Can their surprise baby…

Heal his broken heart?

Since hospital administrator Garret Stapleton lost both his wife and daughter, he’s determined not to give away his heart again. Until gorgeous but guarded ER doc Addy Santini gets under his skin… Soon they embark on a scorching affair that has unexpected, life-changing consequences! When Garret’s tragic past threatens their happiness, can Addy’s surprise pregnancy lead them to their happy-ever-after?

Three-times Golden Heart® finalist TINA BECKETT learned to pack her suitcases almost before she learned to read. Born to a military family, she has lived in the United States, Puerto Rico, Portugal and Brazil. In addition to travelling, Tina loves to cuddle with her pug, Alex, spend time with her family, and hit the trails on her horse. Learn more about Tina from her website, or ‘friend’ her on Facebook.

Also by Tina Beckett

Rafael’s One Night Bombshell

The Doctors’ Baby Miracle

Tempted by Dr Patera

The Billionaire’s Christmas Wish

Hot Brazilian Docs! miniseries

To Play with Fire

The Dangers of Dating Dr Carvalho

The Doctor’s Forbidden Temptation

From Passion to Pregnancy

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

One Night to Change Their Lives

Tina Beckett

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08979-1

ONE NIGHT TO CHANGE THEIR LIVES

© 2019 Tina Beckett

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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To my family: here’s to twists.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

PEARLS WERE NOT her thing. Not anymore.

Adelina Santini dropped the necklace into its velvet lined jeweler’s box, snapped the lid shut and put it in the growing stack of things to donate to the hospital’s charity auction. Five years of marriage and the necklace and her wounded pride were the only things she had to show for it.

The bed had been stripped of sheets, pillows and the comforter—she’d jammed everything into the trash along with her wedding pictures. But even with brand-new bedclothes, she couldn’t face sleeping in that room. So she’d spent the last six weeks sleeping on the couch, and that was where she’d stay until she could decide what to do about the bed, about the house…about everything. Divorce papers were filed and her soon-to-be ex had moved in with the woman she’d caught him cheating with—the same day she’d walked in on them. Getting rid of those pearls—his wedding gift to her—was the first step toward leaving an ugly part of her past behind. At least she hoped so.

All she wanted was to wash her hands of him and never see him again. But he was an EMT who regularly brought patients to her hospital. Unless she moved to another city, she would see him. Daily at times. So far, those encounters had been far from fun. There was no way she was going to let her distaste at seeing him drive her out of her job, though.

Abandoning her task for the hundredth time that week, she went to shower and get dressed for work. Right now, her job was her only salvation. The fact that she arrived before her shift started and left long after it was over was no one’s business but her own. With that thought, she stepped under the stinging flow of hot water and waited for it to wash away all her troubles.

A half hour later, juggling five boxes of items for the auction, she walked through the doors of the emergency room of Miami’s Grace Hospital and headed for the staff lounge to drop off what she’d brought. Five feet from the door, a familiar voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Dr. Santini, could I see you in my office for a minute?”

Peering over the stack, her eyes widened as she saw she was right. Garret Stapleton, the hospital administrator, stood with one shoulder propped against a nearby wall, arms crossed over his chest. A hint of biceps made a rare flush of warmth go through her.

Lord, Addy, what is wrong with you?

Then he moved toward her, and she took a quick step back, the parcels teetering for a second. The heat in her face turned red hot.

“Let me help you with those.”

“It’s okay. I’ve got them. Just a few things for the auction.”

Why did he want to talk to her? Had she done something wrong? She’d been at this hospital for several years—longer than he had, in fact. And ever since her husband had walked out, her view of the world had shifted, opened up. That view now encompassed the sexy administrator in a way that made her cringe.

In her growing panic, the boxes tilted sideways, the jeweler’s container sliding off and falling to the floor. The lid popped off and the pearl necklace spilled onto the tile.

Yikes!

Dr. Stapleton reached down and scooped up the necklace with his right hand, letting it dangle from his fingertips. He peered at it, a frown puckering his brow. “These are real.”

She swallowed. “I—I know.”

“This is for donation?”

“It is. Just clearing out five years of debris.” The words tumbled out faster than she meant for them to, and the frown swung her way.

He nodded at the rest of the boxes. “Any other valuable ‘debris’ in there?”

“No.”

“I think I’ll put this in my office safe for security’s sake.” He paused. “And in case you change your mind, you should probably have them appraised, if you haven’t already.”

“I won’t change my mind.” She didn’t tell him why, but hopefully he could read the conviction in her voice.

He opened the door to the staff lounge and waited while she put the rest of her items onto the table with the others. By now her legs were shaking. She’d hoped to leave everything there without anyone seeing her. But he was right. It was probably better to safeguard the pearls than to leave them lying around, not that she thought anyone on staff would take them. At least the hospital would benefit from her mistake.

Speaking of mistakes, did she really want to sit in his office on a day her eyes had trailed over the muscles in his arms?

Turning to face him, she asked, “What was it you needed to talk to me about?”

“Let’s go into my office.”

Ugh. There was no getting out of it. And it sounded serious. The last thing she needed right now was “serious.”

* * *

Garret Stapleton stretched the fingers of his left hand and winced as the act pulled tendons and ligaments that were tight from disuse. He knew better than to try to grip the lock to his safe with the twisted digits. Or a scalpel.

Why were his thoughts heading in that direction today?

He knew. And he’d be damned if he’d sit back and let someone else make the same mistake he did. He’d heard what had happened with Addy, even though he did his best not to listen to the rumors that floated around. He was sure there were plenty out there about him and his hand.

The “five years of debris” comment made him think that those donations had something to do with her marriage. He shifted the long flat box so that it was under his left forearm as he quickly turned the tumbler right and then left, opening the safe. Then he took the box and slid it on top of a set of files. His files. Files that mapped out what his own errors had cost him.

“Have a seat.”

She skirted one of the leather chairs and folded herself into it.

Was she thinner than when he’d first arrived in South Beach three years ago? Or maybe he was imagining things.

“I’m not sure what this is about.”

“Aren’t you?”

She tipped her head, sending several locks of dark hair cascading over one shoulder.

Maybe calling her into his office to have this conversation wasn’t such a good idea after all. But where else could he do it? Certainly not in the staff lounge.

The thumb of his damaged hand scrubbed over his pinkie finger; he wasn’t quite sure how to approach this. But if he didn’t drop the ax and something happened… “Whenever a doctor’s name appears on a chart, it’s entered into the system. If the computer finds a disparity between assigned hours and actual hours worked, it sends up a red flag. Do you want to guess how many flags you’ve generated in the last several weeks?”

“I’ve had a lot of free time and so I—”

“Try again.” He softened the words with a smile. He didn’t want to come across as a game warden.

Her chin went up and green eyes flashed. “Why are you asking those questions? If you have a problem with my work, surely that’s a matter for Human Resources.”

“Normally I’d say you were right and shoot it up to them. But the Emergency Department is the heart of Miami’s Grace Hospital. So it’s important to me. To the entire hospital.”

“My working a few extra hours would help that cause, I would think.”

“Yes. One would think. But that’s not always the case.” He dropped his hand behind the desk, unwilling to use it as an example of what could happen unless he absolutely needed to. “I need you to be at your best.”

“I haven’t been?”

“You’ve been a huge asset to this hospital. I’m sure you know that. I don’t want one of our best doctors burning out or going elsewhere.”

“I have no plans of going anywhere. At the moment, anyway.” Her eyes dipped to the edge of his desk before coming back up to meet his.

She was thinking about leaving.

“Are you having a problem on the floor? Is someone making life difficult?”

“You mean other than you?” She flashed a grin that traveled all the way to her eyes, crinkling the corners in a way that made his insides clench. But when he didn’t smile back, her mouth went back to neutral. “No. Of course not.”

“Why the sudden jump in hours, then?” He forced himself to concentrate on the subject at hand. There was no way she could deny that her habits had changed. He might be treading into forbidden territory, but it was his job to make sure this hospital maintained its reputation for providing stellar care.

She hesitated. “I’m going through a personal crisis right now. I just need to work through it, and this is the best way I can think of to do that.”

The familiar ring of those words made him tense. He’d gone through a personal crisis of his own a few years back. “Anything you care to share?”

Her head came up, neck turning a dark shade of red. “No. Yes…” There was a long pause, as if she was struggling to figure out a way to tell him something. “I’m divorcing my husband, and things have been difficult.”

He sat back in his chair, relief washing through him that her crisis had nothing to do with him. Not that he was happy she was getting a divorce, but the way she’d backed away from him when he’d tried to help her with those boxes had set an alarm off in his head. He’d racked his brain thinking of something he might have done to make her uneasy around him, but had come up empty.

“A divorce.”

Okay, so the matter-of-fact way he’d said that had probably sounded crass and unfeeling. He hadn’t meant it to. After all, he’d been through a divorce himself and had lived to tell the tale.

“I’m not sure how my hours are a problem as long as I’m not endangering anyone.”

He leaned forward. “Sometimes you don’t realize you are until it’s too late.”

“Are we talking about me? Or are we talking about your hand?”

“Excuse me?” Only then did he realize that his injured hand was resting on his desk, the almost useless fingers curled into a ball.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

She was right. She shouldn’t have. Except the reason he’d asked her to step into his office had more to do with him than it did with her, and she’d just called him on it. He lifted his hand, turning it over and studying it for a few seconds. “Actually you’re right. I did call you in because of this. You’ve heard about what happened?”

“You know the grapevines. Not much escapes them.”

“Ah. I imagine not. And calling you in here isn’t personal. It’s professional. I don’t want to see anyone else ruin their career by working themselves to exhaustion.”

“I know my limits.”

He smiled to cover the churning in his gut caused by those words. He’d thought he’d known his limits too. How wrong he’d been. “Sometimes we only think we do.”

“Believe me, I have no desire to jeopardize something I love more than anything.”

He hadn’t wanted to either. But once Leticia died…

Swallowing, he stood. “I just wanted to bring it to your attention and ask you to stick to a more sensible schedule.”

She laughed and climbed to her feet as well, tossing those wild errant locks back over her shoulder. “I think ‘doctor’ and ‘sensible schedule’ are incompatible terms, don’t you? Are you going to write me up?”

“Do I need to?”

“I hope not, but that’s your prerogative. You can even fire me, if you want. I can always practice somewhere else.”

And now he could bring up an earlier thought. “You’re already thinking of doing just that, though, aren’t you? Leaving?”

There was a long pause. “I hope it won’t come to that. My—ex—works for the EMT company that services this area. If he makes things difficult, I might choose to move.”

He took a step closer, gratified when she stood her ground this time. “How can I help? The hospital, that is.”

“You can’t. It’s something I have to work through myself. I’ll either be able to face him and move on, or I won’t. Our parting was not the most amicable in the world.”

That made him frown. “Let me know if he causes trouble.”

“I think he’s caused all the trouble he can. The sooner the divorce goes through, the better.” Fingers fiddled with a small gold ball that clung to the delicate lobe of her right ear. Something contracted in his chest.

She allowed her hand to drop back to her side, standing straight and tall. “I’m sure the last thing you want to hear today is someone moaning about their impending divorce.”

He glanced back at the safe.

Before he could even give voice to the question, she nodded. “Yes. He gave it to me. And all of those other items as well.”

“Ah, understandable. I still think it should be appraised. I can have that done if you’d like.”

“It’s up to you. I won’t want the necklace back no matter what its value.”

He glanced at her hand. No rings anymore, but the indentation was still there. “I’m sorry. About your breakup.”

“Thank you.” She shoved her hands in the pockets of her pants. “Now, if there’s nothing else…”

“No. Nothing. Just keep an eye on those hours, okay?”

“I will. Thanks for bringing it to my attention.”

Walking over to the door, he held it open and waited as she walked through it. “Oh, and, Dr. Santini.”

“Call me Addy.”

He nodded. “Addy, then. Thank you for the donations. The hospital appreciates them.”

How was that for impersonal? Maybe he’d sounded canned and overly formal, but he didn’t like the way he was suddenly noticing little things about her.

“I’m glad someone will be able to use them.”

Because she wouldn’t. He shut the door and went back around his desk. Giving his damaged hand one last glance, he sat in his chair and tried to lose himself in his work. But Addy’s face—and that damned gold earring—kept circling through his thoughts. He hoped she came through her crisis unscathed. And that it wouldn’t cost her something a lot more valuable than a set of pearls.

* * *

Two days later a piece of mail caught her attention. It was from the hospital. Her breath stalled in her chest. She’d done her best to cut back on her hours, but knew she’d still stayed on the floor longer than she should have.

Sliding her finger under the tab, she was surprised when a single sheet of paper fell out—a handwritten note containing only seven words:

Two thousand dollars appraised—are you sure?

The signature was Garret Stapleton’s. A shiver went over her as she sat and stared at his handwriting for a few seconds. Bold strokes crossed those Ts. She touched a finger to one of them, then gritted her teeth.

She knew exactly what he was referring to. The necklace. She wasn’t shocked by the price tag. What she was surprised at was that he’d written to her personally. And at the funny twist to her stomach when she’d opened the envelope and realized who it was from.

But at least he hadn’t called her back into his office to break the news to her. Their last meeting had made her squirm. Maybe because she’d called attention to his hand, when she hadn’t meant to. She’d gone all defensive, trying to deflect his attention to something other than her.

He’d been right to chew her out. But he hadn’t needed to. She did know her limits. And she loved her job too much to risk driving while exhausted. Which was why she’d been known to leave her car in the parking lot and take a taxi.

Did he call every single doctor who worked overtime into his office? She didn’t think so. Which meant he had seen some kind of warning sign.

She’d heard that the fiery crash that damaged his hand had almost cost his life as well. That thought made her heart ache. He’d been one of the best neurosurgeons in the country. And it had all been snatched away in a split second. He’d then gone from New York City to the shores of South Beach.

Why so far away?

Maybe, like her, he’d felt he needed a change of scenery. A new start. Maybe she needed to do the same—like go from South Beach to New York.

Except she was a Florida girl. Born to a family of Italian immigrants, but a true surfer girl at heart. With her dark hair, she didn’t exactly look the part, but she didn’t care. Those waves had coaxed her back to the water time and time again.

In fact, she’d met Leo Santini during a surfing contest five years earlier, when she’d been undergoing another crisis—with her mom, this time—and had fallen in love. Looking back, she realized their quick romance had been a desperate attempt on her part to claw her way out of a dark hole, but the effort had backfired. As her mom’s condition had continued to deteriorate, their marriage had begun to change gears too. Their surfing trips had dwindled to nothing over the space of a year. She still caught an occasional wave, but Leo had turned in his board for the party scene, something she had no interest in at all. She should have seen the breakup coming. Talk about warning signs. She’d missed them all.

But no more.

Maybe she needed to take her board and head to the beach on Wednesday, her next day off. Then her boss wouldn’t be able to say a word about her working too many hours. And maybe it would clear her head and help her find her equilibrium again. Just the thought made her pulse pick up its pace. How long had it been since she’d paddled through the surf, looking for that one great wave?

Too long. That was what she’d do.

Taking a pen, she sat down and crafted her reply to Garret. And she could do it in fewer words than he had: “Very sure.” Rather than mail it, she would drop it on his desk. In person. Probably not a good idea, but it was the best way she knew to make the break from Leo definitive, not that it wasn’t already.

Shoving the note back into its envelope, she hurried to get ready for the day. Then tonight she would drag her surfboard out of the spare bedroom and check the weather in hopes that conditions—in more ways than one—were perfect.

CHAPTER TWO

THE EMERGENCY ROOM wasn’t as busy as it normally was. Sometimes the room was full, medical personnel running back and forth. But it was still early, and the hospital was exceptionally good at triage. His hospital in New York had also had a great quick-response team that could handle multiple trauma cases at the drop of a hat. That attention to skill and speed had probably saved his life after his accident, even though he could only remember bits and pieces of what happened.

Winding his way through the space as he often did on Monday mornings, he mentally kept track of what he saw. He’d made it a habit to visit a different department at the beginning of every workday. Not so much to check up on everyone as to make sure people felt comfortable approaching him. That they felt as if they were being heard.

The last thing he wanted was to be one of those aloof bosses that sat in his office issuing edicts and making sure everyone followed them to the letter. He wanted people to stay at the hospital because they wanted to, because it had an atmosphere that was conducive to sticking around.

Which was why when he’d sensed Addy might want to move on, he’d reacted so strongly. Right?

The emergency-room doctor had caught his attention, and not just because of her hours. Her colleagues talked as if she were some kind of superhero.

Was he sure that wasn’t why he was here now? To make sure the hospital’s star player wasn’t going to burn herself out?

Or was it more personal than that?

Nope. It was Monday. He was simply sticking to routine.

And the envelope he’d found on his desk this morning? She’d arrived even before he had. Had she not heard a single word he’d said?

Nodding to a staff member who made eye contact, he suddenly wondered if he should have skipped coming down here. He didn’t want Addy to think he was seeking her out.

Because he wasn’t.

Pivoting on his heel, he almost ran over the very person he was now hoping to avoid.

“Dr. Stapleton.” Her wide eyes and breathless tone made him smile. Okay. So maybe it wasn’t just him feeling awkward.

“Garret, remember? Everyone else calls me by my given name.”

“Oh. Of course.” She glanced at the electronic file-storage device still in her hands. “Did you get my note?”

“You mean the one that was lying on my desk when I arrived?”

“I always get here at six.” Her quick response was defensive, and her eyes came up to meet his. “I’m off on Wednesday, though. I’m actually planning on surfing.”

“Surfing as in the internet?”

Her head cocked sideways. “No. Surfing as in at the beach.” Her hand twirled through the air. “In the ocean. Catching waves.”

“You—surf?” A quick image of Addy flashed through his skull. A wetsuit? Or, worse, a bikini? He suddenly wished he hadn’t asked her to clarify her response.

Up went her brows. “This is South Beach. Doesn’t everyone?”

“I haven’t taken a survey recently.”

She laughed. “Sorry. I just thought that most Floridians… Oh, wait. You’re from New York. Sorry. Coming here must have been a big change for you.”

His imaginings died a painful death.

“Not as big as other changes.” His hand curled next to his side. Why had he just said that? “Both places have a lot of people. And a need for good medical care.”

“Of course.” She hesitated. “Do you still do consulting at all?”

“Sorry?”

“On cases. I had a head trauma come in the other day and the neurologist on duty was tied up in surgery. It took a little longer to get the patient evaluated than I would have liked.”

“Did it change the outcome?”

“The patient didn’t make it. But no, the outcome probably would have been the same. But it would be nice to know there’s someone else I can call if the need arises.”

His jaw tightened. No one at Miami’s Grace had asked him that question before. Which was another reason he’d relocated. If people didn’t think of him as a neurosurgeon, they wouldn’t treat him like one. Did he really want to open that door? Then again, did he want to risk a patient’s life by refusing?

“I don’t do surgery anymore.” Said as if he still could. So why hadn’t he said “can’t”? Maybe because he hadn’t quite faced the fact that he would never again use a scalpel to excise a brain tumor.

Addy frowned. “I realize that. So you’re not willing to consult? I just want to be clear so that I don’t keep that as an option.”

“I’m available if you need me.” And just like that, it was out there. Not exactly the way he’d envisioned this conversation going. He’d been all set to chastise her for flouting his request that she moderate her hours, and she’d ended up subtly chastising him for putting himself above their patients.

And she was right. His embarrassment over his hand did drive some of his decisions. Including being the motivating factor behind calling her into his office a few days ago. It had nothing to do with her patients—or even her well-being—and everything to do with him.

That had to change. Starting now.

“Thank you, Dr.—I mean Garret. You won’t regret it.”

He already did, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. Instead, he nodded at the tablet in her hand. “Nothing neurological this morning?”

“Not so far. Just a gator hunter who shot a hole in his boat. But not before the bullet went through his buddy’s foot.”

His brows shot up. “Well, I can’t remember seeing anything like that at my last hospital.”

“You didn’t have hunters in New York?”

He thought of the gangland shootings and senseless loss of life. “We did. But they tended to hunt a different kind of prey, and when they shot someone, it wasn’t an accident.”

“We have that here too.” She sighed. “I wish people were different. Kinder.”

“There are still some good ones out there.” Addy was one of those good ones. He could see it in her work ethic, in the fact that she cared enough about her patients to risk a firm refusal when she’d asked him to consult on cases.

Sometimes, with hospital politics in play, it was easier to just go with the flow and try not to make waves. But that wasn’t always what was best for the patient. Here was someone who was not only willing to make waves, but more than willing to swim against the current. Well, surfers had to do that each time they took their boards into the water, didn’t they? She was just doing what came naturally.

“Yes, there are. Some of those good ones even come from New York City.” She gave a smile that lit up her dark green eyes. Eyes that met and held his for long seconds.

He swallowed. She didn’t know him very well. Because if she did, she’d know he wasn’t good. Not by a long shot.

But even as he thought it, a warmth seeped into his chest that had nothing to do with a defect in the hospital’s climate control system. It had been a while since someone had handed him a compliment that didn’t originate with his position at the hospital. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.

Better just to ignore it. And the way that her smile messed with something inside him.

“So what happened to the man in the boat? The one who was shot?” he asked.

“What didn’t happen to him? He fell overboard right after the bullet hit him, dousing his foot with swamp water. Then once back in the boat, he had to bail more water, while his friend drove them back to shore, giving his foot another good dunking.” Her smile widened, and it kicked straight to areas best left alone. “So we soaked it with the good stuff, shot him full of antibiotics and updated his tetanus booster.”

“Poor guy. And it wasn’t even his fault.”

“No, it wasn’t. I don’t think he and his friend are on speaking terms at the moment.”

Eyes that had seemed tired and defeated during the meeting in his office now sparkled with life and laughter. He liked the transformation. He tried imagining her with a surfboard under one arm, water streaming down her back, her dark hair wet and tangled from riding in to shore. That was another transformation he’d like to see. And one he wasn’t likely to.

“I imagine they’re not.” He tried to turn the conversation around before he ended up showing the cards in his hand. Cards he had no business holding at all. “Anyway, about the appraisal. I’ll let the person in charge of the auction know about the necklace.”

“Good. I was hoping to drop it off without making a big production out of it.”

That wouldn’t have happened. “We would have put a notice in the staff newsletter asking for information, just in case the donor had no idea as to its value.”

Her eyes widened. “I’m glad that’s not how things went, then.”

“I can understand that. Now. Its presence at the auction isn’t going to complicate things for you, is it?”

“I doubt my ex will even attend, so no. It was a wedding gift from him to me, so it’s mine to give away. Just like our marriage was his to give away.” She wrinkled her nose. “Sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”

He waited for a nurse to go past, lowering his voice. “He cheated?”

A single nod. “How else do you throw a marriage away?”

He could think of lots of ways. One of which he’d done. Or maybe it had been inevitable, once they’d lost their daughter to a disease that was as relentless as it was deadly.

“Did you try counseling?” He often wondered if he could have saved his marriage if he’d suggested that earlier, before it had been too late. Instead, he’d become unreachable, staying away from home as much as possible.

“Counseling. Right. Would that have been before or after he slept with a mutual friend? Or moved in with her once I discovered what they were doing—had been doing for almost a year.”

“Ouch. Sorry.” The one thing he’d never done during the whole grieving process was turn to someone else. He’d been so destroyed, so emotionally empty that he’d had nothing to give to anyone else, not even his wife.

None of that had changed with time, and he wasn’t sure he wanted it to. The divorce had been his fault—he could acknowledge that now. Some people just didn’t deserve second chances.

“It’s okay. I knew on some level something was wrong. He was unexpectedly called into work a lot of nights—which now I see probably wasn’t the case. Even when he came home, he wasn’t really ‘there,’ if that makes sense. I was dealing with some issues of my own, but if I’d suspected he was that unhappy, I would have done something. Before it got to the point it did.”

Garret, on the other hand, had been able to see the slow slide of his marriage and had chosen to do nothing…except put in grueling hours at work. His wife had left him after the accident, while he’d still been in the hospital, saying she wasn’t going to watch him throw his life away. She was right. He had been. He’d gotten counseling afterward, had tried to convince her to go with him, but she’d refused. And that had been that. Papers had been waiting for him at the house where they’d raised their daughter. Within weeks he’d sold the place, resigned from his practice, and, after a year of surgery on his hand and physical therapy, the offer from Miami’s Grace Hospital had come up and he’d decided to make the move to Florida. But at least his divorce hadn’t been as a result of either of them cheating.

“I’m sorry he put you through that.”

“It’s over. I’m kind of relieved, actually. I’m my own person again.”

“A person who surfs in her spare time.”

She glanced at him. “You’ve really never tried it?”

“Nope. Not ever. Is it like snow skiing?”

“Um, no.” A quick laugh. Although the falling part might be similar. “Why don’t you come with me on Wednesday and see?”

“Excuse me?”

She blinked as if not quite sure what had just happened. “My bad. You’re probably not even interested in surfing. Forget I said anything.”

Addy was asking him to go to the beach with her? The previous image he’d had began tickling at the edges of his consciousness again. Wetsuit? Or bathing suit? He was a jerk for even letting those kinds of thoughts bounce around his head. “I’m interested in a lot of things.”

And that was better?

“So you want to go?”

Better that than admit it wasn’t surfing that was on his mind.

“Possibly. What time, so I can see if I can juggle my schedule?”

She pursed her lips and studied him, maybe sensing he wasn’t being entirely honest with her, then tucked the tablet under her arm and pulled out her phone. She scrolled for a second.

He wasn’t sure what she was doing. “Do you want to text me the time?”

“I’m looking right now. Okay, we want low tide, just as it’s coming in. Looks like the wind direction will be good as well.”

She could have been speaking a different language. “And can you find an actual time somewhere in there?”

“You don’t have a board, I take it.”

“Not of the surfing variety, no.” A flicker of enthusiasm colored her voice and it lit a matching one in him. How long had it been since he’d actually gone anywhere with a woman? It wasn’t a date. But it could be fun. He was allowed to have fun, wasn’t he?

“It’s okay. We can rent a board.”

“Whoa.” He held up a hand. “I’m not planning on climbing on a surfboard. I was just going to watch.”

Like a voyeur.

“You don’t even want to paddle out? You don’t have to stand up, if you don’t want to. You’ll be bored if you just sit on the beach.”

Doubtful. He turned his scarred hand so she could see it. “I’m not exactly able to use this the way most people can.”

“It’ll be fine. Believe me. There are surfers who are missing limbs and still get out there and catch plenty of waves.”

He was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be one of them, but he didn’t feel like arguing the point with hospital staff passing them in the hallway. “So what time would we need to leave?”

“Do you want to meet at the beach or here at the hospital?”

“Beach.” The word came out without hesitation. He had no idea if she’d be wearing a bathing suit under her clothes, but he certainly didn’t want to meet out front if she was only wearing some kind of cover-up. The gossip chain would have a field day with it. And there was no way he was showing up in board shorts.

“Okay. Well, the tide should be right and the shops open at around ten a.m. Can you swing it if we meet a half hour before that? We’ll want to go over some basics. Or you could take a class.”

“No. No classes. I don’t plan on making a career out of surfing. But yes, I should be able to make time to come out.”

“I think you’ll like it.” She grinned. “Even if you don’t plan on making a career out of it.”

She tucked her phone back in her pocket and held up her electronic file. “Well, I’d better get back to something that actually is my career. I’ll see you Wednesday at nine thirty?” She suggested the name of a local surf shop as their meeting place.

“I’ll be there.” He wasn’t sure why or how this had happened, but it had. And there was no way he was going to back out and be stuck explaining that his reasons involved a mental tug-of-war over her choice of beach attire. “Anything special I need to bring?”

“Nope. Just yourself and some swim trunks.”

Swim trunks. She’d just cemented every reservation he’d ever had about Wednesday’s trip.

Instead of swim trunks, maybe he should settle for bringing along what was left of his sanity. Because going to the beach with her was not on his list of smart ideas. In fact, it might just be the dumbest thing he’d ever agreed to. But it was too late to do anything but own his decision…and hope for the best.

* * *

Addy pulled her surfboard out of the walk-in closet and ran her hand over the smooth, glossy surface. What had she been thinking asking Garret to go with her? Being with him was hardly going to fill the ticket of taking some time for herself.

She was on edge around him. Had been ever since he’d come to the hospital three years ago. She’d just been careful, because, unlike her husband, her marriage had been important to her.

And look where that had gotten her. Maybe she should have been the first to have an affair.

Her nose crinkled. Not that Garret would have agreed to be her partner in crime. Besides, it wasn’t in her to cheat. She was loyal to a fault. It showed in her friendships, and she’d thought in her marriage.

Except that had all been an illusion. Like the perfect wave. It teased and beckoned you to paddle out and see what it was all about. Only it was rarely as glorious as it looked from the shallows. Up close you saw the imperfections and the flaws hidden within the turbulent whitewater.

And a surfboard was incomplete without a wave, just as a marriage was incomplete without trust. That was something she’d never get back again, even if she’d allowed Leo to stay and they’d gone to counseling as Garret had suggested.

And there was the fact that, once discovered, he’d moved right in with his lover.

Oh, well. That part of her life was over. At least it would be once the divorce was final. The sooner the better.

Picking the board up, she set it on the forbidden bed. She gritted her teeth and forced that thought from her mind. Tomorrow if she had time, she’d wax the board up and get it ready for its first outing since her ex had moved out. Garret was right. She had been working too hard. But the alternative was nights like tonight when she had nothing to do but think. And that wasn’t good.

All she had to do was get through this evening, and then tomorrow morning she could work her shift, come home again and on Wednesday she’d be out on the water. Not alone, but out there just the same.

She wasn’t sure why she’d asked Garret to go with her, but now that she had, she was relieved. Having him there would keep her from backing out and sitting at home brooding the day away. Because she didn’t dare show up at work. He would have her head.

It was up to her to show him that she knew how to cut loose and have fun.

Or at least pretend to. Because deep down inside, with everything that was currently going on in her life, she was pretty sure she was going to be anything but a fun date.

No. Not a date. This was an outing. To prove a point.

How did that saying go? Fake it until you make it? Well, she’d better start faking being a fun-time girl, and soon. Or Garret was going to figure out the little secret that she’d been hiding.

What secret was that? That she had eyes for her boss?

She gulped. No, she didn’t. And it was up to her to prove that once and for all. If not to him, to herself.

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