Spin doctor meets ER doctor

Living in her Hollywood movie star sister’s shadow is hard enough! But as her personal assistant, Grace Jackson is continually repairing the swath of damage the diva leaves in her wake. And now her antics have landed her in the Texas Rescue ER! What Grace needs is to find her sister the perfect man—someone to dispel the rumor mill. Satisfy the paparazzi. But where could she find this superhero wannabe?

Enter ER doctor Alex Gregory: he’s dignified, gifted...and a bit of a nerd. Still, he has an eye for genuine people like lovely Grace. So he reluctantly agrees to let Grace make him over and help salvage her sister’s reputation. From geek to chic, Alex becomes a dazzling escort for a celebrity-studded charity ball. But Grace has to wonder: did she remake Alex for her sister—or herself?

She looked at the cypress tree again, a single tall pillar of green in the middle of an acre of asphalt.

A lonely pillar. “I wish I was as good as you are at imagining that everything will work out okay.”

He turned toward her, laying his arm along the back of the bench. She was aware that his hand rested on the bench just behind her shoulder blades, right behind her spine, the very spine she needed to stiffen.

“Is everything not okay with you?” he asked.

She didn’t want to have a spine of steel. She wanted to melt into his arms. “Isn’t everything not okay with everyone? We all have our little troubles, right? Everyone’s fighting their own battle.”

She was babbling, fighting the desire to lean into him, into Alex Gregory, MD, according to the embroidery on his coat. Can I call you Alex? Tell you all my worries?

“Grace, you can talk to me.”

Okay, that was a little scary. He was like the perfect guy.

But he was studying her again. She didn’t know when anyone else had ever looked at her so closely. She was only an assistant, for goodness’ sake. Keeper of the lipstick and the schedule. What was there for him to see?

* * *

Texas Rescue: Rescuing hearts...one Texan at a time!

Dear Reader,

I hope you enjoy reading this romance as much as I enjoyed writing the happily-ever-after ending. This hero particularly deserved to end up with the perfect woman for him, a heroine who is an optimist at her core. Of course, every hero deserves his heroine at the end, but I have a particular soft spot for this hero. He’s a doctor in an emergency room, and I felt I understood him because of my own experiences.

You see, once upon a time, I was in emergency services as a police officer. I became accustomed to the fact that every single call I answered, every single person I spoke to, was in trouble, whether they were victims, suspects—or just lost and needing directions! When I was off duty, that feeling persisted. If I saw a car at the side of the road, I assumed the driver needed my help. Always. This emergency-room hero feels the same way. Every day, all the people he interacts with need him to fix their problems, so when he meets the heroine, he assumes she needs his help, as well. Part of the happily-ever-after includes the hero’s realization that the heroine doesn’t need him—but she does want him. Her personal strength is as appealing to him as her pretty face.

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this story. You can find me as Caro Carson on Facebook and Twitter, or you can drop me a private email through my website at carocarson.com.

Cheers,

Caro Carson

Her Texas Rescue Doctor

Caro Carson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Despite a no-nonsense background as a West Point graduate and US Army officer, CARO CARSON has always treasured the happily-ever-after of a good romance novel. Now Caro is delighted to be living her own happily-ever-after with her husband and two children in the great state of Florida, a location that has saved the rollercoaster-loving theme-park fanatic a fortune on plane tickets.

MILLS & BOON

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This book is dedicated to my mother-in-law, Ilse, a woman who lives every day expecting happiness and good things. She deserves them.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

“Sophia, you have to put down your phone.”

“No.”

Grace Jackson gritted her teeth and held out her hand. “Yes, Sophia. Let me have it.”

Sophia tossed her blond hair, the perfect platinum blond that belonged to innocent young children, and jerked her phone out of Grace’s reach.

Grace struggled for patience. They were in a parked van. How long did Sophia think she could play keep-away with the phone? Sophia had never been easy to deal with, but this phase was particularly trying. At least, Grace hoped it was a phase.

Please, let this be a phase. I can’t survive this much longer.

“Look, Sophie. The firemen are waiting for us over there. They want to show you around.”

“Don’t care.”

Grace felt a little desperate. She thought about grabbing the phone, but taking a hard line with Sophia always backfired. For the past year, she’d been able to manage Sophia by persuading her with rewards. If you do this, you’ll get that thing you want... It was as simple as rewarding a toddler with a lollipop.

If only Sophia were a toddler.

Instead, Grace was trying to reason with a twenty-nine-year-old woman, a professional actress. After a decade of hard work, Sophia was now a genuine movie star. Grace had been her personal assistant through the hard times, the desperate times, the my-dream-will-never-come-true times. For the past two years, Grace had been with her for the even more stressful world of success, both critical and commercial. The world was Sophia’s oyster. And now...

Grace glared at the top of Sophia’s head, which was all she could see as Sophia sat on a bench opposite to her with her nose in her phone’s screen.

And now, there was no way in the world that Grace was going to placidly stand by and watch Sophia destroy her own dreams.

Grace snatched the phone out of Sophia’s hand.

“Hey!”

“I’ll hold it for you. What’s a personal assistant for?” She slid the phone into her tote bag. “The cameras are waiting. Photographers are everywhere out there. Smile.”

Sophie bared her teeth at Grace despite her annoyance; years of habit were hard to break.

“No lipstick on your teeth. No spinach.” Grace reached with two hands to fluff Sophia’s shining waves and used her fingertips to arrange a few naturally wavy tendrils along Sophia’s flawless cheekbones. “Perfect. I see a ton of teenage girls out there. Pose for some selfies with them, okay? A few minutes of smiles, and Sophia Jackson will start trending on Instagram and Twitter again.”

But Sophia didn’t want her lollipop anymore. She didn’t want to be a respected actress with a loyal fan base, not since she’d fallen in with the bad boys of Hollywood. “Let’s skip the squealing mass of girlies. What do I have to do before we can get the hell out of here?”

“Oh, Sophie.” Grace’s heart felt like a stone in her chest. It was a hard thing, very hard, to watch Sophia throw away everything for which she’d worked.

“Don’t start with me. What am I required to do? Tell me the bare minimum. I’m so freaking tired.”

Grace supposed clubbing all night could do that to a girl. Sophie coughed that annoying cough that had started shortly after dating Deezee Kalm, a DJ in Los Angeles. Grace always felt like she was choking on the secondhand smoke at his parties, when she was forced to go. Thankfully, Sophie hadn’t been photographed with a cigarette in her hand yet. Accusations would fly that she was a bad role model. That would tarnish her good-girl image, the very image Grace was trying to save with this trip to Texas.

“This is a really good cause. Texas Rescue and Relief has done so much here in Austin after those terrible flash floods last summer. You’re going to thank the firemen and the—the helicopter people, whatever they’re called—and some doctors, and then you’re going to cut the ribbon to reopen this health clinic.”

“Good God, Grace. Could you have booked anything more stupid?”

The stone in Grace’s chest wasn’t hard enough to deflect that stab of a knife. Don’t confront her. Don’t challenge her. Offer her a lollipop.

“Your hero, Julia, did almost the exact same thing after California’s forest fires. She trended on Twitter. Her visit was covered on all the celebrity gossip TV shows. Now her next movie is already getting award buzz, and it won’t be released for months. Coincidence? No way.”

Grace reached up to touch Sophia’s hair again, a comforting gesture she’d been doing her whole life. After all, she wasn’t just Sophia’s personal assistant. She was her sister.

Grace would be the worst sister in the world if she stood by and watched her sister self-destruct.

“I’ve already got a Golden Globe,” Sophia said.

“Julia’s got two. And an Oscar.” Grace nodded out the window toward the cluster of Texas Rescue personnel who were setting up the ribbon-cutting ceremony. “Go be Sophia Jackson, talented and gracious. You could jump in there and help set up right now. Everyone would talk about how down-to-earth you are, how you don’t stand on ceremony.”

But her superstar sister’s cell phone chimed in the tote bag.

Sophia snapped her gum. “Or you could give me my phone so I’m not stuck in the middle of nowhere with nobody to talk to.”

“Austin isn’t nowhere.”

And when did I become nobody?

Instead of defending herself, Grace defended their location. “Austin is a hot ticket in March, you know. It wasn’t easy to get a hotel room because South by Southwest just started. The director of Texas Rescue had to call in some favors in town.”

Sophia glared at her.

“You know South by Southwest. The fringe festival. Bands, indie movies, art—kind of edgy stuff. Why don’t I get the hotel to extend our stay for the week? This is a really hip event. We could have fun.”

“I know what the hell South by Southwest is. I just don’t care.”

Grace had always been the one who listened while Sophia brainstormed career goals. Grace tried to start a little session now. “Being seen here might add another dimension to your image. People might start thinking of you for projects that have more of an indie vibe, like a Juno or a Fargo.”

“I am not sticking around here for a week of low-budget fringe films, and I’m not going out there to cut a stupid ribbon until I absolutely have to.”

Grace knew better than to push the point. “Okay, we’ll chill out here in their van until they’re ready for you. Then you can go and shake hands like you’re Kate Middleton. They’ll love you, the studios will love you, and your agent will get you the best roles in the industry.”

“Are little bluebirds going to start circling my head while I act like a princess? This is seriously stupid.” Sophia gestured toward Grace’s tote bag. “Check and see if that’s Deezee on the phone. He wants me. Tonight.”

“He wants you? You mean...like...a booty call? He actually calls you to tell you when he wants...” Grace couldn’t finish the sentence.

“You are so last decade. Booty just means butt. By the way, Deezee says the bubble butt is last decade, so I’m not going to get the surgery now.”

Grace felt ill. She didn’t know Sophia had even considered having a plastic surgeon implant anything in her naturally perfect figure.

“He can tell if a girl’s had implants during sex. He’s so impressed that I haven’t had any work done yet.”

Grace wanted to stick her fingers in her ears and say not listening, just as she had when they were children and Sophia had explained the birds and bees to her. “I don’t want to hear about his sexual turn-ons.”

“Then stop being obsessed with my phone calls. Get your own sex life. When’s the last time you got any?” She shoved Grace’s tote bag with the toe of her spike-heeled sandal. “Back when people still used the term booty call, I guess.”

Grace had to look away. Her sister, of all people, ought to know that she had no social life. Managing all the little daily details for Sophia was a never-ending job. Sophia’s career dictated where they lived, who they saw, what they did—even what Grace wore. Her wardrobe consisted of dozens of outfits like the gray sweater and slacks she wore now. Years ago, she and her sister had figured out that wearing all black made Grace appear like a noticeable blot of darkness when she was caught in the background of a candid photo of Sophia, so Grace wore earth tones with a bit of heather, or sometimes gray with specks of beige and black. That was the best way to disappear into the background.

Not that Grace was complaining. She loved her sister. She only wished her sister would go back to being her normal self. When they were a sisterly duo, she hadn’t minded living Sophia’s life. This new phase was making her question everything.

She pretended the view outside the van was interesting, but the restored health clinic was only a normal-sized building in a normal suburb of a normal city. The ribbon-cutting ceremony was about to begin, so the men and women of Texas Rescue were taking their places.

She’d bet those people were married and had children and rewarding jobs. Grace and Sophia had once had that kind of normalcy, back when their parents were still alive. How could Sophia go from seeing their parents’ loving marriage to jumping at the beck and call of a no-talent egomaniac like Deezee?

Of the two of them, Sophia had always been the bigger sucker for true love and weddings and happily-ever-after. She’d put all that on hold for her acting career, until this winter with Deezee. Maybe this phase meant Sophia was lonely. Maybe Grace could help her find a better man. A normal man.

Grace gestured out the window. “Check out these Texas Rescue guys. This looks like a casting call for an action movie—but they’re real. I bet not one of those guys has chin implants or hair extensions. Real firemen and real doctors and paramedics and, um, police-looking guys. Rangers? What do you think that uniform is?”

“Like I care.” Sophia sat up straighter, ready to talk business. “Listen, Deezee is opening a new club tonight. He needs me there to help him get more press.”

Grace looked away from the handsome men of the real world. If Sophia wanted to talk business, they’d talk business. “Deezee could have his people contact me with a little more notice next time, and maybe we’ll be able to schedule an appearance, if his career needs help.”

Sophia’s expressive blue eyes narrowed angrily, but a fresh round of her club cough kept her from saying whatever retort she’d been about to deliver.

Poor Sophia really did look tired. It was up to her personal assistant to help her look good for this photo op, so Grace dug in her tote bag and came up with her sister’s very expensive, very red lipstick, the one Grace ordered for her and always kept on hand. “Here. And spit out your gum. It looks tacky when you speak.”

Sophia’s cough subsided. “Being with Deezee can do more for my career than this charity gig. Everyone will be in LA at the new club. No one is here. If you want me to stay visible in the industry, I need to be where everyone is. Duh.” Sophia plucked the lipstick out of Grace’s fingers.

Grace dropped her hand to her lap. Couldn’t Sophia see that Deezee’s club would attract the celebrities who were famous only for their ability to shock the public? Actresses would get out of their limos in a way that let the paparazzi document whether or not they wore underwear. Stars who were claiming sobriety would arrive drunk.

A man in a shirt and tie opened the door to the van. “Miss Jackson? Are you ready for your tour?”

Sophia ignored him as she gave Grace orders. “Book me a flight. Get me back to LA now. I’m going to cut this crap short.”

Grace closed her eyes, but it didn’t matter. She heard the man at the door suck in his breath.

Surprise. She’s a little more crude in real life than she was in her award acceptance speech, isn’t she?

Grace opened her eyes and looked at the man’s face. Yep. They’d just alienated another fan.

For the past two years, Sophia had been so gracious in her interviews, so fun on her television appearances. She’d set a goal to be as well thought of as Audrey Hepburn someday, and she’d pursued her dream with unwavering perseverance until now. Audrey Hepburn wouldn’t have told a Texas Rescue volunteer that she wanted to cut this crap short.

DJ Deezee Kalm would have, except he wouldn’t have used the word crap.

Sophia replaced the cap on her lipstick and tossed it so that it landed on the bench seat next to Grace.

“Your gum,” Grace reminded her gently, under her breath.

“Get me a limo to the airport. This van blows.” Sophia tilted her head back, pursed her lips, and with a poof of air, spit her gum to land on the seat, as well.

She got out of the van. Grace watched out the window as Sophia shook back her hair in the Texas sunlight, looking like a million dollars in a classic coat dress that cost eight thousand. Grace had secured it at no cost. The publicity Sophia could bring a designer was worth more than the price of the dress. For now.

The adults applauded, the teenaged girls who crowded against the plastic barricades screamed and cheered, but Sophia didn’t walk over to her waiting fans. Grace wished she hadn’t suggested it. Maybe her sister would have done the obviously right thing if she hadn’t felt like Grace was ordering her to do it.

Grace picked up the lipstick and returned it to the tote, then dug out a tissue and cleaned up the gum. What’s a personal assistant for, right?

Not this. She’d been her sister’s support, not her sister’s servant. But her sister was no longer acting like her sister. Sophia was turning herself into something she was not, all in an attempt to make a man love her.

Deezee didn’t love her—but Grace did. She’d dragged her from LA to Texas for her own good. Surely Sophia would come to her senses. Grace just had to find a way to keep her in Texas a little longer.

She sighed and looked out the window again, at the group of handsome men who were all shaking her sister’s hand. What if, instead of a Hollywood bad boy, Sophia fell for one of these men? Maybe one of the doctors, someone who was caring by nature, someone whose profession meant he was successful and respected, independent of her sister’s success. Wouldn’t it be lovely if Sophia fell in love with a guy like that? It would cure all their ills.

A handsome man from Texas Rescue could be just what the doctor ordered.

* * *

“Hi, I’m Dr. Gregory.”

Alex Gregory, MD, held his hand out to shake with the young boy who’d come to his emergency room with a sports injury.

The child’s father grabbed Alex’s hand instead and squeezed. Hard. “What took you so long, Doc?”

“I’m sorry for your wait. Things are unpredictable around here.” Alex extricated his hand from the bone-crushing grip. To restore some circulation, he made a fist and used one knuckle to push his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose. Then he spread his fingers out wide, and made a second attempt to engage his young patient.

“So, I’m Dr. Gregory, you’re Justin, and I hear that you came in because you got hurt. Can you tell me where?”

“It’s his leg, Doc. He’s got a big game tomorrow. We need you to patch him up to get him through. Maybe a cortisone shot and a knee brace.”

Alex kept his expression neutral for the sake of the little boy on the gurney. According to the chart, the child was eight years old. This parent was acting like his kid was an NFL superstar. “Justin, can you tell me where it hurts?”

The child looked up at him silently and pointed at his left leg.

“Okay, I’ll check out your leg. Anywhere else I should look?”

“My chin hurts, too. I hit it right here, and—”

“Just tell him the important stuff, son. Shake off the little things, like a man.”

Take it down a notch, Bubba. That was what Alex wanted to say. As Dr. Gregory, of course, he didn’t. Part of every accident evaluation included screening for head trauma, particularly since this child had just reported that he’d sustained a hit to the chin. The screening could be as simple as listening to the child relate his injuries logically and with clear speech.

In other words, the father needed to shut up.

Alex crossed to the sink and washed his hands in preparation for an exam. His little patient was so miserable and tense, manipulating that injured leg was going to be an ordeal, unless he could get the child to relax at least a little bit. Confronting his father would only make the child more tense.

Alex began drying his hands on rough brown paper towels. “So, Justin, how’d you hurt your leg?”

“S-s-soccer.”

“He was playing an aggressive forward position and he—”

Enough. Alex turned abruptly to face the father. In silence, he held the man’s gaze. It helped that Alex was as tall as the father. He certainly lacked the beer belly, but he looked ol’ Bubba in the eye. With his back to the boy, Alex let his expression show his disapproval as he dried his hands.

“—and he cut the ball back to this rookie, who...ah...” The father’s monologue came to a confused halt under Alex’s glare.

Alex crushed the paper towels into a ball and pitched them into the trash can. Deliberately, taking his time, Alex pointed at the chair in the corner. The father sank slowly into the empty chair.

Alex turned back to Justin. He started with the child’s arm, knowing it was uninjured and wouldn’t cause him any pain while he lifted it and bent the elbow, testing the range of motion, a way to let the child get familiar with the exam. “Do you play any other sports?”

The child darted a fearful glance at his father, making sure it was okay to talk. “Dad coaches me in basketball, too. Right, Dad?”

Dad hesitated and glanced at Alex before answering. “And baseball. We’re doing baseball this year.”

Justin looked from his father back to Alex. “And b-baseball.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of sports.” Alex hadn’t missed the child’s fearful glance. He took his stethoscope off his neck. It gave him the perfect excuse to lift the boy’s shirt to listen to his heart. He’d be looking for bruises, too. Usually, an overbearing soccer dad was just that, but sometimes that overbearing personality became violent, and children could be the victims.

“What sports do you do?” the boy asked.

Alex smiled a bit. Kids only knew their own worlds. If their world was an endless cycle of practices and games, they assumed everyone was involved in sports. Thankfully, little Justin had no bruises. His life with his dad centered on sports whether he liked it or not, but it appeared his life was free of physical violence. Not like Alex’s had once been.

“I’m not on any teams like you are. I ride my bike a lot, though.”

He could’ve felt the father’s derision even if he hadn’t heard the snort of disgust. Alex was used to it from a certain type of man. Alex had been raised in Europe, in the dangerous, crumbling Soviet Bloc. The best moments of his grim childhood had been seeing the professional cyclists in their brightly colored kits go whizzing through his town, training for the Tour de France. When Alex had escaped to America as a teen, he’d been shocked that his new schoolmates didn’t know any pro cyclists by name.

“I can ride a two-wheeler,” Justin said.

“Yeah? That’s great.” Alex started palpating the child’s good leg, picking up the diminutive foot in his hand and rotating it to test the ankle. “Do you have a favorite movie?”

The kid lit up like a lightbulb. “I like Star Wars. Do you know that one? And I like Guardians of the Galaxy. And I like Space Maze.”

“I’m going to bend your knee now.” Alex wanted to keep Justin focused on something else. “Who’s your favorite character out of the whole Maze world?”

“I like Eva. You know, Princess Picasso.”

Dad snorted again. “A princess? Goya the Destroya, that was the best guy in the movie.”

“But Dad, Goya was a bad guy. Eva was the good guy.” Justin looked ready to cry, and Alex didn’t think it was because his leg hurt him.

“So what? Goya kicked azzz...uh, butt.”

Justin showed a little spark of defiance. “Eva had a cool laser gun. She kept it hidden in her boot.”

Good for you, kid. You’re going to need that stubbornness with a father like yours.

Alex had liked the Eva Picasso character, too. “She was really brave. She saved her people from the maze. I’m going to need you to be really brave for a minute. I’m going to move your knee as far as it will go.” It was a matter of millimeters before Justin responded in pain and Alex stopped. He patted the kid on his good leg. “Do you remember what the princess kept in her other boot?”

Justin’s grimace relaxed a bit. “Yeah, that really cool knife that could cut right through anything. Even metal.”

“You’re talking ’bout the chick who wore the boots?” His father sat back, sounding relieved. “She was hot. Sophia Jackson, that’s the one. Okay, yeah, the boots chick was hot.”

“And brave,” Justin said.

“And brave,” Alex agreed as he stood up. “I don’t think the bone in your leg is broken, but I need to get an X-ray to be sure. It won’t hurt. An X-ray is a special kind of camera.”

“I know,” Justin said. “It can take a picture right through your clothes. Princess Picasso could get one with her boots on.”

Dear old Dad couldn’t help himself. “I bet the doc would love to get a picture of Sophia Jackson right through her clothes. Who wouldn’t? Am I right?”

Alex didn’t reply. What he’d like to see was Princess Picasso giving this Neanderthal one of her go-to-hell looks.

A brave princess in his ER?

That would make his day.

Chapter Two

Grace was a coward. She darted a glance around the van, petrified of getting caught.

Don’t be such a scaredy-cat. All eyes are on Sophia, anyway.

Grace pulled her sister’s phone out of her bag. What she was about to do was for Sophia’s own good. When the lock screen lit up, she tapped in the four-digit access code.

It was rejected.

The code was supposed to be the year Grace had been born. Although it surprised the few people who learned of it, Grace was actually the baby sister, only twenty-five to Sophia’s twenty-nine. Her big sister loved her. Her big sister used baby Grace’s birth year as her code. Only it didn’t work now.

How old was Deezee? Grace typed in his birth year. It worked.

The stab to her heart was starting to feel too familiar. With jaw clenched, Grace began deleting photos, horrible shots of her sister’s bare breasts covered by Deezee’s hands, shots that would never, ever end up on Instagram, not when she could prevent it.

Delete, delete, delete.

The van doors opened with a sudden rush of air. Grace dropped her sister’s phone like a hot potato.

A woman about her own age poked her head in. “Hi. You’re with Sophia Jackson, right?”

“Yes.” She blinked in what she hoped was an innocent way.

“There’s been an accident.”

For one horrible moment, the world stopped.

An accident. Careers and reputations and idiot boyfriends evaporated before the image of a hurt Sophia.

“Oh, my God.” The words were a whisper, but inside her head she was screaming. My sister, my sister! Their parents had been killed in a car accident. A stranger, a woman like this one, had come just this kindly to tell them there had been an accident. Grace had been fifteen. Sophia had been nineteen.

“It’s nothing life threatening, I promise. We have so many Texas Rescue doctors and paramedics and firefighters here, she’s being well taken care of, but they do think she should go to the hospital to have things checked out.”

The only reason Grace had survived the loss of her parents was because Sophia had been by her side, taking on the role of parent, loving her with all she had. But now Sophia had been in an accident, hurt badly enough that she needed to go to the emergency room. My sister, my sister!

“Would you like to ride in the ambulance with her?”

Grace clutched her tote bag as she scrambled out of the van. The fans behind the barricade were silent, wide-eyed. The yellow ribbon had been cut. Its ends flapped in the light breeze as the ceremonial scissors leaned against the building, standing on their points, forgotten. All the men and women in suits and uniforms were now by the open doors to an ambulance. The kind woman escorted Grace right through the little cluster. A paramedic offered her a hand up, and there Sophia lay, looking miserable on a gurney. Miserable, but very much alive.

Grace threw herself onto her big sister for a hug. “Are you okay?”

Sophia put her hand on her shoulder—and gave her a shove. “Don’t bump my leg. I’m going to sue somebody if this makes me miss Deezee’s party. Give me my phone. I need to call him. He’s going to freak when he sees this on Instagram.”

Deezee was going to be worried? What about me?

While Sophia lapsed into another coughing fit, Grace sat on the metal bench that ran the length of the ambulance’s interior. She slid her tote bag closer, slowly, buying herself time to get her emotions under control. For all of her life, she’d been the one whom Sophia had worried about. After their parents had died, they’d been afraid to be apart, afraid of the future—afraid they’d lose each other in a split second, the way they’d lost their parents. Sophia had let Grace crawl into her bed when she was afraid of the dark.

“You know, when they said you were in an accident just now, all I could think of was Mom and Dad...” The words hurt her throat.

Sophia went still and looked at her, really looked at her for the first time in ages. “Aw, Gracie.” And then, also for the first time in ages, it was her sister who reached out to fix her hair, smoothing Grace’s plain brown hair over her shoulder. It had once been blond like Sophia’s but had darkened in adulthood.

A paramedic jumped into the bay with them, a man who could get work as a body double for Thor. Grace said hello; Sophia ignored him. Doors slammed shut, and the ambulance began moving.

The cell phone in her tote bag rang. Her sister practically jackknifed into a sitting position on the gurney, which immediately made her yelp in pain and freeze in place. Still, she could give an order through clenched teeth. “Answer it. Hurry.”

“It’s mine.” Grace dug in her bag and silenced the ring.

“Hand me mine. Maybe Deezee called.”

Deezee never called. Sophia was to do the work. Sophia was to come and see him, at his convenience, without any notice. If Deezee saw a photo on Twitter or Instagram of Sophia being loaded into the back of an ambulance, he’d expect Sophia to call him and tell him the latest. Didn’t she realize that?

Sophia held out her hand and made a little grabby motion. “He’ll get pissed if I don’t tell him what’s going on. He’ll want to know what hospital I’m at.”

Or maybe Sophia did realize how little effort Deezee made, and she just didn’t know that wasn’t normal. Maybe she’d forgotten how Dad had treated Mom, once upon a time.

At any rate, Grace didn’t have Sophia’s phone. She’d tossed it aside in her haste to make sure Sophia wasn’t dying. She couldn’t say that, though. The phone should have been in her tote bag, not in her hand.

“It must have fallen out of my bag in the van.”

“You lost my phone?”

The paramedic chose that moment to interrupt by wrapping the black Velcro of a blood pressure cuff around Sophia’s upper arm. “Let’s get your blood pressure.”

Grace tried to reassure her sister. “I’m pretty sure I remember seeing it lying on the seat with your lipstick, actually.”

Sophia laid back with a huff, her life so inconvenienced by a handsome paramedic who was taking care of her. She glared at Grace, looking pretty fearsome for someone who was hurt badly enough to be in the back of an ambulance at the moment.

“It’ll be okay. We know it’s in the van, and I’m sure the Texas Rescue people will find it and bring it back to the hospital.”

“They’ll look at my personal stuff. You’re the one who is always so worried about what will get out on social media. You think those Texas Rescue people aren’t going to pass around Sophia Jackson’s personal phone for kicks and giggles?”

The paramedic didn’t like that, Grace could tell from the way he clenched his jaw. Neither did she. She wouldn’t lose her temper, though. Confronting Sophia never worked.

“They can’t see what’s in your phone.” She spoke as sweetly as possible, but she knew it sounded fake. It was her sister who was the actress, after all. “You have your phone locked. Our special secret sister code is still protecting it, right?”

Sophia opened her mouth, then shut it again, and looked at her through narrowed eyes. “Of course.”

The wall between them seemed just a little higher. Just a little harder to breach. It was a wall in the shape of a man. A stupid, worthless type of man, who was systematically pushing Grace out of her sister’s life.

Grace couldn’t imagine being so blind in love. If she were to fall in love, one thing was for certain: she would never, ever love a man who didn’t also love her sister.

* * *

Alex Gregory hated Sophia Jackson.

It was a shame, because she’d been a good actress in some excellent films. He’d be blind not to think she was attractive, but it had taken less than two sentences to determine that the person behind the famous face was rude and shallow.

“Good afternoon. I’m Dr. Gregory.”

“What took you so long?”

Rude.

But no more rude than young Justin’s father. Alex had pushed his glasses farther up his nose. “That seems to be a popular question this afternoon. We’re a little busier than usual during South by Southwest. What’s brought you in today?”

“Where the hell is my phone?”

And shallow.

Nothing during the exam was changing his first impression of her. While he examined her ankle, she complained about the facility. She’d been placed in the overflow area, an older part of the emergency department where the beds were separated by curtains rather than walls. This was, according to the not-so-noble woman who’d provided the noble face of Princess Eva Picasso, utterly unacceptable.

“It’s also unavoidable,” Alex said. “By definition, overflow area implies that all the other rooms are full.”

“When my personal assistant gets back with my phone, she’ll have me moved.”

Alex raised an eyebrow on that one. Not many patients brought along a personal assistant, at least not this far from Hollywood. Still, a movie star’s personal assistant had exactly zero influence on how the emergency department of West Central Texas Hospital ran. Alex took the stethoscope from around his neck and inserted the ear pieces.

“Oh, no, you don’t. You don’t get to slip your hand inside this dress. It’s my ankle that hurts. Do you think I don’t know that you’re dying to tell everyone that you felt me up?” Her indignation dissolved into yet another coughing fit.

Sarcastic comments flashed through his mind. You’re right. The stethoscope works just fine if I stand three feet away and aim it at you. We doctors have been lying about that for centuries, but you’re the one who figured it out.

But he was here to provide medical care for a twenty-nine-year-old female patient, not to teach a lesson in sarcasm to a movie star. “I’ll be able to hear your lungs through the material. Would you like for me to call in a nurse anyway?”

She crossed her arms over her chest, but leaned forward a few inches, granting him limited access. “You can listen to my back. Then go see if my assistant has found my phone yet. Your Texas Rescue people are probably hiding it from her.”

Just provide medical care. Alex put the chest piece on her back, which felt like the back of any other human, whether male or female, attractive or ugly, famous or obscure. Provide care, then get her out of here.

He heard the crackles he’d expected to hear. He flipped the stethoscope to hang around the back of his neck again, then slid the curtains back on their metal rings. “We need to get some X-rays, but you won’t have to move to a wheelchair. An orderly will roll your gurney down to radiology. There’s a bit of a wait right now, but the nurse will be in to check on you periodically.”

“You’re planning on wheeling me around the hospital in this bed? No, no, no. You need to bring an X-ray machine up here, right after you put me in my own room.”

“That’s not the way it works here.”

“My privacy needs to be guaranteed. Be sure you send my assistant back as soon as you see her. She’ll handle everything.”

Alex left without another word, snapping the curtains shut behind him. If Sophia Jackson had that much faith in her assistant’s ability to make a hospital bow to her whims, then that assistant must be even more of a harridan than Sophia herself. Dr. Gregory planned to steer clear of her. As the only doctor on duty, he didn’t have time to spend deflating some puffed-up bit of Hollywood hot air.

His most senior nurse, Loretta, was coming on duty. He’d let Loretta handle Sophia Jackson’s personal assistant.

Alex wanted nothing to do with her.

Chapter Three

“Dr. Gregory, we have a problem.”

Alex kept writing his notes on the patient in room three, but he nodded to his nurse to continue. Loretta had worked in the ER for so long that nothing shook her up. If Loretta was concerned, then Alex was concerned.

“Go ahead,” he said, as he signed his name for the twentieth time today and tossed the paper into the in-box on the nurse’s station.

“They just roomed another patient in the overflow area.”

“That makes two. The overflow area holds eight.”

“I know, but the beds are only separated by curtains in overflow.” Loretta lowered her voice as if she were about to tell a secret. “Sophia Jackson is in one of those beds. We’d better do some rearranging. Her assistant is asking about HIPAA.”

HIPAA, or hippah, as everyone called it, governed medical privacy. The harridan of a personal assistant had arrived, and now she wanted to threaten his ER with privacy regulations, did she?

“You know that the curtained area is considered HIPAA compliant.”

“Yes, but Sophia Jackson is famous.”

Surely his best nurse didn’t expect him to move a patient just to pander to someone famous. For the second time this shift, he felt as he had when he’d first come to America. The culture shock had been extreme. To survive the jungle that was the American high school, he’d quickly dumped his cycling stars and learned who the heroes of American football were. He’d killed all trace of his Russian accent. He’d worn blue jeans and Dallas Cowboy T-shirts, but all of that had been camouflage. Surface-level changes.

Deep down, he’d never quite caught that American mindset. To this day, he didn’t understand the fascination with the famous. Of all the traits a person might have, fame was one of the most useless. In his old life, rank in the political hierarchy mattered. Wealth mattered, for money bought power, and both could assure safety. Smarts mattered—a smart man could be valuable to those who held rank. But fame? Fame didn’t put bread in your belly when you were hiding from corrupt government officials. Fame didn’t pay for passage on a rickety ship to a country that didn’t want you.

“You know people will overhear you,” Loretta said.

“Then I’ll try not to call out her full name too loudly as I ask for her autograph.”

“Be serious, Dr. Gregory.”

He was always serious, even when the sarcasm slipped out. Sophia Jackson was famous and frivolous and nothing more. She’d be in no danger if her name slipped out, but she didn’t need to worry: Alex was not a man who let names slip. He could remember a time when his mother’s life had depended on his ability to keep her name a secret.

He paused, mentally closing the door on unwelcome memories. “Every room is full because you’ve got only one doctor on duty, so let me get back to work. Sophia Jackson will survive with curtains instead of walls. I’ve already examined her, so there’s nothing medical for anyone to overhear, anyway. If she doesn’t want anyone to overhear her other types of complaints, then she can stop complaining.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Loretta, one more thing. When the soccer kid in room three goes for his X-ray, make sure he doesn’t cross paths with Sophia Jackson. He’s a big fan of one of her movies, and I don’t—”

“You wouldn’t want him to bother Miss Jackson.”

“Actually, I wouldn’t want Miss Jackson to ruin his image of her.”

“Understood. By the way, her personal assistant is going to want to know how we’ll keep her identity a secret while we roll her gurney down to radiology.”

“If Miss Jackson doesn’t want to be seen, then perhaps her personal assistant would care to throw a blanket over her head.”

“I don’t get paid enough to deliver that message.”

Alex sighed. “I’ll talk to her assistant myself.”

* * *

Grace was very aware that a new patient had been placed on the other side of the curtain, a woman who’d barely answered the nurse’s questions with more than a syllable. There was a man with her, too, who’d loudly done most of the talking. Now that the nurse had left them alone, he was keeping his voice to a vicious whisper, but Grace could still hear him.

She wished she couldn’t.

“You already know what I’ll do to you, bitch. You want to see what I’ll do to your kids?”

Grace looked at Sophia in a panic, but she was lying on her bed, twisted away from her, typing madly away on the precious phone Grace had retrieved.

The unseen man on the other side of the curtain was obviously trying to be quiet, but he wasn’t quiet enough for Grace’s ears. “You tell the doctor you fell down the stairs. Say it. Now.”

“I f-fell down the stairs,” the woman said. “But we don’t have stairs.”

“The effing doctor doesn’t know that, you dumb-ass.”

Grace was paralyzed in her vinyl chair. She’d be horrified if this were a movie scene, but this was even worse. This was real life, and she was no Sophia Jackson heroine. Grace didn’t know what to do.

“Say it again, like you mean it.”

“I fell down the stairs.”

“Smile when you say it. You get me in trouble, I will hunt your kids. You send me to jail, and they’re dead when I get out.”

Grace couldn’t move. Couldn’t make a noise. The man clearly didn’t know someone was sitting inches behind him on the other side of a cloth curtain. If she made a sound, he would.

What would he do? Would he hurt those children that were apparently waiting somewhere in a one-story house?

Frantically, she reached forward to tap the mattress of her sister’s gurney, but her sister only hunched her shoulders and kept tapping away on her screen.

“Don’t worry,” the woman said, sounding so pitiful as she tried to soothe the man who had hurt her, who was threatening her still. “Everything will be okay. You can trust me, you know you can. I would never want you to get in trouble. I’ll fix everything.”

On her gurney, Sophia coughed.

Grace froze.

There was utter silence on the other side of the curtain, and then the curtain was pushed aside. “Who the hell are you?”

She had to do something. Her sister’s back was to the angry man, so before Sophia could roll over and reveal her famous face, Grace jumped to her feet and faced him. “We’d like some privacy.” She dared to grab the curtain and whisk it shut, right in the man’s face.

The silence on the other side of the curtain was more frightening than the angry whispers had been. Her heart was already pounding out of her chest when she heard more curtains being pushed aside on their metal rings. Not hers—the ones next door.

“Good afternoon, I’m Dr. Gregory. What brings you in today?”

“I fell down the stairs.”

Her sister chose that moment to emerge from her absorption in the phone. “How slow is this place? Didn’t you tell them to bring the X-ray machine up here?”

Frantically, Grace put her finger against her lips to silence Sophia. Shh, shh, shh...

“What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” Grace leaned in close to her sister’s ear, so she could whisper. “I want to hear what they’re saying next door.”

“What for?”

She cringed. Every normally spoken word sounded like a trumpet blast to Grace. She could hear the man doing most of the talking next door. The woman’s voice sounded so timid. The third person, the one who’d said he was Dr. Gregory, had a better voice. Calm and confident. He spoke with the good cheer of someone who didn’t know his patient was in danger.

“We’ll need a few X-rays because you might have one or more fractures. There’s a bit of a wait for radiology right now.”

Sophia spoke loudly. “This X-ray is taking forever.”

Grace whirled around and pleaded for silence with her finger on her lips. It figured that Sophia had just now started paying attention.

Dr. Gregory kept talking. “While you’re waiting, Mr. Burns, you can get the paperwork taken care of. You’ll be able to leave sooner that way.”

The curtain rings made their sliding sound again.

“Loretta, perfect timing. Could you show Mr. Burns to admin while we’re waiting to take Mrs. Burns to X-ray? He needs to fill out the spousal consent forms.”

“The spousal consent forms? If you’ll just follow me, Mr. Burns.”

After another swish of curtain rings, the violent Mr. Burns was gone with the nurse.

“We’ll take care of you,” Dr. Gregory said to the woman. “It might have sounded like I was rushing you out of here, but you can stay as long as you need to.”

Grace held her breath, willing the woman to tell the doctor the truth while her attacker was gone. She heard only silence.

“I’ll be back shortly.” The doctor was leaving.

Grace needed to be brave. She should do something. Say something.

But she didn’t. She was no superhero. Maybe she could write a note and pass it to a nurse or something...

Behind her, Sophia called out. “Dr. Gregory.”

There was an audible sigh in the aisle. Then it was their curtain that was being pushed aside, and a man far younger than Grace had expected stepped into their little space. He was around thirty, bespectacled and bearded. Not the trendy kind of full beard that men in Hollywood were wearing this year, but the dark shadow of a man who’d perhaps worked a twenty-four-hour shift.

“Yes, Miss Jackson?” He sounded as tired as he looked.

Sophia began complaining. The doctor listened to her sister’s demands without a flicker of emotion on his face, without so much as a blink of his eyes behind his brown plastic eyeglass frames. His white overcoat looked too big on him. He didn’t look like a man, frankly, who could handle the vicious Mr. Burns, but—

But, actually, he did.

There was something very Clark Kent about him. Tall, dark and handsome could have described him if he were in Superman mode, but as Clark Kent, he was too unassuming to be eye-catching, not the way he stood with his hands stuffed in the square pockets of his lab coat. Still, although he might not have bothered to shave, his jawline was defined, and the blue of his eyes was only dimmed a little bit by the glare of the fluorescent lighting on his eyeglasses.

It was the look in those blue eyes that gave Grace hope. He saw right through her sister. He wasn’t flustered by her beauty and he didn’t look awed to have a movie star in his presence. In fact, he was looking at her with quiet disapproval. If he could see through the celebrity aura that surrounded Sophia Jackson, maybe he could see through Mr. Burns. Grace just needed to be brave enough to tell him what she’d heard.

“So, um, you’re her doctor?” she began, forcing herself to smile when it was the last thing on earth she wanted to do at the moment.

He turned that blue gaze directly on her. A small eternity of silence followed.

“Of course he is,” Sophia said, exasperated. “I told him you’d fix everything when you got here. I need a private room. These curtains are so ghetto.”

He didn’t take his eyes off Grace, but he raised one dark brow behind the brown frames. “You’re the personal assistant?”

Clearly, he wasn’t impressed with her. She felt badly about that, another little dagger of hurt to push through. “Dr. Gregory, could I speak to you somewhere else? Somewhere private?”

“No.”

Grace blinked. “I really need to speak to you alone.”

“There are no other rooms available, and there is nothing you can say that will make radiology move more quickly. As soon as her X-rays are complete, you’ll be discharged with treatment instructions, and you can seek out all the privacy you desire somewhere else.”

He left.

Sophia’s outrage drowned out Grace’s disappointment. She yelled “Doctor” once more, but the doctor wasn’t coming back.

Grace sank back into her chair, a failure.

“What do you think you’re doing, Grace? Go after him.” Sophia was loud for someone who prized her privacy. She gestured toward the ice packs on her leg. “I can’t get up and walk out of here. You have to.”

“He already said no.”

“This whole trip was your idea. Go fix it. What’s a personal assistant for, right?”

Chapter Four

Alex headed straight for the staff’s kitchenette. There were patients to be seen, lab results to read, decisions to be made, but he was only one man. He needed a break—and coffee. Just three minutes, that was all he’d give himself. Three minutes for a little caffeine and a chance to regain his emotional equilibrium after dealing with Mr. Burns, the scum who’d beaten his wife.

Gut churning, Alex walked past the coffee to the cramped locker room that was attached to the kitchen. The room barely had enough space for a few metal lockers and a single cot, but the door had a small sign which euphemistically declared it to be the physician’s lounge. He pushed a gym bag out of the way with his foot on his way to the sink. The water ran hot almost instantly.

The patient had not fallen down a flight of stairs, that much was obvious from her bruising. Alex had needed to pretend he believed her story, though. Abusers wouldn’t stick around after an accusation, and they often convinced their victims to leave before they could be treated. Alex had started the hospital’s official process, and he hoped the victim was ready to take advantage of the assistance the hospital could provide.

The system worked. He’d seen it work. But to use an American phrase, that first step was a doozy. The first step required Alex to smile and be cordial and shake hands with a man he was certain had beaten his own wife.

Alex scrubbed his hands in the sink. He was no actor, but he deserved an Academy Award for keeping up that facade of friendliness. To test his patience further, a real actor, Sophia Jackson, had decided to waste his time by chewing him out for problems that weren’t even problems.

Alex scrubbed harder. Hot water, soap and vigorous friction could kill almost anything.

The woman on one side of the curtain had been a victim of a crime. Sophia Jackson, on the other side of the curtain, had been a victim of nothing more than her own stupidity and stubbornness. According to the Texas Rescue volunteers who’d brought her in, she’d decided to cut short a tour of the rebuilt clinic by storming off the path, stomping over the orange netting that marked off the rubble left behind by last year’s floods. They’d called after her and warned her to stop, but the paramedic said she’d ignored everyone.

Alex could believe it. It seemed the movie star was nothing more than a miserable person who made everyone around her miserable, too. Her personal assistant looked to be the most unhappy person of them all.

He stopped scrubbing and let the tap water flow over his hands. The personal assistant hadn’t been what he’d expected. Instead of a hard and edgy shark, she looked like an angel. The expression on her heart-shaped face was open and hopeful. Everything about her had seemed inviting. Her hair looked soft and touchable, a shade of gold so dark, it was nearly bronze. The overhead lighting had reflected off that gold, and Alex had been momentarily dazzled by her halo before he’d realized who she was. Only then had he noticed the subtle, anxious way she was twisting her fingers together.

Apparently, even an angel could be stressed out. It would take the patience of a saint to work for Sophia Jackson.

He used a paper towel to shut off the faucet. If the angelic woman was stressed out by the demands of Sophia Jackson, he couldn’t help her. Since she was with the movie star, he could only assume that she enjoyed her job. Fame was alluring to most people, perhaps even more so to personal assistants. After all, they made a living by helping someone famous keep their famous life running smoothly. Princess Picasso’s assistant was no exception.

He grabbed a coffee mug, feeling annoyed with himself for being annoyed at all. It shouldn’t matter to him one bit that an angelic-looking woman who happened to pass through his ER was letting a movie star run her ragged. It was no business of his whether or not she thrived by facilitating someone’s fame. Coffee was all he wanted.

The door opened after the most timid of knocks. “Excuse me, Dr. Gregory. I’m so sorry to bother you.” The assistant stuck her angel face in the crack and smiled at him hopefully.

Speak of the devil.

“This area is employees only.”

She bit her lower lip with perfect white teeth. “I know, I’m sorry.”

He set down the empty mug. So, she was appealing. They had nothing in common and would never see each other again after another sixty minutes, give or take, so he called upon his medical experience to act dispassionately and moved to the door.

“I really need to talk to you,” she said.

“There is nothing you can say that will change how this hospital operates.”

You stay in your world, I’ll stay in mine. He put his hand on the doorknob to shut it.

“Wait.” The angel had more determination than he’d expected. She thrust her whole arm and shoulder in the door. “There are no stairs in her house.”

He knew, instantly, that she was not telling him about Sophia Jackson’s house. Surprise kept him silent.

“I heard her say so. I’m talking about the woman next to us. The man that was with her hurt her.” She was breathless in her anxiety to tell him what she knew.

Alex opened the door and ushered her in with a gentle touch on her arm, a brief brush of her soft gray sweater under his hand. He shut the door in an automatic move to protect patient privacy. Still, it seemed intimate to be alone with this woman in this little bit of an inner sanctum. “I understand. That’s why I arranged to have him removed from her treatment area.”

She didn’t seem reassured. “He’s only filling out paperwork. Spousal consent forms.”

She really had heard every word, then—and remembered them. “Spousal consent forms are a code in this ER. It means the spouse has to leave the treatment area. I’ve seen enough patients who have fallen down stairs to recognize the hallmarks of that type of injury.”

“And she didn’t have them?”

He shook his head silently. He was bound legally and ethically not to describe a patient’s medical condition to a stranger. The assistant obviously knew some details already, but he couldn’t tell her more.

“How long does it take for him to fill out the forms? He’ll be back any minute.”

“Security will explain that he can’t reenter the treatment area. Doctor’s orders. When the next room with walls and a door opens up, the patient will be moved there. I can’t tell you more than that, but I assure you, she will have a chance to talk to me in private.”

“She won’t tell you anything.”

Sadly, the assistant was quite possibly right. Victims of domestic violence were often silent in the hope that the situation would improve if they helped their abuser. “I hope you’re wrong about that, but we’ll give her every chance, every safety net we have available. You and I need to end this conversation now, because—”

Because of patient confidentiality, of course. But he didn’t finish the sentence, because what had popped into his head was because you’re already too appealing. Her compassion toward a stranger only increased his regard for her.

It didn’t matter. He had no interest in pursuing a woman when no relationship was possible. Flirting was something else he’d never quite understood. It was a waste of time to indulge an attraction to a woman who lived in another state, let alone a woman who built her life on the shaky ground of fame.

The assistant furrowed her brow, determination stamped on her lovely face. “You can get her alone in a private room, but she won’t tell you anything. She has children. He told her he would kill them if she talks.”

The kitchenette door started to open beside them. He stopped it with the palm of his hand. “A moment, please.” Without looking to see who it was, he pushed the door shut. All his attention was for the assistant. “You heard this? He actually said he’d kill her children?”

“He was inches away from me on the other side of that curtain. I heard every word. He said if he goes to jail, he’ll kill the children as soon as he gets out.”

She looked up at him with fear and worry—and something else. Hope. She was looking at him as if she hoped he would be able to fix this terrible situation. The desire to touch her again, to physically soothe her, was completely inappropriate. That wasn’t how a doctor helped.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you willing to relay this to the police?”

“I hadn’t thought about police.”

This protective streak was strong. He didn’t want her involved in what could become a volatile situation. “The injuries are already enough to trigger social services, and that will include removing the children from his custody. I appreciate everything you’ve told me, but you don’t have to do anything else.”

“No, I’ll talk to the police. That poor woman. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try to help.”

“Not everyone feels the same. You’re very brave.” He felt a little sloppy bit of tenderness toward her, despite the way he was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, scowling at her. He cleared his throat and tried for a more neutral expression. “What did you say your name was?”

“It’s Grace.”

“Grace.” Of course it was. Grace was a blessing one did nothing to deserve, milost’ in his mother’s language. He’d done nothing to merit its presence in his emergency department today, but Grace was here, being an ally for a stranger in a dangerous situation.

She tugged the hem of her soft sweater an inch lower. “Well, thanks for your time.”

A brave princess had shown up in his ER after all—just not the one he’d expected.

He liked this one much better. “Thank you for being so persistent. I apologize for being so curt. I can tell you’re worried, but you’ve done the right thing. I’ll take it from here.”

“What about the police?”

“If they need your statement, we’ll do that with as much privacy as possible, I promise. I don’t want you to risk anything if you don’t have to.”

“Thank you.”

Grace left, slipping easily around the nurse who was waiting outside the door.

“Loretta asked me to tell you that we’re taking Mrs. Burns down to X-ray now. Room three is ready to go, if you could discharge him. The social worker is on her way over.”

Alex would have to get his coffee later. As he headed down the hall toward room three, Grace was about twenty feet ahead of him on her way back to the curtained area. Her plain clothing allowed him to enjoy the feminine shape of her. He knew firsthand that her sweater felt very soft, and her slacks were tailored over the curve of her backside.

The voice of Princess Picasso came shrieking down the hall. “You have got to be kidding me! Why is that woman getting an X-ray before me?”

Grace broke into a jog.

Alex shook his head as he entered room three. How could an angel who was so brave subject herself to a celebrity who was so selfish?

* * *

“Here’s your macchiato.” Grace hiked her tote bag a little higher on her shoulder and held up the cup of coffee she’d spent fifteen minutes locating, ordering, paying for and bringing to her sister.

Sophia was talking on her phone, and waved her into silence. The part-skim half-caff macchiato with the shot of regular caramel syrup and sugar-free vanilla syrup which she’d just had to have was not quite as important as her phone call, apparently.

Grace was tempted to place it on the bedside table and leave the table where it was, at the foot of the bed. Sophia would need her then. She’d have to interrupt her phone call with Deezee to ask Grace to roll the table closer.

Immediately, Grace admonished herself for being such a baby. What kind of sister would even think of placing something where a person with a broken leg couldn’t reach it?

“You asked to see me?” Dr. Gregory entered their little curtained cubicle and stood at the foot of Sophia’s gurney, next to Grace.

Grace put the coffee down. She wasn’t normally klutzy, but she felt a little flutter now that Dr. Gregory was here, so it was better not to be holding a scalding-hot beverage.

Really, she needed to squelch this little Clark Kent crush. The man was on the job, caring for a battered woman somewhere else. Caring for her own injured sister, too, and who knew how many other people who were sick and in pain. Yet she felt a little buzz of excitement that he was here, despite knowing that her sister shouldn’t have demanded to see him.

“The doctor decided to finally show up,” Sophia said into her phone. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

Grace stole a glance at Dr. Gregory. He pushed his glasses up with one knuckle. He had a perfectly neutral poker face in place, but Grace had the fanciful thought that the move meant he was ready for battle.

Sophia took the phone away from her ear and pointed it at the doctor accusingly. “I heard them talking next door. You know what they said?”

Grace held her breath. What had she missed while she’d been looking for gourmet coffee? The horrible Mr. Burns must have returned. Or perhaps Mrs. Burns had decided to unburden herself to a nurse, and Sophia had overheard everything.

“Your janitor told another janitor to take the patient’s belongings to room three. That patient is getting a room? Seriously? When I’ve been waiting here with nothing but curtains all this time?”

Grace interceded before Sophia could make a fool of herself. “Sophia, it’s okay.”

“No, it is not. I was here first. She got taken for an X-ray before me, and now she gets a goddamned room before me.”

“Sophie,” Grace begged quietly. “The cursing.”

“Goddamn won’t even get you a PG-13 rating.” Sophie pinned the doctor with her glare. Really, it was a sneer. Grace hated to see Sophie sneering like that. If she could take a photo, make Sophie see...

“I demand a private room, for obvious reasons.”

“There are none available.” Dr. Gregory didn’t sound upset or intimidated by Sophia’s behavior at all, not like Grace was.

Sophia must have heard that almost bored note in his voice, too, because she hesitated, just for a second, in the middle of ramping herself up for a good old-fashioned hissy fit. She gave it a go, anyway. “Even if I didn’t need extra privacy, which you know I do, I should have been next. I’ve been waiting longer.”

“That’s not the way it works in a hospital. She needs the room more than you do, and there are patients who require my presence right now more than you do.” He stepped back and grabbed the curtain, ready to leave. “Was there anything else?”

“More than I do?” Sophia’s voice was getting high-pitched in her outrage. “I suppose you decide that?”

“I do.”

Grace felt a little chill go down her spine at the quiet confidence in those words. She looked at Dr. Gregory again, at his calm profile, his unwavering gaze.

He can handle anything. He can handle Mr. Burns. He can handle my sister.

Then she realized he’d turned to her, locking gazes with her for the briefest of moments, just long enough for her to imagine he was silently asking her to keep Sophia under control.

I wish I could.

“You’re just leaving?” Sophia sounded incredulous.

Grace wished she had as much control over her sister as Dr. Gregory seemed to think she had. She put a hand on her sister’s good ankle and patted her reassuringly. “Thank you, Dr. Gregory. We’ll stay right here, then, until a room opens up.”

He nodded at her. “I’ll be back.”

Grace hoped he’d be quick. His hair was shaggy and he needed to shave—yesterday—and his glasses weren’t chic geek, just geek. His white coat was two sizes too big, and yet he looked like a hero to her. Somehow, when Grace stood next to Dr. Gregory, Sophia seemed less intimidating, but he was gone with a slide of metal curtain rings, and Grace was left to manage her own personal movie star.

“Where the hell is that macchiato?”

Hurry back, Doctor. I need you.

Chapter Five

Grace wanted Dr. Gregory.

What she got was a frighteningly competent nurse named Loretta. The nurse seemed to be just as unimpressed with having a movie star for a patient as Dr. Gregory was, but still...

It would have been nicer to have Dr. Gregory by her side.

Sophia’s ankle was not broken, the nurse reported, but she would need to wear a hard plastic medical boot for a week. The nurse removed the ice. She’d brought a few sizes of the plastic boot to try. By the time the correct boot was strapped around Sophia’s lower leg, poor Sophia was clutching Grace’s hand in real pain.

Nurse Loretta gave Sophia a pill for the pain, something Dr. Gregory had apparently foreseen the need to prescribe, then Grace and Sophia were alone again. This time, Grace perched on the edge of the bed, and they did yoga breaths together while they waited for the pain medicine to kick in.

“We could do ‘breath of lion,’” Grace suggested.

“The dumb one where we stick out our tongues?” But Sophia made a funny face at Grace as she said it, one that always made Grace laugh. “Hope no one with a camera sees us.”

The sarcasm, the cursing, the defiance had all disappeared in the last half hour. Grace stuck her tongue out and panted. Sophia did, too, but they couldn’t keep panting with straight faces.

“Ohmigod, we look dorky,” Sophia said, and the sound of her laughter was music to Grace’s ears.

My sister is back.

Grace could have cried in relief. It was so good to be needed again—no, not needed. She was always needed. It was good to be wanted again. Sophia wanted her by her side.

Sophia’s laugh turned into another round of coughing. Grace winced in sympathy; her sister’s ribs had to hurt from the force of her cough. Sophia sank back into her pillow. She’d never looked more pitiful, not even on screen when she’d died as a pioneer woman to great critical acclaim.

Grace smoothed Sophie’s hair over her shoulder. “Can I get you anything?”

She attempted another smile, a wobbly bit of bravery. “Just don’t leave me again. I need you here.”

“Of course.”

I wish Dr. Gregory could see us now. He hadn’t been very impressed with Sophia so far, that much was clear. When she’d complained about Mrs. Burns moving to a room, Dr. Gregory had thrown Grace that last look, the one that said Can’t you keep her in line?

It nagged at Grace. Maybe the look had been more like How do you put up with her? Maybe the look had been simply disappointment with Grace. Or puzzlement. Why do you help someone who is so rude?

Because I love her. She’s my sister. She’s my whole family.

But, of course, Dr. Gregory didn’t know that, just as Sophia didn’t know anything about Mrs. Burns’s dangerous situation. If she did, then of course she’d be content to wait a little longer. With a crinkle of the plastic-covered mattress under her, Grace scooted closer to her sister’s side, ready to confide in her.

“Ouch! Don’t bump me. Sit on that stool.”

“Sorry.” Grace slipped from the mattress onto the doctor’s rolling stool, trying not to feel sad at how short-lived their shared laughter had been.

It wasn’t Sophia’s fault. She was still in pain, and the pain was making her irritable. Really, she was acting as normally as anyone would in her condition.

Grace leaned closer, too aware of the curtains, although no other patients were around now. “Listen, something kind of scary happened while you were on the phone with Deezee. The lady that was in the next bed—”

“The one who got treated better than I did?”

“I don’t know about better. Maybe faster, but there was a good reason. Let me tell you what happened.”

Mrs. Burns’s sad tale had exactly the effect that Grace had known it would. Sophia was subdued, silent. Probably, like Grace, she was thinking how fortunate she was to have been born into a loving home, where the concept of Daddy hitting Mommy was unimaginable. This afternoon was a vivid reminder that other children were not so lucky.

“Then I’m glad they moved her,” Sophia said.

“I know. Me, too.”

“That would have been a mess, if the two of them had started fighting again. People would have come running, and these curtains wouldn’t have kept us hidden. Hell, the guy could have thrown her right into our cubicle or something. I can’t be involved in that kind of thing. Can you imagine the shock on everyone’s faces if the curtain had come down and they’d seen Sophia Jackson lying here?”

Grace was silent. That wasn’t exactly the empathy she’d expected.

“Martina is threatening to leave me if I’m involved in any fights,” Sophia said. “She told Deezee the same thing.”

Martina was a publicist, and one of the few people whom Sophia still seemed to listen to. Then again, Martina had been Deezee’s publicist first. She’d introduced the two of them, actually. It was yet another reason that Grace doubted Deezee had any real affection for Sophia. She’d been awfully good for improving his damaged reputation. He’d had the opposite effect on hers—so now Martina was helping Sophia, too, for a hefty retainer fee.

Sophia let go of her hand and pushed herself into more of a sitting position. Her pain was clearly lessening. The medicine must be kicking in. “What time is our flight? I’m ready to get out of here.”

I’m not.

Grace wanted to stay here, where Deezee and publicists had no importance. Here, someone else was in charge.

The curtain rings slid open, and Dr. Gregory walked in, laptop under his arm. Intelligent, empathetic, authoritative—Grace wanted to run to him and cling to his hand.

She stood up to let him have his rolling stool, but he waved her back down and took the straight chair on the opposite side of the bed. When he asked Sophia how her ankle was feeling in the boot, he seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say. His bedside manner, when he was literally bedside, was sympathetic and focused on the patient.

Then again, what man didn’t focus on Sophia Jackson? The two of them looked quite striking together. Maybe not at a glance—Sophia had on that killer coat dress and her hair still looked fabulous after a couple of hours in a hospital bed, while Dr. Gregory was kind of lost under his baggy coat and shaggy hair—but they both had vividly blue eyes and really great bone structure. They’d make beautiful babies together. Beautiful, intelligent, talented babies.

Another stab to her chest caught her by surprise. Jealousy? She couldn’t be jealous of the attention Sophia was paying to Dr. Gregory. The idea of Dr. Gregory and Sophia together ought to make her happy.

“The ankle will heal, as long as you don’t push it too soon. That’s the good news.”

“There’s bad news?” Sophia asked, half playful, half fearful. Clearly, she’d decided to try being charming and pleasant. She was succeeding.

Dr. Gregory opened his laptop. “Let’s look at that chest X-ray.”

Grace’s heart squeezed again at the sight of their two heads leaning over the computer screen together. The good news? He’d make a wonderful brother-in-law. The bad news? Her sister was too shallow to look past the surface to see what a quality guy the doctor was.

I can see it.

Yes, but you aren’t the one who needs to see it.

Grace snapped out of her conversation with herself. Chest X-ray? Sophia hadn’t mentioned that she’d gotten her chest X-rayed along with her ankle.

“I have pneumonia?” Sophia sounded very skeptical, but she was looking at Dr. Gregory in a whole new way, like maybe he did know something she didn’t know, after all.

Dr. Gregory smiled kindly at her, an appealing little crinkle of the corners of his eyes behind unattractive brown frames. “Walking pneumonia is the common term, because younger adults tend to get this particular kind, and they keep gutting it out and going to work despite feeling sick.”

Oh, Sophia liked that implication that she was a trooper, Grace could tell. The show must go on, and all that jazz. Sophia relaxed back on her pillows a little bit.

“See this cloudy part of your lung? That’s fluid accumulating in a place air should be. I could’ve diagnosed pneumonia on your lung sounds alone, to be honest, but since you were going into X-ray anyway, it was best to have your lungs checked out.”

For weeks, Grace hadn’t been able to persuade Sophia to take care of that cough, but Dr. Gregory had been able to do something about it. Still, Grace was astounded at the pneumonia diagnosis. She’d thought the cough was bad, but she hadn’t expected it to be that bad.

“How long have you been coughing?” Dr. Gregory asked.

Sophia looked to Grace, the keeper of all mundane information. “How long? A couple weeks?”

Dr. Gregory looked at Grace, as well, waiting for her answer.

Grace felt that little flutter again that came with having his attention on her. “At least a month. It started shortly after...after we got back from Vegas.” She’d been about to say shortly after you and Deezee were caught in the police raid on that club, but she didn’t want to remind Sophia of something that would make her feel bad. Sophia had apologized for that already. Besides, she was finally showing her good side to Dr. Gregory, and Grace wanted him to see that her sister was a good person.

“I had pneumonia for a month and didn’t know it?”

“I imagine you’ve felt worn-out every day,” Dr. Gregory said, his attention back on Sophia.

Sophia nodded, managing to look like a martyr without looking overly dramatic at all. She was a great actress.

“But you’ve kept working anyway?” he asked.

Another nod.

Grace should have felt her usual amusement at how Sophia could have anyone eating out of her hand. Instead, she felt a little irritated. Sophia had been working only if one counted clubbing as work. The pile of scripts that represented future work kept stacking up, because Sophia had been too tired to evaluate new projects after running around with her boyfriend. Today’s clinic opening had been the first actual work Sophia had done in weeks, and she’d tried to cut that short.

She had a good reason for that. She must have felt awful. She’s really sick. What kind of sister am I to hold it against her?

Dr. Gregory nodded at Sophia in what surely looked like approval. “You need to take a break, starting today. Pneumonia won’t go away by itself. I’m going to discharge you with some antibiotics. You’ll want to see your own physician once you finish the medicine to be certain your lungs are clear, but in the meantime, you need to rest. Drink more fluids than you want to, and don’t skip any pills, even once you start feeling better.”

Discharge her? He was sending them away with some pills and a plastic boot? Grace felt a little panic. She didn’t want to start negotiating an airport with a sick sister in a wheelchair. Her sister had laughed with her a few minutes ago. She was being positively pleasant to Dr. Gregory now. Texas was good for her. They needed to stay right here.

“You shouldn’t fly again until we’ve had a chance to clear up some of this fluid in your lungs,” Dr. Gregory said.

Yes! The man was a miracle. Forget clinging to his hand. Grace wanted to throw her arms around him.

Sophia’s radiance dimmed. “I have to get back to LA right away.”

“Even in a pressurized cabin on a commercial airliner, the demand on the lungs increases. This fluid is making things difficult enough for you here on the ground. How did you feel on the flight here?”

“Ohmigod, I felt terrible, actually. I was so tired and I had such a headache. I thought it was just a crappy flight.”

You thought it was all my fault, like I’d booked a flight just to torture you.

“You probably weren’t getting enough oxygen.” Dr. Gregory closed the laptop. “Low oxygen saturation can cause those symptoms and more. Irritability, confusion and eventually loss of consciousness.”

“Irritability?” Grace repeated without thinking.

To Grace’s surprise, Sophia held her hand out to her. “Oh, Grace, I really took it out on you during the flight, didn’t I? I said some mean things. I’m sorry.”

Grace took her hand. Squeezed. This was the second time she’d gotten to see the nice side of her sister again—and Dr. Gregory was here to see it, too. Maybe now he wouldn’t give her that puzzled look. This was proof that she didn’t work for an uncontrollable diva. The longer they stayed in Texas, the more like her old self her sister became.

“We didn’t know I had pneumonia, though, did we? I’ll make it up to you. I promise to be extra nice to you on the plane tonight. It won’t happen again.”

“No, it won’t,” Dr. Gregory said firmly. “You can’t fly tonight. Your ankle injury is taxing your body more than you might think. Between that stress and the pneumonia, you’d almost certainly be oxygen deprived again.”

Sophia blinked at him. “But you can give me something for that, can’t you?”

“For oxygen deprivation?” One corner of Dr. Gregory’s mouth quirked upward. “Sure. It’s called oxygen. You carry a tank of it with you and stick tubes up your nostrils so you don’t pass out at thirty thousand feet and force an emergency landing.”

Sophia’s hand slid out of Grace’s to land on the blankets with a little plop. Grace looked closely at Dr. Gregory. His poker face was good, but Grace could have sworn he was getting some satisfaction out of setting Sophia straight.

He stood and tucked the laptop under his arm. “Carrying an oxygen tank aboard would require some planning with the airline in advance. It’s only allowed when the patient absolutely must travel. I’m not going to authorize it. Your ankle needs to stay immobilized and elevated, as well. I’ll write a medical excuse for you, so the airline won’t charge you to reschedule today’s flight.”

Double yes. Grace wanted to pump a fist in the air in victory. He couldn’t have been more crystal clear. They were grounded, stuck in Texas. Who needed Superman when Clark Kent was doing the job so perfectly? Oh, God—was she smiling?

Grace bit her lip. Karma was surely going to get her. She’d wanted to get away from LA and stay away, and now Sophia was both injured and ill—but neither too seriously. Perfect.

Yikes. She was such a bad sister. To assuage her guilt, she pulled out a notebook from her trusty tote bag and started a new list. Flights would have to be changed. The hotel would have to be extended. She’d ask the concierge at their Hollywood condominium to hold the mail, or possibly deliver it here, depending on the length of their stay.

She looked up from her notebook. “How long are we staying here, then?”

“You should give the antibiotics a week. When she’s breathing easier and her cough is better, you can fly.”

“A week?” Sophia closed her eyes and pressed her fingertips to her forehead, overplaying her role a bit, in Grace’s opinion.

“It could take you a month or more to feel a hundred percent back to normal, so don’t be surprised if the fatigue continues on well past a week.”

“A month?” Grace couldn’t keep the happy anticipation out of her voice as she flipped to a fresh page in her notebook. “Oh, Sophie. I’ll find us a real house, a vacation rental for a month. I’ll get our clothes sent here, and line up some grocery service, and—”

“No.” Sophia opened her eyes and glared at her from under her fingers. “I already told you I didn’t want to stay an extra day. I won’t be able to stand a week. Don’t make one of your damned lists for anything except getting me back to LA.”

Grace pretended she couldn’t feel the disapproval Dr. Gregory was sending her sister’s way. “We don’t have a choice, Sophie. It will be good for you. You’ve been burning the candle at both ends.”

Sophia snapped her fingers. “Book Deezee a flight. He can come out here and keep me company.”

No, no, no!

“There’s plenty of room in our suite.”

It would be a nightmare. There’d be bottles of tequila everywhere, a man who referred to women as his bitches ordering Grace to fetch food and find limos for the strangers he’d invite up to their suite. There’d be noise complaints and hotel security and charges assessed for property damage. Grace would be scrambling around the clock. She couldn’t take it, she just couldn’t do it.

Dr. Gregory, she realized, was watching her intently. Her hand was shaking. She pressed the pencil into the notebook to steady it, so it wouldn’t give her away. If she got angry, if she said no, Sophia would be dead set on yes. She needed a new tactic. Quick.

The tip of the pencil broke, a little black scribble on her paper.

“Grace,” the doctor said, “could I speak—”

“Isn’t pneumonia contagious?” She tried not to sound desperate.

His easy bedside manner was gone, but his stilted answer was still courteous. “Pneumonia isn’t contagious, but the bacterium that causes it is. Someone who comes in contact with her might develop any type of infection from it. Sinusitis, bronchitis. Those could lead to pneumonia.”

“Are you kidding me?” But whatever else Sophia had been about to say was lost in a coughing jag.

Grace brushed the broken pencil lead off her notebook page. She could leverage this. She could tell Deezee that Sophia was contagious, although he was as bad as Sophia, doing the opposite of anything Grace suggested. She could tell their publicist. Sophia and Deezee both listened to Martina...

“Grace, could I speak to you for a minute?” Dr. Gregory asked.

She looked up at him. He was much taller than she was, so she’d been looking up at him all afternoon, but he seemed like a giant now as she sat in the chair. “Of course.”

“What for?” Sophia croaked, not quite done with her cough.

“Alone?” he added.

Sophia grabbed Grace’s arm, making the pencil drag across the page. “You said you wouldn’t leave me again.”

Sophia looked so genuinely distressed, Grace didn’t have the heart to point out that she’d left her to fetch the cell phone and left to fetch the caramel non-van half-caff macchiato because Sophia had ordered her to. Right now, she looked like a little puppy that needed protecting.

Grace looked from her sister’s blue eyes up to Dr. Gregory’s. He seemed so solid, so calm. He had the authority to deny air travel, to order medical tests, even to protect a woman from an abusive spouse.

He could help her.

She stood. “Don’t worry, Sophie. I’ll be back in a minute.”

With a slide of metal curtain rings, she left with Dr. Gregory.

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