“I want you to do it again.”

Diane stepped closer until her chest pressed gently against his. Hale slid his arms around her, pulling her closer still and cupping her backside. Diane’s mouth opened and she uttered a weak moan. She put her arms around his neck, lifting her lips blindly to find his kiss.

It was just what she needed then, hot and deep and all consuming. Their lips worked together with a deliberate slowness that left her dizzy and disoriented. Hips touching, they were separated only by her bikini briefs. Together their breathing melded and hissed like a whisper in their ears with a growing urgency. The prelude was rich with promise, and they took their time to enjoy each movement and touch. The intensity was building until they both felt it in the rush of blood through their veins, the throbbing in their groins that edged toward release.

Suddenly Hale pulled his mouth free, momentarily teasing her lips with the tip of his tongue. Her breasts were so tender and sensitive they ached.

“Do it again,” she pleaded.

Promises in Paradise
Sandra Kitt

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Dear Reader,

I cannot think of a more romantic setting for a story than an island in the Caribbean. For those of you who have visited many of the islands as I have, you know what I’m talking about! The pure aquamarine sea and serene white-sand beaches alone are worth the price of admission.

My favorite island has always been St. John, one of the three U.S. Virgin Islands. I’ve returned there dozens of times. Not only that, but some of my most memorable (and romantic) vacations have taken place there, so it was an obvious choice as a rendezvous point for my hero and heroine in Promises in Paradise.

I hope you are swept away by the magic of St. John and the thrill of the love and romance in Diane and Hale’s story.

Take care,

Sandra Kitt

Chapter One

Uttering an obligatory thank-you and grabbing the claim ticket from the valet, Diane Maxwell took a deep breath and began to hurry down the street toward the minimalist and very modern entrance of the Maryland Museum of African American Culture in Baltimore. She knew the title was much longer than that, but she didn’t have time for formality…or to remember.

Instead, she concentrated on not twisting her ankle in her three-inch dress sandals, or getting the heel caught in the hem of her gown.

It was cold. Much colder than Diane wanted to accept, even though it was the second week of December. She was dismayed and annoyed that her breath expelled in a chilly vapor. Yet she would not admit to the vanity and poor judgment that had her out for the evening with nothing warmer than a cashmere shawl wrapped artfully around her shoulders, and no panty hose.

She’d reasoned that she was only going from her car to the entrance of the museum, but she hadn’t counted on the valet stand being a city block away. She was already beyond late for the gala function being held at the beautiful facility, but her running-walk had more to do with the goose bumps rising on her exposed arms.

Diane slowed her pace and stopped in front of the museum entrance, covertly straightening the bodice of her gown. She tucked her evening clutch under her elbow and quickly shook out the yards of silk that made up the skirt. She squared her shoulders and tried to give the appearance of a woman of poise and presence and not the tomboy hoyden she was once known as. But there was no audience for her little pretense or her grand entrance.

Once inside the glass doors she was immediately assailed by the warmth and met with the hum of conversation from an upper level of the museum.

“Good evening. Thank you for coming tonight.”

Diane turned to the voice to her left, where a reception table had been set up. Behind it sat a lone woman, her folded hands atop a spreadsheet of the names of guests attending the function. She smiled a greeting in return and approached the table. The matron was attired in an overly bright red dress, with a rhinestone pendant necklace lost in the cleavage of her bosom.

“May I have your name, please?” the woman asked, her fingertip poised to run down the list.

“Maxwell. Dr. Diane. I’m here in place of my father, Adam Maxwell.”

“Maxwell…Max…yes, here it is. Oh, he’s one of the special guests tonight.” She placed a check next to the name.

Diane glanced quickly around the empty entrance.

“Am I very late?” she asked, accepting the card calligraphed with her father’s name and a table number.

“You’re the last to arrive. They just started serving dinner, but you know how the folks are,” the woman said with a knowing smile. “The reception ended late ‘cause they couldn’t get people to stop drinking and talking.”

Even as she explained Diane could hear one voice over a microphone introducing herself and welcoming everyone to the annual dinner.

“You better hurry.” The woman chuckled. “It’s embarrassing to walk in when someone is talking.”

“You’re right.” Diane grinned sheepishly.

She lifted the skirt of her gown and, graceful and athletic, took the stairs two at a time, stiletto heels, rustling silk and all.

“Be careful!” the woman whispered loudly behind her.

At the top of the stairs Diane regained her composure, dropping the skirt and again shaking out the fabric. She looked inside a large darkened room that had been set up with some twenty tables, each capable of seating ten people. She wasn’t paying much attention to the speaker, an elegantly dressed woman about her own age, making opening remarks about the event. Instead, Diane was aware that it wasn’t going to be that easy to find her table now that the lights had been dimmed. But she took heart in the fact that the first course was being served so no one would be any wiser to her late appearance.

“Can I help you?”

Diane turned to another voice and this time found a young man waiting to assist her. He held out his hand and she realized he wanted her table card. After briefly scanning it he pointed to a table across the room.

Diane sighed. The table was, unfortunately, among those right in front of a raised dais. She gave the young man a charming smile.

“You know, it’s not that important for me to sit there, is it? I’m sure I can find a seat somewhere else. Maybe near the back…”

“I’ll escort the lady to her seat.”

Diane whipped around to find a tall man calmly regarding her. In an instant three things became apparent to her. He was superbly outfitted in a tuxedo that did justice to his shoulders and to a certain haughtiness in his features. She knew who he was. And she wasn’t happy to see him.

There was a fourth thing, but Diane purposefully ignored its manifestations. It caused a sudden flutter in her stomach and a dry mouth. But again, instantly, she returned to her first observation. The tux forced her to fast-forward her memories and impressions of Hale Cameron from rough, street-smart and sullen to this sudden real-time urbane and sophisticated presence. The unexpected time warp was startling.

“Oh. It’s you.”

“Diane,” he acknowledged.

She stared, caught off guard. He said her name with both surprise and familiarity. It was that second recognition that caused Diane to change, her eyes hardening and her mouth grimacing in annoyance.

“Fancy running into you,” he drawled, his gaze never leaving her face.

Diane quickly experienced a very unwelcome sense of exposure and vulnerability, as if he’d hit a nerve. Deliberately or not. She didn’t like her reaction at all.

“This certainly is the last place I expected to see you, Hale,” she said, staring him down.

He raised his brows but didn’t take the bait.

“I knew your father was on the list tonight. I was looking forward to seeing him. Sorry he couldn’t make it.”

Diane knew he was fishing for more information but she was not about to be chatty and pleasant to him.

“Something came up.”

“I believe you,” Hale said smoothly. “Adam would have gotten here on time, and wouldn’t slink in late.”

Her sharp retort died on her tongue. There was suddenly applause in the room beyond, bringing her back to the present. Diane pulled herself together, but only to turn her back on Hale as he watched her, his expression amused.

“I’ll find my own seat,” she said firmly to the assistant at the door. She turned back to Hale and gave him a frosty stare. “Yes, I’m late but it was unavoidable. My father will understand.”

“I’m sure you count on that.” He nodded, taking a large gulp of wine from a glass he’d been holding down at his side.

Hale then summarily handed the empty glass to the assistant, who had stood silently listening to the verbal sparring.

“I’ll escort her to her seat,” Hale said again.

“Look, I don’t want—”

Diane stopped abruptly rather than create a scene when an elderly couple appeared out of the darkened dinner hall, obviously about to leave. Spotting Hale, their faces lit with warm smiles, they called and reached out to him. The woman offered an overly rouged cheek and the man, probably her husband, took Hale’s hand to shake.

“Sorry we have to leave, Hale. Getting too old for these late nights,” the man said in a tired, gravelly voice.

“We certainly weren’t going to leave before having that very expensive dinner we paid for,” the wife said with false indignation.

They all laughed as Diane stood and witnessed the exchange. In a way she was fascinated by the affection that the older couple obviously held for Hale and that he seemed to have for them. In all fairness, she recalled that this was the way Hale had always been toward her father, Adam. And her father toward him. Holding Hale in high regard. Talking about him and praising him…ad nauseam.

She tried to move quietly away but only succeeded in drawing the couple’s attention.

“Mr. and Mrs. Hightower, this is Diane Maxwell,” Hale finally introduced her.

Again there was applause from the room and some laughter. Diane tried to ignore it and smiled graciously at the couple regarding her with mild curiosity.

“Dr. Maxwell,” she clarified, more for Hale’s sake than the older couple. “It’s nice to meet you but don’t let me interrupt. I see you’re leaving, and I really need to go in…”

“You’re Adam’s daughter. I’ve heard so much about you,” Mrs. Hightower cut in, beaming at her. “From Adam, of course. We were so hoping to see him tonight.”

“He knows how to work a room,” Hale commented.

Mr. Hightower chuckled. “He sure can. He also knows how to separate folks from their money for one cause or another.”

Diane, faced with such adoration, smiled wanly. “I know I’m a poor substitute…”

“Oh, not at all, young lady. You’re a very pretty one,” Mr. Hightower said.

“I’ll let my father know he was missed.”

She stood aside then, as goodbyes were now shared between Hale and the couple and they made their way to the elevator to leave. Diane did not wait for their final departure, but turned to the gala room in hopes of finally slipping into a vacant place at any of the tables near the entrance. She knew that it was inevitable that some people did not make it to these events and there were a number of empty seats.

Before she could reach a nearby table, let alone greet the occupants and apologize for arriving late, someone placed a hand at the small of her back and was firmly guiding her along between the tables and toward the front of the room. Nonplussed, Diane glanced over her shoulder and found Hale close behind her. They were halfway into the room. To stop and object now to his interference would have caused a commotion and embarrassment. Diane, seething with helplessness, had no choice but to allow herself to be directed.

When they reached her table, Hale pulled out her chair, holding it until she sat down. She smiled a greeting to those who glanced her way as she whispered her apologies. She settled herself, actually glad that the minor ordeal was over. She looked over her shoulder in time to see Hale take a seat several tables away.

She was very curious to know why he was even there.

Unlike the occupants of her table, who were much older and the vanguards of another generation of philanthropists, Hale’s table was filled with men and women his own age. The four or five women were all attractive, beautifully dressed and seemed to have a lot to say to him, vying for his attention…which, Diane noticed, he didn’t deny them. The men also seemed to hang on his every word, with respect and interest and easy camaraderie.

Diane made a little sniff of indifference and turned to answer the waiter who wanted to know if she desired red or white wine with her dinner.

Thankfully, she considered, being late had spared her the need to listen through most of the program, leaving only award presentations and acceptance remarks. One of those awards was for her father.

When the announcement was made for the Joshua J. Abernathy Humanist Award for excellence in education, Diane stood to make her way to the stage. As she did so, hoping not to trip over audio cables or someone’s feet, the evening’s MC expressed relief that she had finally arrived, fearing that the one seat at the reserved table would remain empty and the award mailed in absentia to its recipient. Mild laughter followed these comments as Diane reached the podium. Allowing the applause to die away she realized, looking out over the audience who were all staring at her, she’d never prepared any remarks.

“Actually,” Diane began after she’d accepted the Revere Bowl and the envelope containing the award check and posed for a quick photo with the museum president, “I got lost.”

Her honest and guileless opening received genuine laughter. She stood looking lovely and unflustered and pleased with herself for having charmed them.

Take that, Diane said to herself, knowing Hale was in the audience watching. Probably hoping that she’d mess up.

“My father always says I am directionally challenged, but a great swimmer and generally acceptable as a daughter. So, I’m forgiven my few shortcomings.”

There was more laughter from the audience and she relaxed, thinking quickly on her feet. She would be brief and succinct and do Adam Maxwell proud.

“My father sends his regrets at not being here tonight. There was an unavoidable conflict. It’s my pleasure and honor to be here in his place. As you know Adam Maxwell has always been supportive of Into the Future programs and the great work you do in furthering the opportunities for black youngsters to pursue education and their dreams. He’s very moved to be recognized with this award for his work, but says he doesn’t deserve it. I agree.”

There were some chuckles, but it was obvious that the audience was taken aback by this pronouncement.

“My father would be the first to waive the praise and say he’s only doing what desperately needs to be done. Along the way in his life and career there were people to guide and support him, believe in him. He feels he’s simply returning the favor. Paying it forward, so to speak.

“Nonetheless I am most humbled, and very happy to accept on his behalf your appreciation of his work and contribution. Also on my father’s behalf, I will be donating the monetary award to your organization to be used to further your mission. Encouraging black students who might otherwise have limited opportunities for a productive and happy future.”

The audience came to their feet and showed their surprise and approval with enthusiastic sustained applause. Diane stood regal and still, glancing out over the guests with a genuine smile.

“Thank you, from my father and from myself. Again, I apologize for my late arrival but I wouldn’t have missed tonight for anything.”

She turned and left the stage, stopping only briefly to accept thanks from the director of Into the Future for the gift of her father’s award check. The applause continued until she took her seat.

As she did so Diane hazarded a glance over her shoulder to Hale’s table. Everyone around him had taken their seats but he was still standing and applauding until the end, his expression indiscernible in the dimly lit room. She hoped she achieved total indifference to his response as she sat down again. But she knew Hale’s gaze followed her.

The presentations continued. Diane found that as she was being served her dinner everyone else had pretty much finished. She covertly ate enough of the duck confit and asparagus, artfully tied with a strip of red pepper, to quell her growling stomach before she allowed her plate to be removed. She slowly sipped her wine, giving her something to do as conversation happened around her. She was steadfast in her resolve to ignore the quiet but constant buzz of talk and laughter coming from Hale’s table.

She focused her attention on the stage and podium, to others receiving awards and giving thanks. Having performed as she’d been required to, Diane realized she was also no longer the subject of admiring glances, appreciative smiles or even mild curiosity. She felt suddenly, oddly, out of sync with the evening and everyone around her. And alone, as if she didn’t belong.

Inexplicably, she blamed Hale Cameron for her feelings.

As the dessert was being served, Diane picked up her fork and carefully broke off some of the tiramisu but she couldn’t really enjoy it. She was suddenly acutely aware of Hale and his presence in the room, and his relationship to her father. And how her acceptance remarks, off-the-cuff and sincere and totally inadvertent, had been a lot about him.

Seeing him at the entrance to the gala room had stunned her and caught her completely off guard. The tall, self-possessed, rather good-looking man in formal attire had confused her. Seeing him so suddenly, so unexpectedly, had disturbed history and rattled her expectations. She didn’t know what to make of this person, this apparition who seemed to have morphed from her memories into a different being.

Suddenly the man seated to her left, unaware, knocked her evening clutch off the table as he shifted in his chair. Diane quickly bent to retrieve it and took yet another opportunity to check out the table behind her and to the right. Hale had his arm resting along the top of the chair of a woman next to him as he leaned close to hear what she was saying. The woman, petite and—as much as Diane hated to admit it—adorable, had her lips very close to Hale’s ear and his undivided attention. Diane faced forward once more, placing her bag in her lap. She pushed her dessert plate away.

The evening was beginning to seem endless.

It had certainly never occurred to Diane that she would ever seen Hale Cameron again, let alone at this kind of evening that had brought out many of D.C.’s black education elite. It had been…what…more than ten years since they’d spoken to one another. Yet his name and the evolution of his life had been an indelible part of her own, thanks to her father.

Diane knew that she and Hale lived in the same city, D.C., but didn’t move in the same circles. She’d worked hard to make sure their paths would never cross. But even if she’d wanted to never see or hear the name Hale Cameron again in her lifetime, the chances were slim to none.

In all honesty, Diane considered dispiritedly, as laughter rang out from Hale’s table, it would not have been because of her father’s liking for the younger man but all because of her own steadfast lack of it.

Hale covertly checked his watch and stole a quick glance at the printed program in front of him. Two more awards and then it will all be over.

He tried to roll his shoulders back to ease the tightness across the top. He crossed his legs as he lounged back in his chair, his tux jacket unbuttoned. He looked to the temporary stage as the next presentation was made, but out of his peripheral vision there was no avoiding a full-on view of Diane as she sat listening to the proceedings. Elegant. Queenly. Beautiful. Bitch.

Hale hurriedly uncrossed his legs and sat up straight. His jaw tensed with the sway of his thoughts.

That was totally uncool, he told himself in irritation.

His glance strayed in her direction again. It had been a long time. Years and years, and then some. And yet, he was genuinely stunned by the difference between then and now, at least physically, as he tried to adjust his thinking, his memories, to fit the moment.

He mentally shook his head. In another way he was also sure that nothing had changed. At least, between the two of them. From Diane’s very cold attitude to her biting comments, he might just as well have been dead to her.

Hale considered their peculiar history and the awkward melding of their lives. He knew everything about Diane Maxwell. Far more than she’d appreciate his knowing, more than was comfortable from his point of view. All of which, however, had only served to keep them connected over the years, like an invisible umbilical or Bungee cord.

The woman seated next to him shifted slowly in her chair and sighed. Hale immediately bent toward her.

“Everything okay?”

She nodded, taking a tiny sip of water. “I’m getting a little tired.”

“We can leave now if you want.” He placed his napkin on the table and began pushing his chair back. She touched his arm.

“No, not yet. It’s almost over, Hale. I can wait.”

“Are you sure?”

She smiled at him in the darkened room. “Believe me, if I wasn’t, you’d be the second person to know.” She patted his arm, and gave her attention back to the front of the room.

Satisfied, Hale relaxed. His gaze wandered back to Diane.

She’d cut her hair.

He remembered a wild mane of thick but loosely textured natural hair that he used to call her Diana Ross wannabe look. She’d hated his teasing, thinking herself far more original. In truth, Hale had to admit that Diane had never really been the kind of girl who fussed over her looks or worried about her hair. Especially since she was a swimmer. Long ago it was more that she was comfortable with her own natural appeal and never felt the need to play on it, and it didn’t need improvements. Studying her now, it was obvious that had changed.

The woman she’d become was…he couldn’t even say it. He couldn’t find the right words because they would be so foreign to what Diane used to be and what he’d known of her. The girl was gone. The fearless, but awkward and innocent teenager had been replaced in a major way. Hale may not have been able to get his memories straight around it, but his present state of mind was another matter.

Uncomfortable with having been forced back into the past, he was anxious for the evening to be over.

Even as the applause started on the closing remarks of the hostess and MC, people were getting up, saying good-night to one another and heading with purpose for the exit. Hale quickly stood, offering a hand to his companion as she slowly rose from her chair. Hale offered his arm. She held on as they left the room. There was a crowd of people around the elevator, but many others were filing down the staircase in a wave of black tuxedos and colorful dresses.

“Hale, I’ll just be a minute.”

“I’ll wait here,” he said, releasing her hand and watching her closely as she headed toward the ladies’ room.

The room was almost empty by the time Diane was finally able to leave. Even then she was accompanied by one of her father’s professional friends, who was asking her to have Adam call him. It had been a long time since they’d gotten together and they were overdue.

Diane smiled graciously. “I certainly will give him your message. He loves the whole let’s-do-lunch thing but he’s terrible about making it happen.”

“I know,” the elderly man lamented. “Adam never did suffer the details very well. I’ve always enjoyed our conversations. Give him my best.”

“I will. Get home safe,” Diane said and the gentleman, alone, walked away.

She waited just a moment longer before leaving the room, her father’s Revere Bowl in her hands. She looked up and saw Hale. He was standing alone, his gaze focused absently on the last group of guests descending the staircase. For just a moment Diane quietly watched him, accepting that she no longer recognized the young man she used to know. In that moment she was very curious about this new person, this grown man. What was he doing here? How had he become involved with such an influential and select group of professional folks?

Was the tux rented?

As curious as Diane suddenly was about Hale, she accepted that it would be a snowy day in hell before she asked her father for details.

Undetected, she walked away from him to make one more stop before her drive home.

In the ladies’ room, one woman was washing her hands. The second, a small, lovely young woman, was sitting in the outer lounge area reapplying lipstick. Diane recognized her as Hale’s dinner companion. The woman caught her gaze briefly in the mirror and offered a faint but friendly smile. Diane automatically responded in passing.

When she finished and was ready to leave it was in time to see Hale and the woman about to board the elevator. Diane made the decision to walk down, but was spotted by the woman, who waved at her.

“You’re just in time. We’ll hold the door.”

Unable to come up with a reason why she shouldn’t ride with them, Diane hurried to the elevator and entered.

She avoided looking at Hale. “Thanks.”

The word caught in her throat. She sounded breathless to her own ears. Not because she was in a closed, confined place with Hale, but because she was suddenly aware that his companion was very pregnant.

The other woman was saying something. Introducing herself. Jenna. Stunned, Diane couldn’t hear properly. She had to force herself to focus, to clear her head and lift her gaze to the other woman.

“…about your father. He sounds like a wonderful man,” the woman said.

Diane nodded absently, trying to think.

Think!

“Ah…yes. Thank you. I agree but I’m biased. He’s far from perfect, but if I don’t agree, I’ll probably sound mean-spirited.”

“Which is it?” Hale asked.

Diane’s eyes sparked but she did her best to hide it. She looked at Hale, her gaze steady. “I’m lucky that he’s my father. He’s probably a better person than I am.”

A muscle in Hale’s jaw tightened and his dark eyes took her in, steady…and unforgiving.

“I don’t believe that,” Jenna demurred. “Your speech was so warm and loving. I’d say, like father, like daughter. Right, Hale?”

It was too long a moment before he responded and Diane braced herself for something sly and cutting.

“I think that’s fair,” he murmured.

The elevator eased to a stop and the doors opened. The entrance lobby was almost deserted, except for night staff, the director and several others who, once again surrounding Diane, congratulated her father and asked that he be thanked for so generously donating his award check to the cause.

Before Diane could finally bid Hale and Jenna good-night, Hale’s voice halted her.

“Is your car in the museum lot?”

Diane looked puzzled. “Yes. Why did you ask?”

“So’s mine. If you follow me I’ll lead you back to 295. That will take you right to the Belt. You’ll find your way home from there.”

“I’ll be fine. You don’t have to…”

“Do you leave the lot and go to your right or left? The highway entrance is a quarter of a mile east of here.”

Diane stared blankly at him. Jenna laughed. “I think it’s a man thing. I couldn’t tell you if we’re east or west, either. Come on. It’s not going to take us out of the way.”

Diane wanted to protest again but she knew she’d only come off as ungrateful and stubborn. She glanced covertly at Hale only to find him regarding Jenna affectionately.

Okay. So she’s pregnant, pretty and nice.

“Thanks,” Diane murmured, quietly giving in.

Diane watched Hale help Jenna with her winter coat that, when buttoned, ballooned over her protruding belly. She found it humiliating to trail several feet behind Hale and Jenna as, her hand looped through his bent arm, he slowly walked them all back to the parking lot. Diane tried to control her shivers, the rush of frosty air biting into her skin and penetrating deep to her bones. To add insult to injury, her nose was starting to run. She began sniffling.

If Jenna or Hale noticed they gave no indication. The pace continued leisurely for Jenna’s sake, and Diane gritted her teeth, her eyes now watering from the cold, until they reached the lot. Her car was brought out first. She gave the attendant a very large tip for having turned on her heater full blast. She fell into the seat, closing the door with a deep sigh of relief.

She waited for the same service for Hale and Jenna, watching them both through her windshield. Not so much Jenna but Hale.

Patience, consideration, kindness and tenderness were not words she would ever have associated with him. At least not the Hale she used to know. But Diane was taken aback, almost mesmerized, by his attention to Jenna. She didn’t know what to think, what to feel. Their whole encounter that evening had so been outside their history that she felt as if she’d stepped back to the year she was seventeen. That’s where she and Hale Cameron had left off. It was obvious to her now, that’s where she’d gotten stuck.

Hale helped Jenna into the passenger seat of the car, making sure she was comfortable before closing the door and coming around to the driver’s side. Diane at last felt her ire, her long-held indignation, seep out of her. It was pointless. Plus, she felt ashamed. She had not risen to the occasion as she’d always planned if their paths had ever crossed, but had reverted to the spoiled girl Hale had once accused her of being. She had not been able to bridge the gap of years since their last meeting but he had. He had moved on and put her behind him.

His car moved out ahead of her and Diane followed as she’d been instructed. It galled her that she was now beholden to Hale.

They were surprisingly close to the highway entrance, and he stuck his hand out the window indicating the right ramp. Hale then changed lanes, giving her space to pull around his car. She saw that Hale continued to wait, making sure she was well on her way.

At the last minute Diane flashed her headlights as a thank-you before picking up speed. This was something else he could hold over her, no matter how trivial.

Chapter Two

Diane stood at the nursing counter, dressed in a pair of slim black slacks and a dove-gray cashmere turtleneck sweater with fashionable black leather boots. Simple pearl ear studs were her only jewelry. Not exactly holiday colors, she realized when she dressed that morning. Christmas was in the air but she was not about to act like a walking advertisement.

There were makeshift vases of holly and evergreens, wreaths made of fake fruit and poinsettia plants on the counters and a sprig of mistletoe over the entrance to the visitor’s lounge. Cutout foil snowflakes were taped to doors and mirrors. It was hard to avoid. But Diane also knew she just wasn’t feeling it yet.

“Hey. Haven’t seen you lately. When did you cut your hair?” the nursing supervisor asked, sitting at her terminal and working on her computer keyboard.

“About a month ago,” Diane answered absently, focused on the paperwork in front of her. “I got tired of dealing with it. Too much work.”

“You look different.” The nursing supervisor nodded.

Diane shook her head, amused. “Thanks. I think.”

Her hair was trimmed short across her nape but was layered full at the crown and sides, framing a light brown face that was youthful and animated. And except for the unbuttoned traditional white lab coat and the stethoscope folded into one of the pockets there was nothing else about her appearance or posture to indicate she was a doctor.

At that moment she was multitasking, checking messages on her BlackBerry, listening to voice mail from an earpiece and quickly checking off on a hospital form the procedures she’d followed with her last patient. She was also sucking on a piece of candy cane, rolling it around her mouth.

“What are you doing here, anyway? You’re not even on the schedule.” She checked to make sure.

Diane consulted her BlackBerry once more. She entered a text message before finally turning it off and dropping it into her pocket along with the earpiece.

“I was called in for two late referrals that couldn’t wait, according to the attending physicians. The referrals turned into one emergency and the other required a full workup. And there was a bunch of as-long-as-you’re-here-doctor-can-you-take-a-look-at-this requests. You know how it is.” She sighed.

She wasn’t about to admit there was more on her mind than just the obvious routine of her work. To be honest, over the past week or so she found her work was actually a blessed distraction. The horrible events of two years ago notwithstanding, what was on her mind right now was merely irritating. It had kept her awake on three different nights in the last two weeks. It was because she’d seen Hale Cameron again.

Why did he have to be there? she’d been asking herself ever since.

With Jenna.

Who was pregnant.

The image of the friendly woman with her rounded belly evoked a primal reaction in Diane that she, even now, couldn’t understand. Pensive, she played with her hair and massaged her scalp with her fingertips.

“Well, if you’re finished with patients it’s time to get the spirit. Ho ho ho and all that. There’s food in the staff lounge. Unless you have a date and you’re eating later. Or is that long face because he canceled?”

Diane silently shook her head. The mention of any kind of celebrating for the holidays only made her think of Trevor. Her ex-husband. The gnawing memory made her feel more annoyed than sad.

She leaned her whole torso over the counter as she searched along the desk. “Got anymore candy?”

The nurse playfully swatted her hand. “Leave that alone. It’s bad for you.”

Diane chuckled quietly but obeyed.

“You didn’t answer my question. A dinner date?”

The basket was now beyond her reach and Diane stood up and leaned a hip against the counter. “That’s over,” she said smoothly, watching the traffic around the nursing station, the passing of staff, patients and visitors trolling the hallways. Many were wearing cheap, felt Santa hats with fuzzy white trim.

The nurse squinted at her in disbelief. “Over? I thought you just met him a few months ago. What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Diane studied her nails. Her fingers were long and well shaped. Her nails short by necessity, manicured but free of polish. Free of rings, wedding, engagement or friendship.

“It wasn’t a good fit. We weren’t on the same page about a lot of things.”

“He was cute. You threw him outta bed?” The nurse was again incredulous.

Diane’s answering smile was faint. “That wasn’t it. He was just so…so…straight.” She struggled to find the right word. “He was nice and all that, but…”

She stopped and frowned, realizing she was about to make an honest confession that she would later have regretted. It didn’t help that in the middle of the nurse’s probing and her defensive dodging Hale Cameron again came to mind, disrupting her thoughts.

She was seeing Hale as he’d momentarily stood alone and unaware of being observed by her, or anyone, at the end of the gala in Baltimore. She was reminded of when he was nineteen, not long after he’d appeared in her life and become her nemesis.

He had a provocative, strongly defined physique on the cusp of becoming a man. He stood and moved his body in an arrogant posturing way back then, as if he were fully aware of his own assets but wanted to give the impression that he wasn’t. But sometimes, Diane recalled, when he didn’t know anyone was watching, Hale could seem almost shy, even awkward. That night a few weeks ago, she’d caught a glimpse of that same momentary uncertainty, all pretenses under wraps.

“I guess I’m too busy to concentrate on a relationship right now,” Diane said restlessly, forcing the memory to recede.

“That mean you’re coming alone to the holiday party?”

“I…have other plans,” she improvised.

“Then you should at least stop upstairs before you leave.”

“What’s upstairs?” Diane asked, again pulling out her BlackBerry to check for messages. She stood reading one, frowning over its contents.

“The kids’ party up on six. Santa’s coming in to meet them and give out presents.”

Diane turned off the phone. “I’m glad you reminded me. I have some things in my car.”

Pushing away from the counter, Diane walked toward the elevator. She spoke briefly to colleagues she met in passing, listening to excited plans for Christmas and New Year’s, and being asked about her own. She made them up as required.

Without stopping to get her coat, Diane left the building and walked to her car in the staff lot. It was a cold, overcast day, promising rain or snow. She opened the trunk of her car and removed a shopping bag from which protruded two gifts wrapped in kid-friendly holiday paper. She started back toward the building and then suddenly stopped midstride. Returning to her car, Diane opened the driver’s side and climbed in, shutting the door behind her. She absently placed the bag on the other seat, pulled out her phone and made a call. She sat with her eyes closed waiting for the connection, thinking about what she was going to say.

“Hi, Eva. It’s me.”

“Diane. Honey, is everything okay?”

“Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you right away…”

“I know you’re very busy at the hospital but I worry when nearly a week goes by…”

Diane let her head drop back against the headrest and slouched in the seat.

“I know.” She sighed

“It’s just work, right?”

Diane gnawed on her lip, staring out beyond the windshield to the stark evidence of December and that-time-of-the-year.

“Yeah. Mostly,” she finally confessed.

There was a silence on the other end and Diane knew what was coming next. She’d hoped to avoid this conversation. Her father would have left it alone, never one to mix it up in her business. But her stepmother, in many ways, knew her better than Adam.

“I know what you’re going through right now. That’s why I want to know if you’ll be coming for Christmas. Bailey is driving me crazy asking every ten minutes when you’ll arrive.”

Diane smiled at the mention and image of her half sister.

“What should I tell her? And your father?”

She sighed. “Eva…I…don’t think I’ll make it down. I’ve waited so long to get a flight it’s going to cost me a fortune. Plus I have a couple of cases I have to keep close tabs on. Maybe I can see everyone for a weekend after the holidays are over. I mean, you live only a couple of hours from me.”

“That certainly hasn’t meant we see you any more frequently. Here’s the thing. We want to see you for the holidays, not after. We want you with us. Unless…are you going to stay with your mother this year?”

Diane shook her head even though Eva couldn’t see the action. “No, I’m not doing that.”

“I understand,” Eva murmured.

Diane knew that she did. Eva was kindness itself and would never dream of saying anything critical about Diane’s natural mother, even though it was common knowledge that Maron Fairchild was a bit of a drama queen.

“Listen. I know this is a difficult time for you, honey. One of the biggest family holidays of the year and you probably only remember Trevor telling you he’s leaving, two days before Christmas.”

Diane’s stomach roiled with exactly that memory…

At the end of a party they’d given. Their apartment had been jumping with wall-to-wall people, music and laughter. Most of their friends, an equal number of colleagues, his and hers, and even a few total strangers who’d somehow crashed. It was almost 2:00 a.m. when she’d closed the door on the last guest. Eva was wrong about one part of the story. Trevor had never told her he was leaving. After making a feeble attempt to clean up some of the debris and leftovers of their party she’d realized that it was suddenly very quiet and Trevor was nowhere to be seen.

“Trevor? Where are you? How about giving me a hand?”

She’d found him in their bedroom. Packing a suitcase.

Diane no longer remembered if he said anything just then or even what she’d said to him. But she would never forget his simple response to her annoyed accusation that he was being childish as he silently picked up the case, calmly walked to a hall closet and put on his coat. Finally, opening the apartment door.

“Goodbye, Diane.”

That was it.

You’ll hear from my lawyer had been posted in an e-mail to her several days later.

The echo of Trevor’s words still felt like a raw open wound. And just this week, a few days before Christmas, it felt worse believing she was destined to relive that awful moment, forever.

“I know you think that’s the reason, and I appreciate your concern, Eva. But the truth is, I do have some patients with serious issues.”

“I believe you but I don’t believe that means you can’t get away to spend Christmas with your family. Come down for just a few days. Leave the day after Christmas if you really have to.”

Diane silently chuckled. “You’re making me feel so guilty.”

“I hope so. You don’t need to be alone. You don’t need to punish yourself that way. Bailey is making all kinds of plans. Hayden keeps hinting at something in particular he’s sure you’re getting him. Adam wants to know if he needs to rent a second Jeep. We invited Simon and I think he’s coming, too.”

“Simon,” she repeated, surprised. “You’ll never see him. He’s going to be breaking hearts all over the island.”

“I know, but I trust your father to keep him in line, if that’s called for. And, honey, I really want to see you. Come home.”

Come home.

“I don’t want to make any promises…” Diane stopped and swallowed, stunned by the sudden lump in her throat and the uncharacteristic urge to cry. She cleared her throat. “Look…I took a moment to call you back so you wouldn’t think I was avoiding you…”

“But you were…”

“There’s a holiday party going on right now in the pediatric ward and I’m late.”

“Then go. Just don’t forget we’re all here for you.”

“Say hi to everybody for me.”

“Take care, sweetie. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Diane ended the call but just sat there. She couldn’t move just then if her life depended on it. She was a pile of tender nerves, confused emotions, convoluted but vivid memories. She felt perilously close to tears and hated that she could lose control while sitting pathetically in her car, in a hospital parking lot, just days before Christmas. Alone.

She muttered an oath and scrambled out of the car, snatching up the bag with the gifts. With her head high and any suspicion of tears swept away by the wind, Diane went to join the festivities in the children’s ward.

“Hey. You made it.”

“Hi, Ron. Sorry I’m so late but the children’s party at the hospital threw me off schedule. You probably thought I was going to stand you up.”

The burly black man, his dark face wreathed in a grin from cheek to cheek, let out a rumble of laughter.

“You could never be too late. I appreciate you could squeeze in some time for us. Come on in and sit a minute. But be careful.” Ron pointed meaningfully to a small bouquet of greenery taped just above his door.

“What is it?” Diane asked.

“Mistletoe. Only but two or three of us know what it is and what it’s for. Hasn’t been used yet.”

“Your idea, I suppose.”

“Hey, it’s a good way to teach about another Christmas tradition, right? It’s not all about the gifts and turkey.”

Diane shook her head wryly and did as she was told, maneuvering around the stacks of boxes, flyers, folders and other sundry this and that that pretty much filled Ron Jeffrey’s office. She sat on an inverted milk carton since the second chair in the office had transit files piled on it. She unwound the long scarf fashionably twisted around her neck and shrugged out of her coat. Ron squeezed his bulk around a corner of the desk and plopped into his chair. He pushed his glasses up his nose while quickly and efficiently checking e-mails on his surely about-to-die aging PC and answering his telephone. He dispensed with two calls and the messages and then pushed back in his chair to regard Diane with a warm smile.

“Thanks for coming, Diane. Hope I didn’t pull you away from anything important.”

“You didn’t. I didn’t need to spend too much time at that party. I nearly overdosed on Christmas candy and hot chocolate.”

Ron laughed again, the sound carrying out his office door and down the halls of the shelter where a valiant attempt had been made to make the place look festive and cheerful.

“Can’t offer you hot chocolate. Milk is too expensive. But the market two blocks away donated a couple of cartons of apple juice for our party. Care to have some? I can put a little fortifier in it, if you want, against the cold,” he said, winking at her.

“Not yet.” She laughed. “I’d like to first take a look at the boy and senior resident you’re concerned about.”

“Good idea. Then you have to meet Santa Claus. If you’ve been a good little girl, maybe he’s got somethin’ for you in his sack.”

That sent him off into another peel of uproarious laughter. Diane enjoyed his spirit. He was director of the community shelter for displaced families. She’d always been impressed not only by Ron’s advocacy on behalf of the homeless, but his amazing ability to get services and favors from the most unlikely places when most other people could not. She suspected that people were afraid of Ron Jeffrey because of his size and very commanding voice. She wouldn’t put it past him to exaggerate both if it got results for the shelter. Over time she’d come to know him as the gentlest of men, and a very savvy and smart one. He seemed to deliberately let his appearance belie the fact that he held a master’s degree in not-for-profit administration.

Diane glanced around the office. “Is this the only private space?”

He shook his head, pursing his lips. “No such thing as privacy in a place like this, I’m afraid.”

“Then this is fine.”

She opened the leather satchel she’d brought with her and began to remove equipment and instruments. Without a word Ron sprang up from his desk and left the office, closing the usually open door behind him.

In just a few minutes he returned, escorting an older white woman into the office, offering Diane a quick introduction to Nan. He left, with a silent jerk of his head to indicate he’d be within shouting distance if she needed his help.

The woman was mostly silent, asking no questions, offering no earlier information, sitting passively while Diane did a basic exam of her vital signs. She didn’t even seem particularly interested in what Diane was doing. Ron had informed her that the older woman recently seemed incoherent.

Diane made quiet idle talk for reassurance to the woman who, she could well imagine, probably hadn’t seen a doctor in years. Two very simple little movements requested of the woman quickly confirmed her suspicions.

“Okay, Nan, I think I’m done,” Diane said.

“Can I…now?” the woman asked.

“Give me a few more minutes.”

The woman nodded, staring blankly into space.

Diane managed to reach the door from her position behind it, and opened it to signal Ron, who stood talking with a resident near the reception desk.

“How’s it going?” Ron asked.

“I want to get her to the emergency room tonight for a more thorough exam.”

“What’s up?”

“I suspect a ministroke. There was at least one but there might have been more. I don’t think we should wait until the morning.”

“No problem. I’ll have someone drive her over right now.”

“Good.” Diane nodded briskly.

She used Ron’s desk phone to call the hospital to alert them to Nan’s arrival and to give her authorization that she be seen immediately.

“Come on, Nan. We’re going to take you for a little ride. Would you like that?” Ron asked.

Her eyes briefly lit up and she nodded.

“Before you go,” Diane said, retrieving something else from her bag. It was a small, flat, wrapped gift she held out to the woman. “Merry Christmas.”

“Ooooh. Like. Thank…you.”

She hugged the gift to her chest, smiling for the first time.

Ron turned her by the shoulders to guide her from the office.

“That was really cool of you to have something for Nan. She has no family, far as we know.”

“It’s just a little thing. I had an extra gift after taking care of some of my staff. Where’s the boy?”

“Look, you’re going to have to go to him.”

Diane frowned. “Why?”

“There’s a party goin’ on, and he’s not about to leave right now. We got Santa and everything.”

Diane laughed in understanding. “Okay. Lead the way.”

She took only her stethoscope with her as she followed Ron. There was music and a lot of loud conversation coming from a space at the end of a corridor. The noise from the other end only got louder as they approached. There was a room to the left that turned out to be the communal dining hall.

At the back of the room, near the door, the adults stood or sat watching the excitement of perhaps fifty children and adolescents at the front of the room as they waited to meet with Santa Claus and receive a gift.

Diane couldn’t help but smile at the cheerful chaos as kids roughhoused together, or shouted to be next, or played with gifts already opened, or sat staring dumbfounded at the man at the center of attention, Santa Claus.

She began to chuckle when she realized he was the tallest, thinnest Santa she’d ever seen. Not that that mattered to the kids. He was seated in a chair raised on an improvised platform. For all their hardships and deprivations, the children clearly believed in this Santa who’d made a special trip from the North Pole just to see them.

“That’s Qa’Shawn over there. The kid jumping up and down. I told him not to do that,” Ron said, worried.

“That’s actually a good sign.”

“Well, let me go get him. I told him someone special wanted to meet him ‘cause he passed out yesterday. He thinks he did something special,” he said, bemused.

Diane found a little spot by herself out of the way of the celebration. It was a moment before she became aware that Santa appeared to be sending covert glances at her. But then he went back to being jolly and attentive to the kids. They seemed to find it pretty cool that he was a black Santa behind the snow-white beard. He cast her another long look and then ignored her.

“Qa’Shawn, this is Dr. Diane. I told you about her. Say hello.” Ron gave the youngster a light nudge.

“Hello,” the boy murmured.

He was maybe nine years old.

“Hi, Qa’Shawn.” Diane smiled at him.

“You a doctor for real?”

“I am.” She held out her stethoscope. “See.”

“I know what that is. You listen to a heart with that. Can I try it?”

Diane placed the ear tips of the headset lightly into his ears and then put the diaphragm against the boy’s chest. After just a few seconds his eyes grew wide.

“I hear noise in there. Is that my heart?”

“Hope so,” Ron said. “If you don’t hear anything you’re in deep trouble.”

But the boy was too fascinated with the sounds coming through the instrument to try and figure out Ron’s macabre joke.

“Can I listen, too?” Diane asked.

Qa’Shawn relinguished the headset to her. Diane put it to her own ears and listened, using the tunable diaphragm to make adjustments. After a minute Diane removed the headset, looping the stethoscope around her neck. She grinned at Qa’Shawn. “Sounds like a lot of rushing water to me.”

The boy laughed but was already getting antsy to get away.

“I don’t want to keep you from Santa. Nice meeting you, Qa’Shawn.”

He shouted goodbye and took off like a shot.

“Well?” Ron asked in a quiet voice.

“I hear a murmur. Could mean his heartbeat’s a little irregular. It’s not unusual and it’s not normally dangerous, but I’d like to see Qa’Shawn at the hospital.”

Ron frowned. “Not tonight.”

“No, it can wait until after the holidays, but I’d like to run some tests to see what we’re dealing with.”

Ron nodded solemnly. “I’ll make sure it happens. Anyway, if we try to pull him away before Hale finishes his Santa act…”

“Hale?” she asked faintly.

“Yeah. Hale Cameron. Good buddy of mine. I had to beg big-time to get him here, and threaten him if he didn’t wear the suit. I can’t help that it’s too big.”

Diane had already turned her attention back to the front of the room where Hale, unrecognizable under the Santa garb, was acting the part and talking the talk and keeping a lot of children very entertained. Except for those few moments when he was distracted by her presence, Hale was all about the business of being Santa Claus.

“He owed me a favor and I called it in,” Ron continued. “But he would have done it in the end. I just had to work on him a bit.” Ron laughed. “I want you to meet him.”

At that Diane headed out of the room, back to Ron’s office. “Some other time. He’s busy and I should be going.”

“Well, I’m not going to keep you. You’re probably on your way to a party right now.”

Not, Diane thought to herself.

They’d almost reached Ron’s office when he was called aside by a resident complaining that someone had stolen his sneakers and backpack. Ron had to deal with it. Diane quickly got her coat and bag. Running into Hale Cameron twice in as many weeks was starting to make her feel cursed. Before she got to the door, her BlackBerry silently signaled there were messages once she was back to the hospital.

Her position didn’t allow her to ignore them. Perching on the edge of Ron’s desk, Diane scrolled through her e-mails and text messages. Fortunately, there was no emergency, just several colleagues wishing her a happy holiday and friends inviting her to join them for drinks. There was another invitation to yet another party, and a request for the name of a particular doctor.

Totally wrapped up in responding, she paid no attention to the voices and conversation in the hallway. Diane was just finishing her last post when one voice stood out distinctly from the rest. She was instantly spurred into action, and she scrambled to grab her things and get away. The door was ajar and she put her hand out to pull it open. It was pushed from the other side, forcing her to step back quickly.

Santa Claus filled the doorway.

Silently, her heart palpitating with a fight-or-flight reflex, Diane stared at the man behind the guise. For a very long moment neither said anything and it was impossible for her to tell what was going through Hale’s mind since she couldn’t see all of his face or much of his eyes. She also made the quick observation of how funny he looked behind the fake snow-white beard.

Standing so close in front of him, she could smell the storage chemicals on the rented Santa suit and she could smell Hale’s cologne or aftershave. Plus a little bit of male heat.

“’Scuse me,” she murmured, not looking into his face as she tried to slide past him through the doorway.

“No problem,” he murmured back.

“Don’t move! Perfect! Man, I couldn’t plan this.”

Curious, Diane looked at Ron. He pointed to the door frame over her and Hale’s head. He looked up, too. The evergreen bouquet was fixed and ready. Ron burst out into loud, satisfied laughter.

“Don’t just stand there,” he encouraged. “You’re supposed to kiss each other.”

Diane’s gaze flew to Hale’s, her eyes wide with surprise. And fear. She was about to protest but never got the chance.

Hale suddenly seemed to swoop forward and she couldn’t move. The thick wooly beard was ridiculous, but soft and kind of ticklish. Through it she felt the firm, warm pressure of his mouth.

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