initial tour a week and a half ago. Jason’s door had been closed that day, and René hadn’t made an effort to tap on it or to say hello.

Claire needed to pinch herself to believe she’d been hired into such a prestigious and beautifully housed medical practice. But what would it be like working down the hall from the standoffish Jason Rogers?

“Hungwee!”

If only everyone on earth could communicate as directly as a two-and-a-half year old, life would be so much easier. “OK, pipsqueak, let’s go.”

Claire thought about Dr. Rogers, alone in his office, and how René hadn’t included him in the clinic tour. She wanted to make a good first impression, and decided to give him another chance. She popped her head around the corner of his door. “We’re going to the health food store up the street for some sandwiches. Can I bring you one?”

He barely glanced up. “Oh, I’m about done here. I’ll grab something on my way home. Thanks, anyway.”

OK, she got the point. Rogers wanted to be left alone, which was exactly what she’d do from here on out.

Monday morning was a blur. Claire had to get up extra early to get Gina to childcare in order to make it to the welcome breakfast René Munroe had planned at the clinic. Her muscles ached from all of the lifting, packing and unpacking she’d done yesterday, and she needed to add extra wild yam to her daily herbal cocktail to help ease the pain. So far, so good.

She rushed up the front steps of the clinic on stiff legs, across the potted plant-covered porch, through the entryway, past the reception office and into the kitchen at 7:45 a.m. Philip Hanson, the pulmonary doctor of the group, greeted her with a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice and a bowl of granola with blue-berries on top.

“Since you’re our homeopathy guru,” he said, “I didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with sticky buns or anything overindulgent.” Though in his mid-thirties, he’d retained a youthful quality, and his broad, accepting smile helped ease her first day jitters.

Jon Becker, the cardiologist, called out a greeting from a table set with china, flatware and a peach-colored cover. “Join us,” he said, as if she’d been working with them for years.

She sat next to him and reached for the cinnamon, and sprinkled some over her bowl of granola. Besides stimulating her immune system, cinnamon helped maintain a healthy cholesterol level; she never went a day without some.

Dr Becker’s salt and pepper, close-cropped hair gave him a scholarly air. On the initial tour of the clinic, René had mentioned that Dr. Becker was a long distance runner, and his wiry build and angular features proved her point.

“Good morning, Claire. You’ll have to excuse me if I’m not exactly perky today,” said René Munroe, the OB/GYN element of the practice. She was already seated across the table from Claire, with a mug of coffee in her hands. “I delivered twins last night.”

“Oh, how wonderful. Everything go OK?” Claire asked, spooning her first bite.

“The mother had planned on a natural birth, but after the first baby was born, the twin slipped into breech and I didn’t want to risk it.” She swept a thick lock of auburn hair behind her ear. “She had to go through eight hours of labor and childbirth with the first baby, only to wind up having a C-section after all that.”

“Oh, the poor thing!” Claire assumed the babies were at the local hospital, since it was the only one in town.

Though she’d known they’d planned this first day meal together, she couldn’t take her a.m. meds at home on an empty stomach, so she ate her second breakfast, not wanting to insult her new partners. They all seemed so welcoming and friendly, and she had a great feeling she’d love working here.

Philip handed her a bran muffin, still warm from the oven. “I baked them myself,” he said with a proud smile. She noticed a deep and attractive cleft in his chin. René had also informed Claire that Phil had been an award-winning surfer in his youth, and his dark tan and blond-tipped hair suggested he still enjoyed the sport.

She broke apart the muffin and let the steam rise. It smelled like pure comfort, and her mouth watered in anticipation of the first bite. If she read her tea leaves, she suspected she’d see weight gain in her future.

After taking a bite and savoring the fresh-baked flavor, she brushed some crumbs from her skirt. Today she’d worn power purple. A simple patterned wraparound dress with matching necklace and shoes to make a good first impression. She’d also worn her hair down, had even curled it for the big day. She’d been caught by Jason Rogers in crop length workout pants and matching jacket yesterday, with her hair pulled back into a low ponytail, and she’d been a bit embarrassed about her decision not to wear a stitch of make-up, when, by chance, she’d run into him. Today she’d outlined her eyes in liner and had even worn mascara and a touch of plum-colored eye-shadow.

She glanced around the room. The circa 1900-styled kitchen hadn’t changed much at all except for an updated stainless steel refrigerator, and microwave with stove combo. She smiled, thinking how the newer appliances matched the original tin ceiling. As evidenced by the dish drainer on the counter, they hadn’t installed an automatic dishwasher. She liked how they’d used a tablecloth and someone had put a small vase of fresh flowers at the center. Everything felt homey at the clinic and it seemed filled with goodwill.

Two of the nurses strolled in, followed by the receptionist, and Claire got introduced. She liked how there didn’t seem to be an invisible barrier between the doctors and nurses. They all seemed to greet each other and interact casually as they filled their coffee cups and nibbled on muffins, as though one big happy work family.

Claire was thrilled to be a part of it.

One person was conspicuously missing, though. Jason Rogers was nowhere in sight, and no one but her seemed to make note of it.

After breakfast, Claire went upstairs to prepare for her first patients. Gaby, the receptionist, had booked all the last minute add-ons who were willing to see the newest addition to the clinic, with her. Rather than make the patients wait for an appointment with their assigned doctor on another day, as they used to, this default system gave the clientele a sense of easy access to medical care. Down the hall, she noticed Jason’s door ajar, but didn’t dare walk over to say hi. He’d made it clear he wasn’t the sociable type, and being a quick study, Claire knew she wouldn’t be able to change him.

She sat behind her sturdy oak desk, adjusted her hips into the comfy leather-bound chair, and marveled at how her life had changed. A year ago her husband, Charles, had divorced her, and immediately had taken up with another woman who’d wanted little to do with children. Charles couldn’t accept that he’d married a woman with a chronic illness and after her diagnosis, as the months clicked by, he’d grown more and more distant. Other than occasional weekend visits, poor Gina had been left on the sidelines of her father’s new marriage.

Charles had let Claire know, in no uncertain terms, that he couldn’t put up with her having Lupus. She’d been the same woman he’d met, fell in love with, and married, with the addition of a new diagnosis, but he couldn’t understand that. She’d become imperfect to him, and he couldn’t accept it. He’d made her feel guilty for getting sick, and ugly, when he’d look at her with disdain when her Lupus rash flared.

He was a successful businessman who insisted on a healthy partner to join him on adventures and extensive travel, and the once-loving man had shut down and turned away. Just like that. As if it was all her fault.

The pre-nuptial agreement left Claire with nothing beyond modest alimony and monthly child support payments. She knew Charles would come through in an emergency, but refused to depend on him for anything else. His not accepting her chronic illness had shattered her trust in both love and men, and she’d vowed to move on with her life—alone.

She’d recently had a stretch of good health and, with the new job, good fortune. As far as she was concerned, her past was just that. Over. And, with time, she hoped to get over the emotional damage, too.

Claire stood and moved to the window. She lifted the sash to allow fresh air inside and, gazing across rooftops, trees, and eventually toward the huge blue sea, she couldn’t help thinking that her luck had finally turned.

By early afternoon, Claire had seen a dozen patients and was getting into the routine of the clinic’s patient flow. Twenty-minute appointments were generous compared with the hospital where she used to be affiliated, which allowed only half that.

She read her next patient’s records on her computer, and heard footsteps down the hall, then a looming shadow covered her desk and Jason appeared. His mouth was in a straight line, and his eyes squinted tensely. He looked perturbed, to put it mildly.

“A back rub? That’s what you recommended to Ruth Crandall to add to her medical regimen?” he asked.

Claire had seen so many patients already, she had to stop and think who he’d referred to. The woman battling depression.

“Well, I noticed she’d had her antidepressant increased at her last visit and her general complaints were unchanged. I thought we’d try something different.”

“A massage?” He lifted a brow and handed the phone message toward her.

Claire read. Mrs. Crandall had called to tell him, after her visit that morning, what a great idea it had been to add daily massages to her routine, and how much she’d enjoyed meeting the new Nurse Practitioner. Under usual circumstances, a message such as this would be considered high praise, worthy of a pat on the back or handshake for a job well done. Evidently Jason Rogers didn’t see it that way. His irritated attitude put her on defensive.

“Daily massages are invaluable for depression,” she said. “They help relieve the aches and pains, and increase the release of endorphins for a sense of heightened well-being. There is healing power with touch.”

“Is that so?”

Claire stood. “It’s a perfectly good alternative to increased drug therapy. Wouldn’t you agree that it isn’t all about ‘find and fix’ anymore in medicine?” She waited for a response, but he just stood there with a steely glare. “Sometimes medical professionals need to integrate all avenues of health care for best results.”

“You may have a point, but I’ve never once considered a massage as health care.” He paced toward her framed credentials hanging on the wall. “Next you’ll be prescribing aromatherapy, I presume.”

She made a sly smile, and he caught her. “Maybe I will.” Their eyes met for the briefest of moments, and paused. He’d obviously come to reprimand her, but nothing in this lingering gaze could prove it. He investigated her face and she felt suddenly self-conscious. She fought off the urge to pat her hair, wondered if her lipstick had smeared. “I’ve studied alternative medicine, and I believe there is much to be said for balancing the systems. After interviewing Mrs. Crandall, I identified her as a specific constitutional type who would benefit from massage.” And, speaking of constitutional types, you’d be classified as uptight!

“She lost her husband last year,” he said. “She’s grieving and depressed. My job is to get her through this rough patch with the medicine available and a grief support group, not to send her to a spa to waste her money for a superficial beauty treatment.” He leaned his knuckles on her desk and stared deeper into her eyes.

Claire refused to back away. “The power of touch is hugely beneficial for depression,” she said, staring back. “Have you ever tried it?” His left eye twitched. “I didn’t tell Mrs. Crandall to stop the medications you’ve prescribed.”

Jason eased back, no longer on the attack. “This isn’t how we practice medicine here, Ms. Albright.”

“You told her to get exercise. What’s the difference if I suggest massage? And the only complaint I see in this phone message—” she waved the message in the air “—is your interpretation of it. I’d say she was thoroughly happy about her visit today.”

“That’s not the point,” he said.

He seemed a bit unsure and she couldn’t help playing with him. “So one of our goals isn’t to make our patients happier?”

He tossed her an exasperated glance. “Just do me a favor and consult me first, Ms. Albright.”

She had the urge to say Aye-aye, Cap ‘n but noticed his glare had softened, and the tension around his eyes had disappeared. He really wasn’t comfortable interacting with people. Or was it just with her? Wanting desperately to make amends for any hard feelings, Claire smiled. “OK. But would you do me a favor and call me Claire?”

He glanced at her one last time, nodded in a stiff business fashion, and left the room.

Claire sat down and tossed her pen on the desk. She hadn’t given the woman a list of herbs to run out and buy, or asked her to ignore her medicine. She’d merely suggested that daily massage might help her through her depression. And the patient had been very receptive to the idea, enough to send a complimentary message about her add-on appointment to her regular doctor.

Why did Jason Rogers have to be such a wet rag about it?

She ran her hands through her hair and thought about the man who’d left her completely confused. She didn’t know his history, but would bet her first pay check that something awful had happened to him. Maybe he was one of those people who felt entitled to happiness and things hadn’t panned out, so he’d turned bitter. Whatever the reason, on a whim, she decided to go out of her way to be nice to him. Just to bug him.

When her first day at the clinic was over, Claire gathered her belongings, and prepared to leave. In the future, she’d be careful when counseling Dr. Rogers’s patients. One nasty run-in with him was enough.

Her eyes got big with the thought. She hoped Jenny Whatley, the university student, didn’t tell Dr. Rogers about what she’d suggested for her daily eyestrain headaches.

Not one second later, as she shut down her computer, Jason came barreling into her office.

Claire set her jaw and straightened her spine.

“What the hell is natrum muriaticum, and why did you suggest it to my patient?”

“You’ve been reading my patient progress notes, I see.” She tamped down her brewing anger over the fact he’d been checking up on her, and walked around her desk. She dared to look into his eyes and received a cold dull stare as her reward. This was nothing like the more reasonable man from earlier today. “It is commonly known as table salt and salt tablets are best used for chronic ailments.”

“Such as…”

“Such as daily headaches from eyestrain and tension. Jenny Whatley has been complaining to you about her headaches for over a year. She has all the classic traits of someone out of balance. Her complexion is pale and waxy. She looks emaciated and has cracks at the corners of her mouth. She’s anxious, irritable and stressed out. And she gets throbbing headaches everyday at the exact same time.”

“For which I have checked every possible condition and come up without a reason,” he said.

Oh, the old take two aspirin and call me in the morning approach, I see. She couldn’t help the snide thought. Jason Rogers seemed to draw the worst out of her. “But you haven’t solved her problem.”

“She has tension headaches. What does table salt have to do with any of that?” he said.

“It can regulate and balance the body fluids.”

He gave her an incredulous look.

In defense, she glared back. “I made sure she doesn’t have any counter indications for taking these tablets. Her labs checked out and so did the physical exam. We agreed she’d try them for a month. And she’ll call immediately if there are any adverse reactions, which I went over thoroughly with her, and which I predict won’t happen.”

“You don’t belong in this clinic. We are a reputable medical clinic, not some hocus-pocus guesswork group. If you want to prescribe table salt to patients, then set up a stand at your local health food store.”

Stung by his insult, she crossed her arms. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me.”

René appeared at the doorway. “Is there a problem?”

“She’s a quack,” he said.

“And he’s a closed-minded medical robot!”

Chapter Two

“HOLD on. Hold on.” René stepped between Jason and Claire in the cramped office.

Claire couldn’t believe her loss of control. His insult felt like a slap in the face and she’d retaliated without thinking. How had he gotten under her skin so easily?

“I don’t think she’s a good fit for our practice,” Jason said.

Claire’s heart sunk to her knees. She needed this job. Her ex-husband’s nominal child support payments barely covered the cost of pre-school and child care. As it was, she could only afford to rent the maid’s quarters in a seen-better-days mansion in Montecito. She needed to provide a life for the two of them. She had to make this job work.

“If I’ve stepped over the bounds, then I’m sorry,” Claire said, scrambling to make things right.

Jason’s glare softened. Had he heard the desperation in her voice?

“I’m sure we can work something out here,” René said.

“I thought we hired a Nurse Practitioner. Now I’ve come to find out we’ve got our very own faith healer.”

“I will not stand here and allow you to insult me like that!” Heat burned on her cheeks. She’d meant to keep quiet, but his words cut to her insecure core, and she needed to stick up for herself. No one would be allowed to walk all over her ever again.

“Then I suggest you leave,” he said with a glaciercold stare.

Don’t back down. Even though my livelihood is at stake, he cannot be allowed to talk to me as if I don’t matter!

“I deserve just as much respect as you do, Dr. Rogers.”

“Hold on, you guys,” René interjected, her gaze jumping wildly from Jason and back to Claire. “We can work this out civilly.”

Jason shoved his hands in his doctor’s coat and punched his tongue into the side of his cheek. He glanced at her desk, and the framed picture of Gina. “Only because she has a daughter to support am I willing to let her stay.”

Who the heck did this guy think he was? The Emperor? Well, how kind of you, sir, and I shall be forever grateful. Not! “There are three other doctors in this practice who agreed to hire me. If you want to kick me out, I suggest you take a vote.” With fear quivering her insides, Claire worried she’d pushed things too far. She fought to cover up her apprehension by widening her stance and leaning slightly forward.

Jason also leaned closer, and his glare delved into her eyes.

Why did she feel transported back to grammar school and smack in the middle of a sand box dispute? Back when boys and girls didn’t know how to show they liked someone so they pretended to hate them. And why, upon looking closer into his eyes, did Jason Rogers appear to be enjoying himself?

“Hold on!” René said. “We don’t need to take a vote. We can work this out like adults.”

Claire wasn’t sure what had clicked in Jason’s mind, but his puffed up chest deflated infinitesimally and he stepped back.

“Look,” he said. “I know with the economy the way it is, no one wants to lose a job.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I’d appreciate it if you’d leave my patients alone. That’s all. You can pick up the overflow for René, Philip and Jon. If you agree to that, I’ll call a truce.”

Claire glanced at René, who wore an earnest expression, as if encouraging her to take the deal. Accepting his offer for a truce seemed like the sane thing to do. Anything seemed better than standing around arguing with the obstinate and unlikable Jason Rogers. On her first day at work, no less!

If he wanted her to leave his patients alone, she’d be glad to comply. And once she was given the chance to get solid results with the other doctors’ clients, maybe he’d come around to trusting her with his patients. And, if he asked nicely, she’d reconsider screening them for him.

She offered her hand, and he took it. The angry electricity that had jumped between them only moments before was still there. His palm was hot. And calloused, which surprised her. He stared intently into her eyes, and she almost needed to take a step back…but refused. There was something in his gaze that she hadn’t detected before and, coupled with holding his hand, it knocked her a bit off balance.

“Truce,” she said.

He nodded, dropped her hand and stepped away. After a brief glance in René’s direction, he said, “Sorry to drag you into this.” Then he went back to his office.

René stepped inside Claire’s office and closed the door. “He’s never offensive like that,” she whispered. “He’s sullen and moody, but never like that. I swear.”

Claire studied her open-toed shoes, trying her best to figure out what had just happened. “I’m sorry. I am so sorry. I’m never like this, either. Please don’t hold this against me.”

“Not at all.” René cupped Claire’s arms. “We want you here. We’re glad to have you. You’ve got to understand that Jason, well…” She hesitated, as if she didn’t know how much to disclose about the man.

Who knew what his problem was? Perhaps he’d been through a rotten divorce like she had, and he held a grudge toward women the same way she did toward men. Maybe they had more in common than either would like to admit.

“Jason,” René continued, brushing her hair behind her shoulder, “how should I put it…he leads a lonely life, and sometimes he forgets how to treat people. His patients love him, though, and he’s an incredibly good doctor. Just give him time.”

“It’s apparent that he cares about his patients, I just wish he’d be a bit nicer to me. Hey, I’m a tough girl. I’ll live with this set-up. You know how much I want this to work out.”

“Good, because he essentially owns the building and practice.”

Claire’s throat dried up. Of all the people to pick a fight with. She needed to sit down. “I promise this will never happen again.”

René nodded and offered a reassuring smile. “Now, did I hear right—this was about table salt?”

Jason paced his office, exhilarated. A sensation he hadn’t experienced in a while. All because of an argument with Claire Albright? Albright—hah! She couldn’t have a more appropriate surname. Whenever she entered a room it brightened. She didn’t need to wear that becoming purple dress to make a lasting impression. All she had to do was smile. He remembered how taken aback he’d been when she’d smiled and introduced herself to him yesterday. He’d thought about her smile once or twice last night when he’d dined alone in his big and empty condo.

So why did he feel compelled to chew off her head? Because she dared to approach his only remaining thread to life, his sacred craft of medicine, differently. Table salt and massages—what a bunch of bunk. Just the thought of it rankled him all over again.

But there was something more to his reaction. She made him “feel” things. He’d stared into her eyes and felt his heartbeat pound in his neck when he’d argued with her. He’d been hot-tempered about what he’d said because it related to his patients and medical practice, the only thing left he cared about, and she’d thrown the passion right back in his face.

And she smelled like cinnamon, which did crazy things to his line of thinking. He dug his fingers into his hair.

Damn. The strangest notion overtook him. It made him pace.

After four years in limbo, he almost felt alive.

He came to a dead stop.

He’d soon put an end to that “feeling” business, by avoiding her at every turn.

The next morning, Claire entered her office before Jason had arrived. She needed to work up the courage to consult him about a plan to help the waiting room patients relax. They’d gotten off on the wrong foot, and here she was with another plan, but she couldn’t back down. It had come to her in the middle of the night; something he’d said in a snide way about “next you’ll start aromatherapy” must have planted the idea in her subconscious. He’d absolutely hate it, but if her trial run worked out in the upstairs waiting room, she planned to suggest they try aromatherapy in the larger downstairs waiting room, too.

If Jason owned the building, and he didn’t like her or her ideas, he could get rid of her without consulting the other partners. Though she hoped and prayed he wasn’t anywhere near as big an ogre as she’d imagined.

Mid-morning Claire saw Jason escort an older woman past her office door. His arm was on her shoulder, and he wore a concerned expression. “Mrs. Lewis, I’m sending you to the best surgeon in Santa Barbara. We caught the lump early…”

This from the grumpiest guy she’d ever met? Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all, and perhaps now was the perfect time to approach him.

She stood at her desk and waited for him to return. Her aromatherapy blend of lavender and ylang-ylang had been on the warmer all morning.

She used her hands to push the scent out her door, then rolled her eyes. This really was nuts—the markings of a desperate woman. The two things she needed to do to make him happy were to stay out of his way, and take care of every patient to the best of her abilities. But helping his outlook along with a little relaxing aromatherapy couldn’t hurt, could it? Without his knowing, she might successfully change his sour mood and lift his spirits under the guise of helping their patients. And if it didn’t work, no harm would be done.

She heard footsteps coming up the stairs and scrambled to her desk.

Jason slowed and hesitated outside her door. He turned his head and mumbled, “Morning.”

Better late than never. Her mouth almost dropped open. Was he trying to be friendly?

“Good morning!” she said.

“What’s that smell?” he asked.

Here was her chance. She popped up from her desk chair. “I was going to wait for you to get settled in and then tell…I mean ask you about this idea I got after we had our…uh…discussion yesterday. I mean last night. It came to me last night. The idea…I mean…

“You’re babbling, Claire. Get on with it.”

OK, so he wasn’t trying to be friendly, and she was babbling. At least he’d called her Claire.

“You’ve heard of white coat syndrome, right?”

“Of course.” In his favor, he didn’t look impatient.

“I was thinking about helping our patients relax while they’re in the waiting room before their appointments by using a couple of essential oils that are known to calm people down. Would that be OK with you?”

He gave her the most curious look, as if she might be from an alien planet, but to her surprise he nodded his approval, then walked to his door and shut it soundly. She could have sworn she heard him mumble, “Whatever.”

Claire ran behind on her morning appointments, and finished entering her last progress notes into the computer at quarter to one. She hustled down the stairs and into the kitchen to find it empty, except for Jason Rogers heating something in the microwave. She almost turned around and headed out the door, but he lifted his head, glanced at her and nodded.

Jason used a tissue to wipe his nose while he waited for his lunch to warm. “I needed to get out of my office. My eyes have been bothering me all morning, and now my nose is stuffed up.”

The lavender and ylang-ylang? Claire widened her eyes, but caught herself from reacting too obviously. “Spring is just around the corner. Are you allergic to pollens?”

“Not that I know of.” The microwave dinged and he reached for his lunch.

OK, so they proved they could have a semi-civil conversation.

Great idea, Albright. Instead of making him relax with aromatherapy, you gave him a headache and a stuffed-up nose. Maybe she should add some rosemary drops to the mix to help with decongestion.

She left the kitchen and ran up the stairs to turn off the aromatherapy diffuser in the waiting room. Maybe she’d overdone it, but none of her patients had complained. In fact, a couple of them had lower than usual blood pressures during their appointments that morning. She’d definitely add the rosemary drops tomorrow. Maybe his reaction had nothing to do with the aromatherapy.

She returned to the kitchen just as Jason was exiting. He glanced briefly at her when he passed, but didn’t say another word. Could he have thought she was avoiding him when she’d run out of the room so quickly? And, just when they’d made a mini step toward progress, too. She wanted to throw up her hands. Instead of easing the tension between them, she’d succeeded in irritating his nose and giving him the impression she couldn’t stand being in the same room with him.

Things were not going well.

Two of the nurses had arrived back from picking up takeout food, and sat chatting happily at the table. She nodded to them and pointed to the back door.

“It’s so lovely out today. I think I’ll eat in the garden.”

One of the nice extras about having a Victorian mansion as a medical building was the well kept back yard and garden, complete with arbor, gazing globe, and fairy statues. English and painted daisies, camellias, bleeding hearts and crocus in pinks, whites and purples, and many other perennial spring flowers she didn’t have a clue about, were so pleasing to her eyes in the garden, she couldn’t resist eating outdoors. And though it was sunny and warm today, and she needed to avoid the sun because of her Lupus, the yard provided a huge ash tree for shade and a convenient bench beneath it.

She sat and inhaled to help her relax. Maybe she should have set up the ylang-ylang and lavender for herself. She rolled her shoulders and watched a couple of robins hopping around the verdant grass in search of food as she unwound. High in the tree, other birds called their greetings to one another and rustled the leaves as they flapped away into the sky.

This was the place she needed to be at this exact moment in her life. In this garden. At this medical clinic. She’d do anything she could to keep her job, even if it meant putting up with Jason Rogers. She took a bite of her grilled veggies and hummus sandwich and chewed contentedly…until…she noticed the bee.

Back in his office, Jason needed to consult his drug formulary and went to his bookcase to retrieve it. From his upstairs window he noticed Claire on the bench in the garden eating her lunch.

She’d worn a sunflower-yellow dress today, and had taken off her lab coat before she’d taken her lunch break. And she’d worn her hair down again. He liked how it settled on her shoulders in waves. For someone who took herself so seriously, she certainly dressed in fanciful colors. Purple yesterday, bright yellow today. It said something about her, he didn’t have a clue what, yet he found it curiously appealing and he felt drawn to her lively spirit. That disturbed him, made the hair on his neck stand on end.

He glanced at the picture of Jessica and Hanna on his bookcase that he kept out of view of others. Mother and child posed perfectly for the camera on one of their many vacations…so many years ago. God, he missed them. Was he being unfaithful to Jessica’s memory by feeling a distant attraction to this new woman?

It wasn’t purely about Claire being a good-looking woman, or the fact that it had been ages since he’d been intimate with anyone. No. And he definitely wasn’t looking for anyone to become involved with. But Claire had guts and had stood up to him when he’d used his bully pulpit yesterday to call her out for trying new treatments. He respected her for standing up for what she believed in, no matter how off the mark she’d been. Table salt. Hah.

But really, what harm could a massage do to a depressed person? Had it been necessary for him to take such offense? First and foremost in the Hippocratic Oath he’d taken when he’d become a doctor was—Do No Harm. And Mrs. Crandall had sounded so hopeful in her message.

What did he know about hope anymore?

He shook his head, replaced the photograph on the shelf, and watched Claire as she bit into her sandwich.

Suddenly, she sprung up and her sandwich went flying as she jogged around in a circle flailing her arms. She flung her head around and frantically used her hands to brush her hair away. Over and over. With a contorted face, she danced in spasms and bent over, shaking her head, and swiped through her hair as if it were on fire. Again and again.

At first he was alarmed that something was terribly wrong. He started for the door, hesitated, then glanced back out the window. She wasn’t calling for help. As she continued to gyrate and swat at the air, her fitful dance became…entertaining. Had something flown into her hair? If she gave one sign of being injured, he’d be down the stairs quicker than a three-star alarm. Until then, he’d watch from his prime position.

She stopped just as suddenly as she’d started. She smoothed the skirt of her dress and patted down her hair, then glanced around, as if to check if anyone had seen her.

A smile stretched across Jason’s face as he observed a new side of Claire. A humbled, slightly embarrassed side.

Next he heard an unfamiliar noise. The sound of laughter. His laughter rumbling all the way up from his gut. It sounded like a foreign language, and he almost looked over his shoulder to see if someone else was making it.

After he turned his back, as he replayed in his mind Claire freaking out and jumping around swatting at her hair, he continued to laugh, a solid belly laugh. Why had the incident struck him so funny? Because it was so out of character for the woman. He really shouldn’t be laughing at someone getting caught in a compromising situation. That was unkind, he thought as he wiped away tears from laughing so hard. She could have gotten stung by a bee and that would have hurt like hell. Though she’d shown no evidence of that. No, he shouldn’t laugh.

Definitely no laughing.

He turned around again. She sat back down on the bench and ate the other half of her sandwich, after she’d retrieved the first half and tossed it in the trash. She glanced around a second time, no doubt hoping no one had seen her antics. She was obviously unharmed, except for maybe her pride.

And the replay of her dance in his mind made him laugh again. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

A few minutes later, he sat back at his desk, still grinning.

How odd it felt.

The next morning, Jason stopped at Claire’s office door with an impish look on his face. It made her pause. He cleared his throat.

“I brought you something,” he said. He reached into the sack he carried and withdrew a safari hat complete with a veil made of netting and handed it to her.

“What’s this?” She stared at the object she’d only ever seen in the movies before.

“In case you decide to eat outside today,” he said, one side of his mouth ticking into a smile.

The blush started at her neck and promptly rose up her cheeks. “You saw me?”

He nodded and grinned, a bright flash in his eyes.

“The whole thing?”

“As a physician, I needed to make sure you weren’t injured or anything.”

She covered her eyes and grimaced. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be.” He looked uncomfortable, his teasing stance having vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “Please.” They shared a gaze, and she instinctively knew he’d meant no harm. “I’ve botched things up, I see.” He scratched the side of his mouth. “I guess I’m out of practice.”

“No,” she said, lifting the hat even as her cheeks heated to what she assumed to be bright red. “This is very funny. Really.”

On an awkward note, he tipped his head and went to his office.

Claire had to give him credit for trying to act like a regular person instead of a recluse. In fact it touched her. She collapsed into her chair and continued blushing for a few more moments, but decided her embarrassment was worth it to see Jason Rogers’s gorgeous smile.

And, to remind her he had a sense of humor, she hung the beekeeper’s hat on the antique coat rack in the corner of her office.

The next day, to her surprise, Jason personally escorted one of his patients to her New Diabetic Class.

“This is Leona Willis,” he said, assisting the middleaged lady to sit. “I think she can use a refresher course on diabetic care.”

This was a change. Jason had specifically told Claire to keep away from his patients, and here he was delivering one to her. She smiled at the new student, and then at Jason, and felt a mild blush dance across her cheeks, which seemed far too much like it was becoming a routine. He seemed to hesitate before walking backwards to the door with an odd expression in his eyes. It made her pause to remember what she’d been talking about. “Where were we?” she asked the class.

“The importance of eating several small meals a day,” one craggy old gent replied.

Claire nodded and, instead of concentrating on the subject, took one brief moment to ponder the fact that Jason seemed to be reaching out to her as one professional to another. The thought buoyed her spirit and set the tone for the rest of her day.

One week of truce with Jason had made working at the MidCoast Medical Center so much more bearable for Claire, yet she was still antsy about her first administrative board meeting. Jason couldn’t have chosen a worse night. Monday was the one night this week her childcare provider couldn’t keep Gina past six p.m. And the meeting was scheduled for six-thirty.

René had arranged for dinner to be delivered, but Claire brought a special kiddie meal for Gina at the local organic market. She tried to set it up as a “treat”, telling her how she’d get to have her very own picnic while the grown-ups had their meeting. Gina didn’t seem too impressed. Running a bit late, Claire gritted her teeth and pushed through the clinic’s kitchen door with her daughter toddling beside her.

The others, Phil, Jon, René and Jason, were already seated and passing around their individual reports.

“I’m so sorry to have to bring Gina tonight.” She glanced around the room for sympathy and understanding and found it with everyone except Jason, who’d made a merely tolerable glance her way. “Babysitter problems,” she said.

Claire situated Gina in the corner with a few books and small toys, then opened and served her dinner after washing the child’s hands with disposable wipes. “Be a good girl for Mommy, OK?” She tried not to plead but, depending on Gina’s mood, her personality could range from introspective to gregarious, and there was usually no warning which way the wind would blow.

As the meeting went on, Claire got a glimpse at how the clinic ran through spending reports from Jason, trends in ailments from Jon, recommendations on being more efficient from René, and meeting the Occupational Health and Safety standards for clinic care from Phil. Just as Claire prepared to give her report, Gina decided she’d had enough self-entertainment.

She brought her favorite book and plopped it on the table next to Claire. “Read me,” she said.

“Mommy can’t right now. I have to work.”

Instead of fretting, Gina picked up the book and went back to her assigned corner.

Claire took a deep breath and prayed she’d stay there.

“OK,” Claire said. “Rene asked me to talk a bit about CAM-complementary/alternative medicine—and its prevalence of use amongst our client population. My statistics show that thirty to forty percent of the general population is using or has used some form of herbal compound in the past year.”

Gina stood and opened her book. “Thnow White and the theven dorfs,” she recited aloud to the wall.

René and Phil tried not to snicker.

Claire swallowed and continued. “I feel it is very important to identify which of our patients are using these herbal medications. Many patients think of them as dietary supplements or natural health products, not medicine.”

“Onth upon a time,” Gina recited as she paced back and forth in a similar fashion as her mother, pretending to read from the page. “A printhess had to run away from her meanie tep-mommy.” She turned the page with great flair.

“Gina, honey, can you wait until later to read your book out loud?”

“Can she read already?” Jon asked.

Not wanting to pop Gina’s bubble, Claire shook her head surreptitiously and mouthed no. “She’s working on it,” she said, with sing-song optimism for Gina to hear. “Wait until later, OK, honey?”

The child turned to the wall and continued to “read” the story in a whisper.

Phil grinned, and René mouthed “aw”. Claire nervously glanced at Jason and, instead of finding a scowl, she noticed one corner of his mouth edged up into an almost-grin.

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated to everyone.

“Not a problem,” Jon said. “Continue with your report.”

She raised her voice and rushed through her carefully planned presentation, hoping her daughter wouldn’t make any more disruptions. Claire had run down the list of herbal compounds most frequently used, and had offered her theory why patients failed to report the medication to their care providers, when Gina grew louder.

“Who is the faw-wist of them all!”

Even Jason snorted a laugh this time. He stood, and Claire figured she’d never get her chance to propose her clinic-wide survey. But, instead of suggesting the meeting be adjourned, he walked over to Gina and crouched beside her. Claire blinked, thinking she was imagining things.

“Hey, squirt, I’ll make you a deal,” he said. “I’ll read that book to you if you’ll sit quietly for just a few more minutes. What do you say?”

Amazingly, Gina didn’t cower or get embarrassed, as she so easily did with her father when he reprimanded her. “’Kay.”

Jason nodded, stood and went back to his seat. Gina followed him, something he obviously hadn’t planned on. Surprise widened his eyes when she brought the book to the table and crawled up into his lap. Without saying a word, he helped her get settled and, when Gina was sufficiently at ease, he nodded to Claire to continue as if a minor miracle hadn’t just occurred.

Claire cleared her throat and said, “I would like to conduct a clinic-wide survey of our patients to find out who is taking which herbs. If you’ll look at the handout, you’ll see I’ve named the ten most widely used herbal supplements and identified the potential drug interactions, some of which can be life-threatening. I believe it is imperative that we know every pill our patients are taking.”

The group of doctors seemed impressed with Claire’s suggestions, and began a lively discussion of how to go about surveying their entire patient population. Claire noticed that Jason lightly stroked Gina’s curls as he read each handout.

The man had never looked more natural. Or relaxed.

His unconscious gesture did wonders for Gina, too. The child had fallen asleep.

Fifteen minutes later, the meeting came to an end. After gathering all the reports and putting them into her briefcase, Claire glanced at Jason. She caught him studying Gina’s slack mouth with a melancholy gaze. It made her chest squeeze.

He was a father. She knew it. But where was his family?

She leaned over to retrieve her daughter. ‘Thank you,” she mouthed.

“No problem,” he said with a muted voice. But the torn look on his face contradicted his words. Somehow she knew holding her daughter hadn’t been easy for him, and she instinctively knew she owed him a huge favor.

When Claire picked up Gina, she automatically woke up. “Man read,” she said, rubbing her eyes and kicking her feet. Oh, not now. Please don’t throw a fit, child.

Claire glanced at Jason, who had a soft but distant look in his eyes.

“I did make her a promise,” he said, lifting the storybook.

Relieved, Claire delivered Gina back to his lap and the child settled in immediately, ready for her story. As though he’d read a million children’s books, Jason began. “Once upon a time…”

As Jason read to Gina, Claire helped René gather up the take-out cartons and wash the flatware. She caught Rene’s marveling glance, then nodded in agreement when she mouthed “wow”. She kept busy, collected Gina’s toys and books and carried everything to her car. She was on her way back into the clinic when Jason met her halfway down the walk. He carried Gina down the steps and hoisted her into her car seat expertly.

“Thank you so much, Dr. Rogers,” Claire said.

“Call me Jason, will you?”

A look passed between them that said so much more than “truce”. For the first time since she’d been working in the new job, Claire felt she belonged. And Jason had shown the first signs of crawling out of his cave.

Jason watched Claire and Gina drive off. The wrenching pain in his chest made it hard to breathe. He’d paid a price for holding that child. Memories of cuddling Hanna had been dredged up from their carefully fortified cave: the softness of her hair, the perfection of her complexion.

He couldn’t go on like this.

He clenched his jaw and watched the taillights turn the corner. He wanted to hit something. To take a sledgehammer and bash to smithereens the tomb that kept his daughter and wife from him.

That woman and her child had gotten under his skin, had forced him to feel things—things he never wanted to experience again. Feelings he couldn’t bear.

The damp night air enveloped him as he bit his lip and paced against the torment.

Chapter Three

TUESDAY morning, Claire passed the mock-up version of the patient herbal survey to Phil Hanson as he sat in his office. She’d stayed up past midnight putting it together. Aside from his medical school and specialty certificates framed on the walls, there were several surfing trophies and photographs of him with his board. His laid back attitude often carried over into his clothes, and today he wore a Hawaiian patterned tie with a pale blue denim shirt.

“Looks good,” he said. His thick wavy hair appeared to only have been finger combed, yet he still managed to pull off a charming air. She wondered why he wasn’t married, then remembered René had commented he was a happy and confirmed bachelor.

“What looks good?” Jason’s deep voice came from over her shoulder.

It almost made her jump. She turned and found she was the closest she’d ever been to him, but the doorframe kept her from stepping back. His face was freshly shaven and he smelled of sandalwood and citrus, which tickled her senses. Though his hair was neatly trimmed, the longer top part had fallen across his forehead. She fought the urge to sweep it aside. Up close, his gray eyes had tiny flecks of blue in them, and they looked kinder than she’d thought. Or maybe that was because she’d seen him in a new light last night. After he’d read to Gina, her daughter had talked about him the entire ride home, until she’d fallen asleep.

“Well?” Jason said.

“Oh. The herbal survey. Here’s a copy for your approval,” she said, handing the pages to him.

He avoided her gaze, studying the paper instead. In contrast to Phil, his stiff collared white shirt hugged his tanned neck, and he’d made a perfect knot with his drab tie. Someone needed to brighten this guy’s wardrobe up, but it wouldn’t be her.

After her disastrous marriage, she wanted nothing to do with men. In her time of greatest need, she’d been kicked to the curb by her husband. Hadn’t the wedding vows said “In sickness and in health”?

“Looks good to me, too.” Jason handed the survey back and continued down the hall and up the stairs. His dark gray, perfectly tailored silk suit molded well to his broad shoulders and narrow waist.

Phil cleared his throat. Claire snapped back to the task at hand, and retrieved the survey from the doctor. He had a funny look in his eyes, as if he’d caught Claire ogling Dr. Rogers, which may have been the case but she hadn’t meant to be so obvious. Her cheeks heated up and she made a quick getaway.

In a room of men, most women would notice Phil Hanson first, with his striking good looks and surfer boy features. But Dr. Rogers had a subtle solid handsomeness that caused her eyes to linger. After swearing off the entire gender, she wondered why she was suddenly comparing the men she worked with.

Claire shook her head, and strode to the receptionist’s desk for the list of patient addresses.

“We’ll need eight thousand surveys to go out,” Gaby, the receptionist, said.

“Wow, this is a bigger practice than I thought.” Drs. Munroe and Becker had already approved the survey. Now she had Phil and Jason’s blessing, too, so it was just a matter of mailing it.