“Judge McCracken, the patient I monitored all evening—he just crashed. They had to page me when I didn’t pick up my phone. I knew I should have kept it on me.” He shoved the end table back into place.

“I didn’t even hear it ring.”

“That makes two of us.” He shrugged into his coat with a grunt. “I know I’ve been preoccupied tonight. The judge was my father’s best friend. When I left, I thought he was stable.”

“I didn’t know doctors still had pagers.”

He let out a laugh. “You better believe we do. Cell service stinks out here in the boonies.”

“Of course.” She pulled herself from the chair.

“Damn it.” He clenched a fist against his forehead.

She laid a hand on his arm. “It’ll be all right.” Immediately regretting her words, she let her hand fall. He was a doctor. He knew. Sometimes, people were never all right again.

He lifted one shoulder and let it drop. “I’m sorry to cut short our evening.”

“Don’t be sorry. I understand.”

He drew up close and took her by the shoulders. “I can’t tell you how much I want to come home to you tonight, but I could be gone for hours.”

His hands were gentle, but his voice was rough.

He released her and strode to the wall-mounted tablet.

The lights and music faded—and with them, their date. She hugged herself, running her fingers over her upper arms.

“Come on. I’ll drop you off on my way to the hospital.”

Late that night, she tucked rainbow sheets under her chin as the walls and ceiling revolved around her. Moonlight streamed through the open window and lit the red, orange, and yellow stripes with a bluish tinge. She closed her eyes against the vertigo, but her bed dipped like a slow-motion funhouse ride.

Duty called before Richard could invite her upstairs—before she had a chance to say yes. Or no. When she was in his arms, woozy with the nearness of him, she felt like that decision had been made. But had it?

She rose to her knees and wrenched wide her window. Resting her forearms on the sill, she gazed over the yard. Night air stirred the curtains, and she lifted her chin to the cool.

Richard was available. Maybe every kiss would be interrupted by a summons from the hospital, but he was there—wanting to kiss her. Boxes of flowers, fine wine, and dancing lessons…the guy could teach a master class in wooing.

She hummed a few bars of “My Sweet Embraceable You” and eased back onto her pillow. He was wooing all right. She simply had to decide to be won.

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

A tourist’s guide to New York City hurtled across the living room and skidded under an armchair. A second one slammed into the wall and fell to the floor with a thud.