Maybe if she napped on a pile of garden books, she could summon the bizarre dream. Hazy snippets danced through her conscious mind. She huffed a quiet chuckle. The notion of literally dreaming up a present for her folks was laughable. Still, they loved their yard and gardens. Who cared how the idea arose? A gazebo was the perfect gift.

She twisted her ponytail into a tight bun and let it fall over her shoulders. Navigating to the online catalog, she typed the keyword: gazebo. Dozens of titles flashed on the screen, and she scrolled the listings. Most were works of fiction with names like Darkness Falls on the Gazebo and Gazebo Tryst. Intriguing but wrong. Apparently, no one had penned How to Design the Perfect Gazebo for Your Parents’ Big Wedding Anniversary.

Unwilling to abandon her quest so quickly, she returned to the search screen and entered: garden architecture. A different dizzying array appeared. Grabbing the inferior pen, she jotted the most promising titles.

“Treatise on the Theory and Practice of Landscape Gardening. A little light summer reading?”

The whispered words heated her cheek. With a yelp, she whirled.

The whisperer hovered inches away in a polo shirt and khaki shorts.

She drew in a quick breath. Her plan for a long research day didn’t include an ambush by Dr. Suave. Resting an elbow on the desk behind her, she crossed her legs, hoping to communicate an unruffled composure she most definitely did not feel. Could he hear her pulse pounding? “What are you doing here?”

Richard’s lips rose in a smirk. “Surprised doctors actually read?”

She shot him a wry smile. “So, you didn’t learn everything you know from television?”

“Almost. But not quite.” He chuckled. “Actually, Claire and Tyler wanted a morning off, so I offered to take the kids to their coding class—”

She blinked. “I’m sorry, their coding class? How old are they again?”

“Eight and five.”

“Five.” She dropped the other elbow onto the desk and gave him a look. “Ambitious.”

He thrust his hands in his pockets. “Sam is almost six.”

“Oh, well, in that case. Claire’s idea?”

“Of course. Actually, it’s pretty great. After seeing what they’re doing, I’d be tempted to send my kids to a class like this.”

“I’ve no doubt it’s a fabulous little program,” she teased.

“These are the times, my dear. When our kids come along, I bet programming will be taught in preschool, if it isn’t already.” He leaned in close and studied the screen.

His cheek gave off a clean, citrusy scent with a touch of sunscreen. Her stomach executed an itty-bitty cartwheel. Not only was she surprised to see him—but she was surprised how happy she was to be surprised to see him.

Taking the mouse, he scrolled the list of books. “So, you’re a student of garden architecture?”

“Not really.” She swiveled and reviewed the titles.

“Horticulture then?”