She had seen Madison flirting with him and felt sorry the girl; she probably should have taken her aside and warned her, but Jonas’s orientation was nobody’s business. Certainly Madison’s flirting was nobody’s business also.

She realized he was waiting for an answer.

“I dumped him, actually.”

“Oh.”

“It was my fault, really. I just couldn’t overlook all the sleeping around.”

“Oh,” Jonas grinned. “Don’t stop now. Dish!”

She found herself telling him. How they’d met at a fund-raiser for the NEA. Both in their late thirties, both ready to settle, both wanting to get married.

But getting married wasn’t the same as staying married. Phillip had really wanted someone to go to events with, someone to be on his arm. A name on a mortgage application. The ability to check the “married” box on any form. Not a living, breathing, loving wife who expected him to stay out of other beds.

“The nerve!” Jonas mock-gasped. “You and your incredibly unrealistic expectations.”

“Right,” she said dryly, sipping her milk.

“What a dumbass! Man, if I’d known that, I never would have let Fred go out with him. No offense.”

“None taken. But could you have prevented Dr. Bimm?”

“Well… she only went because—I mean, she didn’t want you to—I dunno. It was, what? Six years ago?”

“About that, yes. Who is Dr. Bimm’s new friend? The large man with the red hair?”

“Oh.” Jonas’s blue-eyed gaze went vague, and he waved off something invisible. “Just some guy from out of town. Let’s get back to the dumbass you married. I mean, he’s got you and he’s out cheating?”

“Uh, yes. But I—” She looked down at her lap. She’d never see forty again, she didn’t get much exercise, she was devoted to her work, and she had worn her hair the same way since ninth grade. Why wouldn’t Phillip look for something a little

(younger)

fresher? Somebody like

(Madison)

a college student?

“I guess the thought of a long-term marriage just made him feel blue,” she said, her smile fading. Blue made her think of Dr. Bimm’s hair, and Dr. Bimm made her think of… “This man, he’s from out of town, you say? How does he know Dr. Pearson? And why were they all—”

“Shit!” Jonas leapt out of his chair, and she saw the dark stain spreading across his shirt.

She jumped, too, grabbed her napkins, and dabbed at him frantically. “Are you all right? Are you burned? Get that shirt off,” she ordered. Coffee burns could be nasty, even after all the silliness with the suit against McDonald’s. If she could get the hot cloth away from his skin in time, he might not be—

In response to her command, Jonas instantly stripped off his polo shirt, revealing a lightly furred chest, gorgeous pecs, nicely defined shoulders, and a by God six-pack set of abs.

She stared.

“I don’t think I’m burned.”

She stared.

“Dr. Barb? Am I burned?”

She stared some more.

He clicked his fingers in her face. “Dr. Barb? Come back now.”