“A week? But what if someone needs you? What if there’s an accident. You’re the best pediatric surgeon on the East Coast.”

Chris laughed. “I like that you think that, Cat, but there’s one or two other qualified doctors out there. This was a good time. For me. For us.”

She didn’t know what to think.

“Maybe,” he said, “it’s time for you to take that sabbatical, for real. When you’re done with this case.”

“Maybe,” she said.

Maybe he was right. Maybe everything would be better if she came home.

33

Liberty Lake
9:00 a.m. PT

“You didn’t sleep here again,” her grandmother said as she came into the kitchen. “That’s two nights.”

Kara was making oatmeal. She was probably one of the few people who actually liked oatmeal, but she only liked it when she made it herself. She had her favorite oats—not instant—and blueberries and honey. Sometimes when she was in the mood she’d add bananas and pecans.

“Want some oatmeal, Em?”

“You made it from scratch? Yes, thank you.”

But the distraction didn’t work. Em set the table and said, “So where have you been sleeping?”

“Sorry, Em. I didn’t think you’d notice. Late nights working.”

“Of course I noticed. You’re supposed to be on vacation.”

“I don’t like vacations.”

“Honey, you’re tired.”

“I’m fine.” Sleep was overrated. She rarely got more than four hours a night. Four hours was fine. Less than that and she was a zombie, more and she felt restless, like she’d missed something while she slumbered. She poured another cup of coffee. It was her third. She poured coffee for Em, with lots of cream and a heaping teaspoon of sugar.

“Thanks, dear.”

Em didn’t ask again, thankfully. She was very liberated about pretty much everything, but if Kara told her she’d spent two nights in bed with the same man, she’d want to meet him. Em would think there was something special, and Kara couldn’t explain to her grandmother that it was just really good sex.

This morning, she hadn’t wanted to leave Matt. She wouldn’t have minded enjoying a leisurely day, including morning sex in the shower and going back to sleep and then sex in the afternoon. But of course she left—Matt was in the middle of a murder investigation and while he might be able to spare an hour at midnight for hot sex, he would be hitting the ground running as soon as he was up.

Going to Matt’s room last night had been stupid and oh-so-right. No talking, just sex. Hot, satisfying sex. And she slept—she slept hard for four and a half hours, longer than any night since she arrived in Spokane. But her internal clock woke her at five. She watched him sleep for a few minutes, considered waking him for morning sex, then didn’t. He needed sleep because this case was intense, a ticking time bomb, and she needed to leave before she—or he—developed an attachment neither of them really wanted. She had one more week here, and he’d probably be gone before then.