"I used to work with a surgeon who's a friend of President Stoddard. He recommended me. I think he's a big-time fund-raiser as well."

No accent whatsoever—if anything, a hint of the South. Alison Cromartie either was American born or had one hell of an English teacher.

"So, have you had to take care of the POTUS?"

"POTUS?"

Gabe grinned. "When I got here, I thought I was the only one in the city who had never heard the acronym."

"Acronym? . . . Oh! President Of The United States. No, I met him once, but I haven't been involved in his care. I like the acronym, though. I'm always the last one to hear about anything that's in."

"There's even FLOTUS for the First Lady, for those who absolutely can't live without abbreviating things."

"Well, when the POTUS recommended me to the admiral—insisted he hire me would probably say it better—Dr. Ferendelli was still here. Then, soon after I arrived to begin work, he was gone. It's a measure of my personal growth that I didn't feel responsible."

"Aha, one of those! Another club we both belong to—the Loyal and Honored Order of I Would Have Been the Cause of World War Two If I Had Only Been Alive When It Started."

Gabe added Alison's smile and laugh to the list of attributes he felt drawn to.

"So, how's it been going for you so far?" she asked.

"This is only, like, my fourth day, but so far so good—except for all the protocol I've had to absorb, and that little exchange with Admiral Starch."

"That doesn't count."

"Did you hear the part about how I couldn't carry the military docs' medical bags?"

"I did hear that, yes."

"Actually, as far as I can tell, the military docs and nurses and PAs working in this unit are pretty damn good."

"I've been impressed with the same thing, but I'll bet you're a pretty darn good doc yourself."

"As far as I know, most of my patients and colleagues back in Wyoming think so. How about the stuff about my drinking, did you hear that, too?"

"I . . . um . . . tried not to."

Alison's blush was genuine.

"No big deal. It's been years—decades, even—since my last one."

"You don't have to justify yourself to me. My dad was in AA. He was Creole. Drinking was a way of life where he was raised. Besides, I'm in the habit of forming my own opinion about people."

"How'm I doing so far?"

"You were doing perfect . . . until you asked."

Again, that smile.

"Well, don't worry, I'm much less insecure when I'm running a code."

"Let's hope you never have to prove that to me here. But I have a feeling that in crunch time you can handle yourself pretty well."

Her expression gave the statement a thousand layers. Gabe was working, probably too hard, at formulating a response when his radio sounded.