“But you tried.” She didn’t understand why he was so good to her, but she wasn’t willing to question it. From the moment she’d walked into his office, he’d befriended her, then seen her through the most difficult days of her life, all the while hardly leaving her side. No wonder his patients were so willing to admit they fell in love with him.

Sam’s heart throbbed painfully with desire. Marjorie’s wide eyes regarded him with such sweet gratitude that it seemed the most natural thing in the world to lean forward and press his mouth to hers. He didn’t, of course, but that didn’t stop his imagination from running rampant. He could all but taste her honey-sweet lips. He could all but feel her mouth shaping and fitting to his own, and her ripe body pressing against him.

Inhaling deeply to discipline his thoughts, Sam took a step back. Marjorie Majors had caught him completely off guard. Over the years he’d been subjected to every female ploy imaginable, but the majority of women who were interested in him were mostly concerned with the money he was making and the social position that would go with becoming his wife. They hadn’t soured him on marriage, but they had made him extra-cautious. He didn’t succumb easily to a woman’s charms, and he wasn’t about to start now. He was looking for a special woman to become his wife. A partner and a friend.

And now there was Marjorie. Her candor had caught him unaware. She was a natural beauty. Even without makeup and with her dark hair tied lifelessly away from her face, he couldn’t help being attracted to her. From the moment she’d angrily jumped off his exam table, Sam had been enraptured with her. Everything about her acted as a powerful aphrodisiac, but nothing could come of this attraction until after she was released from the hospital.

Sam left abruptly, but Marjorie was too busy eating her ice-cream bar to pay much attention. She sucked on the wooden stick until the last bit of chocolate had long since melted on her tongue, then carefully set the stick aside.

Dragging the IV stand with her, she walked slowly and carefully down the corridor until she reached the nurses’ station. There wasn’t any way to be tactful about what she needed to know, but she was in dangerous territory here, feeling the way she did about Sam Bretton.

“Ms. Powell?” she said as sweetly as she could.

“Yes?” Bertha Powell glanced up from the chart she was updating, and her eyes narrowed with displeasure.

“I’ve done five laps.”

“That leaves five more for this afternoon.”

“Right.”

The woman returned her attention to her work.

“Ms. Powell?”