JOE COLTON’S JOURNAL

I’ve always loved my niece, Liza, like a daughter. A beautiful and talented singer, Liza was groomed from childhood by my pushy sister-in-law to be a star. Now, I never understood why my younger brother, Graham, married an ice princess like Cynthia in the first place…. Over the years, Liza has bent over backward to win her mother’s love—yet to no avail. Still, Liza has always known that she has a safe haven with Meredith and me in Prosperino whenever she needs it. Unfortunately, it looks like the strain of the disappearance of her beloved foster cousin Emily, and her stressful nationwide tour have finally taken their toll on her. Funny how Liza seems much less distraught about losing her voice than her mother is. One might even say Liza’s relieved to be out of the spotlight. Hmm…maybe her new outlook on life has something to do with that compassionate specialist, Dr. Nick Hathaway, who has taken on her case. From what I hear, the dashing doc is working miracles on my niece’s aching heart!

About the Author

JUDY CHRISTENBERRY

has never been enthralled with a doctor until Dr. Nick Hathaway became a part of her world. But she’s perfectly content for him to fall for Liza Colton. After all, the beautiful singer resembles Audrey Hepburn, Judy’s favorite actress. So, writing their story for the incredible series THE COLTONS has been a particular pleasure. Their sprawling family has variety for everyone. This bestselling author always loves the happy endings for both her and her characters. She hopes you do, too.

The Doctor Delivers
Judy Christenberry

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Meet the Coltons—

a California dynasty with a legacy of privilege and power.

Liza Colton: The dynasty’s diva. During a national tour that could fulfill her parents’ ambitions, this up-and-coming starlet suddenly has a change of heart. Could it have something to do with her handsome doctor’s bedside manner?

Nick Hathaway: A family man. His marriage to a self-absorbed blue blood had been a bitter pill for this doctor to swallow. And though he was strongly attracted to his celebrity patient, he had no doubt that she was cut from the same piece of silk. Even if her warmhearted actions seemed to prove just the opposite!

Meredith “Patsy” Colton: A dangerous bedfellow. Frustrated at her attempts to find her sibling and to kill that “bothersome” Emily Blair, Joe Colton’s impostor wife has just stepped up her campaign….

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

One

“Doctor, you’ll never guess who’s here to see you!”

Liza Colton’s head snapped up. Her glance around the room confirmed that she was still alone in the examination room, waiting for the busy doctor’s attention. Her gaze focused on the door, realizing it wasn’t quite closed.

“Missy, I don’t have time for guessing games.” The deep voice had an interesting, intriguing timbre that fascinated Liza. She wondered if his appearance could possibly match his voice. Not that it mattered, really.

“But it’s the latest diva!” the invisible nurse gushed.

Liza stiffened.

“Diva?”

As if the nurse thought he didn’t understand the word, she said, “You know, that’s what they call Streisand, Céline Dion, Mariah Carey—”

“I know what the word means, Missy,” the male voice asserted. “I’m just surprised, though. What diva would be here in Saratoga Springs?” But there wasn’t an ounce of interest in his voice.

“Liza Colton! I saw her two nights ago. She’s the latest diva. Well, she will be. She’s not quite there yet. But she was fabulous! Why, she got a standing ovation at the end. Everyone just kept on clapping.”

Liza smiled. It had been a gratifying moment. And she hadn’t had too many of those lately.

“The beer sales must’ve been brisk,” he said dryly. “Why is she here?”

“It’s tragic! She can barely speak.”

“After performing two nights ago?”

“And last night, too. And she’s got another performance tonight.” There was a brief pause, and Liza thought maybe they’d moved away. Which suited her just fine. The man obviously didn’t appreciate music or have much regard for her talents.

“Oh, Doctor,” the nurse, who’d shown her into the examining room, pleaded, her overwrought tones making Liza roll her eyes, “you just have to save her!”

“Let’s don’t get carried away, Missy. I’m an ear, nose and throat specialist, not a heart surgeon.”

Well, unlike most doctors, at least he didn’t have an inflated view of himself. Liza decided maybe she could forgive him for his earlier remarks.

Then the door opened.

She was skilled at cloaking her emotions—good thing—but she’d never been bowled over by a man’s looks before.

He was gorgeous. Not picture perfect, like the models or actors who tried to impress her. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but he had…substance. That was the word she was searching for. Gorgeous substance. His dark brown hair was conservatively cut, but rumpled, as if he ran his hands through it…and made her want to do the same. His physique was that of an athlete, strong, muscular. And his blue eyes almost made her swoon. Or was that her illness?

“Ms. Colton?” he asked as he stepped into the room and extended his hand.

She was reluctant to accept that offer of welcome. But she finally shook his warm hand with hers. And shivered.

“Cold? Oh, sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Dr. Hathaway.”

She gave him a slight smile and nodded.

“I understand you’ve been exciting the crowds with your singing. Congratulations.”

She wanted to ask if he paid his nurse a bonus for filling him in on his patients so he could appear so interested. But he wasn’t worth straining her voice any further.

With a nod, she waited for him to get down to business.

“Can you tell me what the problem is?”

She drew a deep breath. Many men had told her how sultry, how sexy, her voice was. But now it was raw, raspy and painful. With care, she said, “I’ve strained my voice.”

When she said nothing else, he pulled out a tongue depressor. “Open up.”

After several minutes of studying her throat and checking her ears, a frown on his well-chiseled face that, incredibly, included a cleft in his chin, he stepped back. “When did you first feel discomfort?”

“Last night,” she whispered.

“After your performance?” She nodded.

“Did it hit you suddenly?”

She shook her head no.

“Have you ever had this problem before?”

She shook her head. Then she said, carefully, “Stress. Antibiotics. Rest.”

Nick Hathaway clamped down on the cynical laughter that rose in his throat. Typical of these spoiled, wealthy young women. She’d never had the problem before, but she’d already diagnosed it and determined the cure.

“And you came to see me so you could demonstrate your brilliant diagnostic skills?” He knew better than to use sarcasm on a patient, but she happened to be the kind of woman he avoided at all costs.

Beside being beautiful, she was wealthy and self-centered. He knew from experience how wealthy women worked. And with beauty added to the mix—

She spoke again in that painful voice. “Antibiotics.”

He raised one eyebrow. “I don’t dispense antibiotics on request, Ms. Colton.” She just stared at him with the most glorious green eyes he’d ever seen. “I’ll need to do a throat culture, run a few other tests.”

She had the nerve to shake her head.

Nick glared at her, but she raised her left wrist and pointed to the watch she wore. A Rolex, of course.

“Theater,” she whispered.

He couldn’t believe her. “You surely don’t think you’re going to perform tonight?” Damn, the woman could barely speak.

She shrugged her shoulders.

“Look, Ms. Colton, if you are under my care, there will be no performance tonight. No performance for at least two weeks, at which time I will reevaluate your situation, but I promise nothing.” He sounded too angry. Drawing a deep breath, he finished in cold tones, “If you find those terms unacceptable, I’ll be glad to refer you to another local doctor. Or you can take yourself to New York City and a considerably more expensive doctor to confirm what I’ve just said.”

Much to his surprise, after staring at him with various emotions changing those brilliant green eyes to a darker color, she gave a vigorous nod of approval. Then she whispered, “Antibiotics.”

He was surprised at the relief that her agreement gave him, but her last word irritated him again. “No antibiotics until after the tests.”

Her eyes rounded in panic, and she vigorously shook her head no.

“Yes,” he insisted. “I insist.”

To his consternation, she slid off the examining table, picked up the purse she’d left in a side chair and started for the door.

He should let her go, he decided. He didn’t need a patient unwilling to listen, intent on getting her way, determined to be in control.

Then she fainted.

Liza didn’t come to until she’d been put in an ambulance. The clanging of the doors brought her around. There was a man beside the stretcher and she reached out to tug on his shirt.

“Just lie quietly, ma’am. We’ll have you to the hospital in a couple of minutes.”

She didn’t need to be told the obvious. She tried again. “Doctor,” she whispered, not seeing the handsome man who’d examined her.

“No, I’m not the doctor. I’m a paramedic.” He grinned at her, no doubt impressed with his boyish charm.

She wasn’t impressed by his intelligence. “Hathaway!” she returned, the strain sending shooting pains down her throat.

“Oh!” the young man exclaimed, as if a lightbulb had gone off over his head. “You mean where is Dr. Hathaway?” After she nodded, he added, “He’s meeting us at the hospital.”

Frowning, Liza thought about what had occurred. The doctor had wanted her to have tests. No doubt if she went to a hospital, he’d expect her to stay. She couldn’t.

Grabbing his shirt again as the paramedic leaned forward to say something to his partner, who was driving the ambulance, she said, “No hospital.”

“Hey, pretty lady, we’ve got a fine hospital. They’ll take good care of you.”

She vigorously shook her head.

Ignoring her response, he said, his voice full of fake cheerfulness, “Here we are.”

When they rolled her into the emergency room, she felt like the center of a whirlwind, not moving as everyone rushed around her.

The paramedic was giving a report to a doctor in abbreviated terms that made no sense to her. She tried to interrupt, but with no voice, it was hard to get their attention.

She used her earlier technique, grabbing the man’s white coat and tugging.

“Hello, Ms. Colton. Don’t worry. We’re going to take care of you. I’ve heard you sing. Let me tell you it’s a pleasure to welcome you to our hospital.”

She shook her head. “No hospital,” she insisted in her raspy whisper, her stress rising.

“Dr. Hathaway will be here any minute. I’m sure he—”

“No!” she protested as loudly as possible. Then she fell back against the pillow, clutching her throat.

For the first time the doctor appeared unsure of himself. “Uh, we’ll just take your vital signs and wait for Dr. Hathaway.” And he backed away from her, giving instructions to a nurse.

Liza closed her eyes. Being unable to use such a vital part of her, her voice, was frustrating. She knew she’d endangered it with her foolish behavior, but eating or sleeping had seemed unimportant the past three days.

If only she hadn’t fainted.

“Ah, Dr. Hathaway, I’m glad you’re here,” she heard the E.R. doctor exclaim.

She shoved herself to a sitting position just as the nurse was trying to take her pulse.

“Here now, dear, just relax. Dr. Hathaway is one of our best physicians. He’ll take good care of you.”

She shook her head, her gaze seeking the handsome doctor. When she found him in the constantly moving crowd, she waved him over.

Before she could make the effort to speak, however, he began barking out orders to the nurse.

“And set up an IV. She’s dehydrated.” He looked at Liza. “When was the last time you ate?”

She shrugged her shoulders. She didn’t want to admit her foolishness. But she’d been so frightened for Emily, it had been impossible to think of such mundane things.

While the nurse set up her IV, the E.R. physician drew Dr. Hathaway to the side and began whispering to him. He sent a sharp look her way, making Liza wonder what the man was telling him.

She had her answer when Dr. Hathaway stepped back to her side. “My cohort here says you’ve refused to be admitted.”

She nodded, relieved that finally someone was listening to her.

“Look, Ms. Colton, I know you don’t want to stay here, but at least let us give you some fluids and check things out. Only for an hour or two.”

As he finished speaking, the nurse returned with a plastic bag of fluid.

“If you’ll at least let us do that, you’ll feel a lot better,” he assured her, that deep voice sounding very soothing.

“Have to—call…cancel tonight,” she muttered, each word paining her.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. What theater are you performing in?”

She managed to get out the name of the prestigious theater.

Even though he listened, he also motioned to the nurse. She placed something in his hand. He came around to the side of the bed where the IV was hung. “Just rest for a little while. I’ll be back shortly,” he assured her.

Liza saw him inject a syringe into a juncture in the tube. She tried to ask what he was giving her, but suddenly even her raspy whisper was impossible. Her tongue wouldn’t move and her eyelids drifted closed. The sleep that had eluded her for so long was making up for lost time.

“I want her admitted,” Nick told his colleague.

“But she said she didn’t want to be here,” the E.R. doctor said cautiously. “We can’t hold her against her will.”

“Do you want to ask her now?”

“Well, no, I mean, you’ve sedated her, but—”

“She agreed to stay a few hours so we could check her out. I suspect she’s either on some radical diet or may even have recently become bulimic. You know how these entertainers are.” He turned to the nurse. “Have her taken upstairs and admitted. Tell the nurse on duty that at the first sign of her waking up, she’s to call me at once.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

With a nod of thanks, he strode out of the emergency room to make the short drive back to his office. He’d left patients waiting while he attended to the mysterious Ms. Colton. The beautiful Ms. Colton.

Not that he was interested, of course, he assured himself. First of all, he never had personal relationships with his patients. And secondly, he’d been married to a beautiful, wealthy woman. He’d never commit such a mistake again.

Not that Liza Colton resembled his ex-wife, Daphne, in any way other than her wealth. Daphne was a neon sign and Liza Colton was moonlight. Daphne was a curvaceous blonde who used every trick in the book to catch a man’s eye. Liza Colton was a slender brunette, almost too slender, her dark hair cut in a pixie that made her green eyes look huge. She had that fragile, graceful appearance of Winona Ryder or, maybe even more, Audrey Hepburn.

He shook off such thoughts. It wasn’t like him to linger on a patient’s appearance. His job was to treat the woman and send her on her way.

The rest of the afternoon he tended to patients, calmly and efficiently. But he couldn’t keep his thoughts away from Liza Colton. He had his nurse call the hospital midway through the afternoon to check with the nurse on duty.

Ms. Colton was still sleeping.

He hadn’t given her that strong a sedative. He’d expected her to awaken after a couple of hours.

As soon as he saw his last patient, he stripped off his lab coat and grabbed his jacket. “I’m going to the hospital, Missy. You can reach me there if anything comes up before you go home.”

“Are you going to see Liza Colton? ‘Cause I’d love her autograph!”

“She’s sick, Missy. I can’t bother her with that kind of request,” he chided, smiling at his young nurse.

Missy’s face fell. “I guess not.”

Nick half smiled. “I’ll see how she’s feeling. Maybe I’ll ask her, but I’m not promising anything.” Missy was a good nurse who worked hard. Surely one autograph wouldn’t be too much to ask from the diva.

He was rewarded by Missy’s brilliant smile and her thanks. With a wave, he hurried to his car.

Once he reached the hospital, he went straight to the second floor where Liza Colton was. “Any change?” he asked the floor nurse.

“On Miss Colton? No, she’s sleeping.”

With a frown, he walked to her room. Just as the nurse had reported, she was sleeping soundly after four hours. Unless she had a bad reaction to the sedative, or she hadn’t slept in a while, she shouldn’t still be asleep.

He lifted her delicate hand and held her wrist. Pulse was normal. He listened to her heart. No problem there.

Reluctantly, he decided to awaken her.

“Ms. Colton? Can you hear me, Ms. Colton?” He patted her hand as he called her name, but she didn’t stir. Finally he took her by her shoulders and gently shook her. “Liza? Liza, open your eyes.”

Very slowly, her dark lashes swept up, and she stared at him blankly.

“Do you remember me? I’m Dr. Hathaway. You came to see me about your throat.”

After staring at him with confusion, she finally nodded, then let her eyelids drift down again.

“Don’t go back to sleep. I need to ask you some questions.”

He grabbed the pillow from the next bed and pulled her forward, to slip the extra pillow behind her. He wasn’t happy to realize he liked holding her in his arms. What was wrong with him suddenly?

He backed away from the bed and went to the foot of it, adjusting the upper part of it a little higher.

“Ms. Colton? Liza? Open your eyes.”

“So tired,” she whispered, even as her eyes flickered.

“Haven’t you been sleeping well?”

“No,” she said, her voice still raspy. “Couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Em—” Before she could finish that word, whatever it might’ve been, she came fully awake and sent a panicked look his way.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he asked, growing more intrigued by the moment. He went to the side of the bed.

“Have to go,” she muttered, the words paining her if her face was any indication.

“You’re not well, Ms. Colton. When’s the last time you ate?”

With her gaze flickering around the room, as if looking for an escape, she shrugged her shoulders.

“Young lady, I need a better answer than that. If you’re on some ridiculous, totally unnecessary diet, I need to know. It could be affecting your voice.”

She lifted one thin hand to rub her forehead. “No,” she replied, though he wasn’t sure what she was saying.

“You’re not on a diet?”

She shook her head, though not vigorously.

He leaned forward and pushed the call button. “Nurse? I want two dinner trays brought to room 226 ASAP.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

He sat on the edge of the bed. When she stared at him in confusion, he said, “I’m starving. I thought I’d keep you company, even though it’s a little early for dinner.”

He wanted to see her eat. And keep the food down. If she was bulimic, he’d have to stay for several hours. But he hadn’t really seen any signs of bulimia.

“Must go,” she said, her raspy voice holding panic.

“I called the theater and told them you were ill and wouldn’t be performing. They promised to take care of everything, and to keep your location quiet.” He wasn’t sure about that necessity, or even if that’s what she’d want. She probably preferred the notoriety an illness would give her.

That was the way divas were.

The nurse came in at that moment carrying two trays.

“You’re in luck tonight, Doctor. Meat loaf is on the menu, along with apple pie,” the nurse told him, grinning.

He returned her smile. “Sounds good. Doesn’t it, Ms. Colton?”

She looked so lost, he felt a stirring of compassion. If she was truly a diva, how had she lost her way so badly? Was someone pressuring her to lose weight? Was her career not going well? The theater said they’d contact her manager, and Nick had felt compelled to give them Liza’s location to pass on to the man. But now he wondered if he’d made the right decision.

He moved to the foot of her bed to raise the head of it a little more before he put one of the trays on the bed table and rolled it toward her. Then he removed the metal cover.

“Doesn’t that look good?” he asked, looking at Liza.

She didn’t move, her face not reflecting pleasure. Instead, she stared at the meal in distaste.

He ignored his own meal and lifted her fork to cut a piece of the thick meat loaf. “Let’s take a bite of this. I think you’ll really like it.”

Holding it up to her mouth, he waited until she finally opened her lips for him to insert it.

He kept his eyes on her as he instructed, “Chew it up, Liza. You need the calories.”

She swallowed and he started to feed her a bite of corn. Before he could, however, she emitted distressed sounds.

He grabbed the dish they distributed for queasy stomachs just in time.

Two

Embarrassed and miserable, Liza shuddered. “Too much.”

“Lady, that was hardly enough to keep a fly alive,” the doctor muttered, clearly irritated with her.

“No,” she protested, her throat even more raw. “Haven’t eaten since…days.”

He stared at her as he checked her pulse. Then he punched the call button again. “Nurse, we need soup, Jell-O, things for nausea.”

“I asked you when you last ate,” he grumbled as he sat back after disposing of the pan. Then his eyes gentled. “Want me to wipe your face?”

She nodded, not bothering to speak. He disappeared, then reappeared, a damp washcloth in his hand. His gentleness as he cleaned her brought tears to her eyes.

“Hey, quit worrying. We’re going to take care of you,” he assured her.

“Have to go,” she whispered.

“Honey, I don’t think you have enough energy to walk. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on? I’ll be better able to help you if you do.”

She couldn’t tell him about Emily. It was supposed to be kept secret. Especially what she knew.

The phone rang, startling her.

After raising one eyebrow at her, Nick Hathaway reached for the phone. Whoever it was could talk to him. He didn’t want his patient straining her voice any more.

“Who’s this?” a woman barked into the phone.

“Dr. Hathaway. Who’s this?”

“Cynthia Turner Colton. Liza’s mother and manager. Where’s my daughter?”

“Your daughter is here in bed, Mrs. Colton, resting. May I help you?”

“No! Put her on the phone!”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Colton, but I don’t want your daughter to talk right now. Her throat has been damaged enough.”

“Damaged?” the woman shrieked. “Damn it! You’re a doctor. Fix it!”

“I’m doing what I can.”

“I want her on that stage tonight, do you hear me? I will not allow her to screw up her reputation by missing concerts. People will start to whisper about drugs.”

“She can’t—”

“Give her whatever is necessary for her to sing! Tell her I said she has no choice!”

“You’re wrong. She’s an adult.” Even as he said those words, he stared at his patient. He’d assumed she was. He couldn’t remember her age on the chart and she certainly looked young. When the woman on the phone didn’t contradict him, he continued, “She will choose whether or not she sings or remains my patient.”

“You uncooperative— I’ll find another doctor. Get out of her room!”

Big green eyes were fixed on his face and he smiled, hoping to reassure her. “As I said, Mrs. Colton, that’s not your decision.”

“I’m her manager, damn you! Her career is my business. No two-bit country doctor is going to tell me what to do!”

Nick did something he’d never done before. He hung up on a family member of a patient. Because of her, he had a lot more sympathy for Liza Colton. Her mother/manager had never asked how Liza felt, if she was being well taken care of, or even if she was breathing. All she wanted was for her daughter to perform, whether she could or not.

“Your mother,” he said, looking at Liza.

“Sorry,” Liza whispered.

The nurse brought in a new tray and picked up the old one. Nick had slid it away from the bed when she’d gotten sick. “Thanks, Mary.”

She left and he smiled down at Liza. “Let’s try this again with something a little easier on your system.” He lifted a spoon to dip into the chicken broth when the phone rang again.

He had no doubt who was calling. Picking up the phone he said, “Yes?”

“Don’t you hang up on me or I’m going to report you.”

“Feel free. Want a number to call?”

“I want to talk to my daughter!”

“I’m sorry, that’s not possible tonight. You can try again tomorrow. She might be available then.”

“Tomorrow is too late! I want her on that stage tonight!”

“Mrs. Colton, I’ve already canceled her performance tonight. Any attempt to perform could do irreparable damage to her vocal cords. Is that what you want?”

“How qualified are you?”

“I’m an ear, nose and throat specialist with advanced degrees. I’ve been practicing in Saratoga Springs for eight years. I’m on the board here at the hospital and I consult around the state.”

“So you’ll guarantee she’ll only miss tonight?”

“I’ll do no such thing. She’ll have to rest for two weeks. Then we’ll see.” He knew his words were going to set her off again, so he held the receiver away from his ear. Liza had closed her eyes, but as her mother’s voice echoed from the receiver, she looked up at him, a sad expression on her face.

“I have to go now, Mrs. Colton. Thank you for calling.” He didn’t wait for her to respond, but he decided she couldn’t really say he’d hung up on her again since he’d politely said goodbye. At least her call had shed a little more light on her daughter’s emotional state, if nothing else.

He lifted the spoon half-filled with chicken broth to her lips and she slowly sipped. Then she tried to speak. “I can—” She reached for the spoon.

Though he allowed her to feed herself, he sat beside her until she’d eaten at least half the broth. “Want some of this tasty red Jell-O?” he asked, nudging the other bowl forward.

She frowned at the Jell-O, as if suspicious of it, but she finally slipped a trembly cube of it into her mouth. Lying back, she seemed to let it melt.

“Has your mother been pushing you to lose weight?” He couldn’t imagine why the woman would want that. He thought Liza was too thin, but stage mothers could be crazy.

She shook her head and closed her eyes, as if hiding something.

“You know you’ve been playing a dangerous game not only with your health, but also your voice. The vocal cords are dependent on your overall health.”

She nodded, but looked away.

“Try to eat a little more.” When she picked up the spoon again, relief filled him. He was always concerned with his patients’ recovery, but Liza Colton had grabbed his heart. Maybe it was the abusive mother. Or the sadness in her eyes. Or her overall fragility.

Several minutes later, she put down the spoon. “No more,” she muttered, adding a small smile, as if to reward him.

“You did pretty well, considering that was your first meal in a while.”

Liza could feel herself coming to depend on that sexy smile of the doctor’s. And she was fascinated with the cleft in his chin. The urge to trace it with her finger was crazy, but it was there all the same.

She frowned, hoping to erase those thoughts and convince the doctor she was serious. “Must go.”

Pushing the tray back, she tried to swing her legs off the bed, but he was blocking her way.

“I don’t think so. Look, just give me twenty-four hours. We can—”

He broke off when she vigorously shook her head. And got dizzy.

“At least until the morning? I’ll come to your room before you have breakfast. That will give you a night’s rest, at least.”

That plan sounded so tempting, she paused to give it some consideration. But Emily— “Call hotel,” she whispered. “Messages.”

She received a level stare for her words. “I’ll call for your messages,” he said. “They wouldn’t understand you anyway.”

She knew none of the family would leave any inappropriate messages for strangers to hear, so she nodded and gave him the name of the hotel. Tensely she waited for him to report back to her after his brief conversation.

“Your mother called half an hour ago, shortly before she reached you here. And a few minutes ago a Mrs. Tremble called.”

Liza frowned. She wasn’t surprised by her mother’s calls. But Mrs. Tremble? Somehow that name rang a bell but— Suddenly she sat straight up in bed and grabbed the doctor’s wrist.

“What is it? Are you in pain?” he asked at once, leaning close to her.

Too close. She drew a deep breath and subsided against the pillow. “Mrs. Tremble’s message?”

He looked at the pad he’d written the messages on. “She said she’d call back in twenty-four hours.”

Relief and joy filled Liza. “Number?”

He shook his head.

She had no way to return the call, but she reminded herself that Emily was smart. She been clever enough to elude the man who’d tried to kill her. Smart enough to be alive.

Liza wanted to call Uncle Joe, but she couldn’t. Emily wouldn’t have used the name Mrs. Tremble if everything was okay. Mrs. Tremble was an old rag doll that had been Emily’s constant companion during her youth. She’d known Liza would recognize the name.

“What’s so important about that call?” Dr. Hathaway asked.

She beamed at him. “Important,” she repeated, nodding.

“So you’ll stay overnight?” he asked, watching her.

What could it hurt? She could get a good night’s rest and feel better tomorrow. And her mother probably wouldn’t call back at the hospital. She wouldn’t have to deal with her until she felt better.

That thought alone eased the tightness in her stomach. But most of all, it was Emily’s call that had her relaxing, letting her exhaustion creep in, sending her eyelids lower. Emily was still in trouble, but she was alive.

Liza tried to nod, to signify her agreement, but she wasn’t sure she made it. Blessed sleep was taking over.

Nick watched his patient fade into sleep, curiosity rampant in his head. When he’d read the message, her electric response told him it was important. Now, as he watched the tension leave her body, he knew whatever had been bothering her was easing, allowing sleep to take charge.

She should show a good improvement in the morning if she slept twelve or fourteen hours, after taking in some nourishment. He’d join her for breakfast, make sure she ate. Then, if she insisted on leaving he couldn’t legitimately hold her.

But he thought he’d drop by the hotel and personally question the operator who had taken the message from the mysterious Mrs. Tremble.

Liza Colton had caught his interest for a lot of different reasons, not least of which was the mystery that surrounded her.

He insisted it had nothing to do with her delicate beauty.

It was Saturday, and the hospital was quiet at seven in the morning. Most doctors, if they made rounds, did so at a later hour on the weekends. But Nick didn’t have family at home. Only his housekeeper. And he was used to the early hours.

At least that’s how he justified his 7:00 a.m. arrival to himself. He was sure it had nothing to do with the fact that he’d dreamed about Liza Colton last night.

He’d stopped by the hotel on his way home and spoken to the woman who’d taken the messages for Liza. She’d told him that Mrs. Tremble had been a woman, sounding fairly young, and definitely not Mrs. Colton. The lady had rolled her eyes and remembering his own conversations with Liza’s mother, Nick could understand that reaction.

That visit probably explained why he’d dreamed of his newest patient. It was the mystery. He read mysteries for relaxation. He loved the puzzle aspect, trying to figure out who the killer could be.

It couldn’t be Mrs. Colton, he decided with a grin. She was much too obvious. But he suspected she had something to do with his patient’s tension.

He stepped through the door of Liza’s room, after having checked at the nurse’s desk. Liza hadn’t called for a nurse all night.

No wonder, he decided. She was still sleeping. She must’ve been on the verge of a total collapse when she’d come to his office. Quietly he moved to her side, sliding cool fingers down her arm to feel her pulse.

Her eyes slowly opened and she stared at him, no recognition in her eyes.

“Good morning, Liza. It’s Dr. Hathaway. I seem to be in the habit of waking you up. How are you this morning?”

“F-fine,” she managed, her voice low, husky, but not as raw as the night before.

“Good. I think breakfast is on the way. Do you want to use the facilities before you eat?”

She nodded. He pulled back the covers and helped her to stand. She swayed and his arm shot around her.

“I’ll walk you to the door,” he said, sounding as if his assistance was non-negotiable and normal. Slowly they crossed the small space. When they reached the door, he asked, “Can you make it on your own? I can call a nurse.”

“Not necessary,” she said softly and closed the door.

He stood outside the door, leaning one shoulder against the wall, anxious to have her back in the bed. He worried that she might fall and hurt herself even more.

The nurse came in carrying the two trays he’d requested.

“Morning, Doctor. How’s the patient?”

“A little groggy.”

The nurse looked at the closed door. “Want me to check on her?”

The door opened, making her offer unnecessary. Liza stood there, holding on to the doorjamb. “Robe?” she asked, looking at the nurse.

“’Fraid we don’t have any. But don’t worry. We’ve all seen backsides before,” the nurse said cheerfully and put down the trays. “Call if you need me, Doctor.” Then she swept out the door.

Liza stood there, her cheeks red. He figured she wasn’t going to let him walk behind her to the bed, since her hospital gown tied in the back with revealing gaps. With a smile, he picked her up, holding her against his chest.

“This way, no one will see anything, including me,” he promised her. The distance to the bed was ridiculously short, and he laid her down on the mattress.

“Ready for breakfast?” he asked, busying himself with putting the tray on the bed table and rolling it to her, then raising the head of the bed. Anything to dispel the memory of holding her against him.

He thought her eyes seemed brighter this morning. She gave the appearance of being stronger, even though she’d been trembling when she’d walked to the bathroom.

Lifting the metal covering from the plate, he revealed scrambled eggs, bacon, a biscuit and orange slices. “Hey, it looks good, doesn’t it?”

She pointed to the second tray. “You eat, too.”

“With pleasure. I didn’t wake up my housekeeper this morning. I need coffee.”

Her tray had milk instead of coffee, but she didn’t complain.

He settled on the edge of the bed, a no-no as far as the nurses were concerned, but he wanted to be close to her. To observe her, of course. That was the only reason.

She needed no urging this morning to eat. But she filled up quickly. He noticed she hadn’t eaten any bacon when she lay back against the pillows.

“Try a bite or two of bacon, in between orange slices,” he suggested.

“I’m full.”

“Just a bite or two. And the orange is especially sweet. You can’t let it go to waste.” He was pleased as he watched her do as he’d asked.

He’d almost finished his entire breakfast in the time it had taken her to eat half of hers. He stood and moved the bed tray as soon as she finished, stacking his empty tray beneath hers.

Then he returned to his seat on the bed and took her wrist in his hand. “So, how are you feeling now?”

“Much better, thank you,” she whispered.

He took a tongue depressor and looked at her throat. Then he checked her ears. “You know what? I think your diagnosis was correct. You needed rest, food and no stress. And antibiotics.” He grinned at her.

She smiled back. “Infection?”

“Maybe just the hint of one, but it’s not unusual when the entire body is under this kind of pressure. We caught it early, so it will go away fast. Are you allergic to anything?”

She shook her head no.

“Then I’ll be right back. Don’t go away.”

Liza watched the handsome doctor as he walked out of her room. He was being incredibly kind to her, especially after their confrontation in his office.

And because of him, she was feeling much better. Because of him and Emily’s phone call. Liza was thinking more clearly this morning. She even thought she might have the strength to get downstairs and call a taxi. She certainly didn’t want to cause the doctor any more trouble.

And she had to be back at the hotel for Emily’s phone call. Emily Blair Colton was her cousin, but their closeness was greater than that and had a lot to do with Liza’s own childhood.

Cynthia and Graham Colton, her mother and father, never showed any parental instincts. In fact, for as long as she could remember, Liza had considered her Aunt Meredith to be her true mother. She’d spent almost all summer every year at Uncle Joe and Aunt Meredith’s home in California. Even most school holidays. Her mother was pleased to be rid of Liza and her brother. Even though they lived fairly close to Joe and Meredith, since her father worked for Joe, Cynthia and Graham never visited during her stays.

Always imaginative, Liza had built up a fantasy that Meredith and Joe were her parents. Her time away from them was like boarding school. But she always came back to them.

From the moment Emily had been adopted by Meredith and Joe, Liza acted like her big sister, watching after her, making her feel more secure. Since she’d always longed for a sister, Liza took Emily to her heart. They’d become sisters by love if not by blood.

Nine years ago, while Liza was at her parents’ house, her beloved Aunt Meredith had taken Emily in the car to see her biological grandmother. There’d been a wreck…and Aunt Meredith had never been the same.

Her interest in any of her children had disappeared at once. The garden she tended so enthusiastically was neglected. The strong bond she shared with her husband seemed to have disappeared, and Uncle Joe began staying away from home more than he ever had. And he seldom spent time with his wife, where before they’d been devoted to each other.

The next time Liza had come back to their home, she’d discovered Emily pale and frightened. Only to Liza did she tell her secret. She’d seen two Merediths the day of the accident: a good Meredith and bad Meredith.

Liza at first rejected Emily’s story. But the longer she spent time around Aunt Meredith, the more she agreed that something horrible had happened. The woman she considered to be her mother seemed to have changed overnight. Both Emily and Liza had felt abandoned.

Though they’d kept in touch, she and Emily hadn’t spent as much time together after the accident, because Cynthia launched Liza’s singing career in earnest.

Then, a few days ago, Emily disappeared.

She’d called Liza the morning after her disappearance. Her tale of what had happened had scared Liza. Emily had promised to call again as soon as she could. Liza had been waiting for her call, afraid she might be trailed by the man Emily claimed had tried to do away with her earlier.

And she believed Emily’s story. She believed Aunt Meredith had hired someone to kill Emily, in spite of the kidnapper’s ransom note her uncle had received the next morning.

The door opened and she looked up, expecting either a nurse or Dr. Hathaway.

Instead, a strange man entered, dressed in jeans and a dirty blue shirt, a menacing look on his face and a long, sharp knife in his hand.

Three

Nick had gotten a prescription of antibiotics filled and was coming back to Liza’s room when he noticed a man standing in the doorway.

“Excuse me,” he said, smiling briefly. “Are you visiting Miss Colton?”

The man jerked in surprise and backed out of the door, tucking one hand behind his back, then turned and ran down the hall.

Nick’s first concern was Liza. He stepped in the room to discover his patient pale and shaking. “Liza, what’s wrong?”

“That—that man!” she exclaimed, her breathing shallow.

“You want me to stop him?”

She nodded urgently, but her eyes were fearful.

Nick shoved the medicine in his pocket, turned and ran for the elevators. At the nurse’s desk, he said, “Call Security. Have them stop the man who just left this floor. He was wearing jeans and a blue shirt.”

“He took the stairs,” one nurse said even as she dialed the phone.

Nick did the same, racing down the stairs. He burst through the door into the main lobby, but despite a thorough search of the area, especially the front doors, he didn’t see the man. Nick grabbed a security guard, but no one had seen the stranger.

“You want me to call the police, Dr. Hathaway?” the guard asked, eager to please.

“No, thanks, Pete. I’ll talk to my patient. I think she’s leaving the hospital today anyway.”

“You just let us know, Doc. We’ll do whatever you want.”

“I know. I appreciate it, thanks.” Nick took the elevator back to the second floor and returned to Liza’s room.

“Who was that?” he asked as he entered.

“I—I don’t know,” she whispered, but she didn’t look at him.

“I think you do. I want to know if the police should be involved.”

He kept his gaze on her, but she didn’t answer. Instead, she gnawed her bottom lip, fear in her eyes. He figured he had a right to intervene if for no other reason than her health. Whatever was bothering her had caused her not to eat or sleep.

It sounded pretty serious to him.

“Did he threaten you?”

She nodded her head.

“What did he say?”

“’Where’s Emily?’” she repeated, obviously quoting the man. Then she burst into tears.

Without even thinking about his actions, Nick strode across the room and pulled Liza against him, stroking her back in a soothing motion. When she began to calm down, he asked, “Did he say anything else?”

She shook her head.

“I hate to tell you this, but ‘Where’s Emily?’ isn’t much of a threat.”

She sniffed and burrowed deeper against him. “He had a knife.”

Nick asked enough to realize the knife was a serious weapon. “Okay, so who’s Emily?”

At once, Liza stiffened and tried to draw away.

“Whoa, where do you think you’re going?”

She avoided his gaze even as she put some distance between them. “I have to go.”

“Where?”

“Back to the hotel.”

“I’m not sure that’s safe. What if the man finds you there?”

Her green eyes were huge as she thought about his words. “I—I don’t think he’ll come back,” she whispered.

“Because you’re going to call the police?”

She covered her face with her hands. “I don’t know what to do,” she wailed, her words coming out muffled.

“You’ve got to stay calm, Liza, if you’re going to get better. You have to concentrate on eating and sleeping. That’s what’s important.”

She shook her head. “Emily is— I mean, other things— I have to go to the hotel.”

Nick sat back and sighed. She might be weak. She might not have shown good judgment in skipping meals and sleep. But she was as stubborn as any woman he’d ever seen. “Okay, I’ll take you to the hotel, if you’ll let me come with you. And if you’ll call the police.”

“Maybe I should,” she finally said with a sigh. Then she looked at him again, drilling him with her green eyes. “Do you promise to keep everything you overhear between me and the police a secret?”

“I promise,” he said solemnly.

Once Dr. Hathaway got her to her room in the hotel, he told her to go shower and change clothes while he contacted the police.

“Ask for non-uniforms, please,” she asked in a wobbly voice. “I don’t want anyone in the hotel to wonder about the cops.”

He nodded.

So far he’d done exactly as she’d asked in everything, so she decided to trust him. Besides, a shower and clean clothes were necessary before she could face anyone.

But she felt she had to report the man to the police because she suspected he had something to do with Emily’s disappearance. Uncle Joe had told her not to speak to anyone, but she thought he would agree to her telling the Saratoga Springs police. They could contact the police in Prosperino, California, where her uncle’s huge estate was located.

Fifteen minutes later, she was exhausted but clean, dressed in black slacks and a green sweater, her hair still wet. She moussed and quickly styled it. Then she headed for the living room of her suite.

Dr. Hathaway stood as she entered and for the first time she noticed two other gentlemen in the room who also got to their feet. At least the police here were prompt.

“Liza Colton,” the doctor said smoothly as he came forward and took her arm, “these gentlemen are John Ramsey and Bill Wilson, detectives with the Saratoga Springs Police Department.”

He seemed to intuitively know she was feeling quite weak. Easing her into a nearby chair, he waved the officers back to the sofa. Then he hurried to answer a knock on her door.

Liza tensed, wondering if the knife-wielding stranger from the hospital had followed her back here. Instead, a waiter rolled in a cart. The doctor handed him some money and escorted him to the door.

“I ordered coffee,” he told the detectives, “and a snack. Ms. Colton needs to eat. This is her first time on her feet and she’s weak.”

“I wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee myself,” one of the detectives said before turning to her. “Can you tell me what the problem is, Ms. Colton?”

Liza licked her lips, fearful of what she had to say. She looked at Dr. Hathaway again, and he nodded in support. “My—my cousin was kidnapped several days ago. At least, that’s what the ransom note said.”

The men exchanged looks. “What is your cousin’s name?” one of them asked.

“Emily Blair Colton.” She noted the doctor’s eyes narrowing, as he recognized the name. She added, “My uncle is Joe Colton. He’s a former California senator.” She knew his name would be much more recognizable than Emily’s. He was a multi-millionaire, as well as politically active.

“And the man today? The doctor said he threatened you.”

“Not exactly. He scared me by the way he stared at me, like he was going to hurt me, and he had a huge knife, but all he asked was where Emily was.” Before the policemen could speak, she hurriedly added, “I know that’s not a threat—” she spared the doctor a look “—but somehow I think he’s connected to her kidnapping.”

“You could be right. Can you describe him?”

“Yes.”

“If I can borrow the phone, I’ll call the station, see if we have any information on the kidnapping and request a police artist to come over.”

At her nod, Detective Ramsey stood and crossed to the phone.

Dr. Hathaway put a glass of milk in front of her along with a plate of oatmeal raisin cookies.

“We’ll help you eat those cookies,” he said with a grin, “but you’ve got to have one or two, okay?”

“I just finished breakfast,” she protested.

“That was several hours ago, and we both know you’re a little behind in the nourishment department.”

She blushed, aware of the other detective’s sharp look. She certainly didn’t want to explain anything else to these strangers. Including the fact that she’d talked to Emily after her escape and thought Emily was trying to contact her again.

She gasped and stared at the doctor. What if he mentioned the message from Mrs. Tremble?

He’d been watching her. “What?” he asked, kneeling beside her chair and reaching out to feel of her forehead. “Your throat hurt?”

“Uh, yes, a little.”

He snapped his fingers. “I forgot to give you the antibiotics.” He stood and pulled a pill bottle out of his pocket. “Here, take one of these morning and night until they’re all gone.”

Detective Ramsey returned to the sofa. “The police artist will be here in about fifteen minutes. Now, Ms. Colton, the kidnapping is being handled by the FBI. Our superintendent was quite surprised to discover anyone here knew about it.”

She nodded.

With barely a pause, he continued, “Which made him wonder why someone involved in the kidnapping would come all this way to ask you about Ms. Colton.”

Liza had been lifting the milk glass to her mouth to help her swallow the pill, and his question caused the glass to wobble, splashing milk on the coffee table.

Dr. Hathaway quickly steadied her hand and helped her take a drink. It gave her time to think of her answer.

“Thank you,” she said softly. She used a napkin to wipe up the spill. “I’m sorry, gentlemen. I’m a little weak today. To answer your question, Emily and I are very close, more like sisters than—than cousins. I suppose if—if she escaped from whoever took her, they would expect her to come to me.”

“And you haven’t seen her or talked to her?” Detective Wilson asked, both men’s gazes fixed on her.

In spite of the temptation to look at the doctor, Liza faced her inquisitors and quietly said, “No. I’ve neither seen her nor talked to her. But I wish I had.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ramsey said, nodding. “But do you have any idea where she might’ve gone if she escaped from whoever took her?”

“No,” she said shaking her head. “But it’s a good sign, isn’t it? I mean, if the bad guys are looking for her, that means they don’t have her, doesn’t it?”

The two detectives exchanged a look. Then Ramsey said, “The ransom was paid yesterday, Ms. Colton. They didn’t catch the guy who collected the money and your cousin hasn’t been found.”

“Maybe the man you saw today was her boyfriend,” the second detective suggested.

“No! He was—he was in his forties and ugly.” The doctor raised one of his eyebrows and she hastily said, “I don’t mean ugly as in not handsome. I mean…not nice.” She swallowed and rubbed her throat. Then she whispered, “Emily is only nineteen. She’s so sweet, so gentle. She wouldn’t have anything in common with this man.”

The doctor got up to sit on the arm of her chair. “Lean back and breathe deeply, Liza. You’re getting all tensed up again. And don’t talk so much.”

She did as he asked and closed her eyes. His closeness helped her to take a deep breath. Strange how quickly she’d come to rely on him.

“We’ll try to wrap this up quickly, Ms. Colton. We checked on the messages you’ve received here. One from your mother and another from a Mrs. Tremble. Can you tell me what they had to say?”

Nick felt the tension rise again in her. He quickly said, “If you don’t mind me explaining, officers, to save my patient’s throat, I spoke to her mother last night after she left the message here. Her mother is also her manager and she was concerned about Liza’s schedule. There was no mention of Liza’s cousin.”

“And Mrs. Tremble?”

“I don’t know who the woman is, but I can assure you Liza hasn’t spoken to her. She spent the night in the hospital and received no calls. I’ve been with her since.”

“Ms. Colton, if you could just—”

“Housekeeper,” she said, her voice raspy again.

“And have you returned her call?” Ramsey asked.

She shook her head and pointed to her throat.

“Oh, that’s right. Besides, she said she’d call today, didn’t she?”

Liza nodded again but didn’t try to speak.

“Is that all the questions, gentlemen?” Nick intervened. “I’d like her to save her voice to describe the man for the sketch artist.”

“Yes, of course. What’s wrong with Ms. Colton’s throat?”

Nick looked at Liza, knowing he could refuse to say anything, but he feared to do so might make the men suspicious. And he had figured out that Liza was hiding something. “It’s a combination of a slight infection and exhaustion. It seems she gave up eating or sleeping once she was told about her cousin’s disappearance. She’s been very concerned. It doesn’t take the body long to deteriorate under those conditions.”

A knock at the door signaled the arrival of the artist. Nick opened the door and invited him in. The two detectives, after greeting the man, picked up their cups of coffee and moved to the window to talk quietly.

Nick returned to the arm of Liza’s chair. Her welcoming smile warmed his heart. She wanted him close. He reached for her glass of milk. “Take a drink before you try to speak again,” he suggested.

She took the glass from him and took a long drink. Then she greeted the artist.

With gentle, perceptive questions, the artist drew Liza out as she described the man. Nick helped, since he’d also seen him. When the artist finished and held up the resulting sketch, both Nick and Liza agreed that he’d done a good job of drawing the man.

The two detectives came back to stand behind the sofa and look at the sketch.

“Do you recognize him?” Liza asked. When she looked at the sketch she gulped, her eyes wide with fear. The drawing was dead-on: a big, burly man with a full head of coal-black hair.

Nick reached for her hand and held it against his thigh. “Rest, Liza. Your throat is sounding worse again.”

“No, ma’am, but he looks like a rough character, like an out-of-shape ex-fighter. He’d be pretty noticeable here in Saratoga Springs. We’ll see if we can pick up a trace of him. I suspect he bribed one of the employees downstairs to give him your location. The doctor said he only told the hotel, with a warning not to let out the information, and the Music Hall people, with the same warning.”

She nodded.

They sent the artist back to the station, with a request that he only show the sketch to the chief.

After he’d left, Ramsey sat back down on the sofa. “Now, Ms. Colton, what are your plans? Are you leaving the city?”

The lost look on her face bothered Nick. He wanted to pull her into his arms and promise to keep her safe. A ridiculous thought! He had nothing to do with Liza Colton, popular singer. She probably had tons of people to keep her safe.

Like her mother? he wondered derisively. That woman wouldn’t waste of moment of concern for her own daughter.

“I…don’t know. Doctor—”

Nick took over. “My patient isn’t well enough to travel yet. She’ll stay in town for another day or two, I’m sure. But we’ll let you know when she returns to New York City.”

“You have a place there?” the detective asked.

She nodded. Then she added, “An apartment.”

“Is that where Mrs. Tremble is?”

Nick felt her tense again. That name had set off her tension the last time.

“California,” she whispered.

“Well, if you’ll give us a number where you can be reached when you go back to New York City, we’ll keep you updated on anything we find out,” Ramsey said. Then he stood. “We’ll go and let you rest.” He started to walk to the door. Then he stopped and looked at Nick. “You going to stay with her? I don’t think that man will come back, but—”

Nick interrupted him as he felt Liza grow even more tense. “I’ll be with her.”

“Thanks, Doc. Call us if anything comes up.”

“I will,” he assured him as he stood to escort them to the door. When he closed the door behind them, he turned to look at his patient.

He had a question or two for her. But the exhaustion on her face stopped him. Satisfying his curiosity wasn’t as important as her health.

“Time for you to rest, young lady.”

Her eyes popped open and she shot him a worried look.

“Don’t worry. I’ll stay here and keep an eye on you. There’s a golf tournament on that I want to see and you just happen to have a big screen TV”

“I— Thank you. I shouldn’t be tired,” she whispered, “but I am.”

“Need me to carry you to bed?” he asked, ignoring her protest.

“No!” she said with a gasp. She pushed herself up from the chair, then wavered.

Nick reached out to steady her. “Okay, just take my arm and we’ll stroll to the bed.”

She put her hand on his bent arm. He loved the warmth of her near him, her depending on him. You’re being foolish, he warned himself. The moment she gets well, she’ll be focused on her career again and have no need for you.

But she needed him now.

Liza fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow, comforted by the last words she heard the doctor say. He’d keep watch until she woke up.

Five hours later, she stirred, not sure what had awakened her. The late afternoon sun was pouring into the room from the opened draperies. Was that what had bothered her? Or had there been a noise?

Immediately, fear filled her. Was the doctor there? Had that man returned? Or maybe the phone had rung. Maybe Emily had called and she’d missed it.

She sat up in the bed, still tired, but a little more awake.

“Dr. Hathaway?” she called, and waited anxiously for him to open the bedroom door. Relief poured through her when he did. She checked her watch. It was just after four o’clock. She was going to owe him a whopping bill for round-the-clock care.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, smiling at her.

Such a handsome man. It would be easy to have him around, she decided, to look at if nothing else. “Fine. Has anyone called?”

“Nope. Oh, I take that back. Your mother called, but she didn’t want to talk to me.” He grinned like a little boy who’d done a magic trick. “She hung up.”

She couldn’t help smiling back. Making her mother disappear would be a magic trick indeed. Cynthia normally traveled with Liza, but she’d been negotiating an appearance on a talk show in Chicago and had left her here in Saratoga Springs.

“Anyone else?”

“Nope. I didn’t awaken you for lunch. Are you hungry?” he asked, watching her.

She laughed, her voice a little shaky, still with a huskiness that wasn’t normal. “I think all you try to do is fill me up with food.”

“Well, so far I haven’t done such a good job. You missed lunch. Why don’t you slip on your slacks and we’ll go to the restaurant downstairs.”

“No! I mean, I need to be here in case I get any calls,” she whispered, avoiding his eyes.

He left the door and walked over to her bed, sitting down on the edge as he’d done in the hospital.

“Before we make any decisions about dinner, I think you’d better answer a question for me.”

She supposed she owed him that at least, since he’d done so much for her. With a hesitant nod, she watched him.

“Who is Mrs. Tremble?”

Four

He could feel the tension rise even without touching her. He wanted to assure her to forget his question, that it was important for her to relax. But he also wanted to be sure he wasn’t helping her break any laws. So he waited.

“You promised you wouldn’t tell,” she reminded him.

“I won’t help you break the law, Liza.”

She shook her head. “I’m not—I wouldn’t do that.”

“Then answer my question.”

She hesitated again. Finally, she said, “I think it’s Emily.”

“Your cousin? The one you believe was kidnapped? Why didn’t you tell the police?” He frowned at her.

“I…it’s complicated.”

“How?”

“I’m not sure it’s her, and if it is, I don’t know what her situation is now.”

“How could her situation be worsened by the police knowing?” he asked. “Surely you don’t suspect the police would harm her?”

“No,” she whispered, “but they might make her go back home.”

Her answer gave him pause and raised a lot more questions. “So you think someone in the family caused the problem?”

She shrugged her shoulders and looked away from him.

“Liza, you’re not making sense.”

She faced him this time, but her eyes had pools of tears in them. “That’s the problem. No one will believe her if—if what I think happened is true. No one.”

“No one but you.”

“Doctor—”

“I think it’s time you called me Nick, Liza. We’ve passed way beyond the doctor-patient relationship.” More than he wanted, he assured himself. He should just leave, but he couldn’t. She was too alone, too defenseless.

“I know I’ve become a real burden, Nick, and I appreciate all you’ve done for me.”

“Yeah, well, let’s get back to the subject. Why are you the only one who believes this Emily?”

“Because her story doesn’t make sense.”

Nick gave a heavy sigh and rubbed his face before looking at her again. “Look, Liza, I’m trying to help you, but you’re not giving me much to work with.”

“You’re right,” she said with a smile that didn’t hold a lot of warmth. Sitting up a little straighter in the bed, she said, “I’m sorry I’ve taken up so much of your time. I’ll call your office and leave an address to mail your bill.”

Feeling like the kitten he’d been cuddling had suddenly grown claws, he stared at her. “You want me to leave?”

“I can’t explain the situation to you, so I understand why you wouldn’t want to be involved.”

Frustrated, he stood, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Fine. I’m sure you— Damn it, Liza, what are you going to do? I can’t leave you here alone. What if that man comes back? Do you want me to call Detective Ramsey and have him assign a guard?”

“No! I’ll—I’ll manage on my own.”

“Sure! All ninety pounds of you,” he growled.

“I weigh more than that,” she objected.

“Are you going back to New York?”

Slowly she shook her head, as if making her decisions as they arose with no prior planning. “No, I don’t think so.”

He studied her, trying to think what to do. Slowly, he said, “I think you should disappear.”

“What?”

“If you had a place to go where no one would find you, except Emily, assuming Mrs. Tremble is Emily, that would be best, wouldn’t it? Just for a few days.”

“But I don’t know of anywhere,” she said, her voice almost a whisper again.

He sat back down on the edge of the bed. “But I do. Someplace where you’ll be safe and have someone to keep an eye on you until you feel better.”

“Where?” she asked, frowning.

“My house.”

Her green eyes huge, she pushed against the back of the bed, putting as much space between them as possible. “I won’t live with you. You’ve been kind, but I don’t— Sex isn’t part of the bargain, Dr. Hathaway.”

Liza stared at the handsome man sitting beside her, suddenly feeling much more vulnerable. She’d slid off her slacks for her nap. Now she wished she hadn’t done so.

His reaction to her words was interesting. Under a light tan, his cheeks were red.

“That’s not what I meant!” he assured her.

She lifted her chin and waited.

“I have a housekeeper, Mrs. Allen, and a large house that I’m redoing. There’s lots of room, and Bonnie— Mrs. Allen—is always complaining because I don’t entertain. You could move into the guest quarters, and she’d have someone to fuss over.”

“No, thank you.” She kept her response quiet, not wanting to even hint at the response her body was making. It had been a long time since she’d felt any interest in the opposite sex. She’d been engaged once, sure she’d found her true love.

Until her mother had bought him off.

Robert had decided a million dollars in his pocket now was much better than hoping to inherit from her parents one day.

And she’d decided true love was a lot of malarkey and wanted nothing to do with the men in the world. Until Dr. Nick Hathaway had come to her rescue. She wasn’t even sure how he’d become so important to her, but the fact that he interested her was warning enough.

“So you’re going to go to another hotel? If you’re half as well-known a singer as my nurse says you are, you’ll be recognized.”

“I’ll wear a disguise and go under a different name.”

“With credit cards that have your real name? How will you pay for anything?”

“I’ll get cash from an ATM,” she said, jutting her chin out and pressing her lips tightly together.

“That will work for a little while. Except if Mrs. Tremble is your cousin, she’ll be calling this afternoon. Where will you tell her you’ll be? You don’t have much time.”

“Stop it! You’re—you’re being difficult!” she exclaimed in frustration. She knew she was impulsive, not given to advance planning. Her mother ranted about how necessary she was to Liza’s career because Liza didn’t think ahead.

The problem was her career was more for her mother than her. Now, the kind doctor who had protected her had disappeared and someone who pushed her, just like her mother, had taken his place. He appeared stunned when she said so.

“I’m not— Well, maybe I am, but for your own good.”

“That’s what my mother says, too.” She glared at him.

As if memories of his conversation with her mother came back to him, he frowned, staring at her. Finally, he said, “I didn’t mean to upset you. Why don’t you get dressed and I’ll drive you to my house. Once you meet Mrs. Allen, you won’t have any doubts about my intentions.”

“I can’t leave in case Emily calls,” she returned. She really wasn’t trying to be obstinate, as her mother often assured her. But the call from Emily was too important.

She sighed with relief when he nodded, as if she’d made sense.

“Then I’ll call Bonnie and you can talk to her.” He reached for the phone.

“No! I don’t want you on the phone in case Emily calls.”

“I could go down to my car and get my cell phone, but it really isn’t necessary.” He dialed zero. “Operator, my friend, Ms. Colton, is expecting an important call. Can you break in if I’m making a local call?” He paused, then added, “Good, thank you.”

He hung up the phone and looked at her. “The operator promises she’ll interrupt if a phone call comes in for you. Is it all right if I call my housekeeper now?”

She nodded but couldn’t help asking, “What happens if there’s an emergency?”

He pulled back his jacket to show her the beeper on his belt. “They get my attention this way.”

She noticed that he waited for her approval before he picked up the phone again, leaving the choice up to her. Something her mother never did.

She nodded, not bothering to try to speak. All the talking was making her throat tight again. Besides, if she started talking, she might babble about her gratitude for his behavior. Normal behavior. It would tell him more than any words how difficult her relationship with her mother was.

When someone answered after he’d dialed the number, he greeted the person with warmth. Then he quickly explained that a friend was concerned about causing too much trouble by staying with him. He asked his housekeeper to assure his guest she wouldn’t mind. He handed the phone to Liza.

“Hello?” she said cautiously, her voice still husky.

“Hello, I’m Mrs. Allen, Nick’s housekeeper. I’ll be delighted to have a visitor. I never have enough to do.”

“But he says—”

“You’re a woman!” the lady exclaimed, interrupting her.

“Yes,” she said, waiting for the lady’s explanation.

“I’m sorry, but it’s been so— I mean, we’d love to have you stay with us.”

So the doctor had his own secrets? Somehow that made her feel better, though it should’ve worried her. “Mrs. Allen, I’m a patient of Dr. Hathaway’s, not really a friend. I hope that doesn’t bother you?”

“Not at all, dearie. It’s very quiet here. You’ll get a lot of rest. I hope he’s told you we’re redoing the house. But there’s a lull right now in workmen. The recent rains put them behind on their other job and they won’t be back for a week or two, so it will be quiet.”

“I see. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Not at all. Will you be— Uh, the guest quarters are quite private.”

Liza knew exactly what the woman wanted to know. And she wanted to make sure there were no misunderstandings. “The guest quarters sound perfect, thank you, Mrs. Allen.”

“Wonderful. What shall I fix for dinner? Is there anything you don’t eat?” The woman’s voice was filled with eager enthusiasm.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I have to stay here until after I receive a phone call, so you’d best not count on me for dinner. But I eat just about everything.”

Nick reached for the phone, his large, warm hand covering hers. She jerked back from his touch. She’d already discovered she liked it. Too much in the short time they’d been together.

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